The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee by Samuel Gately

Author:Samuel Gately [Gately, Samuel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19. Deathsworn in the Dark

The small flame flickered as it traveled along the wall of the tunnel. It steadily led Kay and Yamar deeper into the underground nest of winding passageways, following a thin blue line of paint. The blackness swallowed their feet as they traveled in near total darkness, the flame providing them with little more than a direction. They stayed close together, Yamar’s hand clutching the hood of Kay’s cloak.

When the light faltered, which happened whenever the blue line faded, as it did for long stretches, she was forced to draw it close again and send it out, searching. As the fire cast its light on their faces, she could see Yamar staring at it, thousands of unanswered questions in his eyes. Questions she ignored. They pressed onwards through the landscape of grey stone, the only feature of interest the blue line of paint showing them the way down.

Kay spent the first hour certain that every shuffle of their feet hid sounds of pursuit. That Vascal’s men had forced the door, recognized the significance of the blue line, and were on their heels, better equipment freeing them to move faster than their prey. When she’d worried that angle to exhaustion and still no pursuit materialized, her concern shifted slowly forwards. She began thinking about what was ahead. Soon the shadows around each corner were shaped like a slouched Jyurik. He waited in the dark like a spider, a ready laugh on his lips for the foolish fetch, returning to the web of her own accord. He’d be backed by countless masked men who would quickly disarm the pair, drag them down to the Court of the Gyudi, and throw them at the feet of the would-be Dynasty for more sport.

Each step seemed to draw them deeper underground, away from the world Kay knew. They were far below the Fire Eye and getting farther. As they went deeper, Kay seemed to diminish, grow weaker with every step. The pain radiating from her broken arm grew, a reminder of exactly how well she’d fared the last time she’d come face to face with the Chosen Dynasty in their domain.

She began seeing black snakes at her feet, slithering silently just beyond the dim light. They parted before each footfall, gathering like threads of smoke that spread across Celest, the vision from her dreams. “Say something,” she finally breathed to Yamar to break the silence.

“We must have come at least three miles by now,” Yamar replied, voice as calm as if they walked the halls of the Palace.

“I…I think so,” she replied, trying to match his tone and probably failing. She didn’t like to admit it, but his steadiness, his hand on her hood, were a comfort in the darkness.

“So who exactly was Vascal?” Yamar asked.

“Like I said, he runs the Farrow black market. Headquarters out of a bar on Sethro Street in the Lagoons.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. You don’t really get to know someone like Vascal. If you’re close to him, there’s already a knife halfway in you.

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