The Sand Wielders by L. Darby Gibbs

Author:L. Darby Gibbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: magic, sword and sorcery, fantasy series, heroic fantasy, mage, fantasy world, fantasy novel, new adult, standing stone, fantasy heroic
Publisher: L. Darby Gibbs

A Nimble Escape

Donya sat up and opened her eyes, then closed them immediately. Nausea forced her to lie back on the hard floor. Floor? She propped herself up on an elbow and pried her eyes open against the pain and dizziness. She was in a small, narrow room with a low ceiling. How long had she been here? The last thing she remembered was them arriving at the edge where the desert met the foothills of High Reach. How had she managed in four days to get herself locked up twice?

Illumination was supplied by light that seeped in from under the door. It wasn’t much help. The chamber was full of shadows. A storage room? She raised herself up on an elbow, pressing her hand to her forehead in hopes of reducing the discomfort. Rolling onto her knees, she made contact with something flat and hard. It scraped as it skidded on the cold floor.

In the dim light, she could see she was alone, and the skidding object was a tray containing a roll and a plate of something mushy looking. Her canteen lay nearby. She turned her head, wincing as it compounded her pain. Alriane was not with her. Alriane! Donya staggered to her feet and used the wall to keep her balance.

Grabbing the handle of the door, she pushed and pulled, twisting the nob and finding it locked. The bulb at her waist was gone, but her staff remained wrapped around her calf and still out of sight beneath her boot top and tucked trouser leg. Whatever instinct had kept her from sharing the knowledge of her embedded staff, she was thankful. She would be out of here in a moment and find Alriane. She grumbled, “And deal with Talaura.”

She tightened her grip on the knob, then heard someone shift in the hall outside. Footsteps shuffled and drew closer. Soft voices, whose words she couldn’t make out, spoke and receded. The person outside her door fidgeted, and she imagined her guard resting his or her back against the wall. She wouldn’t be leaving as quickly as she thought.

Laying her cheek and hand on the door, she listened. The person was still out there. “Tell me where my daughter is.”

She heard the guard move, but there was no response. “Please, tell me where she is. Alriane is only two; she’ll be frightened.” She looked at the tray. “And hungry, too.”

“I don’t know where she is,” the voice said.

A man. He could have children; he must understand how she was feeling. Her head still throbbed. She reached out to the essence and soothed the injury that was making it difficult to think. Feeling much better, she said, “Surely, you can find out or have her brought to me.”

“There was nothing said about a child.” Now his voice was growing huffy.

“That doesn’t stop a mother from wanting her child safe. You can understand that, right?”

“No more talking.”

“She’s two years old!”

Donya waited, but he didn’t reply. She hit the door with her hand and backed up.

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