No choice. She wasn’t going to stay here and be caught. At least if she was crushed by the pile, the priestess would never find her body. Somehow that wasn’t a comforting thought.
It wasn’t a long climb, but it was harrowing. Each creak of stone, puff of dust, and rumble caused her heart to race. When she reached the bottom, her shaky legs just about gave out as she stepped onto firm ground on the bottom level of Zirdai. She shone the druk around and blew out a breath in relief. She knew where she was.
Shyla hurried through the tunnel. Dirty water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, creating puddles in the middle. The sound of her boots on the floor echoed overly loud. She soon found the entrance to the corkscrew stairwell that went up to level seventy-eight. Not stopping to rest, she ascended.
As she looped around the main support shaft, Shyla puffed with the effort. At least the thin wedges of steps wouldn’t collapse under her weight. When she reached the gap where an entire level of stairs was missing, she paused to catch her breath. She longed for her pack. It contained a full water skin and a few rolls of jerky, but she left it in Rendor’s office in her haste to escape. And while she was wishing for unattainable things, she included a spider kit. It would make climbing the round shaft in her current physical condition easier.
Ignoring the multitude of aches and pains coursing through her body, she found a few toeholds and fingerholds and started up. Her arms and legs soon shook with fatigue and, when she was about halfway, her grip slipped and she slid back to the bottom. She rested her sweaty forehead on the cool column. It was a minor setback. The second time it happened, she cursed. After a moment, she tried again. This time she imagined what the Heliacal Priestess might be doing to her prisoners. It gave her the energy to reach the stairs.
She sat on the steps, gasping and shaking with fatigue. Her fingertips were bleeding and she’d broken all her fingernails. However, that pain just blended in with all the other hurts clamoring for her attention.
The rest of the trip to level seventy-eight was simple in comparison. She staggered out of the stairwell in triumph only to realize that she didn’t know where the guards were patrolling. And in her current blood-stained and bedraggled condition, she would attract unwanted attention. No choice but to go to Orla’s. A groan escaped her lips at the prospect of ascending another thirty-nine levels.
It took forever. A long, painful slog, willing her legs to keep going. Repeating the consequences if she didn’t return to rescue everyone in her mind, she kept to the shadows and the abandoned tunnels. Even through her fatigue, she noted the sound of the city. It had changed. A buzz of tension, sharp voices, and a hum of fear vibrated through the air. The citizens had felt the explosions and were understandably worried.
Once she reached the commune, she was rewarded for her efforts. Every drop of sweat and trickle of blood to get there was worth it because Mojag appeared as if by magic, followed by Gurice, and Zhek. She blinked at them, sensing a trick. All three here and safe was too good to be true. Were they real?
“Son of a sand demon,” Gurice said. “You look like you’ve crawled through all the seven caverns of hell.”
“What happened?” Mojag asked.
Zhek waved them off. “Not now. Fetch her some water. Meet me in the examination room.”
No doubt they were real.
“Scorching sand rats, child. I will not help you re-injure yourself. You should be resting.” Zhek thrust a cup of his healing tea at her again.
Gurice entered Shyla’s room with Mojag right behind her. “Problem?”
“Yes,” Zhek said. “I’ve patched her up, stitched her up, cleaned her up, and she wants to run off and undo everything!”
“Zhek, there might be survivors.” Hopefully Rendor was one of them. “I have to lead a rescue attempt. I need your restorative, but I’ll go without it if I have to.”
He strode from the room, grumbling and muttering under his breath.
“I guess that’s a no,” Gurice said.
“What’s the gossip?” Shyla asked Mojag.
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he just about sobbed.
“For what?”
“The explosions! I didn’t know what the priestess was planning. I missed it! I—”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “She surprised us all. No one expected such an attack. Such disregard for life. Such destruction.”
“The priestess was smart to keep her real plans under tight wraps,” Gurice said to her brother. “And it’s done. Nothing to do about it now. What you can do is stop blaming yourself and help. What have you learned?”
Mojag straightened and wiped his eyes. “Not much. The guards have told everyone to remain calm, which, of course, no one is. Everyone’s convinced there’s a major gas leak under the city. The focus is on the Water Prince—no one’s talking about the priestess being involved. A few of the wealthy citizens have tried to talk to the prince but were turned away by his guards.”
“His guards?” Gurice asked.
A shrug. “Probably deacons dressed in their uniforms.”
“Do you know how many?” Shyla asked.
“Twice as many as normally guard the entrance, although now I’m sure the gossip is saying there were dozens of guards. Rumors tend to grow with time. It’ll be hundreds by darkness.”
So roughly twelve instead of six guards. “What about the Invisible Swords? How many are in the city?” she asked Gurice.
“Two for each of the guard units—a total of twenty-four.”
Almost half her people. The tight bands around her chest eased a fraction. “How many wielders?”
“Twelve, except most of them are new. But the other twelve all have protective rings.”
Still, it was good news. She had forty-eight guards, and twenty-six Invisible Swords. “Mojag, can you spread rumors as well?”
He perked up. “Yeah. That’s easy. I can recruit a bunch of the vagrant kids and it’ll be all over the city within fifteen angles.”
“Good. I want them telling everyone about the Heliacal Priestess. How she killed so many people to gain power. If the citizens are looking for verification, just have them mention the destruction of the guards’ quarters.”
Gurice looked at her. “For what purpose?”
“It’s time the citizens become more proactive. There’s still plenty of deacons in the city.”
“Nice.”
“I also need you to send runners to the guard units throughout the city.”
“What should they tell them?”
“To meet me in the common lounge on level ninety at angle ninety.”
“Angle ninety so no one can escape the city?” Gurice half teased.
“No. It’s when the Sun Goddess is at her strongest.”
“I didn’t think you were the religious type.”
“I survived an explosion, wasn’t crushed into a Shyla puddle, and escaped without major injury. I’ve gotten the hint.”
Gurice laughed. “Just don’t rely on it. You’re not indestructible.”
“I’m not?” Shyla pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise.
Another bark of laughter.