Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [149]
“Wonderful,” muttered Tika. Somehow she hadn’t expected her plan to work quite so well. No other plans she had ever made in her life had worked out. Wouldn’t you know this would be a first? She, too, cast a quick glance over her shoulder. There must be six or seven draconians chasing after them, their long curved swords in their clawed hands.
Though the claw-footed draconians could not run as swiftly as either the girl or the kender, they had incredible endurance. Tika and Tas had a good head start, but it wasn’t going to last. She was already panting for breath, and there was a sharp pain in her side that made her want to double over in agony.
But every second I keep running gives Caramon a little more time, she told herself. I draw the draconians just that much farther away.
“Say, Tika”—Tas’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, his face, cheerful as always, was pale with fatigue—“do you know where we’re going?”
Tika shook her head. She hadn’t breath left to speak. She felt herself slowing, her legs were like lead. Another look back showed her that the draconians were gaining. Quickly she glanced around, hoping to find another corridor branching off from this main one, or even a niche, a doorway—any kind of hiding place. There was nothing. The corridor stretched before them, silent and empty. There weren’t even any cells. It was a long, narrow, smooth, and seemingly endless stone tunnel that sloped gradually upward.
Then a sudden realization nearly brought her up short. Slowing, gasping for breath, she stared at Tas, who was only dimly visible in the light of smoking torches.
“The tunnel … it’s rising …” She coughed.
Tas blinked at her uncomprehendingly, then his face brightened.
“It leads up and out!” he shouted jubilantly. “You’ve done it, Tika!”
“Maybe …” Tika said, hedging.
“Come on!” Tas yelled in excitement, finding new energy. Grabbing Tika’s hand, he pulled her along. “I know you’re right, Tika! Smell”—he sniffed—“fresh air! We’ll escape … and find Tanis … and come back and … rescue Caramon—”
Only a kender could talk and run headlong down a corridor while being chased by draconians at the same time, Tika thought wearily. She was being carried forward by sheer terror now, she knew. And soon that would leave her. Then she would collapse here in the tunnel, so tired and aching she wouldn’t care what the draconians—
Then, “Fresh air!” she whispered.
She had honestly thought Tas was lying just to keep her going. But now she could feel a soft whisper of wind touch her cheek. Hope lightened her leaden legs. Glancing back, she thought she saw the draconians slowing. Maybe they realize they’ll never catch us now! Exultation swept over her.
“Hurry, Tas!” she yelled. Together they both raced with renewed energy up the corridor, the sweet air blowing stronger and stronger all the time.
Running headfirst around a corner, they both came up short so suddenly that Tasslehoff skidded on some loose gravel and slammed up against a wall.
“So this is why they slowed down,” Tika said softly.
The corridor came to an end. Two barred wooden doors sealed it shut. Small windows set into the doors, covered with iron gratings, allowed the night air to blow into the dungeon. She and Tas could see outside, they could see freedom—but they could not reach it.
“Don’t give up!” Tas said after a moment’s pause. Recovering quickly, he ran over and pulled on the doors. They were locked.
“Drat,” Tas muttered, eyeing the doors expertly. Caramon might have been able to batter his way through them, or break the lock with a blow of his sword. But not the kender, not Tika.
As Tas bent down to examine the lock, Tika leaned against a wall, wearily closing her eyes. Blood beat in her head, the muscles in her legs knotted in painful spasms. Exhausted, she tasted the bitter salt of tears in her mouth and realized she was sobbing in pain and anger and frustration.
“Don’t, Tika!” Tas said, hurrying back