The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [62]
The rumbling faded, walls groaning as the structure adjusted to the collapse.
Laying against the door, he stared up into a new darkness. The chamber outside was gone, the weapons room half-buried, leaving him in a small space filled with dust and rock. He listened to each creak and pop in the settling stone, waiting to be crushed at any moment. His shoulder suddenly ached, the wound remembered after the chaos.
Afraid to move, he endured the pain a little longer, resting his aching body, and took slow breaths as the dust settled, waiting to see if the Shield would bury him as it buried all its secrets.
Chapter Thirteen
"What did you do to her?" "What had to be done."
Thaena's head hurt. Noises seemed too bright and, as she tried to open her eyes, light seemed too loud. Duras was a blur, leaning over her, holding her shoulders. She heard his voice, knew his touch. Her relief was bittersweet as she remembered where they were.
"She's coming around," she heard Anilya's voice from somewhere to her left.
"Thaena," Duras said, "can you hear me?"
She coughed. Her throat was dry and aching from the cold. Duras pulled her up slowly. Her head swam, as if she were still swaying and turning in the fangs of a giant skull. He held her in a sitting position as she waited for the nausea to subside. His grip was strong, fierce, and warm.
"You are welcome, Rashemi," Anilya said before turning away.
"Duras," Thaena croaked, then cleared her voice. "What did she do?"
"I don't know," he said, bringing a waterskin to her lips. "It doesn't matter now. You're fine. The bleeding has stopped."
She ran a hand along her thigh where the bone-beast had bitten her. Fearing her leg would be gone, she was surprised to find smooth skin, clean and whole, albeit a little numb. She drank more of the water and held her arm out to Duras, who carefully raised her to her feet. Finding her balance, she felt refreshed. Her leg had no pain. In fact her entire body, once aching and bruised, seemed restored.
Looking around she found the chamber empty and quiet. Only the faint sound of the wind outside and her own breathing disturbed the silence. Bones lay scattered around the floor as before, but now they were broken and splintered beyond what time had done to them. Raising her eyes to the high balcony, she felt the heavy silence. There were no arrows to fall or archers to loose them. All were gone and swallowed by shadows.
"We are trapped here?" she asked, afraid of his answer.
"We checked the rest of the tower," he said, his voice low and bordering on grim. "Every floor below this one has collapsed."
"I feared as much." She looked back toward the hallway at the top of the stairs, remembering the woman who had died, sacrificing her body to keep them in this tower.
"But the Creel are defeated," Duras said.
"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice feeling stronger. "They were going to die anyway. They came here for that purpose."
"I don't understand." Duras took his hands from her shoulders, turning her around to face him.
"I watched a woman, back there," she said, pointing to the hallway. "She gave herself to keep us here. She destroyed herself for whatever cause these Nar have come for."
Duras didn't answer, merely stared at her, trying to understand.
"This wasn't just a trap, Duras. It was… a sacrifice." "Then it was a meaningless sacrifice," he said. "We're still alive."
Thaena looked away and crossed her arms. She couldn't help but feel that more could have been done. It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest returning to Rashemen, getting help from the hathrans, and returning with a larger force, but she couldn't say it. She loathed to return in defeat-a vremyonni exile escaped and a wychlaren post lost to the Nar. The Creel could be given no quarter, no time to finish what they had planned.
"You're right," she said. "We are still alive, still here, and we must make something of that-at any cost."
"Any