In the darkness, Allamu led those who could not fight through the chilly, cramped confines of the tunnel. With his right arm, he held Qays perched on his hip. With his left, he held the hand of Illi’s mother–advanced in years and small of stature. She held the hand of another behind her, and so on—all the former hostages made a chain of strength to face the darkness and whatever lurked within it.
The tunnel was silent, save the burbling of the water and its echo. Had the terrifying rumble that ended their first incursion been merely some sort of trick? The bang of a falling rock redoubling back upon itself, perhaps? The river must be close, thought Allamu, We have come so far already. We will be safe under the open sky any moment.
«Like the open sky of Kelmaars that witnessed the first of your many lies?» came the reply.
Its voice was not a voice at all. Perhaps it was just the echoed splashes of dozens of feet trudging through the water. Perhaps Qays was humming himself a lullaby and Allamu had merely misheard the boy. Perhaps Allamu’s pain had been buried too deeply in his heart for too long and here, under the press of the rocks, he could bury it no deeper.
«What lies did you tell to bring Sabit to this place—to lead her to her doom?»
Wayfarings of Sabit: Tumult is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/