A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,33

drained in an hour, but by then they might be well clear of the mountain.

Tarrys stopped abruptly and Charlie had to grab her to steady himself, to keep from tipping them both over.

"What's wrong?" He could feel the tension in her slender shoulders.

Then, as he looked ahead, he knew.

In the dim fingertip of light cast by the crystal he could see two black maws instead of one.

This was the first time in a long time they'd come to a choice and the first time at all that she'd hesitated.

"I don't know which one to take."

"You think one of them is the way out?" "Yes.

I'm pretty sure one leaves the mountain and the other goes through.

But I don't know which is which."

Charlie reached for her hand, feeling her rising agitation.

"Go with your gut."

"My gut?" "Your instincts.

They've led you right this far."

But the rueful expression she tossed him made him wonder if she'd been guessing all along.

If she truly had no idea where they were, he might be doomed to wander inside these crystal walls until he died of old age.

Or black trimor poisoning.

"Let's see if we can make this easy.

We'll walk a short way into one of the tunnels and maybe catch a whiff of fresh air or a sound from the outside."

She cocked a skeptical brow.

"We're miles inside the mountain."

"Are you one hundred percent sure of that?" A grimace twisted her lips.

"No."

"Then let's give it a try.

He tugged her about ten feet into the left tunnel, then wrapped his arm around her waist.

But no scent of water tickled his nose.

No chirping of birds met his ears.

The tunnel felt the same as the original.

"Anything?" he asked, praying something sparked a memory in her.

"No."

He sighed, but refused to be disappointed.

Not yet.

"Me either."

He led her into the other tunnel and once more stood with her, in silence, hand in hand.

"Anything?" "They're the same," Tarrys said.

But that was just it.

They weren't.

One meant life.

The other almost certain death.

"Decide, Tarrys."

She looked up, meeting his gaze.

"My instinct tells me to go right.

But I can't tell if that's because that's the way out, or because that's the way I would have gone before, back into the mountain.

I honestly don't know and I don't want to choose."

What did his own instincts tell him? He thought about it for a moment and came up with nothing.

"Let's go right.

Let's follow your first instinct."

Tarrys looked decidedly uneasy.

"Okay."

Charlie tugged on her hand and they retraced their steps and continued walking.

If he didn't get out of this place soon his back was going to be permanently bowed.

The air between them held a coarse tension, anticipation riddled with anxiety, as they headed into the dark.

Though Charlie strained to hear the scream of a flying snake or the scent of trees, mile after mile passed without change.

Hope proved harder and harder to hang on to.

They'd walked for hours to get this far, he reminded himself.

They might well have to walk for hours to get back out, so there was no sense in getting discouraged.

Easier said than done.

The silence between them began to weigh on him and he decided it was foolish.

If they reached the outside, they'd know it when they got there.

There was nothing to be gained by listening for the sounds.

"How did you happen to be born in here?" he asked Tarrys.

"My mother was a miner."

His brows lifted.

"She mined the crystals?" "Yes.

Before the sealing of the gates, Esria was lit and warmed by the power of the seven stones.

When the stones were lost, light crystals became the source of light and warmth in the royal court and most of the wealthy halls.

The Marceils were enslaved to serve the Esri and to work the mines.

My mother was one of them."

"So there was a whole community of Marceils living in here.

Men, women, children?" "Not children.

Only me.

The peoples of Esria rarely conceive, especially since the loss of the seven stones.

I'd never seen a child until I followed Baleris into your world."

"Never?" He looked at her incredulously.

"No.

There were only fifteen miners in this end of the mine.

Until I was nine years old, I'd never seen anyone else."

He tried to imagine that, tried to imagine growing up in this darkness, and couldn't manage either one.

"So your father was one of the other miners?" "I suppose, though father isn't a word that has any meaning in this world."

He looked at her askance.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't need two people to reproduce?" Her mouth quirked up.

"Yes, we need two.

One of the other miners sired me.

But neither Marceils nor Esri