Relief passed over their faces at her suggestion. They still could not go back the way they’d come, but perhaps the wraith would not be so close behind.
Preter opened the door and the metallic scent of old blood spilled out, yet Lizzan didn’t see the slaughter she expected. She had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that some survivors they might find.
And so they did.
Closing the door after they all had gone in, Preter immediately began murmuring and drawing symbols on the wood. Kelir circled the room, and with Aerax at her side, Lizzan moved to the bed where a man had been chained naked, his brown skin webbed with scars old and new.
“What is this?” Seri whispered in horror. “Is he alive?”
Barely. Every rib showed through his skin, and his lips were cracked and dry. She looked to Aerax. “Is there water left?”
They had sipped from Ardyl’s wineskin at every stop for breath. Now she trickled some between the man’s lips, despairing as it spilled out over his jaw—then heartened as his throat worked and he swallowed.
“Hold,” said Kelir, and Lizzan thought at first that he meant for her to stop tending to the man, but the warrior spoke to Preter, instead. “There is no exit. That wall is bricked up with heavy stones. I do not think even my axe could break through.”
Alarm shot through Lizzan’s heart. Preter might lock the door with his spell, but they would be trapped—with no food, barely any water, and with evidence of the wraith’s patience at every bloodstained chamber they’d raced through. They could not hope for the wraith to grow bored and leave them be.
“I’ll carry him,” Aerax said in the same moment that Lizzan scrambled for the chains. Heavy iron manacles bound the man’s wrists, the chain links thicker than she had ever seen used for a prisoner. A chain such as this might hold a mammoth in place—and would maybe even hold Caeb.
“Do you see keys?” she asked, tugging the sheet around his still form. Kelir came to help with the manacles as the others searched.
“No keys,” said Ardyl.
And they could not waste more time looking. “Forgive me,” she whispered before gripping the man’s thumb and snapping the joint. Kelir did the same to the other hand, and they dragged off the manacles, scraping away skin but not as badly as the wraith would. Grunting, Aerax heaved the man’s weight over his shoulder—and even starved, he seemed huge and heavy.
“Got him?” Kelir asked.
Teeth gritted, Aerax nodded.
“I’ll take him at the next rest. Go ahead of us.”
Ahead of Lizzan, Kelir, and Ardyl. No slower did they seem to run but the delay at the door and searching for keys had brought the wraith closer, and when the screeching began, the echoing shriek down the stone passageway was louder than before. Then Preter turned at the end of a corridor, and she heard Aerax’s laughing groan when they saw the steep stairs spiraling upward.
The stairwell was narrow, only wide enough to climb in a single line, and this time Lizzan went last. Still they did not slow much, until the stairs continued higher and higher without end, and she could barely hear the others’ heaving breaths over her own, could barely feel anything but the shaking furnace that her leg muscles had become.
Until a screech carried up the stairwell, and the wraith’s clacking stone tread on the steps. The others picked up the pace and shouted encouragement, but the wraith was right behind her; she could feel its presence as if her fluttering cloak had become an extension of her skin, raising hairs even through the sweat pouring down her neck, her pounding heart trembling with terror.
Then Preter shouted, “Flatten down and hold on!” and she knew not what he meant, until ahead of her Ardyl seemed to fall to the stairs, but she hadn’t tripped. Lizzan lurched up half a step and nearly sprawled atop her, gripping Ardyl’s hand as a gale wind howled down the stairwell, carrying the sound of Preter screaming in effort.
Hair whipping into her face, Lizzan looked back. Three steps below, the wraith battled against the gale, its screeching maw gaping to reveal rows of serrated teeth, its eyes glowing the orange-red of volcanic rock. Knifelike fingers reached for her, and they couldn’t slice her, she knew they couldn’t slice her, yet still she could only picture the hot splash of blood and the screams, so many screams as everyone was torn to shreds around