Fugitive (sequel to Becoming Atlantian)

Fugitive - Chapter 17

Atlantis had never been so quiet. During her training under Tiberius, there had always been activity, whether it had been night or day. Fellow Atlantian warriors were always training or tending to the dragons. The stillness was unusual. Every muscle in Aubrey's body coiled tight in response, waiting for an ambush at a moment's notice.

Each step through the dim hallways was loud in the stillness. The minute shift of dust and dirt beneath her shoes as if two giant rocks were grinding together. Aubrey readjusted her grip on the pommel on the sword and wound her way through the empty hallways, her breathing slow and even despite the nerves twisting within her stomach.

Aubrey allowed her feet to lead her through the familiar halls. Yet, the deeper she made her way into the compound, the more she realised the futility of her mission. Her need to save Tiberius had outweighed any logic. But, with each step, she couldn't help but worry over the odds. The Matriarch's sycophants, who had taken over Atlantis, outnumbered her massively.

And who did she have at her back? She had embarked upon a rescue mission alone. And as a newcomer to Atlantis, there was no one she could count on within these walls. There was no way of knowing whether any of the Atlantians would support her if it came down to a fight. No one living at least.

Faith. Aubrey breathed out slowly. She had to have faith that Merlin's lessons had worked. She had to have faith that the exiled Atlantian hadn't set her up to fail.

All too soon, Aubrey was turning a corner and found herself on a familiar stretch of hallway. But, the hallway was massively altered. The wall, which had once been home to a living image imprinted within the stone, now hosted only a gaping hole.

Stepping close, Aubrey reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over the jagged sections of stone that remained. Beneath her fingers, there was an answering thrum of magic. Its playfulness buffeted against her skin. Barnaby. He was still there even if his home no longer remained.

Closing her eyes, Aubrey pressed her hand flat against the stone. "Where is he? Where is Tiberius?" She murmured lowly, her head tilted to the side as she waited for the usual wordy answers.

There was a grinding sound and then, over to the left, a slim male form slowly appeared on the stone. Barnaby's long beard drifting from his chin and down over his belly. It appeared even Atlantian's trapped in walls could become tired. Lines had formed around his eyes and mouth, deep shadows were beneath his eyes and as his gaze met hers, Aubrey could see sadness shining from within.

She dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and gasped. It was almost as if someone had taken an eraser and removed his lips from his face. Instead, there was just an uneven smudge on the stone work where his mouth should have been. Reflexively she tightened her grip on the sword as she stared at it.

"What have they done to you?" Aubrey murmured in horror. Her other hand, still pressed against the stone, felt an answering thrum.

Barnaby had been a living and breathing Atlantian once. An experiment gone wrong had trapped him into the walls centuries before. It made his desecration a million times worse. He wasn't just a piece of art that had been destroyed. He was a living soul trapped in stone. Aubrey felt disgust and outrage flooding through her veins. They would pay for this. She would make sure of it.

"Do not worry about me, child."

It took a moment for her to realise that those words had not been spoken out loud. Instead, they had slipped into her mind so clearly she could almost see them. She blinked rapidly, her eyes watering at the sound of his familiar voice.

"Barnaby." She whispered in response. "We'll make this right."

His eyes widened. "You can hear me?"