Tender - A Disney-esque Adventure for Adults

Chapter 11

I didn't look back to the shore.  Part of me worried if I did, I would lose my resolve.  The other part of me was too concerned with the icy tentacles of the ocean water creeping upwards as I moved deeper, seeking out the warmth between my thighs and under my breasts.

Finally, I was neck-deep, and the cold all blended into one numb sensation.  It was powerful enough to still the sensitive nerves in my skin, while the adrenaline compressed inside my veins powered me as I began to stroke towards the rocks.

Slap!  A large wave pummelled me, plastering my hood over my face and stealing my breath.  As I gasped for air, I clutched at the material, trying to free my eyes.  Just as I managed to pull loose, another wave hit, and I felt rock scrape across my spine as the force of the water crushed me into the jagged granite. 

I would have cried out in pain and terror, if I didn't fear the Regent and her guards more.  Pushing away from the rocks, I stroked forward in the next wave head on, ducking under rather than allowing myself to get slammed again.  Swimming as though my life depended on it, because it did, I angled further out to sea until I cleared the rocks and then turned towards the shore. 

The feeling of my boots regaining footing in the soft sand was heavenly.  Back on dry land — but not safe ground.  Barnaby had warned that the guards were trained to check the shore below the palace regularly, and let arrows fly at any moving shadow.  Sprinting and soggy, I raced for the base of the cliff again, searching desperately for the entrance. 

There.  Ignoring my bleeding and bruised back, I crouched over the small circular stone, less than the size of a manhole cover.  The blue rock glinted dimly as I wrapped my fingers around and attempted to lift it.

It refused to budge.  Either it was much heavier than it looked, or it was sealed to the passage entrance with decades of salt and sand.  Looking around frantically, I spotted a length of driftwood further along the beach, splintery but strong.

Hauling it back to the stone, I forced my hands to grip the spiky plank, even as the shards of wood cut into my palms.  Scarlet blood began to drip along my wrists as I used the edge of the wood to leverage the stone.

For a moment, it remained stubborn.  Then with excruciating slowness, it shifted, grinding loudly.  Panting, I redoubled my efforts and a vacuous black hole appeared in the gap I'd created.  Just a few more inches, I willed myself, just as the plank snapped and sent me hurtling smack into the cliff face.

Guess it'll have to do.  Ungainly, I clambered upright and looked at the partial entrance, blacker than black as if it actively absorbed light.  We couldn't risk a lantern; the secret stairs wound upwards between the inner and outer walls of the tower, and any noise or light would be an instant give-away.  I would be climbing in the dark.

Head first, I eased into the passage, twisting and scraping to fit past the stone.  My skin burned in a dozen places where the top layer had been ground away by the rough surfaces.  Once I was fully inside, I used my damaged hands to feel around.  The space was about the circumference of a tunnel in a children's playground, and I was no child.  I wouldn't even be able to turn around if I needed too.  My blindly grasping hands led the way.  Oh, thank god - there's a step.  Crawling on all fours, I began my climb.

In the dark, on my own, I fought the biggest battle of my life to date.  The enemy wasn't the sticky, strong cobwebs I tore my way through, or the many times I banged my head on the low ceiling, or even the constant fear of discovery and death.  The war was waged in my head.  With no light or vision, my mind spewed forth every terrifying scenario my talented imagination could conjure.  Dead bodies, man-eating rats, suffocation - I even managed to convince myself that there was no exit point to the passage, and that I would perish, trapped inside an airless tomb between the walls of the tower.