Nether

7. Not So Safe A Place

Roane's brow furrows. "I thought you said Convent was safe for non-magics."

"I thought so too." I swallow and meet his eyes. "We need to help them. We have to get across that bridge and get Caleb."

"It'll be too late. These are holding areas. Just like the last bridge, we'll find 4 to 6 watches, maximum. We'll have to take them on ourselves."

My heart pounds. "How do you know? What if there are more?"

He shakes his head. "They're greedy. The more watches there are, the more they have to share the pay. They'll keep the girls here for a few hours before they're transported down. The fresher they are from your realm, the purer their magic is, before fear and anger taint it and turn it black. If you want to save them, we have to do it now."

Remembering the pain in my back and Lara, I nod. My pain won't be in vain, neither will Lara's death.

"I'll go first, draw them out, and distract them. Sneak along the bank and get to the girls. Once I clear the bridge, we'll cross."

Panic makes my throat dry. "But it's dangerous. How do you know they'll all surface? No, we should stick together—"

Roane cradles my neck, meeting my eyes. "To beat a king's guard will bring them honor below, and more gold than they could ever hope for. They won't pass up the opportunity. I'll lure them to the other side of the bridge. Once they see my marks, they'll fight each other for the chance to fight me. This will work."

Clutching my sleeves, I nod. I want to hold onto him and keep him from going, but we have to do this. "What do I do once I get the girls?"

"Cut them loose and get out of there, fast."

With a reassuring squeeze on my arm, he makes to turn.

"Wait." I clutch his hand. "What if the human smugglers are still in there?"

He gives me a look and then dashes away. Though no words were spoken, the answer is clear. If the humans are there, there will be blood.

Roane moves toward the bridge, confident, and I stare at him hard, wishing I could borrow from his strength. For a moment, I'm bolstered in it, but then he sets foot on the bridge and my heart rises into my throat, all confidence dissipated. He can take care of himself. I know. I've seen him fight and the countless tattoos tell me this. The Troll king wouldn't have honored him with the Great Mistress if not. I don't need to worry about him, but he moves further into the bridge, and I do.

He barely makes it to the middle of the bridge before a troll surfaces. I duck, cupping my mouth as if that would add to my silence. Another troll follows. Movement catches my attention. Two other trolls sneak under the bridge, appearing from the mist.

This bridge is different. Whereas in the draw bridge, we were suspended in the Nether, here, there is solid ground and a passageway beneath us. Does Roane know they're there? We didn't count on this. We didn't plan on them.

He turns his ear down, answering my unspoken question.

Roane exchanges words with them, but they're all too far to hear. His haughtiness though seems to send flares into the sky as he slips off his jacket. He's spurring them on. The ones crossing beneath the bridge surface on the other side, blocking Roane's only escape. I rub my fingers, ready to run. At least I hope so.

Time feels to still, the world suspended. Roane moves then, a flinch of the arm. So fast, I barely see it. But then the troll before him stiffens, falls to his knees, wraps thick hands around a dagger stabbing him through his neck.

It's time.

The other trolls charge.

The sound of metal against metal resounds, so do groans and the singular sound of splattering blood, but I force my eyes forward, on the task. The air is cold and crisp and makes my chest ache as I weave through the trees and draw close to the bridge. I inch my head out from behind the trunk. Roane engages them all at once, ducks as one swipes down with an ax. It sticks to the handrail. He struggles to release it, but a second wasted is instant death as Roane shoves a dagger into his gut before kicking him into an approaching troll. I force my focus away, scuttle forward, and slip down the muddy bank. Thankfully, the mire is slick and moves me faster.