“Hold on,” she said and shrugged out of her dark gray outer robe. Biting at the hem, she then tore a broad strip away with a yank. “Hold your arm out.”
Scorio did so, and watched, almost indifferent, as she bandaged him tightly. He couldn’t tell if it was expertly done, but she wrapped his arm with confidence.
“The other one,” she said.
“And you?”
She glanced down at her own arms, then gingerly touched her shoulder. “I’ll live a little longer. Let’s take care of you first.”
So he held out his other arm. She bandaged it like the first, tearing two more strips from her outer robe, till little was left behind but the short sleeves.
“Your turn,” he said. “Let me take a look.”
She grimaced, looked like she’d protest, then relented. The bright light helped. She’d been cut three times across the upper arm, each cut vicious, and had a dozen puncture wounds in an arc around her shoulder.
“It got a bite in,” she said, voice dull. “Before I yanked it away.”
He nodded and set to bandaging as best he could, removing his own outer robe to tear it apart when he ran out of material.
Finally, he was done. It was a poor job, but better than nothing. He considered asking her if she thought the talons and bites were venomous but decided there was no point. Grunting as he rose to his feet, he extended a hand. “Might as well continue.”
She took his hand this time, allowed him to haul her up. “Where do we go?”
Together they turned in slow circles, peering out into the darkness. They both saw it at once. A faint outline, rectangular, a dozen yards away.
“What do you think is in the next room?” asked Lianshi, walking beside him.
“Don’t think it matters too much,” he said. “We’re both in rough shape.”
“I can’t figure it out. Numbers at the base of the tombs. Only ours opening up. And then this series of rooms. Surprise bolts to the stomach. Then… what were those things?”
“Bastards?” he suggested.
“One for each of us. There’s something directing this. It doesn’t feel random.”
They stopped before the thin, chalky-white glow of the outline.
“But to what end?” asked Scorio, knowing there was no answer. “Just to torment us?”
“I wish I knew,” said Lianshi softly. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, why not.” He fumbled at the dark door, found the handle, and pulled it down. Taking a steadying breath, he then pulled it open to be greeted by a rectangle of pale, shimmering white light.
“I’m starting to sense a pattern here,” he said.
“Whoever runs this place, or designed it, doesn’t want us seeing into the next chamber,” she said. “It’s definitely starting to feel like a test.”
“Same as before? We step in, each move to the side to put the wall to our backs? You take the left, I’ll take the right?”
“Sure,” she said. Glancing behind them, she shuddered, then before Scorio could protest, she stepped into the shimmering light and was gone.
He bit back his annoyance, having planned to go first. He thought for a moment of Leonis, the large man’s grin, his steadying presence, and how quickly he’d come to count on his being there.
With a deep pang of regret, then a centering burn of cold rage, he stepped into the light.
Chapter 3
Scorio moved out and to the side, quickly as he could, and stared down a short, irregularly illuminated hallway that ended after some twenty yards in a blank wall.
There were no immediate signs of danger. Scorio glanced sidelong to make sure Lianshi was there, and she was, pressed hard against the wall, eyes wide, breathing deeply as she studied the space before them.
Which was… disorienting at first. A narrow path of fine gravel led from their door down the length of the hall, flanked on both sides by raised slate walkways, and passed through six bands of alternating light and darkness to end at a pair of steps. These rose to a miniature landing set against the far wall, where their exit would no doubt appear.
The illumination came from six transverse slits in the ceiling, one every three yards, each allowing a distinct wall of light to pour down the angled walls and across the floor, creating the glowing outline of a trapezoid. The hallway subtly narrowed as it progressed, so that each outline was smaller than the previous one. From Scorio’s perspective, the six trapezoids thus seemed nested, with the space between them lost in darkness.
“No monsters,” said Lianshi nervously.
“Not yet, at any rate,” agreed Scorio. “Odds are the door appears once we reach the far end. Which means we’ve got to get there.”
“Which means the place must be trapped.” She bit her lip as her brow furrowed. “The light, perhaps? Passing through it will kill us?”
“That’d be impossible to evade. But sure. It’s not like this place has been merciful thus far.” He glanced down. They stood on a duplicate of the far platform. The slate walkways were only a couple of feet wide. He relaxed, eased off the wall, and took a step forward.
Nothing happened.
Leaning down, he peered up at the first angled slit of light that crossed the ceiling. “Should we take the gravel path or one of the raised walkways?”
“Without any information, they’re both a valid choice. We can’t know which is best.”
Scorio lowered himself into an easy crouch, continuing to study the hallway. His arms throbbed painfully, a deep and insistent drain on his focus.
Lianshi joined him at the platform’s edge. “The walls. You see? They’re covered in thin tracings. Black lines.”
Scorio peered at where the closest band of light flooded down the angled wall to see that she was right. Curling incisions, thin as a spider thread. “How did you make that out?”
She shrugged. “You think that’s part of the trap?”
“Must be.”
For a moment they remained still, studying the dark hallway, the nested outlines of the receding trapezoids. The walkways at shin height above the neat central path.
“Perhaps we can just live on this platform forever,” said Lianshi. “If we don’t step forward, we won’t die.”
Scorio looked back and saw that the door was gone. Just smooth gray stone behind them. “An attractive plan. My company is its own reward. But…”
“Yeah,” sighed Lianshi. She’d been holding the last strip of outer robe in one hand, and now placed it between her teeth as she reached back to gather up her thick mane of hair. She twisted it expertly into a thick tail, then tied it off with the strip of cloth. Giving it a couple of yanks to make sure it was secure, she frowned at the hallway again. “Should we go at the same time?”
“I should go first. That way you can see what happens to me and learn from it.”
She leveled a flat stare at him. “Why should you go first?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just feels right.”
She raised a finely arched eyebrow.
He considered. “Maybe I’m getting tired of seeing people die.”
“That I can understand. I say we go together. If there’s one trap, or enemy, that might increase the odds of our getting through.”
“All right. Why not? The walkways?”
“Sure. That gravel path looks too obvious.”
“The walkways, then.” He moved to the far right so that he’d be able to step down with ease. Flexed his fingers, which were growing stiff, the blood that coated them, sticky. Forced himself to ignore the pain that was growing ever more insistent along the length of his arms.
“You know,” began Lianshi, then hesitated. “Well, maybe you don’t. But several times while going through these rooms, I’ve done what Asha mentioned. Reached for something. Something within me. Like I expected something to be there.”
“Did you find something?”
“Nothing.” She frowned, plucked at the bandage around her left arm. “Have you felt that invisible breeze? Since the first time, I mean?”