Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (38 page)

A hand locked onto Danielle’s elbow with a tight unwavering grip.

Danielle jumped as gale force panic raced through her heart and flashed through the back of her head. She suppressed a scream. The room spun as she struggled for air, and her knees went weak and rubbery.

Warm breath tickled her neck as whispered words came hot in her ear. “Danielle, it’s okay. I’m here,” Ronan said.

Relief flowed through her, and she spun to find the welcome sight of her brother standing behind her. “Did you see him Ronan?” Her words came out low with desperate urgency.

“Yes. And I’ve seen at least five knights guarding the room. The front door’s covered. We can’t get out that way. Maybe there’s another exit through the terrace. Let’s go.” He pulled his hat lower, took Danielle’s hand and led her through the crowded bar toward the patio.

Danielle scanned the audience as she let Ronan pull her deeper through the inn. Cold fear tugged at her brain when she saw a face she recognized.

Knight Bryson stood at the empty table Danielle left only a minute earlier. The waiter, Garr, returned to the empty table carrying a bottle of cold white summer wine and a pair of wineglasses. Bryson spoke a few words to the waiter, and his eyes scanned the room.

Danielle tried to speak. She needed to tell Ronan about the shard knight, but the words failed her. They wouldn’t come through the fear locking her throat shut.

Ronan strode through the inn with calm focused determination. The crowd parted for him like a school of mackerel before a marauding shark.

She clung to Ronan’s hand not daring to loosen her grip. The over-sized bag swung from her shoulder as the poodle’s head peered out scanning the room. The floor changed beneath her feet, and the breeze coming off Lake Latimer cooled her face. They’d reached the veranda.

Marisa Madsen’s song came faster and louder building toward a climax as Ronan searched for any sign of an exit. “There’s no way out Danielle. We’re twenty feet over the lake.”

Bryson focused his gaze on the patio straining to see past the myriad of guests blocking his view. He bulled through the crowd moving toward the patio and pushed an elderly woman from his path.

“He’s coming Ronan! Why would Tyrell send us here? We’re trapped,” she said.

Wide-eyed, Ronan jerked his head toward Danielle. “What did you say?”

“I said we’re trapped.”

“Not that. What did you say about Tyrell?”

Bryson stepped onto the patio a dozen yards away as Marissa Madsen’s song neared its climax.

“Why would Master Tyrell send us here?” Her voice trembled. “He’s almost on us Ronan.” She gripped his hand squeezing with desperation.

“That’s it Danielle.” Ronan dragged Danielle to the patio bar.

The stunning blue-eyed female bartender looked at Ronan and tilted her head squinting as if trying to place him.

Ronan stripped away his hat flashing locks of dark wavy hair and whispered to the young blond bartender. “Patron Tyrell sends his regards to little Athena.”

Marisa Madsen’s song climaxed, and the singer’s trance-like effect ended. Every audience member leaped at once roaring approval and trapping Bryson in their wake.

Bryson strained to look above the raucous crowd, but the wall of bodies blocked his view.

The bartender’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ronan! This way. Hurry!” She motioned behind the bar.

Danielle followed Ronan, and they ducked behind the bar where the young woman opened a trapdoor revealing a set of damp wooden stairs.

Ronan plunged downward entering a wall of black darkness.

Danielle followed eager to escape and grateful for her brother’s fast thinking.

Ronan waited halfway down the stairway and reached for Danielle’s hand. “Take my hand Danielle.”

She groped in the darkness until she found his hand and continued downward. The smell of damp musty lake water greeted her as she let Ronan lead her into pitch-black darkness.

The trapdoor leading into the Golden Tap slammed shut, and a heavy bolt slid into place.

“We’re in a small square room Danielle,” Ronan said.

Danielle let her bag slink along her arm, and she placed it on the stone floor. She fumbled through the bag until she found her belt pouch. “Hold on a second.”

The little dog jumped clear of the bag, and Rika shifted into her human form. “Do you think he saw us?” Rika said.

“He saw something suspicious, but I don’t think he saw us,” Ronan said. “If he did, we’d have a squadron of shard knights pounding on that trapdoor.”

Danielle sifted through her belt pouch in total darkness until she found the seed she wanted and tossed it onto the floor. She pushed magic into the seed, and a phosphorescent moss covered the ground emitting a soft green light. “That’s better.”

The stone room offered no exit other than the door leading upward to the veranda. Four stone walls surrounded the trio with a damp stone floor beneath.

“Who was the pretty blond girl working the bar? She knew you.” Rika said.

“That’s Athena. Tyrell’s goddaughter. Although she’s changed quite a bit. I barely recognized her.”

“What do we do now?” Danielle said.

“We’ll wait until it’s clear, and Athena opens the door,” Ronan said.

Somewhere deep under the stone floor, a loud click resonated, and a moment later, the stone floor shifted.

Danielle’s stomach sank as the floor beneath her feet moved. “Is the floor moving?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like it,” Ronan said.

A low rumble echoed through the small stone room as the floor continued to slide downward.

“The walls aren’t changing,” Rika said. “I think the whole room is moving.”

Danielle held her breath as the room vibrated, and the low rumble grew louder. The strange sensation of movement in a tight closed-off space sent flutters of dizziness through her head. Cold damp sweat covered her forehead, and she leaned against the wall.

The room shuddered then stopped, but the low rumbling continued with its sound muffled.

“It stopped.” Rika placed her hand against the stone wall and glanced toward the trapdoor.

Ronan dashed up the wooden stairway and pushed his shoulder into the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t force it Ronan. We don’t know what’s going on here,” Danielle said.

The room started moving, but slower this time, and the wall’s vibration decreased.

“Agreed,” he said backing away from the trapdoor.

“I don’t remember seeing water on the floor a minute ago,” Rika said. She pointed to small puddles of water stretched along the floor’s edges.

“The air felt damp when we came down here, but I don’t recall seeing any standing water,” Danielle said.

“Look at the puddle. It’s moving,” Ronan said.

Water seeped in at a faster rate leaving no doubt about the room’s condition. The phosphorescent moss Danielle had brought to life a few minutes ago glowed green beneath an inch of standing water. Her bag floated on top.

Panic gripped Danielle when she noticed the bag. “The book’s in my shoulder bag! This water will destroy it.”

Rika grabbed Danielle’s bag and tossed it to her. “Can you protect it?”

“I think so.” Danielle reached into her pouch and found the seed she needed. She pulled the dry book from the bag, placed the seed on top, and channeled nature magic.

The seed burst forth enormous green palm fronds that wrapped the book in a cocoon of thick watertight leaves multiple layers deep.

“That should keep it dry,” she said. “But it won’t stop us from drowning.”

“Let’s not panic,” Ronan said. “Athena wouldn’t put our lives at risk.”

“Really? How well do you know her Ronan? You haven’t seen her in, what, five years?” Danielle said.

“Master Tyrell trusted her. That’s good enough for me,” he said.

“Maybe she doesn’t know this room is filling with water. Maybe she thinks it’s watertight, and we’re safe,” Rika said.

Conversation stopped as a loud clattering noise came from directly beneath the stone floor. A moment later, the room plummeted.

Danielle braced herself as water sprayed like a geyser through cracks in the stone walls and floor.

Within seconds, the water climbed to knee level.

“Ronan, forget what I said. Break open the door. We’re going to drown in here,” Danielle said.

Water sprayed through ceiling cracks increasing the rate of the rising water.

Ronan set his shoulder against the door and pushed. The door’s frame bent under his shard infused strength causing water to pour in through the surrounding cracks.

The water slammed into Ronan and sent him flailing backward. He splashed into the chest-high water still rising in the stone room.

Danielle held the covered book above her head trying to keep it dry for as long as possible. As the water rose higher, she found herself treading water moving upward toward the stone ceiling only a few feet away.

“Rika, can you transform into a fish? At least you could let someone know what happened here,” Ronan said.

“I can’t. I haven’t bound any water creatures yet.” She spit out a mouthful of water.

“Once the water pressure evens out, I’ll force open the trapdoor, and we’ll swim out.” He yelled to overcome the water’s roar.

“If we can hold our breath that long,” Danielle said. “I’ve no idea how deep into the lake we’ve gone.” Danielle’s face pressed against the rough stone ceiling.

An inch of breathable air remained as the water rose higher.

“Take a deep breath and hold it!” Ronan gulped in air just as the rising water met the ceiling.

Danielle sucked in a huge lungful of air and disappeared beneath Lake Latimer’s chilly waters.

The Book

Lake Latimer’s warm summer water filled the stone chamber from floor to ceiling leaving Ronan, Rika, and Danielle trapped with only the air in their lungs keeping them alive.

Ronan’s heart raced as he surged through the murky water toward the trapdoor.

Fear and desperation rimmed Rika’s eyes as she silently pleaded for him to hurry.

Danielle hugged the ceiling next to Rika cradling the leaf wrapped book in her arms.

He could hold his breath a long time under water. Shard magic would give him ten minutes before he ran out of breath, but the women couldn’t wait that long. He had three minutes, at best, to find fresh air for Rika and Danielle. If he didn’t, he might as well join them in their watery grave.

Ronan jammed his body against the stairway and placed his feet on the trapdoor. He pushed with shard infused strength, and the door groaned.

He floated up a step and pressed his body into a compact ball and readied his legs to push. Determination turned to shock as retreating water pulled him from the steps and sent him spinning across the watery room.

Water fled the stone room from a missing wall depositing Ronan, Rika, and Danielle in a heap on a small sandy underground beach.

Rika choked and spit out water as she rolled off the soaking trio. She sat up and pulled in deep lungfuls of fresh air.

Danielle rolled off still clutching the leaf covered book sputtering mouthfuls of water.

Ronan sprang to his feet and readied for a fight.

Sir Alcott Agers and Devery Tyrell stood wearing stunned expressions a dozen yards away.

“Of all the bloody times for a contraption to fail.” Sir Alcott ran a hand through his curly gray hair and spun on Devery. “I thought you fixed it Devery.” His words tinged with anger.

“I forgot to fix it. With everything that’s happened I…it slipped my mind.” Devery sagged releasing a large iron lever attached to the stone chamber. “I’m sorry Ronan, if I’d known you’d need to come down that way, I would’ve fixed it. I apologize.” Devery’s puffy red rimmed eyes and sallow complexion marked a man grieving.

“It looks like you’ve heard,” Ronan said.

“Aye. We know,” Sir Alcott said. “When a man like Patron Tyrell goes down in battle, word spreads.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Devery. I know how close you were to your brother,” Ronan said.

Devery nodded. “Thank you Ronan.”

“I never wanted Patron to sacrifice his life,” Ronan’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered his gaze to the sand.

“The night Patron lost you and your mother he was a broken man Ronan,” Sir Alcott said. “Finding you alive and well after five years was all he ever wanted. Saving your life at North Camp let some old deep wounds of his heal. He died with honor just as he lived. Hold your head high lad. You’ve earned no shame from his death.”

Ronan recalled his conversation with Tyrell during their trip north. Master Tyrell had brought him back from the brink when he’d lost hope. The sharp pang of loss spread through him like a fever. He wanted to mourn, but he couldn’t grieve the man as he deserved. Not yet. “Thanks Sir Alcott. I know, but that doesn’t make me miss him any less.”

Sir Alcott placed a beefy hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “No lad it doesn’t. I’m sorry.”