The Water Queens (Keeper of the Water) (29 page)

Hearing this energizes me and I load the next arrow in my bow. There are too many guards to shoot so I aim toward the ceiling and shoot out the lights, plunging the room into darkness and the guards into chaos. In the darkened confusion, John and I rush forward, engaging the unsuspecting men in hand to hand combat. Though we’re outnumbered six-to-one, we easily handle them… at least until I feel the familiar tugging at the back of my mind again.

I grunt in frustration and focus on keeping her out. Cassie’s attempt to invade my mind lasts only seconds but it’s enough for the last remaining guard to punch me squarely in the jaw and knock me down. I see flashes of stars in the darkness as the guard stands over me, raising his walkie-talkie. But he never gets the chance to transmit a message before John lays him out with a single punch.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice interrupting the echo of pained groans from those guards not fully unconscious.

I massage my jaw as he helps me to my feet. The pain isn’t so bad but the embarrassment is. I’m a bit wobbly on my feet but I don’t bother wasting time explaining that I feel woozy from Cassie’s attempted invasion and not the punch.

“Lucky shot,” I mutter.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen a
man
get the better of you.”

I’m not sure if he says this to make fun of me or whether he’s genuinely concerned; either way, I don’t appreciate it.

“And it’s the
last
time you’ll see it, too,” I say, rushing forward though I don’t know where we’re headed.

Deeper into Alhambra we go until reaching a restricted area that has ropes blocking the entrance to a narrow staircase. John takes care of the barrier with a single swipe of his knife. The stairs are steep and spiral down; they’re not even wide enough for us to walk next to each other. It smells damp down here, musty, and the ornate beauty of the rest of the palace is replaced with plain stone walls; this area was obviously never meant to be part of the tour.

“Be careful where you step,” John whispers, though his voice still echoes and bounces around the walls. “It’s not much farther.”

He can’t tell me we’re almost there and expect me
not
to move quicker, despite small puddles of condensation that make the steps slick. Alhambra’s underground level must’ve been dark and scary hundreds of years ago; it’s still not exactly warm and fuzzy though light bulbs illuminate the way. This is one of a few places within the palace where electricity has made its way.

When we reach the bottom, I’m surprised to see how small the space is; it obviously only runs beneath a limited part of the palace. Plenty of boxes and storage crates take up most of the room. A layer of inch-thick dust covers everything down here. John rushes to the far wall, where a single dingy old tapestry hangs on the wall.

“Not the most conspicuous hiding spot for the secret passage, is it?” I ask.

“Nope, and it’s a good thing,” John says. “Do you hear that?”

At first I only notice a dripping sound coming from somewhere nearby. But it’s not long before I hear the distant echo of voices and footsteps. We’ve been lucky enough to remove any threats we’ve encountered thus far but it sounds like the guards have mobilized to come after us.

“Let’s hurry through,” I whisper. “Hopefully they don’t know about this.”

John nods and carefully pulls aside the heavy tapestry. The simple movement of it unleashes a thick cloud of dust. I’m guessing it hasn’t been moved in years, which certainly bodes well for the tunnel’s secrecy. But when the dust clears, I see there must be more secrets John doesn’t know about. There’s no doorway or tunnel entrance, only more blank wall.

CHAPTER THIRTY
             

“Where is it?” I ask.

John’s face is as blank as the wall, shocked into utter confusion. I’d been feeling weaker just moments ago but a shock of anger and worry has re-energized me. John stares at the wall; I’m tempted to smack the back of his head to snap him out of it.

“This is the place, I swear,” he whispers, as much to himself as to me. “I could
never
forget rushing down here with Isabella.”

My eyes narrow in annoyance. It’s not the best time for jealousy to be rearing its ugly head but I can’t stop from thinking of
another
story of when John and
Isabella
spent time in the lower levels of a castle…

“Are you sure the two of you weren’t
busy
and you’re remembering wrong?”

“No, what would we be – ” John stops and turns to me. The shock on his face fades to anger. “Are you
seriously
bringing that up
now
? I told you already, we were down here running for our
lives
. Anyway, I
know
this is where the tunnel was.”

John searches the wall before finally punching the stone in frustration. He grunts and grabs his hand in pain; what is it about some guys that they turn so stupid when they’re mad? But I’m a lot less concerned about the possible crack in his hand and a lot more interested in the long crack in the wall, not to mention the distinct echo just on the other side.

I know John is much stronger than a normal man but I doubt even
he
could make such an indentation in
solid
stone. He’s too busy rubbing his hurt hand so I begin to kick at the wall behind the tapestry. He sees what I’m doing – sees the heavy stone being pushed in – and begins kicking, too. Normal people might need sledgehammers or power tools to get through this wall; John and I only need a few kicks before the stone collapses and the pitch-black tunnel appears.

John looks at me and grins.

“Guess I wasn’t too busy to know where I was going,” he whispers.

I rush into the small passage but John hurriedly collects the broken bits of stone and throws them into the hole before slowly lowering the tapestry. The sounds of the guards’ footsteps are getting louder – and I’m sure they couldn’t have missed our pounding – but anything we can do to slow their pursuit is a positive. With the heavy tapestry lowered, the tunnel is plunged into complete darkness.

John clicks on a small flashlight, always well prepared. He leads us through the narrow tunnel. I try not to think about how old it is, how poorly braced it might be considering the walls are only dirt. Cracks seem to cover half the ceiling and we stumble over plenty of dirt piles along the way. I hope this dirt rained down years ago but a light haze fills the tunnel that must’ve been caused recently.

“How long has this tunnel been sealed off?” I ask.

“Who knows?” John says. “Possibly hundreds of years.”

“Then it hasn’t ever been properly fortified? By modern engineers?” I ask, swallowing hard since I already know that answer.

“Does it look like it has?”

I expect it to be deathly silent down here but I hear – and feel – a distant rumbling. I figured the guards behind us would be our biggest problem but now I wonder if it’s actually the crowds above us. A great big applause suddenly erupts from above, causing even more dirt to rain down on our heads.

“They’re going crazy up there,” I say worriedly.

“The ceremony must’ve started,” John whispers. “But I can’t imagine they’ll get so out of control that they could affect us down – ”

An ear-splitting
crack
cuts him off, the noise so close that it seems to completely surround us. Smatterings of raining dirt quickly turn heavier as the ceiling and tunnel walls crumble. Neither of us has to warn the other to run. John pushes me to get in front of him but he’s the one holding the flashlight, its small beam bouncing so wildly that it doesn’t help me see where I’m going. We bounce off the walls and each other, barely able to stay on our feet; during the frantic run, I can’t help but wonder if this was how John and Isabella’s escape through the tunnel had gone.

With the dirt falling at our heels, John’s and my ability to run faster than any normal human is the only thing preventing us from being buried alive. Still, my energy wane faster than usual. John tries to hook his arm around mine but I don’t want to slow
both
of us down.

“Go!” I yell over the deep
rumbling
. “I need you to light the way!”

“We’re almost there!” John yells back as he passes me, shining the flashlight into the downpour of dirt still ahead.

I try to force my legs to keep up – try to think of Janey to keep me motivated – but fatigue leads to clumsiness and I soon lose the battle with balance. I scramble to my feet and keep pushing forward but the tons of dirt pounding me makes it tough to stay up, tough to get going again. Janey needs at least
one
of her parents to survive long enough to rescue her but I selfishly begin to call out John’s name when I realize I’m about to be buried.

My voice sounds weak compared to the heavy
rumbling
of falling dirt and the flashlight ahead quickly disappears from view, as does everything else once I’m covered in fallen earth. It’s not long before I’m completely inundated, unable to take a breath without sucking in dirt. I refuse to give up – still try to push forward in the dirt – but barely budge even a few inches.

I’m sorry, Janey
…

My vision begins to go black and not just because my eyes are totally blocked. I can’t breathe and feel the weight of so much dirt crushing every bone in my body. I’m not sure consuming any amount of special water could make a person strong enough to sustain such a heavy squeezing. My mind is so crazy with pain that I feel like the crush of dirt is yanking my arm out of the socket…

I burst out of the massive dirt mound, pulled out so suddenly that I crash into John, who still has a tight grip on my arm. My lungs feel like they explode and I spit out mouthfuls of dirt, spraying John with just as much saliva as earth. But he doesn’t give me time to recover before picking me up and hurrying through the rest of the tunnel. Dirt continues to fall yet not quite as heavily.

We suddenly stop and I wriggle my way out of his arms. The cave-in has stopped – at least in this part of the tunnel – and we can go no farther, reaching another brick wall.

“I need you to tell the truth,” John says once my coughing finally relaxes. “Are you okay to keep going?”

“Janey needs my help,” I whisper hoarsely.

“You aren’t yourself,” he says. “And Janey will be in much worse shape if she has no mother to raise her.”

I hate to admit it but I
am
weak, which has already slowed me down and nearly led to being buried alive. This Keeper link with Cassie is draining me and I’m not sure there’s any way to stop it. I look down at my watch in the darkness and see we’re already behind the schedule we set with Harriet and Amelia. So even though quitting might’ve once seemed unimaginable, it’s even
worse
to consider slowing down the three people who have the best chance to rescue Janey and stop Cassie.

“You should go on by yourself,” I say. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

John looks surprised by my admission but nods.

“Why don’t you try to dig your way back to Alhambra?” he suggests. “If the guards chasing us weren’t buried alive, I’m sure they must expect that we
were
.”

I doubt he expects me to dig through tons of dirt so this must be his way of trying to stop me following him into danger. I have no desire to play in the dirt but don’t want to slow him down any longer. I merely nod and wish him good luck before fading farther back in the tunnel so he’ll continue going. Once he proceeds forward with the plans, I fully intend to follow at a distance and protect his rear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Janey back,” he says as I walk away.

“You better.”

Seconds later, I hear him pound against the wall leading somewhere into Generalife. Light suddenly streams into the tunnel but I remain in the shadows as he busts through the heavy stone. But he no sooner clears away debris when the sound of a familiar voices sends chills through me.

“Move another inch and you die.”

In one smooth motion, I pull the bow off my shoulder and load an arrow into the string. Dirt encrusts the arrow and I can tell that being covered with so much earth bent my bow. Attacking at a distance might not result in the straightest shot but shooting at close range shouldn’t be affected.

“Countess Isabella
knew
you’d try to come this way,” Catherine says. “Where is Sacajawea?”

“Yeah, where’s she hiding?” another queen says.

“Mary told us the two of you are always together,” a third member of Cassie’s clan says.

I don’t know how many enemies are waiting out there but it’s obvious Catherine isn’t traveling lightly. I want to rush out and attack but I’m weaker than usual and have no idea what I’m up against; I can’t take the risk of getting us both killed. Instead, I keep my bow ready and stick to the shadows as far into the tunnel as I can retreat, moving quietly back until I barely hear the voices from inside Generalife.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she’s not even with me,” John tells them. “I came to Granada looking for her but haven’t found her. I don’t have time to look for
anyone
but my daughter.”

“And you expect us to believe that?” Catherine asks.

“Yeah, we know you’re lying,” another says.

“I could care less
what
you believe,” John says. “All I know is I’ve got no time for this. You can either kill me now or take me to my daughter.”

There’s general laughter from the queens, five or six different shrill cackles, the sound of which makes my blood boil. My hands shake in anger and I wish I could put arrows through every queen threatening my husband. For all I know, they could be ready to strike him down at any second. Remaining still and possibly letting this happen is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, though it’s required unless I want to leave Janey an orphan.

“Believe me, I’d love to run
both
these swords through you but Isabella wants to see you… badly,” Catherine says. “Though if you tried to resist, we’d
have
to defend ourselves…” Several long seconds pass before she speaks again. “That’s what I thought. And if you think we’re foolish enough to believe you’re alone, you’ve got another thing coming. You two, go in there and find our
former
Keeper.”

This time, it’s
John’s
turn to laugh.

“Yeah, good luck with that. The damn tunnel collapsed as I was coming here,” he says. “Actually, maybe
all
of you should go in there to look for her, just as long as I get to wait out here.”

“It
does
like look he’s covered in dirt,” one of the queens says.

“And look, he’s still
fine
,” Catherine snaps at the woman, in much the same way I’ve heard Cassie snap at her. “A little dirt never hurt anyone. Now get in there and find Sacajawea.”

I hear the crumbling of more stone wall being pushed in as several queens enter the tunnel. Their footsteps slowly approach and I aim my bow, ready to make my final stand rather than let them capture me. I stand directly in front of the wall of collapsed dirt, unable to retreat any farther. The queens will be here any second, possibly the final fight of my life if there are too many of them…

The slightest twinkle of light filters down the tunnel but it’s enough for me to see a huge crack in the ceiling. Very little dirt still falls, though I’m nervous when I look up into the hole of blackness, as if the earth may collapse again at any moment. With the queens just a few feet around the corner, I make the split second decision to sling the bow back over my shoulder and jump as high as I can. The ceiling hole is only a few feet wide and while there’s nothing for me to grab hold of, I punch my fists into the dirt walls hard enough to brace myself and stop from falling back down.

The earth is damp and I feel my body weight starting to drag me down, starting to cause more of the dirt hole to collapse. I kick both of my feet far into the sidewalls, which slows my rate of collapse, at least for now. There’s a hint of movement beneath me but I hope my body can’t be seen in the darkness. If the queens below suddenly look up and spot me, I’m in a very vulnerable position. It doesn’t help my nerves when my hands and feet begin to dislodge and rain dirt upon the queens below.

“I’m not digging through that pile,” says one of the queens.

“If Catherine wants to play in the dirt,
she
can,” another whispers.

More dirt crumbles around my hands and feet; this hole isn’t going to hold me much longer. I finally collapse to the floor, riding down a wave of dirt. I expect to fall atop the queens but their instincts are sharp and they’re out of the way before I hit the ground. For the second time in minutes, I’m on the ground with pounds of dirt bombarding me from above; I’m lucky that swords and spears don’t join this assault on me. I scramble out from the earthen avalanche and hear footsteps running in the opposite direction.