The hawk-nosed hunter's voice, that low, smooth rasp, seemed to coil through the mist like cold smoke. "Alive preferred," he repeated, his hand hovering near the pouch at his belt. "But the Church pays extra for intact tongues. Less arguing during the confession, see."
Gaius felt the icy water seeping deeper into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the glacial dread spreading through his veins. His mind scrabbled, draining the last dregs of his magical reserves. Not for offense – he had nothing potent enough – but for a final, desperate gamble. He focused on the mist itself, the clinging dampness, whispering forbidden phrases that twisted perception, begging the very air to thicken, to blur, to swallow them whole. Silver light flickered weakly in his eyes, a dying ember.
Before Silas (the name materialized in Gaius's mind with chilling certainty) could act, Preston moved.
It wasn't the panicked flinch Gaius expected. It was a blur of calculated fury. She didn't cower behind him; she used him as a momentary screen, darting low and to the side in the same heartbeat Gaius raised his pathetic kitchen knife. Her hand, small and surprisingly quick, flashed beneath her rough tunic. Not towards Silas, but towards the ground near his feet.
A small, weighted pouch – filled with river pebbles and the gritty residue from her disguise kit – flew from her hand, scattering directly onto the slick, algae-covered rocks Silas stood upon.
Silas, expecting resistance from the front, instinctively shifted his weight to avoid the minor distraction. His boot sole, finding no purchase on the suddenly treacherous surface, slid fractionally.
It was the opening Preston needed. She didn't hesitate. Lunging forward with a feral snarl that shattered her 'Perry' persona, she struck not at his blade, but at his wrist. Her other hand, now holding a thin, wicked-looking stiletto Gaius hadn't known she possessed (hidden in her boot? Sewn into her sleeve?), flashed upwards in a vicious arc aimed not for a killing blow, but to disable.
Silas was fast, frighteningly so. He jerked his blade hand back, the stiletto scraping harmlessly against the leather bracer protecting his forearm. But the dodge cost him balance. He staggered back another half-step, his cold eyes widening momentarily in surprise, then narrowing with predatory interest. "Feisty little mouse," he hissed, regaining his footing with unnerving grace.
Gaius didn't waste Preston's reckless, headstrong gift. While Silas was momentarily focused on her, Gaius unleashed the gathered distortion. It wasn't an attack, but a localized sensory overload. He poured his exhaustion, his fear, his will to vanish, into the mist swirling around Silas's head. The air thickened unnaturally, shimmering with displaced light. Silas's sharp features blurred; the sounds of dripping water and their ragged breathing warped into a discordant, directionless hum.
Silas cursed, a sharp, guttural sound, swiping a hand through the miasma as if clearing cobwebs. His movements lost their predatory precision for a crucial second.
"NOW!" Preston screamed, not waiting for Gaius. She was already scrambling backwards, not towards the way they came, but laterally along the ravine wall, towards a tangle of thick, thorny undergrowth spilling down from the slope above. Her eyes, wide but blazing with defiance, scanned the rocks and roots. "Here! There's a gap!"
Gaius followed, his limbs leaden. He saw what she'd spotted: a dark, irregular hole beneath a massive, water-slicked boulder, partially obscured by hanging vines and thorn bushes. It looked like an animal den, or perhaps the entrance to an underground stream channel. It looked like a desperate gamble.
Silas roared, the distorted mist clinging stubbornly. He lashed out blindly with his long blade, the steel whistling through the air where Gaius had stood a moment before. The sensory distortion was fading fast; Gaius had poured everything into it. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision.
Preston didn't wait. She dropped to her knees, ignoring the thorns tearing at her trousers, and plunged headfirst into the dark hole. "Move, Gaius!" Her voice echoed, muffled, from the darkness.
Gaius threw himself down, scrambling after her. The hole was tight, barely wider than his shoulders, smelling of damp earth and decay. Sharp rocks scraped his back. He kicked backwards blindly, hoping to dislodge some debris to block the entrance, but only succeeded in scraping his boots.
A hand grabbed his ankle from within the darkness. Preston's grip was surprisingly strong. "Pull your legs in! He's coming!"
Gaius wriggled frantically, dragging himself deeper just as Silas's furious face appeared at the entrance, contorted with rage. His blade stabbed into the opening, missing Gaius's heel by inches. He tried to reach in, but the boulder and thorns blocked his shoulders.
"You think a rat hole saves you?" Silas spat, his voice raw with fury. "I'll smoke you out! Dig you out! There's nowhere in this damned county you can hide that I won't find you, Plythe! And I'll take extra pleasure with the little noble whore now!"
Gaius kept crawling, the darkness absolute, guided only by Preston's insistent tugging on his ankle. The tunnel angled sharply downwards, the air growing colder and damper. The sound of Silas's threats faded, replaced by the dripping of water and their own harsh breathing.
After several agonizing minutes of blind crawling, the tunnel widened slightly. Preston stopped pulling. Gaius collapsed onto his side, gasping, the world spinning. He felt Preston fumbling beside him, then the scrape of flint. A tiny, guttering flame sprang to life in her hand, illuminating her face – smeared with mud, hair matted with leaves, but her hazel eyes burning with fierce triumph and adrenaline.
"See?" she panted, a wild grin splitting her grimy face. "Not just a pretty nuisance." She held up the stiletto, its blade gleaming wickedly in the small light. "Father insisted on fencing lessons. Said a Lily should never be defenseless. He meant against courtly intrigue, probably. Not bounty hunters in ravines." Her grin faltered slightly, looking at Gaius. "You look like death warmed over. That… mist thing?"
"Buying time," Gaius rasped, his throat raw. "Cost… more than I had." He felt hollowed out, worse than after any previous ritual. "He saw through your disguise. Called you noble."
Preston's expression hardened. "Doesn't matter. He's seen my face now anyway. Perry's dead. Preston Lily is officially a fugitive." She looked around the small, damp cavern they found themselves in. Water trickled down one wall, pooling in a shallow basin. The tunnel continued downwards, deeper into the earth, dark and forbidding. "This looks like an old sinkhole channel. Might lead somewhere. Might collapse. What's the plan, Grumpy?"
Gaius forced himself to sit up, leaning against the cold rock. His mind felt sluggish. "Silas won't give up. He'll find a way down or wait above. His partner…" He remembered the stocky hunter flanking them. "They'll converge." He looked at the descending tunnel. "Down. It's the only way. Pray it leads out before we run out of air or meet something worse than Silas."
Preston nodded, her earlier bravado tempered by the grim reality. She didn't argue. Instead, she carefully extinguished the tiny flame, plunging them back into absolute darkness. "Lead the way," she said, her voice steady. "Or crawl, rather. My eyes are no better than yours down here."
They crawled for what felt like hours. The tunnel narrowed, widened, twisted, and descended relentlessly. They waded through icy, ankle-deep water, squeezed through cracks that scraped skin raw, and fought claustrophobia that threatened to choke them as effectively as Silas. Preston followed closely, her breathing controlled but audible. She didn't complain, didn't falter. When Gaius stopped, exhausted, she nudged him. "Keep moving. Stopping is dying."
He pushed on, driven by her relentless will as much as his own fear. He could almost feel Silas's cold gaze on his back, hear the scrape of tools digging above. The air grew thin and stale.
Suddenly, the tunnel floor disappeared. Gaius's hand plunged into empty space. He froze, heart hammering.
"Drop?" Preston whispered from behind.
"Feels like it," Gaius breathed. He fumbled for a loose stone and tossed it forward. They heard it clatter down, bouncing off rock for several seconds before landing with a distant plonk in water. "Long drop. Maybe ten, fifteen feet? Water at the bottom."
"Can't go back," Preston stated flatly. "Silas is probably halfway down the ravine by now. We jump."
"Blind? Onto rocks?"
"Better than his blade," she retorted. Her hand found his shoulder in the dark, squeezing hard. "On three. Aim for the splash sound. Tuck and roll if you hit stone. One… Two… THREE!"
She didn't hesitate. Gaius heard the scrape of her boots as she pushed off, then a splash. He sucked in a breath and jumped into the abyss.
The fall was terrifyingly brief. Icy water shocked the air from his lungs as he plunged deep. He kicked upwards, breaking the surface, gasping and sputtering. The darkness was still absolute, but the air felt… different. Larger. He could hear the steady drip of water echoing.
"Preston?" he choked out.
"Here!" Her voice echoed nearby. "Cold! But no broken bones. Where are we?"
Gaius tread water, orienting himself by sound. The dripping echoed from multiple directions. "Some kind of underground pool. Cave, maybe." He swam cautiously towards her voice, his hand brushing against a smooth, submerged rock ledge. He hauled himself up, shivering violently. Preston scrambled up beside him.
"We need light," she said, her teeth chattering. "Risk it?"
Gaius listened intently. No sounds of pursuit. Just water and echoes. "Quickly."
The scrape of flint, a tiny spark, then a small flame bloomed in Preston's cupped hands. They shielded it with their bodies, looking around.
They were in a sizable cavern. Stalactites hung like stone teeth from a ceiling lost in gloom. The pool they'd fallen into fed a slow-flowing underground river that vanished into a dark tunnel on the far side. The air was cold and damp but breathable. The walls glistened wetly. Behind them, the shaft they'd fallen down was invisible in the darkness above.
"An aquifer cave," Preston breathed, awe momentarily replacing fear. "It must connect to the river system. If we follow the water…"
A distant, muffled CRACK echoed down the shaft, followed by a rumble and a shower of dust and small rocks.
"Silas," Gaius said grimly. "He's clearing the entrance. Or his partner is."
Preston's eyes darted to the dark river tunnel. "Then we swim. Or wade. Whatever it takes." She looked at Gaius, her face fierce in the flickering light. "You bought us time with your magic. I bought us time with my knife. Now we buy distance with cold water and darkness. Come on, Heretic. Let's vanish."
She didn't wait for agreement. She slid off the ledge back into the icy water, holding the tiny flame aloft as she struck out towards the dark tunnel mouth. Gaius, shivering, hollowed, but momentarily invigorated by her sheer, stubborn refusal to die, pushed off the ledge and followed the defiant spark of light into the unknown current. The water swallowed them, leaving only ripples and the fading echo of falling rocks far behind.