Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Galvin, Aaron (classic fiction txt) 📖

“If Marisa told you that,” said Chidi. “Then you will.”

Allambee beamed at her.

“Come on, then,” she said, tugging at him to follow her back inside. “We better both get back down there and save Bryant from Marisa talking to him.”

“Or save her from him,” Allambee replied, coaxing another chuckle from Chidi at the idea of Bryant and Marisa carrying on below in further argument over how five pieces could also be two.

10

SYDNEY

Held in the same glass aquarium tank that the Blackfin had drowned her in to force the Nomad changes, Sydney had little room to swim. Then, as now, she kept her Nomad tail in spite of the king and his minions. Rather than cast her back into the oubliette, Darius had opted to leave her treading water vertically inside the tank with several feet both above her and below with which to ascend or sink to the bottom.

Several Orc guards loyal to the Blackfin had stood watch over her throughout the night, all vigilant and silent until the moment others came to swap them out.

When the door to her outer dungeon cell opened, Sydney had thought it for another changing of the guard. Her assessment proved wrong when she spotted the brutish commander leading the others inside – the same Orc who had led those that captured her and Yvla in the sewers before delivering them to the Blackfin. Solomon . . . Sydney thought his name as he lumbered toward her tank. This is it then, isn’t it? They’ve finally come to take me away for mom’s trial.

Though smaller in stature and body size than his lord commander, Solomon towered over the contingent of other Orcs all dressed in Painted Guard armor. The other Orcs took up flanking sides of the glass aquarium cell that held Sydney captive. With a wave from Solomon, the others opened the latch at the bottom of Sydney’s tank.

Sydney pawed at the glass for purchase as the water flooded out beneath her. For all her attempts, she could not hold her position inside the tank. Instead, she fell and collapsed onto the slick, wet stones below. She was already reverting her tail to human legs when a shadow stood over her.

Solomon’s lip curled at the sight and smell of her, but he said nothing of his apparent disdain. Instead, he gave a nod to someone Sydney did not see behind her.

A blindfold was swept over her eyes and pulled tight.

Sydney cried out at the jerk of it being tied off behind her head. “Wait!” was all she could say before a wet rag that tasted of soiled seawater was forced into her mouth and tied off around the back of her head, gagging anything further she might attempt to say. The Orcs were at her arms too, binding her wrists together. Another brute lifted her off the ground, throwing Sydney over his armored shoulder as if she weighed no more than a child.

Sydney grunted a muffled, angry response as they bore her away. She struggled to no avail, her fists clanking off the Orc’s armor, hurting her more than she imagined her flailing attempts bothered the guard who carried her. No matter what she did, her escort wordlessly continued on whilst the clanking armor and heavy footfalls upon cobbled stone echoed in her ears.

Pitched in familiar darkness to which she had become accustomed when imprisoned inside the oubliette, Sydney surrendered her struggle. Instead, she focused all her strength on listening to better gauge her surroundings with the hope of learning whatever destination the Orcs were taking her. Throughout, she heard the sounds of more creaking doors. The Orc footfalls changed from continued, steady thumps to then climbing up spiraled staircases of stone, the echo of their heavy boots resounding off the tighter, enclosed walls.

Where are we going? She wondered, trying to discern the echoes for any place she might have been as the Orcs continued on. The air had changed too – once damp and clammy, she swore it was cleaner now, fairer in scent and warmer too. Sydney gathered the air might have tasted sweeter also, if not for the now drying out rag in her mouth.

As the Orcs bore her onward, Sydney thought back on a memory of Quill’s teachings. You must learn to see, girl . . .

Sydney tilted her head then, trying to readjust and better listen for any further clues as to where she might be, or where the Orcs were taking her. As she had failed with her training in the oubliette with the bone wand and raggedy, self-made whip, so too did Sydney fail now, her mind not registering anything of worthy note or memory of where she was or might possibly be headed toward.

What felt to Sydney like an hour later, her Orc carrier slid her off his shoulder and settled her feet to frigid tiles, then ripped the blindfold away.

Sydney blinked away the forced blindness, her eyes adjusting to new surroundings. Much like the dungeons below, the surrounding walls and floor looked much the same, all save for some few furnishments – a great wooden washtub and a royal gown of emerald green, draped over a high-backed wooden chair.

Solomon stood beside the chair and gown, his rough fingers running over the smooth, royal fabric. When he caught sight of Sydney watching him, however, he nodded to a pair of Silkie handmaidens that Sydney had not yet seen.

Solomon waved them forward. “Right, clean her up,” he said to the handmaidens. “Best as you can anyway. She ought to smell better anyway. The king wishes her to be presentable while at the traitor trials.”

Trials? Sydney cringed. As in multiple? Not just Mom?

Idiot girl, she read the look in Solomon’s gaze as the Silkies heeded his command. Are you so stupid to think you and your friends would escape being tried for treason too?

Sydney’s eyes stung at the thought of having already witnessed the Blackfin tormenting Owens and Amelia too. Her vision blurred when