WYVERN by Grace Draven Page B

stomach at their conversation and lightheaded with fear for Alaric, eased her way back down the ledge as quietly as possible. Her mind raced. She couldn't stay here, hidden away while Malcolm and his cronies marched into Maldoza with their greed and poisoned arrows, ready to ambush Alaric.
    If she left her hiding place, they'd spot her immediately. Elsbeth knew she could outrun Malcolm, but wasn't so sure about Galen or Jamie. Both were whip-thin men, light on their feet and likely fast. That is if they even bothered to try and catch her. They might just fire a bolt into her back and have done with it.
    She could follow them from a distance, staying far enough back so they wouldn't hear or sense her behind them. If her luck held, they'd choose another tunnel to enter, and she could parallel them, following the track now familiar to her and warn Alaric of their coming.
    The second option was truly her only one. Elsbeth crouched in the deep shadow of the crevice and said a silent prayer as the three men walked past her. They didn't slow or stop, oblivious to her presence. She trailed behind them, letting them almost out of her sight and staying close to the sheltering outcroppings jutting up from the path.
    They kept a steady pace. Only once did Jamie slow and look back over his shoulder. Elsbeth froze behind a monolith of sparkling rock and hoped no else heard the thunder of her heartbeat. When they finally reached the caves, she sighed, relieved. Malcolm and his minions chose one of the larger caves to enter.
    During her fortnight with Alaric, she'd learned to navigate some of the tunnels, but not all. Such an endeavor would require a lifetime. Anger and disgust welled up inside her. She prayed they got hopelessly lost, condemned by their own greed to die in Maldoza's black maze of corridors without food or water. Elsbeth had never been one to wish such a fate on anyone, but these three threatened the man she loved and the child he cherished.
    Galen was the last to disappear into the cave, taking reluctant steps until an impatient Malcolm yanked him inside by his shirt front. Elsbeth waited a few moments more before shedding her pack and sprinting into the smaller tunnel that led to Alaric's lair.
    Inside, the tunnel was obsidian black, a smothering darkness that might have overwhelmed her had Alaric not taught her how to feel her way along the walls for markings in case she ever lost her torch.
    Elsbeth was almost to the lair when her luck ran out. Too focused on reaching Alaric before Malcolm did, she'd grown careless and not noticed the faint flicker of light to her right. She'd plowed head first into Jamie, knocking them both down in a tangle of limbs. A flash of steel caught torchlight. Elsbeth screamed and rolled, desperate to avoid being split gullet to belly by Jamie's wicked boning knife.
    She was yanked to her feet and shrieked again at the scorching pain ricocheting across her scalp. Malcolm's blunt features swam before her eyes. He clutched most of her hair in one beefy hand. His breath, more rancid than ever, wafted across her face. Elsbeth gagged.
    "Well, if it isn't the fiddler queen of Byderside. So brave, so noble. Too good for me, but you'll bed down with a great lizard."
    Elsbeth clawed at the hand almost scalping her. "Your own swine in their muck are too good for you, Malcolm." She spat on him. "Wife-killer."
    Malcolm only smiled, revealing yellowed, broken teeth. He wiped her spittle from his cheek, licking it from his fingers. Elsbeth's stomach churned in protest. "Aww, Elsbeth, you shouldn't believe all the stray talk you hear. My Olwen was content. A slap and a tickle now then, a good meal. And knowing who her master was. She forgot sometimes, and I had to remind her sometimes." He shrugged, unrepentant. "Accidents happen."
    His features, bestial in Galen's flickering torchlight, sharpened. Elsbeth groaned, and tears of pain trailed down her cheeks when he tightened his hold on her hair. "Now, you tell