Abruptly, her fingertips lost contact with the left wall, setting off a wave of vertigo. Don't panic. It's just the next doorway, remember? Move ahead, keep your arm out, you'll meet the other jamb.
It took ages … or a few seconds. She must have turned to overcompensate, for the next physical contact came when she banged the far side of the entrance with her elbow. It hurt, yet restored touch felt reassuring. So did getting beyond the doorway. In pure blackness, it was even easier than before to fantasize monsters. Creatures that had no need for light.
The true Stratoins, she thought, trying to tease herself out of a panicky spin. There were silly tales that older siblings told their sisters, about mythical, primal inhabitants of Stratos, driven long ago from sight by the hominid invasion. Once shy, innocent, they now dwelled below-ground, far from the open sky. Bitter, vengeful . . . hungry. It was a fairy tale, of course. No evidence existed, to her knowledge, for anything like it.
But then, I never heard of hundred-meter craters gouging out the middle of mountains, either.
Another doorway swallowed Maia's hand, making her jump higher than the last time, convincing her susceptible imagination that vindictive jaws were about to close, all the way up to her shoulder. When the wall resumed, this time striking her wrist, she let out a physical sigh.
Stop it. Think about something else. Life, the game.
She tried. There was plenty to work with. The speckles that her visual cortex produced, for lack of input from the eyes, created a panorama of ephemeral dots, flickering like Renna's game board, set to high speed. It was alluring to think there might be meaning there. Some great secret or principle, found among the random, background firings taking place inside her own skull.
Then again, maybe not.
Maia grimly picked up the pace, passing another door, and another. Before long, she felt certain the sounds had grown louder, more distinct. Soon she knew her first suspicions were right. It could only be the surge and flood of tide-driven water. I must be all the way down, near the sea.
She caught a scent of fresh air. More important, Maia could almost swear that up ahead the awful darkness was relieved by a faint glimmer. A dim source of light. Even before she consciously made out the floor, it became easier to walk. Faint distinctions in the murky dim gave her more faith in her footing.
Soon they were more than hints. Up ahead, she saw what could only be a reflection. A wall, faintly illuminated by some soft source, out of direct view.
Maia approached cautiously. It was the face of a T-bar intersection, lit from one side. She edged along the right-hand wall, sidled to the corner, and poked around just one eye.
It was another hallway, terminating after about twenty meters in a large chamber. The source of light lay within, though not in view. As she began stalking closer, Maia saw that strange, rippling reflections wavered across the ceiling of the deep room. The plinking sounds were louder, an unmistakable dripping of liquid onto liquid. In the distance, a rolling growl of waves pounded against rock.
So that's it. Maia paused at the entrance, whose once proud double doors now sagged toward the walls, reduced to mold-covered boards bound by rusty hinges. Within, there stood another table, on which lay an oil lantern with a poorly adjusted wick. Beyond, half of the broad alcove descended to a wide pool of seawater. After ten meters, the placid surface passed under a rocky shelf, part of a low tunnel that led toward darkness and finally — judging from the muffled sounds — the open sea. A small boat lay tethered to a dock, mast down, sail furled but ready.
Maia gripped her wooden stave in both hands, ready to swing it, if necessary. She looked left and right, but no one was in view. Nor were there any other exits. The emptiness was more unnerving than any direct confrontation.
Where is she?
Maia approached the table. Next to the lantern lay a boxy case, open to reveal buttons and a small screen. She recognized a comm console, attached to a thin cable that led into the sea-tunnel. An antenna, presumably. Or perhaps a direct fiber link to another island? That sounded extravagant. But over time, it might prove worthwhile, if this prison-trap was used frequently.
The screen was illuminated with one line of tiny print. Perhaps the message would reveal something. Maia put the stave on the table and leaned forward to read.
THERE IS A PRICE FOR NOSINESS …
Oh, bleeders …
Maia snatched her weapon as a shattering din exploded behind her. Swiveling with the dead torch in hand, she glimpsed the ancient, moldy door strike its frame and shatter as a woman-shaped fury charged. Inanna's howl shook the stone walls, making Maia flinch, cleaving air and missing the reaver, who agilely dodged the wild swing, seized Maia's shirt and belt, and used raw strength plus momentum to fling her through the air.
Maia's arc lasted long enough for her to know where she was headed. Releasing the useless stave, she inhaled deeply before bitter water snatched her in an icy fist. Shock spewed half the air back out of her lungs, a force-uneven spray. Still, Maia kept from spluttering at once to the surface. By willpower, she ducked down and kicked, swimming as deep as she could manage and to the right. If it was possible to put in some distance without Inanna knowing, she might be able to clamber out quickly, setting the stage for an even fight — youthful desperation against experience.
An even fight? Don't you wish.
Maia felt her limit nearing. At the last second, she aimed for the sharp, black pool-edge and surfaced. Gasping, she threw her arms over the side, followed by an ankle, straining to lift. But almost at once a lancing pain struck her leg, knocking it back in. Blinking saltwater, Maia saw her foe already standing over her, foot raised for another blow.
Stoked by urgency, she focused on that object and lunged, seizing and twisting. Inanna teetered with a cry and came down hard, loudly striking the stone floor with her pelvis.
Again, Maia struggled to get out. This time she had one knee on the shelf and pushed …
The other woman recovered too quickly. She rolled over, knocking Maia back, throwing her into the water once more. Then Inanna's arms and fists were windmills, landing blows around the girl's head. One hand seized Maia's scalp, pushing her below the surface. Maia pulled hard to get away, to swim elsewhere, even the middle of the pool. The tunnel might offer shelter, of sorts, though beyond that lay the open sea and death.
She got some distance, then stopped with a sudden, jarring yank. Inanna had her hair!
Maia burst out, sucking air, and felt herself hauled back toward the edge. She kicked against the stone jetty, hoping to drag Inanna in with her. But the big woman held fast, pulling Maia near then, once again, resumed pressing Maia's head, forcing her under.
Bubbles escaping her mouth, Maia clutched at her belt. The blanket strips got in the way, but at last she found the sliver of stone. Working it free from folds of belt and trousers brought her almost to her limit before success rewarded her. Desperately, without much effort to aim. she flung her arm around and slashed.
A scream resonated, even underwater. The pressure gave way and Maia emerged, grabbing air with shattered sobs. Then, almost without respite, the hands returned. Maia stabbed at them, connecting another time. Suddenly, her wrist was seized in a solid grip.
"Good move, virgie," the reaver snarled through gritted teeth, biting back pain. "Now we'll do it slowly."
Still holding Maia's wrist, Inanna used her other hand to resume pushing Maia's head deeper . . . then yanked her up again to gasp a reedy wheeze. The blurred expression on the woman's face showed pure enjoyment. Then the moment's surcease ended and Maia plunged down again. Still struggling, she tried to leverage against the wall, straining with her thrashing legs. But Inanna was well braced, and weighed too much to drag by force.