Solace Arisen Read Online Free

cleverness.

DUSK
    Solace, later that day
    I t seemed to Degarius he’d slept only a moment when a voice was ordering him to wake. He cracked his eyes open. Light the color of dirty dishwater barely lit the room. Was it dawn or dusk?
    “You must get up.” He heard the woman’s voice more clearly. Urgency filled it. It was Hera Musette.
    Sitting up and reaching for his glasses sent a ripping pain across his back. Whatever the Solacian monk had given him to dull the pain of the stitches had worn off. An explicative was on his tongue, but he checked it. “What’s going on?”
    Hera Musette handed him a gray hooded tunic. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
    “Where’s my coat?” He looked to the side of the cot. No boots or sword. “What have you done with my sword?”
    “It’s safe and will be returned. Put on the tunic and come now,” she barked like a sergeant, “if you want to keep your head.”
    “What?”
    “Acadians.”
    Degarius, in the monk’s tunic and sock feet, followed her through the maze of corridors. Behind them, an echoing clatter began. Boots rushing down a stairwell. Hera Musette clasped his hand and pulled him into a trot. They turned a corner. His sock feet slid over the worn-smooth stone, as if he’d hit a patch of ice. His hand tore free of hers and grasped at the air for balance. His knee crashed into the floor. Planting his palms on the floor, he sprang up.
    Ahead, girls carrying baskets of apples were walking single file. Their eyes popped wide and they stopped. They thought he was chasing Hera Musette. Damn, if they screamed it was over. Hera Musette reached back to grab his hand again. She clasped her other hand over her mouth. Damn, the woman could think on her feet.
    As they passed the girls, Hera Musette wheezed, “You saw nothing.”
    They raced down the corridor. How did a short, stout woman move so fast? Or had the draught made him slow? She darted into a narrow passage that led to a door. As she opened the door, a man’s voice questioning the women resonated through the hallway.
    Hera Musette closed the door behind them. It was a small chapel, filled with pillows for kneeling. Three ceiling-to-floor tapestries hung on one wall: Lukis, Paulus, and in the center, one of a grave-looking, gray-dressed woman. Hera Musette went to the one closest to the darkening windows, the tapestry of Paulus, and pushed it aside. Underneath was a half-sized door.
    “Hurry, open it,” she whispered.
    Degarius pulled the handle. It was carved into the wood so the tapestry would lay flat against it. Hera Musette ducked inside, and he crouched to follow. Passing through, his shoulder scraped the doorframe. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he turned to ensure the tapestry was in place and closed the door.
    They were at the top of a tight stairway ingeniously lit by windows high above. This time of day, it was nearly dark. He followed Hera Musette downstairs to a small, dirt-floored chamber in the footings of the building. In the dim light, he made out a long, low box shape in the center of the room. A crypt? Hera Musette kneeled beside it and clenched her hands together. Degarius thought he heard a door open in the room above but couldn’t be sure. Not trusting his hearing, he watched Hera Musette who was so focused she seemed to have stopped breathing. What was he to do if they found the door? They’d take him like a sheep for slaughter. They would take her for harboring a fugitive. Damn these Solacians. At least they could have left him his sword to go down fighting. He could pretend to have a knife and make a show of keeping her captive so they’d think her a hostage instead of an accessory.
    Hera Musette’s clasped hands drooped onto the crypt. “Blessed Founder, they’re gone. Soldier, we must stay until the superior sends for us.”
    Degarius pressed his temples. “How could they know? No one saw it.”
    “What a gross violation to search Solace. Not that the superior would let them find