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This place was a perfect prison. Thoughtfully I stared at Arcoro and his males who came to stare at the newcomers. The males had spent all their lives here, just as countless generations had done before them. They had never seen the sun or the moons. Never smelled a breath of fresh ocean air. I shook my head, unable to imagine what their lives had been like.
A surge of anger built inside me. I would be damned, if I spent the rest of my life here. Never to know Niara’s tender kiss again, feel her arms around me—abruptly I stopped. What would Sarissa do to her?
“Snyg!” I cursed out loud.
I needed to get us out of here.
And from the looks of it, there was only one way out, up.
“Do you have any rope?” I was still staring up, but Arcoro knew I was asking him.
“You can’t climb up there. Many males have tried, the lucky ones broke their necks.”
“We will turn these into spikes,” I held up one of the metal tubes, “and nail them into the wall, then attach rope to that.”
“Pardon me Vissigroth, but I don’t think we have enough tubes to make as many spikes as will be necessary to get all the way up.” Samurg brought forth his objection.
That gave me pause, he was right.
“Snyg.”
“We’ve tried everything,” Arcoro reiterated.
“Not everything, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here,” I corrected.
He sighed like a parent did with a petulant child. I didn’t call him out on it. My head was occupied with thoughts of Niara and that I needed to return to her.
“How would you even nail the spikes in?” Arcoro asked.
“With my bare hand if I have to,” I replied harsher than I intended to. I added, “A rock should do,” to take the sting out of my words.
Arcoro still looked dubious.
I took the tube to the nearest rock to begin grating at one end, trying to sharpen it. The rock crumbled where I moved the metal back and forward.
“Snygging felmyr.” I cursed. It seemed the felmyr held up to its word, harder than anything.
Arcoro and Samurg wisely kept their distance as they followed me to the rock wall. Smooth as skin. I cursed again. Narrowing my eyes I followed the wall all the way up. It looked as if it was less smooth higher up, but I couldn’t be sure, neither could I be sure it would be rough enough to allow for handholds.
“We could heat it,” Samurg suggested. Interested I turned to him. “My father was a smith. If we can make a fire, hot enough, we can put the felmyr in and try to work it once it’s somewhat melted.”
“How would you hold it? It’ll be hot as the underworld.” Arcoro cautioned. He seemed genuinely intrigued by the idea.
“Layers of cloth, wet clothes,” Samurg said, we just need to switch them out frequently.”
“We still won’t have enough tubes,” I threw his words back at him, thinking.
“We only need to get one of us up there.” My neck was beginning to hurt from keeping it bent to stare at the ceiling. Then what? My mind reminded me. I’ll deal with that once I’m up, I shut myself up. I wasn’t about to sit on my ass, waiting for Sarissa to show herself while my vissy was in danger.
Cursing I began to pull tubes from the tanks, so absorbed in my dark thoughts of Sarissa and fear for Niara, that Samurg had to call my name twice before I heard him.
“Vissigroth!”
Looking up again, my neck creaked and my mouth gaped open. Strong thick ropes unrolled as they were thrown through the many holes peppering the ceiling.
An aqua body appeared, carrying something pale in his arms. My breath caught in my throat and my heart plummeted into my stomach.
“Niara!”
