A third clap of thunder shook the stones, as Simon threw himself from the monk’s lunge. He stumbled, hitting the stone wall, backing up, slamming into another wall. Dark closed in around him. The passage! He stumbled forth, deeper in, far from the men with weapons. He heard the squeal of the child, a deep shout, men’s voices raised in anger. Another man shouting, “Amy!”
He turned, running in the dark, deeper and deeper into the tunnel, feeling his way. He stumbled as his feet hit the sharp edge of stairs. He slowed, feeling his way, moving with what haste he could. The cold grew, as he descended the stairs. The voices faded behind him as the dark pressed in. The dankness grew, a damp smell in his nose. He came to a twist in the passage. His heart pounded in the utter pitch black pressing in on his eyes, the cold chilling his bones now, and mustiness filling his nose.
This was Glenmirril of Shawn’s time. It was Glenmirril of Niall’s time. Anyone might be following him. He pushed himself to move faster in the blinding dark, his hands on damp stone walls. He heard a voice behind him, muffled, agitated, and forced himself to go faster, feeling with his leather boots.
~~ The Battle is O'er, Book Five of The Blue Bells Chronicles
Coming December 2017