Time Raiders: The Whisper Read Free Page A

were much like the great hallway, tall, arched and lit by well-placed sconces inlaid with gold.
    Out of range of the roomful of people, Marisol waited for her opportunity to escape, counting the doorways along the hallway, checking for exits, not seeing any along the way. Ifthey were taking her to the chamber of the shaman, would it be in a ceremonial building outside of the palace? Would she have trouble reentering when she escaped the shaman?
    Just when Marisol decided to make a break for it, the guards stopped in front of a heavy wooden door decorated in ornate carvings, most of which depicted an animated sun complete with a face engraved at the center of geometric rays.
    Curiosity stayed Marisol’s flight instinct. Ever since she’d arrived in the ancient Incan capitol, she’d taken in the sights like a tourist. What kind of ceremonial chamber had she been led to, what rituals were performed here? Following her curiosity was a rush of fear that made her stumble. Would she be tied up, drugged, forced to strip?
    The door opened and a young servant girl held it wide for the guards. Her head down, the servant slipped out as the guards escorted Marisol into another chamber, more like an apartment with colorful woven rugs strewn across the floor and ornate woolen tapestries hanging against the stucco walls.
    “What brings you to my chambers?” a voice said from around the corner leading into another room.
    Both warriors dropped to their knees, dragging Marisol with them. “The Great Pachacuti brings tidings and a gift for Inti, the greatest god of the sun.”
    “Leave the gift and go back to your master.”
    The warriors rose to their feet.
    When Marisol attempted to rise as well, they pushed down hard on her shoulders keeping her on her knees.
    “If you wish to live, you will do as the shaman instructs.” The warriors backed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
    As soon as the door closed, Marisol sprang to her feet and ran after them. She reached for the door handle, but a large, strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, stopping her.
    Her training kicked in. She dropped low, dodged to the side and slipped free of the hand. Then she ran in the opposite direction into the next room, fully expecting to see a ceremonial pit or altar.
    Instead, she tripped over a llama skin pallet, strewn with fur and soft woolen blankets, obviously a bed for sleeping…or other nefarious activities of the Incan shaman.
    Marisol refused to be the next offering. A shuttered window on the other side of the bedding offered her the only avenue of escape. She leaped across the skins and blankets and reached for the wooden shutters.
    Arms grabbed her around her waist and lifted her off her feet.
    Marisol kicked and twisted, unable to loosen the ironlike band around her waist. “Let me go.”
    “Silence, woman.”
    “I will not be silent, nor will I be some sacrifice to a god I don’t believe in for a religion so barbaric it escapes comprehension.” She kicked out, her feet connecting with the wall. She pushed off the solid surface, sending her and her captor flying backward.
    He tripped and fell, taking her with him. They landed with a thump on the bedding.
    For a moment, the man beneath her lay still.
    Marisol fought to free herself of his grip, but even if he’d had the wind knocked out of his lungs, he wasn’t letting go.
    With a mighty swing, Marisol landed an elbow in his gut.
    He grunted and swore, then he flung her to the side.
    As soon as he let go, Marisol crab-walked backward, attempting to put space between him and her.
    But her captor wasn’t done. He rolled over on top of her legs, his arms wrapping around her middle, pinning her to the hairy softness of an alpaca skin.
    Marisol’s legs were trapped, so she swung out with her hands, catching his hair in her fists. White-blond hair. The same hair she’d seen on the Norseman.
    “Gunnar? What are you doing here? And don’t feed me any more of your lies. I’ve