He didn’t mean the words as an insult, but they still stung as though he had slapped me. I pressed my lips together, wise enough to dip my head in apology.
They needed time, and I needed them. If they asked for the world, I would give them every corner.
Chapter 25
Andimir woke me right as daylight began to slice apart the eerie shadows that filled the city. I sat up, yawned, stretched my arms, and tried to ignore the wounds along my ribs and arm that twinged with pain.
Jyn had refused to wake me to keep watch. Instead he, Andimir, and Camion swapped out spots, splitting the rest of the night. Jyn’s dark eyes batted sleepily when I passed him a ration of breakfast, and I frowned. I couldn’t remember the last time he had managed real, restful sleep.
While I ate my own apple, I scanned our surroundings. Two massive, straight-backed stone Dwarves guarded the entrance to the city, staring down their noses at the path before them. One held a sword and shield in a loosely threatening stature, while the other had a stack of books perched in his arms.
“Equalizing knowledge with power,” Meryn said, nudging my arm. She had laid her bed roll out beside mine the night before, and now she pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning into my shoulder. Accepting the apology I hadn’t quite given her, because she knew. The thought made my eyes well up. “The Dwarves are known for their craftsmanship, but not so much their incredible collections of history.”
“Wonder how much is left,” I murmured. I shouldered my pack and climbed to my feet. My leathers were slick with dew and the light morning breeze sent an ominous chill shuddering up my spine. I studied the others; they appeared unphased.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Jyn said, bumping my other shoulder. “Come on.”
Those Dwarven figures loomed overhead as we moved closer—at least four times my own height. Once, a wall had circled the city, as tall as the stone guardians, but now it was little more than piles of corroding rubbish littering the ground.
“This place has been abandoned for a long, long time,” Andimir said. Fetian perched on his shoulder surveying the landscape, uneasy in the quiet morning.
I nodded in agreement, but Meryn was the one to speak. “Possibly since the last time the Titans walked free.”
“You think they might have done this?” Jyn raised an eyebrow, skepticism thick in his voice.
“It’s possible. The Dwarves are rarely seen in the mainland now.” Meryn peered around at the ruin. “I dare say they didn’t do this to themselves.”
“They put so much time and effort into building this beautiful city, and then . . .” I took a breath, considering, before I went on. “They were chased out?”
“Possibly. Or they had something the Titans wanted.” She shot each of the men a glance in turn. “We should explore. I would say there’s a solid chance this city holds secrets to help us against the Titans. Assuming we fail and they’re all released again, that is.”
“Which seems likely, with one already loose,” Andimir huffed.
“I think we have a solid head start on this one,” Meryn said with a shrug. “If we can find the Tellus Scepter fast enough, we would at least have control over Cybele. Her bloodlust, and power over earthen elements, could come in handy. Plus, I would rather not have them used against us.”
Our eyes rose in unison to the city laid before us. I sucked in another breath, assaulted by the scent of mildew and sickly-sweet flowers. We passed between the two Dwarves that stared down at us, our boots crunching on the stone fragments peppering the grass.
Beyond the toppling walls and the massive Dwarves, my mouth dropped open. The city was more impressive than I had believed. Even after decades of abandonment, the level of care put into designing this city was evident, from the tiny silver and gold detailing to the carved, arched windows on some of the larger buildings.
From this side, the smaller, crumbled structures along the wall seemed to be dwellings—stacked homes covered in vines, whole sections caved into nothing. Decaying bits of furniture peeked from the rubble, hints at the life that had once dwelt inside. Many of the larger buildings, the ones outside the central square, were little more than piles of stone. The sound of water reached our ears from off to the left, but from here the area showed little more than trees and debris.
To our immediate left, the overgrown remains of a courtyard sprawled across much of the open space, in front of one of the more lavishly designed buildings. A crumbling fountain sat in the center, edged by collapsed benches that almost reminded me of home. Home, and stolen moments in the gardens . . .
Blue and green eyes met mine, a shared thought. I desperately wanted to fix the rift between us, to apologize in a way that might make him speak to me. Instead I dropped my eyes to the ground and blinked away the tears.
“You okay?” Meryn asked.
She searched my face, then noticed as my eyes lifted to Camion again. He snuck a peek from his peripheral before abruptly looking away. “I feel terrible,” I admitted.
“I know.” Meryn sighed. “I don’t agree with your methods, but I can’t deny the payoff. You got us through, and the link you’ve had to the Scepters is much stronger.”
“True,” I said softly. Jyn and Camion stopped to hack at some of the overgrown plants, to clear our path. Lowering my voice farther, I added, “I should have considered the cost. What if the price was too high?”
She waved away my concern. “I doubt you’ll pay the price you’re currently concerned about. Though, I’d think you should be more worried about the fact that you killed yourself so easily. What were you thinking?”
“I told you what I was thinking.”
“Still. You made it seem . . . easy.”
“The answer was clear,” I muttered. “Or, it seemed clear to me. But you’re all right. The decision wasn’t only mine. Even if I can’t bring to the table what any one of you can.”
Meryn shook her head sadly, glancing up at the three men who spoke in hushed tones ahead of us. “It’s not about what you can do that no one else can. It’s about the way you see the world. You’re not different because of what you can or can’t do. You’re different because of the way you experience things. The way you feel them. Every perspective is valuable, even the wrong ones.”
“I don’t think that’s enough,” I admitted. “You know I don’t want to die, right? Not really. But . . . saving your lives doesn’t feel like a sacrifice.”
“I know.”
“Does he?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Meryn lifted a shoulder, smoothing a wrinkle along her skirt. “Grief is a strong enough emotion, you know this. Add on the shock and relief of watching you come back to life . . . Camion needs to mend.” She jerked her head toward his back. “I’ve seen, you know. The marks. Not the full extent, only hints. While I could likely ease the appearance of the scars, I can’t heal everything.” Her finger tapped the side of her head. “Consider that his anger might not be about you, or toward you, but instead the result of fresh pain in a healing mind. Maybe, after whatever he’s been through, watching you die was simply too much.”
Too much . . .
The words hit me like a blow. I hadn’t thought to ask if he was okay while chattering out my apologies. Talking instead of listening. Patching instead of repairing.
Would the question have helped? Probably, no. Still . . .
Meryn was right, and I felt small.
We followed our companions past the courtyard. Rotting wood sat in shapes reminiscent of vendor stalls. I could almost imagine them all together, draped with the brightly colored fabrics that were now little more than lingering scraps. And filled with fresh food, instead of compost speckled with mushrooms and sprigs of green weeds.
Rabbits scattered across our path, bolting away into the rubble and underbrush. Birds chirped and insects chittered. Fetian’s head tilted at the latter—seeking lunch, perhaps. A fly zipped in front of Jyn’s face. He scowled.
“Well at least we know s
ome life remains in here,” he commented, scanning the area. “We need to be watchful.”
His hands fell to the sheath across his lower back and to the daggers that lay in wait inside. Andimir eyed him for a moment, tugging at one of the beads in his hair. Fetian flapped his wings, impatient.
“I still can’t believe I’ve never seen this place. I’ve been in the marsh more times than I can count.” Andimir stilled, brows pulling together. “I wonder if any of those dead leads were meant to bring me here.”
“I would assume the city functioned in a normal capacity until the cloak was created,” Meryn said. “I’m starting to think the Dwarves might have been the ones to hide it, to conceal anything they might have missed when they fled. But I’ve never known a Dwarf with that kind of magical prowess.”
“You’ve known many Dwarves?” Jyn smirked.
“I’ve read about them!”
“Doesn’t count.” The smile on Jyn’s face grew.
“Might as well.” She scowled playfully. I appreciated the normalcy. For a moment, the burden on my shoulders eased.
Large, barren gardens spanned our right side, stretching parallel to the courtyard. Flat, uneven stones made a jagged path between them. Animal pens sat rusted and unattended, my stomach dropping at the thought of any animals that might have been left behind.
Jyn caught my expression and shook his head. “The gates are open, Princess, and I don’t see any remains.”
“Thanks,” I murmured.
Past the enclosures the buildings were larger, more open, and toward the far reaches of the city, a massive structure sat slightly elevated above the rest. My attention snagged on this when Camion hurried his pace, jumping over one of the enclosure walls with ease. He moved for an open pavilion on the left side. Jyn seemed to share my curiosity. His eyebrows pulled together and we turned to follow.
I was less surprised after I realized what drew his attention. The wide pavilion was equipped with a forge, the abandoned tools and dull ingots littering the floor. At the back sat the collapsed remains of an armory. Weapons still glinted beneath the rubble. Camion’s face was bright with excitement as he brushed his fingertips over the uneven surface of the anvil.
“I can use this,” Camion said eagerly, turning to the rest of us. “Most of these tools are only a bit rusted. Completely usable. I might be able to tweak our blades, sharpen them again.”
“Won’t lighting the forge draw . . . attention?” Andimir asked, glancing around.
“Potentially. Which is why I won’t be lighting the forge.”
“I don’t think there’s much you can do for the daggers Audri gave me,” Jyn argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
Camion grinned. My heart fluttered at the sight. “Do you care to make a wager on that?” He shot a glance at the hilt that peeked from behind Jyn’s side. “We never sharpened them after that Nyoka attack. Plus, the blacksmith Audri hired is talented but that edge is an embarrassment to the fluidity of those cutouts.”
Jyn shifted his stance a bit, rebalancing his weight. “Sure. What’s your bet, and how will you test this?”
“Hmm. Loser owes the winner a favor.” I appreciated the glint in Camion’s eyes. Jyn didn’t seem to, but his pride won out.
“Fine. And testing?”
Camion gestured to one of the wooden beams holding the structure up. “Bury your daggers. Strike as hard as you can. Then pry them free. You can do the same when I’m finished with them—and I’ll even repair anything you do while testing them.”
Meryn stared at Jyn like he was a fool, but Andimir had clear doubts about Camion’s abilities. Pride welled in my chest. If Camion said he could improve those blades, I believed him. He caught the expression on my face and paused, offering that half smile.
For a shining moment, with the warmth in that one little look, I didn’t doubt that he would stay with me. Then he glanced away and the tiny ember dulled to a hopeful glow.
“If you’re going to tweak our weapons, I don’t want all of us unarmed while we wait,” Jyn said. “Princess, give me your sword. I’ll leave my gear first.”
I unsheathed the blade as he tugged weapons from various places to pile at Camion’s feet. The latter raised an eyebrow as the Elf pulled one piece free and then another. And another. Camion shook his head.
“I’m glad I’m doing yours first. You’ll be able to arm the others if needed.” He scanned the ruins. “It’s been so quiet, though. Almost makes me uneasy.”
“Too quiet,” Jyn agreed. “This city is almost peaceful. I’m waiting for the catalyst. Or the Shadows to track us in.”
A chill raced up my spine when I looked toward the Dwarven statues guarding the entrance. I rubbed at the goosebumps that prickled up my arms.
“Basic maintenance shouldn’t take me too long.” Camion gestured toward one wall. “See the stamping on those ingots? Some of them are carbon steel. In Thrais, I only ever managed to get my hands on them if we received an import from the Dwarves. Even then, they’re unfathomably expensive. I might not dare light the forge now, but if we ever come back . . . I could make us stronger blades with more time and resources. The sword Audri gave Tyli has notches I might not be able to smooth out.”
My heart skittered at the use of the nickname and butterflies burst into flight through my stomach. The corner of Jyn’s lips twitched when he shot me a pointed glare. A fan to that tiny, hopeful flame.
“I can help, if you like,” Andimir volunteered. Fetian cawed, stamping a foot on his shoulder. I raised a brow.
“Sounds fine,” Camion agreed, half listening as he began to tinker with the forge, clearing weeds and prepping space. “With your help this shouldn’t take nearly as long. A couple hours, maybe.”
Jyn nodded. “While you two work, the three of us can scout these smaller buildings. Search for clues. We’ll stay close, in case you come into trouble.”
Camion tossed a whetstone to Andimir, followed by one of the tiny bottles of lavender oil he carried. “We’ll get to work.”
Chapter 26
Stone crumbled beneath the soles of my boots. I lagged behind Meryn and Jyn, who had taken to pawing through the abandoned domiciles with interest. Unfortunately, rotting beds and cracked dressers did little to hold my interest, unlike the other two who pawed eagerly through the molded remains.
“Shouldn’t we have gone there first?” I pointed to the far end of the city, at a building reminiscent of the Temple of Nahara. A tower rose to the left side, but the entire front was caved in. The collapse didn’t leave much promise for whatever lay inside. Vines climbed the sides of both buildings, small black flowers dotting them with abundance. Meryn kept eyeing them but, so far, she had resisted running off.
“The large, ominous temple-building?” Meryn shook her head. “We’d be better off waiting for Camion and Andimir. Besides, most of Jyn’s weapons are with them. If we run into trouble . . .”
“Logical,” I admitted. “What are you searching for?” I picked at a sheet of stiff fabric that clung to a black-spotted mattress. The musk and mildew scent hit my nose and I cringed, releasing my grip.
“Anything,” Meryn said. “We don’t know what the Dwarves left behind. There could be valuable artifacts.”
“Or we could die.” I peered through a hole in the floor. On cue, a shower of debris tumbled through.
“Oh, you’re against that now?” I narrowed my eyes in Jyn’s direction, but he grinned. “No, I’m not going to let go of this easily.”
A retort rose on my tongue, but I bit it back. A little sarcasm and a little berating were fair prices to pay. He smirked, taunting me to speak. I didn’t, and he went back to the armoire he was picking apart with a smug expression on his face.
“Have you found anything?”
They both shook their heads, not bothering to look up. With a sigh, I started shuffling through drawers again. Most were empty. Several were littered with yellowed parchment. One held pages stained with black splotches, spille
d from a shattered ink well. Nothing held value though, even in sentiment.
We exhausted the smaller buildings with no luck and Jyn paused to scan the city. The quiet insect sounds faded off along with the daylight, animals crawling into hiding for a night’s slumber.
Jyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Remember how I mentioned things going south?” he asked softly. “I don’t know what’s here, exactly, but sound doesn’t simply shut off because the sun goes down. Keep your guard up.”
Meryn bit at her fingernails as she considered a big, ornate building across from us. Faint sounds echoed from the forge. Finally, she said, “Let’s go explore that building. While we can.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Jyn said. He knelt beside the ground, head tilted to listen. “There’s tension here.” His eyes drew up to the sky. “Whatever they’re waiting for, we don’t want to be in the city after dark. Something comes with the moon.”
“That’s cryptic,” Meryn said. “How would you know?”
Jyn shrugged. “I don’t, for sure. I have a feeling.”
“Helpful.” She frowned. “Let’s at least see what the building is. We can get Camion and Andimir after, then really explore tomorrow.”
He agreed, grudgingly. I followed them across the broken courtyard, stepping over the tiny, sparkling bits of ceramic that had once been pressed into the fountain. Another victim to the passage of time now shattered on the earth.
The building in front of us was several stories tall though, from the collapsed upper corner on the left side, I would guess the highest levels were destroyed. If not from the fall, from the elements that let more ivy, flowers, and weeds grow within. Gold engravings lined the walls, intricate patterns that spread from the ground in designs that meant nothing to me.
On either side of the door sat two pillars, rising alongside a short staircase. The steps themselves were simple, cracked white stone. Atop the pillars, however, were two massive figures. Statues, carved from black marble, veined with gold that shimmered against the slowly setting sun. Their forms were almost human, feminine, their arms bearing wings spread wide—in welcome or warning, I didn’t know. Long tails wrapped around their legs, and their beautiful humanoid faces were turned downward, draped by hair carved with such intricate detail that, had I not known they were stone, I might have thought was soft to the touch.
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