Donal nodded. “Yes. I would never betray him.”
“My mother chose her love of money over any love she had for her child… twice.”
“Twice?”
“My sister…” Oona flicked at a blade of grass by her toes. “I had to get her away from that wretched woman. But what I mean is, if your parents love the appearance of being ‘normal’ more than their son, I say you should be rid of them. But, I also admit that I had only just met my mother before deciding to allow her to remain apart from my life. Yours raised you, so the decision cannot be as easy.”
He nodded.
“If they try to blame Lucen for their views, tell me and I will explain the truth to them.”
Donal gawked at her. “Highness… you can’t be serious. You would travel all the way to River’s Rest for me? One soldier who”—he cringed—“you likely overheard saying unkind things about you?”
“Now that I understand why you said those things, yes. I will not allow anyone to use Lucen’s name to cause others pain.”
“Oona?” asked Kitlyn. “Where did you go?”
She twisted back to peer over her shoulder and waved, making a tiny blue light at her fingertips.
Kitlyn jogged over. “You scared me. What are you doing out here?”
“Just talking.” Oona smiled at Donal. “Listen to your heart.”
“That light.” He shifted his stare from her hand to her eyes. “I begged of Lucen a sign, and… perhaps you are that sign.”
“I feel I’ve missed something significant.” Kitlyn’s eyebrows flattened.
“Highness.” Donal sprang to his feet and bowed at her. “I should return to my duties watching over the camp.”
“Of course.” Oona stood and took Kitlyn’s hand. “Let us return to bed.”
Donal trotted off across the field.
“What were you doing so far off? You gave me a fright.”
“Lucen needed me here.” She leaned against Kitlyn and explained the conversation she had with the young soldier as they walked back to their sleeping mats.
24
Mercy In Darkness
Kitlyn
Around noon the following day, Kitlyn brought her horse to a stop near two tall obelisks of pale grey stone wrapped in vines and covered in cracks that stood on either side of a long-untended road descending into an artificial canyon. Some ancient workforce had carved a ramp downward into the earth over about half a mile. Boulders of various sizes, abandoned wagons long since collapsed into loose boards and metal slats, weeds, and even animal bones littered the once-highway.
The Lucernian side of Underholm suited the kingdom’s staid philosophy, a straight passage cut into rock without frill or fanfare, quite unlike the beautiful moonstone path on the Evermoor side winding lazily down to the giant goblin-faced doors. While the grass strewn with glowing gemlike stones reminded Kitlyn of a scene from a storybook, the bleakness in front of her made it quite apparent no one had traveled this road for centuries.
She vaguely recalled Kethaba saying something about the Na’vir vanishing about a thousand years ago, though Oona had been unable to find any official records about trade with them. Such trade must have occurred at some point given such a grand opening, so it bothered her that no information whatsoever remained anywhere. The royal library only even mentioned Na’vir in four books, all as a minor addendum to other information.
There ought to have been at least one book solely dedicated to an entire civilization. The library has six on the Anthari and no one has seen an elf on this continent since before the Na’vir died out.
Kitlyn narrowed her eyes as a sudden sickening suspicion swirled in her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” asked Oona. “That look on your face… You’re either about to deposit your breakfast on the grass or order someone executed.”
She relaxed her glower. “I was merely thinking about how the library has so little information on the Na’vir. It’s almost as if someone deliberately tried to erase them from history.”
“I did find a few books, but they didn’t have much information.”
“Yes, but all of them only mentioned the Na’vir in passing. Someone trying to remove any reference to them and being hasty about it could have missed those.”
“Oh.” Oona blinked, glanced at the distant huge doors, then looked back at her. “Why would anyone want to alter history?”
“To conceal a crime or control people’s opinions,” said Kitlyn.
“That sounds a little farfetched, no? What sort of crime could be so bad that a former king or queen allowed it to be concealed?”
Kitlyn patted Apples’ mane. “A war perhaps. Maybe Lucernia wiped out the Na’vir.”
“Surely not. There would have been some record of such an atrocity, even in folklore.”
“From a thousand years ago?” Kitlyn blinked. “We don’t even have records of who the king was that far back.”
“Well, if a war had occurred, they would speak of it as a victory, would they not?” Oona shot an uneasy glance down the road.
“Only if the war had been justified… though you may be right. It would have been easy to claim they cavorted with demons as my father did with Evermoor.”
“The curse,” whispered Oona. “Could this be it? An unjust war? The dying breath of a Na’vir seeking revenge?”
“My family has not been in power for a thousand years… but the curse may not be on us so much as the throne.” Kitlyn fidgeted. She hadn’t given much weight to Oona’s worry about curses, despite the rather compelling streak of bad luck experienced by her most recent ancestors. That the only one to survive to old age had abdicated the throne to live a reclusive life as a noble only served to make the idea of a curse seem more likely. Again, she rubbed the spot where her neck had been sliced open. I am fortunate Tenebrea and Orien favor us.
“What orders, highness?” asked Lieutenant Hain, riding up on Kitlyn’s left.
She glanced over at the woman, almost thirty, blonde like Oona but nowhere near as ‘delicate-pretty.’ Hain had a strong jaw and an athletic frame from her spending the last twelve or so years fighting in the war. A tiny scar marked her left eyebrow.
“I am still considering.” Kitlyn clutched the reins tighter, gripped by a sudden bit of nervousness. Perhaps I should beckon Omun. She pondered, but dropped the idea. No… we’re not going in to exterminate the Nimse. And I cannot simply bother the stone ancient with every little problem I have. “What weighs upon my mind at the moment is marching thirty men into the dark. Those creatures can swim over the walls.”
“What is it you hope to accomplish in there?” Lieutenant Hain eyed the road ahead. “Those creatures do not seem given to receive a diplomatic visit. Our force is too small to accomplish much, despite how simple they are to slay.”
“Simple out in the open. In the dark with three running at you and six more falling from above, it is not so simple,” said Kitlyn in a toneless voice.
Oona swallowed hard. “You went in there alone last time?”
“Yes.” Kitlyn thought back to that boy Kem who’d been too frightened to go inside. Perhaps he had known about the Nimse, though more likely, he succumbed to folklore about ghosts. And well, he had admitted to being a bit of a coward. “I had not known the Nimse existed then.” She glanced at Oona. “Though even if I had, I would have chanced it.”
Oona teared up and took her hand. “We both flirted with death. Damn that war. But…” She took a deep breath and chased away her melancholy. “We now know they shy away from Lucen’s light. I am certain I can keep them back from us, though I do not expect all of these soldiers will fit close enough to be protected.”
“Something has caused the Nimse to dig to the surface and attack both Lucernia and Evermoor. I am inclined to think that their aggression may be simply their nature and they attack only because a way has opened for them to escape Underholm. Omun left a path of destruction in his wake, though I do not think he meant to—he is simp
ly large. I intend to search for the cause of their agitation, or if it is only exposed dirt, I will seal it with stone and contain the threat.”
“That feels right.” Oona squeezed her hand. “This aggression is something they cannot help, not the act of a hostile civilization trying to make war.”
“No more than a pack of wolves could declare war on a human village,” said Lieutenant Hain. “How many soldiers are to accompany you inside?”
Kitlyn thought of the dead man, Lem, and the tall man, Darrow, who’d been wounded. Saying ‘five’ again, a reasonable number Oona could most likely shield felt too much like selecting soldiers for slaughter. All thirty plus Lieutenant Hain would be too much for the light to protect. Those too far ahead or behind would be picked off. Ten might test the limits of the Nimse’s distaste for light.
“I went in there last time with no idea what awaited me and much less understanding of my magic. I cannot ask your men to risk their lives when I am capable of protecting myself.”
Lieutenant Hain opened and closed her mouth.
“Last time, you needed Omun to get out of there alive,” said Oona a little louder than a whisper.
Kitlyn winced. “True, though I may have done something to anger the Nimse. They have these sacred glowing stones. I thought them a handy light source, so I took some. With your light, we won’t need to disturb the shrines.”
“You assume the creatures will not remember you,” said Lieutenant Hain.
“They might.” Oona eyed the ramp. “I am certain they are smarter than they appear.”
“Very well then.” Kitlyn nudged Apples into motion, guiding him around the boulders, six-foot weeds, and wrecked wagons.
Smooth stone walls rose on both sides, marred with cracks and tufts of green. Once the top edges reached more than a story above their heads, the formerly-plain rock bore crumbling bas-reliefs of scholarly people in robes. A handful depicted a four-armed man wearing a combination skirt-and-pants garment, plus sandals. His bare chest revealed defined but sinewy musculature. He raised his upper pair of arms over his head, holding a glowing crystal and a scroll. The second pair, he extended out to either side, one hand gripping a book, the other a chisel. An expression as if staring off into the distance, deep in thought as well as the symbolic nature of his pose made Kitlyn think the image depicted a deity rather than an individual.
“That’s strange.” Oona guided Cloud around the smashed remains of a wagon behind her. “The books I read couldn’t seem to decide if the Na’vir had four or two arms. Most of the images in these carvings look like humans, except that one. And all the ones with four arms appear to be the same man. Could that be one of their gods?”
“I was thinking that, too.”
Kitlyn stopped her horse about ten feet from the massive, but plain, stone doors, and managed a shaky dismount that only caused a handful of soldiers to chuckle under their breath. Oona again descended from Cloud’s saddle as if lofted by invisible wings.
“Are you absolutely certain you do not wish any soldiers to accompany you?” asked Lieutenant Hain. “It seems quite reckless.”
“I…” Kitlyn glanced back at the men and women assembled behind her. While she didn’t want to be responsible for more soldiers dying, it didn’t seem possible to be queen and avoid that. Almost any order she issued had the chance of resulting in her military being injured. She took some comfort in that she would be in as much danger as any of them, not asking them to risk their lives while safe back in Castle Cimril. How many men and women had her father sent off to their deaths while perched on soft cushions eating luxurious meals? “All right. Please ask for five volunteers. Any more than that and the light may not be enough to shield them.”
Lieutenant Hain repeated the call for five volunteers. Donal stepped forward first, as did about half of the rest. The young man hurried over to Kitlyn and Oona. The lieutenant picked four others: a large-framed man with dark brown hair, and three women all of whom appeared quite early in their twenties. Kitlyn didn’t recognize any of them, but Lucernia had thousands of soldiers.
“Thank you for your bravery,” said Kitlyn. “May I have the pleasure of your names?”
The tall man bowed. “I am Lonn, highness.”
“Marta,” said a woman with auburn hair, the youngest of the lot who might not have even been twenty yet.
A thin woman with her black hair cut short bowed to them. “Gwynn.”
The last, a statuesque blonde, introduced herself as Janna.
Kitlyn thought the woman resembled the forgemaidens from Ondar, powerful warriors who aided their Steelfather, mostly by crafting weapons and helping the souls of those who fell in battle find their way to the Great Hall.
“You know what this means,” said Oona in a somewhat whimsical tone.
“What?” asked Kitlyn.
She eyed Donal. “Last night, he spoke of his love for another that he has been thus far unable to be with. He will likely perish in Underholm.”
Donal gawked. “A-are you speaking in jest or as an agent of Lucen?”
“Sometimes fate dislikes being teased.” Kitlyn patted Donal on the shoulder, pained at the idea he may die under such circumstances. “I will not turn away your bravery, but if you wish to make right with your love before volunteering for dangerous expeditions, I would not hold that against you.”
“Thank you for your kind words, but I will not waver.” Donal stood tall, despite being nearly a head shorter than Lonn. “Lucen heard my call and answered. It is the least I can do.”
“All right,” said Oona. “But please be careful.”
Kitlyn faced the entrance of Underholm and stepped out of her boots onto a dusting of grit that covered the broken stone path. She sent her magic into the earth, calling out to the great stone doors. Brilliant green energy swirled around her body. Seconds later, a matching glow shone from around the seams. The earth shook with a heavy thud that spooked Cloud. Apples’ ears twitched, though he didn’t flinch.
With a grating scrape, the forty-foot tall goblin-faced door on the right eased outward. Kitlyn pulled at it until she’d created enough of a gap to fit past. A hollow windy howl yawned from the impenetrable darkness inside, as though even the light of day feared to venture past the threshold. Kitlyn released her concentration on magic, and the green energy sank back into the ground.
After stuffing her boots into the saddlebag, she walked up to the opening and peered inside. Yeah, that’s as dark as I remembered it. Her ability to ‘see’ via the stone wouldn’t help anyone else.
Oona’s small blue light orb floated over Kitlyn’s head and entered the tunnel, revealing a massive corridor forty feet square littered with stone chunks, the occasional rusting weapon, and more broken wagon parts.
“This is quite a bit nicer when I can see.” Kitlyn stepped into the vast tunnel, looking around. Thick pale grey dust coated the floor, making it feel as though she walked on a mattress.
Roots had broken through the ceiling in places, the likely cause of stone fragments on the ground, though none of the openings appeared large enough for a Nimse to squeeze into. The soldiers entered behind Oona.
“Wow…” Gwynn barely had to turn sideways to fit past the narrow gap in the doors. “How far beneath the earth does this go?”
“Far enough to cross under the Churning Deep into Evermoor,” said Kitlyn. “Except, I remember there being a cave-in. I should be able to get us past it except for one problem.”
“What? A cave-in?” Oona gazed up at her glowing blue orb.
“I tried to return to Cimril to request help, but the ceiling had collapsed. Nimse tunnels riddled the dirt like a nest. Let us hope your light keeps them at bay.” She looked at the soldiers. “Of course, if you need to defend yourselves, by all means, do so. However, do not kill any Nimse that isn’t presenting an immediate threat.”
The soldiers nodded.
Kitlyn led the way down the passage, stepping around rocks and debris. Oona’s light sent l
ong shadows creeping over the walls from square columns every hundred feet or so. Every breath carried the flavor of wet stone and the thickness of cold humidity. Near the base of the dark grey walls, a band of gold pattern, simple design of woven lines about two feet tall, ran the apparent length of the tunnel.
“This place is massive.” Janna let out a soft whistle of awe.
“Never imagined anything like it.” Lonn paused to trace his fingers over the gold decoration.
Donal stared at the ceiling. “Hard to believe an entire nation existed underground… or built a tunnel so massive.”
“All these wagons.” Oona gestured at a pile of smashed wood with a bit of recognizable wheel sticking out of it. “This passage looks like a highway. It must have once carried a robust trade.”
Kitlyn spotted a pale pink glow emanating from a small cubby ahead on the left. An image of the first Nimse she’d ever seen, leaping at her from the dark, brought her right back to her last time down here.
“Don’t touch those stones.” Kitlyn pointed at the glow. “Better we don’t go anywhere near that shelf.”
Murmurs of agreement came from the soldiers.
They walked a while more in silence.
Kitlyn’s nervousness increased. Eventually, the silence grew intolerable. “So, this is what I was doing while you were Ralen’s guest.”
Oona cringed. “I’m not sure which of us had it worse. I might’ve preferred a pack of Nimse to those wretches who tried to slice my dress off.”
“You may rethink that if we are unfortunate enough to see a swarm like what chased me into Omun’s chamber. It was as though the walls came alive with teeth.”
“I think I would prefer a quick death to what those men wished to do to me.”
Kitlyn shivered. “I’m not so sure the Nimse would’ve offered a quick death… and I think if I were given the choice of those two fates, I would prefer to remain alive.”
The Cursed Crown Page 23