The Lost

by K. A Knight

  “That was so much fun!” I grin at them.

  “You are fucking crazy, Pip,” Evan exclaims and I nod.

  “Best people are.” I wink and turn to see our guide already moving on.

  He grabs on to the mountain and leaps across a small opening to another ledge. “Dude, this is like an assault course.” I giggle before I throw myself across the chasm and land right against his back.

  He turns and peers down at me before lifting me and placing me to the side. “Whoops, sorry about that,” I chirp.

  “Goddamn it,” I hear Evan mumble, before he lands next to me, this time on his feet. Jago and Archel make it across and we look at the big guy who turns and starts moving again.

  The ledge abruptly ends, but he turns to the left and disappears, so I follow after him blindly. I have to blink against the dark before I realise the path is now leading us…into the mountain.

  He speeds up then, almost jogging, and we have to run to keep up as we cut a path through the mountains, until suddenly, he stops. I almost run into his back again, but manage not to this time, stepping up to his side instead, almost panting, and my eyes widen in shock and awe.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter. “They don’t live on the mountains…they live in them.”

  Nineteen

  Clay

  Spread out below us is isn’t just a village or a settlement…it’s a whole civilization. Lights hang from the mountain’s ceiling, the bulbs flaring, and down beneath I see them carry on. Houses are built into the side of the mountain in different layers until they reach the floor. Big and small, some brick, some wood, and some I don’t even know what they are made out of. The ones hanging in the air have walkways between them, wooden slats with ropes on either side. It’s beautiful and not what I expected.

  The man gives us a moment to gape before following the winding path, which leads downwards through the center of everything. I spot women, children, and more men than I could have ever imagined. They look hardened, like fighters, every single one, and oh so different than I envisioned. All with long hair, braids almost, and some wear the same markings as our tour guide, while others don’t. But they all look happy.

  This place is incredible, no wonder they protect it so fiercely, it’s a slice of heaven cut into a mountain.

  People stop and stare when they see us, obviously not used to visitors. Some of the buildings have handmade signs, crudely painted. I see the universal sign for doctor on one, a blacksmith on another, and what looks like a bar and then a shop. The town seems to be divided into sections, the base units on the floor are shops, while the surrounding buildings are houses. We move through it all to the other side, where a large, slightly elevated building stands, actually built into the brick, some of it stone, some wood, with an opened doorway.

  He heads there, ignoring the men stationed out front, and the rock and sand beneath our feet changes to stone as we step inside. Tables run down both sides, filled with benches and chairs. But nobody is sitting there at the moment. The ceilings are high, and open into the top of the mountain to see everything. At the very end is a raised dais with...a fucking throne. A serious-looking throne made out of what looks like skulls and blades. It’s cool as hell, but also terrifying, as is the man seated in it, watching our approach.

  Our guide stops before him and slams his arm into his chest before bowing his head and moving to stand beside the man on the throne, watching me again. Okay then, I’m guessing this is their leader?

  “Thank you,” I tell him, and incline my head before turning to face the man in charge.

  “What are you doing in my mountain?” he calls, his voice rumbling like the rocks. He’s a big man, thick. He has long grey hair, curling around his lap in a braid, shaved on the sides too. His thin lips are currently pursed at us, and one eye is missing, but he doesn’t try to hide that, the other is a cornflower blue. His face is mottled and pale, strange, but it makes sense since they live down here. He has more grey scars across his face and chest, and the paint across him is red, not black like our guide’s. He is bare chested in just black trousers.

  “We came to speak to you of war, of a fight facing everyone in the North,” I start, and his eyes narrow as he leans forward.

  “Your north, we are not part of you, we may live side by side in peace, but that only affords you so much, do not push it,” he snaps, and I nod in understanding.

  “Of course, we are lucky and grateful that you let us live to see your magnificent home,” I offer sweetly, and he grins, sitting back.

  “I like you,” he mutters. “You speak of war…a fight?”

  “Yes, it is facing us all, that is why we are here. To beg for your help,” I implore, but a gong sounds, ripping through the room, and shocking me so much I gasp and turn my head.

  “Take them to your house for the time being, I will discuss this with them later, for now it is the time for the tested to return,” he orders, and rises like a sleeping mammal, all grace as he steps down. Without another word for us, he passes by and leaves us with our tour guide.

  “That went well,” I mutter.

  The tested? What does that mean? Everything is so strange here. At least they didn’t kill us yet, though, that’s good…I think. Unless they are just playing with us, but something tells me I have intrigued him. That means he will keep us alive for now.

  The tour guide turns to us and then starts walking again, straight past us. Okay then, back to playing follow the giant, silent mountain man. I wonder if he is unable to talk or chooses not to. For some reason, I have a strange need to hear his voice, to see if it matches the man himself.

  We follow him from what I am going to dub the throne hall, and to the right of the building where a walkway is cut into the mountain side, a slim, narrow path that leads upwards. He heads that way, so we stomp after him. The higher we get, the worse my breathing becomes, like there isn’t enough air. I’m guessing it’s from the altitude.

  We pass huts and small buildings and yet we go higher and higher, across walkways and bridges until we are in the very highest point of the mountain where a large building rests between walkways. No wonder he wanted us here, we would die trying to escape or get lost. He heads straight into the building, so we follow—is this his house?

  I stop at the open doorway and watch as he strides inside, grabbing a long brown thing from a chair near the door.

  He throws on what looks like a fur coat—still bare chested—which is a brown and white colour, and hangs to mid-thigh, moving like a cape as he walks. The action is strangely sensual, and I can’t draw my eyes away from him, there’s something so captivating about this silent man.

  Continuing to ignore us, he moves deeper, so I step inside. The house is open planned. There is a kitchen and dining room to the left, and a living room of sorts to the right. In the back corner is an old steel bathtub with a bucket beside it, and taking up most of the back is a huge bed covered in more furs, closer to the floor than a real bed frame.

  The whole place is lit by candles and mismatched lights, the floor a mix of carpets and wood. It’s nice in a, erm…post-apoplectic way…nice for a cave, that’s for sure.

  “So this is your place?” I call, and he just carries on walking. “It’s nice, like the…erm, fur everywhere, real Viking type getup you got going. Did you get a discount?” I snap my mouth shut when Archel laughs behind me and the big guy turns to look at me, eyes narrowed. He must understand English, because he brought us here to their leader, unless he is always ordered to do so and didn’t understand a word I said.

  “You speak English?” I ask, and when he just stares, I carry on like usual. “No speak English?”

  He narrows his eyes further and I fidget nervously. “Just…like, where do we stand on the English?”

  Instead of answering me, he reaches behind his head. I hear my men draw their weapons, but he pays them no attention as he unlocks his mask and pulls it away from his face, tossing it on his bed and revealing the bottom hal
f of his features. I don’t know why I expected him not to have a mouth or something, but he does…a very fine-looking mouth as far as mouths go. A solid nine out of ten.

  I was right about the beard. It’s the same dirty blond as his hair and covers halfway down his neck and cheeks. His lips are very plump, especially for a man, and a pink colour, tipping up at the sides. He has a strong, square jaw and high-arched cheekbones.

  “Piper, it’s rude to stare,” Archel admonished me, but I can hear the playfulness in his tone.

  The guy smiles slightly and I point. “Ha! Yes to the English then!”

  That makes him frown and turn away again. Damn it, I thought I was getting somewhere. His braid moves as he does, and I realise it goes all the way down his back to his bum, not stopping at his neck like I thought.

  Looking around, I decide to get comfortable if he isn’t going to kill us, so I head to the wooden chair near the firepit to the right and slump into it, stretching out my legs. Archel follows me, sitting on the floor and pressing his head into my lap, so I comb through his hair.

  Jago stands near the door with his arms crossed but leans back, which is as casual as he will get. Evan hesitates for a moment before joining us, not daring to sit on the other chair, so he sits on the floor next to me.

  “How cool is this place?” I tell them. If he doesn’t want to talk to us then we might as well talk amongst ourselves.

  “Who knew this was hiding in the mountain?” Jago agrees.

  “I like these people. Did you see that blacksmith?” Archel coos, his eyes closed as he leans back towards me. “Remind me to get you something from them before we leave.”

  “You going to buy me a new knife?” I tease and he grins.

  “Anything sharp and shiny to keep my killer princess happy.” He grins as I start to plait little sections of his hair.

  “So, do we just wait here, you reckon?” Evan inquires, nudging closer to Archel to get to me.

  “I guess so, could be worse, our heads could be on spikes or something.” I laugh.

  “We don’t spike heads, we use their skulls for our decorations,” comes a new voice. I turn to see the big guy watching us. Holy fuck, was that him? His voice was thick, rough, and unused but sexy as hell, dark, and low. It even sends a shiver through me—okay, so the voice matches the man. It’s all he says and then he turns away again.

  I look at the others with an open mouth and excited eyes to see Jago shaking his head at me. “Don’t push it, Brawler.”

  “What a neat idea, we could decorate our house with skulls. Archel and Jago, provide the skulls. Evan and I will decorate,” I offer.

  “Hey, why am I stuck decorating?” Evan grumbles.

  “I’ll help, means I can feel her up,” Jago remarks, making me laugh.

  “I bet if we talk enough, he will get annoyed and have to speak to us,” I muse.

  “Or kill us,” Archel points out.

  I hear the mountain man grunt and head our way, slumping into the other chair and watching us, the firelight illuminating his odd eyes which I am partially obsessed with.

  “What’s your name?” I find myself asking.

  “Clay,” he rumbles, and I have to clench my thighs together. Jesus, a voice has never affected me like this.

  “Is that short for something?” I press, watching him too. “Like…Claymond?” I blurt, and then wince.

  “Like Claymine,” he fires back.

  Okay then, so obsessed with bombs and things that go boom they named themselves after it…it is kind of a hot name though.

  “Dude, once you start talking, you don’t stop, do you?” I tease with a smile. He just stares at me, so I try something else, anything to keep him talking in that sexy as sin voice. “The markings on your chest, are they tattoos or…?”

  “It’s made from dust of the mountain and water, it is a symbol for our warriors,” he replies curtly.

  “Oh, that’s cool, and your leader has red?” I question, and he inclines his head.

  “What’s the tested? That’s what he was going to see, right?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking and learn more about these people.

  “It is when our children become warriors. They are tested in the ways of the old. Sent out into the mountains, they must survive a night out there alone, if they make it back, they are proclaimed.”

  “Proclaimed?” I repeat with a frown.

  “Yes, proclaimed a true warrior.” He stands then, looking at us. “You all stay here.”

  He turns to walk away, so I leap to my feet. “Wait, what?”

  “Sleep, tomorrow you will see our pascha,” he rumbles, before striding away.

  Okay, conversation over, I guess.

  He doesn’t come back that night. Deciding it might be rude to take his bed, we steal his fur blankets instead and curl up near the flames in a big puppy pile. It’s a good thing we have time before we have to meet Worth, but I am betting it isn’t going to be easy to convince them to help us win this war.

  They have the numbers though, and from the fighters we have seen…we need them. And maybe, just maybe, they need us to bring them back to this world and make them part of it. So they are not alone.

  There is a reason they exist in peace with The Forgotten. They need them to protect their secret and homes—well, entrance to their homes. Maybe I can use that with the pascha? I think that’s what Clay called him, it must be the word for leader.

  I sleep well despite being a in a strange, threatening place, and when I wake I find Clay there, sitting in his chair, leaning forward and staring at me. When he notices I am awake, he gets to his feet.

  “Pascha will see you now.”

  Twenty

  Prove Myself

  We are led back down the inside of the mountain to the throne hall where the leader, pascha, from yesterday, is waiting up on his throne again. His one eye tracks us like you see in animals until we stop before him.

  “Tribes members,” he greets, his eyes running across us and landing on Clay. They seem to communicate silently before he looks back at us. “War?”

  Wow, no beating around the bush.

  “War,” I agree. “The Cities, have you heard of them?”

  He scowls. “We do not worry about things beyond our mountains.”

  “They are a huge civilisation with more people than the whole north put together, they have soldiers, cars, weapons you can’t imagine…and they are coming north. They plan to either bend us to their will or kill us all,” I say bluntly, and his eye narrows, the other one too, though there isn’t an eyeball there…creepy. “We are meeting them head-on, all the clans of the north are, but we need as many warriors as we can get. I have heard stories of your warriors’ abilities and the way you wield explosive material like we would a sword, and came to ask your help.”

  “And why would we help?” He snorts.

  “Because if you do not, The Forgotten will fall, and so will your protection against the world. They will no longer be your buffer and we all know you need them for that. The Cities will come here, and they will kill you all in your mountains. Fight with us, or die hiding,” I snap, and step closer. “You speak of your courage, your warriors, who you have been training since children…to what? I think for this very day! What kind of warriors would you be if you hide in this…this lonely mountain? You may not want to be part of our world, Pascha, but you are, and our world is being threatened and you have the means to save it. Will you really sit idly by on your blade throne? What kind of leader would that make you?”

  The room goes silent, I feel all eyes on me, but I don’t break mine and the pascha’s staring contest…well, erm…eye, I guess.

  “Say you are right, say I agree with everything you are saying…why would I trust my men with you? I could not leave my haven, my people need us here to protect them…why would I send them with you? A stranger. You may be Forgotten, but I do not know you and my men…my men only trust men stronger than them, and you are just a little girl wi
th a big mouth,” he taunts.

  He thinks he is insulting me, but he has no idea that I hear that on the daily. “Then let me prove myself,” I yell, and turn to see rows and rows of people gathered behind us now. They must have come in during his speech. They watch us carefully with distrust in their eyes. “Your word! Give me a task, let me prove myself to you and your warriors, and when I complete it…” I turn to the pascha then with a wink. “And I will, you agree to help with the war, send your people with me. You have never met anyone like me, Pascha. You are right, I’m a little girl with a big mouth and an even bigger stubborn streak. I have been killed once before, and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon again. Whatever you throw at me, I will defeat it…how do you think I earned the men with me, trust and love?” I step closer to him then and tilt my head down in respect. “Your word, you give me a challenge…a test like you do your men, and when I complete it, your warriors will follow me into the Wastes to fight this war.”

  He watches me, analysing me, and murmurs go up among the warriors in the room. “The stash,” Clay rumbles, and the pascha flickers him a glance, a small smile coming to his face.

  He booms out a laugh and grins at me, sitting forward on the throne. “Fine, little warrior, you want to prove yourself? We have a deal if you can complete the testing.”

  I nod and he continues, “Complete the task that not even some of our best warriors could, and you will have anything you wish!” he booms, and a roar goes up, but he stands and they turn silent. “A couple of weeks ago, the eaters moved in just across our land, blocking off our supplies. We keep some out there in case of an attack, so our stash isn’t all in one place. We have sent warrior after warrior after them, but so far none have come back. They are smart, vicious, and using the mountains. You want to prove yourself? Go through eater land, get us that stash, and come back, then we can talk.” He grins.