“What do you think she’s…” He trailed off as he realized Albion wasn’t there.
His mother turned, as if recognizing they were there, and smiled. For a moment, Ty thought he had caught a glimpse of something behind her, as if the lava lake had created a streamer of flame that somehow glowed with a strange energy, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was real or just imagined. This place often played tricks on them.
A whistle nearby caught his attention, and he looked over to see Albion standing near the lava lake, whistling the velum sound as his mother joined in. Ty tried to make the sound too, and once again failed. As they whistled, Ty could practically feel the jungle swell with activity—velum responding to the call, but not making their presence seen.
Then a strange trill jolted his thoughts into the present, and he looked around.
Ty shook those thoughts away. It had been a long time ago since he had been in the jungle, long enough that he no longer considered it home the way he once had. Still, when he came across a hunter’s trap, he unsheathed his dragon-bone dagger, cut it free, and continued up the narrow path.
He looked up into the trees. The trill was an actual velum whistle, not the memory of Albion and his mother mimicking the sound. He didn’t see any sign of the velum now, but they had to be there somewhere. Ty tried whistling, mostly for himself—he knew he wasn’t going to draw the velum in or scare them away.
He stayed on the path, heading up the side of the mountain. He had gone only a little farther when the trembling came again.
The priests believed they could do something about the possible eruption, as if praying would somehow protect people from the volcano. When the trembling came yet again, he debated going back, but he needed to see the expedition. If he was going to leave Zarinth—and he was trying to convince himself he would—he needed the right kind of score. Now that he didn’t even have the dragon bones, he wasn’t sure what it was going to take.
Ty jogged up the path. It was a bit difficult to move quickly, especially as he had to duck beneath the vines and branches that tried to snare him, but for the most part, he managed to. He paused every time the ground rumbled again, listening to it, prepared for its strangeness, but there was nothing more.
The trees began to grow even more densely together.
He was getting close to the lava lake.
Ty would be able to feel the rising heat in the air even if the trees weren’t growing together. He would know that heat anywhere. The jungle itself was incredibly hot, but it was worse near the lava lake.
He slowed, listening. Most creatures stayed away from this part of the jungle. There was no reason for them to venture here. It was dangerous near the lava lake, and many of them simply couldn’t withstand the heat.
When he reached the outskirts of the lava lake, he moved toward it slowly, feeling the intense heat radiating from it. Steam drifted through the trees, creating something of a fog around everything. He had to cover his mouth, not wanting to breathe in too much of the hot air. It didn’t help completely, but was enough to make it tolerable.
The trees around him cast a shadow around everything, though a glowing light came from the lava lake, as if it were one of the dragon lights itself. Getting close to the lake, he could almost imagine the power of the Flame and could almost understand why the Priests of the Flame celebrated it the way they did.
Almost.
Then there was the way his mother had celebrated the lava lake. He never really understood why, or what reason she had for coming up here. She had respected all things natural though—not only the velum, but the idea of the dragons, and had always had an interest in their relics.
He made his way around the outskirts of the lake, looking toward the flames.
Every so often, there came a faint trembling from within the lake.
Where would the expedition have been?
If it had been near the lava lake, Ty would’ve expected to see it, but there was no sign of any transport coming through here. They must have used a different path heading down the slope, one that was less active.
He continued along the lake, still seeing nothing. He paused at one point, glancing down and noticing a pile of rocks before he moved on. There was no evidence that anybody else had come here. Very few people risked doing so. Most feared getting too close to it, thinking they would burn up just by their proximity to it, and there was something to be said about that. It was not necessarily safe to get as close to it as Ty was; there was always the chance there would be an exploding bubble of lava. At least one person from Zarinth had died because they got too close to the lake.
Ty noticed something new though.
Lava must have bubbled free.
Now he saw something. Many of the trees in the jungle had scorched branches, stunted arms that reached toward the lake, only to be burned away as they caught fire.
Ishantil really was more active.
He paused near a finger of rock. There were dozens of them stretching out of the lava lake, looking as if the lava had poured up at certain points, then cooled, congealed, and formed arms that angled up and toward the center of the lake, like massive claws straining to hold the lava in.
His brother would find that thought too close to thinking the Flame was something to celebrate. The ground rumbled again and Ty staggered forward, catching himself only two paces before falling into the lake itself.
While he hadn’t seen any sign of the expedition, he realized that it wouldn’t necessarily be near the lava lake. Wherever it was, he would come across digging and excavation. He also figured some of the archaeologists were probably still working. They wouldn’t have abandoned the dig site just yet, not because of Ishantil. They would only do that if they had already found everything possible to excavate.
He continued onward when he caught a flicker of movement behind him.
Ty paused, turning slowly, reaching for his dragon-bone knife. He looked through the jungle, thinking maybe he had come across the expedition, but the movement hadn’t come from there.
It had come from the trees.
He looked up and spun just as one of the velum came jumping toward him. It had a rounded, furred face and massive fangs, and its two arms were swinging toward him. Ty kicked, catching the creature in the stomach. The velum reacted, scrambling toward him.
Ty tried whistling the way his mother and Albion had taught him, but couldn’t remember how to do it quite right. He had to chase the creature off somehow. If he ran now, he’d draw the attention of other velum.
When the velum launched himself at Ty again, he spun off to the side. It raked its claws at him, barely missing. The velum reacted, spinning toward him again and ripping at him with its claws.
Ty dropped to the ground, trying to avoid the next attack. As the velum soared over him, he reached up, grabbed it by its arm, and swung. Ty meant to swing the creature toward a tree, away from him, but the creature slashed at him and Ty lost his grip. It went tumbling toward the lava lake.
The velum screamed. It was a loud, painful shriek, and it split the silence of the jungle. That might attract more of the velum. The scream died off as the creature hit the lava lake and began to burn.
An attack like that was unusual. The velum didn’t often attack, not unprovoked, and not unless they were hunting. He scanned the treetops but didn’t see any sign of other velum.
Could it be the disruption of Ishantil that had them on edge?
He had never mastered the whistle that his mother—and his brother—had known to use with the velum. Now he wished he would have tried harder. Or more recently. Since moving to the city, he hadn’t the need to practice the whistle in the same way.
He was tempted to return back down the mountainside, but he had come up here for a reason. Ty wasn’t going to let one angry velum scare him away. He needed to find the expedition. Albion had mentioned that the expedition could tell Ishantil was unsettled. That meant it had to be close to the lava lake.
The
lake wasn’t visible from most places in the jungle. The trees were too dense. Branches and massive leaves made it difficult to see more than a few paces away. And because of that, he had an idea.
He looped around the lava lake, scrambling over rock, ducking between trees, and always circling in a way that would keep the lake in view. He made certain not to make too much noise, not wanting to draw the attention of the velum, but there had been no additional sounds. It was just him.
Finally, he saw a section of the jungle that had been disrupted.
Ty slowed as he approached.
At first, he thought the dig site had been abandoned, but that wasn’t it at all. There was a trail of hardened lava leading up to it. Ishantil had already erupted once. And it had destroyed everything around the dig site.
They were done. The expedition gone. There was nothing more to find here.
Why hadn’t Albion said anything?
Perhaps he hadn’t known. The priests wouldn’t necessarily be privy to what the archaeologists had encountered. And his brother was a visiting priest, not even one stationed in the city. He had been permitted to help sort through the find, but that didn’t mean that Albion would have access to all parts of the expedition.
Still, he did serve the High Priest. That seemed to matter.
He moved carefully around the remnants of the dig site, and found where they had excavated. He couldn’t see much of it, only that there were sections of the ground that had been carefully removed, but lava had layered over the top of it, making it impossible for him to make anything else out.
The ground trembled again. He glanced over to Ishantil, and saw a bubble of fire bursting from the lava lake.
It’s not safe to be here now.
In fact, it was actively stupid for him to be here. If it remained this unsettled, then there was no reason for anyone to come back up here. Ishantil was certainly more active now than he had ever seen it. What would happen if that lava lake completely erupted, running down the mountainside?
It’s time to go.
That thought stayed with him.
He made his way back to the path he’d used coming up the mountainside, then hurried down it. He made a point of steering clear of any places he knew the velum to have been, and by the time he reached the base of the mountain, stepping free of the jungle, he was tired, but also resolved to do what he had planned.
It was time to leave.
Ty started into the city, heading toward Maggie’s caravan. The streets were quiet, though not empty, but as he approached where she’d set up, he found she had already left.
He wasn’t going to be able to go with her.
Ishantil rumbled, and he looked up. It was getting dark, and he noticed that the glow at the summit had shifted. Now it seemed to spurt angry sprays of lava as the volcano neared its full eruption.
The farther he went into the city, the more people he saw rushing through, carrying their belongings, and scrambling away. More people were evacuating. They were the smart ones—or, at least, they were the ones with the means to leave and find a place to settle. Those on the outskirts of the city had not evacuated. Those closest to Ishantil didn’t have the funds to do so.
They would be trapped. If Ishantil fully erupted, the way that Ty increasingly feared it might, they would be trapped here.
They had to hope it wouldn’t destroy their home, but that was all it was—hope, as foolish as following the Path of the Flame.
He stood in place, then noticed the ground trembling longer and with more energy than it had before. The brightness up on the mountaintop started to shift again.
Ishantil had started to erupt.
It was time for him to move. Time to leave.
But how was he going to do it?
Chapter Seven
A knock woke him from sleep and Ty stirred, then he got up to check the door of his small home, dragon-bone dagger in hand. The surface of the dagger was painted black, concealing that it was dragon bone, and supposedly making it so the Dragon Touched couldn’t detect it, but the warmth within it always served as a reminder of the value it possessed. The dagger was incredibly sharp and, theoretically, couldn’t be easily damaged—though Ty had never tested that and had no intention of doing so. It also had the advantage of not needing to be sharpened.
He was tired, still slowly shuffling to the door, and when another knock came, he shook his head. He wanted to go back to bed, but he had plans to make. The eruption had been brief, but long enough to put fear into Ty’s heart.
He had wandered the city, watching as those with money joined caravans carrying far more than they normally would, heading through the narrow valley leading into the rest of the kingdom. He had searched for Maggie, thinking he might be able to find her wagons, but saw no sign of her. She was well and truly gone.
If only she would have waited for him—but she’d been waiting for him for the better part of several years, and in that time, he had never gone with her. First, because he had found an opportunity—he was going to be a healer, gaining some experience with one of the local folk healers after his parents’ initial disappearance—then, because he had moved into a different line of work.
After trying to find Maggie, Ty had gone looking for his brother. It would be another way to leave the city, but he didn’t know where Albion had gone either. His belongings were still in the room, which suggested he was in no hurry to leave. After that, Ty had come back home and thought to get an hour or two of rest, but had slept longer than he intended.
“Who’s there?” Ty asked.
“Open the damn door, Tydornen.”
Ty cracked the door open just a little bit, poking his eye out. “What are you doing here, Bingham? What time is it, anyway?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes but still felt exhausted. How long had he been sleeping?
“Late enough that you got the rest you need. Now, are you going to open the door or are you going to make me push it open?”
“You might as well break it down. It’s not going to matter soon enough,” Ty said.
Bingham shoved on the door, and since Ty hadn’t really done anything to keep it closed, it slammed open, forcing him back. Bingham stormed into Ty’s small home. “It smells terrible in here.”
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Ty said.
“You could keep it a little neater than this,” Bingham muttered, looking around.
“Neater than what?” Ty headed to the window and pulled the curtain open. Early morning light was visible, though it was still somewhat dark. “You never told me what time it is.”
“Time for us to get moving.”
“Like the rest of the city,” Ty said.
Bingham regarded him with flat eyes. “Exactly. I’ve been talking to some of my contacts, and both the priests and the archaeologists think that we have no more than a week before Ishantil fully erupts. We haven’t seen anything like this for centuries. It’s why people are scrambling. Those who know somebody, or know somebody who knows somebody, are getting out of the city.”
That explained why the exodus from the city had begun to spread to those who wouldn’t be as well-connected. They had been paying attention to what those with money were doing. And getting more money so he could leave was part of the reason he had been willing to go up the mountain, but that opportunity was gone as well.
Why were there wagons outside the city though?
The rest of the expedition would already have been gone, but not the wagons. Soldiers, he told himself. That was why. They were waiting to escort the soldiers, and perhaps even the Dragon Touched, out of the city.
“Do you have something in mind?” Ty asked.
Leave it to Bingham to bail him out. For a cost, Ty knew, but maybe the old man would have something for him.
“I have a woman who’s agreed to carry us toward Carn, but it’s going to cost more than I have. So now we need a big score to fund transportation. I thought she was bad, but prices have gotten ridiculous,” Bing
ham said. “I was thinking we could head up the mountain, see what we might be able to scavenge from the expedition, and—”
“It’s too late,” Ty said. He told Bingham what he had seen: the way the lava had been erupting and the destruction of the expedition, emphasizing that there was nothing left for them to gather.
Bingham started pacing in place, frowning deeply.
“That complicates things,” he muttered. “Ah, damn.”
“Bingham?”
He stood motionless. Ty had seen him like this a few times before, always when planning.
“Merchants have already shipped everything of value with their wagons, so we could hit the wagons.” He stopped, shaking his head. “Not that we could hit them with the soldiers and Dragon Touched hired to guard them—too dangerous, and others will have the same idea.” He frowned again. “A couple of jobs… too time consuming. We just have a week—maybe less, after what I saw last night.”
“Bingham?” Ty asked again, trying to get his attention.
He still didn’t look over.
“I can feel it deep in my bones. Something big this time. I’ve got my reserves, but that’s not enough for all of…” He looked up as he trailed off. “I might have an idea. It’ll definitely earn what we need, and then some. Not much time—not nearly enough—but it might be the better option anyway since we’re going to need enough money to get set up after we get out…”
“Would you stop?” He’d never seen Bingham so unsettled and distracted. “What are you going on about?”
“It might be better if I show you.”
Ty sighed and slipped his dagger into its sheath, making sure it remained concealed. He took a scarf too. He didn’t use one most of the time, but having it did offer some benefits. He could use it to conceal his identity, at least a little, though there were some places in the city where he might still be identified, especially the places he frequented. He had to be careful there, ensuring he was better covered when he visited them while working.
Path of the Flame (The Dragon Thief Book 1) Page 7