This one was distant, and farther upslope.
Ty headed for it.
There came another rustling behind him and he paused again, spinning, but didn’t see any sign of the velum like he had before. If they were following him, he didn’t know if he would be able to do much of anything. At least he had his dragon-bone dagger, and he could use that if it came down to it, but he had no intention of carving through velum if it wasn’t necessary.
He scanned the treetops, searching for signs of the velum, either a single one or several, but still didn’t see anything. Ty took a deep breath, settling his nerves, then he started back up. He could hear the sound of movement again and paused, looking around.
It was subtle, but when he heard these sounds around him, he couldn’t help but feel as if there were something there, something he needed to try to reach.
He lingered for a moment, knowing now that the path was close by, and he stayed within reach of it.
He hurried forward again and climbed.
Gradually, the sound of rustling around him began to fade, and he no longer thought the velum were following him. The chanting of the priests, too, grew increasingly muted—perhaps because the sounds of the jungle had swallowed it, or perhaps the priests were struggling to make their way up the mountainside. The High Priest, in particular, was older, and Ty didn’t think he would be able to move as quickly as Ty could. The other priests with him were a bit younger, though not much—certainly not as young as Ty or his brother.
Taking the Path of the Flame was difficult. The stairs were steep, narrow, and led straight up Ishantil, not at all like the winding footpaths that worked up the side of the volcano. Under normal circumstances, it would be very difficult to make the climb, but Ishantil was angry now. He couldn’t imagine how difficult this journey was for the priests, but hopefully that meant he had time.
Ty paused at one point, listening again, but he didn’t hear anything else out there now—the sounds of movement and chanting had disappeared. He waited, thinking he might find something, but he didn’t. The velum seemed to have left him alone, and he figured he should be relieved by that, though there was a part of him that was still worried.
He headed off to the right, using the gap in sound and movement as an opportunity to get closer to the path. Once he reached the path, he looked for any sign of the priests, but there was none. The path here was hard-packed dirt, little more than a narrow trail that wove through the jungle. There were sections of it that disappeared altogether, and he might lose sight of it if he didn’t watch closely, but Ty had enough experience in following it that he could catch it again. Others would not. He stayed along it, moving more quickly now that he was out of the thicker part of the jungle.
A steady rumbling shook the mountain, and he froze.
It felt to Ty that this was a race against Ishantil, even though he knew that the priests believed they could stop it. The Asharlath Ceremony his brother had told him about had to be about the egg.
Why though?
The trembling lasted longer than it had in quite some time. Ty staggered, trying to stay on his feet, worried that he would be tossed to the ground. It was almost as if Ishantil were angry that he was bothering to come here.
Finally, it eased. He got to his feet and raced up the path. Every so often, he could swear he felt something behind him, causing him to look along the path, then up to the trees, wondering if the velum were chasing him.
But there was nobody on the path, and nothing in the trees.
He had a hard time thinking the priests could move as quickly as him. None of them knew the jungle the way he did. He stumbled forward, managing to catch himself for a moment, and used that time to catch his breath.
The trembling came again when he was nearly to the lava lake.
When he paused, he waited for the trembling to die down while he continued looking around, listening for any sound of movement. Though he didn’t hear anything, he still felt something.
He hesitated a moment, then started jogging once again.
Finally, he neared the lava lake.
Ty slowed now. As he was close to the lake, he wanted to have a chance to take a look around it, to see if there was any sign of the High Priest. So far, he still had not seen him.
He thought there was somebody up along the path ahead of him, and he crept forward, toward what slowly resolved itself to be a cloaked figure.
The High Priest had come ahead of the others? Ty waited, watching. What is he doing?
He was standing in front of the lava lake, staring out over the fire.
Coming to the lava lake was a unique experience, mostly because it was such an unfathomably vast expanse of power; it was a representation of fire that was not seen anywhere else. Even those who celebrated the Flame viewed the lava lake with a certain reverence, and Ty, who didn’t have any religious tendencies, felt awed by it.
The trembling came again and the figure stumbled slightly, then turned toward him.
It wasn’t the High Priest.
Ty stepped forward. He wasn’t exactly sure why Gayal was here, but she had beaten the priests of the mountainside, and she had beaten Roson James, assuming he had followed them—and Ty wouldn’t have put it past him to have done so.
More than that, he wouldn’t have put it past either of them to have already learned that the High Priest was the Dragon Thief. That had to be why she was here. She was chasing him, determined to get to the Dragon Thief before Roson did.
Maybe it wasn’t even about the egg for her, as she had said. All of this was about the Dragon Thief.
And Ty—and Eastley—were all caught up in it.
As Ty stepped forward, the Tecal pulled back the hood of her strange black cloak, glancing up to the trees for just a moment before positioning it back on her head.
“You should not be here,” she said.
“I grew up around here—not here, exactly, but I grew up in the jungle. I should be here more than you should. Is this all about the Dragon Thief? You just wanted to get here—get to him—before Roson did?”
“This is more than you can understand.”
He realized she had some dragon relics that sat along the shoreline of the lava lake. Many of them were enormous, and all of them were authentic. He pushed past her, ignoring the way she watched him. He ignored everything besides the relics he saw gathered there.
Ty looked over to her. “What is this?”
“There was a time when people believed that the volcano, and the Flame, could be calmed with the right connection.”
He frowned. “That’s what this is about? You think you can calm down the Flame with dragon relics?”
He wouldn’t have expected that from her—maybe from one of the priests, but not her.
“As I said, you wouldn’t understand.”
Ty crouched down, lifting one of the dragon relics. It was made of obsidian, and he lifted it, turning it, recognizing its authenticity. It was incredibly valuable—the kind of thing Bingham would’ve sent Ty after many times, and that Ty would have failed to reach many times. This was the kind of thing the king would’ve prized.
“Does the king know you have this?” Ty asked.
“Again,” she said, “you don’t understand.”
“Why are you really here?” He took a step toward her. Ishantil trembled, rumbling, and threatened to toss him off his feet. He tried to stay balanced, not wanting to fall, but found it was more difficult than he expected. Ty dropped to the warm stone beneath him, resting on his hands and knees. There was a part of him that was afraid Ishantil would bubble up, spew lava toward him and burn him, but it didn’t. He was safe—at least, for now.
How long would that last?
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and he turned and looked all around him. “It’s about more than just the Dragon Thief, isn’t it? I thought you and Roson were after him, competing for the egg, but that isn’t it.”
She watched him.
“What is it?” Ty asked.
He thought about what he knew of the Tecal, and what he knew of how they serve the king, but it didn’t fit. The Tecal work as the keeper of secrets. They were spies. This wasn’t about spying. This was about the Flame.
Then there was the way he had seen her inside the temple, how she had been celebrating. She was one of the faithful.
“Are you not one of the Tecal?” Ty asked.
She glowered at him. “Do not challenge me on that.”
“I’m just trying to understand,” he said. “If you aren’t one of the Tecal, then I might be able to help you—and you might be able to help me. I want Eastley back, and we need to get out of here before Ishantil erupts.”
“It is too late for that,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“It will erupt unless the Asharlath Ceremony is completed.”
“You want it to be completed?” That was a shock.
“These lands are valuable to the kingdom, regardless of what the Dragon Touched believe.”
“Why will the ceremony calm Ishantil? What is it, exactly?”
“An ancient ceremony,” she said.
“So you’re working with the priests.”
Here he thought the priests and the king worked against each other, but maybe that was wrong. Maybe all he knew was wrong. Then again, he didn’t really understand what the king was after, or the way he was trying to defend his lands.
“The king understands the value of the Flame,” she said. “It is the Dragon Touched who think otherwise. They challenge the role of the Flame within the kingdom.”
“That hasn’t been my experience,” Ty stated.
“Then you haven’t had much experience.”
He started to smile, but she didn’t.
“If the ceremony doesn’t finish, then Ishantil will erupt. Zarinth will be lost. These lands will no longer be under the control of the king.”
That was the reason. “How do you know this ceremony will even work?”
“I don’t.”
He started to smile again. “So you have faith.”
“There are times when you must take certain things on faith.”
“I’ve never had much use for faith,” Ty stated.
He looked behind him, toward the lava bubbling up. It was hot, but not so hot he couldn’t withstand it. He had known the power of the lava lake based on his prior visits to it, had felt it—and he had been there on other occasions when it had bubbled.
Had there been another Asharlath Ceremony before?
It seemed to him that there would have to have been, wouldn’t there?
“The king knew you were coming for this reason?” Ty asked.
“The king trusts my judgment.”
“And what about Roson?”
“The king trusts he will serve as he has been instructed to.”
“And by that, you mean violently,” Ty stated.
“If the situation demands it,” she replied.
“And the Dragon Thief?”
“My position there has not changed.”
That wasn’t an answer, and he was left wondering what position hers might be, how she truly felt about the Dragon Thief. If this was about the egg, was there some intention to bring it here and have some ceremony—then do what? Try to hatch it?
That seemed ridiculous, but there was a part of him that was curious. What would it look like to see an egg hatch? What would it feel like, if anything?
“I found the egg,” Ty said.
“I know.”
“How long have you known for?”
“When you looked to the temple, I knew.”
From the night before. Here he had thought he had been keeping that from her, that he had been deceiving her, but she was a spy for the king, a secret keeper, so how could he think to keep a secret from her?
“You didn’t go after it?” Ty asked.
“I could not.”
“Because of the priests?”
“Because they had it protected.”
He turned away from her. She had known, but she had not gone after it. She was waiting for the Dragon Thief to bring the egg. It still was a part of the ceremony.
“Was it your intention to use the egg for the ceremony all along? You just wanted to stop the Dragon Thief?” She was silent, and Ty snorted. “Has it always been about the Dragon Thief?”
“Not for me.”
Ty looked back to the lava lake, feeling the heat, the trembling. Being this close to it, Ty could almost imagine a connection to the lake, a connection to the Flame. For so long, he had denied there was any real power to the Flame, mostly because he knew such things weren’t even possible. But here…
He couldn’t deny it now. It was strange, but probably nothing more than his imagination. Since coming up here, though, Ishantil had been quiet. That was strange too.
Far below, the chanting continued to build.
Something about it sounded pained.
It was only then that Ty realized there was another sound mixed in with it.
“What is it?” Gayal asked.
Ty listened for another moment, wanting to ensure he really heard what he thought he did, but the cry was distinct, though not nearly as loud as before. He was sure he hadn’t imagined it. They were in trouble.
He looked over to the lava lake, along the length of the shore, a debate waging in his mind. Ty had come here wanting to find the egg, to ensure Eastley’s safety, and to figure out what was going on, but now he had to do something else.
He started off.
“Where are you going?” Gayal asked.
“My brother is down there.”
“So?”
“And the velum are attacking.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
He and Gayal raced down the path with her staying several paces in front of him. Every so often, he caught a fluttering from the back of her cloak and was reminded of the strangeness he had seen in the city, though he still didn’t have any answers as to why it would look that way. Maybe it was just some aspect of the cloak itself. He had little doubt the king would have gifted his servants with strange magical artifacts, and the Tecal would likely have been gifted some of the strangest among them.
The chanting cut off suddenly, and the velum cried out.
“We need to go quickly,” Ty said. “The velum are creatures of the forest. They generally leave people alone, but they’ve been acting strangely lately. They attacked part of the last expedition coming to the forest, and—”
Ty realized he might’ve said too much. He had followed that expedition, but he hadn’t wanted to reveal his presence to anyone. Gayal took it in stride.
“How do you stop them?” she asked.
“They can be scared away, unless there’s an entire pack of them.”
Albion should know that, but it was information he learned long ago. How much had Albion forgotten about his past?
“How many are in a pack?” she asked.
“I’ve never seen more than a dozen at a time, so I would say probably no more than that.”
A dozen velum would be scary, but manageable—especially with the three priests and him and Gayal. That said, they could be wild and violent. He wasn’t looking forward to getting clawed up.
Maybe Gayal had some magical way of chasing the velum away. She certainly seemed like she might. He followed her down, then he saw them, just as they reached a small bend in the path.
The priests were cowering on the ground, and the High Priest had the basket in his hands, still trying to hold it above the ground, the drape of fabric over his hands. He was chanting, but his voice was mixed with a fearful moaning. A dozen velum were all around them, slashing at the priests—and they were larger than he had ever seen before. Several of them had deep silver in their fur, and one of them had what looked to be a club and was battering one of the priests. The priests tried to push them away, but the velum were too overwhelming, forcing the prie
sts to find some sort of shelter.
From the trees came the sound of other velum.
“This is more than a dozen,” Gayal said.
It was unusual to see so many of them together.
One of the velum dropped toward Gayal, and she shouted, driving a fist upward. The velum brandished a white knife. Dragon bone. The velum shrieked.
The other velum turned around.
Each of them had a weapon as well.
Here he thought the velum had been slashing at the priests with claws, but they gripped their own dragon bone in hand as if they were human. He had never seen anything quite like it, had never seen velum with weapons, and though he had seen the velum swinging in the trees before, he had never encountered them up close like this.
They were smart, but not smart enough to use weapons.
Maybe he had never known the truth about them.
Had his mother? She had known their whistle, and had known how to call them and send them away. She had seemed to treat them with a measure of respect that the trappers and hunters in the jungle never did.
The velum shrieked again.
Even if he respected them, he had to be careful now.
Gayal unsheathed a sword.
The velum were now paying attention to him and Gayal—and screaming. Their voices carried up over the forest, creating a cacophony of noise that was painful to Ty’s ears. He positioned himself so he wouldn’t be surprised by any of them, and his gaze darted around the forest, looking for any signs that one might drop down onto him, but there were none.
If they were going to jump, he wanted to be ready.
“I’ve seen men try to use swords in the jungle. They catch the vines, the shrubs, or the trees. You can’t do anything with that here,” Ty said.
“I can stab,” she said.
The velum closest to him, the one with the silver in its fur who was holding up the dragon-bone knife, screeched at him. Ty shrieked back at the velum, but it did nothing. The velum seemed to ignore him.
Ty wasn’t scary. He had never terrified them before. The velum had chased him in the jungle and had never worried about him. If only he knew his mother’s whistle.
Path of the Flame (The Dragon Thief Book 1) Page 23