“It was a temple, I think.” Galahad agreed distractedly, checking the map again. He was definitely headed in the right direction. Probably. Jesus, whoever drew it had seriously needed drawing lessons. See, this is why art schools were so important. He shoved over a promising cairn that was as large as he was, stepping back as the rocks clattered to the ground around him.
Trystan had apparently had enough. “Perhaps it makes sense to you and your heathen kind to desecrate religious spots, but I do not see the point in it.”
Galahad glanced at Trystan in surprise. “You believe in God?”
“Several of them.”
Gryphons had a religion? The Knights’ Academy had taught that the gryphons were all godless monsters. Galahad should’ve known they were lying. They’d lied about everything, his whole life. Rage flickered. The dark, bottomless fury that always stirred now, when he thought about the Knights’ Academy, and King Uther, and all the bullshit he’d once blindly believed.
“Your men burned all my people’s temples.” Trystan went on in a flat voice. “Why did you think we built them, if not to pray?”
“I never burned any temples. I didn’t even know gryphons had temples.”
Trystan regarded him with unreadable brown eyes. “Uther burned my people’s temples. Systematically and relentlessly, in his quest for the Looking Glass Pool. You led Uther’s soldiers. How could you not know about it?”
“Because I’m a fucking idiot.” Galahad snapped, his anger at himself and Trystan and Camelot making him sharper than usual. He didn’t like to get angry, because he was always afraid he’d lose control. The words were just there on his tongue, though, before he could call them back. “Haven’t you said so yourself?”
Trystan tilted his head, watching him silently.
“Uther knew I was an idiot, too.” Being away from Camelot, Galahad saw everything so clearly. “He knew he could lie to me and I’d believe it. I did believe it. I loved him like a father. I truly did. I believed all of his lies, because there was no one there to tell me the truth. I would have done anything Uther wanted. So long as I thought it was honorable, I carried out all the orders he gave. It’s why he made sure my assignments always upheld the Knights’ Code.”
A knight protects those weaker than himself.
Galahad believed in God, but that pledge was his only true religion. The foundation of his self. Uther had known that and used that against him. Galahad had fought his battles and thought they were just. But behind the scenes, other men slaughtered the innocent in Uther’s name. It wasn’t until Legion that Galahad had seen…
No.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm down. What was he doing? He didn’t like talking about his time in the War, because it brought back memories he wanted to forget. These days, Galahad only cared about living his own truth, not sharing it with others. No one would believe him anyway. And why the hell was he arguing with Trystan? Did he doubt that temples had been burned? Did he blame Trystan for despising him? Of course not. Galahad despised himself, too. It was why he was on this mission. To make things right, in some small way.
“I’m sorry.” He opened his eyes to look at Trystan, his brief spark of temper fading. “You’re right. What happened was as much my fault as anyone’s. I should have seen and I didn’t. There’s no excuse.”
Trystan still didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry I was swearing at you, too. I try not to do that. Avalon doesn’t like it. And she’s right. It sets a Bad example for children.”
Trystan arched an incredulous brow.
“I’m not destroying these rock formations for fun, though.” Galahad went on. “I’m looking for something. I’ll be more careful with them, if it matters to you.”
Trystan studied him for a long beat. “Fine.” That seemed to be his favorite word.
“‘Fine’ meaning you believe me?”
Trystan sighed. Louder than before. “Why do you struggle with your own language?”
“Because the word ‘fine’ doesn’t really tell me anything.”
“Then you are not listening correctly.” Trystan looked up to gauge the position of the sun. “It grows late in the day. Hurry and find what you are looking for, so we can be away from this place before nightfall. It is not a spot where I wish to linger in the dark.”
Was this some kind of peace offering? Is that what he meant by “fine?” Galahad thought maybe it was and it sent his mood soaring. He was attracted to Trystan when the gryphon was grouchy and uncommunicative. When he was acting semi-pleasant, though, Galahad felt completely dazzled.
Completely.
He stared at Trystan for a long beat, unsure what he should do about the feeling of rightness that filled him when he looked at the man. First of all, no one else had ever felt right before, so he’d never felt this pull towards another person. It was a little disconcerting. And secondly because Galahad wasn’t all that great with people. They never seemed to want to get close to him. He wasn’t sure what he should say to make Trystan like him.
This was going to take some serious thought.
Thinking about giving it thought made him think of other things. His mind had always traveled down multiple paths at the same time, but the solitude of banishment made it easier for him to jump between topics. Galahad now spent a great deal of time thinking about the “why” of everything around him. He no longer blindly accepted other people’s rules, traditions, or facts. He needed to figure it all out for himself.
“Do you think God made the universe or the universe made God?” He asked out of the blue, because it was a mystery he pondered a lot and it was the first thing that popped into his head as a conversation starter.
Trystan seemed confused by the non sequitur. “What?”
Galahad winced, because maybe it did sound like a weird question. “I just wonder about stuff.” He shrugged self-consciously and pushed at a pile of rocks, careful not to topple them.
Trystan was quiet for a beat. “I think the gods made many universes.” He finally said, like he’d thought it over and decided on an answer. “I think each universe then makes many gods, who all represent small parts of the whole.”
That was a peace offering.
“That’s a good theory.” Galahad shot him a beaming smile. “Thank you.”
Trystan grunted again, but it seemed less irritated than most of his grunts.
Galahad continued moving through the three-dimensional forest of stones. Each step he took brought him closer to something dangerous and primal. The deities of this place hadn’t been forgiving or kind. He could feel their malice seeping through the ground.
Trystan remained at the edge of the cairns, unaware that the evil grew towards the middle of the labyrinth. “You need to keep your hat on, knight.” He tilted his head to see around the stone monuments and idly monitored Galahad’s progress. “It’s why I acquired it for you. Your kind is not made for these temperatures.”
Had he lost his hat? Galahad reached up to touch the empty space above his hair. Shit. He’d lost his hat. He looked around, wondering where it had gone.
“It blew off that way,” Trystan gestured to the left, “several minutes ago. I was waiting for you to notice, but it seems clear that you’re incapable of caring for yourself.”
“You’re the only person in the world who believes that I’m incapable at anything.”
“Yes. I am used to being the sole voice of reason.”
Galahad sent a beseeching look towards the sky and headed towards the hat, winding through the graveyard of rocks. If felt like entering a cage, the pillars’ shapes twisted in unsettling ways. As he neared the center they began to look almost… alive.
“Do not go far.” Trystan called. “Get the hat and come out of there, so I can see you.”
“You know, I survived just fine through my whole banishment without your nagging. I wasn’t welcomed in any respectable kingdoms and still I did okay. Admit it. Not many people could have done
that. Especially since I wasn’t carrying a weapon.”
“Blind luck should not be mistaken for skill.”
“It wasn’t luck.” People always thought Galahad’s whole life was just lucky. He didn’t know why. Especially since he would’ve happily traded places with just about anyone. “I knew what I was doing. And when I didn’t…? Well, I’m pretty good at improvising.”
“Perhaps we should return to our theological debate. In my religion, the gods often allow hapless creatures to survive against insurmountable odds. They think it’s amusing.” Trystan sounded sardonic. “Your existence seems to validate my belief in their sense of humor, yes?”
“Or maybe I’m just not as helpless as you think I am. I’ve never failed at anything.” Except at being a Good man, and living a life of honor, and every other thing that mattered.
Trystan made an “um” sound of boredom and doubt. “Never failed at anything. Yet you cannot even keep a hat on your head.” He checked the sun, again. “I will eat, while I wait for you to fail… for the first time ever.” He climbed off his horse and began rooting around in the saddle bags. “Wilbur’s idea of supplies seems to be jerky, so dinner tonight will be jerky.”
“Is it vegan?”
Trystan’s head turned to stare at him through the rocks.
“I try to eat vegan, now.” Galahad explained. “Because I like animals and I want to live with them ethically in the world.”
Trystan kept staring.
“I can’t like animals, now?” Galahad challenged. “What? You don’t like animals?”
“I have respect for tigers.”
Galahad squinted slightly at that strange answer. “Right, well, I don’t like the idea of any animal suffering. I wrote a whole cookbook about veganism.” It had been on the Best Sellers List for four solid years. It occupied every slot, actually. All one-through-ten. Which was unusual, since it was only one book. They’d finally had to give his cookbook its own list, just to keep things fair for the other authors. “Do we have anything non-animal derived I could eat?”
“Of course. Would you prefer sand or rocks?”
Galahad’s smile faded at the sarcasm. “Forget it. I’ll just find my own food.”
“Where?” Trystan gestured to the emptiness around them. “They do not offer vegetarian menu options in the desert. You eat what is available or you starve. And I will not have Gwen blaming me for your wasting death, which means you will eat the goddamn jerky.”
The two of them eyed each other for a long moment.
“The jerky’s not made of tiger, is it?” Galahad finally asked.
“Lyrssa fucking save me.” Trystan went back to gathering up the supplies.
Galahad bent down to grab his hat, absently brushing the dust off it with his bound hands. Why did Trystan affect him so much deeper than anyone else? Why did it feel true with him, of all people? There were about a million other men, who wouldn’t be so difficult to deal with who he could… His thoughts abruptly stopped, his eyes falling on a mid-sized cairn.
Only it wasn’t a cairn. It was a person.
Galahad’s eyes widened, his head whipping around to look at the surrounding rocks. There were at least a dozen creatures all frozen in various poses. Some blissful. Some kneeling in prayer. Some screaming, their mouths forever wide. These weren’t statues carved by an artist. These were living beings turned to stone. Lawn ornaments for a god.
This wasn’t a temple. This was a tomb.
Galahad swallowed hard and edged towards the center of the rough circle their bodies made. A completely average cairn stood there. It was made of smooth river rocks, piled in a deceptively precarious tower. On its side there was a carving of a woman with snakes for hair.
That seemed like a very eerie, probably dangerous, clue.
Galahad laid his palm on the carving and pushed. Rather than collapse, the rocks moved together. Sliding sideways on their base, they revealed a hole large enough for a person. A long diagonal shaft had been built beneath them, right through the desert floor.
A tunnel.
Now he was getting somewhere. Galahad folded up the map and shoved it in his pocket. “Trys, I’ll be right back.” He called and started down the hole. It had been lined with mud-baked bricks, which hopefully wouldn’t collapse and crush him into paste. Positive thinking assured him everything would be okay.
“What?” Trystan sounded distracted. From his position, he couldn’t see Galahad.
“Eat without me. I found what I was looking for.”
“You did?” Trystan sounded surprised now, which was a little insulting. “Where?” There was a pause, like he’d suddenly realized that Galahad had completely disappeared from view. “Knight?” His voice grew sharper. “Where are you?”
“I’m okay.” Galahad shouted back. “I’ll be back before dark.”
Unless he died.
The tunnel was sloped at a steep angle, which was going to be hell to get back up again. It was wide, though. That was good. Galahad wasn’t claustrophobic, but the larger opening meant more light came in from above and illuminated his path. He half-slid down the passage, trying to keep himself from tumbling headfirst into the darkness at the bottom.
At the very end of the tunnel, a rock blocked his way. Galahad used his feet to push it, bracing his back against the wall for leverage. It slowly moved a few inches to the left, giving him just enough space to squeeze through. He tumbled headfirst onto the hard-packed ground, ineffectively trying to catch himself with his bound hands. Ouch. He reached up to finger his bruised forehead. That could’ve gone smoother.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Trystan bellowed from the mouth of the tunnel. He must have run through the whole maze of cairns to find where Galahad had gone. That was sweet. “Come back up here, before you get yourself killed!”
“As soon as I find something.” Galahad shouted back and his voice endlessly echoed around him. He was in a large chamber. There was some sunlight, coming in from far above, but it wasn’t providing much illumination. He should have brought a flashlight. He craned his head back into the hole and looked up towards the top. “Hey, Trys, do you have a flashlight?”
“Get the hell out of there.”
Galahad took that as a “no” to the flashlight. He waved a hand in front of his face, dispelling some of the particles floating around. The air felt gritty and thick in his lungs. It was much cooler, underground, though. So, that was a positive. Galahad always tried to see the positives.
This part of the tomb had been built into the sandbank overhead. It seemed like massive pillars had once supported the weight, but over the years, the roof had deteriorated in many spots. Now, streams of sand fell into the cavernous space. Sunlight poured through the holes, glinting off of the gently tumbling grains and making them look like molten gold.
It was lovely, in an ominous and completely unstable way.
Most of the pillars were in pieces on the ground, which meant the ceiling was being held up by… nothing. Galahad stared up at it, his eyes adjusting, impressed that it lasted this long. Even as he thought it, his attention fell on the twenty foot tall deity.
Holy shit…
Galahad moved farther into the room, entranced by the headless ivory statue situated in front of him. Whatever kind of beings built it, they hadn’t looked like him. He could tell that, even though the statue had been decapitated at the neck. The snakelike body proportions, and outstretched six- fingered hands, and the remnants of vivid orange paint on its skin all told him this creature wasn’t from any land he’d ever heard of.
Looking at it gave him chills.
The massive statue was such a perfect mixture of art and divinity that Galahad suddenly felt the malevolent sanctity of it. This is why so many people had come to build the piles of rocks outside as offerings. Because this place really did bring them close to something great and horrible. Something that was still lurking there. Waiting.
“I’m sorry about the cairns.” He
said out loud, gazing up at the headless god. It seemed like something was looking back. “I’m on a mission, though, and it will help people.”
The sense of being watched didn’t abate. If anything, it grew stronger. This god didn’t give a shit about helping. Whatever dwelled here was even darker than the darkness Galahad fought inside himself on a daily basis.
And was he crazy or was the rubble at his feet… body parts?
“Knight, if you aren’t already dead, you’re about to be.” Trystan had somehow fit his huge wings down the confines of the tunnel, but he couldn’t squeeze his way past the rock at the bottom. He pushed at it, but it was stuck tight. “What the hell are you doing…?” He managed to get part of his head into the main room and his eyes immediately fell on the statue. “Oh shit.”
Galahad barely heard him. He moved closer to the god, his attention on the cracked hunks of stone on the floor. They weren’t rocks. They were hands and legs and even heads, all solidified into granite and then shattered. There were weapons lying around, which seemed to indicate that some kind of battle had raged here. A battle against the god perhaps?
“Knight,” Trystan’s tone was now talking-someone-off-a-ledge calm, “this is a Bad place. Come away from it. Now.”
Galahad reached down to pick up a mirrored shield. It had words on it he couldn’t read along with the name “Medusa.” Wherever it had come from, it had been enspelled with some powerful magic. Energy made his palm tingle as he held it. A mummified corpse lay next to the shield, the only person here who hadn’t been turned to stone. He’d been crushed by a falling pillar and died trapped in place. But he’d won the fight. The shield had to be his.
Years of training allowed Galahad to recreate the battle in his head. These warriors had been attacked by the statue when they entered the tomb. Most had fallen, quickly turned to stone. But one had used the reflective shield to shine the deity’s magic back at her. That had destroyed the head of the statue, but also damaged the stability of the chamber and crushed the man in the debris. Had the warriors come to defeat Medusa? Was that what the god was called?
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 7