Mitul put a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything all right?”
He blinked and nodded. “It’s getting late. We should make camp here.”
They did, and after they’d eaten, Mitul took out his saraj and played for them. Amar left his kanjira in his pack, unable to focus his attention on anything but that sliver of memory which had come and gone so quickly. He stared through the flickering campfire to where the edge of the bridge was visible in the dim light, replaying the man’s laughter over and over again in his head. Who was he, and why did the sound fill his heart with both pain and joy at the same time?
He ran a hand through his hair and tried to recall it again, but if there were any more pieces of the memory scattered through his mind, he couldn’t find them.
Mitul was playing a slow, sad tune now, the same one he’d played at the request of the audience back in Sharmok. It took on a more haunting quality here in the shadows of the Vihaara Forest, and Mitul’s low rendition of the chorus sent a shiver up Amar’s spine.
Where he has gone, none may follow.
When he will come home, none can say.
Sleep now little prince, no darkness to haunt you.
We await your noble return one day.
A noble return. It was a nice idea, something fit for songs and stories, but Amar didn’t expect anyone to be waiting for him in Shavhalla. He’d be lucky to find anything there at all.
Mitul continued to play even as the last embers of their campfire died away and the others all lay down to sleep. The song and the vague memory of the man’s laughter followed Amar into his dreams.
39
Amar
By the time they awoke the next morning, Lucian had scouted ahead to find a path that would take them north to the first ruins of Shavhalla. He led them up uneven stairs cut into rocky hillsides and over more woven bridges like the one at the river. They passed beneath similarly woven arches blooming with multicolored flowers, and the birdsong from the canopy above grew clearer and more melodious as they left the river’s rushing water. Brightly colored insects and other tiny creatures fluttered, crawled, and hopped across their path. They even saw a pair of small blue and gold dragons, who watched their passing from the branches of a tree with dark, curious eyes.
By late afternoon, Lucian was hurrying them on, eager to show them something he’d found while scouting their path in the night. “Come on. It’s not much farther now.”
“What is it?” Amar asked.
“You’ll see.” He darted through a gap and around a bend in the trees ahead. Amar had to twist his body sideways to squeeze through, but once he had, he saw it.
A twin set of statues were positioned on either side of a stone bridge. No water flowed beneath it, but there was a shallow depression in the ground where the river might have once been. The bridge was much wider than the others they’d seen, and the statues appeared to be identical. One had toppled onto its side and was now overgrown with moss and creeping vines. The other stood a few heads taller than Amar, depicting a being with the body of a woman and the head of a tiger. She cradled a blooming lotus flower in her hands, which had been delicately carved from a different kind of stone—some kind of pale crystal. Illuminated by Lucian’s flames, it gleamed against the gray and mossy green of the statue’s hands.
“The white lotus,” Lucian said proudly. “Like we saw in your memories.”
Mitul ran his fingers along one of the flower’s smooth petals. “We must be getting close.”
Amar stared up at the tiger’s face, again searching for something familiar. His thoughts were a spinning haze, unfocused and without direction. He felt like he was caught between the past and the present, like nothing around him was quite real, or maybe he wasn’t quite real. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, then followed Lucian and the others across the bridge.
When they reached the other side, the haze in his mind thickened, and more fragmented memories crept into his awareness. Voices. Smells. Colors and shapes. All of them too vague to grasp onto and sort out.
An eerie heaviness pressed against him, and he slowed, peering through the trees. All the warnings from Jameson’s research crowded his thoughts. Shavhalla was haunted and cursed. There were malevolent spirits here who would harm unwitting travelers. People who set out to explore the ancient city disappeared and were never heard from again.
His hand found his sword hilt before he was consciously aware of what he was doing.
“Something’s not right,” Saya hissed, stringing her bow and pulling an arrow from her quiver. She too searched their surroundings with wary, narrowed eyes.
“It’s quiet,” Mitul said softly. “Listen. The birds have stopped singing.”
Only then did Amar notice the uncanny silence around them. There was almost no sound at all, aside from their own voices. Even the rustle of leaves in the wind seemed to have quieted. A cool, misty fog hugged the ground and clung to the trees around them.
They could still turn back. Whatever awaited them in Shavhalla, maybe it wasn’t worth the risk.
But he didn’t really believe that. He’d been searching for so long, and now he was so close to finding real answers. Of course it was worth the risk.
“This way,” he said, and he led them on. The others followed without question.
A few paces ahead, the path leading from the bridge turned into a road, paved with stones meticulously cut and lain together, not unlike the cobblestone streets of Deveaural. How the road had remained clear of the forest’s overgrowth was a mystery, but it led on straight and true.
As they walked, silhouettes began to emerge from the gray green fog in front of them. Their vague shapes and shadows sharpened in the mist as they drew nearer, becoming the stone edges of what had once been proud buildings and beautiful sculptures. Now, blocks of stone and rotting wood lay in piles near half-collapsed homes and temples. Missing limbs and heads left the statues grotesquely disfigured, but some of their defects were masked by the vines snaking over their surface.
Far more chilling were the skeletons that lay scattered about the ruins, some still completely intact while others, like the statues, were missing important pieces. Pale skulls stared at them with fleshless grins and empty eye-sockets as they passed.
“What a dreary place,” Lucian said. His voice was grating in the silence. Amar couldn’t have agreed more, but he didn’t say it. All he could do was force himself to put one foot in front of the other, ignoring the growing unease that prickled against every nerve in his body. There was something unmistakably wrong about this place, even if he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Something to do with Shavhalla’s curse, no doubt, and maybe even his own.
They passed under an archway carved with intricate designs and came to a long disused fountain covered with flowering vines. The buildings were denser in this part of the ancient city, and less broken. There were more skeletons, too, most of them whole and clad in ragged but vibrant clothes and jewelry. A glimpse of what the place might have once been like flitted through Amar’s mind, and he could almost see the scene play out in front of him, full of life and color and sound. He wasn’t sure whether the image was part of a memory or merely something he’d imagined, but it was beautiful.
Twilight began to creep over their surroundings. The deepening shadows felt somehow thicker here than they had in other parts of the forest, as if the night were a suffocating blanket being pressed over them. Neither Kesari’s magical light nor Lucian’s glow seemed as bright as before, and they all clustered a little closer together as they continued on.
Amar stumbled over something in the road. He caught himself on his hands as he fell and looked down. His fingertips brushed the curves of a bony ribcage belonging to a skeleton lying on the ground. He yelped and jumped up, wiping his hands on his pants as he backed away from the human remains. Under other circumstances, Lucian or Mitul might have teased him about his panicked response, but no one was laughing at the situation now.
Mitul was already setting down his bag near the base of a tall statue that stood at the side of the road. “This is as good a place to rest as any.”
“Or as bad,” Lucian muttered.
“Shhh!” Saya hissed, pointing to something behind them. “Look.”
Amar followed her gesture, peering into the darkness down the road. Pale blue lights could be seen in the distance, with more appearing even as he stared.
“Where are they coming from?” Mitul asked.
“More importantly, what are they?” Amar said.
None of them had any answers for these questions, so they set about making camp and tried to pretend there was nothing strange about the mysterious lights. That became harder to do as new ones flickered to life every minute or so, each appearing a little closer than the last. Everyone shifted their belongings so they were sheltered behind the towering statue and watched the darkness carefully while they ate. The lights came closer, hovering in the air and bathing everything in an eerie blue glow, but there was still no way to tell what they might be or where they’d come from.
A sudden gust of wind tore at Amar’s clothes, followed by a longer, steady breeze that sounded like a sigh. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to see the legs of the nearby skeleton shifting on the other side of the statue. Some kind of animal disturbing the bones, probably.
Except they hadn’t seen or heard any animals since crossing the stone bridge.
He gripped his sword as he stood to investigate. Saya and Lucian went with him.
“What are you doing?” Mitul hissed.
Before he could answer, the skeleton rose up. He took a step back and raised his sword defensively in front of him. How was it moving? It should have been impossible. There was nothing to even hold the individual bones together, but there it stood, as tall and straight as a flesh-and-blood man. Blanched fingers straightened the ragged fabric of its tunic into place over bony shoulders. It didn’t so much as look at Amar and the others before sauntering off down the road with long, confident strides. Another skeletal figure joined it after a few paces, emerging into the blue light from some shadowed place in the trees.
Amar shivered, and Saya hissed a few words in Sularan under her breath. Lucian floated ahead, as if he were thinking of following the animated skeletons, but stopped. “They must have been here for centuries,” he mused. “That’s what all the legends say.”
“What about it?” Saya asked.
“How long do you think it takes a human skeleton to fully decompose?”
Amar didn’t know the answer, but he could tell what Lucian was getting at. The skeletons, their clothes and jewelry, even the ruins themselves—it was all remarkably well preserved for having been abandoned for centuries. Maybe that was part of whatever curse had befallen Shavhalla.
Kesari and Mitul crept forward to stand beside them, and more skeletons passed by as they all stood there watching the road. A pair of children wearing dried flower crowns and necklaces chased each other with mouths open in silent laughter, followed by a person pulling a rickety wood cart with rotted sides. A headless skeleton in a flowing dress stirred a vague sense of recognition in Amar’s mind, and he got the impression that it wasn’t because he’d already seen the lifeless bones and their gown on the journey here.
Sometimes the blue lights trailed after the skeletons or danced around them, causing their shadows to morph in bizarre shapes. Before long, even stranger companions joined the parade. The statues scattered throughout so much of Shavhalla came to life, walking amongst the trees with surprising grace and quiet steps. Even the great statue near their camp eventually stirred and followed the procession. The blue lights hovering near its head revealed a dog-faced man with four muscular human arms, each wielding a stone dagger. He paid them no mind as he passed, but Saya had to make a quick sidestep to avoid being crushed beneath his foot.
They watched the strange scene for what felt like hours. Some of the skeletons and statues lingered in their general vicinity, gathering in pairs and small groups with gestures that suggested speech, though they were voiceless aside from the faint whispers of the wind through their teeth. Others walked in and out of the ruins of buildings, as if they were ordinary people going about their ordinary business. They congregated within the last vestiges of what might have once been a temple and knelt as if to pray. They stood in the remains of market stalls and bartered for goods that only they could see. Two of them patrolled the streets with swords at their sides and metal armor glinting in the cold blue light. A statue of a winged tiger prowled after them. They passed within a few paces of where Amar and the others stood, but like the rest, paid them no mind.
“Should we stay here?” Kesari asked hesitantly. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“If they were going to hurt us, they could have done it already,” Saya replied. “I don’t think they even know we’re here.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed as he watched the passing guards. “Who’s to say that can’t change at any moment?”
“I’m not going back,” Amar said resolutely. He didn’t know if they were entirely safe in what was turning out to be a city more haunted and cursed than any legend could have prepared them for. If the others wanted to leave, that was their choice. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn back now, no matter what the danger might be. The magic of this place called his name as loud and clear as any audible voice. He could feel it, all the way down to his very bones. It was a call he had to heed.
Mitul placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re staying, so am I.”
Saya gave him a nod, her eyes hard and fearless.
“We all are,” Kesari agreed.
“I’ll keep watch,” Lucian said. “Make sure our enchanted friends stay friendly. I’ll let you know if they become a threat.”
They returned to their camp, and despite the uneasy tension that had settled over him, Amar couldn’t help smiling to himself as he lay down beside his friends to sleep. As strange and unnerving as Shavhalla had been so far, it was exactly where he needed to be. They’d come to the right place. Finally, after all these years, the answers he’d been seeking were within his reach.
40
Aleida
Aleida was beginning to hate the Vihaara Forest.
Farther inland, in the western part of Kavora where she’d begun this chase, it hadn’t been so bad, but here the trees seemed to close in around her like an impenetrable green prison. Her clothing hung heavy against her skin with sweat and the air’s humidity. Unknown creatures wriggled and scurried in the shadows, and every few minutes, she swore she could feel something crawling over her skin. Once there really was something there—a great ugly spider with long, furry legs. She yelped and swatted it away, much to Jameson’s amusement, but he reacted with even less decorum when a snake slithered out from under his pack the next morning.
If anything, he was even more miserable in the forest than Aleida was, and he didn’t hesitate to let her know it. It was more tiresome to tell him to shut up than it was to ignore him, which was her newest tactic, but even that wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped it would. Jameson’s whining voice grated on her nerves with every step. She had half a mind to leave him here to find his way back to Deveaural on his own, but Valkyra insisted they keep him close. Who knew what he might decide to do to them once he got his magic back? And besides, he’d proven useful already. Without him, they would have been wandering aimlessly. He was the only one among them who knew how and where to find Shavhalla.
Of course, that also meant he could be lying to them, leading them around in circles wherever he pleased. But Aleida had made clear to him the terrible fate that might befall him should he misguide her, and he seemed genuinely fearful of her threats.
They were fifteen days into their journey upriver when Jameson stopped and pointed triumphantl
y to something through the trees. “See! That’s it. There’s one of the bridges I was telling you about. We’re close now.”
Night had already settled over the forest, and it was difficult to see what he was pointing to. Aleida expanded the glowing orb of light in her hand and sent it floating ahead several paces.
“There!” he grabbed her arm. “Do you see it?”
She shot him a glare but halted the light’s movement and tried to see what he was so excited about. There wasn’t any bridge, just a cluster of roots and branches tangled together at the edge of the river. She took a few more paces forward and squinted.
The roots and branches were the bridge. They’d been woven together in intricate knots, extending from this side of the riverbank all the way to the other. It was barely wide enough for two people to cross alongside each other.
She walked up to its edge. “It doesn’t look very sturdy.” She took a tentative step onto it and hopped a little to test its weight. It didn’t so much as bend beneath her feet. Even when Jameson stood beside her, it held firm.
“It must have been made with magic,” he said, kneeling down to study the bridge’s weaving. “At least partially. A little altma would have helped with the growth of these plants, too.”
“I don’t care how it was made, so long as it leads us to Amar.” She grabbed the back of his robes and tugged until he stood up. “Let’s go. We can make camp on the other side.”
“I’ll go catch us some dinner,” Valkyra said. She leapt from Aleida’s shoulder and flew out over the river, where she was quickly swallowed up in the shadows.
Aleida and Jameson crossed the bridge to the opposite bank. Once there, the Tarja inspected the ground before sitting down. Aleida started looking for firewood, but she hadn’t gone far when she spotted a circle of rocks near the beginnings of an overgrown path. The center of the circle was charred and black, covered with only a few of the fallen leaves that were strewn across the entire forest floor.
Tethered Spirits Page 34