Wayfarer's Keep

by T. A. White

  Statues of long forgotten people appeared on the mountainsides, their giant forms bursting from the stone as if they’d crawled up from the ground itself. Their somber eyes and grim expressions forever watching as the world fell into chaos around them.

  The mountains of staring eyes—named for these statues and countless others that perched on the mountain tops, carved by some long ago hand for reasons known only to them. Some were as tall as the mountains themselves, others were smaller icons perched on the peaks. All stared down at the world below in judgement.

  A gate arched between two of the largest statues, behind it ran a narrow corridor framed on both sides by sheer cliffs, impossibly steep and dangerous.

  “Brings back old memories, doesn’t it? Discovering something new, seeing a place most are too afraid to explore,” Griffin said with a conspiring look aimed in her direction

  Shea tucked her chin but didn’t respond. Griffin had tried to engage her several times in the last few days as they worked their way toward the heart of the Badlands. Sometimes he was persuasive, displaying that boyish charm she’d once found so attractive. Othertimes, he was angry and accusing, blaming her for everything from his failure at becoming a pathfinder to his current transformation.

  His emotions fluctuated between extremes like a dizzying, spinning top. It was a struggle to keep up. He never hurt her, but the mythological wasn’t so lucky. He seemed to be a favorite target when Griffin was in one of his moods.

  Shea didn’t enjoy being the reason for another’s pain, so she was even more silent than normal.

  “Come, lover, I’m eager to show you my land,” Griffin said before heading for the gate, the beasts trailing behind him.

  Shea stayed stuck in place, unwilling to follow. If the first demarcation was the marker that signified where the Badlands really began, she couldn’t even imagine how bad things would get after the second demarcation.

  “Is there another way through?” Shea asked Ajari as he hesitated by her side, showing no more enthusiasm for the coming journey than she.

  “There are traversable passes. I don’t recommend them, however. There are creatures who wait there who are a challenge even for me,” he said.

  She kept the dismay she felt at those words to herself. If Trenton or Buck were following her, the gate would make their task that much harder. All Griffin needed to do was place a beast on the other side to hide in wait. The moment they killed it, he would know they were being followed.

  Ajari turned and surveyed their backtrail, his thoughts seeming to mirror Shea’s.

  She waited for his question, wondering if he’d ask her about possible pursuers. She didn’t know how she planned to answer him. He’d shown himself an unwilling ally, but it was impossible to guess how far that goodwill extended.

  If it came down to his life or theirs, would he choose to protect her secrets or give them up? Giving him plausible deniability seemed like the best bet for now.

  His gaze was thoughtful as it met hers. Silence stretched between them before he prodded her forward. “Come. He’ll get impatient before too much longer.”

  *

  Shea stumbled forward for the third time. Her legs quivered as she fought to keep up with the rest. They had passed the gate three days ago, leaving its narrow corridor behind as they faced a mesa with strange formations growing from the ground.

  It was a surreal landscape, dreamlike and odd. Shea had never seen anything like it.

  The sand created strange patterns in an array of colors ranging from almost pastel to bright, vivid ones that rivaled any field of flowers Shea had ever seen. There appeared to be pools of water interspersed in the patterns, their depths the most vivid aqua Shea had ever seen. From each of these pools rose a formation that looked like a cross between a rock and a plant.

  That was on one side of her, on the other was what Shea termed a graveyard, its inhabitants half-submerged in the pools, while others appeared as long rows of rectangular forms partially thrust up out of the land. They’d been metal once, Shea was willing to guess, but had rusted in the long centuries since they’d last found use. There was a countless number of them, all discarded like toys no one wanted to play with anymore.

  The metal seemed to have contaminated the surroundings, creating large dead spots marked by plumes of red around them.

  Shea looked down at her feet, noting that the route they walked was the same red color, stretching in a long line in front of her. A mountain range loomed in the distance, bumpy rolling hills before them.

  Several yards to the side, there was another path of red, broken and disrupted though it might be. The beasts had decided to use it, making a game of hopping from one red spot to another.

  Shea looked at the mythological where he stalked in front of her. He wore a loincloth but not much else, his arms and chest left bare to the pale sun. His body was powerful, muscular and defined.

  Her gaze lingered on his back where two long scars skated vertically across his shoulder blades. Shea had a sick feeling he’d once had wings. Those scars were all that remained. Someone had cut them off, and recently too. The scar tissue was still shiny and new.

  It confirmed her suspicions. He was the same species as Covath. Being sent here made more and more sense.

  Shea tripped, her feet tired and clumsy. She staggered sideways and would have fallen headfirst into the pastel sand that bordered their red path, if the mythological’s hand hadn’t shot out, yanking her back.

  “Careful, little mouse. You venture into that and no one will be able to save you,” he cautioned in a mild voice.

  Shea murmured a thank you and edged back to the middle of the red path. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Everything took more effort than it should have. It drained her willpower to keep moving forward, when all she really wanted was to curl into a ball and rest.

  For someone who’d spent their life testing their body on the most rugged terrain they could find, from mountains so high nothing but snow existed at the top, where the air was so thin, each gasp felt like your last, to ridges and valleys there were challenging to navigate, it was incomprehensible to have her body fail her now.

  Her legs quivered with exhaustion and a faint pain told her she had pushed past the point that was wise. Her thoughts felt oily and slippery, hard to hold onto. It felt like she’d been on the trail for months instead of days.

  The ground was relatively flat and the going easy. She shouldn’t be having any trouble.

  As she trudged forward, one of the beasts made an awkward leap. The ground beneath it gave way. It trumpeted an alarm as it landed in the sand, sinking into it up to its knees.

  The grindle’s eyes rolled with panic as it started to thrash. Shea watched tiredly, not understanding.

  Pitiful, pain-filled sounds filled the air as it fought to escape, only sinking deeper as it did. The sand shifted as if alive, strands lifting to wrap around the beast like a vine.

  The grindle’s struggles became more pronounced, breaking free of several of the tentacles. Great patches of fur and skin were missing from where the tentacles had touched.

  The tentacles of the pastel colored sand reformed, reaching up and wrapping around the beast once again. Gradually, the beast’s struggles weakened as it sank ever deeper.

  Ajari prodded her forward before it had even disappeared under the sand’s depths. “As I said, no one would be able to save you.”

  Shea looked back, her eyes wide as the beast trumpeted a final time before slipping fully under the sand.

  She turned back around, seeing the pretty colors and odd formations around her with new eyes. The pretty, surreal scenery hid a deadly secret beneath it. Suddenly, the red path didn’t seem as safe as it once had.

  “What is this place?” Shea asked quietly.

  “The painted sands and the graveyard of forgotten things,” Ajari responded, not looking back at her.

  “Long name,” Shea said.r />
  He made a sound of agreement but didn’t look back or add an explanation. Shea assumed that was all she was going to get. That was fine. Talking and walking were getting harder.

  It wasn’t long before she tripped again, falling to her knees and hands.

  “Get up,” the mythological ordered.

  She would. She just needed a moment.

  She lifted her head, noting Griffin seemed perfectly fine, as fresh and spry as he’d been that morning.

  “Why am I so tired?” Shea asked Ajari, trying to slow her breathing.

  “Humans have trouble this close to the heart,” he replied.

  “So why isn’t he in the same shape?” Shea asked, nodding to Griffin.

  The mythological’s face turned stony. “He’s partaken of the Badlands. The heart doesn’t have the same effect on him as it does the rest of your puny race.”

  “Or you it seems,” Shea said, her breath finally slowing.

  He gave her a humorless grin revealing a mouth full of very sharp teeth. “I was created from the Badlands’ bones. Of course, it doesn’t affect me.”

  Guess that made sense. If the whole bit about the seal was true, it meant they’d been locked up near this heart for centuries. They would have adapted or died out in that time.

  “Is it the water?” Shea asked. She had to know. Her reserves were getting low since she’d dumped most of it to try to create the mud that would help hide her father’s blood. She only had a few gulps left.

  His face turned stony and he grabbed her arm, not answering as he forced her to her feet.

  Guess they were done with their conversation.

  Shea braced herself and then resumed her trudge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Shea hit the ground with a thud. She was done. Everything in her hurt. It was hard to hold on to the reason she was fighting—why this was so important. Hope was beginning to fade, along with the belief she’d somehow come out of this ahead, that she’d accomplish what she’d set out to do.

  Her lips were cracked, her eyes puffy and swollen. Swallowing hurt. It felt like her throat had sand caught in it, every bit of moisture gone.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Griffin asked in an irritated voice.

  “The heart is having a negative effect on her body,” Ajari answered carefully.

  The ground vibrated under Shea as Griffin came closer. Her eyes cracked open. He leaned over her, his necklace dangling just out of reach. She tried to summon the energy to reach for it. If she could just grab it, this could all be over.

  Her arms refused to obey, her eyes sliding shut, veiling his frowning face.

  He let out an irritated sigh. “This is no good. She’ll never make it like this.”

  Well, at least her weakness was screwing up someone else’s plans, she thought with a dry chuckle.

  After that things got a little discombobulated, as Shea drifted in and out of consciousness and hallucinations. She was vaguely aware of strong arms picking her up before being thrown over a sturdy shoulder.

  “Stupid little mouse, how do you expect to free anybody when you can’t even take care of yourself?” Ajari muttered, or perhaps that was part of Shea’s hallucination.

  She came back to herself, the taste of cool, refreshing water sliding down her throat. It tasted better than anything she’d ever experienced.

  She sputtered, almost choking as she pushed the liquid away from her. The mythological stared down at her with a hard expression as she forced herself upright, horror in her eyes.

  “What did you do?” she asked, despair in her voice.

  If Griffin had changed so much by simply ingesting the water or food, she feared what ways she could be twisted too.

  “You were never going to make it in your current state,” Ajari told her.

  “And now I’ll never go home,” she said in despair, resisting the urge to take some of her fear out on him. Lashing out wasn’t going to help anything, not now that the damage was done.

  Already she felt marginally better. Clear-headed and alert in a way she hadn’t felt in days. Her body still dragged but at least she thought she could move again.

  “Don’t be melodramatic. This tiny bit won’t change you too much,” he said.

  Too much. So, it would have some effect on her.

  The look she sent Ajari’s way was significant. “Your words are less than reassuring.”

  The mythological seemed unconcerned. “He drank directly from the heart. It’s a thousand times more potent than the water I gave you. Even if you were to drink from the heart, who you are influences what you become. Your friend’s heart is as black as night. It makes sense that his exterior has changed to match it.”

  Shea lifted herself up, pushing herself to standing. “No offense, but it’s hard to take your word for it. Everything I’ve seen come out of the Badlands has been a predator. Not evil, but not exactly something I’d trust around my people.”

  He gave her a very human look of amusement. “And do you think that your kind has seen everything this place holds? Just because something is dangerous doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful. Such arrogance is to be expected of humans, I suppose.”

  Shea’s lips tightened, keeping back her argument.

  He leaned closer. “Think on this. Your people have the abilities they do because of this place. The first of your lines drank of it to gain the precious gift of traversing the mist, hoping that same gift would live on in their issue. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so eager to cast it as the monster.”

  Shea’s lips parted as her eyes widened. She didn’t know how much of that to believe. If true, it could change much of their thinking at the Keep.

  She drew back, conceding that he had a point about her knee-jerk reaction. Her fear had made her little better than the villagers she used to look down on.

  Beasts weren’t bad, nor were they good. That was a human concept. Most beasts lived their entire lives without crossing another human, doing what they needed to do to survive. She’d observed them in their natural habitat, gloried in their awesome power, and admired their majesty. Vilifying them just because they tended to cause widescale damage when confronted with humans was like saying a river was evil because it could flood and sweep clean everything in its path.

  The mythological didn’t give her time to apologize. He climbed to his feet and moved away from her, his task done.

  “Lord, I’m going to go survey our backtrail,” Ajari told Griffin.

  “Why?” Griffin cocked his head.

  “I don’t want any further surprises.” Ajari gave Shea a sidelong look. “I grow weary of watching mice twist themselves into knots over silly things.”

  Griffin’s gaze slid toward Shea and he got a knowing look on his face. “It is hard to resist bloodying up all that pale flesh. Very well, don’t be too long.”

  Ajari gave a short bow, moving off and disappearing in moments.

  Shea wrapped her arms around herself, watching the two beasts and Griffin, as her only ally deserted her, leaving her to face the enemy alone.

  *

  Shea padded over silky sand, calves and thighs burning. Any vegetation had long since died, leaving nothing but rock and endless sand. This was the fine, powdery stuff from her dreams.

  In the distance a large dust cloud lunged into the air. It would be cause for concern if it hadn’t seemed so far off for the moment, moving away from them instead of towards.

  Though the water the mythological had forced her to drink had worked wonders, this close to the heart she was beginning to feel its effects again, although not as bad as before.

  Their destination seemed to be a giant butte in the distance. It jutted up from the long, wide bowl they’d found themselves in. It was tall, three tower-shaped objects next to it, the center one spiraling up to stab the sky’s underbelly. The ground surrounding it sloped up to meet its base.

  The closer they drew to the monolith, th
e more giddy Griffin became, his speed picking up until they were nearly running. A giggle floated back to Shea as he clasped the necklace at his neck again.

  She condemned herself again for not grabbing it earlier. Yes, she’d seen no sign of the Lux since her capture, the primary reason for this fool’s errand, but he had to have it on him. There was no other option.

  Despite its deceptively close appearance, it took hours to reach the base of the butte, the storm in the distance keeping pace with them as it moved slowly away.

  As they walked, Shea was grateful for the butte’s shadow as it shielded them from the sun. What there was of it. The sky above was a drab brown which Shea couldn’t explain, since there were few clouds above her, but it seemed as if there was a slight haze stealing even the faintest hint of blue.

  Once they reached the base of the butte, Griffin’s excitement doubled in direct contrast to Shea’s flagging spirits.

  “This is it. This is the heart,” he said in an excited voice.

  The mythological looked up at the formation, an uneasy expression on his face as Griffin circled away from them, examining the base of the butte carefully. Shea thought she saw an undercurrent of fear. It didn’t make her feel any better about this whole thing.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I thought never to return to this place,” he said, seeming uneasy. His attention focused to their right, on a pile of rubble not far from the butte.

  Shea looked back at the butte, noting the tower-like protrusions and a spot halfway up that showed fresh scars. The rubble seemed to be made of the same substance. She had to wonder if it had once been part of the main formation.

  “If the same seal that released your people released the heart as well, what’s keeping this ‘father’ trapped here?” Shea asked.