Protection and safety. It allowed her and Thorne to find its centre, to understand; whether she liked it or not, Eliza knew then that the maze had been born, not of any magic she knew, but of a magic created and honed by the Goddess herself.
That was why the Goddess Azula stood at its centre like a beacon.
It wasn’t until she understood its changing nature that it opened to her.
‘Ask,’ it seemed to whisper, accepting her into its magic hesitantly. ‘Ask and you shall receive.’
‘Did you help the assassins escape? Did you provide them with safe passage by use of underground tunnels?’ Eliza asked. She felt the magic of the maze pulling from her, could feel it reeling back, as if the questions were too personal, too hard for it to answer. ‘Please. You are the only being that can help.’
‘No witch has referred to me as a being. I am a thing. Not living.’
‘I don’t believe that.’ Eliza had seen it for herself, had seen and felt it move and reshape and reform. It had willingly guided her and Thorne through its brambles and thorns without any issue, like it had wanted them at the manor.
‘Please,’ she pleaded, ‘please help me, so that I can try and help you.’
The maze did not respond. Instead, Eliza felt the ground beneath her tremble, heard the crack and crumble of marble and stone. Somewhere in the distance, Thorne shouted, but it was drowned out by the clanging of swords and the furious images that sprang into Eliza’s mind.
~
The darkness was as thick as blood. It rolled over the forest like a wave of ink, smothering the stars. Nothing was spared as shadow soldiers crept through that thick blackness with their blades drawn, and evil magic protecting them.
Thunder struck blindly without the illumination of lightning, for the light of that, too, was choked out by the bleeding darkness. Natural magic shied away from the forbidden enchantments spilling over the estate.
The maze wept before it fell asleep.
In that darkness, even the faces of the fountain shifted to dread. Even the Goddess feared what would happen next.
They moved like shadows, the soldiers, bleeding through the darkness in droves. Guards who were blinded by the rain were caught unaware; blood soaked through the cobblestone and the grass, into the stones and over the marble staircase like a waterfall. Even the rain turned to blood.
The walls were scaled, the windows broken into. Any who met the shadow soldiers faced death. Their screams were drowned out by the rain, by the thunder that had nowhere to strike.
In the bedchambers, the queen awoke first. Dread twisted within her like a warning from the Goddess. She did not wake her husband, peacefully asleep after the stress of the day’s work.
She went to her son, her beautiful sleeping son. He usually did not sleep through the night.
The queen did not notice how the darkness stifled all the light, and she did not hear the wails of her servants and guards as they were slaughtered. She heard nothing, saw nothing, but her beautiful son.
The shadow soldiers found the infant asleep in his crib, ripe for the taking.
In the doorway, a young girl screamed. She screamed so others could escape. She screamed for her father, she screamed for the Goddess who could not save them.
They slit her throat and let her tumble to the ground. Her blood soaked their shoes, but they did not glance twice at her young face.
The youthful queen found them, found her daughter and her wide unseeing eyes. She said a prayer and with anger thrumming in her veins, she used what little magic she had to protect her son.
But she was not fast enough.
Soldiers slit her throat next, leaving her beside the crib.
One stowed the young prince in their cloaks, hiding him away from the enchanted weather. But he awoke and wailed. There were doors leading to a balcony in the nursery. A shadow flung them open and let the rain and wind fill the room. The reek of sulphur almost washed away the stench of death.
As the soldiers climbed out of the nursery, the king stumbled in. He wore no shoes, his bare feet quickly soaked with the blood of his young daughter.
He did not weep. He only stared.
The assassins took to the darkness, the infant wailing still.
The king could not save his wife or his daughter, not even his son, as darkness consumed his land and his heart.
The guards were dead, the servants slaughtered. The blood that drenched the assassins was quickly washed away by the rain.
With dark magic in their veins, the soldiers walked through the now sleeping maze. The old magic that had created it bowed to the dark magic they wielded. Darkness overcame light.
Death overcame hope.
The infant stopped wailing.
The Goddess who stood within the depths of the fountain wept tears of blood as the soldiers stepped into her water. With the magic they wielded, the soldiers became shadows, became night themselves, and disappeared beneath the water.
~
The visions died, the sound of the thundering rain nothing more than an echo in her ears. Night turned to day before her eyes, and if she squinted, she could almost see understanding in the white-marble eyes of the Goddess towering over her.
‘Thank you for showing me this,’ Eliza said at last, and pulled herself out of the ancient spell. She felt the magic glide over her like the caress of a mother, thankful and sad all at once.
Brushing herself off, Eliza stood on wobbly knees. “The shadow soldiers put the maze to sleep. Its magic is old—older than anything I’ve ever encountered, but it’s alive. It led us straight here.”
Thorne turned to her, the reins in his hands slackening. “And?” he asked, wary.
Eliza breathed in deeply. “And it showed me. It showed me how the soldiers got in, how they stole the prince.”
Thorne crossed his arms. “So, did it show you anything about this underground maze or tunnels?”
“Yes!” Eliza replied, smiling again. She pointed at the fountain. “That’s the way in. That is how the soldiers got out with the prince.”
Those storm-like eyes darkened, face twisting into dread. There was apprehension in his glare as he strode over to the marble fountain. Warily, he ran his fingers over the high rim before looking back at her. “How?”
“You step in and go down.”
Confusion clouded Thorne’s features for a moment before his eyes cleared. Almost like something had clicked, there seemed to be a new resolve about him that made Eliza giddy. “Alright. Get your things—whatever you might need down there. Rations, water, your spells, weapons. Get mine too. I’ll take the horses and hide them…”
With a simple nod, Eliza grabbed her bag and rifled through it, double-checking she had enough water and food to last them at least a week. She made sure her spell book was strapped to her side.
She just hoped that whatever they found down there would lead them in the right direction.
“Do you know anything about what’s down there?” Thorne asked as they stared into the water. Eliza wondered if he was searching for a physical doorway amongst the gently lapping waves.
She shook her head. “The maze didn’t show me anything about what might be underground.”
“And how did you know about any of this again?” She caught the hint of caution in his voice and glared at him with a deepening frown.
Without a response, she stepped onto the rim of the fountain’s base. Thorne followed, and held out his hand. Heart racing, Eliza took it, holding on tight and interlacing her fingers with his. A deep burn made its way up the base of her neck, and she tried not to look at him. “One of my guardians told me about the maze… a story about it anyway.”
Thorne grunted in response. “Ready?”
Am I? Eliza nodded, unable to respond.
Together, they stepped into the water. Eliza held her breath, feeling the water rise to her shins, then to her chest, and finally her neck. Magic danced over her skin like a phantom wind, crisp and refreshing, anc
ient and consuming. Despite the shallowness of the fountain, the water continued to rise, until finally it fully covered her, submerging her in darkness.
Eliza didn’t release her breath nor Thorne’s hand until she felt the magic of the fountain slipping away, until she could feel solid ground beneath her feet. As the water ebbed—and she was somehow not drenched—she finally opened her eyes.
Beside her, Thorne coughed. “What the…”
Releasing his hand, Eliza spun in a full circle, brows raised as she took in the entirety of the underground civilisation that surrounded them.
“You said tunnels,” Thorne said, spinning around as well.
Eliza shook her head. “I thought… I thought they were. Kay said… Holy shit.”
Like another realm in its own, the seemingly abandoned underground city looked untouched by the world above it. Directly in front of Eliza was another towering statue of Azula and her legendary dagger, this time accompanied by a raven on her shoulder, and her lover standing behind her other shoulder. At the foot of the statue were skeletons, cloth and skin still hanging to their bones, all surrounding Azula, stretching skeletal arms towards her.
Behind the statue lay a towering city complex; there were no windows in the frames—whether there had been originally, Eliza wasn’t sure. The buildings were made of white stone that had discoloured over the course of time.
Bodies of all shapes and sizes littered the ground, perhaps hundreds—thousands—of years old, each in a state of complete decay.
Were they worshippers? Eliza took in the out-stretched hands and upturned skulls.
She noticed there were other statues, too; of Azula, her dagger, the raven, and the Fae Knight, spread throughout the underground city. Everywhere she looked, there were more statues and bodies. A city so grand it couldn’t have been real.
At her side, Thorne said a short prayer. “This can’t be right,” he whispered.
“Do you think this is where the shadow soldiers have been this whole time?” Eliza asked, turning to the commander. She reached her hand out and summoned a ball of light, throwing it into the air to illuminate the rest of the city.
Thorne shook his head. “No. If they were, we’d probably already be dead.” He turned around again, though this time he no longer looked amazed at the city. This time, he turned slowly with a critical eye, searching the area for entrances and exits, tunnels that may have given the assassins a way out.
“So far we only know of one way in and one way out,” Thorne said, looking up at the portal. “But there are bound to be others. I can see three tunnels that branch out of this main cavern, which might mean three more portals.”
“Or three more cities.” Eliza frowned and shook her head, still perplexed by their finding. “Have you heard of any cities dedicated to Azula kept underground?”
Thorne shook his head. “No. I didn’t think she ever had any large-scale monuments either. The Goddess had temples and small statues and fountains, and the occasional tapestry. But nothing this big.”
Eliza looked around again, heart racing. “Why?” she asked, staring at the large statue, at the Goddess and her Fae lover, and the raven. “Why all this? Was there a secret cult following for her?” Her thoughts wandered back to the books, to the missing pages. It hadn’t been a coincidence, she realised, but that still didn’t answer the question of why.
“Possibly.” Thorne shrugged, pulling his sword from his sheath. He stared down at the hilt—at the raven carved into the pommel. “Don’t most Gods?”
Eliza stayed quiet, biting her lip. Ever since she’d seen that stupid raven and the Fae Knight in New Orleans, she kept finding references to Azula and making connections to the dead Goddess that couldn’t be possible. Everywhere she went, Azula was there. So, what did the Goddess have to do with anything? What was so important about her?
She stopped and cocked her head.
Holding her breath, Eliza listened for a moment, willing her heart to slow, to silence for a split-second to give her the chance to listen. In the distance, Eliza made out the sounds of beating wings.
Spinning around, Eliza spotted the gold irises of the raven, perched on a root that stuck out of one of the cavernous walls. It flapped its wings again and flew down an adjacent corridor.
“Shit.” Eliza ran after the Gods’ forsaken raven. She dodged skeletons and jumped over fallen columns, sprinting into the darkness of the tunnel where she could still hear the raven flying.
“Eliza!” She didn’t have the breath to reply, and instead threw her hands up to illuminate the tunnel, expelling the darkness that circled her.
Eliza came to a stop, her breaths rapid and her heart racing. Her legs ached, and she fell to her knees, confused and downright annoyed.
The raven was already gone.
Thorne came to a stop beside her and knelt, placing his hand on her shoulder. “What the hell was that?” he asked, forcing her to look at him.
“I think,” she said, pointing down the tunnel. “They went down here.”
“A feeling?” Thorne questioned, incredulous.
Eliza shook her head. “I think the Goddess is showing me the way.”
Thorne looked down the tunnel, at the darkness Eliza’s light could not penetrate. He then looked down and frowned at the footprints leading into the darkness.
“Those aren’t yours?” He pointed to the tracks in the dirt.
Eliza sucked in a breath. “No.” She shook her head. “The feet are too big. And look, there are multiple pairs.”
“These can’t be that old,” he murmured, touching them. “At least, not old enough to match any of the bodies back there. These have to be new.”
“So… that might be from the shadow soldiers. This could lead us to wherever the prince might be.” Excitement flooded through Eliza, filling her with a sudden giddiness. This is it! We might actually be able to find him!
Beside her, Thorne replied. “Maybe. He might not be there anymore.”
“Way to kill the mood,” Eliza said, frowning. “Either way, we have a better lead than anyone has ever had. I can actually get a better trace on him from here.”
Thorne shook his head and stood, taking a step back. “We should alert the king. Contact his trackers.”
“No!” Eliza stood and turned on him, shaking her head. “This is supposed to be my mission. The one entrusted to me. If he wanted his trackers doing the job, he would have asked for them.”
Eliza saw the war within Thorne. Like many, he’d been taught to take orders from the king and let him handle the tough decisions, especially concerning the fate of the kingdom. But here he was, entrusting this responsibility to a seventeen-year-old girl from another realm that the king had brought in to save his son.
But then she saw it; the indecision disappeared, like a light switch had been flicked. He trusted her.
But why?
“Fine,” he said, low enough that she had to step closer to hear him. “But if that’s the case, then everything stays between us. We can’t get anyone else involved.”
Eliza nodded her agreement. “I think someone on the inside, close to the king, knows about the soldiers and the kidnapping, and all of this. I don’t think we can trust anyone.”
Thorne smiled ruefully. “It may be true. We may not be able to trust anyone. Hell, I don’t even know why you chose to trust me.” The wariness in his smile almost stopped her; why had she trusted him?
She felt her cheeks heat and redden and was suddenly thankful for the darkness. “Because you could have been like everyone else, you could have dismissed me the first chance you saw me. But you didn’t.” She cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair. “And if you were against me, you wouldn’t have let me come here, or let me speak to Amitel. And I would know, too, if I couldn’t trust you.”
“Your feeling?” he asked, smirking.
“More or less,” she replied, shrugging. If she couldn’t trust him, she doubted the ghost of the little girl would
have let Eliza leave with Thorne, and she doubted him saving her life meant anything other than him being on her side.
Thorne stepped away from her and began walking back to the main cavern where their belongings were still at the portal. He gestured for her to follow. “If we’re fast, we can restock and come back here to follow that tunnel. We’re going to need more provisions though. We don’t know how far the tunnel goes.”
“You don’t think we have enough?” Eliza asked. She knew she had at least two full water skins, along with the one strapped to her hips. She also had dried meat wrapped in her bag, stale bread, and whatever fruits and nuts she could find. Eliza knew it wasn’t enough, but the itch to search and keep going made it hard for her to step away from the tunnel’s entrance.
Carefully, she looked between the commander and the tunnel, and that shred of hope that readily ignited in her. For the first time since starting this mission, she felt like she had a chance.
But she trusted Thorne and followed him back to the tunnel’s entrance with a smile on her face.
Hope, she thought. I must have hope.
13
TUNNEL OF TRUTH
“We should head straight into the tunnel and see where it leads us,” Thorne said, wrapping a rope around his torso. He handed the other end to Eliza, who begrudgingly tied it around herself, for the purpose of not losing each other in the darkness. “We’ll walk until we get tired and stop for a couple of hours. We won’t have any concept of night or day down here.”
Finishing the knot, Eliza shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good thing—at least we’ll find the end in no time.”
The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1) Page 14