Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2)

by Jennifer Melzer

  “Did they say anything else to you, my lady?”

  “Only that the gods won’t aid me. They have their own agendas and will attempt to steer me from my path because there is power within me to rival even the oldest among them. He called me the Light of His Light.”

  “Leth‘ein Heilethella.”

  “Come again?” Finn rolled a critical stare over his shoulder.

  “Leth’ein Heilethella,” he said more clearly. “It is Alvarii. It means Light of His Light.”

  “Light of Madra, Light of His Light. Apparently, you’re meant to illuminate the whole damn world, Princess. Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save us all. With light.”

  “The Light of Madra is what the U’lfer of Dunvarak call her because she is a woman. She never told them that was her name, she simply held out her hand and drew them from death. The silver light brighter than the moon who saved us all from the darkness. But there are stories told by the Alvarii about the All-Creator, stories my mother told me when I was a boy.”

  Edging a little closer to him, Lorelei’s bright amber eyes disappeared behind her lashes when she blinked and asked, “What kind of stories?”

  “They say in order to understand the world He created, Heidr used to take on earthly bodies and walk among us. He was there during all the dark moments of this world, silent witness to our depravity.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Finn spun back inward and held up his hand as if to ward off further words. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Wouldn’t it make sense if we take into consideration the things we learned from Gwendoliir? Why else would Heidr want Rognar’s unborn child?”

  “First of all, there’s nothing silent about her, and secondly, I’m the first person to chime in and say the princess is more than just a little bit swell, but that’s going too far, don’t you think?”

  “The last thing my father said to me was, ‘You are all.’” Her voice sounded hollow and taut, disbelief carving through the words hanging between them all for what felt like an eternity.

  It was Finn who finally broke that eerie silence. After shaking his head and stroking fingers through the beard shading his chin, he said, “It still feels like a trap.”

  It was an odd thing to find himself in agreement with the U’lfer, but he couldn’t help it. There had to be something they were missing. It was too simple, and he didn’t want to trust it, but Lorelei seemed to have made up her mind.

  “And hiking up the path that made you nearly wet your trousers is a good idea?”

  “I did not nearly wet my trousers,” he shot back. “I wasn’t even wearing trousers at the time, thank you very much!”

  “The time for joking has passed, Finn.”

  “So what do we do?” he shot back. “Do we leap at this mysterious passage Lorelei’s dead parents showed her, or do we take the obvious path I found last night?”

  “I don’t know that I like either of our options, to be honest.”

  “The two of you can do what you like,” she decided, straightening her legs in front of her and scrambling to her feet. She dusted the dirt from her backside with her hands and then brushed them off in front of her. “I don’t know what any of it means, if I’m some kind of embodiment of a god, or just a girl with the weight of this ridiculous world on her shoulders, but my parents went to a great deal of trouble to show me that path. I’m going to take it.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to break camp and ride to this passage they showed you. I’d like to at least take a look before I make a decision.”

  “Fine.” Shrugging, she started kicking dirt over the fire. “Let’s go have another look.”

  The three of them were silent while they tore down camp and packed their horses. They rode in the direction she’d been led by dark entities no one could explain. Brendolowyn worried she wouldn’t be able to relocate the hidden passage, but Finn edge out in front of them, following Lorelei’s scent even though she insisted she could find her way back to that place with her eyes closed.

  It was mid-morning by the time they arrived at a crumbling passage near the base of the mountain, well-hidden by prickly, dry overgrowth. Without warning she hopped down, startling her mare with the sudden and unexpected movement.

  She took only a second to calm the beast, then turned care over to Finn before treading along the moss-carpeted stone to reach the mountain. Far enough away she would hear little more than the mutter of their voices, Bren spurred his mount forward, drawing to a halt beside Finn and asking, “This is where you found her?”

  He nodded without looking over his shoulder at the mage. “Just a few feet from where she stands now.”

  “What was she doing, exactly?”

  “I have no idea,” he confessed. “Standing there, as though she were in a trance or something. She came awake with a start when I touched her, as if she’d been sleeping.”

  Speculating, he nodded slowly and then asked, “There was nothing else here? No strange energy present? Say the lingering essence of magic still clinging to the air around her?”

  “How should I know? I don’t know a damn thing about magic.” Finn turned his head down a little as he shook it, watching Lorelei scramble across the stone, in search of what, neither of them could guess. “I guess there was… something. Something off, something strange. It didn’t feel like magic.”

  “No?”

  “It felt like… U’lfer,” he said. “Faint, like a memory you can’t quite grab onto, but it was there. For the briefest moment, I felt like I was among my own people.”

  “That is strange.” Squinting in the harsh silver light of the sun streaming through the thick clouds overhead, Bren thought he heard the distant rumble of thunder and turned his head in its direction. Somewhere on the other side of the mountain, the sea battered at the cliffs. “What do you think it was then?”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “A memory. Our fathers came to this place years and years before the War of Silence to search for the Horns of Llorveth, though for what purpose I’ve no idea. My brother and I never heard the story of Llorveth and Madra before we came to Dunvarak. We only knew there was a battle between Llorveth and Foreln and our god lost his horns. The U’lfer believed they could change their circumstances if they found those horns, maybe Llorveth would hear us again.”

  Brendolowyn returned his gaze to Lorelei, who was waving to them from across moss-colored stone and patchy, yellowed grass, calling out for them to come and see what she’d found. By the time they tethered the horses and joined her, she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement lighting up her face and reddening her cheeks.

  “See,” she pointed to the near-smooth stone. “There it is. Right where I remember it.”

  “What?” Finn leaned inward, eyes scanning the rock around the place the tip of her finger was pointing. “What am I looking for?”

  It glinted, only briefly, but enough to catch Brendolowyn’s eye. Fading magic he could only just feel the ebb and flow of, he pushed forward. Edging past Finn, he knelt down on the carpet of moss and studied the symbol carved into the stone. The ancient Dvergr magic that once sustained it would have acted as a beacon to brothers coming from afar to the aid those who dwelt within the belly of Great Sorrow. It was subtle, fading and he guessed it had been centuries since it had actually been seen by living eyes.

  Casting only the barest glimmer of its essence, Brendolowyn realized Finn probably wouldn’t be able to see it because he lacked any type of magical affiliation whatsoever. He wasn’t surprised, however, that Lorelei found it easily. There was far more to her than they could have ever dreamed, an apparent fact that could no longer be denied. He traced his finger over the nine-pointed star and the smooth rune carved in the center. He felt the faintness of its magic moving through him and shuddered as it warmed him and then flickered out again.

  “What is it?”

  “It is as she says,” Bren told him, rocking back on his
heels and withdrawing his hand. He could still feel the barest hint of ancient magic tingling through him, even though it disappeared before he’d even withdrawn his hand. “This symbol marks another passage into Great Sorrow.”

  “It would only make sense for there to be another way into the mountain,” Lorelei added, uncertainly asking, “wouldn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed. “The main entrance would have been well-guarded and protected by all manner of magic known to the Dvergr, but magic is not infallible. If they faced an enemy proficient in its conjurations...” The words dwindled on his lips, the warm exhale of his breath casting the faintest, hoary puff through the chilly air that quickly dissipated. “They would have no-doubt created several passages in and out of the mountain in case they needed reinforcements or another means of escape if things went badly and the mountain was lost. Of course I highly doubt such passages would have been marked on any maps we possess. They would have been kept secret, passed from one brother to the next, perhaps only in a verbal or shared memory capacity. Closely guarded, they would have been kept hidden from anyone who might wish to penetrate their fortress beyond the stone.”

  “If the drakoren doesn’t know about this passage…” Lorelei started, her voice trailing into the soft wind as she contemplated.

  “It could still be a trap,” Finn proffered.

  “It could be,” Brendolowyn agreed. “But I’m beginning to think not.”

  “The passage you found,” Lorelei turned to Finn. “You said it was obvious, the dark magic there. That you could feel it before you even got near the mountain and it only grew stronger the closer you came.”

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  She looked to Brendolowyn, as if somehow confirming what she thought should be obvious to them all. “I feel nothing.” And then as if she felt the need to correct herself, she added, “Nothing but drawn to this path. Did you feel drawn in?”

  “Sort of, but against my will.”

  “This doesn’t feel like that at all. There’s nothing… threatening here.”

  “No,” Bren agreed. “There isn’t.”

  The mage still didn’t trust the path. It felt… too easy. Lifting his gaze, the stone jutted dangerously, inclining at the most uninviting angles. For a moment his assessment of too easy was laughable. Such a passage would no doubt be fraught with treacherous and narrow paths upon which footing would be difficult to maintain, one false step could send them tumbling down the rock face to their death. Turning his eyes upward, he attempted to follow the craggy and uneven flow and knew instantly they would be forced to leave their horses behind. The passage was too thin and steep.

  “We will have to go it alone if we decide to take this passage,” he noted. “It looks downright treacherous, so narrow in some places the horses will never make it.”

  “Well, it would be cruel to tether them. There’s no telling how long we will be away from them and they’d be defenseless,” Finn pointed out, feeling smug and proud of his assessment. “And we can’t just set them free. Hodon would never forgive us, and besides, how would we get back?”

  “We would have to walk back to Dunvarak if the horses are lost,” Lorelei said, and though she shrugged a little when she spoke, there was guilt in her tone. “And besides, if we take the other passage, who’s to say we will be able to ride the full way? We could get halfway up the mountain and have to send them back down.”

  He hated to admit she was right. Taking that path made him far more nervous than he already felt about the end-result of their journey in the first place. Magic he could feel could be protected against. Whatever awaited them on this new passage, he wasn’t so sure.

  “So we take whatever we can carry, leave the horses here and hope they are at least close by when we come off the mountain.”

  “If we come off the mountain,” Finn muttered so quietly Lorelei didn’t hear him, but Brendolowyn did. The two exchanged momentary glances, an unspoken promise on Bren’s part that Finn, at least, would be coming back with her.

  They debated a little while longer, trying to work out the details, but Lorelei could not be budged from her decision. In the end, she reminded them it was her quest and the two of them were only along to protect her. With that settled they took what they could carry from the horses, said their farewells to the beasts and began hiking the narrow and treacherous passage scaling the mountain.

  That passage was not made for the resting warrior. It was designed, they soon discovered, to encourage fast-paced movement up the mountainside.

  It was the first time in days Bren was not required to use his magic to keep them hidden, and though it was a relief, the energy inside him restoring close to its full-strength, it felt strange not protecting them as they scaled the mountain. There were any number of protective charms he could have employed, old spells he could have called to mind to maintain their footing, to protect them from injury should they fall, but he did nothing. Only climbed.

  He fretted constantly he would live to regret relaxing his magic, but mid-morning passed into afternoon without any serious injury, and they were fortunate enough to find a narrow passage upon which to rest their backs against the stone and replenish their energy with a small bite to eat.

  No one spoke. Finn didn’t even seem to possess the energy to argue with Lorelei, as he was prone to do, and in the short time Bren had known her, he’d never seen Lorelei more driven to get to their destination. It was as if something inside her snapped, and the only thing left was to get to the mountain, hunt down the drakoren and get it all over with so they could either get on with their lives, or not. They had bigger wyrms to slay, or so to speak.

  He wished her ambition would rub off on him, but the physical exertion coupled with how little he’d slept over the last few weeks exhausted him. He could feel the ache in his bones, pressing down hard on his soul again when she was finished sating the hunger in her belly and ready to move onward and upward again.

  The passage was on the western side, the sun moving behind the mountain much of the day, but eventually its waning light cast across their backs as it journeyed toward setting. The final hour of daylight always felt brightest, the most earnest light of the day, his mother always said. Shielding his eyes, he stopped, loose pebbles trembling and threatening to give way beneath his dusted boots. He dug his toes into the sheepskin interior, knowing it wouldn’t hold him upright, but feeling a boost of confident defiance. Tilting his head downward, it felt as if the world dropped out from him when he realized how far they’d come. How long the drop to the ground was. He couldn’t see the horses anymore, hadn’t been able to for hours. Even the trees were starting to look like bite-sized vegetables spread across the plate of the world beneath them.

  Higher and higher, they climbed, the air growing thinner and the stone becoming slick with trickling water. There was a gushing spring somewhere up ahead, the water that once supplied the inhabitants of the mountain hall leaking out through the cracks in the stone and running so fierce above them Brendolowyn heard the constant whisper of it hushing in his ears. It grew louder the higher they climbed, increasing his nervous energy as the power of that force of nature ebbed and flowed inside him.

  “What the hell is that?” Finn’s voice echoed off the stone, carrying into the valley below and reverberating back in muffled question.

  Following the tilt of his companion’s neck, Bren’s eyes narrowed across the object in question. It looked like an old bridge, thin and narrow as it stretched across a gaping ravine leading to the summit ledge where Brendolowyn assumed some entry into the mountain waited. “It looks like a bridge.”

  Scaling the wall of stone, it grew harder and harder to find sturdy nooks to place their feet and propel them upward, but they kept going until Lorelei finally called over her shoulder, “I think we’re getting close.”

  They continued climbing, one careful step after the other, inclining upward, the rushing water’s roar growing louder and louder. The passage grew
so narrow as they neared the rock ledge cropping out overhead, he wasn’t sure they would make it at all, but she was light, moved with the agility of a cat and pulled herself up onto that thin shelf and stretched to her full height to take it all in.

  The sound of her astonishment rebounded all around him, a whooping call that made him nervous as it echoed through the valley below. Then she darted forward and disappeared from the edge.

  Finn’s ascendance wasn’t as easy, the warrior pulling the bulk of his body with difficulty up over the ledge, kicking a shower of pebbles and dust down the mountain. Brendolowyn pressed his thin body against the stone, gripping tight to the rock in front of him. He waited until they were both in place on the ledge before making the climb himself. He scrambled up over the stone lip, nearly losing his grip as he glimpsed the bright green garden of stone stretching out before them.

  Much larger than he’d anticipated from below, the place before them was a peaceful refuge, an outdoor temple decorated with blocky, crumbling stone statues worn by weather and time. The faces carved into them were scarcely visible anymore. In the center of it all was a broken altar where sacrifices had once been made to honor and appease Dvergen. He scanned the garden, eyes resting on the falling water carving its way down the mountain and pooling in a small, rippling lake tumbling over the eastern edge of the platform and down the side. The water he’d heard while they were still halfway down the mountain, he could feel its timeless energy reaching out to him, drawn to his magic with yearning.

  It had been a long, long time since travelers reached that summit, he realized. The water’s loneliness suggested an age or more passed since it knew the warm frolic of bodies in its cool depths. As the soft wind kissed his face, he swore he could feel the ancient memory of the people who once dwelt there and it made him shudder. So much pain and rage, desperation and conviction haunted that place. Their will to survive, once so strong, thwarted by the gods without warning. Their lingering spirits didn’t seem to know there was no hope for them. Their future was already lost.