by T. A. White
“Looks like we’re just about there,” Danny said, peering out the windows. Tate didn’t know how he could tell. The trees all looked the same to her. Moments later, the carriage slowed before finally coming to a halt.
Jost and Danny disembarked, Tate following. They stepped out onto a dirt road lined by ancient trees with trunks so wide around it would take ten Tates with arms outstretched to circle them. It made her feel like an ant next to a giant, insignificant and in awe of nature.
Tate’s memories began with snow and rock and tundra and ended with the sea and Aurelia. None of the green vibrancy and cacophony of sound that currently surrounded her.
“You act like you’ve never seen a forest before,” Dewdrop said, coming to stand next to her.
“None that I can remember anyway.” Tate’s head was tilted back to stare at the tree tops, their branches swaying gently with a wind not felt by those on the ground.
She glanced at Dewdrop. He looked startled at her admission. He turned to look around him with new eyes. “The most beautiful forests I’ve ever seen were in the west lands. The green was so deep and vibrant that it almost burned my eyes.”
She looked back at him. “Maybe we can take Night and the cubs to visit someday.”
He shrugged, looking pleased with her suggestion.
Several other carriages clattered around the bend in the road, pulling to a stop next to theirs. People began pouring out of them.
“Were you expecting so many to come?” Tate asked Jost.
“No. I wasn’t.” Jost didn’t look pleased at the turnout.
Tate didn’t blame him. There were too many to manage easily. If they decided to have a fight, they’d overwhelm the four of them with little effort. From the irritation present on many faces, it didn’t look like it would take much for that to happen.
“This is going to be interesting,” Danny muttered.
Tate grunted in agreement.
“No, it won’t, because they’re not all going,” Jost declared, looking fit to do battle. He strode off to where the Silva and the Kairi were glaring daggers at each other.
Jost barked a command and the group ejected Tala and the Shodon. Both looked displeased to be called out—Tala gesturing to her people and the Shodon frowning severely. His guards looked dismayed at whatever orders Jost was relaying.
During the course of this, the Duke of Spiritly, his daughter Roslyn, and several of the academics arrived. Some in carriages, some on horseback.
With the addition of the newcomers and their retinue, there were about fifty people clogging up the road.
“The captain is not going to be happy about this,” Danny said, eyeing the newcomers with a disgruntled expression.
“What message, exactly, did everyone receive to rush all the way over here?” Tate asked.
“Only the head of each delegation was supposed to attend so that we could see what damage the looters inflicted. They were all told only a small number could go into the tunnels. It’s dangerous to have too many people down there at a time.”
“What makes it so dangerous?” Dewdrop asked. He, like Tate, was very familiar with the death trap under Aurelia.
“The ancients left traps in several areas, not all of which have been safely triggered and dismantled. In some places, there is also a threat of collapse where the interior has been damaged.”
Dewdrop looked as thrilled at that news as Tate.
“Looks like they didn’t listen and called for all hands on deck,” Tate said. And maybe put in a call out to their homelands for a few more warm bodies to fill the ranks.
Jost strode back to them, looking about as irritated as he had on ship when one of the midshipmen failed to rig the sail correctly.
“What’s the verdict, oh fierce one?” Tate asked with a jaunty grin.
Jost blinked at her, taken aback by the informal address. She blinked right back at him, waiting for his response. He wasn’t her captain. This wasn’t his ship; she could address him however she liked, as long as she didn’t go too far.
He decided to go with it. Mentally, she applauded his choice.
“They’re allowed two guards each. The Duke and his daughter may bring one guard each. I’m also allowing the archaeologist who made the discovery and his assistant to come with us since they are the most familiar with the tunnels.”
That was probably for the best. If these tunnels were even half as intricate as the ones Tate woke up in or the ones under Aurelia, she didn’t want to be wandering around down there without a guide.
The groups were rearranging themselves, some of the members heading back for their carriage or horse to wait.
When those who were going had separated from those who were staying, Elijah, the academic Tate had sat across from at the dinner party, led the way into the forest.
Tate bellied-up to yet another tree root blocking the path. The thing rose to chest level. Going under was not an option, not unless she wanted to crawl through the mud and chance being bitten by whatever dangerous insects lived in this forested swamp. She planted her hands and heaved, swinging one leg up to get over it, almost falling when her foot slid out. The damn mud they’d been walking through for the last hour made everything slippery.
She caught up to Jost and waited until they were out of immediate hearing range from the rest of the group before asking, “How did they even find this place? I know they said a farmer was looking for land to clear and drain, but this seems a little remote.”
It would take hundreds of hours of manpower to clear an area big enough to plant. That said nothing of having to build a dam to prevent the fields from flooding every year during spring and winter.
Jost looked like he was considering her question. Tate was relieved he hadn’t brushed it off as unimportant.
He studied the swamp around them. The trees were huge, and looked like they had been there forever—their trunks thick and the roots exposed. Several of the trees grew in still, murky water, which Elijah had cautioned them against stepping foot in, as deadly creatures made those deceptively calm waters their home.
The site’s ‘random’ discovery seemed increasingly unlikely. The forest and the warren of waterways it sat on was thick. If they somehow had discovered it by chance, they were the luckiest tunnel hunters ever.
Jost shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I’m frankly astonished they’ve been able to find as many of these places as they have, let alone recover anything without getting themselves killed. The Ancients were notorious for hiding their tunnels in the least likely places and setting traps for their enemies.”
“Because they were at war with the Creators.” Tate remembered this from the history course Ryu had forced her to take.
“And later, with each other.”
Right, Tate did remember hearing about that. When the Saviors finished liberating the three peoples from the Creators, there were several years of peace before the differences in each of the species eventually drove wedges that resulted in war.
“Those who go into this field often have a short life expectancy,” Danny added. He’d caught up to them shortly after Tate had asked her questions. “They’re all a little crazy, if you ask me.”
Tate arched an eyebrow at him. “Because piracy is much more likely to lead to a long life and dying of old age.”
“Only if you’re good at what you do,” he said with a grin.
Tate snorted and shook her head. Pirates. Always cocky and convinced nothing could touch them. He knew as well as she did that a lot of it came down to luck. You could plan for the worst case scenario as much as you’d like, but life had a way of tossing something into the mix that fucked even the best laid plans to the underworld and back.
“Looks like we’re here,” Dewdrop said from ahead of them. He was perched on a large boulder half buried in the muck and looking down the trail.
Tate felt relieved. Her shirt was sticking to her back, and her hair was probably matted with sweat.
Next to Dewdrop was a pillar, battered and chipped by the elements of time. Large parts covered by creeping vines, and tree branches shielded the upper third from view. Its base was wide and carved with symbols, most faded and half gone due to erosion. This must be the obelisk that the Academics said the farmer discovered.
Tate stepped around the hulking monument and came into view of the ruins. What once must have been a series of small stone buildings were now half destroyed and in the process of being reclaimed by the swamp. Tree roots grew through several of the walls and branches stuck out the top. Creeper vines and moss threaded their way through the structure.
Several tents were set up in front of the ruin. The Academics must have decided they were necessary to prevent needing to go back to the city every night. Given that most of the morning was now gone just trying to get here, Tate could understand.
A man walked up to Tate and Dewdrop holding two shirts that looked like they were made from a pliable, woven metal.
“Put these on,” he said, tossing the shirts at them.
Tate caught hers and held it up, eyeing it with skepticism. Upon closer inspection, it looked a little like chain mail, the interlocked links creating a shirt that had some mobility to it. The thing weighed a lot less than a full metal shirt, and was a lot more flexible than armor.
“What are these?”
“They’re meant to protect you. Don’t take them off.”
“Protect us from what?” she asked. The man didn’t answer, walking off to hand shirts to the others straggling into the clearing.
The Silva and the Kairi had had no trouble with the long hike, pushing to increase the pace several times when they deemed it too slow. It was the humans that seemed the most ill at ease in the forest. As a result, Tala and her two guards and the Shodon and his guards were already wearing the shirts.
Gabriella appeared next to Tate, taking the shirt from Dewdrop’s hands and stuffing him into it.
“The zeri shirts are useful in fooling the magics in these places,” she explained as she used straps on the back of the shirt to tighten it so that Dewdrop wasn’t swimming in the excess material meant for an adult much larger than him.
“Magic?” Tate asked.
Gabriella nodded. “All of these places have something. The metal strands in the shirt’s weave will keep some of the magic from attaching itself to you. It’ll make you resistant but not impervious. So don’t go throwing yourself in front of anything.”
“How do you know all this?” Tate asked.
Gabriella’s eyes slid toward Tala and her fellow guard.
“When I was younger, I thought about joining one of the academies and pursuing a life uncovering the Ancients’ secrets.”
“Why didn’t you?” Dewdrop asked.
Her smile was complicated, hinting of things that she would prefer to keep to herself. “Life is not always lived according to your own dreams and desires.”
Tate finished sliding into her shirt and tightening the material down. She gave the other woman a sidelong look. That sounded like a hard way to live your life.
She kept her questions about what had led Gabriella to that conclusion inside. If she’d known the other woman a little better, she might have chanced such a personal question. Or maybe not. Once you started asking questions of that nature, you invited the same. Tate didn’t like explaining her situation over and over again. She didn’t like the pity she sometimes saw in other people’s faces when they learned about the gaping holes in her memory.
“They’re about ready,” Danny said, coming up to stand beside them. “Elijah said stay away from anything marked with red or yellow. That signifies a trap or a suspected trap that hasn’t been disarmed yet.”
“How dangerous is this?” Tate asked, looking at Dewdrop. She should probably make him stay topside.
“Safe enough if you stay on the path,” Jost said, joining them. “I’ve been down twice before. The path is well marked and easy to follow.”
Still, things happened.
“Absolutely not,” Dewdrop said, reading the look on her face. “I’m not staying behind.”
“Dewdrop.”
“No, that wasn’t our deal. We’re partners, remember? You don’t get to leave me behind. Not for any reason.” The look on his face said that this wasn’t up for debate. That if she tried to leave him behind, even if it was for his own good, they were done.
The thing about Dewdrop was that he might look like a teenager, but his life experience made it difficult for him to accept when others wanted to treat him as anything but an adult.
“He should be safe,” Jost said, reading Tate’s body language. She would destroy their friendship in a heartbeat if she thought it would protect him. She’d regret it, but she’d rather him be angry and not talking to her then lying dead in the ground somewhere.
“Fine,” she said. “You stay with the group. Don’t go wandering off and touching things.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Like I’m the one that does that sort of thing. You’re the one always getting into trouble.”
He did have a point.
Chapter Thirteen
Tate followed the rest of the group and stepped through what might have at one point been a doorway, but was now a gaping hole with vines that had been hacked away to reveal the entrance. Her feet rustled through dead leaves and other debris that had drifted inside the dwelling over time. There were large patches of light where sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof. A tree grew in the middle of the room, its branches poking through the open spaces.
“Do you think any animals live in here?” Dewdrop asked.
Tate grimaced. She hadn’t even thought of that.
“I’m sure they took the time to clear any out before starting work,” she said. She hoped that was the case at least.
They entered a long hall. Their footsteps echoed in the vast space as they traversed its length. On the far end was a wall that faded and disappeared when Elijah touched several places on the adjacent wall. Rough stairs led down into a dark hole. Torches had been affixed to the rock and Elijah lit them as he led their group down.
It was a tight fit. Tate balanced herself against the wall on either side, grimacing at the damp feeling of the rock.
The stairs twisted in on themselves, following the natural flow of the rock. Whoever had built these tunnels had taken advantage of thousands of years of water wear. They were slick and slippery from moisture, and covered with a thin green algae or moss. Dewdrop nearly knocked Tate over the second time he slipped.
“Watch it,” one of the duke’s guards snapped when Tate bumped him while trying to stabilize Dewdrop.
She didn’t respond, though she had a brief vision of kicking his legs out from under him and then laughing as he slid down the treacherous steps.
“Friendly group,” Dewdrop muttered.
Tate made a sound of agreement. She concentrated on navigating the next portion. It was trickier—the stairs broken and crumbling. “Watch your step here.”
“How did Night get out of this fun little trip?” Dewdrop groused, being careful to step over the unstable portion.
Good question.
“He said it was your turn to watch Tate,” Danny said from behind them.
That wasn’t all he’d said. When he’d heard they were going back underground, he’d called them a bunch of witless cubs and said he wasn’t stepping foot in this place. Pax and Willa also needed him. Their neighbor couldn’t watch them today since she had business elsewhere. The cubs were fine on their own for the most part, but Willa hadn’t felt well that morning and he wanted to keep an eye on the two.
When they reached the bottom, the space widened. Tate could already tell these tunnels weren’t like the ones under Aurelia. Arches had been carved into the walls, turning the ceiling into a dome high above them. The pattern continued for several hundred feet into the distance, until the tunnel became a T. The floor had bricks laid into it, creating geometric de
signs. Some of the bricks had broken over time and there were bare patches that showed the bare stone of the tunnel beneath.
Tate touched one wall gently, noting the tool marks left behind. Aurelia’s tunnels were unnaturally smooth. Like glass. They were built of a unique stone that gave off the softest of glows. These tunnels were just ordinary rock and brick. You could tell the architects had meant the design of the floors and walls to stimulate the mind, but it was not the same as those under Aurelia.
“As we said above, stay away from any areas marked in red or yellow,” Elijah said from under the first arch. “We will not be held to blame if one of you disregards our warnings and get yourselves killed.”
“How do we know that things have been properly marked?” the duke’s guard asked.
“You don’t,” Elijah said with a sour expression on his face. “No one does. That’s part of why these places are so heavily restricted. You’re only here because the mediator ordered us to let you down here.”
Jost stepped forward. “We are guests here. You are to listen to Elijah and his assistant. These places are set up with traps capable of killing all of us. Please do not make me force you out. You will not like the consequences I level on your delegation.”
The threat was clear in his tone. She could see him carrying out on his promises; by the looks on the others faces, they believed him too.
Once he’d leveled a glare at each person and received their acknowledgement of his instructions, he turned to Elijah. “Please lead on to where you suspect the looters did damage.”
Elijah nodded and picked up a hand-held lamp with a softly glowing orb in it. His assistant handed several similar lamps out. Dewdrop snagged one before he could hand it to the duke’s men.
Roslyn came to stand beside Tate, examining the area around them.
“What do you think of all this?” Roslyn asked.
“I think it would be very easy to get down here if you knew where to look and there was no guard to protect the entrance.”
Roslyn’s head tilted and her forehead furrowed in confusion. Tate’s answer was unexpected. Roslyn went along with it. “My father assigned round-the-clock guards. Two above ground and two at the bottom of the stairs.”