“Wh—”
He cut her off with his shouting. “This is your only warning. Do you hear me? Your only one! If you talk like that again—if you dare call yourself weak for what you feel—we’ll have more than words. Do you understand me, Ember from Gioll?”
Meekly, she squeaked out a “yes.” He had gone off without warning. It was yet another reminder that he was unhinged and unpredictable. And dangerous.
“Good!” he piped cheerfully. And just like that, the switch flipped in the other direction. He hopped off her and scooped her up from the ground and planted her on her feet. It took her a second to keep from falling over. “We’re home, anyway!”
“What?”
He was already walking away from her. She was so disoriented and turned around that it took her a hot second to realize she was standing in a stone courtyard that was badly overgrown. A huge fountain towered over her. A figure had once stood atop it but was gone now. Only rubble remained in the basin that should have held water instead.
And there was the building.
Or what was left of it.
It had been built of stone, and most of it was still standing. But the windows were largely gone, or only the shattered bits of mullions remained, the glass long missing. Parts of the roof had collapsed inward, and the rest looked as though nature was eagerly working to reclaim it.
“You said it was four hundred years?” She looked up at the building, dark against the night sky. A few of the towers of the building still had their spires atop them, stabbing up at the night sky like iron nails. “Looks pretty good, all things considered.”
Rxa’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Going to have a lot of work to do to fix it up.” He began walking toward the large double door that was the entryway. It was chained shut with a large padlock. He gripped the lock in both hands and ripped it apart. The metal groaned, and then snapped like a twig.
He could have done that to me at any time.
But he didn’t.
“How’re you going to fix the place up?” She followed him. Cricket seemed content to wander around the courtyard, chewing on bits of plants or sniffing at things. “You can’t possibly do it yourself.”
He snickered. “Magic, silly. What did you think I was going to do? Get a hammer and some nails?” Tossing the chain and shattered lock aside, he pulled open the door. He tried. As he pulled on the handle, it came off in his hand. Glancing down at it, he didn’t notice as the door tipped toward him.
Wham!
“Rxa!” She ran toward him. He had been crumpled beneath the large, heavy wooden objects. Grabbing one of the panels, she tried to heave it off him, but could barely budge it.
“Why?” he moaned from underneath the door. “Why does this shit happen to me?” he whined and pushed on the wood, sliding it away from him. She helped him up as he climbed out from under the doors.
She tried not to laugh at how pathetic he sounded. But she couldn’t help it. Once more, she laughed without intending to. She brushed a piece of dust and a fleck or two of stone off his shoulder, and then picked some out of his hair. “You poor thing.”
“And you were worried about me.” He poked the end of her nose with the point of one of his nails. “You do care.”
“I—”
“Ah! Nope. Not going to hear it.” He strolled away from her like nothing had happened, walking over the doors. “You care about me.”
“I—no—” She followed him. “But—”
“Too late!” He cackled.
Ember fought the urge to throw something at his head. That time, she succeeded. And kind of regretted it.
16
Jakob hummed as he walked alongside Dtu. The big wolf had grown pensive during the winter storm. They had changed directions, quickly abandoning their trek north to head away and south from the road they were taking. To some small town that wasn’t too far away.
Kamira had come back with news that the town had been abandoned. There had been a few drengil wandering about, but they were easily dispatched. With all the living chased off or already killed, the hungering dead would have no reason to stay. They followed the smell of fresh meat.
“How are you so cheerful?” Dtu finally asked him, swiveling his head to glance a flickering green flame of an eye his way. The wolf had long since stopped unnerving him. In fact, Jakob couldn’t help but want to be at his side.
“This is nothing new for me. Running, surviving, hiding…trying to be safe. Being stuck out in the weather.” He jogged a little to walk closer to Dtu’s head, and less by his flank. “I rather enjoy being on the road. I love to travel. I love to be out. I can’t stay in one place for too long.”
“I am much the same.”
“I know. I think that’s why I’ve got a growing crush on you.” Jakob chuckled.
Dtu staggered, his large paws slipping on the thin layer of snow. He left no tracks in his wake, which Jakob found utterly fascinating. Sure enough, when he looked behind him, there were only his footprints at the lead. No enormous pawprints tracked beside him.
“You…” Dtu sighed, his fur on his shoulders bristling briefly. “You are teasing me.”
“No. Why would I tease?” Jakob frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought—I’ve made you uncomfortable. Never mind.” Now he felt foolish.
Dtu’s voice softened and grew gentle, as if apologizing for what he had said. “I am not uncomfortable. It does not…bother me. It is just that no one has…It has been a very long time, little human. A very, very long time.”
“Since Qta?” he guessed.
Dtu nodded once and stayed silent.
Jakob reached out and put his hand on his front leg as they walked. “If it’s too soon, or if it isn’t mutual…”
“It has been nearly two thousand years, Jakob. It cannot be too soon—it can only be too late.”
Jakob furrowed his brow, thinking over the creature’s words. Then it hit him what the wolf meant. His heart cracked in half. “You think it’s too late for you.”
Another silent nod.
“I’m happy to try to prove you wrong!” He laughed. “If you want to, that is. I mean. This form might be a bit too much for me to tangle with, but your human shape was much more my—uh—size.”
Dtu chuckled and shook his head. “You are a strange one.”
“Is that a no?”
The silence of the snowfall and the trudge of boots filled the space between them for a long moment. Then the giant wolf finally answered. “It is not a no.”
Jakob found himself beaming.
What was Ember supposed to say to a man who was walking through the rubble of his home as if he were a ghost? She didn’t know.
She followed him silently as Rxa drifted silently from room to room, aimlessly touching the bits and pieces of his former life that remained there. A painting. A broken table. A chair. Tattered curtains were stained from rain and faded from time. He picked up the end of one and plucked at a few of the loose strings.
This was his home.
Abandoned and left to rot.
Just like he had been.
Or at least, that was what he thought had happened.
She carefully walked up behind him. In her mind, she was approaching a wounded bear. She reached out to touch his back with just as much caution. He flinched at her touch and recoiled from her. “Go, Ember…find somewhere quiet to stay in this place.”
“What?” He had been glued to her side or touching her in some way seemingly since she had strapped him to the back of her horse. That feels like weeks ago. Grandfather, it was only a week!
“I—need a moment. I…go. Please. Leave me be.” He walked away from her, shaking his head. He buried one of his hands into his hair, fisting the strands and tugging on them.
“I don’t think you should be alone right now.” She should go and leave him like he said—take the chance to jump on Cricket’s back and ride off into the distance. But there was nowhere she could go where he couldn’t find
her. Not if he commanded the drengil. And for now, she was at least mostly distracting him from his quest to destroy the world.
And abandoning him like this…it didn’t feel right.
He shook his head again. “No. I probably shouldn’t. But I don’t—you’re mortal, Ember. Fragile. I don’t want to hurt you. Please. Go find somewhere to sleep. I’ll…be all right.”
“You aren’t all right. You’re not going to be all right.”
“No, but I don’t think I can get much worse.” He cackled. His voice had a sudden sharp edge of madness to it—of cruelty. He was disappearing back into one of his manic moods.
He can rip steel apart with his bare hands. He could kill me with a gesture. Maybe even with a thought. He has magic. Don’t argue with him. “I’ll come back and check on you in a few hours if you don’t find me before then.”
He paused then nodded once. He stood near a window, silhouetted against the moonlight outside. His head was lowered. His voice was soft again. “Thank you, Ember…for caring. Even just a little.”
She nodded and, after another small pause, left the room without saying anything else. There were no words. She walked away, expecting to hear crashing or screaming from the room below, but nothing happened.
The tapping of rain outside on the stones gave her a new purpose. Better cobble up some decent shelter for the night. It was a project, and projects were good. It kept her busy. It kept her from thinking too much. Specifically, about Rxa.
No, fuck it. It kept her from thinking about anything that had happened to her in the past week and some-odd days. Stupid Under and its stupid magic. Its stupid immortal creatures and weird, egotistical demigods.
The rain posed another challenge, besides the dampness—the darkness. Clouds moved over the moons, blotting out almost all of the meager light there had been. “Great,” she muttered as she began to feel her way along the walls, careful to avoid any holes in the floor by toeing the spot in front of her before stepping.
After what must have been a half an hour, she finally found a candelabra with the tapers still intact. This place is very well preserved for four hundred years. I wonder how. Maybe this world doesn’t have normal insects? Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen flies or mosquitos since she had arrived.
One point for Under, she supposed.
Pulling her flint, striker, and a strip of dry cloth out of her bag, she lit the cotton fabric after a few attempts. Carefully lighting the wicks, she blew out the cloth and stomped on it to ensure she didn’t accidentally burn down the building. That would be my luck.
This felt normal to her. Natural.
This was the life she had lived for so long. Surviving in the corpses of buildings, in the ruins of society. Scraping together whatever she could find to get through to the next day. To live for the next second.
It honestly felt oddly nice to fall into her old habits.
Now at least she could see. That was a plus.
Her next task was to find some shelter from the rain coming through the holes in the ceiling. Somewhere dry to sleep. Walking from room to room, she came across a bedroom that looked in better shape than the rest. The windows were still blown out, and the bedframe had collapsed, but the mattress looked in decent shape. There were no stains, holes, or anything else. More proof that Under didn’t have normal vermin. Or weather.
Sheets still covered the plush mattress—cases were still on the pillows. They were dusty and faded, forgotten where they were abandoned. Like Rxa. She sighed. The man was much like the building. Broken and abandoned.
The whole place felt…haunted.
She knew it was foolish to think she might see shadows moving in the corner of her vision. There were no ghosts in Under, she was fairly certain. The building was just layered thick with memory and emotions. And rage.
Pulling the sheets off, she tossed them to the side of the room. They were too dusty and smelled odd. The mattress looked okay, however. She tugged it free of the broken frame and placed it flat on the ground. The pillow covers went next.
Rooting through closets, she found boxes of random things. Books, clothing, shoes…all the things she might expect. Finally, she found a stack of blankets that looked as though they were kept out of the weather well enough to use. They didn’t smell too musty. Dropping them on the bed, she picked up the candelabra and sighed again.
She should lie down and get some rest. A week spent constantly riding on a horse had left her bruised, exhausted, and sore.
But it didn’t feel right to leave Rxa alone.
Plucking up the candelabra, she made her way out of the house and toward the main stairwell that ran up the center of the house. It was huge by her standards, but compared to Aon’s estate, it was positively humble. The décor was much less elaborate, to put it lightly. I think anywhere is less elaborate than Aon’s home.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused. Over the door they had come through was an enormous painting she had not seen before.
It was of him.
It was of who he had been.
A white, perfect porcelain mask was matched by the white sash of cloth he wore around his waist. Brilliant, opalescent wings spread out behind him, shining in all the colors at once. Golden chains draped from his fingers and around his neck, offsetting the white writing that covered his tanned, perfect male form.
And there, kneeling on the ground in the center of his foyer, staring up at the piece of artwork, was what the man had become. Bandaged, bloody, and broken.
She watched silently as Rxa reached out in front of him and drew an arc in the dust. She wasn’t sure what he was doing at first until he repeated the gesture on the other side.
Wings.
He was drawing wings into the soot on the ground. In the remains of the world he had once known. He lay down between them so that the arcs came from his shoulders. As if they were real.
Sitting down on the top step, she placed the candelabra silently down beside her. He didn’t seem to notice her yet. He wore his porcelain mask, cracked and yellowed, but his attention was on the painting over him.
After a long few minutes, he draped an arm over his head, the crook of his elbow covering his eyes. “I told you to leave me be, Ember.”
“I know.” She stood and walked down the stairs toward him, holding the candelabra up for light. “Couldn’t leave you down here in good conscience.”
“Why?”
“You’re suffering.” She frowned. “We might be enemies…but we’re really not, are we?”
“No.” He kept his arm draped over his face.
Silence lingered for a long time as she gazed up at the painting of what Rxa had been. No wonder he had such an enormous ego. Look at him. “I found a mattress we can use. Seems in good condition. Somehow. Magic, I’m sure.”
“No. We don’t have insects like what you’re used to. Under has two forms of animals—those that are made by the dreamers, and those that are made from the scraps of souls like your horse friend.” His tone was flat and unreadable. It was as though he was far away, and simply reading some piece of historical fact to her from off a placard. It worried her more than it should have.
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“I want to tear it all down and rip it to shreds.” He meant more than just the painting.
“I understand. I do.” She took in the image of his former glory again and shook her head. “We can’t change what’s been done. We can only change what we choose to do about it.”
“I have every right to be angry.”
“And so do they, for what you did.” She sighed. “To them, it was a betrayal.”
“It seems we were both betrayed.”
“I guess so.” She nudged his foot gently with hers. “Will you come with me?”
“No.”
“I’ll let you be little fork.”
That finally got his attention. He moved his arm from his face and lifted his head. “What the hell d
id you just say?”
“I said you can be little fork.” She shrugged. “You know, like the other night.”
He laughed quietly in disbelief and plunked his head back onto the floor. “It’s spoon, my dove. Little spoon.”
“Forks do that, too. And…it makes more sense that way, anyway.” She frowned down at him. “I mean, we have two legs. We’re more fork-like than spoon-like.”
He snickered and sat up, turning his head to watch her. “Why are you here?”
“I told you, I couldn’t leave you down here and—”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I guess I wasn’t really asking you.” He huffed himself up to sitting. She offered him a hand up, and he took it. “How can I resist the promise of a good forking?”
With a chuckle, she led him up the stairs and to the room she had done her best to make livable. She put the candelabra down on the ground next to the mattress, and stripped off her coat, leaving her just in the bandages. It would be nice to have a shirt sometime soon.
Shoes and socks went next, and she glanced at Rxa, only to find him already under the sheets on his side, facing away from her. His pants were on the ground beside him. She couldn’t exactly fault him for sleeping naked—they didn’t have many other options.
At least if she played big fork—spoon—whatever, it couldn’t get too awkward in the middle of the night. Awkward and potentially dangerous for her failing moral compass. She slipped out of her own pants, keeping her underwear on, and joined him on the bed.
She wrapped her arms around him and tucked her head atop his. He was taller and bigger than she was—it felt silly to try to hold him like this. But she did her best. “I’m sorry, Rxa,” she whispered to him. “If it’s any consolation…you’re still beautiful.”
“Not like I was.”
Maybe that’s for the best. I’m not sure I would be able to touch something that looked like that painting on the wall. She kissed the back of his head. “Get some sleep.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh. She stayed awake until she felt his breathing grow slow and smooth. Only then did she let herself fall asleep alongside him.
Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2) Page 14