by Tammy Salyer
Descending carefully, feeling each step with her foot before committing, she made her way down. The firelight made distance deceptive, and the winding of the stairway along the tower wall made the trip interminable. She sent a few words into her Mentalios to give her more light, but not much. She wanted to conserve her energy. With caution on the unknown stairs dictating her speed, it would take her longer to reach the floor of the tower than it had taken her to traverse up the ravine to get here. Time ticked away from her like lifeblood, and the seeds of panic for Isemay that had already rooted in her guts began to sprout.
She was less than a third of the way down when the young man flew up to her. He was so swift that it alarmed her, and she brought the bludgeon up reflexively to protect herself. But he did not come close. Rather, he kept enough distance to study her. His eyes, somehow familiar to Symvalline, widened curiously.
“You really are from somewhere else,” he said.
She lowered the weapon and glanced down to find her next step. “Yes.”
The boy glanced up toward the ceiling. “And you left the door open.” He stated this as a fact, but the distrust in his voice was as plain as his wings.
“I mean none of you any harm,” she reassured him. “There were Zhallahs in the starpath valley when my daughter and I arrived from Vinnr, nearly half a thirty-night ago, and they came to our aid when the Minothians…didn’t.”
“It’s true then! Onni and Cylli were right! Has the Everlight brought you here to help us?”
“Onni and Cylli?” Symvalline found her next step, carefully considering his question before answering it.
“Duripi’s twins, Kalisk’s grandchildren. They were taken by the Deathless the night the starpath opened. They’re here with Eleni and me now.”
The hope in his voice was plaintive, and it made Symvalline pause. The poor children’s fear, their parents in the Zhallah village who didn’t know if they’d ever see them again, didn’t even know if they lived, it wrenched at her heart. How could they? How could these Minothians do something so wicked? The danger to any Zhallahs who strayed outside the Churss was obviously extreme. But Mura and the boy Salukis, all of them, had been doing as children do, something harmless they shouldn’t have been doing but couldn’t resist. No children deserved this fate.
“How many of you are here?” she asked quietly.
“Four…now.” He hovered beside her, searching her face for the hope she hadn’t yet been able to give him. She didn’t know what to say, so she brought the conversation around to what she needed. The fact was, if she ever wanted to help these children, she first had to escape Tuzhazu’s reach. “Listen, child. I must try to get out of here and back to the Zhallahs. There is a well down at the bottom of the tower, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” he said. “And the river.”
“I need to reach it. The water that feeds it runs through Minoth Valley to the labyrinth. If I can get to the labyrinth without the Minothians finding me, I’ll be able to reach the Zhallahs and bring help to get you and the other children free.”
She glanced up and saw him staring at her skeptically, following her slow footsteps easily. “Do you know how far it is across this valley to the labyrinth?”
“Approximately.”
“And you are an Archon?”
“I am.”
He seemed to be thinking, then he said, “You look light. Let me help you. It’ll take you forever to reach the bottom.”
She’d been carried before by a Rheunosian, and time was short enough that she consented with a nod. He crossed behind her and reached his hands beneath her arms, pulling her from her feet with wings that seemed capable of great force. The Arc Rheunosians were a truly extraordinary people. Their attributes made the Vinnrics seem almost weak and plain by comparison, and the fact that their peoples were as divided as her own realm’s seemed a tragedy.
They reached the floor, and he released her lightly on her feet with a precision that said this wasn’t the first time he’d carried someone. In the closer firelight, she looked around and took in the faces of three others.
Children. They were all children, and she felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest at this inhumanity once more. The boy who’d carried her was the oldest by a couple of years, and the youngest two, twins, seemed to be about ten, two girls and two boys in total.
Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, fury at such wanton mistreatment choking her. “Why in the Verities’ names are you children down here?”
None of the Zhallahs seemed to want to speak to her. They eyed her with the same fascination, well-tempered with fear, that the oldest boy had. She turned to him, hoping for an explanation.
“Archon Tuzhazu converts the Zhallahs they capture into Deathless Guards. When we’re old enough,” the boy said simply. “I’ll become one after the Equifulcrum.”
Symvalline nearly gasped. She couldn’t fathom it, kidnapping children, raising them to adulthood, then turning them into those…things. It seemed Tuzhazu must have lacked for volunteers to such an “honorable” position. Or perhaps he simply did it because his mind was a twisted ball of slime.
The boy continued, “Until then, we collect the nightcaps that grow beneath the Cosmoculous for the Minothians.” He waved toward the far end of the chamber, where a hinged grate opened to a rough stone shaft. A cave, or cavern of some sort. She could make out the hints of lights inside, the subdued glowing of something bioluminescent like she’d seen on the banks of the river the night she and Isemay had arrived. Were these the nightcaps?
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Eleni and I, almost two years. We were collecting nightcaps by the banks of the Thallorn with my sister, Mura. The Minothians—”
“Mura?” Symvalline said, cutting him off. “She is your sister?”
His face shone with sudden excitement. “You know Mura?”
“She was at the river when we arrived. She helped my daughter get away, but Archon Tuzhazu and his soldiers took me prisoner.”
At the mention of the Archon, she watched the smaller children unconsciously bunch closer together, and the smaller boy and girl reached out to clasp each other’s hands. They feared him, too. Every Minothian she’d met did. And they were right to. He may not have been a Deathless Guard, tainted by Balavad’s elixir, but he was an abomination just the same.
But time was short, and she needed to go. She couldn’t do much for these children now, but she would do what she could when she knew Isemay was safe. “What is your name?”
“I’m Dwoon.”
“Dwoon, listen. The Archon is dangerous, and while he controls the Minothian forces, they are too. There is an event happening in a few days, the—”
The oldest of the two girls cut in, “Equifulcrum.”
She nodded. “Yes, and I believe Tuzhazu is going to take control of Minoth, then the rest of the Arc Rheunosian people, including the Zhallahs. I’m going to try to stop him…”
Even as she said these words, she realized, somewhere deep down, she had already decided this. Once Isemay was safe, she would come back. The other Knights and Ulfric would be able to manage Vinnr and Balavad without her for now. No one who stole others’ children could be allowed to rule over an entire realm. It was unconscionable. She and Ulfric may have been planning to set aside their oaths and return to a normal commoner life, but she was realizing she would never be able to live a normal life knowing there were others ordained by a Verity—others who’d taken the same oath she’d been dedicated to for so long—who could so completely and thoroughly abuse that power, that gift. She could not stand by and allow such crimes to go unpunished.
“You are going to free the Everlight?” the older girl asked, and the question jolted Symvalline from her contemplation.
“Free Mithlí? What do you mean?”
Struck with sudden shyness by Symvalline’s abruptness, the girl went quiet and cast her eyes to her feet. Dwoon picked up her thread.
&n
bsp; “The Archons hold the Everlight captive. That’s why”—he spread his arms wide, as if to indicate the walls around them—“this.” As if in agreement, the strange surge of light that ran through the tower’s stones came again. “That’s her, the Everlight. She wants to break free but can’t. Her vessel is shackled by the Fenestrii in the tower.”
So her suspicions were right. The book she’d found—it contained an elaborate spell to hold not just anyone entombed within a Fenestrii prison. It was meant for the Verity herself.
The child’s question played through her mind. Was she going to free Mithlí? If she did, would it end this schism?
The implications shot through her mind rapidly. What would happen if the cage were undone? Would Mithlí seek vengeance, or even perceive the act as wrong? Would the Verity punish her Archons for their betrayal? Would she punish all Arc Rheunosians? But she couldn’t forget the first line of the book: Only the maker can unmake the cage.
Was the writer of the book the maker? I need to get it back when I find Agatha. I need to end this desecration once and for all.
Focus, Symvalline. First things first. She looked to Dwoon. “Please, show me the way to the river. Once I know my daughter is safe, I’ll… do whatever I can.”
The boy pointed toward the center of the floor, where a flagstone circle surrounded a wide opening. Beneath it flowed the tributary she sought. Kneeling, she looked over the edge and dangled her shining Mentalios down to see the water. It looks very cold, she thought.
In the dim light, it flowed nearly black and moved swiftly. She didn’t fear the darkness. Her wystic lens would give her enough light. But other fears took that one’s place. What would she encounter in there? How long would she have to hold her breath between wells? Would the coldness numb sensation in her hands too much for her to arrest her passage when she reached them? Would the tributary grow too narrow at any point to pass? The unknowns were daunting.
With the strength of will only someone who’d lived her lifetimes could accumulate, she shoved her fears away. There was no time for them now.
Turning back to the boy, she said, “There are only two guards at the tower entrance, and they will not awaken for hours. You all must leave this tower. Hide in the hills or take the small path that runs behind the tower into the mountains. You’ll come to a ravine, and at its end is the barrow where they keep those who’ve passed over. None will look for you there and you can hide until I or someone else can come for you. Take what food you can. But, whatever you do, don’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.”
“You’ll come back?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in the firelight.
She looked over all four children, seeing a wary hope in their eyes. It gave her some of her own and she grasped it desperately. “As soon as I can. Tell me all your names once more. I’ll let your families know you’re safe if—when I see them.”
The children said their names, except for the youngest, shyest, whom Dwoon spoke for. They would be burned into Symvalline’s mind. Perhaps they would keep her warm as she passed through the frigid waters under the mountains. That, and her fury, would have to do.
Chapter Thirty-One
Urgo and Yggo flew with all the fervor and rage of a vengeful Verity, nearly frothing at the mouth like horses as Ulfric urged them onward. Isemay was in trouble, some terrible trouble that he couldn’t begin to grasp. But he would be damned to the bottom of the black waters of Himmingaze’s Never Sea if he was going to lose another person he loved. Not today, not again.
Her pleading through her memory keeper—Da, it’s after us…listen to me, go with Salukis…we need your help—rushed through his mind like a flood. He knew Urgo was feeling his urgency, his wrath, and in turn was telling Yggo to go, GO!
He’d caught a glimpse of the Arc Rheunosian his daughter had mentioned. A boy, really. Salukis. His face was burned in Ulfric’s brain and he would go to his grave remembering every crease, every bump, the amber skin and copper hair. The questions of why his child was with this boy and not Symvalline and where Symvalline could be ate at him, but he would find Isemay and have his answers. And Verities help anyone who stood, or flew, in his way. He and the bruhawks would cut through them like kindling if they had to.
The maze had been visible from their perch when he’d called to Isemay, and he’d seen that she was somewhere within it through the limited vantage of her memory keeper: the vertical granite walls rising to either side, and after she’d been taken aloft by Salukis, the maze below them. So he ordered Urgo forward over the maze, encouraged by the bruhawks’ predator-strong sight that they’d either find his daughter or the boy who could lead him to her.
And the bruhawks’ sight didn’t fail him. Within moments of entering the maze’s airspace, the birds spotted two figures in the distance, both flying away from him. They were swift, but they were not bruhawks. Yggo and Urgo overtook them after a short chase.
The two Arc Rheunosians were not expecting anyone coming from behind and never saw them. Ulfric had the birds cruised above the two so he could get a close look at them. They were not the boy he sought—nor were they what he’d expected.
The two men were dressed in military-style uniforms: long vests that were cut to fit around where their wings grew from their backs, undershirts of light brown, and mid-calf boots made from some material that didn’t appear to be leather. But it was the swords they each carried that drew his eye. Made from a darkish metal that had the bluish-black color of a bruise, the end hooked. The same swords carried by Balavad’s Ravener horde.
Ephemerally, he gasped. Could his eyes be deceiving him? Was there no end to the worlds that had already been desecrated by the malignant Verity? He’d seen the Arc Rheunosian Verity had been caged through Balavad’s Scrylle, but he hadn’t expected it to also be overrun with Raveners. His fears for his family nearly choked him.
Despite this, once the shadow of the tracking bruhawks drew the attention of one of the soldiers and he looked up at them, Ulfric had no trouble making a decision. These were servants of Balavad. The empty gray eyes proved it. And they would die.
He sent Urgo his command: They are Raveners. End them. Urgo did not need to be told twice. With a squawk, he alerted Yggo and they rocketed from the sky like meteors, the speed and agility of their coordinated attack unmatchable by anything whose primary means of travel was by mere foot. Their claws had ripped into the wings of both Raveners before either could begin to react. The monsters shrieked an unholy cacophony, and the bruhawks, as if of one mind, released the soldiers. Even if they’d had the resilience to continue to fight the birds, their now useless wings decided their fates would instead end at the bottom of the maze. They plummeted, shrill cries ringing the whole way, and Ulfric saw their bodies break against the hard path carved through the mountain before he urged Urgo once more forward. There was nothing to mourn, no regret to be felt at the deaths of these monsters.
Sometime later, Ulfric spotted a valley on the other side of the maze, still distant. Then two more forms were visible, this time coming directly at them. It was obvious one was chasing the other, and as he and the bruhawks ate through the distance, he saw the gap closing to the one in the lead. The chaser was another of the abhorrent Raveners.
The one being chased was the boy Salukis.
Yggo seemed to know what to do and flew directly toward the Ravener. The boy saw the giant bird and his face darkened with even greater fright. The bruhawks likely didn’t exist in this realm, and Salukis did his best to dart downward out of the bird’s path. Ulfric saw the unnatural arc of his flight and realized the boy was injured. He would never leave the labyrinth without their help.
But, as with the first two, this Ravener’s time was limited. As Urgo and Ulfric dove toward the wounded boy, Yggo darted in and gripped one of the Ravener’s wings, ripping it halfway off before flinging the shrieking enemy aside. He, like the others, had no chance of staying aloft and was quickly lost amid the maze’s great walls.
Yet the b
oy continued to try to flee. His wings flapped furiously, if gracelessly, as he attempted to gain some distance on the bruhawks. Urgo came up beside him easily, and Yggo banked and glided toward them.
He doesn’t know we are friends. As calmly as he could, Ulfric spoke through his Mentalios, sure the boy had Isemay’s memory keeper and would hear him.
“Don’t be afraid, Rheunosian. These two bruhawks are here to protect you. I am here to protect you.”
From a safe distance beside Salukis, Ulfric could see the boy jerk at the sound of his voice, then reach around his neck and grab the pendant, Isemay’s pendant. His eyes darted between the crystal in the memory keeper to Ulfric and Urgo, then back and forth.
“Yes,” Ulfric said. “Speak into the crystal. I can hear you.”
The boy looked doubtfully at the pendant, blinked at seeing Ulfric’s face there, then said, “Where are you? How do you command these…these enormous birds?”
It struck Ulfric then how difficult it would be to explain the events of the last few weeks—to anyone, but especially to this stranger who knew nothing of Vaka Aster, Balavad, Vinnr, or the devastation of the Knights Corporealis. Least of all, Ulfric’s habitation first by a Verity then of Urgo. And there was simply no time now to explain any of it.
“I can’t answer that now. You must take us to my daughter. Now!”
In just these few moments, Ulfric could see how much more labored the boy’s flying was becoming. He wouldn’t last much longer. They needed to land.
Despite how frustrating it was, he needed the boy sound if he was to get answers from him and commanded him: “Boy, we must get away from this maze and into the mountains. You are wounded and won’t get much farther like that. Follow me.”
“No! We have to reach the Churss and Maerria. Archon Raamuzi will help us. We can’t do anything for Isemay now, not without more aid.”