The sun had started to set again when Dalandaras halted and ordered us out of our skis. We left the valleys behind and entered what seemed little more than a crevice in the side of the mountains. It would have been easy to overlook had we just been passing through. But the crevice turned into stairs, wide and low, carved cleanly into stone.
We followed it upwards, the crevice darkening slowly with the dusk, for only a few minutes before I could see the end of the path. I heard the screech of a bird, then another, short and sharp calls echoing in the mountains. My heart leapt when I recognized their cries.
Seagulls.
I took the last steps at a sprint, cresting the top.
A strong, stinging wind hit my face and pushed me back. I clung to the rock face to steady myself. Half a mile down a steep slope was a smooth plane of ice that cracked and shifted, and beyond that was a calm sea covered in a low-hanging fog. We were at the narrow end of a channel, and mountains stretched out on either side of the sea to the horizon. The sun just touched the mountains on my right, casting part of the channel in gold and orange, the right-hand side still covered by the pale purple of the range’s shadow.
“It’s beautiful,” Zarah said.
Don’t let the sea seduce you. Wasn’t that what my mother had said?
On the shore below us there was what looked like great ice flow. It stretched from the shore and up into a mountain valley. It had been dusted by snow, and thousands of great cracks ran along it and crisscrossed each other, turning the ice flow into hundreds of individual blocks.
But there was something odd about the way it was formed; the cracks were too straight, not jagged. It wasn’t an ice flow. The blocks were buildings. The fractures weren’t fractures, but pathways between white stone walls. There were stone roofs, some flat, some pointed, some collapsed inward. The snowfall had partially filled in the roads and given the illusion of a smooth ice flow.
“Is it a city?” my father asked as he came up beside me.
“Yes,” Dalandaras replied.
But there were no lights, no fires lit, no people, no traffic on the roads. It was a dead city, long abandoned from the looks of it.
“What happened to it?” I asked.
“We do not know,” Eliawen said. “It is not an elf creation.”
“What do you mean?” Aerik asked.
“We did not build it,” Lorandal replied. “It was here long before us.”
“I traveled through it once, with my grandfather,” Dalandaras said. “But most avoid it.”
A sea breeze swept from the shore to the valley, picking up flurries of snow and carrying them over the empty city.
“Why not claim it, use it?” I asked, but I didn’t think the city would have liked unfamiliar people living in its walls.
“Most people do not like how it feels. My grandfather was the only one who enjoyed the place. Come, we’re almost there.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dalandaras led us westward around the mountain. Only a short ledge separated us from a steep fall to the beach below. The path widened until it turned into a small courtyard. Recessed into the rock face was a door, marked by a single lit torch. Far above the door, a city had been carved into the mountain. Several towers seemed to grow out of the rock, linked by parapet walkways. Dotted all around the mountain’’s side were glassless arched windows that looked out onto the bay; dark shadows in the rock face were not shadows at all, but deep recesses whose edges were guarded by balustrades. But there were no paths that led safely back to the courtyard from the high places. There was only the thick wooden door in front of us.
As Dalandaras approached, a voice behind the door called out. The words were muffled.
“Dalandaras,” he replied. “ Eliawen, Lorandal, ne bahale.”
And friends, I thought.
Locks and bolts clanked, and the door groaned as it swung inward. A young man’s face peered out from the darkness within. He was shorter than Dalandaras, with the same sheen to his skin. His long hair was tinged with the gold, as was his skin, looking like sunlight. But his clothes were gray and drab, and had not the richness of Dalandaras or Lorandal or Eliawen. I had expected a weapon but he carried none.
“Ar Dalandaras!” he said, and then when he spotted me and the other humans, he switched to the common language. “We were not expecting you.”
“It is Singael’s business,” Dalandaras said.
“It is?” the young man asked, his eyes wide. He opened the door fully and ushered us inside. “What should I do?””
What should I do? What kind of guard was he?
“Tonight, inform the watch and check the wards.”
The door was closed and bolted behind us. The corridor was narrow and dark. A single torch burned near the door, and another was faint in the distance at a point where the corridor curved. It was not how I expected an elf place to look. It was bleak and empty.
“Well follow me, then,” the young man said as he headed down the narrow hall.
“Where is everyone?” Dalandaras asked.
“Ar Singael ordered many of us gone,” the young elf replied. “And Alid thought it best to obey. He……does not think he will be alive for much longer. When we can understand what he is saying, that is. His mind has deteriorated since the last time you were here.”
We rounded the bend only to be confronted by two women. Both wore white, richly embroidered robes, that had faded and frayed with age. One was tall, thin, and hard-looking, with long, black hair threaded with silver, and her skin had a silver sheen to it, matching many of the rocks of the mountains. The other had the same pale gold hair as the young man. Neither looked pleasant or welcoming. The hard-looking woman’s eyes met mine, and for a moment I thought her lips curled into a sneer.
“Atear?” the woman asked. “Dalandaras, talar…”
Humans, and said mockingly. The feeling was mutual.
Dalandaras approached her, and replied in a whisper; a quick back and forth ensued.
I leaned as close as I could to Eliawen. “Who is she?”
“A thorn,” Eliawen replied quietly.
“I already figured that.”
“She will be of little help to you.” Lorandal added. “If you need anything, ask one of us, and we will get it for you.”
“She doesn’t look much like an elf,” Aerik said. “She doesn’t have that different look that you do.”
“We do not all look like we three.”
The argument between Dalandaras and the woman resolved.
“I am Alid,” she said to us. “This is Ilia. She will show you to your rooms and bring you food.”
The other woman stepped forward. “Come, please.”
“I need to see Grandfather,” Dalandaras said.
“He is sleeping,” Alid protested.
“When has he ever slept at night?”
“You have not been here in long time. What would you know of his habits?”
“His habits have been the same for centuries.”
“If you must, then.”
“Eva,” he said. “Come with me. Not you, Lord Baradan,” he said as my father stepped forward. “He is not fond of strangers; it would be best if Eva and I went in alone.”
Father nodded reluctantly.
“I will go to the Queen tonight,” Eliawen said. “I need to inform her of what has happened.”
“Could you see if she will send reinforcements to the Fort?” my father asked. “I know you believe that the apparition will follow us, but I do not like that my men are left to fend for themselves against a magic that they have no experience with.”
“I am certain she will,” Eliawen replied.
We had halted at an area where the corridor split into several archways. Father took my skis and he, Zarah, Aerik, and Lorandal followed Ilia through an archway and up a set steep spiral stairs. Eliawen murmured a farewell to Dalandaras before following the young man back to the entrance.
Alid led Dalandaras and I up an
other set of stairs. A cold wind blew down on us. At the landing, a door was partially ajar. Alid didn’t knock, but pushed her way inside.
The room was relatively small, and filled with overstuffed bookshelves. A desk was piled with writings and drawings that looked as if they hadn’t been disturbed in ages. The desk chair was piled in the same way. On the left were windows open to the night wind, and I could just barely the dead city below. There was a brass telescope resting on a tripod, and an elaborate astrolabe. On the right was a hearth with a roaring fire. In front of it were two high-backed padded chairs. Sitting in one was a man.
I almost overlooked him. He was very thin and haggard, as if he had been starved, and was sunk deep into the chair. His gray hair was thin and brittle, his body bent over, and his face skeletal. His hands, which rested on the arms of the chairs, were little more than skin pulled over bones. Even his robe was old and neglected. It had been green, but now it was faded until there was little left other than the sickliest of color. He didn’t look up or even move as we entered. It took me a moment to even see that he was breathing.
He looked like the apparition.
That thought came and lodged in my head, and I couldn’t let it go.
“As you can see,” Alid said, “Singael is not well. I do not know what you need from him, Dalandaras, but you may not get it.”
Dalandaras nodded.
“You should be here more often,” Alid said. “He does not have much time left.”
She spoke in elvish, and it took me a moment to realize that I understood every word.
Dalandaras couldn’t meet her eyes. “I will stay with him,” he said quietly in the common tongue. “Will you show Evalandriel where she can sleep tonight?”
Alid nodded curtly, and left without a backward glance. I hurried to follow. She led me without a word back to the split in the corridor, and up the spiral staircase. From the distance I thought we were well over Singael’s room by the time we came to a landing. There was another long hallway and several doors along the walls. She stopped at one, gestured, and then walked past me without a word.
She had definitely been up here too long.
I pushed open the door. Zarah was just slipping into bed. She had changed into a plain shift that someone had given her. Her clothes had been folded and set on the simple table, her pack and skis in a corner. There was only a small window, and a thick taper for light.
“That wasn’t long at all!” Zarah said. “They’ve left a shift for you too. That Ilia woman was reluctant to hand them over.”
“Do you know where my father and Aerik are?” I took off my pack and put it next to Zarah’s, and then got my boots off.
“Just a door over. They’re not very friendly here.”
“No.” I stripped off my clothes and pulled the shift over my head. It was a relief to pull off the wool and furs, if only for a moment. “Is there anyone else here?”
“None that I could see. It’s strange, for such a big place. It doesn’t really look like an elf place, doesn’t it? I don’t think the Prince or Eliawen or Lorandal fit in here.”
That certainly seemed true.
“Any luck with the grandfather?”
“I don’t think we’re going to have any. He’s not all there in the head.”
“I feel sorry for Dalandaras. I don’t think that woman—Alid?—likes him either.”
“No she doesn’t.” I slipped underneath the covers, and Zarah moved over to make room. “But I don’t think I’ll ask why. I think it’s a sore subject.”
“He’ll probably tell you if you did.”
“Mm.” The pillow was soft underneath my head, and as much as I wanted to see my mother again I didn’t have the strength to call for her, much less find a quiet, safe place to do it. The ache for her was back, the ache that I thought I had conquered months ago. Exploring the ruins had kept me so occupied I hadn’t had time to think of Mother. But now that stability was wobbling.
I closed my eyes, and saw my mother. She reached up from the black ocean depths, tangled in the ropes that dragged her downward. Her eyes wide, she screamed, but only bubbles of air came out.
I opened my eyes. I gasped for breath, and found plenty. I peeled the sheets from my sweaty body, found Zarah next to me, cast in the faint glow of the dawn. I lay there, willing my heart to slow. How long had I been asleep? It could not have been more than several hours but there was no morning grogginess, no half-dazed state.
Zarah didn’t stir as I got out of bed and changed back into my clothes. I left my pack and cloak behind as I slipped out the door. Singael may not like strangers, but he was the one with answers.
I saw and heard no one as I found my way back to his room. Even Dalandaras had disappeared, and there was no one else with Singael. It was as if the night hadn’t passed. He hadn’t changed clothes, or switched chairs. The only hint that he had moved at all was a half-eaten white fruit on a plate on a low table next to his chair.
But what could I ask, when he couldn’t even look at me? I sat next to him. His eyes were on the fire, unfocused.
“I accidentally woke up an apparition,” I said. And how Singael looked like it. Put a crown on his head…
There was no response.
“Your grandson Dalandaras tells me that you know of it.”
Singael blinked, slowly, but there was no other reaction.
“Can you tell me how to imprison him again?”
Nothing. This was useless.
I got up and paced around the room. His books were leather bound and had no titles. The papers on his desk contained little more than chicken scratches; I couldn’t even tell what language they were in. His drawings were wild, uncoordinated scribbles. There were layers of dust on many of them.
Maybe Dalandaras should come around more. Maybe then Singael wouldn’t be in this state.
But the telescope was clean—polished, in fact. Its brass surfaces gleamed. I ran a finger along the scope just to be sure, but it was spotless. I was careful to not touch the dials; I didn’t want to disturb any settings that Singael might have set up.
“Adhanel?” a raspy voice asked.
I turned. Singael had lifted his head, his pale gray eyes on me.
“Adhanel?” he asked again.
I dropped my hand and went to him, sitting in the chair next to him. “I am sorry,” I said in elvish. “I am not Adhanel.”
He stared at me. He didn’t seem to believe me. His eyes searched my face, looking for something. But he didn’t find it, and he went back to looking at his fire. “No…no you are not. Forgive me, it was a mistake.” It took me a moment to realize he was speaking elvish; my understanding of it was becoming effortless.
I could speak it more easily now, too. “Who is she, your Adhanel?”
“She was not mine,” he said. “She was never…mine.”
“Sir,” I said. “I need to ask about an apparition that was imprisoned in the ruins.”
“Why?” He was fading quickly.
“I released it.”
“Not…good…” His eyes lost focus again, his head nodding listlessly.
Dalandaras slipped in. “I thought I heard you,” he said in the common language. “Could you not sleep?”
“I don’t seem to need much of it right now,” I replied.
“Has he awoken?” He looked hopeful as he peered at his grandfather.
“For a moment.” I stood. The fire was making me sweat, and I moved to the windows, and was happy to feel the gentle breeze and hear the faint call of gulls.
Dalandaras followed. “Maybe he will wake for you. What did he speak about?”
“He mentioned a name. Adhanel.”
Dalandaras frowned. “It is a name. It was not my grandmother’s name. I know of no one important called Adhanel.”
“He mistook me for her.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it was someone he knew long ago.”
“I should have asked before I came in. I’m sorry. I know A
lid would not like it.”
“I will take care of Alid. It is better to be here for when he is able to speak. Even if he mistook you for someone else, it is a good sign that he may be able to speak to us today.”
“Is he always like this?”
“Yes, though he has grown worse.” Dalandaras looked out towards the bay. “Do you see the light, far down the coast?”
I could, just barely. It was faint, no stronger than the twinkle of a star at this distance.
“That is the Dagnar lands.”
“And when will Eliawen reach it?”
“Today, possibly even now; we are much faster when we travel without human companions.”
“And when will she return?”
“By tomorrow evening at the latest. Your Fort should have reinforcements in two or three days.” Dalandaras went over to his grandfather and smoothed the old man’s hair back and whispered words too quiet for me to hear. I shifted, looking everywhere but on them. The dead city caught my eye again, as the sun’s light started to move across it. Singael’s telescope wasn’t simply left to fall at whatever angle it wished, but was pointed at the city itself. Careful not to disturb the angle of the telescope, I peered through the eyepiece. It took a moment to figure out how to adjust the dials and bring the view into focus.
It was aimed at a clearing that butted up against the mountain. It looked like a courtyard or city square, but it had been filled in by snow. The walls that peeked out from the snow looked to have some sort of carvings on them, but I could not make them out. The shadows were long and reaching in the dawn sun, and some corners and windows were so dark that I could not make out anything within them. The wind picked up whirls of snow that skimmed across the desolate place, playing games with my mind whenever they crossed a shadow and I thought I saw a figure moving. When I blinked, it was gone. But something made me look again.
“You said most people stay out of the city,” I said.
“Yes,” Dalandaras replied behind me.
Winter's Crown Page 9