And then what? Would he travel hundreds of miles, alone, back to the Southern Trough? Without Dela, there would be a war he’d have no choice but to fight in. His tales of a Dragonsayer, and that dragons were still alive, might be good around a campfire at night, but they wouldn’t change anything.
Without Dela ... He couldn’t bring himself to comprehend such a thing. The world would be a far worse place without her, and his entire chest felt as though it were crushing beneath the pain of the possibility. No, he hadn’t given up on her. She was strong. She would have survived.
He rounded the small cove to spot a figure folded over one of the poles, bobbing up and down in the shallows. Warsgra broke into a run, leaping through the waves. Long black hair moved with the flow of the water. Orergon. He reached the Moerian and grabbed him by the tops of his arms and pulled him onto the shore. Orergon coughed, and he half sat, his hand covering his mouth.
“Dela,” the Moerian managed to croak.
Warsgra awkwardly patted him on the back. “I haven’t found her yet. Do you think you can walk?”
He nodded. “Yes. What about Vehel?”
“I haven’t seen him either.”
“You don’t think—”
“No.” Warsgra cut him off. He didn’t want anyone giving voice to the heartbreaking possibility that one of them didn’t make it.
Warsgra was only a little taller than Orergon, though Orergon was of a slighter build, so he was able to support the Moerian while they kept moving, allowing Orergon to slowly regain his strength. He kept going, moving around the coastline, watching out to sea for any sign of Dela and Vehel. He had no idea if he was even going in the right direction. What if they’d been swept along the other side of the coast, and were dying right now, while he walked the wrong way? Orergon seemed to grow stronger as they walked, until the Moerian untangled himself from Warsgra’s arm.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I can walk.”
Warsgra cupped his hands to his mouth. “Dela! Vehel!”
Orergon joined the shouting. They took it in turns, calling out and then listening for a reply.
They could be drowned, or taken by the sea serpent to feed to its young.
“There!” Orergon clutched Warsgra’s forearm to get his attention to where he pointed.
“Vehel!”
The Elvish prince was a sodden bundle of sand and seaweed. But as they ran, feet pounding on the sand, he coughed and began to sit up.
“You’re okay,” Warsgra said in relief.
Vehel nodded. “Yes, I think so. Where’s Dela?”
They looked between them. None of them knew, and none of them wanted to give voice to the worst possibility of all.
That they’d lost her for good this time.
Chapter Twelve
Dela
A VOLLEY OF COUGHING erupted from her lungs, catapulting her from unconscious to conscious. Dela automatically moved to cover her mouth with her hand, but found she couldn’t.
Something was on her. Something holding her down. No, not something. Lots of somethings, like a hundred tiny hands.
She blinked open her eyes, which streamed from the saltwater and the bright sunlight. She tried to piece together what had happened. The raft. The sea serpent. The ocean. She couldn’t remember anything after that, but she heard waves crashing on shore, and beneath her body felt scratchy, as though she was lying on sand.
Her vision cleared as she blinked the tears away furiously, and she was able to look around.
Dela stifled a scream. Numerous little furry faces peered down at her, their brown eyes inquisitive and bright with intelligence. Their noses were completely flat—their nostrils two black holes in their faces—and when they pulled their lips back, they revealed pointed, yellowed teeth. There were at least twenty of them—small primates, each about the size of a small dog—standing on their hind legs. Their little hands had hold of her, small fingers wrapped around her arms and legs, and even supporting the back of her head.
Fear shot through her, and she let out a shriek. She struggled, flailing both her arms and legs, trying to dislodge the animals, but they chattered to each other in a strange kind of language, and instead of letting go and running away, they lifted her.
Panic increased her struggles, her whole body a writhing mess of thrashing arms and legs, but there were too many of them. If she managed to shake off one or two, another couple of creatures took their places. Their little hands were all over her, strangely human against her skin, as though she were being carried by twenty tiny, furry children.
Dela opened her mouth and screamed, praying the others were nearby and would come to her rescue. But she didn’t even know what had happened to them after she’d been thrown in the water. She thought she’d caught glimpses of the raft coming apart, but what happened after that, she had no idea. What if the worst had happened and now she was completely alone? There would be no one who could help her.
The monkeys carried her away from the beach and into the jungle at the center of the island. She remembered the large granite outcropping that rose from the very middle. Was that where they were taking her?
What did these creatures want with her? They hadn’t hurt her, and didn’t seem vicious, but they definitely had plans.
Dela screamed and struggled, though it did no good. Her throat hurt from the seawater she must have swallowed, and she’d already been exhausted from the paddling and the subsequent near drowning. She wanted to keep fighting, but her body didn’t comply. With the initial burst of adrenaline now fading away, replaced with a deep-seated exhaustion that made her want to sleep for a week, she eventually gave up her struggles and allowed the creatures to carry her. Her fighting wasn’t doing any good, anyway, and she should reserve her strength in case a new opportunity for escape arose wherever it was they were taking her.
“Who are you?” she croaked at them. “What do you want?”
It felt crazy to talk to animals, but she figured it was worth a go. The monkey closest to her head looked down into her face and gibbered in response, pulling its lips back from their teeth and exposing the white points in a strange kind of grin.
They were moving higher into the island. Her back bumped against rock, sending pain jolting through her spine, and she sucked air in over her teeth. Her instincts had been correct when she’d thought they were bringing her to the rocky outcropping in the center. The creatures had to adjust their hold on her as they pulled her higher, needing to lift her in some places, chattering to each other in their strange language, as one tried to organize the others.
“You can always put me down,” she suggested to them, though she had no idea if they could even understand her. “I can walk from here.”
But she only received an angry chatter from the one who appeared to be doing the organizing. It looked as though she just had to put up with the bumps and jolts as they carried her higher and higher, climbing the rocky face. Eventually, she was able to twist her head enough to catch sight of the tops of the trees surrounding them—a sea of green—and beyond that lay the ocean, and, farther still, the mainland where they’d come from.
Her heart tightened with grief. Where were the others? She missed them as though someone had cut off a limb. She deeply regretted their attempt to get across the ocean now. They should have stayed right where they were, together and safe. In that moment, she didn’t even care that the rest of Xantearos was going to be at war. She didn’t care about all the thousands of lives that would be lost. She wanted to be selfish and keep Vehel and Orergon and Warsgra to herself. They could have been happy, the four of them, creating a new life for themselves up here. But she knew that could never have been in their future. At some point, the real world would have intruded, and what would a human be doing with a Norc, a Moerian, and an Elvish prince? It would never have been allowed.
Not that it mattered now. She was probably about to be given to some monkey God as a sacrifice, and Vehel, Orergon, and Warsgra might be lost at th
e bottom of the ocean or eaten by a sea serpent.
Finally, they reached the top, and to her surprise, the monkeys released their hold on her. She hit the ground with a thud. She could still feel the press of tiny fingers against her skin, an imprint she thought she’d probably relive in her nightmares, too.
Not wasting any time, she scrambled to her feet and then away from the creatures. But there was a drop behind her, and she barely caught herself before she toppled back over it, her arms pin-wheeling to keep her balance. She managed to throw herself forward, her hands hitting the rock. Her pulse raced, her breath leaving her lungs in small snatches. That had been close.
The monkeys all looked at her, as though making sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid again, and then they turned and bounded off back down the rock, their tails creating tall question marks in the air as they went.
Okay, so it didn’t look like she was going to be sacrificed to any monkey Gods—at least not today.
She took a moment to assess where they’d brought her. To her surprise, she found herself standing in front of an ornate door embedded in the rock. It was made out of a dark wood, but showed no signs of wear and tear from being out here, at the highest point of the island, where it must have suffered numerous storms. The top was curved in an arch, and engraved into the surface of the door were detailed carvings. At first, she thought they were just swirls and patterns, but as she looked closer she realized the swirls made up the eyes, noses, and mouths of multiple faces of all different sizes. As she leaned in closer to get a better look, one set of eyes closed and opened again in a blink.
Dela staggered back, her hand clamped to her mouth. Had she just seen that? Or had it been her imagination? But as she dared to look again, she saw movement all over the door—the flaring of nostrils, the twisting of lips, the widening of a mouth in a yawn. They were subtle, but they were definitely there.
Somehow, the door was alive.
There was only one person she knew of who lived on the island who would be behind a door like this, and that had been the person they’d risked their lives to come and see.
The Seer.
Her heart picked up pace, but for a different reason this time. That must be who was behind the door, and if so, had she sent the monkeys to come and collect her? Did the Seer know she was here?
With a trembling hand, she reached forward. There was no knocker, so she balled her fist and rapped her knuckles on a part of the wood that was free from any carved faces. Breath bated, she listened hard, trying to hear a voice from within, but instead of anyone responding, the door swung open, revealing darkness beyond.
“Hello?” Dela called.
Her voice echoed back at her, though she was unable to tell what would have created the echo. The piece of rock the door was embedded into was smallish—an oblong shaped boulder. It was impossible for her voice to bounce back at her as though she’d called into a vast cavern.
Still unable to see anything, Dela took a cautious step forward, edging into the space beyond. Her eyes strained, trying to get used to the lack of light, after having been in the daylight for so long.
From somewhere in the depths of the darkness, a voice called, “Welcome.”
And behind her, the door slammed shut.
Chapter Thirteen
Vehel
A SCREAM HAD COME FROM the west side of the island, breaking through the trees and snatching all of their attention.
Vehel looked to the others in alarm. “Was that Dela?”
Orergon frowned. “It must have been. Who else would scream like that?”
“If Vehel wasn’t here,” Warsgra said, his eyebrows lifted, “he’d have been my next choice.”
“This isn’t the time for smart remarks. If she’s screaming like that, she must be in trouble.”
They were already moving as they bickered, breaking into a run.
Another cry sounded, but from deeper into the island this time.
Vehel looked around helplessly. “Which way?”
“It sounds like she’s on the move,” Orergon said.
Warsgra’s brows pulled down. “Or someone else has got her. Why else would she cry out like that?”
Vehel turned to the Moerian. He was the natural tracker in their group. “Orergon, which way?”
“This way, I think.”
Orergon led them deeper into the island. They navigated a steep slope, and then the foliage gave way to craggy rock, and they found themselves climbing.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Vehel asked him, his breath heaving in and out of his lungs.
“No, I’m not,” Orergon snapped, unlike him. “Do you have any better suggestions?”
A scream came again, and they all stopped and looked up.
“That was her,” Vehel said. “I’m sure of it.”
Warsgra rubbed his hand across his beard. “What’s she doing all the way up there?”
Vehel’s worried deepened. “We’d better find out.”
The climb was hard. Physically, Vehel was spent, but he forced himself to keep going for Dela’s sake. Not long ago, he’d thought she might be dead, and his relief at hearing her gave him a second spurt of energy. She’d screamed, though, which meant they were probably going to find her in some kind of trouble. He reached inside himself, feeling for the ball of magic—his power source—at the center of his chest. He’d not used the magic recently, but still he didn’t feel it was back to its full level. He hadn’t even had time to try to use what he had when the sea serpent hit the bottom of the raft, breaking it apart and sending Dela flying into the water. It had all happened so fast, he hadn’t even had time to think. And then he’d found himself in the water as well, and his need to not drown overcame any ability to focus on his magic to help them. If they reached Dela now and she was in danger, he’d use every last little ounce to save her.
They climbed higher. Vehel’s thighs burned, and sweat trickled off his forehead and into his eyes. At least this rock was solid and there were no signs of crusted over sludge or smoke pouring from the top. But he’d definitely heard Dela scream, and that meant there was something dangerous out here. He just had no idea what that something was.
“We’re almost at the top,” Warsgra grunted between breaths.
Orergon frowned. “There’s something up there.”
Vehel’s heart lifted. “Dela?”
“No, something else.”
They reached the flat top of the rock. The view across the rest of the island, the ocean, and back to the mainland stretched as far as the eye could see. But one thing blocked the view. In the middle was an upright rectangular box of stone, and embedded into its center was an ornate door. The door was made of dark wood, and carvings of numerous faces covered the front.
Vehel knew what they’d found right away. “The Seer.”
Orergon glanced over at him. “The Seer? You think the Seer is in there, and that she’s taken Dela?”
He nodded. “I think that’s exactly what’s happened. We came here to find the Seer, only the Seer found Dela first.”
Warsgra stormed up to the door and pulled his axe from his back. “Then I’ll break it down and get her back again.”
Vehel lifted his hand. “I wouldn’t do that.”
He scowled. “Why not? Don’t you want to get her back?”
“Of course, I do. I’d lay down my life for her. But if that door is owned by the Seer, there’s no way an axe is going to work. It’ll be cast in a spell, and you’ll probably do more injury to yourself than to the door.”
Warsgra glared at the door. “So, I can’t smash it down?”
“No. I suggest we do things the more civilized way.”
Vehel stepped forward, moving past Warsgra, who begrudgingly took a step back. “We’re not here to cause anyone harm. The Seer will know Dela is special, and that we’re here to help her.”
Warsgra’s green eyes narrowed. “Then why did Dela scream?”
“
I don’t know,” Vehel admitted. “It might have been completely unrelated.”
“Or it might not.”
Vehel ignored Warsgra. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. To his surprise, as much as anyone’s, the door creaked open.
Vehel didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the shouts of alarm from the others behind him, he stepped through the door and into the darkness. Though he knew it shouldn’t be possible to keep going, considering the size of the space the door was embedded into, he recognized magic when he saw it.
Movement came behind him. Warsgra and Orergon had followed him in as well. He kept going, walking deeper into the cavern-like interior. His eyes began to grow used to the dark, and now he saw they weren’t in complete darkness. A faint luminescence came from the ceiling, like a type of bug, or perhaps plant, emitting light clung to the rock. Directly in front of him, a massive staircase wound its way down from the floor, heading deeper into the rock face they had ascended.
“This is impossible,” came Warsgra’s mutter from behind him.
Vehel kept going. “Only in the realms of what we’ve been taught is possible.”
“After everything that’s happened,” Orergon said, “I’d have thought there was no such thing as impossible anymore.”
Vehel didn’t answer, but in his heart he believed Orergon was right. Look at everything that had happened so far. They’d crossed a distance in an instant when they’d been thrown from the Southern Pass, they’d brought Orergon back from the dead, and dragons were still alive. Vehel wasn’t going to limit himself to what he’d been told any longer. They needed to think bigger than that if each of them was going to somehow make a difference to the world.
A second source of light came from the bottom of the huge, winding staircase, though it was dim. Vehel led the way, treading carefully, not wanting to slip and tumble to the bottom. His clothes were still wet from the dunk in the ocean, and seawater dripped onto the floor. The footsteps of the others followed.
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 31
