by T. A. White
“They also have people on the walls,” Shea replied.
“Night like this, it’ll be easy to spot us on the bridge,” he observed.
In this instance, the moon’s light was more of a hindrance than a help, making them easy to see and destroying any chance of secrecy.
“That’s why we’re not going out the front,” Shea said with a roguish grin. She stepped back, letting the shadows swallow her.
She slipped along the stables and between two stone slabs in the wall. Once on the other side, she made sure she stuck to the shadow the wall cast, following it along the field to a small spot next to the wall. She knelt and lifted a heavy wooden cover. Eamon and Phillip rushed to help and together they opened it just wide enough so they could slip into the hole it revealed.
Shea was the first to drop in, moving several paces into the narrow corridor. Once she was sure she was far enough from the opening not to be seen, she struck a match, lighting a candle she pulled from her pack.
She held it up, illuminating the space as the others slipped inside.
“Do you want us to cover this back up?” Phillip asked.
“Leave it. I’ll need to use it to get back into the Keep,” Shea responded. If it was covered while she was still down here, it was unlikely she’d be able to move it enough to slide back through.
“What is this place?” Fiona asked.
“An older part of the Keep,” Shea responded. The corridor was damp, and the floor mostly covered in dirt, but the walls were strong and obviously well built. “What you see above was built on top of the old one.”
“How does everything not cave in?” Fiona asked, her eyes wary as she looked at the structure like it might crumble at any moment.
Shea shrugged. “It happens every so often. I’d watch your step. This place has several spots where the floor has given way.”
The Trateri’s faces turned cautious as they moved with exaggerated care.
It was several minutes later when they saw the first proof of Shea’s warning as she waved her candle over a gaping maw in the floor. The stones, weakened by time, had given way to the hall below. Shea peered over the edge, noting another passageway similar to theirs.
They skirted it, working their way through the passage, one stone at a time until they came to a spiral staircase that would lead them well beneath the cliffs.
The group was silent as they stuck to the edge of the stairs closest to the wall. The air had an oppressive quality that clung to the skin.
“This reminds me of the caverns,” someone said in a quiet voice.
They weren’t wrong. The air had the same oppressive weight, as if the inhabitants who had disappeared so long ago still walked these halls waiting to drag the living into the afterlife with them.
“We’re almost there,” Shea said.
“Where?” a voice she didn’t recognize asked, a hint of frustration in it.
“Enough questions,” Eamon said. “Quit acting like daisies scared of your own shadow. If she says this is the best option, then it is.”
Their steps echoed in the passageway, each small movement reverberating off the walls.
“Maybe, but I’ll be very glad to be out of this place,” Roscoe said.
After that, they were quiet again until they reached the bottom of the staircase. The ground here was uneven and filled with boulders. Shea was careful as she picked her way through, finally reaching a door that hung off its hinges.
She wrestled it open, yanking and pulling until she created a large enough opening for even Eamon to slip through, then she peered through, holding the candle slightly in front of her.
The light from the flame didn’t reach far, making the darkness around the edges seem even more impenetrable.
Black obsidian spires reflected back at her, glittering in the light. Nothing else moved out there. Didn’t mean there wasn’t anything, but she judged it a risk worth taking.
The passageway had dropped them right into the chasm under the bridge. Above them, stone supports kept the bridge up, and above it the Keep towered on the thin edge of the cliff.
Shea stepped back and stuck the candle in a holder beside the door for her return journey. She’d have liked to take it with her but knew there was too great a chance of someone above seeing its light.
“Alright, let’s go,” Shea said. She slipped through first.
This far down, the sky was a narrow strip against the hulking forms of the cliff.
Shea walked several feet into the ravine, listening as she let her eyes adjust to the dark. Her feet crunched over thick rock, and she was grateful for the thick soles of her boots, since it sounded like walking over broken glass.
“Watch your step,” she said in a low voice as the others joined her. “This stuff will cut you to pieces if you fall on it.”
She moved carefully around one of the thicker spikes, just beginning to make out the dark shapes around her—some taller than a horse.
She ignored the crunching under her feet, trying to step carefully without too much noise. While they were a fair distance below the keep, she feared the narrow walls would make sound echo.
The spires were an oddity that no one had ever been able to adequately explain. Made from a smooth and glossy black substance, it looked like a mirror but lacked a reflection.
“These are a convenient defensive feature,” Fiona said.
“You could push your enemy right into the ravine and impale them,” Ghost agreed.
It would be more impressive if the fall alone wouldn’t kill most things, making the spikes a superfluous feature.
Shea was halfway across the field when a brief yelp startled her, causing her feet to slide. She caught herself, just barely preventing her body from pitching headfirst into the obsidian spikes.
“Quiet, man,” Eamon hissed.
“There’s something out there. It touched me,” was the snapped response.
Noise from above drew Shea’s attention.
“Shh,” she waved her hands, signaling for them to take cover.
She tucked herself under the tilted form of a spike just in time, as voices from above reached them.
“Did you hear that?” Reece asked. It sounded like he’d leaned over the edge of the bridge.
“Could be the wind?” someone responded.
Shea cursed the man who had made the sound and the fact that her cousin was the one to hear it. He was like her, unlikely to write something odd off until he investigated for himself.
Eamon’s grim face looked back at her from where he hugged the underside of his own spike. He shook his head. She sighed. Nothing to do but wait to see if the mission was blown.
“Get me a light,” she heard Reece say, the sound faint.
Shit. She gestured wildly at the rest. They crowded closer to whatever cover they could, moments before a torch landed in the midst of them.
The yellow light cast the ravine into sharp detail. A rock-sized creature crouched not far from where the torch had landed, the same black obsidian spikes decorating its back. It had a long face and beady black eyes. It let out a high-pitched grumbling noise at the torch before waddling away, the glass spikes on its back reflecting the light.
“Nothing there. Probably one of those creatures mating caused whatever you heard,” the same voice from before said.
“I suppose,” Reece said, sounding unwilling to believe it.
The torch sputtered and went out, plunging the chasm back into darkness. Shea waved everyone forward. They needed to get moving before Reece took it into his head to come down and investigate further.
The group hastened across, reaching the narrow, winding path that clung to the cliff’s side. Roscoe, who’d caused the near miss, gave her a shame-faced look before ducking past her.
The rest of the journey up the cliff was one of anxiety and anticipation. At least on Shea’s part. The rest of the group were silent, whatever thoughts they
might have, hidden under the complete focus needed to not stumble off the side and plummet to their death.
Worse, they had to move quickly and quietly so Shea would have time to get back to her room before anyone noticed her missing.
It was almost a relief to crest the cliff and be greeted by the sight of the mist. Shea tossed them the rope she’d brought, waiting as they secured it to their waists, and then they were off, their forms disappearing into the damp embrace of the fog.
Night and day had no effect on the mist. It was as if there was a faint hint of sun always in the sky. Consequently, that meant a faint light made the going easy. Unlike her last time through, there were no monsters waiting to eat her.
They passed through its embrace quickly, its tendrils sliding away as soon as they stepped out the other side.
Shea took a deep breath as the view of the mountain valley came into view. They were slightly further down the valley than where they’d left the other team, but close enough that Eamon and the rest shouldn’t have any trouble hooking up with them.
The others untied themselves from the rope and Shea took it, wrapping it up and stuffing it in her pack while they got their bearings.
Eamon walked up to her. “You had better head back now. We should be safe enough from here.”
Shea and he stood shoulder-to-shoulder looking out over the valley, mountains rising sharply on either side.
“What odd turns our lives take,” Shea said. “Not too long ago I would have been going with you.”
Part of her longed to do that still. It went against the grain to send someone else into danger. She’d prefer to take the risk rather than see her friends die.
“You could still come with us,” Eamon said, his face a shadow as it turned to look at her in night.
She shook her head. Her reasons for not going were still relevant. There were things only she could do back at the Keep. “Not this time.”
It was a good feeling, a relief. She’d thought she’d feel more regret than she did, but already her focus was returning to what was behind her rather than what was in front of her.
She dug through her pack, pulling out the primers and maps she’d spent half the afternoon tracking down and negotiating for.
“Here, these should help.” She handed him four primer books and two sets of maps.
“What are they?” he asked, taking them from her.
“Basic descriptions of beasts you might run into. There should be something about mythologicals in there too. The information on the latter might be a little spotty, so trust your judgement. The packets are maps.”
His whistle was almost soundless in the dark. “How did you manage that?”
“I still have a few allies. They’re not the best maps, but they should help.”
Eamon’s movements were quiet as he pulled his pack forward and tucked the items away. “Thanks, Shea. I appreciate it.”
She nodded. “Just make sure you don’t get dead. I haven’t spent all this time training you to have to start again.”
His chuckle rumbled through the dark, and she glanced away with a smile, her gaze falling on Phillip’s slim build.
“About our former team member, did you know about his little surprise?” she asked.
She sensed the shake of his head rather than saw it. “Not until he showed up saying he was on the roster. Braden assigned him to this mission.”
“Be careful of him,” she warned.
“I don’t think we’re the ones who have to worry,” Eamon said.
Probably not. From what she’d put together, the Stray Wind served Fallon with unquestioning loyalty, but they’d been wrong before. She just didn’t want Eamon to find himself with a knife in his back for his trouble.
“That may be, but it’s better to be cautious than dead,” Shea said.
Eamon grunted in agreement. He held out his hand and Shea took it. “I’ll say goodbye here. It’s been an honor, Telroi.”
After a brief squeeze, he let go, stepping back and turning to the people waiting for him.
“Good luck, my friend,” Shea said in a soft voice.
She really hoped this wasn’t the last time she saw him.
She waited until the five made their way down the valley before she stepped back, letting the mist obscure her vision.
She wasted no time, turning and running back the way she came, senses on alert for any stray sound that didn’t belong. Her steps were sure as she felt her way through the mist with the assurance of someone who’d done it a thousand times before.
She arrived back at her path down the cliff in half the time it took her to get the others out. Here, she slowed, not wanting to take the chance of tripping and sailing over the edge.
Stranger things had happened. Once, she’d led a mission with a fellow pathfinder who’d stepped wrong and literally fallen off the side of a mountain. In that instance, the drop had been mild enough that he’d managed to roll a fair way but didn’t die. His arm was broken and he had some impressive bruises in the end, but somehow, he’d managed to survive. She doubted she’d be so lucky tonight if she repeated his mistakes.
Just as she made it a quarter of the way down, the skies opened up and rain began to fall. Internally, she cursed her luck and moved a little faster. She’d hope to make it through the gorge before rain began.
The cliff path became muddy and slippery and she was forced to slow again. All the while, the worry that the chasm would flood ate at her.
The sight of the chasm’s floor made her careless. A moment’s inattention sent her feet sliding out from under her. She hit the ground with a thud, sliding down the path and into the gorge. Shards of the glass-like rock bit into her hands and back.
Of all the stupid, beginner mistakes, she cursed herself as she staggered to her feet. She was lucky her fall happened at the bottom of the trail. Anywhere else, she’d most likely be dead. If the fall hadn’t killed her, the sharp spires would.
She stumbled across the field, limping just a tiny bit, her right leg bruised and hurting. She opened the door to the hidden passageway and staggered inside, slamming it shut behind her.
There, she stood in the dark, momentarily surprised at the lack of light. The candle should have been going strong still. It had enough fuel to last for several more hours.
She groped along the wall, relying on touch more than sight. Her fingers met cool stone as she slid them around, taking small steps so she could reach more of the wall. Finally, her wandering hands glanced against metal and wood.
She frowned as she felt around. This was where she’d left the candle but nothing waited in it. Her candle was gone.
She stepped back and frowned. That couldn’t be right.
She groped in her back pocket, thanking to whatever deity was up there that she’d stuffed a set of matches in a waterproof bag. It was a trick her father had hounded into her head when she was younger. The habit had stuck.
She lit one and held it up, its small light barely doing anything in the dark. She hadn’t been wrong. The candle really was missing.
She turned in the small space, the realization that she wasn’t alone down here making her cautious.
She remained in place for a long moment, unsure what to do. The idea of an unknown entity wandering the corridors at the same time she did was not an appealing one. Her instincts begged her to go back outside, make her way across the spire field and up the cliff where she could use the bridge to get back into the Keep.
She tugged open the door again and looked outside. The sound of rushing water greeted her. The rain of before was coming down harder.
Going back out there meant crossing a gorge during a rain storm, not to mention making her way up a slippery cliff and then blowing any chance of secrecy, making everything she’d done tonight pointless.
Yeah, she didn’t think she was going back that way.
That left forward.
Her shoulders rose
and fell. She checked to make sure her shortsword was still at her hip. At least she was armed.
She pulled a candle out of her pack and lit it, moving forward, her motions cautious and her eyes alert as she made her way through the passages.
The drip drop of water was a constant companion as she backtracked to the point where she’d entered.
A murmur of voices reached her, and she extinguished the candle, withdrawing her sword in the next movement. She glided forward on quiet feet, following the faint sounds.
It didn’t take long for someone else’s candlelight to make her journey that much easier. It was coming from above.
Shea craned her head to see better. She was in an empty space, what must be an old tower or great hall. There were openings in the wall that must once have been stairs or a balcony.
It was on one of those balconies that she spotted something—a creature that glowed faintly as it drifted several feet above the ground. It captured her attention, and her need for speed was forgotten as she remained rooted in place.
Shea froze, fear creeping up her back and trying to grab hold of her throat. Fear and a sense of desolation.
A ballyhoo. A creature that had once haunted her nightmares. Something often featured in bedtime stories to scare little girls into eating their vegetables. Said to be made of moonbeams and shadows, it ate the core of a person’s essence, sucked it down, leaving them a living husk.
There was a slight movement next to it, drawing Shea’s attention despite the instinctive need to run and not look back. A figure clad in a long cloak, hood pulled up to conceal the face, stood next to the ballyhoo.
How? The ballyhoo should have gulped down anything human without pause. The fact that it seemed to be conspiring was unbelievable.
She backed away cautiously, making her way to the main tunnel, then moving as quickly as she could to her escape point.
Forget subterfuge. Her mother and her people needed to know there was a ballyhoo under the Keep.
There was a short screech that echoed off the rocks seconds after she reached the path out of there. Shea knew without having to look that the ballyhoo had caught her scent. She pushed herself faster, barely avoiding the hole in the floor as she rushed past.
