She’d had enough of Minard’s baiting of Aemon and his revulsion of her past. “Monk, does it upset you that your harbinger of doom used to be a harlot?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Imagine that. A woman like me, being the Scion from the prophecy, come to kill you all!”
“Keep your voice down, girl,” Wrynric snapped under his breath, glancing around to see if any of the other patrons had heard.
Minard wilted under her gaze, like a lit candle wick burning with no tallow. He tried to say something, but Kara cut him off. “Not all of us were born into wealth or felt the call to serve the divines. Maybe you’d feel better if you knew I worked in a classy establishment, unlike the poor wretches who work Blind Fish Wharf for a single copper. Or maybe you’re so high and mighty you—”
Minard raised his hands in surrender. “Enough, please. Your past is your past and it cannot be undone.”
She continued to glare at him, waiting for him to say more. Finally he said, “Scion, I’m sorry if my reaction offends you but such things are not discussed in the temple. Not because it is forbidden, mind you, but because most of my brethren are dusty old people, long past their prime.”
He reached over to run a hand up his staff. “That’s why I became a warrior monk. Sitting around reading old books and tinkering with lights and cables holds no appeal to me. Put a staff in my hand and give me an enemy and I’m content.” He flexed an arm to show her his impressive muscle girth. “My body is but a tool for Ibilirith. An impressive, strong and handsome one, mind you, but a tool nonetheless.”
The barmaid returned carrying a tray of food and cups of shroom tea and put it on the table in front of them. “Will there be anything—” She gasped. “Your eyes...”
“Leave us, girl,” Wrynric snapped and shoved a handful of coppers into her hand.
“Sorry, m’lord. Her eyes startled me is all. Is she blind?”
“Yes, she is, now leave us.”
The plump woman made a hasty retreat back to the bar, her eyes still on Kara. An odd thought came unbidden to Kara’s mind. Could the barmaid be spying for Kahan?
Kara grimaced. She hated feeling paranoid of strangers but three times now Kahan had almost had her and he’d even known she’d survived the poison. It was as if he was everywhere.
As bad as Kahan was, Herald frightened Kara more. Aemon had said Herald had been the one who threw the javelin that nearly took Kara’s life. Kara didn’t remember that, but she did recall Herald tossing people off the bridge at the Rift Gate and slaughtering the caravaners at the Limestone Caves. Herald was like a rabid dog, unlike her master, who seemed measured and controlled in comparison.
Back at the hidden exit under the temple, Kara had heard Herald cry out “sister” before the falling stone had cut off her voice. What did it mean? Had she been talking to Kara?
Who was she?
Rage poured out of Kara unexpectedly and she squeezed the mug of tea so hard it risked spilling over the table. Not only did she have to deal with the changes wrought on her body, she also had to deal with a self-righteous monk, the light forsaken passkey, dangerous visiondreams and companions who insisted on calling her scion or half-blood instead of her own name.
And on top of all that, a group of black-clad maniacs that would stop at nothing to kill her! It was too much.
Someone had to pay for what had been done to her. She searched the faces in the tavern and finally stopped at the barmaid. That dumb, flushed-faced ox would be a good place to start. I should teach her not to butt her nose into other people’s affairs. When the barmaid returned to take away the dirty dishes, a hot cup of shroom tea to the face should put an end to her nosiness.
No... wait. What am I thinking?
Kara managed to ease up on the mug and gazed down at her hand, as if it were not her own. It seemed like something had taken hold of her for a moment and taken control of her hand. But her hand felt normal now. Perhaps it was only fatigue making her go crazy. Yes, that has to be it. I’m tired, in pain and afraid.
That was more than enough for anyone.
Still, the idea that she would hurt the barmaid troubled her. It reminded her of the rage she'd been overcome with back in Jalarfed, or when she’d struck Aemon outside the Tomb of Ibilirith. What was causing it? What if she killed someone?
Aemon was studying her, his teeth hunting for a bit of fingernail to chew, bruised cheek dark purple in the bright light. He bears my curse too, and still finds room in his heart to love me. She forced herself to smile one of those toothy smiles men found so endearing. “I’m fine, Aemon. I’m just tired and looking forward to this all being over.”
She took a sip of tea and savored the taste. To take her mind off everything, she reached for his hand, looking for comfort in his touch. To her surprise, he snatched it away and glanced at Wrynric who was busy drinking his soup.
“Aemon...”
He refused to make eye contact. “I am sorry, Kara, I cannot.”
“Hurry up and finishing eating,” the old warrior said, wiping soup from his beard with a rag. “We must leave in a few minutes.”
Kara felt hurt and confused. Why wouldn’t Aemon let her touch him? Was he mad at her about something? He knew she’d never meant to hit him. What else could it be?
She recalled the journey along the river the previous two days. Aemon had been a little distant but he’d still allowed her to touch him. Now that she thought of it, he hadn’t touched her like he used to. She’d put it down to him having killed two women, but perhaps there was more to it than that.
Maybe he knows something is wrong with me. Her heart shriveled. And he’s afraid of me.
She held out her hand still, hoping he’d reach for it. Please, Aemon, I need you, for my wound throbs and shadows prowl at the edges of my mind. But he didn’t move, nor did he look at her.
For the first time since he’d pulled her from the river back in the Limestone Caves, she felt he wasn’t there for her. “Aemon...”
Finally, he looked at Kara. She leaned back and covered her mouth, heart fluttering. There was great pain in his eyes, great pain. But also rage.
He is angry at me. Why else would he look at me this way? The passkey grew heavy, like it wanted to crush her under its weight. How nice it would be to curl up somewhere, go to sleep and never wake up.
Five minutes later, they left and Wrynric led them through the dimly lit Twisting Highway toward Celestial Rest. When they were too tired to go any farther, they stopped for the night in a small wayfarer’s inn built inside a sacred-light-lit grotto.
The following day, they set out early and near twelfth hour encountered a group of refugees fleeing Celestial Rest who spoke of dire news. “Roryur save us, the metal beasts from Deep Cave have returned and her sacred city will soon be under siege,” a distraught peasant woman moaned. “A week ago, a patrol of twenty soldiers disappeared near the edge of the Great Dark, they did. One of them, horribly burned he was, aye, made it back to the city and spoke of metal beasts that breathed fire.”
The peasant woman hunched her shoulders and looked from side to side, as if she were about to tell them a conspiratorial secret. “It’s said he died an hour later, still screaming of metal beasts.”
“Has the Priest King sent armed reinforcements to bolster the city?” Wrynric asked.
“Aye, I’ve heard he sent envoys to treat with them but none’ve returned, or so the rumors go.”
“I don’t care about envoys. Has he sent martial reinforcements or not?”
The woman shrank from him. “I don’t know, m’lord. The town is awash with soldiers and I’m but a humble baker. One man-at-arms looks much like another to my eyes.”
Wrynric dismissed her and the refugees shuffled off again, pushing metal handcarts filled with their belongings. The old warrior shook his head. “I hope the city holds out long enough for us to get through.”
The fleeing refugees left Kara’s stomach unsettled. It reminded her of what happened at the Limestone Caves be
fore the stampede that had driven them into Deep Cave. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Kahan was behind them but it was hard to tell people apart in the dim light. Some of the refugees carried torches but the light swayed back and forth as they walked and made it hard to make out their faces.
As the four companions drew closer to Celestial Rest, the crowds fleeing the town grew thick. In the end, they had to fight their way through the torrent of bodies and hold one another so they were not swept away. Eventually, the tide of refugees became a trickle and they made it to the vast chamber where the city stood.
Kara stopped so suddenly, Aemon walked into her and nearly knocked her off her feet. The sight of what lay ahead left her speechless.
“Welcome to Celestial Rest,” Wrynric said and stepped out of the way so they could get a better look. “The Sacred City of the Divine Healer, Roryur.”
Chapter 18
AEMON
None of Aemon’s books did Roryur’s city justice. The descriptions written in them were flat and boring. Celestial Rest was anything but flat and boring.
The golden monolith of the capital he had spent so many hours staring at longingly from his office window was as interesting as cleaning the bank vault in comparison. Celestial Rest was so majestic, he struggled to take it all in.
Three colossal mushrooms stood nearly half a mile high, their massive caps golden brown and pitted with glass windows shining with yellow light. The towering fungus bathed in the phosphorescent glow of the bacterial colonies living on the jagged cavern roof.
Clustered around the base of the living towers, like supplicants praying at the feet of the divines, were buildings and towers ringed by a formidable thirty-foot-high stone palisade. The city stood on an ancient, shallow lake bed, allowing the roots of the three mushrooms to run deep.
In the distance among a mushroom forest like the one at Deep Cave, a great fire consumed all in its path. The mysterious metal army of the enemy burned its way through the forest toward the city. In the distance, thick smoke blanketed the air and slowly obscured the bacterial lights.
Like the peasant woman had said, Celestial Rest would soon be under siege. Water dripped into Aemon’s hair and ran down his face, making his cheek itch. The fabled rain called Roryur’s Tears dripped from the stalactites high above, as if the cavern itself wept for what was to come.
“That is the same enemy we saw at Deep Cave,” Aemon said, heart thudding in his ears. “When they get to the city, they will destroy it.”
Minard got to one knee. “Ibilirith, oh great Machine Mother, protect Roryur’s people and your sacred lights. For darkness gathers at the edge of light and seeks to extinguish us all.”
Wrynric lowered his face, his expression grim. “There’s nothing we can do for the city but be thankful most of the common folk have fled already. If the soldiers defending it had any sense, they’d flee too.”
Aemon stared at the distant fire, its flames illuminating the distant darkness with a savage, fell glow. As he visualized seeing a second city fall to ruins, he closed his eyes and sobbed. “Then what do we do? We should at least tell them to run or do something to try and help.”
“No,” Wrynric growled. “We must get the half-blood to Safehold and then take her to the Dead City. The sooner we get her there, the sooner she can enlist the Metal Man’s help to fight the enemy and stop this madness.”
“Then there’s no time to waste,” Minard said. “We must hurry, because that forest won’t slow them long.”
The old warrior led them deeper into the cavern, following the carved road toward the city. When they passed an abandoned guard tower, Wrynric walked backward to address them. “Celestial Rest is made up of two parts, Upper and Lower City. We must enter Lower City and go to the Telmed Gate. From there, we head to the edge of the cavern and enter the Nether.” He gestured toward the enemy in the distance. “I’d avoid leading you into the city if I could, but the only other entrance to the Nether around here is on the other side of them. That path is easier to traverse than the one we must now take, but obviously, it’s closed to us.”
Soon they passed under the edge of the great mushroom caps. The living roof sheltered them from Roryur’s Tears and blocked the greenish light from the bacteria. Though the rain had made Aemon’s hair and clothes damp, it had refreshed him.
As they neared Lower City, they witnessed controlled chaos everywhere. Soldiers hastily erected metal sheets over large cracks in the wall while officers shouted orders over the cacophony of hammers, raised voices and booted feet. Large parts of the defenses had lapsed into disrepair. Cracks and missing chunks of stone were all over the place, and some of the towers were little more than mounds of rubble. Clearly, Celestial Rest’s leaders had not given the defense of their city much attention for many years.
Aemon bet they regretted that decision now.
I suppose I cannot blame them. This part of Stelemia has been at peace for many years. According to the banking intelligence reports, the only threat Celestial Rest faced was the odd incursion of a beast or the occasional raid by pale-skinned brigands who made their home in the Great Dark.
Still, the state of the defenses was yet another sign Stelemian society had become complacent over time. For too long, its leaders had been focused inward on selfish short-term goals like enriching themselves or fighting petty factional conflicts like the houses at Deep Cave had done.
Now Aemon’s people were threatened like they had never been before. Did Stelemia have the strength to brush off the rust and decay of centuries of stagnation to fight for its very existence?
I hope, for all our sakes, it does.
Aemon put his arm through Kara’s. “Hold onto me. I do not want to lose you like I did back at the River of the Gods.”
She stared down at his arm as if she was not sure what it was. Then her eyes searched his. He bit the inside of his cheek. She is probably thinking why am I holding her now, when I would not back at the Bellhole Tavern. I wanted to, Kara, I really wanted to, but—
A giant bell tolled from somewhere in Upper City, drowning out all other sound. Aemon knew of the bell. He had read it only tolled once a year, during the Den’ Vozrozhdeniya Celebration.
That special day signified the rebirth of a new year; now it signaled the final hours of Roryur’s city.
The bell drew Kara’s attention away from him. When it stopped ringing, she said, “These people. They need to flee.”
“They are soldiers. If they run, they would be branded as deserters and executed.”
She wiped water from her forehead. “You saw what the enemy did at Deep Cave. What chance have they got?”
Before he could come up with an answer, they reached the gate and were met by an iron spear point held by a guard who looked eager to find any excuse to kill them.
“Who are you?” the guard demanded.
Wrynric stepped forward. “Travelers. We need to get through the city before the enemy arrives.”
The guard looked each of them over. “Old man, you look like you could handle yourself in a fight.” He nodded toward Minard. “And a monk of Ibilirith is always welcome here, especially one who wields a staff.”
Next he focused on Kara. “You, blind woman, you can help the healers. They’ll need all the helping hands they can get when the enemy arrives.” He gestured at Aemon with the sharp point of his spear. “And that runt of a boy can carry buckets of water to douse fires.”
Aemon’s hackles rose. Runt. How dare you!
Wrynric spoke before Aemon could tell the guard to drown himself in Crystal Lake. “We’re not here to fight. We have pressing business elsewhere. The sooner you let us through, the sooner you can go back to defending the wall.”
“Eh, what business is that? There’s little beyond Roryur’s city except the approaching enemy and the Great Dark. No one would be foolish enough to come here while...”
The guard stroked the gray-shot stubble on his chin. “Has the Priest King sent you? You kn
ow what happened to the last lot of fools he sent out here to treat with the enemy, right?”
“No, we were not sent by the Priest King,” Wrynric replied. “We’re here on personal business. I don’t have time to argue. We must be allowed to enter the city and pass through the Telmed Gate. Time is running out.”
The two men glared at one another for a long moment, then the guard lowered his spear. “Bah, what do I care if some moronic fools want to go to their deaths?” He stepped out of the way and narrowed his eyes. “If I find out you’re here to aid the enemy, I’ll see that you’re handed over to the resident Inquisitor. You can’t imagine what she’ll do to you.”
Wrynric motioned the others to follow, then led them through the gate. They found the city filled with soldiers, squashed in almost shoulder to shoulder, their iron armor reflecting golden-bulbed sacred lights illuminating the streets. Officers bellowed orders to their subordinates while messenger boys, squires and gray-robed healers tended to their duties.
A knight in full-plate armor knelt before a ten-foot-high statue of Divine Roryur, who looked down upon him with a serene, timeless expression. Two more knights sat on a stone bench nearby, letting their squires polish their boots. Each had the crossed dagger insignia of House Filo emblazoned on their shields.
House Filo stood among the wealthiest and most powerful noble houses in Stelemia and Aemon suspected they might be one of the secret owners of the Royal Stelemian Bank. They certainly had the wealth, influence and political acumen for it.
At least they had taken the threat to Celestial Rest seriously enough to send some of their knights to defend it. No, that was being too generous to a greedy, corrupt and murderous house like Filo. They were there to protect their business interests. The house owned farmland, a construction business and several warehouses in Celestial Rest. If the city fell, they would lose it all.
Wrynric led them down the main thoroughfare, seemingly oblivious to anything but his end goal. They rounded a corner and almost ran into a company of men-at-arms pushing their way through the crowds of soldiers and messenger boys filling the street. Aemon dragged Kara against the wall of an abandoned jeweler to let them pass. Wrynric and Minard joined them, and watched as the armored men approached.
Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel Page 27
