by Jann Rowland
“And how long will it take to reach this destination of which you will say nothing?”
“Not long,” Quicksilver said, persisting in his infuriating vagueness. “For now, I suggest you sleep, as we will be rising early again tomorrow.”
Then he departed, leaving behind a fuming Tierra and an annoyed River.
“You know,” River said, “I am getting to the point where I heartily dislike that one.”
“Only now?” Tierra asked.
A little while later, Tierra lay in her tent, wishing she could stand up all night and stare at the stars shining in the night sky.
The worst part of this journey was the distance that had sprung up between her and Skye. She hated not being able to hear his voice in her head. Their bond had become a great comfort to her. It was as if they had been connected for the entirety of their lives rather than only six weeks. Tierra longed for the day when they would once again be close enough that the connection between them would be restored.
The next day was again the same sort of monotonous repetition to which they had been subjected since being captured. As a result, it was with a hint of desperation that Tierra turned to the one subject she could discuss openly with River while being certain of provoking a response.
“What do you think this will do to your wedding preparations, River?”
River turned to look at Tierra and said with disgust, “Delay them, of course. There is so much to do, and there is no telling when I will be back to assist in completing it. The timing is irksome, to say the least.”
“Your fiancé must be worried about you,” Tierra said.
“I doubt our jailers give two dirt-specks as to how Basil feels,” River said, “but I am certain he is not in a good state. His father is probably particularly out of sorts, fretting about the potential loss of our alliance due to my disappearance.”
“Aunt Terrace must be worried as well,” Tierra said quietly. She chose not to comment on the feelings of Basil’s father, not wishing to dive into the politics involved in betrothing two children for the purpose of drawing important families closer together.
“Yes, I am certain my mother is beside herself at this point,” River said with a sigh, “but it is not as though I am able to send her a message. I have already asked if I could, and my request was ever-so-politely declined.”
“The men holding us captive are treating us better than I would have expected,” Tierra said. “Though I cannot appreciate their deeds, they do seem to want to make us comfortable.”
“But a caged garm cannot be content with padded pillows and gilded bars,” River said. “I should know. I have watched your unhappiness with your lot for years.”
Tierra gave River a look of surprise, barely able to refrain from pulling on Chestnut’s reins to bring the horse to a stop. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you have wanted to escape the confines of the castle for some time. Even if that Skychild had not dropped into your lap, you would have eventually found a way to expand your horizons. Perhaps you would have done so in a less dramatic fashion, but I doubt you would have remained in the castle for your entire life. At the very least, you would have eventually come to live with me.”
“I was longing for adventure, I will grant you that,” Tierra said. “Still, I did not think I was unhappy, exactly.”
River shifted on her horse to give Tierra a sad look. “You were. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but you were unable to hide your true feelings from someone who knew you well.”
“Do you think I am happy now?” Tierra asked quietly.
“Not at this moment, no,” River said, twisting her mouth. “But when you are with that Skychild, I can feel your happiness. It is for that reason alone that I have not sent a garm after him.”
“And I suppose your reticence has nothing to do with the fact that Skye’s death would result in my own?”
“I said nothing about killing him. I was only speaking of a little mangling.”
“A little mangling,” Tierra said as she chuckled and shook her head. “Only you, River.”
“And now, despite all you have gone through to keep that Skychild at your side, we find ourselves without his assistance. It is as if Terrain is laughing at us.”
“Or Celesta,” Tierra said wryly.
“What are we but playthings for our gods? Yes, I am certain they are laughing at us. The gods . . . and Quicksilver, arrogant bird-eater that he is.”
“I am not sure that Quicksilver is capable of laughing, though I can readily imagine him smirking about our situation in a self-satisfied fashion.”
“I wish he was not so closed-mouthed about our purpose for being here,” River said. “He could easily provide us with all the answers instead of giving us this nonsense about waiting to learn everything until we reach our destination.”
“I agree. But what can we do?”
“Nothing, Tierra. Nothing at all. And that is where the stone chafes the skin.”
The next day only produced more questions. As the party continued onward, they began to approach an ancient structure that Tierra recognized from her childhood. It was not as large as she remembered, but it was still a massive structure, with great blocks of dark gray rock stacked upon one another in an almost haphazard manner as it soared into the sky. Scattered throughout the structure, but particularly numerous near the top, thorn-like rock protrusions could be seen disturbing what might have once been an attractive building.
At the front of the temple, a large gate stood open, with massive wooden doors set to either side. It had appeared weathered and ill-kept when Tierra had visited as a child, and it looked no better now.
“What is that place?” River murmured as they drew nearer.
“The Mountain of Terrain,” Tierra told her. Chestnut’s ears twisted back toward her, and Tierra reached down to pat the horse’s shoulder.
“That is the Mountain of Terrain?” River asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Tierra said. “It is supposed to be a hallowed place, but it gave me nightmares after I visited it as a child. There is something . . . unsettling about it.”
“That is one way to put it. I know buildings are meant for function rather than aesthetics, but the Groundbreathers who built this temple did not appear to know much about what they were doing.”
Tierra shook her head with a frown as she gazed upon the structure. “I do not know, River. I feel as if something is . . . not right about this place. I am not so certain this is how the temple’s creators wished it to look. Those thorny stones almost appear to be a violation of the sanctity of this place.”
“What an odd thing to say,” River said, giving Tierra a strange look. “Whatever could you mean by that? If the temple is dedicated to Terrain, why would anything be as you said?”
Tierra gave a weak chuckle. “It is silly, I suppose. But it is a feeling I have.”
Before River could respond, Quicksilver brought his horse beside Tierra and looked at her. “What do you think of Terrain’s holy temple?” he asked.
“I have been here before,” Tierra said curtly.
“Have you?” Quicksilver said with a raised brow. “Well, then my question holds all the more significance.”
“I do not know why anything I say would hold any significance to you. Jailers tend to not care about the mental impressions of those they keep entrapped.”
Quicksilver glanced over to River. “She has a bit of a sharp tongue on her, does she not?”
“Actually, Tierra is one of the kindest people I have ever met,” River said. “She only acts this way when her level of dislike for a person miraculously outweighs her tendency toward showing people common courtesy.”
Instead of being offended, Quicksilver seemed amused, though it was difficult to see it in his countenance. Tierra thought she must have been becoming accustomed to the man’s ways if his expressions were so readable to her now. The knowledge soured Tierra’s mood even further, causing her to
speak in a sharper tone than before.
“River is only partially correct,” Tierra said. “There are some people who do not even deserve common courtesy. At present, I lump you in that group with my reprehensible sister, who is worthy of no more consideration than a buzzing insect.”
“Is that not a rather harsh statement against your own flesh and blood?”
“You think I harbor anything but contempt for my sister, a woman who, in collusion with you and your band of thugs, murdered my father and upset the balance of the Groundbreather kingdom? She is worthy of nothing more than my contempt. As are you.”
“Have you ever considered the possibility that I might be acting on the instructions of the god whom you claim to revere?”
“I cannot imagine Terrain would wish for such a heinous thing.”
“You are welcome to your belief, no matter how erroneous.” The man leaned forward in his saddle, as though trying to fix Tierra in place with the harsh look in his eyes. “But I could say the same in relation to your . . . dalliance with one of Terrain’s sworn enemies, so I suggest you examine who exactly is caught up in rebellion and who is a willing servant of our god.”
With a final glare, the man spurred his mount forward, leaving behind Tierra, who fumed and attempted to bore holes in his back with her eyes.
“That was perhaps not the most . . . diplomatic way of speaking with him,” River said.
Tierra scowled at her cousin. “I am not interested in being diplomatic. I consider this whole band to be nothing better than criminals, and that man positively makes my teeth itch.”
For a long moment, River did not respond, leaving Tierra to her tumultuous thoughts. The temple grew larger in the distance, and so did Tierra’s sense of disquiet. Though the building was not as large as it had seemed when she was a child, it was every bit as intimidating, as if the whole place were alive. She almost thought someone was watching her, judging her as a supplicant. She had never felt that way in any other place associated with her god, even the Pool of Terrain, which carried its own sense of foreboding.
“Tierra,” River said quietly.
Tierra glanced at her cousin. “Yes?”
“What if . . . what if that man speaks the truth? There has never been a union between a Groundbreather and a Skychild before. What if Terrain is angry about what you are doing?”
“I cannot believe that,” Tierra replied firmly. “This conflict between the Skychildren and the Groundbreathers is not healthy. Have the Groundbreathers even progressed as a people in the last few millennia?”
“We have learned new ways to hone our powers,” River said, her voice full of affront. “We have discovered new and better ways of achieving our ends. Our crops have never been more abundant, and we control more of the world and our Groundwalker subjects than ever before.”
“Oh, that is wonderful,” Tierra said sarcastically, watching as River’s countenance darkened further. “But I am speaking of something more. We still consider the Skychildren to be less than dirt, we consider ourselves to be oh-so-important and powerful, and we look down on the Groundwalkers because they lack the abilities we have. In my mind, our attitude has prevented us from becoming a better people. I am not speaking of us as a people that has discovered new things. I want more for us. I am certain that if we approached Terrain, he would wish for us to become more than we are now.”
As Tierra spoke, River’s expression softened, and by the end of Tierra’s words, it seemed as though River had begun to consider what Tierra meant. There was no further time for discussion, however, as the temple now loomed before them, its features appearing no less sinister from their close vantage point than it did from a distance. In fact, the oppression in the air felt greater to Tierra than it ever had before, and she thought to herself, A place dedicated to the god of my people should not feel like this, should it?
But it did. The Mountain of Terrain stood massive before them, and Tierra gazed at the edifice as they rode up to the gates. She marveled at how seamless the stones fit with one another, looking as though they had been set together rather than cut and put into place. Yet here and there throughout the temple, the great spikes of stone jutted out from the main structure, as if men had taken pointed lances and driven them through the walls. Where the thorns stood out from the exterior, the rock surrounding them was crumbling, with debris and rock chips having fallen to the earth below.
As the group rode up and through the gate, one great long spike pointed down toward them, and Tierra ducked on reflex, noting with a grimace that the point of the spike was still far above her head. She fought the impulse to turn Chestnut around and flee.
Canyon, whose horse happened to be close by, threw her a smile. “You have nothing to worry about here, you know. This is a holy place of Terrain.”
Tierra pursed her lips and nodded, embarrassed that he had seen her duck.
The man then kicked his horse forward and moved to the front of the group with Quicksilver.
Inside the courtyard of the structure stood a number of priests of Terrain, their rich, brown robes announcing their positions to any supplicants. Quicksilver rode ahead of the group, with Canyon following close behind, and the rest of the band stopped. Quicksilver dismounted in front of the priests and conferred with them in a low voice. Tierra was surprised to note that he seemed to be speaking and the priests listening, as if he were the one in charge, and they merely his underlings. Tierra was even more surprised when Canyon dismounted and joined the group, offering a few words of his own.
Soon, the conference broke up, and a number of younger priests stepped forward to take hold of the group’s horses as everyone dismounted.
“We will be breaking here for a short time,” Canyon said, approaching Tierra and River.
Tierra nodded at him in a fashion that was as close to friendly as she would be with these strangers. Canyon had been fairly distant with River and Tierra, but he still interacted with them far more than any of the other men did, with the exception of Quicksilver.
Tierra was about to turn her back to the temple when Quicksilver stepped up to her and regarded her, a challenge evident in his eyes.
“Perhaps you would like to enter the temple to pray? You may make your supplications, and maybe you can even induce Terrain to change my mind.”
Tierra felt her eyebrows shoot upward in surprise. Such a challenge was unexpected, and Quicksilver’s belief that Terrain might speak to him was no less shocking. Was he actually a priest? If so, he was unlike any priest that Tierra had ever known.
Regardless, Tierra was not one to turn down a challenge from this man. For whatever reason, he irked her almost as much as Cirrus did. She would show him that she believed herself to be in the right. She would not allow his arrogance to be rewarded.
Resolution made, Tierra said, “I shall gladly make my supplications to Terrain.”
“Tierra,” River said in warning, perhaps divining some of Tierra’s thoughts.
“You need not worry, River,” Tierra said as she turned to look at her cousin. “Please wait for me here. I wish to spend some time praying to Terrain. I need him to give me strength to face the trials that have been placed before me.” She gave Quicksilver a pointed look.
The man offered an arm. “May I escort you into the temple, Your Highness?”
“No, you may not,” Tierra said coolly before sweeping past him and moving toward the temple.
Unfortunately, Quicksilver was right on her heels, and his longer strides soon brought him up beside her. On her other side, Tierra was surprised to see Canyon take up a position. The priests made a welcoming gesture, and the small group entered the temple.
The inside looked better than the outside, yet there was still a sense that the building was ancient. The crumbling rocks seen on the exterior had mostly been cleared from the inside, but there were chunks of stone missing from the walls. In some places, the walls had been clumsily repaired, but there were several spots where it seemed as tho
ugh no repair had been attempted at all. Tierra found it to be quite strange. Groundbreathers, for all their love of deep, rich dirt, prided themselves on being tidy, and even a Groundbreather whose powers were weak could do something as simple as cleanly patch up a wall. It seemed as though whoever had tried to fix the broken walls had been sloppy . . . or perhaps the walls themselves, for whatever reason, had resisted efforts to repair them.
A priest just inside the entrance stepped in front of them and led them through an arched doorway that led to a wide open room. This room made up the bulk of the temple, and a series of frescoes—some of which were almost worth admiring—lined the walls, yet the sole purpose of the room seemed to be to draw attention to the large altar at the end of it. The altar had been formed from a stone that was pebbled with greens and blues that were reminiscent of water, and though it had been subjected to the ravages of time, it appeared to have received the most attention from the temple’s inhabitants. It was also the only part of the temple that Tierra had seen that did not host the protrusion of spikes.
When the priest halted in front of the altar, Tierra, Quicksilver, and Canyon stopped behind him. As the priest turned to face them, Tierra glanced behind her, noting that no one else from Quicksilver’s party had followed them into the temple. Tierra, Quicksilver, and Canyon were alone with the priests—of whom there was a surprisingly large number—and for some reason, the thought sent a shiver down her spine. Though the Groundbreather priests were blessed followers of Terrain, they were on friendly terms with this murderer and kidnapper, and Tierra knew she had no friends in this place. Perhaps she should have asked River to come with her after all.
“Welcome to the Mountain of Terrain, Your Highness,” the priest said to Tierra, his brown robes fanning outward as he raised his arms in greeting. There was a glint of coldness to his eyes that seemed out of place with the supposed warmth of his words. “I am Stonedagger, the Head Priest of this temple. Here, our powerful and worthy god shall listen to the prayers that stream forth from your heart and your mind. May the path you have taken be one of righteousness, and may Terrain reward the faithfulness that has brought your footsteps hither to this hallowed place.”
