It had begun with one little favor: look for the hellerune and bring her to me. She had escalated it from there. Now he had outlived his usefulness and was beginning to disobey her subtly. The crisis the Aurora found itself in was his problem now. Eventually, his excuses wouldn’t be enough, and he’d be exposed. Without her, he’d face the full backlash of the Aurora; and without him, knowing their Radiant was a traitor, the Rising Aurora would crumble and the New Gloaming would swarm in.
“Are you not concerned what the Wounded will think of your little stunt?” Zaedicus scoffed. “Yes, you killed the valkyrie, but you lost the hellerune.”
Indriði closed her eyes and smiled against the tone in his voice. He thought her a silly idiot for losing Holloway when he had done the same, what, three, four times? “No, honey. Believe it or not, I let her go.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “You really thought you got me with that one, huh?”
The high-wight’s face twisted sourly. “The Wounded is going to—”
“I honestly couldn’t care less.”
All at once, the colors of the portal before her shifted. A streak of blood red invaded the blue, becoming bigger as it whorled until the entire thing glowed crimson. A familiar figure clad in leather and steel stood stark black against it.
“Speak of the Devil,” Indriði whispered to herself. He had been on his way to retrieve Edie. Well … oops.
The Wounded stepped away from the portal, features becoming clearer now that he wasn’t back-lit. His seething expression heralded death. Maybe they’d be lucky and it would be Zaedicus’s—although, after all his failures, the Wounded saw Zaedicus as so inconsequential that he probably didn’t even notice his presence. Indriði had to agree with him on that front, at least.
“Welcome, my lord.” She scanned the area behind him. “Where are your pets?”
“Busy. And they are not my pets.” Then came the question of the hour: “Why did you allow Holloway to escape?”
Indriði spread her hands calmly. “I’m cutting my losses. After talking with her, it’s obvious to me that she’s not even half as powerful as she’s supposed to be. Even if she was, she’ll clearly never join us. We should shift our direction and kill her on sight instead. Shouldn’t be hard.”
The Wounded set his jaw, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in fury. He couldn’t scare her, though. He should know that. They were practically equals in this operation, even if he was their master’s golden boy, so to speak. “We chose her for a reason, Norn.”
“Listen, hon,” she returned, relishing how the term of endearment made him twitch. “It’s not gonna happen, and you and I both know she isn’t the only hellerune available to us. That’s part of why I’m moving my operation here. There’s another one nearby, and he can’t hide from us forever.”
The Wounded was silent, gray eyes searching her face, probably trying to find a weak spot. He still wouldn’t let this go. Pathetic.
The Norn bridged her hands. “I don’t have to remind you that there’s more at stake here than … whatever it is you want her for.” A smirk. “You’re being greedy.”
He growled, his fingers twitched—and for a moment, it seemed like he really would reach for his claymore and try something. But he stopped, eyes wandering. Something behind Indriði seemed to distract him. She thought it might be Zaedicus, but no … something high up, a point near the ceiling. The Wounded’s expression melted from fury to a blank, haunted look.
The Norn looked over her shoulder, but there was nothing. What was he seeing?
“Very well,” he said abruptly, drawing Indriði’s attention back to him. His jaw was clenched, eyes alight, but his face was devoid of emotion. “Daschla’s cause will no doubt benefit from having you in the area. I give you Scarlet and her Watchers as well, to command as you see fit.”
“What?” Zaedicus sputtered. “My lord, I— need Scarlet here!”
Sárr ignored him. “You have my blessing, and my permission to hunt for the other hellerune.”
Indriði’s smile was tight. “Bold of you to assume I needed your permission. Or wanted it, for that matter.”
The Wounded stared at her for a moment, huffed a low laugh, then turned and left.
The chapterhouse was bathed in honeyed light, but the tone in the room was somber. Across from Eirik, standing behind a bloodied altar, was Ynga. She clutched the bleeding stump of her wrist to her chest as a pillar of light engulfed her, turning her arctic eyes to rings of glittering yellow for a brief moment. A golden halo wreathed her head; then the pillar expanded, filling the whole room with warmth before slowly fading.
He was supposed to be left with a feeling of joy. He had done this time and time again, but this felt different. Had it finally happened? Had the gods forsaken him?
When the intruders burst in, he heard them, but couldn’t seem to turn to confront them. A great clamoring like a thousand bells ringing at once filled his head, and the vision shook and turned to white all around him. He sensed the end. His knees buckled, the world rushing upward in a blur, then—
Nothing.
Eirik opened his eyes. The vision was over.
He stood on the battlements surrounding the temple grounds. Before him was the main building of their order’s hub, its golden dome shining in the late morning sun. Most people who looked up at the Temple of the Rising Divine assumed it was some sort of campus, and that was true enough. Masquerading as a religious college and sending money to the right places had kept them safe and unmolested thus far.
How long could that last now? His heart ached at the thought. Indeed, how much longer could any of them live in secrecy?
Snow had begun to fall, light and delicate on the breeze. A thin layer of it coated the stone, slowly melting when it made contact with the sun-warmed surface. Some day soon, it wouldn’t melt at all. Eirik’s stomach was a hollow void. He knew what this snow meant, and he knew his hand in bringing it upon them. It took all his strength not to collapse to his knees and wail his grief into the sky.
Marius. He had to remember. All the horror, the pain, the death was for Marius.
At first, the Norn had simply asked for the hellerune. That had been one thing. He didn’t know and didn’t care to know what the Gloaming wanted with her. Then the favors had become bigger and bigger, until he was working against his own people. Until he was a traitor.
But it was all for Marius. He was only doing his duty. Tyr, of all people, must understand.
Marius knew; Eirik could sense it somehow. He found himself scanning the vista before him, trying to pick out his son’s righteously furious form. His son knew what he had done, and no doubt he would kill him for it.
Perhaps that was what the gods wanted—blood. Perhaps it didn’t matter whether he was really a traitor or not.
Regardless, whatever happened, Marius—that brilliant child, the light of Eirik’s life, the only thing that mattered anymore—was ready to become Radiant. It was up to him how he wanted to achieve that.
“Your Grace,” said a voice from behind him. He turned to see a vivid standing at the top of the battlement steps, helmet under their arm. “The chapterhouse is prepared for Tyr’s Rite. We’re ready to begin whenever you are.”
With a heavy heart, Eirik nodded and turned from the parapet. It was time to face his fate.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The group at Shipshaven had piled into Ghost as soon as they could explain the situation to Satara. They’d contemplated taking faster modes of transportation, such as Marius’s lightsteed or Astrid’s spectral wolf, but Edie had argued that there was no better use of the hour drive than putting their heads together and coming up with a solid plan.
However, considering they only had four people and little idea of what they were up against, a solid plan soon proved to be nearly impossible.
“How are we supposed to take down a whole stronghold of Aurora?” Cal asked as he tuned onto the highway. “Not even the Gloaming go near that place.”
&n
bsp; “We don’t have to take down a whole stronghold. Only my father.” Marius’s tone was dark, his fists clenched.
Edie, sitting next to him, tried to keep her tone gentle. “We shouldn’t just waltz in, then. Where can we find your dad?”
“In the chapterhouse. He’s inducting a new vivid today.” He scrubbed his face and sighed. “It’ll be packed with vivids, but I’m … hopeful they’ll see the truth. They have to.”
“Do you really think they’ll listen to you over him?” she pressed.
He said nothing. Edie could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Learning your father had been lying to you for years and having to test your people’s trust in you all in one day had to be agonizing. Marius kept shaking his head, whispering to himself at intervals.
She let him alone for now. He had an hour to come up with how he was going to convince the other vivids. At this point, Edie was starting to think it might be better for them to just assassinate Eirik and go, but Marius probably wouldn’t consent to that until his back was to the wall. He wanted his moment.
They discussed the layout of the temple, what other forces they might be met with, and how they might escape. When they finally reached Anster, Marius directed Cal to a street around the side of the temple.
The building was huge, though Edie had been expecting something more churchlike. Tall stone walls obscured what she assumed were the grounds, and the only entrances seemed to be the main one and four or five doors around the perimeter.
The place Marius had instructed them to park was near a public square. It wasn’t until he brought them to one of the square’s far-off, lonely corners that Edie noticed a lower portion near the temple’s wall, mostly hidden and cordoned off with a gate and an iron fence. When she peeked beyond, she could see a spiral staircase leading underground.
Satara examined it skeptically as they approached. She was holding together well, considering the ordeal they’d been through only a couple days before. Edie worried for her, but if focusing on the task ahead helped her cope, that was valid. “Where does it lead?” asked the shieldmaiden.
There seemed to be no latch or lock, but Marius whispered a spell to open the gate. “The undercroft. The chapterhouse only has one door in use, but there is a secret entrance in the wall. We can get in from here.” He dragged the gate open and ushered the rest of the party in first, checking the square before locking the gate again and following them.
The stairs only went down a floor, but after the first turn, they disappeared completely underground. Edie put one hand on the stone wall and carefully felt her way until they were at the bottom, standing in front of a door bound and riveted with iron. Marius whispered another spell, and a golden barrier that hadn’t been visible before flashed and melted away.
The undercroft was even darker than the stairwell. Edie’s time in Indriði’s dungeon hadn’t exactly endeared her to darkness, and to boot, she could hear water flowing nearby. She hugged her jacket close. “Is there a river down here?”
“It’s a canal,” Marius’s voice answered, so close behind her that it sent shivers down her spine. “It cuts the temple grounds in half.”
“Great. Does anyone have a light?”
Up ahead, Cal flicked open his lighter and waved it around, probably trying to find a torch he could ignite. It didn’t seem like there were any sconces down here, though, let alone torches.
“Don’t bother,” Marius said. He went to the front of the group and summoned a glowing yellow ball, letting it float above their heads. “The dark is part of how they make sure non-Aurorans stay out. Most of us know at least one rudimentary light spell.”
He started forward, and the rest had no choice but to follow closely. Edie pumped her legs harder to keep up with the others, all of whom were taller than her. Even though it was freezing down here, she was sweating with anxiety.
“We need weapons,” Satara said, an irritated edge to her voice. “Walking in with a necromancer is not likely to soothe your people.”
“I know.”
Edie liked Marius fine, but the idea that he was willfully leading them to their deaths did not sit well with her. In the dim light, she exchanged looks with both Cal and Satara. If things went south, they might have no choice but to bail. It was Marius’s choice to come with them or not. “Satara’s right,” she said. “We won’t attack them if they don’t attack first, but we need to be armed.”
“I know,” Marius repeated, harsher this time.
She gritted her teeth and pressed, “So, what’s the plan?”
After a lull, their procession stopped. The arched ceiling of the undercroft had become lower as they reached a wall of doors. Marius touched the one he was standing in front of, then started walking again, much faster. “That’s the chapterhouse. The main entrance is guarded during ceremonies, so we’ll have to use that one.”
“We, uh, kinda missed it,” Cal grumbled. “Where the hell are you taking us, Sparky?”
The sound of flowing water intensified as the ceiling got higher again. The ball of light above their heads split into two, and one left, bathing the path ahead of them in light.
Up ahead, Marius was already crossing a stone bridge with no parapets. The canal rushed under it, frothing as it flowed downhill. Edie’s heart seized at the sight. The bridge was so skinny. With nothing to hold onto, the only way she was crossing that thing safely was on her hands and knees.
Satara crossed quickly, then Cal followed suit. Edie halted stiffly at one end. Why did everything have to be a fucking trial?
Cal stopped in the middle of the bridge when he noticed she had stalled. “Get a move on, kid.”
“It’s— I … listen. Give me a sec.”
The revenant cocked a brow at her, then looked at the water rushing below them and rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he took her arm, and though his grip was gentle, he dragged her across the bridge with a strength she couldn’t even hope to resist. “How are you supposed to fight witches and werewolves if you can’t even cross a freakin’ footbridge? I’m asking.”
As they reached the other end of the bridge, Marius finally spoke. “I was thinking about how I’ll get the others to believe me. You’re right; with Edie here, they’ll think she bewitched me or something. But then I realized that they don’t have to believe me—they only have to believe their gods.”
“What are you talking about?”
As if answering the question itself, one of the balls of light rushed ahead and perched on the casing of a huge golden door. Even in the dim light, it shone like a beacon. Its marble frame was large, intricately carved with the likenesses of what must be famous Auroran warriors. In its center was a three-dimensional crest emblazoned with a sun.
“We’re under the inner sanctum now. This is the Golden Crypt. It holds the corpses of past Radiants dating back … a long time. Several centuries.”
Marius studied the marble carvings for a moment before pointing to one of the figures depicted there—a slender woman in a white hood, carrying a staff on her back and a knife in her right hand, held at an impractical angle that Edie could only guess was symbolic somehow.
“It’s said Radiant Hærfríðr the Puretongue never told a lie in her entire life, such that the iron knife she wielded as an adherent turned to silver and adopted her virtue. Supposedly, anyone who holds the knife is only able to tell the truth. Not only truth as he knows it, but the absolute truth.”
Edie blinked. “Does it actually work?”
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “They only need to believe it does.”
Marius inhaled audibly and touched the door’s crest. In an instant, magic poured from his palm, into the door. The crest slowly filled with light until it hurt Edie’s eyes to look at; then it rotated, separating into four parts that shifted to the side and allowed the door to open. The massive, bassy creak alone set Edie on edge; the icy wind that flowed out from the room beyond downright frightened her.
“Sounds g
ood,” Cal rasped, apparently unaffected. “Let’s get ’er done.”
Marius entered first. The balls of light coalesced into a single ball once more and hopped from sconce to sconce, lighting their way as they entered the crypt.
Edie was unable to hold back a gasp as over a dozen grinning, glittering faces lit up in the darkness above their heads. It took a moment for the lights to brighten, and for her to realize exactly what she was looking at.
Skeletons, and not of the spooky Halloween display variety. Standing in individual alcoves and powerfully posed, these skeletons were dressed to the nines in fine gilded robes and polished armor designed to show off their bones. The bones themselves seemed to be covered with delicate fabric, every inch of it embellished with gold and jewels. It was stretched across their skulls, their eyes replaced with gems and silver filigree; their teeth were lustrous pearls, jaws encrusted with emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds.
Despite being decorated similarly, they were all distinct. Eygísl the Vengeful—so said the plaque at his feet—wore completely different but equally as extravagant armor as Petronia of Swift Wind. Even though these Radiants were long dead, Edie felt watched under their eyes.
“Auroran gilded corpses,” Satara said in awe. “I never thought I would get to see these in person.”
She sounded like she’d just been ushered into paradise, but Edie wasn’t as convinced. The skeletons were beautiful, no doubt about it; and under normal circumstances, if they were visiting a museum or something, she would have been gaga over them. But in the dark recesses of a centuries-old crypt, under a temple full of old god worshipers who wanted her dead, they struck her as a little more sinister.
“How did they … do this?” she asked. “And why?”
“Norse burial customs dictate people of importance should be buried with grave goods.” Marius gestured around the room and they walked. “This is how we honor that tradition while still preserving our Radiants. When they die, they’re stripped of their flesh, their bones coated in wax. Then acolytes wrap each bone in thin silk lace, for protection and as a surface to decorate. It’s been years since any of them were on public display, but they still need tending to from time to time.”
No Earthly Treason Page 32
