by Brindi Quinn
“A more pertinent question would be: ‘why must you insist on slaying time?’ It is absurd! Let us move now!”
“You heard the lady!” Darch yanked Ardette’s sleeve.
“All right, all right. Calm down, would you? You’re giddiness is wearing me out.”
Together we followed Ardette through the darkness that lay beyond the entrance of the tomb. The tunnel leading to the shadow was rounded, its ground continually smooth. Upon further inspection, it seemed that the walkway had been purposely carved by whoever had designated the mound a resting place.
I wasn’t allowed to sing a light, for the sake of saving my strength, so Rend held a small red orb that only slightly lit the area. It was enough for us to catch sight of the back of Ardette’s cloak, but not enough for us to keep from stumbling every so often.
“Yer certain it’s this way?” questioned Grotts after some time.
Ardette’s response was riddled with sweet sarcasm.
“Would you like to try leading us through instead?”
“Naw. Not really.”
I followed along, next to Kantú, hoping that Grotts’ fears weren’t warranted and wondering what Darch had meant by Ardette being able to feel the way to the shadow. To me, it only looked like he was blindly following the straightest course possible while lazily passing up all turn-offs and path branches.
But after another ten or so minutes, even I began to feel a change.
The air slowly morphed into something air-like but not quite air. It was thick and cool, and I’d experienced it in my body several times before. The moment I noticed the change was the moment I understood what it was that I was feeling.
Shadow!
It was faint, but growing stronger, and while I hated to admit it, the air tasted like Ardette.
Another few moments passed.
“It’ll be just ahead,” warned the Daem himself.
At last we came to the place where the shadow was. The tunnel opened into a large stone room, at its center another pothole, this one filled with smoky, black liquid.
“We’re here.”
Ardette motioned us in.
I don’t know whether he could have prepared me for what came next. If he could have, he made no attempt. If he had, I probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway. To put it simplest, stepping into the red-lit room, I saw something I hadn’t been expecting. Something magnificent, yet terrifying. Something legendary.
When Kantú saw it, she immediately dashed behind Grotts.
“A-a DRAGON?!” came her muffled, hidden squeak.
It would be nearly five minutes before she’d muster up enough courage to peek at it again from around his arm.
I followed her example by clinging to the person nearest me. That person happened to be Scardo, and my gesture put an uncomfortable tension about him, which I ignored.
“It’s not real, is it?!” I cried.
But it looked real enough. There, in the middle of the blackened pothole, was an enormous, glowing skeleton, larger than any being or building I’d ever seen, complete with a skull the size of ten cottages, each sharp tooth the size of a trunk.
“Are you frightened, damsel?” Ardette whirled around and flashed me an unexpected and princely smile. It was obvious he’d been dying all along to see my reaction to the tomb’s occupant.
“Not at all,” I lied.
I wasn’t convincing enough. Ardette’s smile sparkled.
“Well then, Ardetto, I do believe it’s time to start the ceremony. Aren’t you excited?!”
“Not nearly as excited as you.”
“Ceremony?” I asked, releasing Scardo.
The original shock of the dragon was already over. It had been replaced by childlike curiosity.
Ardette’s pupils grew at a disturbing rate.
“Yes, my cherry pit,” he purred. “Just you wait.”
Chapter 12: The Purification
The dragon’s skeleton was now even more intimidating than it had initially been.
There were six torches sporadically placed around the inner tomb. They’d been lit by Rend and were burning almost like normal fire, though they held a red hue. These illuminated the corpse in a most unsettling way, so that at times it almost appeared alive. I continually reminded myself that it was only a trick of the magic light.
“Now that the torches are lit, I’ll do the honors of retrieving the sacred shadow.”
Without being asked, Scardo hurried to the edge of the basin. The shadow was thickest there, pulsating and swirling.
Scardo took the small vial, which was no stranger to andap, from his inner pocket and dipped its edge into the pit, but before he could submerge it completely, he was interrupted by a smug laugh. He looked up.
The laugh belonged to Ardette. It was accompanied by an amused head shake.
“Oh, no, oh favored one, we’ll need a great bit more than that if we hope to get anywhere.”
“Oh?” Scardo looked offended – and rightfully so.
“Yup,” answered Darch, far more politely than his supercilious friend, “we’ll need some sort of a basin to pour it into.” He patted Scardo on the back. “Nice try, though!””
Disappointed, Scardo returned the vial to his person and stood. “How big?”
Darch scanned the room. “That’ll do!” He pointed to a large rock lying near one of the torches.
“But that’s hardly a ‘basin’,” I said.
Sure, the rock would have made for a perfect bowl, had it been carved out, but as it were, there was no way it would hold any liquid, shadow or otherwise.
Nonetheless, Darch waddled to the rock and gave it a great hug. He wasn’t able to lift it very high off the ground – which was sort of puzzling since he’d always been able to pick me up with ease – yet he carried it over to Ardette, arms strained between his crouched knees.
“Here you go, Ardette. This’ll do, right?”
“Should be enough, but then again, how should I know?”
Grotts cleared his throat, disapproving Ardette’s attitude.
Though I didn’t favor that side of Ardette any more than Grotts did, I ignored it. I was too curious about our surroundings to pay mind.
“What does it feel like in there?” I inched a bit closer to the edge of the pit. “Is it liquid or gas?”
“Why do you ask? You’ve had me inside of you plenty of times, haven’t you?”
You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?
“Well, yeah, I guess. But it feels so different in here.” Shivering, I hugged myself and looked around the tomb. “Thicker. Cooler. Sadder.”
“Feels?” Nyte cocked his head to the side.
“Sure, you know, the air in here. How it’s mixed with shadow?”
“You mean, smoke, don’t you?” asked Darch. His voice was again different. This time, instead of loud and forced, it was abnormally quiet.
“Er- right.”
Reaching out a wistful arm, Nyte slowly cut his hand through the smoky air before him.
The newly-sliced shadow pushed against me in compensation – or maybe it would be more accurate to report that it wrapped itself around me, much like a living thing.
With his shadow experimentation apparently not yet over, Nyte proceeded to grab an invisible handful of the meandering stuff and bring it to his nose. He closed his eyes for the smallest of moments, only slightly longer than a blink. I waited for something to happen, some response, but it was ultimately an uneventful occurrence, for when he reopened them, he only gave me a shrug and said,
“I do not feel the smoke, as you do.”
“You don’t?”
“I do not.” He lowered his voice so that only I could hear. “To be honest, I am a little relieved.”
I understood. Taking in a breath of the ‘blood’ of an adversary probably wasn’t the most pleasant of things.
“I wonder if . . .”
I was about to start thinking that it was the difference in our race that
brought about our different sensitivities to the shadow, but my theory was quickly put to rest, for just then Rend let out a grueling grunt. Much less gently, and much more brutishly, she waved her hand before her face as though she were trying to swat away a swarm of trundlebees.
“Well, I feel it! And it disgusts me! Count yourself lucky, cousin.”
“That, my dear Rend, is because you’ve also had me inside of you, lest we forget.”
That’s right. It had been during one of her outbursts.
“So, only people that have had shadow inside of them can feel it?” squeaked Kantú. She was still hiding behind Grotts, but she was no longer clinging to him as tightly.
“That’s right,” said Ardette, forcing a yawn. “One develops a certain sensitivity to it, and in some cases, a certain dependence after too many tastes.”
Dependence? That was news to me. I’d have to be conscious of just how lax I was with Ardette’s forced shadow-feedings in the future.
Kantú let out a whine. “Really? Bummer – ‘cause that crater looks fun! Like the shadow’s swimming. Maybe if that dragon wasn’t there, I could go over and dip my tail in-”
But Ardette whirled around, stopping her from finishing the thought. His teeth were fully exposed, but they weren’t at all smiling.
“How distasteful! How would you like it if I were to stick an appendage in your ancestor’s blood?!”
Whoa. He’s really offended?
“Eek! I guess it was a little inappropriate-” Kantú started to apologize, but was again cut off.
“Ardette! Don’t ya dare take yer sensitivities out on ‘er!” Grotts’ eyes were blazing, their good-natured lines hidden by the dimness of the room.
Kantú’s skittish expression, combined with Grotts’ fearsome one, was enough to make Ardette let up.
“Fine,” he said, “touch it.” With a sneer he added, “Like I really care all that much.”
But he did care. It was obvious that this place was sacred to him. I instantly felt guilty for having taken the tread so lightly.
Holding his Adam’s apple, Ardette sighed and looked away.
Poetic.
The room was silent. The sneer had fooled no one, for this time, even the others had perceived Ardette’s true feelings – or rather, he’d left his real self open and obvious enough for the rest of the guard to read.
There was a moment of awkward uneasiness, during which Darch stepped between Ardette and the rest of us.
“Don’t mind him,” said Darch calmly. “This is just the first time Ardette’s been to this depository. He’s a little sore because we’re going about this in a non-traditional kind of way. He’ll be okay, though.”
This only served to set Ardette off again.
“A little sore, am I? Creator! Good thing we have you around, Darch! You can just translate all of my angst-ridden, misunderstood, character flaws for the rest of the audience!”
“Ardette-”
But Darch was stopped by an unlikely member of the guard.
“Enough!” Rend stormed up to him. “Although he is but a worm, he does not need you to defend him! It only serves to prolong our trespassing into this hallowed ground.” She turned back to the rest of us, more or less pleading – though, as Rend was not one for lowering herself, it was a very angry plead, indeed. “We would all do well to make haste. It is foolish to tread on the ground of those that have passed.”
She was afraid. Afraid of what might come of what she’d deemed ‘grave desecration’.
Nyte nodded in agreement. His expression was compassionate. “Yes. Let us hurry. It is a disrespect to tarry longer than necessary.”
Having Nyte on his side did nothing to ease Ardette’s mood. He retorted not, but his Adam’s apple jumped enough to show how much the notion disgusted him.
Visibly struggling, he bit his tongue and turned to Grotts.
“Make the basin. Can you, with that hammer?”
“Yeah. Sure I can.”
Darch didn’t seem at all fazed from being hollered at by two different people in such a short frame of time. Smiling contentedly, he again picked up the rock and lugged it over to Grotts.
I still didn’t understand how it would magically turn into a basin, so all I could do was watch without offering help.
“‘Scuze me, Kantoo.” Tenderly Grotts removed her hand from his shoulder and stepped away. She scurried to me instead, though my much smaller frame could do little to block her from the view of dragon’s bones.
“Alright then, ya ready, Ardette?”
Grotts raised his hammer high above his head with both hands.
What’s he going to . . . huh?! And then I realized. But he’s going to crash it to bits!
I looked on in wincing curiosity, certain that the impact from Grotts’ mighty hammer would only serve to smash the rock, or at the very least, give Grotts a terrible dose of backlash.
But it wouldn’t come to pass as I foresaw it.
Ardette had made his way to Grotts’ side, and just as the massive man started to downswing, Ardette gave a great push through the air, forcing a burst of shadow into the space between rock and hammer.
Grotts brought his arms down, almost to the rock’s level, but at the last moment, he gritted his teeth and stopped the hammer’s momentum. But though the hammer had stopped, the shadow hadn’t. The momentum carried over into it, pummeling it down into the rock and creating a perfect bowl-shape.
Grotts stepped away. The rock was now as smooth inside as the Nalla’s many potholes.
“Wow! Impressive, Grottsy!”
The swing had cleared out much of the rock’s mass, turning the unneeded part into fine powder, and making the basin much easier to lift.
Grotts bent down and blew out the remaining particles.
“Alrigh’, Scardo, do yer thing.”
Scardo’s chin had been down, but at the mention of his name, it shot up.
“M-me? Really?” He eagerly looked at Ardette.
“Well, go on. As I said before, the andap won’t retrieve itself.”
Scardo’s meager complexion brightened at the thought of again scooping up the sacred substance. He again hurried to the edge of the pit.
“Well then, Aura, guess it’s your turn!” Darch marched over and grabbed my wrist.
“Mine?!”
Shoot. I’d somehow forgotten.
“How many tears will you need?” asked Nyte, again sensing my reluctance.
“Seven,” answered Ardette.
“Six,” answered Darch.
“Seven. I’m not taking any chances.”
I didn’t blame him if the stuff really was like poison in its unpurified form.
Still . . . seven? That was kind of a lot.
“Come now, my cherry pit.” Ardette gestured to a wooden crate that he’d placed near the swirling pit’s edge. He must’ve found it lying in some corner of the tomb.
“Alright.”
I gave Nyte an over-the-shoulder grimace that only he could see.
“Do not fear, Miss Havoc. Your tears usually flow as freely as a babe.” He grinned. “Just try not to sob too hard. We do not wish for a flood.”
“Oh? You think me a cry babe? I’ll give you a flood all right. I know a nifty little tune that’ll do just the trick.”
“Ah! But I cannot swim!”
That was most definitely a lie. Also grinning, I shook my head at him. With our eyes locked, I felt better.
But the moment I turned away, the grin instantly fell.
Great.
I marched forward to accomplish the dreaded task at hand. It felt like I was again making my way to the beach on the night of the Rite. I hated it. I thought I had overcome that timid side of me, but I’d been wrong.
I settled onto the crate. Scardo placed the now-filled basin in my lap with a bow of obeisance while Darch and Ardette stepped on either side of me.
“You can go now, Scardo,” said Darch. “Thank you for an excellent retrieval.”
“Greatest of luck to you, Miss Heart.”
With that, he scampered away to rejoin the others, who’d all moved out of the main chamber and into the adjoining tunnel.
I looked down at the basin. The smoke-shadow was swimming and looping around itself in a mesmerizing way. It was black and gray and a many different shades of in-between dark-tones. An Ardette-esque aroma escaped from the vaporous top, but for the most part, the shadow remained contained to the bottom of the bowl.
While I’d been examining the darkly-beautiful bowl, Ardette had lowered his mouth to my ear.
“It’s all right. You can touch it if you’d like.”
I jumped. I hadn’t realized that he was so close, and the utterance came as a startle.
“I can? But didn’t you say-”
“Having you do it would be . . . enjoyable.”
The small something danced across my ribs.
Darch remained quiet, but I heard him swallow.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” I asked.
I could feel that it was improper, but the dancing, swirling contents were too irresistible for me to be bothered by the formalities of it.
Ardette nodded.
So, feeling sinful, I dipped my pointer finger into the bowl. I’d meant to stay only a short, shallow while, but the shadow had other plans. It responded to my touch by climbing my arm and pulling the rest of my hand down in, submerging my tattooed wrist along with the bottom half of my arm. It wasn’t frightening, though. It simply felt like I was holding a soft, cool hand that sought my comfort as much as I sought its own.
I stayed that way. I would have liked to stay even longer, but . . .
“Ardette, we should probably start now,” said Darch after a minute, calling me from the bewitchments of the bowl.
“Sure.” Ardette’s eyes were transfixed on me, but he was talking to Darch. “By the way, sorry for that bit earlier.”
Ardette’s apologizing? But even that wasn’t enough to completely draw me from the shadow’s spell.
“It’s all right, Ardetto. I know.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Nope.”
Ardette sighed. He took my elbow and slowly drew my hand from the bowl.
