Mayr glowered at the shrapnel in his grasp. The longer he held it, the hotter it got.
Someone would pay harder than they ever thought possible.
"What is it?" Tash asked.
"You don't want to know." Mayr clenched his jaws. He wanted to see Adren immediately. Ce needed to confirm what his intuition screamed.
It was as infuriating as the feeling that he was being watched.
Mayr's skin prickled. In slow movements, he cast his glare over the wreckage and beyond.
His gaze stopped at the edge of the woods. A man stood among the trees in plain brown travel clothes, staring at Mayr from behind untouched branches.
No, not just staring… smirking.
Laughing. Enjoying the chaos.
His clothes and weathered face were average and forgettable, dusty and worn as though he was passing through town. A hood covered his hair; a cowl hid his neck. Only his hands were notable, tattooed in black and red ink from wrist to fingertip, as filthy as his malicious smirk that made Mayr's insides crawl.
Mayr could almost taste the rancid rot that was the Shar-denn.
The man's smirk melted into a snarl before he turned and shot through the woods.
Tossing the shrapnel, Mayr raced after him. Pain stabbed at Mayr, protesting the pursuit. His headache pounded, echoing the noise of his feet over the uneven rubble.
None of it mattered. He crossed the border where wreckage met woods, determined to close the gap between him and the stranger even if it killed them both.
Among the long, dense branches of blood red leaves and white blooms, the stranger's clothes were visible enough to track his movement. The path of the chase meandered, curving around stands of trees, sliding into gullies, and fumbling through thick brush.
Had Mayr been able to stop and laugh, he would have. For all of the cleverness the stranger thought he had, the awkward route allowed Mayr to catch up. Neither could run forever, though the stranger lost stamina with every turn and decision.
The creek changed everything like a shiny gift from the divine.
Caught on the slippery decline towards the water, the stranger hesitated and stumbled over the rocky edge. By the time he turned left to cut through the clearing towards flatter land, Mayr had closed in from the side, less than thirty paces between them.
Yeah… I'm done with this. Mayr grabbed a knife from his belt, took a quick breath, and let the weapon fly.
The blade sliced through the stranger's lower back, knocking him forward. His hood fell, revealing dark, shoulder-length hair. The man shouted and jerked out the knife. He scrambled to resume running, one blood-smeared hand pressed to his side.
Mayr charged through the distance and tackled him at the knees, slamming both of them to the ground. In a flurry of fists, teeth, and feet, Mayr punched any part of the stranger he could reach. Winded and heavy-headed, Mayr struck hard and fast. They tumbled over the dry grass and leaves, rolling and pitching each other in every direction. Distorted grunts and yells met Mayr's in noisy challenge. Whenever the stranger escaped Mayr's hold, Mayr yanked him back. Beneath Mayr's assault, the stranger weakened. Blood from the man's gritty wound coated Mayr's fingers, warm and sticky.
Between punches, the stranger toyed with a thong of leather around his neck, snapping it. Through the blur of hits, Mayr caught the movement of fingers across the man's mouth.
A knee caught Mayr in the hip. In an instant, Mayr was on his back, his shoulders and arms pinned by the man on his chest. The man's dirty, swollen jaws worked laboriously, chewing behind split lips slicked with blood.
"The Shar says hello," the man rasped, disheveled hair plastered to his sweaty face. "We'd really like Taldris and those other traitors to die. Adren belongs to us. Ress too." He punched Mayr's throat, making Mayr choke and gag. "Taldris survived this time, but we'll keep at it, no matter how many priests we have to kill. They'll look so pretty dead." The man wrapped his hands around Mayr's neck. "We know where he is now. Should've chosen a different husband." The man snorted and dug his knee into Mayr's chest, shifting his weight to crush Mayr's ribs.
Gritting his teeth, Mayr pulled on the man's wrists and pressed hard as he wrenched their bodies to the side. They rolled through the ragged clearing, stopping only when Mayr rammed his knee into the man's groin and grappled to get top position.
Beneath him, the stranger coughed and choked. "See you in the bloody pits of the dead," he rasped. Frothy white foam spilled over his lips. The coughs became wheezes. In moments, he was convulsing, sputtering in Mayr's grasp. A groan, a gasp, and a final shudder ushered the man into death.
Mayr jumped back. He stumbled until he found his feet. Words pounded terror through him, his thoughts spinning faster than the haze of colour before his eyes.
The temple had been destroyed to kill Tash.
Had they succeeded… if Gorgan hadn't shown up…
His nightmares were coming true and punishing innocent people in the process.
"I hope you all die, you sick twisted pieces of cock rot!" Snarling and spitting, Mayr stomped on the corpse. He thrust his boot heels into the ugly face and kicked in the ribs until he no longer felt his toes. When boots felt too kind, he snatched the corpse by the collar and punched the face over and over again until the cheeks caved, the lips were all but pummeled flat, and the nose was too disjointed to be pieced back together.
Only when he finally pulled back did he realize tears soaked his face and lips. Through his blurred vision, he stared at his trembling hands. Raw and likely broken, the knuckles of his right hand ached fiercely beneath thick blood.
They were nothing compared to the rest of him. His body vibrated, fueled by pure rage. He had never been so terrified, so numb.
I'm messed up, and if Tash finds out…
Mayr collapsed, barely catching himself on his hands and knees. If Tash knew why the temple was destroyed, they were done. He would lose Tash for good.
It'll devastate him. He'll run away or fall apart or tear into himself to make up for it. For all I know, he'll slice open both arms and bleed out. He sacrificed his life to be free of them and now…
If Tash did not disappear or die, he would push Mayr away.
He did it before, and he'll do it again. Even if he stays, he'll stop being Tash. He won't be mine. He won't be himself. He'll be a shadow, some sick reminder of what could've been. He'll give up everything to make amends, everything we have…
Choking on his sobs, Mayr battled the war inside his head. He needed to tell Tash the truth, but it would ruin their lives. Their marriage gave Tash every reason to leave, but their child was every reason to surrender. If Tash's past actions held true, he would choose both, condemning their family to live without him.
In the end, love would be their death.
Chapter Sixteen
The temple had been a safe place, compassionate and generous.
Now it's been violated like it didn't matter. Tash surveyed the damage wearily, Armamae's limp hand clasped in his. Helpers arrived from all directions and climbed over the rubble. The panicked screams had subsided, replaced by moans and sobs.
And Mayr's run off. No warning, no reason, just gone.
Tash winced and eyed Armamae's pallid face. Compared to his battered emotions in seeing Armamae unconscious, Tash's physical aches were less excruciating. If only Mayr were there to lull him with optimism. I'd take a boldfaced lie—anything to make this bearable.
"Sitting here will not improve matters, Halataldris," Kee said softly. "I can't move very well, and I won't leave Armamae, but you can still help. People need you." She squeezed his arm with one bandaged hand. "There were priests and worshippers in the lower levels. They need rescue, especially if…" Kee eyed the ruins, her worry splayed openly.
"Everything collapses further," Tash finished. He gazed over the wreckage. Groups were gathered where there had been temple entrances. Dozens of people dug through the rock, but if more hands were involved, rescuers could save those tra
pped beneath.
Assuming anyone can be saved. He looked away, unable to stomach his doubt.
"I know it looks desolate, but we are Uldana. We hold onto faith when no one else can." Kee pushed him gently. "Go be their strength. We need the servants of Emeraliss to remind us to keep going."
Desperation crept through Kee's insistent tone. With a shiver, Tash stood and peered over his shoulder in the direction Mayr had gone. No doubt Mayr wanted him to stay with Kee, out of the way where Mayr could find him, but he could not wait when people suffered beneath his feet.
Tash headed for the group at the entrance to the long corridor between altar rooms. Located two floors beneath the decimated main levels and protected by thick stones, he supposed the altar rooms could be intact. The level above had housed mostly libraries, all of them reduced to split wood and paper.
The staircase to the altar rooms was only partially buried by debris. Determined to make his injuries worth something, Tash hauled rocks with the diggers. Two priestesses worked beside him: Esaline and Goyanne, both clothed in the white attire and red sashes that signified their Metah level, novices he still hoped might achieve the Rese level of priesthood, and perhaps even Uldana. Their clothes were soiled, but both were unharmed, saved by their errands in the village at the time of the explosion.
A small mercy. Tash said a silent prayer of gratitude and carried a chunk of marble away with one of the men from the village. Not all of the priests had been present. They were homeless but not hopeless.
As they cleared the stairs, sounds carried through the barrier. At least three voices yelled for help from the other side. They calmed once the diggers leading the effort—a man and woman Tash recognized as a glassmith and carpenter—shouted back. Chatter was kept to a minimum. Their group of a dozen helpers moved in steady rhythm.
Cries of relief split the air as a hole formed and a dirty, scraped hand reached out. The diggers continued until the opening was large enough to crawl through.
Tash held his breath. Bodies climbed and wriggled through the makeshift entrance. Covered in dust, the survivors were worn and bruised, but few showed signs of dislocated joints and other injuries. First to surface was a group of seven, two of them first-level priests new to the temple, each of them sobbing their thanks while they embraced everyone on their way up the stairs.
Quick to follow were two groups of five, each led by an Uldana priestess: Wrenna and Jaylone, two of the priestesses who had conducted Tash's Uldana ceremony and helped him adjust to his responsibilities. Wrenna ushered her group up the stairs, her tone soft. Her long, tight blonde curls were disheveled beneath her skewed veil, the fabric torn like her red robes. Jaylone looked as stalwart as Kee usually was but even more annoyed. She flanked her own group, strands of her wavy black hair stuck to her sweat-slicked face.
"May Navara and Hastal burn every metaphorical hide of whatever's responsible," Jaylone muttered, stopping beside Tash partway up the staircase. She hugged Esaline and Goyanne before clasping his hands. "Thank the Four you were here. We worried it'd be our tomb. Let it be known I'm now afraid of closed spaces. No more locked rooms for me."
"I don't blame you," Tash answered, gripping her elbows to steady her trembling. "Is that all of you or are there more?"
Jaylone shrugged. "I think there's one more, maybe two. They didn't join our groups, not that I saw." She motioned to the entrance. "Half of the rooms are still intact. The last two on the left and the last on the right are done for. I don't think anyone was in them, though. Even if they were, they wouldn't have survived. I'd go back in and check but…" Shuddering, she glanced back.
"No, I'll do it." The words tumbled from Tash's lips, too fast for him to stop. "None of you should go back in. Get to safety."
While I go do something I shouldn't. I'll never learn.
Tash held back a sigh as Jaylone joined Wrenna at the top of the staircase and headed across the ruins. Mayr would yell at him for being careless, and Ress would call him an idiot hero. But I'm no hero. I'm just a stubborn ass who tends to mess up in a relatively useful way. It was not a trait he wished upon their child.
A child he would be lucky to see, assuming they all survived.
Stepping up to the ragged entrance, Tash peered into the darkness. Everything was wrong. He was in the wrong place, led by duty to do what was right. Meanwhile, he was abandoning Arieve. As she brought life into the world, he and Mayr were surrounded by death. At the first test of loyalty, they were failing her.
If the baby's come too soon…
The possibilities hurt more than his injuries.
I can't think about this. I can't do anything with it. Tash climbed over the barrier. He needed to push forward, not panic. The priests were family too.
Followed by Esaline, the carpenter, and the glassmith, Tash assisted each of them into the temple. The corridor was partially lit, revealing cracks in the walls, chunks of ceiling scattered across the floor, and swirling dust clouds. Shadows extended beyond, towards the mountain of collapsed stone that had devoured the furthest end of the hallway. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the sharp sound of rocks tumbling through the crevices.
"Spread out, check every room. Pull out anyone you find." Tash pointed to the left side. "Altar rooms for Hastal and Navara are up here. There are eight, but the last two aren't safe." He started for the rooms on the right as their group divided. "Esaline and I will take Laytia and Emeraliss's rooms."
While Esaline hurried to check the first four altar rooms, all dedicated to Laytia, Tash ran to Emeraliss's rooms. The first chamber was empty, lit by a single white candle by the door. Of the white statues kept in each of the four corners, one had fallen over. Its smashed torso lay in fist-sized pieces around the dented silver bird that once perched on its hand.
The second room was also empty. The silver candelabrum on the table against the back wall lay on its side, wax from its still-lit candles pooled around a wooden bowl of offerings. The vase of flowers had shattered, bright-coloured petals strewn among the glass shards. The black and white marble altar in the centre of the room was cracked, straight through the bust attached to the side. The fissure split open the face of Emeraliss that was carved into the stone, its serene likeness marred by gaping blackness.
Tash fled the chamber. He had tended the altar rooms with diligence, cleansing them, preparing them, and using them for prayer. To see them destroyed…
The scent of incense had never been so sickening.
Crushed by dread, Tash charged into the third room, intending to leave the next moment.
He was not alone.
Tash stopped short. All but one of the statues had toppled over in their corners. Flowers lay in a soaked pile on the table at the back of the room, one glass vase on its side near the edge of the table. A second vase was in pieces on the floor. White candles lay on the table in a haphazard mass of wax and dying flame.
The man at the altar was just as still.
Kneeled with his back to the door, the man resembled a shroud-draped sculpture, his broad body covered by dark, baggy attire. Tears in his long-sleeved shirt revealed light brown skin. The soles of his dirty boots were too worn to be useful much longer. A mass of fabric lay on the floor beside him—a cloak, possibly. There were also three leather belts, one for the waist and two for the thighs, all bearing sheathed knives of different sizes. A short sword waited to his left.
Tash stepped closer. Dark hair tumbled down the man's back to his waist, tangled and greasy. Long strips of frayed beige linen dangled from his few narrow braids. He gripped the edge of the altar with both hands, a silver chain wrapped around his right hand. His body shook as he curled into himself and leaned against the altar. A sob broke the silence, followed by another.
Something was familiar about him. The weapons nagged Tash's memory. Danger and caution found balance with the shock of relief. The sobs… he needed them to stop. Listening wrenched his gut into knots.
"I'm sorry," Tash said, moving
through the room, "but we need to leave. It's not safe."
The sobs paused as the man peered over his shoulder. "That's the whole point," was his hoarse reply. In an awkward turn from the waist, he stared Tash down. Contempt and anger clouded his features, the depth of his disgust on full display.
Nimae. Alive and here. Alone.
Stark realization washed through Tash in an icy wave. His thoughts reeled and screamed, desperate to wage war against the cruelty. They had once been like brothers, facing life and the Shar-denn together with Ress and Varen. Circumstance had bound them, and time had strengthened their camaraderie.
Choices had split them apart, ones Tash could never take back. Whatever their childhood oaths, there was no returning to brotherhood. In one bad decision, Tash had taken Varen's life.
In one swift move, Nimae could exact revenge.
Ress had yet to forgive Tash for turning them in. Nimae would never entertain forgiveness if he knew the truth.
Please, don't let him know. Tash shuffled back, holding his breath. Please let this be a brutal coincidence. Let this be anything but what I think it is.
"Nimae? How are you here?" he whispered. Never had Nimae looked so sickly and bedraggled. He was thinner than Tash had ever seen him, and his dark beard only distorted the image further. While Nimae had always worn his hair long, he had insisted on being well-groomed with a trace of scruff to keep Varen happy.
All of that polish was gone. Even Nimae's tear-swollen eyes—one green, one brown—resembled that of a different man. A miserable, defeated soul with too many lines etched into his face as if they kept score of failures.
"Nice," Nimae spat out, rising to his feet. He clasped the silver chain around his neck and slipped it beneath his shirt. "All I get is a half-assed question when you know I deserve apologies. You're not worth any words and you know it." In a blink, Nimae withdrew a knife from his boot. The blade gleamed as he neared, holding the knife flat and unsteady, directed at Tash's heart. "So maybe I'll stop talking and just end you. That's what you deserve!"
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