Jeremy eased in behind her and slipped a hand around her waist. "Easy Danielle. You'll get yourself killed rushing in here."
"It's okay Jeremy." She peered into Jeremy's watery eyes and smiled. "The tree's calling for me."
She inched two steps forward, closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the tree.
The others filed in around her and held a silent vigil. Green energy rolled from her skin and surrounded her in an emerald shroud.
The sapling's consciousness buzzed inside her mind. She felt the tree's thrill of discovery. "It's excited to see me."
"Danielle, wait," Keely said stepping forward. "Something here isn't right."
A needle sharp pain pierced the back of her mind and she let loose an agony-filled scream.
The presence pulled on her magic reserves, stripping away energy.
The tree gulped in her energy feeding like a parasite. Its thin branches stretched outward doubling in size. Ripe fist-sized fruit hung heavy on its limbs.
"This can't be," she said voice trembling. She shook her head and screamed.
Jagged, needle-sharp leaves twisted from the tree's branches. Glistening red thorns sprouted along its limbs.
Her insides twisted and pain wracked her body. She dropped to her knees screaming and grabbed her head.
Limbs shot outward wrapping Keely and Arber in a thorny grip.
Spirit magic leaped from Jeremy's outstretched palm. Blue energy splattered against the tree's trunk and bounced away.
A branch raced forward and its limb turned into a liquidy red fist and pounded Jeremy's chest.
The shield knight let loose a hard grunt. Jeremy staggered backward and smashed into a barrel. The knight's mouth widened as if gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. A moment later, Jeremy's eyes closed.
She writhed on the ground, her body locked in seizure. Unchecked energy flowed from her body into the tree.
The tree's limbs pierced a crystal barrel and drained its liquid contents. The overpowering stench of cinnamon filled the air. The heartwood's trunk groaned before doubling in size and towering a dozen feet over the group.
Ormond turned to run when a thorny limb circled the shaman's neck and yanked. Blood poured from Ormond's open mouth. The tree pulled the writhing shaman across the floor. "No." Ormond's word came out in a strained gurgle.
The tree trunk opened. Like a nest of vipers, hundreds of bright-red thorns glistened inside.
With a last scream of desperation, Ormond disappeared inside the trunk. The opening slammed shut and the screaming stopped.
Outside the room, Brees stood frozen, staring slack-jawed.
Her gaze locked on Brees. "Help me," she said in a whimper. "I'm dying."
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Mistros
"I think we're here." Ronan wiped away the perspiration beading on his forehead. He leaned against a makeshift walking stick and squinted toward the horizon. Three days of hard travel from the sansan camp and his feet screamed for mercy.
Tongue flickering, General Demos scanned the horizon. "This place.... It feels wrong."
"The sansan told us we'd reach the ruins after three days. This is the third day." He pointed toward a withered leafless tree on the horizon. "See the acacia tree? Look to its right. I see the edge of an old building or structure of some kind."
General Demos nodded. "I see it. I also taste death. The sansan are right to avoid this place."
"Do you have a better idea?" he said. "We're wasting time out here, and we can't move forward until I remove whatever is blocking my magic. This place is our last hope."
"I understand," General Demos said. "But, this place takes life. It will take yours and mine too."
"We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen," he said. "Come on." He strode ahead.
Brown ankle-high grass whisked at his boots.
His ears perked, but he heard nothing except for his and the general's stride. Not the chirping of crickets or the hum of cicadas. The savanna beneath the twilight sky sounded dead.
The sansan guides warned him, but he'd not taken their words literally. How could miles of grassland be empty of all life? At least they hadn't feared another animal attack, and the faceless man had kept away. For that, he was grateful.
He didn't need General Demos's warning to feel ill at ease. His skin crawled and his instincts told him to turn and leave, but he had nowhere left to go.
After fifteen minutes of walking they reached the ruins. A crumbling pyramid peeked out above the dead grass. A silent soldier basking in the early evening sunlight.
Behind him, General Demos paused and gazed on the temple. The general's eyes narrowed.
"What's wrong?"
"We should make camp here," General Demos said. "As night falls, whatever haunts these ruins will hold more power. We will find relative safety on the plains."
The idea of traipsing through haunted ruins at night made his stomach spin. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."
General Demos's gaze lingered on the temple.
He nodded toward the nearby acacia tree. "I'll see about collecting some firewood."
General Demos nodded without meeting his gaze.
The general appeared shaken. The idea left him feeling unsettled. He slipped free his leather pack, eased it onto the grass, and headed for the nearby acacia tree.
A blur flashed in the corner of his eye.
His flesh prickled and he whirled toward the presence. Nothing. His own imagination fueled by the wrongness of this place. He inhaled a steadying breath and turned again toward the acacia.
A figure clad in black stood motionless beneath the leafless limbs. Shadows left the figure's face shrouded from view.
He froze not daring to move a muscle and held his breath. Waves of fear flashed behind his eyes and he struggled against the instinct to run.
A hand gripped his shoulder and he whirled, reaching for his blade.
General Demos stood motionless holding a lit torch. Welcoming fire chased away the nearby shadows while inky smoke curled into the air.
Tongue flickering, the general's gaze drifted from the acacia tree to his. "Perhaps we should keep moving."
He spun around to face the figure.
Empty space appeared where he’d seen the faceless man.
He whirled and faced General Demos. "Did you see him?"
"I did."
"Why didn't he attack us? There's nothing here to stop him," he said.
"Perhaps this place lies outside his reach?"
His shoulders sagged. "I think you're right. We should move on," he said in a low throaty tone.
General Demos handed him his leather pack. The general turned and slid through the grass before rounding the ruined temple.
His nerves calmed and he followed leaning into the walking stick.
Waist high grass rustled around General Demos while the men trudged deeper into the ruins.
Nine stone pyramids dotted the high grass ahead. At the ruin's center, a stone pyramid rose higher than those surrounding it.
General Demos studied the structure from bottom to top before nodding. "Yes. That's it."
"What do you mean?"
"I wasn't sure at first," General Demos said. "But, now I am. Well... I'm as sure as any man can be." The general's arm spread outward. "This place. I've studied it."
"Studied it?"
"A sect of ancient baerinese once inhabited this place." The general gestured toward the crumbling pyramids. "Six structures stand in the outer triangle, and three more in the inner. All guarding the central temple."
"Guarding?"
"The ancients found strength in the symbol. They believed it protected them from evil."
He surveyed the line of temples, "Each side looks..."
"Symmetrical?" General Demos said.
"Yes. Even after centuries of neglect."
"I've seen drawings, but this is something else," General Demos said.
"What's the cen
tral spire used for?"
"Rituals. Sacrifices. These people prayed to an angry God."
His stomach sank. "That explains the feeling of dread."
"Baerinese ancients were a war-like people."
"Were?"
A smile appeared on the general's face. "Point taken."
"I don’t know where to begin looking," he said. "It could take weeks."
"What we seek, we'll find in the heart of the central spire. On the third floor."
"You sound so sure."
"I'm sure of the history, but not as much the historians." The general's smile tightened. "People use history to conceal lies."
The weight of unseen eyes bore down from the shadows. A slight shiver rolled along his spine. "We should make the remaining daylight count."
General Demos nodded and held the torch high as they made their way across the outer ring.
"How do we get in?"
General demos glanced at him but kept walking forward. "The ancients knew how to guard a secret."
"Oh?" He glanced over his shoulder and scanned the ruins.
Two trampled paths of grass stretched out behind him.
General Demos passed by one of the temples making up the ruin's inner ring. "A series of pressure plates triggered by the right combination opened a door at the temple's apex."
"You can't possibly know the combination," he said.
General Demos didn't answer and the silky sound of shifting grass filled the silence.
"I hope you have a backup plan," he said.
"The exact combination was unique to each city," General Demos said.
"City? I don't see anything resembling an entire city."
"The ancient baerinese were a subterranean people. They built their cities beneath their temples."
"Why?"
"Easiest to defend from warring tribes." General Demos paused at the base of the central spire and glanced upward.
A four-hundred foot pyramid built from white stone blocks stood before them. Unlike the temples surrounding the pyramid, time and weather had not eroded the stone.
Any sign of a door or an entry point eluded his initial scan. "You're sure about the entrance?"
General Demos shook his head. "The past month has caused me to doubt everything I once believed. I know what the historians wrote. That is all I can promise."
"Then we climb." With a low grunt, he heaved his body over the first of a hundred stone steps leading to the top.
General Demos leaped and landed beside him on the first step. The general offered a hand. "Let me help you."
"No thanks." He waved off General Demos. "I can make it."
General Demos gave a short nod and hopped upward landing on the next step.
He stood and pulled himself over the second step, his breath coming in short hard pulls.
Thirty minutes later, his tunic clung to his back and droplets of sweat rolled from his brow. Perspiration splattered the white rock beneath him.
The sun disappeared behind the horizon. A field of stars littered the night sky casting a thin veil of light across the rolling grasslands.
With his breath coming in heavy strained pulls, he rolled sideways and clawed to a seated position. He leaned against the stone marking the pyramid's apex and paused to catch his breath.
General Demos circled the apex stone, a broad flat triangular stone. "I wouldn't have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes."
He staggered to his feet and mopped the sweat from his brow. "What is it?"
A high-pitched scream broke the silence and echoed across the ruins.
He whirled tugging at the blade on his belt.
A steel blade appeared in General Demos's hand. The general's eyes turned into a hard squint.
A woman's scream. Adrenaline poured through his body relieving the fatigue.
The low rumble of shifting and sliding rock reverberated from a nearby temple. Which one he couldn't determine.
"Look," General Demos pointed toward the ground.
His skin prickled and went ice cold.
A heavy white mist smothered the high grass below.
"It's like the first night," he said.
A loud clang sounded from behind and he whirled searching the pyramid's face.
General Demos let loose a low hiss and faced the triangular apex stone.
From within the mist came a low growling.
The sound of heavy dragging stood the short hair on his neck straight up. He stole a glance over his shoulder. "Hurry, we can't stay here."
"These symbols, I've seen them before." General Demos touched the stone's smooth surface. "The translation escapes me."
"There isn't time for a history lesson." He whirled left and glanced across the ruins.
Standing on the edge of the outer triangle, the shrouded figure hovered like a specter inside the mist.
His heart hammered and he tightened the grip on his blade. "The faceless man. Hurry General Demos."
"If I trigger the wrong order, we face severe consequences."
He blinked and the faceless man appeared standing inside the inner triangle. "We already face them. He'll be on us any second."
General Demos pressed a pressure plate at the triangular symbol's apex.
A low rumbling noise came from inside the pyramid and the stone beneath his feet shook.
"I don't know if this is the correct order," General Demos said. "I need time to translate the inscriptions."
The shrouded figure appeared at the base of the pyramid and tilted its gaze upward to meet his.
His breath caught and he glared over his shoulder. "We're out of time."
General Demos pressed a pressure plate on the apex stone's lower left corner.
The pressure plate slid away. An empty socket appeared beneath.
General Demos’s eyes widened. “It’s missing.”
“What’s missing?” He glanced between General Demos and the faceless man.
“The trigger stone,” the general said. “Someone stole it.”
The blood drained from his face. “What does it look like?”
“It’s a smooth, flat stone,” General Demos said with eyes narrowed.
Zeke’s words came back to him and he fumbled in his belt pouch.
“What are you doing?”
He found the stone Zeke gave him and held it high. “Is this it?”
“Yes.” General Demos gaped at the stone.
“Here.” He tossed the stone and General Demos caught it.
The general pushed the stone into the socket and stood back.
An echoing click and a deep rumble set the pyramid shaking. Loose stone rattled down the steps and the white stone cracked. Splinters appeared on the stone nearest them.
His stomach sank and he jumped backward. "This is wrong."
General Demos's gaze flashed across the stone.
A high-pitched shriek split the air and his skin crawled.
General Demos stepped forward and twisted the trigger stone.
The rumbling stopped and the pyramid fell silent.
With ears perked, he turned in a slow circle. "Did you open the door?"
"I —" General Demos's eyes widened in shock.
The stone beneath his feet disappeared. A sickening falling sensation sent his insides tumbling.
Blackness of a kind he'd never experienced blotted his vision. He fumbled outward trying to find a handhold. Nothing.
He plummeted falling faster and farther than he'd climbed during his ascent. He cried out for General Demos, but his words came out as a scream.
With a low grunt he slammed into the ground and a sickening crack echoed around him. Pain raced through both legs, hot and merciless. Pain flared across his back and chest before he settled to a stop.
A field of white stars flashed across his vision before the world snuffed out.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Elan’s Great Library
Tara's gaze followed the marble column'
s smooth lines.
Four white columns stood before Prynesse's grand cathedral. The cathedral stood at one end of the city's government circle. Tourists and politicians bustled across the cobblestone circle.
She turned in a slow circle and took in the grandeur.
A pair of hooded monks strode past her and Jo.
The clip-clop of a wagon team clattered against the cobblestones. A sleek black-lacquered wagon appeared beside her. A fresh-faced girl, not much younger than Jo, peeked through the drawn curtains.
She tucked away an errant strand of blond hair and tore her gaze from the girl's prying eyes. Of everywhere she'd visited in Meranthia, Prynesse had left her feeling the most out of sorts.
Jo turned her back on the monks before they disappeared into a monastery beside the cathedral.
A monastery decorated with gleaming silver ornaments. Its high beveled walls stood near as tall as the cathedral.
Either the notion of piety had changed during the centuries, or her memories had faded. Elan, not a religious man by any measure, would've found himself out of place in this version of Meranthia.
"That's not it." Jo tugged on her sleeve. "You'll find nothing but trouble inside those walls."
She gaped at the stunning buildings crowding the city center.
Behind her, a statue of Elan stood perched atop a thirty-foot marble base. Opposite the cathedral, an ivory building with a golden dome loomed over the city center. A modest gray-stoned building stood near the statue of Elan.
Jo pointed toward the gray-stoned building. "That's it."
"How did you know where to find the library?" She said.
Jo's face flushed. The girl glanced past her toward a group of passing nobles. Jo leaned in and spoke in a hushed voice. "I've spent some time in this city."
More secrets. "You're sure it holds Elan's original writings?"
Jo nodded. "People travel from everywhere to visit the Great Library."
She needed more than Elan's original notes. In fact, those notes wouldn't help her at all. But, her notebook would. "What about other tomes?"
"You have to trust me Tara." Jo's eyes shifted right then left. The girl spoke again, voice lower than before. "I've spent time inside the archives."
Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Page 31
