by Devri Walls
***
PULLING OUT THE MAP they needed, Alcander spread it across the table. The lake they were currently under was on the far west side of the map. The ocean bordered the northern top of the map, Tavea was on the far eastern side, and slightly to the northwest of Tavea was the area where Jasmine had sent the slaves to search for the Wings.
“There used to be a temple where the Creators were worshiped,” Kiora said. “I know it’s near the palace.”
Alcander looked to Lomay. “I know of no temple.”
“It was long before your time, and it is long gone,” Lomay said.
“I just need to know where it used to be,” Kiora said.
Lomay leaned in. “All that remains is a pile of rubble, here. A passageway begins there and will take us all the way to the throne room.”
Alcander’s eyebrows furrowed. “He just left it there, out in the open?”
“He knew Jasmine would destroy the temple as soon as he was killed. She buried the entrance herself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Temple
THE WOMEN SEEMED NERVOUS at their departure, but Kiora had no idea what the Wings would show them and who they might need to retrieve the Lights. They could be walking into anything and they needed all the help they could get. She took the time to assure the group that they were completely protected, pointing out and explaining the magical barriers in place.
Before they left, Lomay gave instructions for one of the tunnels on the other side of the lake to be manned at all times—in case they needed the door to be opened and were unable to use the entrance Kiora could open with the talisman. No doubt security in the surrounding villages had been increased since the day before.
Kiora rode on Arturo, letting Drustan carry the other three. The closer they got to the remains of the temple, the more nervous she became.
What is bothering you?
She laughed out loud. He knew exactly what she was thinking—he was just being courteous.
Would you rather I not bother with politeness?
Kiora grinned. “I appreciate the gesture. I just wish Drustan wasn’t so bothered by this.”
He is not the only one, Kiora.
She snapped up straight. “What? Who?”
It doesn’t matter.
“What about you? What do you think?”
It doesn’t matter.
“Of course it does!”
Does it? Will it change your mind? Will you go to war against the Shadow’s troops?
Kiora wanted to give him a different answer, for argument’s sake if nothing else, but it died in her throat. “No. I can’t. Not until I have tried to save as many as I can.” She stared at the ground racing below them. The trees were nearly bare of leaves now—they reminded her of death. “That’s what I am here for, isn’t it? To save them.”
Then you have made your choice. It is of no use to be bothered by others’ lack of support unless you intend to take their opinions into account.
“Sometimes your logic is annoying.”
It only annoys you when you do not like what I am saying.
“I didn’t like that either,” she muttered.
As I said.
Kiora leaned forward, relaxing against Arturo’s neck. “How did life get so complicated so quickly?”
You grew up. Morcant would be proud of you.
Kiora smiled.
I am proud of you.
“Even if you don’t agree with me?”
Even then.
It was a pleasant ride, just her and Arturo. The grass below them was losing its color—winter was sending its warnings. She wondered about the tale Drustan had told when they first crossed through the mountains out of Meros—how snow covered the ground. She could hardly imagine. Meros rarely received more than a dusting, and it seemed to leave as soon as it arrived.
When they finally saw the place Lomay claimed was the site of the old temple, Kiora began to question her information. It was a pile of rubble. Kiora had expected the rubble, but perhaps on a larger scale. The threads of the slaves and slave masters came flooding down from just over the hill as they drew nearer. The temple was close enough to hear the shovels and pickaxes as the slaves excavated.
Landing, Kiora threw a large bubble over the entire site and waited. A few minutes later, Lomay, Emane, Alcander, and Drustan appeared beneath the bubble.
Drustan looked around. “I must admit, I expected more.”
“Me too,” Kiora said. “Are you sure this is the right spot?”
“Quite,” Lomay replied. He reached out his hand, and the large rectangular rocks began to lift away from the site. They were massive, each one taller than her and clearly hand-hewn, judging by the rough edges. Eight different rocks came up from the deep grooves in the ground, covered with mud and teeming with insect life.
“There we are,” Lomay said, leaning again on his cane.
Below the rocks was a set of stairs disappearing into the earth.
“The temple is underground?” Emane asked, peering down the hole.
Kiora couldn’t see more than four steps deep. The rest was plunged in blackness.
“There used to be skylights that poured light over the altars at different times of day and in different seasons. The effect was said to be quite spectacular.”
“Lomay, if you could light the way, I will put up an enclosure and be down right behind you.”
Kiora waited until everyone had gone below before turning to Arturo.
As I told you, Pegasi do not belong underground. I will wait for you above. Call me if you need me.
Kiora hesitated. “What about your thread? We are so close to the Shadow’s people—your thread would alert them before you get high enough to vanish.”
Arturo hesitated, snorting before lowering himself to the ground and folding his wings across his back. Very well. I will wait for you here.
Kiora built an enclosure around Arturo and the entrance to keep their threads safe as they searched for the Wings. She had just turned to go down the stairs when two threads appeared within her border. She whirled as Arturo mentally yelled out a warning.
A Tavean and a Shifter stood before her. She was so shocked at their sudden appearance that she didn’t have the presence of mind to block before the Tavean blasted a shot at her. She grunted, spinning as the magic caught her shoulder. This was not a warning shot—it gave her a wicked gash and dislocated her shoulder. Blood poured down her arm. Arturo reared on his hind legs, catching the Shifter in the forehead with his hoof. She pushed a shield out.
Kiora, they think of nothing but death.
The spell she read earlier flashed through her mind as the Tavean’s next shot ran into her shield. Her left arm was useless—she couldn’t even lift it, which meant that to deliver another shot, she would need to drop her shield. The Shifter grew a long set of claws and sliced through Arturo’s front legs. A loud whinny burst from him. Kneeling, Kiora put her hand to the ground, trusting that Arturo would hear her intentions.
Grabbing control of the earth, she pushed it outward, forcing the dirt into a rolling wave that picked up the Tavean and the Shifter, knocking them off their feet. Arturo lifted off the ground with a few flaps to avoid the force.
Kiora tossed her shield to the side, her hand flying out with the spell she had been so disgusted by hours earlier. Her aim was off and only succeeded in rolling the Shifter to the side. The Tavean pulled to his feet with a snarl. Trying again, Kiora took another shot at the Tavean. This time her aim was right on. It caught him on the chin, wrapping itself around the lower half of his face. The spell ripped his head to the side, snapping his spine. The Tavean dropped, and the Shifter scrambled up.
He is going for help!
Kiora used magic to jerk the Shifter backwards as Emane and Alcander came charging up the stairs, yelling her name. The Shifter growled, beginning to elongate. Arturo shoved thoughts toward her about his intentions, something about poisonous spit. Kiora willed a rock up an
d sent it hurtling at the Shifter. It slammed into him, his thread going quiet just as Alcander burst through the opening, Emane right behind.
“Kiora!” Emane skidded to a stop.
“No,” she said, gripping her shoulder. “Arturo first.”
Kiora, don’t be foolish.
“Please, Emane.”
Emane was not happy but did as requested, healing the Pegasus’ front two legs before turning back to Kiora.
Her gaze was glued to the lifeless Tavean. His open eyes looked at her as if in accusation.
You were defending yourself, Kiora. There is no crime here.
Kiora didn’t bother with a response as Emane healed her.
“How did they find us?” Emane asked.
“They must have noticed when the rocks moved and came to investigate,” Alcander said. “With as many threads as there are around here, we wouldn’t have noticed two a little closer than the rest.”
Standing up, Kiora tried to ignore the death around her. “Let’s go,” she said. “Arturo, if anyone else comes, warn me and then get out of here.”
Emane and Alcander exchanged a glance.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Emane asked.
She hesitated. “I don’t think I will ever be all right, not until this is over.” Calling blue fire to her hand, she descended the stairs. She wanted to put the rocks back in place to minimize the risk of being discovered again, but they needed air and she didn’t know where else it was going to come from.
The air below smelled stale and musty, like it had been locked in there for thousands of years. Now it mixed with the new, cool air that flowed down the staircase like a river of life.
The light from her hand bounced off what was once a beautiful blue-and-yellow-tiled wall. The colors were muted and the pieces were chipped now, but much care had gone into preparing it. At the bottom of the stairs, she found Lomay and Drustan in a large circular area. Lomay had laid balls of flame around the room, illuminating several empty altars. The tilework also ran over the floor and magnificent paintings spanned the breadth of the walls. The artist was skilled, far and above Lomay’s abilities. The Dragon Queen stretched across one wall, her tail curling around the front of the room. In the mosaic she was young and strong—the aged white scales were gone. Reds and yellows and oranges flowed over her in vivid brilliance. Nestor’s image occupied the other wall, with the other Creators behind him in a “V” shape.
“The room is a sealed circle, Kiora,” Drustan said. “Where do we go from here?”
She looked around the room for the door she had seen in Nestor’s memories. “Were there any other temples?” Kiora asked.
“Not close, no.”
“The door has to be here somewhere,” she said, running her fingers over the walls. “Check the altars—maybe there is something that can help us.” Her frustration was growing. Why would Nestor lead her here and not show her where she was supposed to go?
She made her way around the front of the room to a painting of the heavens—sun, moon, and stars. She slid her hand carefully over it, hoping to feel something that her eyes could not see.
Tilting her head to the side, she examined the wall closer. She had never seen this painting before, but it had been bordered with detailed paintings of vines and flowers that looked very familiar. She studied it for a while, trying to piece together what it meant. “This is it, but I don’t know how to get through,” she said, slamming her hand against the wall.
“Nestor failed to show you how to get through the door?” Alcander said dryly.
“Yes, he did. I…” She trailed off at a familiar sound. At first her heart jerked into her throat, worried that something was coming down the stairs—something that had managed to silence Arturo before he could warn them—but she quickly realized the sound was coming from within the room. It was the sound of hundreds of chattering beetles.
Alcander dropped into a crouch, scanning. Emane’s hand shifted to his sword.
“It’s all right,” Kiora said, putting her hand out as Drustan began to grow claws. “I think this is exactly what we need.”
A moment later, beetles spilled out from underneath altars, surging toward her. They clambered up her legs, climbing over the top of one another as they covered her. She gritted her teeth. The feeling of tiny notched feet set her nerves jangling. These beetles were smaller than the ones of Meros, and solid green. Despite the size difference, her limbs grew heavy under their weight. She waited for a leader to come to her shoulder and speak to her, but none did.
There was chattering, antenna waving, and then—she gasped as one slipped under the neck of her shirt to examine the talisman. The beetle let out a chirp of excitement. As if that were the sign they were waiting for, the others scurried back to the ground in a sea of green, flowing toward the painting Kiora had been examining. They scuttled up the wall, each taking their place until the painting was concealed beneath their tiny green bodies. As the last beetle took his place, a click rumbled through the room before rock and beetle rained to the ground, sending dust billowing out.
Kiora turned her head, coughing into her arm. As the dust settled, the door she had seen in her memories stood exposed. There was no knob. Placing her hand in the middle, she pushed. It swung open with an ancient groan.
***
BEHIND THE DOOR WAS a dirt tunnel, steep enough to force Kiora back on her heels as they descended so she wouldn’t tumble down head first. She held out the flame and ran it along the wall. Strange striations appeared every so often, like something had clawed at the dirt. The strange marks were followed immediately by a steeper section. Her toes were crammed against the front of her boots and the deeper they went, the wetter the walls became, turning from dirt to mud. The earth beneath their feet began to squelch, water filling in the depressions their feet left.
“Am I the only one not liking this?” Emane asked.
“Yes,” Drustan said from the back. “I am having a lovely time myself. A nice subterranean stroll. What is there to complain about?”
Kiora smiled, shaking her head at Emane’s exasperated sigh.
“Drustan, why don’t you sprout some wings and fly ahead?” Alcander said.
“Yes,” Emane joined in. “Maybe you could see if we will be swimming here soon.”
“Why would I do that? I am in back. You two should alert me to any problems well in advance.”
“You’re right, Emane. He is insufferable,” Alcander said, jerking his foot free of the mud.
“I have contributed to your blooming friendship,” Drustan drawled. “I have never felt more honored.”
Kiora looked over her shoulder with a frown. Blooming friendship? How had she not noticed that? Alcander leaned in and muttered something in Emane’s ear. Kiora raised her eyebrow as Emane laughed.
“What was that?” Drustan shouted.
“Alcander was just suggesting that if swimming becomes a necessity, we can have you shift into a Jaggerlit.”
“Very clever,” Drustan said. “You two make quite the team.”
Lomay chuckled as Kiora asked, “What is a Jaggerlit?”
Emane was all too happy to explain. “Alcander tells me it is a very large fish with no mouth.”
“He would be far less annoying without a mouth,” Alcander said dryly.
Kiora giggled. “How does it eat?”
“It extends its stomach, which opens like a mouth,” Lomay said. “And bathes you in acid to make up for its lack of teeth.”
“Oooh,” Drustan said. “That does sound appealing. I am getting terribly hungry with all this walking. I wonder if royalty taste better than the rest of us.”
“We’re here,” Kiora announced, coming to a halt and grateful for it. This conversation was going nowhere good.
A door stretched so high it disappeared into the muddy ceiling. Cautiously, she pushed the door inward.
“Kiora!” Alcander grabbed her, jerking her backwards as the mud that had been leaning on
the door for support crumbled, spilling into the tunnel and through the palace doors. She slammed into his back as he wrapped his arm around her waist. His heart hammered as his magic raced into her at every point they were connected.
Emane looked away, his loose, relaxed stance tightening before he began crawling over the pile of mud that stood head high.
Alcander righted her, nudging her forward. As they stepped into the marble corridor, Drustan flew over the mud, large white wings on his back. He landed next to them, not a speck of mud on him.
“Now he sprouts wings,” Emane grumbled.
“It suited my purposes.”
Kiora wasn’t listening to their banter as she made her way down the hall in the direction she knew the throne room to be. Nervous excitement wrapped around her. She was both giddy and terrified all at the same time. Everything rested on what happened next. Her eyes ran over the marble floors and pillars. It was exactly as she dreamed it.
Lomay touched her elbow. “Doing all right?” he whispered as the other three bickered behind them.
“It is just strange to be here,” she said. “I have seen it so many times before. It feels different than I thought it would.”
Lomay nodded. “Strong presences—both good and evil—leave their mark. Their essence permeates their surroundings. This was once the home of all the Creators. You can still feel their presence even after all these years.”
The hall opened up into the main throne room, silencing the three behind her. The windows she had seen Nestor look out of in her visions were now dark with the mud that surrounded the palace. The thrones were simple—more like high-backed chairs. She appreciated that. They were carved beautifully, with scrolling arms and claw feet, but a far cry from the extravagance of the throne in Meros.
She walked straight to the far end of the room. Placing her hand on the wall, she whispered an incantation Nestor had shown her. Stepping back, she watched expectantly as the wall shimmered, exposing a magnificent set of Wings.
They were taller than any of the Wings she had seen, stretching out wider as well. The feathers were as long as her arm and the gold glittered in the light with a rich intensity. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Emane’s mouth hanging open while Alcander and Drustan had both taken a knee, heads bowed in respect. Lomay placed his hand on her shoulder.
