by Rin Chupeco
“Tea and me, Zoya and Althy if they’re up for it, a half dozen more asha and Deathseekers. Some soldiers to guard the entrance, perhaps, and the rest to make sure the Drychta survivors don’t try anything else,” Kalen replied.
“The Drychta survivors are down to manageable numbers,” Althy agreed. “They’re the lucky ones, given the fates of their comrades. Perhaps they will be amenable to surrender now.”
King Kance sighed. “This will put you all in greater danger.”
“There’s not a lot of choice at this point.” Kalen allowed himself a smile, drawn tight at the edges. “And that’s part of our job description. In fact, I’d rather start sooner than later. Once Tea has rested enough.” There was a question behind his words.
I nodded. “I’m fine, and I’m ready. The Drychta think we’ll be licking our wounds, and they’ll surely be tending to theirs. They won’t expect an attack so quickly after the last.”
Althy nodded. “I’ll send for the other asha.”
“Are you sure, Tea?” Kance asked, momentarily forgetting to be formal. “This is…” He paused, and his heartsglass supplied the rest: This is asking too much of you.
“This is bigger than any of us, Your Majesty. Aadil’s actions imperil the rest of the kingdoms, including his own.” I cleared my throat. “We won’t have much communication once we’re in the Wall, and I might need someone to scry in too, so I can inform you of what happens inside. I propose that Khalad be my—”
“No. Let me do it.”
“Your Majesty—”
“Khalad still has a lot of work to help the wounded, and my other generals need to focus on other matters should Aadil attack again. Allow me to be your Scrying vessel, Tea. Let me be useful.”
I took a quick, surreptitious glance at Kalen, who inclined his head ever so slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
• • •
The planning was quick but meticulous. There would only be a handful of people heading into the mountains with us, mostly asha and what Deathseekers General Lode could afford to spare, while the rest surrounded the mountain in anticipation of further attacks. Mithra’s Wall, I learned, had dozens of entrances, and Knox supplied us with most of that knowledge. He too had volunteered to accompany us despite his injury.
“Most of the caves inside are interconnected,” he told us. “And from what King Kance’s spies have reported, Aadil entered one of the topmost entrances. I’ve explored those caves before with my buddies in the past, and I’m the only one here experienced with the routes and passageways along that tier. They’re not as many as the ones below it, and almost all the openings lead into a large chamber, so you should have no trouble finding anyone hiding inside.”
The remnants of the Drychta army were unlike what anyone expected. All the fight had leached out of the men. They were waiting almost meekly when we arrived and, once we were near enough, deliberately threw down their spears, axes, and bows.
“They’re surrendering,” Zoya noted with astonishment. “But why? Could this be another trap?”
“Let’s find out.” General Lode strode forward and barked a command in Drychta. One of the men responded in a long, halting monologue, and all sank to their knees in unison.
“They’re frightened,” the man translated. “They’ve been worked hard and nearly starved the last few days. The blighted were the last straw. All they want is some food and water, and they’re more than willing to let us pass. This man says they’ve been mistreated terribly. They were promised good wages for their families if they followed Aadil into battle, but they have not been paid. He says their king is a madman.”
“That’s horrible,” Althy breathed softly.
Lode frowned. “I’m not sure if I translated this correctly, but they claim there is forbidden magic in their bones, and that they have been condemned to the seven hells by Aadil, who threatened to turn them into demons if they disobeyed.”
A chill ran through me. I knew what that meant. Had Aadil allowed all his army to be blighted? “Stay away from them,” I barked at the general and wove my Delving. My heart lurched at what I saw: the runes festered red in the air before them, all compromised.
Kalen was already one step ahead of the others. “Channel wards on them all!” he barked at both asha and Deathseekers alike. “Do it quickly, while we still have time!” His hands were a blur, wrapping tendrils of protective magic around the Drychta who had spoken, then hurried to the next.
The others were quick to act, and before long, the air was alive with brilliant magic, spells cloaking the poor soldiers to keep them safe from further harm. “What tyrant would blight his own people?” Kance gasped. “His own loyal soldiers? This is unthinkable!”
“I am entirely unsurprised, given all the stories I’ve heard of Aadil,” Zoya said drolly, firmly tying off a ward around another grateful fighter. “Good thing we didn’t think to wait for them to come. Aadil could have sent them after us next.”
“Too late!” Althy shouted. Some of the other half dozen soldiers who had yet to be warded were starting to change. Desperate, still beseeching, their features warped, and I could only watch helplessly as their new, grisly forms sealed their fate. The other, more fortunate Drychta scrambled away from their transformed comrades, shouting frantically.
But how? Who had woven the rune? All the men were within my line of sight, and not one of them had moved.
Some instinct told me to look up. High above a ledge, a cloaked figure stood, an arm raised. There was a quick, cutting gesture, and the last of the unwarded, blighted men completed their horrific metamorphosis. The hooded shape lingered for a few moments, staring down at me. The distance was too far for me to make out any features, but I knew who it must be.
A blast of lightning erupted from Zoya’s fingertips, aimed at the cowled stranger.
But the figure stepped away, avoiding the attack, almost dismissive of the attempt, and the lightning sizzled harmlessly against the escarpment. The figure twisted its head in my direction. I could not see its face but knew its eyes were on me, cold and assessing, before it turned and disappeared back into the—
The Dark asha’s letter ended there. The rest of the tale was missing.
“You were always impulsive, Zoya,” the bone witch said, “though I would be a hypocrite to criticize you for something I have always been guilty of myself.”
“Let me go,” Zoya told her, “and I can offer you another refresher.”
The Dark asha laughed at that.
“Why hadn’t you thought to tell us before, little uchenik?” Lord Rahim pleaded. “Why such secrecy? Why did you have to burn a mountain?”
“Because there is a traitor among you. I discovered it only recently, after you had all left the safety of Ankyo’s runic wards. I would denounce the betrayer, but what good would that do? You would have never believed me before, and it was more advantageous for me to keep an eye on her where she was, rather than have her flee once more into parts unknown.”
“Who is it?” Lord Fox was tight-lipped and trembling, the sword heavy in his hands. He raised it toward the Dark asha. She did not move, did not compel him. She watched him instead, and somehow that was worse.
“Do you finally believe me, Fox? You were right. I killed Daisy. I might not remember it, but it was my hand that did the deed. But I was not myself. I did not need someone to compel me, to carry out their orders. I made that discovery far too late.” Her voice fell. “And Likh…”
Khalad wept. His sobs were soft, barely discernible; in the quiet, they could cut stone.
“Tea,” King Kance said in a soft, satin timbre. “Tell us. Please.”
These were the songs they would never play at the darashi oyun, the dances Vernasha of the Roses would have burned along with her books. All eyes were on Lady Tea as she took the stage, and a new tale lay poised at her fingertips, the m
issing pieces eager to fall into place.
“Let me tell you the rest of the story,” she said.
22
The caves of Mithra’s Wall were unlike the caves at Stranger’s Peak; the ground was riddled with limestone stalagmites and the lichen-covered walls were moist to the touch, sticking my hair to the back of my neck and leaving my palms sweaty from the moisture-heavy air. We had raced into the caves after the hooded figure while General Lode covered our backs, defending us from what was left of the blighted men. I could feel my azi already on the offensive, its three mouths aflame. We had no choice. I would be more useful confronting the Faceless inside than I would fighting the terrible beasts outside.
“I can see why these caves are free of tourists,” Zoya grunted, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. The asha wore loose-fitting blouses and traveler’s skirts to make the climb easier, but I smelled heavy clouds of magic wafting from the spells sewn into their clothes. Zoya was in the lead, and runes of Light surrounded her, glowing dimly.
“Quiet now,” Althy cautioned. “It shouldn’t be long before we come to the large pocket chambers that Knox spoke of.”
Mithra’s Wall, I remembered, had been a favorite hideaway of the great hero it was named for. The ranges had supposedly come into being when Mithra commanded the earth to rise, to stop the nanghait from demolishing his beloved Ashi’s hometown of Thanh. But while the caves held little attraction for the average visitor, they were popular for explorers and spelunkers, and those who made the yearly pilgrimage to worship Mithra as a god in his own right.
As Althy had predicted, the narrow passageway soon opened into a large chamber, one I had seen in popular paintings and lithographs. It was the cave where Mithra famously rested after defeating the daeva, considered by many to be a holy place. Any traces of previous habitation had long since disappeared, whatever artifacts left behind no doubt stolen by adventurers over the years. There was nothing beyond a few broken pieces of wood, and a small, dark pool at the farthest wall. Neither Aadil nor the Faceless were present.
“There is something wrong here, Lady Altaecia.” One of the asha, a young woman named Ginrei, spoke up. “This chamber has no exits beyond the one we entered. If Lord Knox is right, and if Lady Tea is positive this passage is where Druj disappeared, then they could not have left without our seeing them.”
I cast my mind briefly toward Kance’s thoughts, scrying swiftly. The decision to ward as many of the Drychta as possible had proven beneficial, I saw. The fight had been speedy, if brutal. Did anyone leave the caves after we entered? I asked him.
He jumped, startled by the unexpected voice in his head. “No. Khalad and I have been watching.”
They’re not in Mithra’s chamber. They must have escaped through some other means. Please ask General Lode to guard the mountain paths and keep further watch, just in case.
“Understood, Lady Tea.”
“Kance and Khalad saw nothing,” I told the rest.
“Surely they couldn’t have gone to another apex in the range this quickly?” Zoya asked. “It would take years to search them all.”
“Can you sense Druj?” Kalen asked me.
“The Faceless is very good at masking his thoughts. I’ve been trying to find him, to no effect.”
Knox cleared his throat. “That’s not quite accurate, actually. That the chamber is a dead end, I mean.”
Althy rounded on him, looking cross. “Now is not the time for riddles, Knox. Out with it.”
The Yadoshan coughed. “I wasn’t intending to hide it, lady asha. It’s been some time since I traveled here, but I now remember. There’s another way out.” He pointed toward the small pool. “We were curious, milady. Nearly drowned getting to the other end, since we didn’t know how long the underground spring traveled. Blacked out a bit before Aden managed to pull my head out of the water. But there wasn’t anything much on the other side, only another smaller chamber. Granted, we didn’t explore it much. The wind was chillier there, and we all wanted drier clothes.”
Althy sighed; she could have groaned Yadoshans, and it would have sounded the same. “How far along is the spring?”
“You won’t need to hold your breath too long. There’s a fork in the spring though. Go down the wrong end and there’s nothing to surface to, which was what nearly got me.”
“We will take better precautions than you or your friends did, but you will lead the way. You do remember how to get there, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The other asha and Deathseekers cobbled together an ingenious combination of Air and Water runes that allowed us small pockets of air while we swam underneath the surface—more than enough to get through the underwater tunnel. Kalen and the others insisted on retaining their hold on their weapons, not wanting to emerge unarmed on the other side, and our progress was slower than I would have hoped.
It was a new experience to swim while we breathed. Zoya manifested enough Light underwater to ensure none of us were separated, and we resurfaced without any problems.
Kalen had exercised caution, sending Shield runes jutting out into the air before anyone of us left the water, but no enemy waited for us on the banks. We took our time drying off with more Wind and Fire while my love took it upon himself to explore the immediate area. “It’s as Knox said,” he observed. “There’s a smaller passageway down to the right though, half-hidden by some formations. The Faceless might have gone through there.”
“They did,” I said bleakly. “Be careful, all of you. I can practically smell the wards emanating from that direction.”
Zoya’s nose wrinkled. “She’s right. Seems like they’re more concerned with stopping us from accessing our runes than they are at keeping their location a secret. Perhaps this is where they intend the ambush.”
“Undoubtedly so,” Althy agreed. “And it will take time to remove these barriers.”
“It’s not a complete warding,” I said softly. “They may not have had as much time as they wanted either. These wards will prevent the rest of you from using runes, but they’re not keeping me from using the Dark. They want me to go alone.”
“Don’t do it!” Zoya warned.
“I’ve been inside enough Faceless minds to understand a bit of how they think. This is a blatant invitation—they want to know what I know. The best course of action would be to go in and see what they want, and for the rest of you to unravel the wards while I buy us time.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Kalen said stubbornly.
“Neither will I,” Althy decided. “Zoya, focus on the barrier with the others, then join us afterward.”
“Althy, you’ll be powerless beyond this passage.”
The asha smiled grimly. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. If Tea’s right, then they’re not looking for a battle. Let’s go see what they want.”
The warded passageway led to the smallest of the chambers we’d been to, and the Faceless and King Aadil waited for us at its end with a few bodyguards. Druj was still heavily cloaked, a hood pulled down over his face, obscuring his features. King Aadil took no such steps to hide his identity. The mad king was clothed in ceremonial armor, similar to what I’d seen hanging from the scholar Garindor’s walls in his tiny Isteran cottage back in Farsun. The king also wore a gold circlet on his head in place of a crown, with wings hammered on either side.
About a dozen bodyguards flanked him, all of whom moved in unison to shield their ruler. The king drew his sword and snarled a warning as we approached. I didn’t need to look into his head to know his insanity; his eyes looked the same as Telemaine’s had all those months ago.
“As you suspected, Tea,” Althy said quietly. “They do not have the First Harvest, and the king demands that we hand it to him immediately.” She lifted her voice and returned an answer to him in Drychta. The king responded with streams of abuse and stepped forward but
stopped when the hooded figure raised its hand.
“Give up,” I said, directing my words to Druj. “You won’t find the First Harvest here.”
The figure turned its face toward me. Suddenly, I was no longer standing in a cave inside Mithra’s wall of mountains. Instead, I was some distance from a great city, watching it burn. The smoke and ash seared my senses, the smell stinging and acrid.
This is not real, I thought frantically, willing myself to calm down. This is not real!
The Faceless stood before me, but he did not attack. Instead, he inclined his covered face in the direction of the city, watching it burn.
This wasn’t Kion. The buildings were different.
It is not a city you will recognize, someone said, more whisper than voice. It was soft and hoarse, pitched low. Its name has been forgotten to all but history.
Why are you showing me this?
I have suffered loss as you have. For you, it is visions of Kion in flames. That is your nightmare as much as this was mine. And the irony is that you shall burn Kion to save it.
Who are you?
A friend, if you are willing. The figure walked into the center of that maelstrom, wordlessly bidding me to follow. I hesitated, but there was nowhere else to go, so I trailed after the cloaked figure warily, wrapping the Dark around me should my instincts prove wrong.
The man was content to walk ahead without bothering to look back and see if I followed. He stopped before the remnants of a house whose foundation had since been given up to heat and flames. It smoldered while everything around it continued to rage.
A woman lay huddled on the ground. Weeping, she clasped an unmoving infant in her arms. Her cries were the only sounds amid the crackling of fire.
We all come from broken pasts, murmured the voice from underneath the hood. The Dark attracts the grieving. The sounds of lament are a pleasure to its senses. All who embrace the Dark know loss before they are granted its blessing.
Was this Aenah? I remembered a similar vision when that Faceless had briefly lowered her defenses and gave me access to her mind. She too had clung to a dead infant before a burning city, the first and only time I felt any empathy on her behalf.
