Ruin and Rising

by Leigh Bardugo

  Zoya scowled, but we pushed on, until finally we’d outdistanced the river’s clamor. We spent the night in a hollow of damp limestone where there was nothing to hear but our teeth chattering as we shivered in our wet clothes.

  * * *

  FOR TWO DAYS, we carried on like that, moving through the tunnels, occasionally backtracking when a route proved impassable. I’d lost all sense of what direction we were heading, but when Mal announced that we were turning west, I noticed that the passages were sloping upward, leading us toward the surface.

  Mal set an unforgiving pace. To keep contact, he and the twins would whistle to each other from opposite ends of the column, making sure no one had drifted too far behind. Occasionally, he’d fall back to check on everyone.

  “I can tell what you’re up to,” I said once when he returned to the head of the line.

  “What’s that?”

  “You pop back there when someone’s lagging, start up a conversation. You ask David about the properties of phosphor or Nadia about her freckles—”

  “I have never asked Nadia about her freckles.”

  “Or something. Then gradually you start to pick up the pace so that they’re walking faster.”

  “It seems to work better than jabbing them with a stick,” he said.

  “Less fun.”

  “My jabbing arm is tired.”

  Then he was gone, pressing ahead. It was the most we’d spoken since we’d left the White Cathedral.

  No one else seemed to have trouble talking. Tamar had started trying to teach Nadia some Shu ballads. Unfortunately, her memory was terrible, but her brother’s was nearly perfect and he’d eagerly taken over. The normally taciturn Tolya could recite entire cycles of epic poetry in Ravkan and Shu—even if no one wanted to hear them.

  Though Mal had ordered that we remain in strict formation, Genya frequently escaped to the front of the column to complain to me.

  “Every poem is about a brave hero named Kregi,” she said. “Every single one. He always has a steed, and we have to hear about the steed and the three different kinds of swords he carried and the color of the scarf he wore tied to his wrist and all the poor monsters he slew and then how he was a gentle man and true. For a mercenary, Tolya is disturbingly maudlin.”

  I laughed and glanced back, though I couldn’t see much. “How is David liking it?”

  “David is oblivious. He’s been babbling about mineral compounds for the last hour.”

  “Maybe he and Tolya will just put each other to sleep,” Zoya grumbled.

  She had no business griping. Though they were all Etherealki, the only thing the Squallers and Inferni seemed to have in common was how much they loved to argue. Stigg didn’t want Harshaw near him because he couldn’t stand cats. Harshaw was constantly taking offense on Oncat’s behalf. Adrik was supposed to stay near the middle of the group, but he wanted to be close to Zoya. Zoya kept slipping away from the head of the column to try to get away from Adrik. I was starting to wish I’d cut the rope and left them all to drown in the river.

  And Harshaw didn’t just annoy me; he made me nervous. He liked to drag his flint along the cave walls, sending off little sparks, and he was constantly slipping bits of hard cheese out of his pocket to feed Oncat, then chuckling as if the tabby had said something particularly funny. One morning, we woke to find that he’d shaved the sides of his scalp so that his crimson hair ran in a single thick stripe down the center of his head.

  “What did you do?” shrieked Zoya. “You look like a deranged rooster!”

  Harshaw just shrugged. “Oncat insisted.”

  Still, the tunnels occasionally surprised us with wonders that rendered even the Etherealki speechless. We’d spend hours with nothing to look at but gray rock and mud-covered lime, then emerge into a pale blue cave so perfectly round and smooth that it was like standing inside a giant enamel egg. We stumbled into a series of little caves glittering with what might well have been real rubies. Genya dubbed it the Jewelbox, and after that, we took to naming all of them to pass the time. There was the Orchard—a cavern full of stalactites and stalagmites that had fused together into slender columns. And less than a day later, we came across the Dancehall, a long cave of pink quartz with a floor so slippery we had to crawl over it, occasionally sliding to our bellies. Then there was the eerie, partially submerged iron portcullis we called the Angelgate. It was flanked by two winged stone figures, their heads bent, their hands resting on marble broadswords. The winch worked and we passed through it without incident, but why had it been put there? And by whom?

  On the fourth day, we came upon a cavern with a perfectly still pool that gave the illusion of a night sky, its depths sparkling with tiny luminescent fish.

  Mal and I were slightly ahead of the others. He dipped his hand in, then yelped and drew back. “They bite.”

  “Serves you right,” I said. “‘Oh, look, a dark lake full of something shiny. Let me put my hand in it.’”

  “I can’t help being delicious,” he said, that familiar cocky grin flashing across his face like light over water. Then he seemed to catch himself. He shouldered his pack, and I knew he was about to move away from me.

  I wasn’t sure where the words came from: “You didn’t fail me, Mal.”

  He wiped his damp hand on his thigh. “We both know better.”

  “We’re going to be traveling together for who knows how long. Eventually, you’re going to have to talk to me.”

  “I’m talking to you right now.”

  “See? Is this so terrible?”

  “It wouldn’t be,” he said, gazing at me steadily, “if all I wanted to do was talk.”

  My cheeks heated. You don’t want this, I told myself. But I felt my edges curl like a piece of paper held too close to fire. “Mal—”

  “I need to keep you safe, Alina, to stay focused on what matters. I can’t do that if…” He let out a long breath. “You were meant for more than me, and I’ll die fighting to give it to you. But please don’t ask me to pretend it’s easy.”

  He plunged ahead into the next cave.

  I looked down at the glittering pond, the whorls of light in the water still settling after Mal’s brief touch. I could hear the others making their noisy way through the cavern.

  “Oncat scratches me all the time,” said Harshaw as he ambled up beside me.

  “Oh?” I asked hollowly.

  “Funny thing is, she likes to stay close.”

  “Are you being profound, Harshaw?”

  “Actually, I was wondering, if I ate enough of those fish, would I start to glow?”

  I shook my head. Of course one of the last living Inferni would have to be insane. I fell in step with the others and headed into the next tunnel.

  “Come on, Harshaw,” I called over my shoulder.

  Then the first explosion hit.

  CHAPTER

  5

  THE WHOLE CAVERN SHOOK. Little rivulets of pebbles clattered down on us.

  Mal was beside me in an instant. He yanked me away from the falling rock as Zoya bracketed my other side.

  “Lights out!” Mal shouted. “Packs off.”

  We shoved our packs against the walls as a kind of buttress, then doused the lanterns in case the sparks set off another explosion.

  Boom. Above us? North of us? It was hard to tell.

  Long seconds passed. Boom. This one was closer, louder. Rocks and soil rained down on our bent heads.

  “He found us,” moaned Sergei, his voice ragged with fear.

  “He couldn’t have,” Zoya protested. “Even the Apparat didn’t know where we were headed.”

  Mal shifted slightly. I heard the smatter of pebbles. “It’s a random attack,” he said.

  Genya’s voice trembled when she whispered, “That cat is bad luck.”

  Boom. Loud enough to rattle my jaw.

  “Metan yez,” said David. Marsh gas.

  I smelled it a second later, peaty and foul. If there were Inferni above u
s, a spark would follow and blow us all to bits. Someone started crying.

  “Squallers,” commanded Mal, “send it east.” How could he sound so calm?

  I felt Zoya move, then the rush of air as she and the others drove the gas away from us.

  Boom. It was hard to breathe. The space seemed too small.

  “Oh, Saints,” Sergei quavered.

  “I see flame!” Tolya shouted.

  “Send it east,” repeated Mal, voice steady. The whoosh of Squaller wind followed. Mal’s body was braced next to mine. My hand snaked out, seeking his. Our fingers twined together. I heard a small sob from my other side, and I reached for Zoya’s free hand, taking it in mine.

  BOOM. This time the whole tunnel roared with the sound of falling rock. I heard people shouting in the dark. Dust filled my lungs.

  When the noise stopped, Mal said, “No lanterns. Alina, we need light.” It was a struggle, but I found a thread of sunlight and let it blossom through the tunnel. We were all covered in dust, eyes wide and frightened. I did a quick tally: Mal, Genya, David, Zoya, Nadia, and Harshaw—Oncat tucked into his shirt.

  “Tolya?” shouted Mal.

  Nothing. Then, “We’re all right.”

  Tolya’s voice came from behind the wall of fallen rock blocking the tunnel, but it was strong and clear. I pressed my head to my knees in relief.

  “Where’s my brother?” yelled Nadia.

  “He’s here with me and Tamar,” Tolya replied.

  “Sergei and Stigg?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Saints.

  We waited for another boom, for the rest of the tunnel to come down on top of us. When nothing happened, we started scrabbling toward Tolya’s voice as he and Tamar dug from the other side. In a matter of moments, we saw their hands, then their dirty faces staring back at us. They scooted into our section of the tunnel. As soon as Adrik dropped his hands, the ceiling above where he and the twins had been standing collapsed in a billow of dust and rock. He was shaking badly.

  “You held the cave?” Zoya asked.

  Tolya nodded. “He made a bubble as soon as we heard that last boom.”

  “Huh,” Zoya said to Adrik. “I’m impressed.”

  At the elation that burst over his face, she groaned. “Never mind. I’m downgrading that to grudging approval.”

  “Sergei?” I called. “Stigg?”

  Silence, the shift of gravel.

  “Let me try something,” said Zoya. She raised her hands. I heard a crackling in my ears, and the air seemed to grow damp. “Sergei?” she said. Her voice sounded weirdly distant.

  Then I heard Sergei’s voice, weak and trembling, but clear, as if he were speaking right beside me. “Here,” he panted.

  Zoya flexed her fingers, making adjustments, and called to Sergei again.

  This time, when he replied, David said, “It sounds like it’s coming from below us.”

  “Maybe not,” Zoya replied. “The acoustics can be misleading.”

  Mal moved farther down the passage. “No, he’s right. The floor in their segment of the tunnel must have collapsed.”

  It took us nearly two hours to find them and dig them out—Tolya hefting soil, Mal calling directions, the Squallers stabilizing the sides of the tunnel with air as I maintained a dim illumination, the others forming a line to move rocks and sand.

  When we found Stigg and Sergei, they were covered in mud and nearly comatose.

  “Lowered our pulses,” Sergei mumbled groggily. “Slow respiration. Use less air.”

  Tolya and Tamar brought them back, raising their heart rates and flushing their lungs with oxygen.

  “Didn’t think you’d come,” slurred a still-bleary Stigg.

  “Why?” cried Genya, gently brushing the dirt from around his eyes.

  “He wasn’t sure that you’d care,” said Harshaw from behind me.

  There were mumbled protests and some guilty looks. I did think of Stigg and Harshaw as outsiders. And Sergei … well … Sergei had been lost for a while now. None of us had done a very good job of reaching out to them.

  When Sergei and Stigg could walk, we headed back to the more intact part of the tunnel. One by one, the Squallers released their power, as we waited to see if the ceiling would hold so they could rest. We brushed the dust and grime off one another’s faces and clothes as best we could, then passed a flask of kvas around. Stigg clung to it like a baby with a bottle.

  “Everyone okay?” Mal asked.

  “Never better,” said Genya shakily.

  David raised his hand. “I’ve been better.”

  We all started laughing.

  “What?” he said.

  “How did you even do that?” Nadia asked Zoya. “That trick with the sound?”

  “It’s just a way of creating an acoustical anomaly. We used to play with it back in school so we could eavesdrop on people in other rooms.”

  Genya snorted. “Of course you did.”

  “Could you show us how to do it?” asked Adrik.

  “If I’m ever bored enough.”

  “Squallers,” Mal said, “are you ready to move again?”

  They all nodded. Their faces had the gleam that came with using Grisha power, but I knew they must already be approaching their limits. They’d been keeping tons of rock off us for half a mile, and they’d need more than a few minutes of rest to restore themselves.

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Mal said.

  I lit the way, still wary of what surprises might be waiting for us. We moved cautiously, Squallers on alert, twisting through tunnels and passages until I had no sense of which way we’d gone. We were well off the map that David and Mal had created.

  Every sound seemed magnified. Every fall of pebbles made us pause, frozen, waiting for the worst. I tried to think of anything but the weight of the soil above us. If the earth came down and the Squallers’ power failed, we would be crushed and no one would ever know, wildflowers pressed between the pages of a book and forgotten.

  Eventually, I became aware that my legs were working harder and realized the grade of the floor had turned steep. I heard relieved sighs, a few quiet cheers, and less than an hour later, we found ourselves crowded into some kind of basement room, looking up at the bottom of a trapdoor.

  The ground was wet here, pocked by little puddles—signs that we must be close to the river cities. By the light from my palms, I could see that the stone walls were cracked, but whether the damage was old or the result of the recent explosions, I couldn’t tell.

  “How did you do it?” I asked Mal.

  He shrugged. “Same as always. There’s game on the surface. I just treated it like a hunt.”

  Tolya pulled David’s old watch from the pocket of his coat. I wasn’t sure when he’d acquired it. “If this thing is keeping time right, we’re well past sunset.”

  “You have to wind it every day,” said David.

  “I know that.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s keeping time right.”

  I wondered if I should remind David that Tolya’s fist was roughly the circumference of his head.

  Zoya sniffed. “With our luck, someone will be setting up for midnight mass.”

  Many of the entrances and exits to the tunnels were found in holy places—but not all of them. We might emerge in the apse of a church or the courtyard of a monastery or we might poke our heads out of the floor of a brothel. And good day to you, sir. I pushed down a crazed giggle. Exhaustion and fear were making me giddy.

  What if someone was waiting for us up there? What if the Apparat had switched sides yet again and set the Darkling on our trail? I wasn’t thinking straight. Mal believed the explosions had been a random attack on the tunnels, and that was the only thing that made sense. The Apparat couldn’t know where we’d be or when. And even if the Darkling had somehow found out that we were headed for Ryevost, why bother using bombs to drive us to the surface?
He could just wait for us to turn up there.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “I feel like I’m suffocating.”

  Mal signaled for Tolya and Tamar to flank me.

  “Be ready,” he said to them. “Any sign of trouble, you get her out of here. Take the tunnels due west as far as you can.”

  It was only after he’d started climbing the ladder that I realized we’d all hung back, waiting for him to go first. Tolya and Tamar were both more experienced fighters, and Mal was the only otkazat’sya among us. So why was he the one taking the brunt of the risk? I wanted to call him back, tell him to be careful, but it would just sound absurd. “Careful” wasn’t something we did anymore.

  At the top of the ladder, he gestured down at me, and I released the light, pitching us into darkness. I heard a thump, the sound of hinges straining, then a soft grunt and a creak as the trapdoor opened. No light flooded down, no shouts, no gunfire.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I followed the sounds of Mal levering himself up, his footfalls above us. Finally, I heard the scrape of a match, and light bloomed through the trapdoor. Mal whistled twice—the all clear.

  One by one, we ascended the ladder. When I stuck my head through the trapdoor, a chill slid over my spine. The room was hexagonal, its walls carved from what looked like blue lapis, each studded with wooden panels painted with a different Saint, their golden halos glinting in the lamplight. The corners were thick with milky cobwebs. Mal’s lantern rested on a stone sarcophagus. We were in a crypt.

  “Perfect,” said Zoya. “From a tunnel to a tomb. What’s next, an outing to a slaughterhouse?”

  “Mezle,” David said, pointing to one of the names carved into the wall. “They were an old Grisha family. There was even one of them at the Little Palace before—”

  “Before everyone died?” put in Genya helpfully.

  “Ziva Mezle,” Nadia said quietly. “She was a Squaller.”

  “Can we host this salon somewhere else?” Zoya asked. “I want to get out of here.”

  I rubbed my arms. She had a point.

  The door looked like heavy iron. Tolya and Mal braced their shoulders against it as we arrayed ourselves behind them, hands raised, Inferni with their flints ready. I took my position in back, prepared to wield the Cut, if necessary.