Despite the possibility that the little being could be Eni, Ara couldn’t bring herself to speak the god’s name out loud. She knew that if it was the god, Eni would acknowledge her when directly addressed. They were too polite not to.
But she didn’t want to take the chance that her visitor was not a deity, but simply a curious butterfly. She needed to believe that a greater being followed her steps. Even if she faltered, the knowledge that someone was there, watching over her, brought much-needed reassurance. Especially now that Eamon was gone.
Ara had been trying not to think about it, but now that she was alone with nothing and no one to distract her thoughts, doubts that threatened to become panic slipped through the cracks in her courage.
Where do we go from here? How will we find our way?
The quest to become Loresmith, to face trials set by the gods, had always been daunting. Now the Vokkans would know what she was attempting and would doubtless do everything in their power to stop her. Ara didn’t want to despair, but neither could she imagine how she could outrun or outwit Vokk’s wizards and the empire’s soldiers. She had faith in her companions, but they were only four young people.
Before Lahvja had joined their party, Eamon had been their link to the realm of myth and the lives of the gods. Ara still tied his breadth and depth of knowledge to the purpose of their journey . . . and of her fate. As a summoner, Lahvja was an intercessor between the gods and the human world, but she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—teach them in the ways that Eamon had. She hadn’t devoted her life to the study of the Loresmith and Loreknights. He’d been gone less than a day, and Ara already missed his chatter and the random bits of erudition that peppered his conversations. But those small quirks she’d come to enjoy were nothing compared to the shattering reality that Eamon had known what she had to do and why. Without him, Ara felt like she’d lost the rope that would guide her through the blizzard of this quest. She had to lead the others, but Eamon had been the driving force behind their journey, his reasoning the map they’d followed.
That blow was terrible enough in itself, but the burden of his betrayal ran much deeper.
Ara and her friends had yet to talk about Eamon’s departure in anything but practical terms. Shock was the main reason behind that fact, but if left long enough it could become a silence that hardened around them like clay in a kiln, sealing their emotions in a place they would sour and fester.
She couldn’t shake memories of Eamon. His earnestness and sweet demeanor. Ara had believed Eamon, of all her companions, was the most committed to completing the Loresmith trials. She needed to put together the puzzle of his betrayal, to find some kind of reason behind it. The idea of condemning him without question, without any hope that, however twisted, his intentions might have been good, felt wrong.
But there was so much danger in what he’d done. Yes, he’d left them a scroll, which indicated he still wanted them to succeed. Yet, what if this seemingly helpful decision was another layer of subterfuge, put in place to lead them into some sort of Vokkan trap?
Nothing was certain. She had so many questions and conflicting emotions. She knew they all did.
Ara lifted up on her forearms and blew out a sigh. The rush of air sent the butterfly sailing off her knee. It fluttered frantically, beating its wings harder as if scolding her for creating the sudden windstorm.
“I’m sorry, friend,” Ara said.
The butterfly circled her head one more time, then flew away for good.
She returned to the loft not knowing if she’d spoken to an insect or a god.
* * *
Teth returned with good news—he’d made contact with the Below’s agents in Marik, and a message was on its way to Lucket. He also brought an abundance of provisions, including a freshly cleaned and trussed duck and a basketful of fruits Ara didn’t recognize. The fruit gleamed like jewels—rubies, amethysts, citrines; they were round, oval, star-shaped, corkscrews. Some had smooth skin, others were rough, and a few even had spikes. Ara examined each one, marveling at their strangeness, wanting to taste them all.
As if he’d read her mind, Teth said, “If you eat them all, you’ll have a very unhappy stomach.”
“I know,” Ara replied, but silently decided eating a small piece of each fruit would be all right.
Lahvja had taken a break from her studies to forage for greens and herbs. She came back to camp with her own basket and ordered Teth to clean out a partially tumbled-down chimney so she could use it as an oven. While he went to work, Lahvja rubbed the duck with oil and stuffed it with herbs and sliced bits of red and purple fruit.
After banking the fire in the chimney, Lahvja laid the duck on a stone slab to roast. She joined Teth and Ara at the small campfire Teth had built outside the loft and settled in to clean the greens that would accompany the duck.
Nimhea leaned against the doorframe of the stables, watching them.
“Come sit, Nimhea,” Ara called to her. “It’s time for us to talk.”
The princess came without hesitation, assuming that their conversation would be about something Lahvja had found in Ofrit’s scroll. And they would talk about that—at first.
When Nimhea was sitting next to Teth, Ara gestured for Lahvja to begin.
“I have good news and bad news,” the summoner told them.
“Always start with the bad,” Teth said. “It’s a rule to live by.”
Lahvja nodded. “The scroll is mostly gibberish.”
Ara’s stomach dropped. “Are you sure?”
She didn’t want to insult Lahvja by suggesting Eamon could have understood the text when the summoner couldn’t, but that was Ara’s first thought. The second was that perhaps Eamon left the scroll because it was worthless to them.
“I’ve read it every which way,” Lahvja said. “The scroll isn’t written in an obscure language; the words are common tongue. Reading it isn’t the problem. The content, however, is sheer madness. I’ve only found ramblings of a demented mind, even with the most generous of readings.”
Ara considered that, chasing the spark of an idea. “It follows, though, in a way.”
“How so?”
“In Ofrit’s Cavern, Ofrit said to Eni, ‘And they call me the mad one.’ Isn’t Ofrit reputed to have a tendency toward madness?”
“Yes,” Lahvja answered. “But I don’t know how that helps us determine where to go.”
“What’s the good news?” Teth asked.
“I’m not sure that it’s good,” Lahvja said. “But it’s the only thing I’ve found.”
Ara leaned forward. “What did you find?”
“Words and phrases that are repeated in the scroll,” Lahvja said. “They don’t make sense, but they appear often enough that I noticed.”
She pulled a scrap of paper from her dress pocket.
“Keep in mind these aren’t consecutive; they’re scattered within the gibberish.” She began to read from the paper. “ ‘Seek the spiral. The spiral leads to darkness. Mad in the dark. Spiraling, spiraling. Down into the dark madness. The mad spiral goes down. Deep in the dark.’ ”
When she stopped reading, they sat in silence.
After giving a brief shake of his head, Teth muttered, “That’s the good news?”
“I’m afraid so.”
They went quiet again. Though she was frustrated, Ara let the words roll through her mind. She turned them over, examining them, searching for the key to their meaning.
Nimhea spoke up. “Ara, didn’t Eni mention seeking something when we were in Ofrit’s Cavern? I can’t remember exactly what.”
The question resonated with Ara. “That’s . . . yes.”
She closed her eyes, calling up the memory.
Ara, Nimhea, and Eamon had stood before Ofrit and Eni, who along with Ofrit’s scrolls offered obtuse directions about the future of the Loresmith
’s quest.
“Eni said something like ‘Seek out places,’ and something else about mysteries in the dark.”
“Okay,” Teth said. “Dark places. That might be relevant.” He cleared his throat. “Lahvja, I’m not trying to pry into your spiritual secrets . . .”
Lahvja drew herself up as if daring Teth to continue.
He dared. “You’ve known a lot about the gods and this quest up until now. You even knew Eamon might leave. Don’t you have any sense of where we’re supposed to go next?”
“No.” Her shoulders slumped. “I believe the gods offered me their secrets as a means to join you and assist you, but now they’ve hidden themselves from me. I’m as lost as you are.”
“You’re not holding out on us?” Teth asked carefully.
Lahvja’s violet eyes flashed. “Ask me that again.”
“No.” Teth scooted back from the fire, putting more distance between himself and the summoner. “I don’t think I will.”
“You know I don’t need to physically reach you to have you in my grasp,” she said in a deadly quiet voice.
“That’s just mean.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, then turned her gaze to Ara. “Did the gods say anything else?”
Ara kicked herself for not paying closer attention. Who doesn’t give their full attention to gods? But the encounter with Ofrit and Eni felt like a dream. Her memory was gauzy and kept slipping out of her grasp.
“Hidden places,” she blurted. “Ofrit mentioned hidden places where the gods’ weaknesses dwell.”
“Interesting.” Teth scratched his chin. “Didn’t know gods could have weaknesses.”
“Hidden places. Spirals in the dark,” Lahvja murmured. “The gods’ weaknesses. I admit I did not expect any god to admit flaws.”
Teth frowned. “We really haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“We’re looking for a dark spiral that’s hidden,” Ara mused. “Ofrit gave us the scrolls—”
“Too bad Eamon took the translated page,” Teth said.
Nimhea stiffened, and Teth winced.
“I’m sorry, Nimhea,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”
“Just drop it,” Nimhea replied.
Ara frowned, wanting to press this subject, but she didn’t want to lose the thread she was pulling at about Ofrit.
“Because the scrolls came from Ofrit, from his apothecary,” she said slowly. “It must be his weakness we’re facing.”
“That follows,” Nimhea said.
Lahvja nodded.
“Works for me,” Teth said. “But what does it mean?”
“We sought Ofrit at his holy site,” Ara said. “The hidden places must also be holy.”
“Ofrit has another sacred place,” Lahvja murmured.
“Not just Ofrit.” Ara met her gaze. “All the gods do. And we have to find them.”
Teth’s brow furrowed. “How’s that?”
“In order to become Loresmith, I must prove my worth to the gods,” Ara told him. “They set trials that I have to overcome. I completed Ofrit’s trial, and afterward Eni brought me to the Loresmith Forge. I think if I succeed in another trial I can visit the Loresmith Forge again.”
Nimhea’s eyes widened. “And smith another weapon for a Loreknight . . . the second Loreknight.”
Ara nodded. “That’s what I hope.”
Hope flared in Nimhea’s gaze. “The Resistance can build an army to challenge the Vokkans, but we’ll never match them in numbers . . .”
“But if the stories of the Loreknights are true,” Ara continued for the princess, “the difference in numbers won’t matter.”
Clearing his throat, Teth said, “I hate to stomp on dreams of glory, but I’m a Loreknight, and I don’t think endless arrows will keep an army from stampeding me while I shoot.”
“First of all, you won’t be alone,” Ara replied. “Second, in the tales, it was never individual Loreknights who triumphed over enemies. They fought together; united, they were a force beyond imagining.”
“And I like a good story as much as anyone.” Teth sounded apologetic. “But there were Loreknights in King Dentroth’s court. They didn’t stop the Vokkan conquest. From what I’ve been told, they were an embarrassment on the battlefield.”
“Those were not true Loreknights,” Lahvja interjected gently. “They were stooges of the king. Pretty courtiers chosen for political and personal reasons. The true method of selecting Loreknights, those who were champions of the gods, was abandoned long ago. When the kings and queens of Saetlund turned away from the gods to pursue their own gains, the power of the Loreknights was lost.”
Teth suddenly grinned. “So I am the first real Loreknight in . . . centuries?”
After eyeing him warily, Lahvja said, “Yes.”
“Well, isn’t that a fine thing.” Teth leaned back, resting on his elbows. “You’re welcome.”
Ara snorted and rolled her eyes. “There’s another reason for finding the next trial quickly: we need another Loreknight to knock the gloat off Teth’s face.”
Teth waggled his eyebrows at her. “You know you can’t resist my gloat.”
Ara replied by throwing an orange at him.
“We should go to Vijeri,” Nimhea broke in, throwing an annoyed glance at Teth. “Ofrit was first worshipped by Daefritians and Vijerians. His cavern is in Daefrit. My guess is the hidden place is in Vijeri.” More softly, she added, “I only know that because of Eamon.”
Whatever mirth had sparked among them faded at the mention of their lost companion.
Lahvja reached a hand toward the princess, but let it drop when Nimhea glared at her.
“We should take a ship,” Teth said quickly, his eyes darting from Nimhea to Lahvja. “There’s only one road to Jyn, and it’s clogged with traders and patrols, but the empire has gotten lax about inspecting the harbor. Captains spread bribes around, and the city guards are happy to take them.”
Lahvja grimaced. “The horses won’t take well to a sea voyage.”
“I know,” Teth replied. “But it’s a short trip, and if the weather holds, it shouldn’t be too stressful for them.”
Her mouth turned down with disapproval, but she stayed quiet.
“We’ll go tonight,” Teth told them. “I’ll take you to the docks. I know the watering holes merchant captains frequent. I can buy us passage and a night aboard the ship. If we stay belowdecks until we’re out of port, no one will know we’re aboard.”
Ara smiled. “I like this plan.”
“That means the world to me,” Teth said solemnly, then broke into a grin.
She punched his arm, laughing. He caught her eyes with his. Her heart fluttered, but she quickly looked away, afraid to indulge in a personal moment amid this crisis.
“Since that’s settled,” Ara said, “we should talk about Eamon. Not about the practicalities of his leaving us, but about the risks we now face and the loss we all feel.”
She might as well have grown a horn in the middle of her forehead for the sudden silence and looks she got.
“I’ll just say,” she pressed on, “I miss Eamon. I’m afraid for him and of what he’s done and could still do, and I’m worried about us without him.”
Nimhea stood up. “Stop.”
“Nimhea,” Ara said, standing up to face the princess. “We have to talk about this. Eamon was our friend, your brother; ignoring what happened is ridiculous.”
Nimhea’s jaw clenched. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Tears glossed over her eyes, threatening to spill onto her cheeks.
Lahvja scrambled up and started toward Nimhea.
Nimhea thrust her hand out. “Stop!”
“Let me—” Lahvja took another step, her own voice on the verge of breaking.
“Don’t you dare!” Nimhea spoke in a
harsh whisper. “Don’t you dare.”
Devastated, Lahvja swiped a tear from her cheek and left to check on the roasting duck.
Ara tried once more. “Would it be easier to talk about Eamon without Lahvja here?”
“Can we just leave it?” Nimhea sounded exhausted.
Ara nodded, but added, “For now.”
“Fine,” the princess snapped. “And tonight you’re going to dye my hair.”
4
Ara strode the deck of the Mermaid’s Lament on sea legs she’d never known she had. Anticipating her first time sailing, she’d worried every pitch and roll of the ship would turn her green and send her racing for the rails. Instead, her heart soared when the wind tore through her hair and salt spray crashed onto the deck. She’d never felt more alive.
The Mermaid’s Lament’s captain and crew were Vijerian, giving Lahvja and Teth the chance to pick up gossip from the sailors and dig around for any clues to the location of Ofrit’s hidden place. The second night at sea, they shared their reports with Ara and Nimhea while the four of them rested in hammocks that swung with the movement of the ship.
Lahvja rolled onto her side. “I had to ask several people before I got an answer—most swore and walked away—but a few mentioned a place known as the Tangle.”
“That’s the same name I got,” Teth added. “Though no one wanted to say anything more about it. The name alone made them curse or say a swift prayer to the gods.”
“That’s comforting,” Nimhea muttered. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
“They have good reason to fear such a place,” he replied. “Who knows what Ofrit’s put there? Besides, the empire forbids worship of Saetlund’s gods. Anyone who admits knowledge of this Tangle could be dragged off by Vokkan imperial agents.”
“Did you have any luck regarding its location?” Ara asked.
Lahvja shrugged. “The depths of the jungle. That answer was consistent.”
“You must have a more trustworthy face.” Teth chuckled. “No one would tell me where it is.”
“The depths of the jungle.” Nimhea half growled. “Not exactly helpful when Vijeri is all jungle.”
Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 4
