The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 64
Alfeo dropped something into the water with a plop.
“What was that?”
“A rock. I keep them here now. She’ll hear it and come.”
“She? What do you mean?”
He pointed to the water. “Oh good. She must have been close by.”
A shape moved beneath the surface, moving swiftly up toward them.
Bel’s face broke the surface and she smiled as she waved up at them. “Alfeo. And Lady Flir.”
Flir’s mouth hung open.
Alfeo bent down, lying on the edge of the tunnel. His head and shoulders squeezed through the gaps in the grate; something Flir wouldn’t have been able to manage, not being a child. “How are you feeling, Bel?”
“Wonderful – and there are more of us now.”
“That’s great!”
“Isn’t it? Is Mother well?”
Flir still hadn’t closed her mouth. Bel leant back and a slender blue tail with glistening scales flicked water up at them. “Lady, are you all right?”
“I guess I am. What happened?”
Bel shrugged. “That nice song made me feel better-is but it didn’t stop what was happening. Maybe it even made things go quicker. I could feel my body trying to change...so I ran away, I didn’t want anyone to see. I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t all upset.”
“We were worried.”
“Well, I’m fine now. I love it beneath the sea.”
“That’s good to know, Bel.” Flir glanced at Alfeo’s smiling face then back to Bel. “How did you get down here?”
“I’m not sure-is. I just seemed to know where to go, how to get to water.”
Alfeo nodded. “And she can swim everywhere now, even underwater. For days and days-is.”
Bel laughed. “Maybe not that long.”
Another shape grew beside her, then a man broke the surface. He narrowed his eyes as he treaded water. His long hair was plastered to his head and bare shoulders like a dark river. “Bel, this is dangerous.” He glared up at them. “Who are you?”
Bel put a hand on his shoulder. “Sanac, it’s safe. This is my brother Alfeo and Lady Flir. She saved my life.”
The man’s expression eased somewhat. “Greetings to you both.”
“Sanac is our leader,” Bel said.
“Leader?”
“Of the Sea-People,” the man said. He sighed. “I doubt you’d realise this, but ever since the Beast infected the city, people have been changing. Many hid in shame or fear at their changed appearance, and just as many died. Those that made it to the water stay here. And recently, there are those like Bel and I,” a fiery red tail broke the surface, “whose transition was made easy and even beautiful, we suspect, by the Storm Singer’s song.”
“Are there many of you?” Flir asked.
Alfeo leant closer. “Yeah, like, a whole army-is?”
Sanac chuckled. “No. Perhaps a hundred of us. Much less can swim as swiftly as Bel and I, however.” A commotion erupted on the wharf. Sanac lowered himself in the water, until only his head was showing. “We should leave.”
“All right.” Bel smiled up at them one more time. “Come and see me again soon, Alfeo. And you too, My Lady.”
Then the two slipped beneath the water.
Alfeo beamed as he stood. “See, she’s fine.”
“So she is,” Flir said, following him into the dark of the tunnel. Just how powerful were the remnants of the Sea Beast?
***
A messenger waited for her at Holindo’s staging area, where the colossal shadow of the Sea Beast had finally dwindled down to something that looked manageable. Like a regular whale or two, perhaps.
Seto wanted her and Luik at the palace. At once.
“Lord Luik has already left, My Lady.” The messenger gestured to a carriage. “Please, allow me to convey you there.”
Something was wrong. Or maybe, for a change, something had gone well. Who knew? At least Bel really did seem happy. Flir hopped into the carriage.
Pevin occupied a seat across from her, face serene. “Dilar.”
“Not now, Pevin.”
“You seem agitated.”
She shrugged. “No more than usual.”
“Can I help?”
“Not really.” She put a foot up on the seat across from her, resting it beside Pevin. “Tell me, what are you going to do during the invasion, if things don’t go well for us?”
He blinked. “Stay with you of course.”
“And if I die?”
Now he smiled. “Impossible.”
“Do you think so?”
“Mishalar will protect you.”
“And you? Will she protect you from the acor?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “And as for your hypothetical question, I would seek to avenge your passing.”
“You’d kill your countrymen?” She knew the answer but getting a rise out of him would pass some time at least.
“As would you.”
“Truly, Pevin?”
“I don’t think you understand the extent of my devotion, still.”
She glanced out the window, the dark, cold stone of homes passing. Only she did understand. A young woman back home showed Flir just how deadly such devotion could be – deadly for the poor fool who bought the lie. “I know it too well, Pevin.” She met his eyes. “And I hate it.”
“It is wondrous, My Lady, for now I –”
“Enough,” she snapped.
He fell silent. The rest of the ride passed in silence too, as the carriage bumped its way back to the palace.
She left Pevin outside, as had become customary, and banished frustration with a shake of her head. Or tried to.
Seto waited in his sitting room, pacing. Wayrn stood at the door, his face weary. She greeted him and he smiled. How long had he been under the city now? Hopefully he’d found something. Luik sat in a chair, toying with the handle of his mace. The two Medah were also present. Ain, the young one, still couldn’t keep a frown from his face whenever he looked at her. She grinned back. Good, someone who didn’t worship her.
“Excellent,” Seto said. “You are about to take a little trip.”
“Are we?”
“Most of you at least.”
“But not you?”
Seto glowered. “I will stay here and see to the defence of the city, among other things. My minders would certainly fall to pieces if I were to actually do something dangerous.”
Flir chuckled.
“I’m glad you’re amused, Flir.” He gestured to the Pathfinder. “Now. Ain has found something. Prepare for what might be a long trip.”
“Vinezi?”
Ain replied in his own tongue and Wayrn translated. “There is an ancient path...unused up until recently. It’s actually within the Tier wall.” Wayrn said. He listened a moment, then summarised. “Ain says he can feel it moving into the mountain but there seems to be no way to access it from the palace grounds.”
“Which is where you come in, my dear. If there’s no door, I want you to break into the passage. Just don’t knock the whole wall down.”
Flir laughed. “I’ll try.”
“Go on then, get to work.” He waved his arms as he stood and the group started to file out. Flir shared a look with Luik, who nodded as he left. She paused at the door.
“Seto?”
He turned from the fireplace. “Questions, Flir?”
“Yes. Why aren’t you coming with us truly?”
“A question I’ve asked myself. Tell me, Flir. What would happen if I, as King, were to die?”
“A new King would take your place.”
“Not so. The remaining houses would bicker and fight. In their childishness, instead of preparing to repel an invasion, they would doom the city.” He paused. “And this is my city now, Flir. I won’t have that.”
She spread her hands. “Of course. But that’s always true. What if you fall down a staircase tonight and break your neck? Same result.”
He laughed. “Well said.”
“I mean it, Seto. What are you worried about? Why are you letting the nobles push you around?”
Seto sighed. “Flir, you need to go and help Luik and Wayrn.”
She folded her arms. “Answer me first.”
“Very well.” His eyebrows drew together. “No-one has ever pushed me where I do not wish to go. But I am one man only. And not even a young man, we would agree. Yet how many roles do I fill? How many threads need my hand to weave them? How many lives depend upon me? Thousands and thousands and thousands. And how many hours in a single day? How far can I walk each day, how much can I carry? How many decisions need I make – like this one here and now.”
She waited.
“I need to stay here and prepare for the attack. To protect my people.”
“You have generals for that.”
He produced Chelona from his robe. “But only one person for this.”
“You’re staying back to play with a mask?”
“Gods, Flir!” he shouted. His chest heaved. “There is no ‘play’ here. This mask, if I can finally learn its use, could save every single life in the city. It is that powerful.” He shoved a chair aside, waving his hands. “Have you suddenly become so dense as to forget that?”
He was right. She studied her feet a moment. Mishalar, damn it, he was right as usual. “I’m sorry.”
Seto exhaled slowly. “Just do as I say for once, without argument. Find that bastard for me and do it quickly. I want you to return in time for the attack.”
“I swear it.”
“Oh, and leave Pevin with me. I have a task for him.”
“Gladly. What task?”
“Helping your countrymen.”
She gave him a look. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Those already living in or visiting the city. They’re being protected and I want him to help Ambassador Lallor manage them.”
“You mean spy on them and the ambassador.”
“The thought crossed my mind, though I suspect Lallor is honest. But who knows what other unsavoury types might have slipped through the net?”
“Other than Vinezi.”
He gave her a look that suggested his humour was running dry. “Indeed.”
“You trust Pevin for that?”
“As long as you tell him to help me, yes. I can read Pevin if he tries to lie.” He waved a hand. “Which I doubt he will.”
“He’s all yours then.”
Chapter 41
“Is everything well?” Wayrn asked when she arrived.
The small group stood before a section of the First Tier’s wall, close to where it met the face of the mountain. The open lawn had been dug several feet down to reveal a familiar pattern on a stone slab – that of the Mask. A variety of heavy tools had been stacked against the wall.
“Seto had some more instructions,” she said.
“Well, here’s the opening.” He untangled an arm from his cloak, caught by a gust of wind.
“Who dug the symbol free?”
“We did.”
“So the earth was undisturbed when Ain found the path?”
“Yes.” Wayrn held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say next. That if there was a door here and they used it, how did it open? Wouldn’t it have disturbed the earth in some way?”
“Right.”
“We’ve thought of that. It’s simple. Ain?”
Ain answered, pointing and spreading his hands in a variety of directions. Once his hands fell still he continued.
“What’s he saying?” Luik asked.
Wayrn waited for the Medah to finish. “He says that the path leads to each Tier and extends along more than one wall. Sometimes – no, twice only – it dips into the aqueducts below. Vinezi could have exited at any other point than here. If the man actually came this way.”
“Well, let’s open it up anyway.”
Ain spoke again, miming the turning of a key. Was there frustration in his voice? She waited for Wayrn.
“He said there was a keyhole in the wall when he went up to the Shrine.”
Luik knelt and examined the wall, Wayrn helping him. She waited. Nothing. Flir rolled her shoulders. It was going to be up to her; it usually was. She strode to the wall and hefted a hammer and a huge bolt with a wedge end. “Don’t worry about that, boys.”
They backed away.
Flir twirled the bolt, spinning it around her wrist. Wayrn whistled. She moved down the wall several feet and set the bolt between stones. She tapped it with the hammer. Stone cracked but the bolt stayed in place. She stepped back to get a good swing.
“Am I in line with the door?”
Ain answered.
“He doesn’t know,” Wayrn said.
“Oh well.” She swung. Stone cracked and she swung again, driving the bolt deeper. Next, she drew the hammer back behind her head and rained down a blow that bent the bolt and shattered stone.
“There’s a hole,” Luik said.
“Good.” She swung again, this time aiming for the stone beside the round opening left by the bolt. More shattered fragments littered the ground and she stepped in to rip out a few more blocks. The wall was several layers deep. The more she tore, the bigger the dark opening became.
Flir kicked one more stone in and stood back. “There.”
“Impressive as ever,” Wayrn said.
“Can’t say I’m impressed – I’m getting sick of tunnels and passages.”
“When you put it like that, me too,” he said.
Luik hefted a pack onto his shoulder and peeked inside. “Door would have opened inward.”
“Good to know,” Flir said.
He grunted. “Which way first then? Down into the city?”
Flir shook her head. “Into the mountain I think.”
“I agree,” Wayrn said. “They haven’t been seen in the city since the attack. They’re hiding, surely?”
“Torches?” Luik handed unlit brands to each member of the party. Within the passage and out of the wind, they lit the torches and started toward the wall. Flir led, torch high. The passage allowed room for several abreast; at least it wasn’t cramped. The stonework on the floor and the walls were a match for anything within the palace when it came to craftsmanship.
A set of stairs met them at the point where she judged the wall came up against the Celnos Mountains that flanked the city.
The steps rose up into the black.
Flir sighed as she climbed.
Two landings later and she called a halt. “I need a drink.” She uncorked her flask and drank while the others took out their own flasks. Wayrn chomped on a hard biscuit. Ain simply stood and stared after drinking his water and Luik counted torches.
“How many left?” she asked him.
“Enough.”
He scratched his neck. “Surprised no-one seems to know about this passage.”
“Vinezi must have,” Flir replied. She pointed to footprints – many, moving through the dust before them. “Someone’s been here recently.”
They continued on. Hours passed in the heavy quiet beneath the mountain and new torches were lit. Her calves ached and someone behind her breathed hard. Ain? How much longer would the stair last? Did they have to travel to the top of the mountain?
Finally the stairs opened onto a wide landing. Flir dumped her pack and crossed the dusty floor. Three openings stood at the opposite end of the room. Two were stairs. One set led down, one up and the middle opening continued on a level surface. Mishala, let the path run straight.
“Look here,” Wayrn called.
Flir joined the others. Wayrn crouched by a smooth indentation in the stone wall. Tall enough for a man to stand in, it appeared people entered by placing their back to the wall and resting both arms at their sides, with palms open.
Set deep in the points for hand and head were tube-like openings ringed by silver.
Wayrn ran his hand across them. “Flush against the stone. What are they for?”
“Here’s another,” Luik said.
This one was smaller – set for a woman perhaps. Flir shrugged. “They’re strange but I don’t think they’ll help us.”
Wayrn nodded, regret on his face as he joined her in the centre of the room.
“Where to now, Ain?” she asked.
The Medah still glared at her but replied once Wayrn translated. He listened for the answer. “Ain says up. The path down is weakest but the path leading up has been used most recently.”
“Of course.” Flir thanked the man, who shrugged, and led them higher. By the next landing, one of regular size, she stopped to eat. “It must be noon by now.”
“Ah, how far are we going to follow this path?” Wayrn asked.
“Seto only said to be back in time for the invasion,” Flir said. “Though he calls it an ‘attack’ now too.”
“That matter? You were suspicious of it yourself at first.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just expecting the worst. Ten ships might just be front runners.”
“Well, I’ve packed for a long trip,” he said.
Wayrn translated for Ain, who gave a short nod then moved off to sit against a wall, eating his rations.
Flir gestured with her thumb. “Is he angry with all of us or just me?”
“I don’t know. He seems lonely.”
“Makes sense.” Flir took another drink. A familiar feeling. Even now, years after befriending Notch, Luik and Seto, after fighting alongside dozens and dozens of mercenaries, there were still moments when the great white and blue expanse of Renovar called. The crunch of snow or the impossibly clear ice-melt streams.
“Anyone hear that?” Luik lowered his own flask.
The crackle of torches and chewing from Ain filled the room. Flir motioned for him to be quiet, which he did. Nothing.
Luik stood. “A faint echo from above.”
Flir walked to the steps and waited. “I don’t hear anything, Luik.”
“Must have imagined it,” he said, but he was frowning.
“Let’s keep going anyway. We’ll run out of torches eventually and we still have to get back down,” she said. “Keep an ear out too.”
By the next landing Flir would have been happy to never see another step again. Similar to the last stopping point, strange indentations sat in the walls but only two passages led on. And both of them blocked by serious-looking doors, both tall, one of silver and one black. Onyx perhaps. Each had familiar Masks carved in the centre – actual bone set in the door. Either mask, had it rested on the ground, would have stood taller than Flir.
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