Nydepa presided over the head of the table, arms resting on stone. He’d been carried into the room, legs dangling, and had carefully arranged them before settling into the chair and indicating that those called to the meeting should be at ease, his wrinkled face smiling. “No ceremony here, please.” His Medah was smooth, among the more accomplished of the Mazu, with only small traces of his own dialect, a soft clipping at some words.

  Schan sat near the opposite end of the table, running a whetstone over a knife in calm, measured scrapes. Wayrn sat beside him, expression dark – as had become customary for him, though now there was an edge of worry. All that remained was for Tanija to join them.

  Footsteps echoed up the stairwell and Tanija appeared. His own face was drawn and stubble grew long atop his head. Since the death of his children, he’d not been even a shadow of his usual jovial self. And why would he? Ain looked away from the man. Silaj was so close now – his own child had not even been born and he doubted he could face each day the way Tanija did.

  “Forgive me, Nydepa.”

  “No need to apologise, Tanija,” he said. “But we will begin now. Ain, Schan, please share the message you received from your Engineer for Rejam and Predi.”

  Schan started. “I noticed something in the Seer Stones. A vision from Ibranu, who was an Engineer claimed by the Wards on our first journey.” He outlined Ibranu’s role within the Cloud, but the twins seemed familiar. “He was not distinct at first, and would only request Ain before disappearing. He reappeared several times, but it was as if something interfered with his efforts to send his message.”

  “And his message?” Rejam – or so Ain thought – asked.

  “One of terror,” Ain said. “Cities being swallowed by fire, sea and ice – but he also showed us the bones that lie between Cloud Oasis and the Wards. I believe they once belonged to a Sea Beast. A long-dead creature of great power,” he added.

  Nydepa looked to the twins. “Ain feels the spirit showed him the disasters and the bones because he was implying that they are connected.”

  “At the Sea Shrine in Sekkati I called a Sea Beast to attack the city and it destroyed the walls. Perhaps it is more powerful even than that?”

  Nydepa nodded. “Who among us would claim something is not amiss? The increased darkling attacks are merely the clearest sign. I believe we must offer help in the face of such dire times.”

  “We would welcome anything you can offer, Nydepa,” Ain said.

  “It may be slight, but we will guide you from Haven if you wish to leave. There are still safe passages.”

  “So we hope,” Predi said, a slight frown on his face.

  The Mazu leader sighed. “First-Home will be safest, we have agreed.”

  “We have, but that does not mean First-Home stands, or that we will reach it.”

  Ain shifted on the hard seat as the silence grew, but Nydepa only sighed again. “I pray that your fears are unfounded.”

  “When will you leave?” Schan asked.

  “You will be aware that we have been preparing for some time now. It is my hope that we might leave on the morrow.”

  “Then we will leave with you and head for the Cloud,” Ain said, after glancing at Schan. They had already decided seeking advice from the Elders was the best course; Raila would better be able to decipher Ibranu’s message. Danger was clear, but not their course of action. Besides which, Silaj was waiting.

  Tanija spoke, his voice soft. “My people wish to join the Mazu if you will take us.”

  “Of course,” Nydepa said. “We are safer together.”

  “Thank you. The people of the caves are grateful,” he said.

  Nydepa closed his eyes. “It is no trouble.”

  Rejam and Predi exchanged a glance. One bent to the Mazu leader and the other said, “Now may be best time to rest. Please take to your rooms. Prepare for tomorrow.”

  Ain left, following Schan down the steps, Wayrn and Tanija behind. They bypassed the opening to the first and ground floor, heading deeper, before exiting into a corridor with a series of bare rooms and soft lamplight. No doors, but each room possessed a curtain of white quartz beads.

  Converted soldier’s quarters, most were occupied by Tanija’s people – he went to Ashia now, almost stumbling to her when she slipped from their room. Her eyes were lined and she took him in her arms when he drew a shuddering breath.

  Ain looked away.

  He sat on the narrow cot and set to work adding new supplies to his pack before leaning against the cold stone wall.

  “Ain?”

  Schan entered, Wayrn trailing. The room was cramped with the three of them. King Oseto’s envoy pulled the curtain closed and lowered his voice.

  “I believe I understand some of your Engineer’s warning.”

  “You do?” Ain placed a spare, empty flask aside.

  He hesitated. “I hope you understand I am sharing what I know because I believe in my king’s offer of peace.”

  Schan raised an eyebrow but said nothing and Ain nodded.

  “The bones of a Sea Beast are indeed powerful beyond our imagination and I believe Ibranu was suggesting that we will need them to combat similar force that has yet to reveal itself.”

  Schan appeared concerned. “What force?”

  “And how are the bones powerful?” Ain asked.

  Wayrn shrugged. “Perhaps whatever prevented him from delivering his message in words? Perhaps something is driving the darklings to attack us? I do not know. I fear.”

  “And the value of the Sea Beast bones?”

  “From them Greatmasks are made.”

  Ain gaped, then closed his mouth. Even Schan gave a low whistle. “Then the Medah have been within reach of such power for centuries now and not realised this?”

  Wayrn spread his hands. “Perhaps the knowledge was lost, who knows? But I doubt there is anyone in the Cloud who would understand how to carve one. I do not even know if the Lord Protector does.” He paused. “But it must be attempted.”

  “You want to leave your role then, Envoy?” Schan asked.

  “No. But when we return, I would like to take some of the bones home to help protect my city.”

  “The Elders will have to decide that, of course,” Schan said.

  “I understand.”

  “Let’s get some rest,” Ain said. Hard to believe such bones of power had been lying in plain sight, being bleached by the sun for hundreds of years. Yet for now, they were a secondary concern. “I want to be ready for tomorrow.”

  “Are you certain you can escape the darklings if they attack, Pathfinder Ain?”

  “I am. I have a new control over the paths. I will confound them if they come,” he said. He had to.

  Wayrn left and Schan followed, leaving Ain to lie back and close his eyes.

  There was no other choice.

  He had to see Silaj again, before darkness and ruin swept the lands.

  ***

  Ain rolled from the cot, dim light beyond the curtain.

  How much time had passed? His head ached but his body responded quickly, as though well-rested. Yet something had woken him – there, a pulse beneath the earth. Steady, save for an irregular spike in force. Like silent thunder.

  What was going on? Before sleeping, no such path had raged.

  “Schan?” Ain snatched up his pack and pulled the curtain back. He slipped into the warrior’s room and woke him.

  “What is wrong?” Schan asked.

  “I feel something in the paths. There’s something unnatural.”

  “More darklings?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “It is near to dawn anyway, by my guess,” he said, and rose, collecting his pack. They ducked into Wayrn’s room next and within moments were climbing back up to the ground floor to cross the quiet hall, where figures in white robes and long dark pants moved between shadows, their shoulders laden with packs.

  Or weapons.

  The path pulsed again, sharp. He winced. “Let’s find our guide,” he said, moving toward the entry and the bustle of the departing Mazu.

  Outside, dawn light fell across the street, softening the stones and the dark hair of the people who stood in queues before the rock face, right beside the entrance to the Seer Stones. Nearest the wall, men worked to roll back a huge stone, revealing a dark tunnel.

  Ain sighed. “More underground tunnels.”

  “Let’s hope they’re wide. I want a lot of room around me if we meet one of those things in there,” Schan said.

  Rejam – or Predi – again, Ain could not tell – appeared with a young man in tow. An older boy, he carried a carved piece of quartz, not unlike a peach, and wore a sword belted at his waist.

  “This is Hekib. He will take you,” the old man said, and then he was gone.

  Hekib smiled then waved an arm for them to follow. No time to say goodbye to anyone. Ain glanced over his shoulder. Good luck, Tanija. Hekib weaved through the queue without trouble. Perhaps the people of Haven had been instructed to allow Hekib precedence, because all moved aside without complaint.

  Some wished them well, most simply clutched children close, eyes watching the ridges. Their guide passed into the darkness and Ain swallowed a sigh. Before reaching the light’s limit, he paused.

  “Schan, we must have some torches?”

  Hekib turned back, shaking his head as he raised a hand. The pear of quartz lay within. He rubbed the flat side of the quartz with his palm until a warm, pink glow began to spread. Even after he stopped, the light continued to brighten and he beckoned again for them to follow, heading deeper into the shadows of the tunnel.

  The morning dragged on with only the bobbing light of the quartz and the tread of feet on stone – the weight of it all beginning to press down. Sweat dampened Ain’s temples and he forced himself to ease his breathing when it started to quicken. Sands, how much more? But just as his soles began to ache and the sharp pulse of the various paths to fade, Hekib stopped and turned into a new tunnel. This path was wider, the floor smooth and a breath of air from within grazed Ain’s cheek.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  Hekib didn’t answer but Schan did. “Seems that we’ve turned south, back toward the Cloud.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Just a guess for now.”

  More light grew, this time pouring into the tunnel in thin shafts from above, casting jagged shapes on the walls and ground. When Ain lifted his head, light blinded him. He shifted. The orange rock was lit by the bright sun where it fell through the twisted openings above, casting complex patterns.

  The near-incandescent shafts shot into the tunnel at various points along their path – but always from a height, as the tunnel’s roof stretched up and up.

  He nearly asked Hekib about it but the young man probably would not have understood the question – he did not seem to speak Medah. When the passage moved back into darkness the sun was replaced by the pink glow of quartz once more until Hekib led them finally down rough steps to a circular room open to the air.

  The Wasteland waited beyond, a line of shimmering white pillars stretching across the horizon. Ain stepped closer, pausing at the edge, a sheer drop to jagged stone below, easily far enough to shatter his bones should he slip. Giant bolts had been driven into the floor and ropes thick as his thigh wound to them, running over the edge.

  Only the ropes were grey and worn.

  There appeared to be no ladder, no stair, no path hugging the side of the ridge.

  Hekib gestured to the rope and gave them a smile. “Good luck,” he said, his words halting.

  Ain thanked him but Schan stepped forward. “This is the only way down? The only way to the Cloud Oasis?”

  Hekib nodded. “Oasis.” Then he left, his white cloak disappearing into the darkness from where they’d came.

  “I’ve seen stronger looking ropes,” Wayrn said.

  “Will they hold us?”

  Schan bent by the pair of bolts, slapping one of them. The smack rang dully off the stone walls. “Could do for one of us only, then break. Or none.” He pointed to the underside, where the edge of the stone had cut some of the way into the rope. “See? It’s been worn away over the years. Doesn’t look like it’s been used for a long time.”

  “So do we go back?” Wayrn asked.

  Ain shook his head. “Not if it means getting lost in the tunnel, and I don’t want to face the darklings beneath the quartz platform.”

  A moment of silence.

  Schan leant over the edge a little further. “The rope doesn’t reach the bottom either, though it comes close.”

  “There’s rope in the packs Nydepa gave us,” Ain said.

  Wayrn slung his to the stone floor and unhooked the clasps, raising a heavy coil of rope. “Then he meant for us to use this path.”

  Schan stood, placing a foot on one of the huge ropes. “This one is not cut through as far as the other. It might just hold.”

  “We can tie this off at the end of that one then,” Wayrn said as he pointed.

  “Right,” Schan said. “I’ll go first.”

  “Wait.” Ain bent by the rope. “Let me see.” He placed both hands on the coarse surface and closed his eyes. The path flowed down, each a steady thump of boot on stone but also the pressure of hands gripping rope. Very few paths sprayed into the air, most continued down the rope.

  And those poor souls who had fallen, whose paths fell into nothingness, were old.

  “No-one has fallen from this path in a long time. Or used it.” Ain rose, stopping halfway. The sharp pulse from before returned, striking double-time. “Wait.”

  “What?” Wayrn asked.

  The pulse continued, increasing in frequency. Coming from the tunnel. Was it darklings? He clutched his head, dropping back to one knee. “Hurry,” he cried.

  “Darklings?”

  He waved a hand at the ropes. “I don’t know – it’s the paths, they’ve never hurt me before. I think something is coming.”

  “I go first,” Schan said, and grabbed the rope, face set as he took his first step.

  Chapter 6.

  Notch blinked through the light; yellows and greens fading to reveal a deeper swathe of green and blue above. He moved forward, each step measured while his vision cleared. If he tripped and dropped Nia...

  The world resolved into detail.

  He stood on the edge of a seal, twin to the one he’d left. Here the wind tossed his hair where it swept up over a sea of trees, the dark green stretching before him. Streaks of blue sky appeared beneath grey cloud above. He stepped down onto a hilltop, its surface littered with wind-smoothed stone.

  The seal blazed on behind him, casting an uncertain shadow to the ledge of the outcrop. Only a few feet lay between seal and edge, where a drop plummeted down wooded sides to the forest floor below. It was like standing atop the palace walls and looking out over Anaskar – if the citizens and houses had been turned to trees.

  He completed a circuit of the hill as light from the seal died. A set of stone steps led around the outside of the hilltop. He adjusted Nia in his arms and started down the rough-hewn steps, all worn in the centre, soon dropping low enough that trees and plants clinging to the rock face grew up around him, blocking the sun in places. Birds chattered in a typical call and response and his hand twitched in remembrance of the leathery silver creatures.

  By the time Notch reached the forest floor he was sweating and both his leg and arms had begun to ache. He set Nia down on the softer earth and drank from a deep puddle – brackish but cold, at least. Based on his view from above, and considering the weave of the tree line, a river lay some distance away. Yet surely the mysterious boy would have led him close to the Autumn Grove, if that is where the Oyn-Dir waited? There Notch would no doubt find more water, but when would that be? The trees around were green, their blood-tipped leaves clear to see.

  A path of flagstones, set in the earth, lined the bottom of the hill. He retrieved Nia and followed the path to a large opening. It covered half the rock face, many times taller than a man. Carved on a pair of rock columns flanking the opening were the interlocking circles of the Broann’s oldest family.

  The path disappeared inside.

  Not the Autumn Grove but it was a sign of civilisation. Perhaps not recent civilisation but there might be a map, clues to the Autumn Grove, evidence of a passage leading somewhere, something, anything. It was worth a look at least.

  He approached the dark opening. While sunlight worked its way within, there was a limit and beyond the rough floor waited only shadow. He paused at a column. It was an ancient spot; the carving of circles had lost its sharp edges, wind and water having worn away at it. Even the lichen grew in thick layers around the base, climbing toward the tops, where rusted iron fittings stood empty.

  “Is it even safe for me to enter?” He directed the soft question to Nia.

  After all, if the cave was a sacred site, would an Anaskari man be welcome within? He crept to the opening and hovered on the threshold. If ancient forest magic was about to strike him down he’d never know it. But how likely was that? The seals hadn’t hurt him.

  Notch moved into the darkness.

  And only the echo of his footfalls followed. He slowed, adjusting to the cool darkness. The strains of the light soon revealed the impressions of a huge passage. He repositioned Nia and approached the light, one hand outstretched and the other straining to hold her.

  But he bumped into nothing and the floor remained level, if not smooth. When the air changed, Notch paused. He’d entered a giant cavern, the echo of his steps growing – but no other sounds returned, just his breathing. And a sense of...something. Something alive, something aware of his intrusion. He strained his ears. Was he being watched?

  Notch placed Nia beside him and braced his legs, drawing his sword. He nearly called a challenge, but the darkness hid him as much as the watcher. He hoped.

  The faint scent of dust clung to the air.

  A vast sense of age...of time’s passage grew apparent. He swallowed. Perhaps it was a mistake to have entered...

 

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