Chapter 42 Meryn #2
“And it remains uncharted because the island is shrouded in impenetrable mist,” Lucien tells us.
“Mist,” Venna repeats, skeptical.
Lucien’s eyes settle on her. “Mist. Fog. Particularly low-hanging clouds. Whatever you’d like to call it,” he says, and flashes her a smile. Then he turns back to the table at large. “People have attempted to land there numerous times over the centuries. Because?” Lucien gestures to Elias.
“Because it would be a great position for approaching Nocturna by sea,” Elias answers.
“Exactly.” Lucien nods to Elias. “Yet every expedition has ended in total disaster. Tragic disaster,” he says like he’s not very put out by said tragedies.
“What… sort of disaster?” Venna asks hesitantly.
The vision of that dead woman in the tower presses into my eyelids. Which of us was it? I blink it away.
“The sort of disaster that inspires legends of specters of sailors reaching out of the unmoving mist to drag people to their watery deaths,” Elias says, bored voice in contrast with his lurid statement.
“Legends, of course.” Lucien chuckles. “Though, the mist is strange. There could be enough wind to fully fill sails, but the fog won’t so much as stir. It simply… hangs there.”
“So. Magic?” Stark says.
“Who knows?” Lucien sighs. “Probably.”
“But someone has sailed close enough to see the islands,” Stark points out.
“Indeed. And those who’ve managed to sail close enough have reported glimpses of a massive tower through brief breaks in the mist,” Lucien replies. “Elias.”
Elias turns away from the table and pulls out another massive leather folio. He returns to the table and begins to carefully extract several yellowed sketches, each looking more delicate than the last.
The sketches are all rough drawings, looking to be done by different hands, of a tall stone tower rising from jagged rocks.
When I lean down to study the drawings closer, I can make out the detail in the tower’s peak. It looks almost like another natural rock formation, as if it’s sat there atop its island and been carved by the sea and the wind together.
Except at its very tip, there are symbols.
They’re messily scrawled and not perfectly accurate—whoever recorded them must have seen them for only a second. But even so, they’re clearly recognizable to me. To any Bonded.
I fight down a gasp and hover my hand above the most detailed sketch, tracing the four symbols with my eyes.
“What? What is it?” Elias asks.
“Oh shit,” Noemi says.
“These are the symbols of the four direwolf packs,” I tell them, then point to each in time. “Strategos, Daemos, Kryptos, and Phylax.”
Elias picks up the paper and studies it. The Bonded break into strained conversation. They’re clearly confused and worried.
“Anassa,” I reach out. “Do the wolves know anything about this tower?”
There’s a pause, and I can tell Anassa is thinking. Then, “No, it is not in our histories. But clearly it belongs to our land. Or to the Bonded.”
I tilt my head, thinking.
“What is it?” Venna asks. I share Anassa’s comment with the group.
“Maybe…” Saela traces the tower with her finger, pausing on each pack symbol. “Maybe it takes the magic of all four of your packs to break through the fog.”
I look around the group, my skin tingling with anticipation. “You’re right, Sae. It may take that. And… look at us.”
One Strategos, one Daemos, one Kryptos, one Phylax.
Noemi starts to laugh. “Well, then, Killian and Alistair are screwed. If it’s true, they won’t be able to reach it. They don’t have any Strategos or Kryptos on their side.”
Until he uses his new powers of persuasion on members of those packs.
I checked in quickly with Egith this morning. She and the remaining forces are heading to Blumenfall, and they have Ruby with them—which is beneficial for us since she’s important to Lucien.
However, there are still the retired Bonded and those not on active duty. I also connected with Aldrich, who told me that Killian’s forces are known to be en route to Sturmfrost. How long until the city, and the Bonded City, are all under his control?
“We should attempt the journey right away,” I say.
“It feels weirdly fortuitous, and we might have a limited time before Killian figures it out.” I turn to Lucien, who’s wearing his scheming expression, head tilted back, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you have a boat we can use to get there? And assuming the answer is yes, is it fast?”
Lucien just stares at me for a long moment, that scheming look continuing, and I really, really don’t like it.
Then he lifts a finger and says, “Yes, but I have one condition.”
Of course he does.
“What is it?” I ask warily.
“You will need someone to captain that boat, and I happen to be an excellent sailor. So Elias and I will personally accompany you on this expedition.”
He stares at me unblinking, and for once I can read his thoughts clearly.
Right now, we each have two of the Tears.
If I find another one in the tower, and he’s not there with me, the power balance between us will tilt in my direction. We may be at a truce, and we may have a common enemy.
But the basic fact stands that our countries have been at war for centuries.
Neither of us trusts the other.
Neither of us wants the other to be more powerful.
Stark’s hands curl into tight fists, tattoos curving around his knuckles. But I smooth my hand over his under the table. His fists don’t release, but they also don’t violently smash Lucien’s nose.
Small victories.
“And after the tower? If we discover a Tear there, what then?”
Lucien cocks his head. “Well, I think that would be all the more reason to formally solidify our alliance, don’t you?”
My blood curdles. He means marriage. This will be just another thing to use as a bargaining chip against me, to force my hand.
I swallow so I don’t spit in his face instead. We need Lucien’s resources and possibly his knowledge. And definitely we’ll need his Tears around if we go up against Killian and Alistair—not to mention his army.
So I take a deep breath, resigned. “Put your finger down. You look stupid. But fine. We’ll go together.”
After some hurried conversations about travel logistics, everyone heads out of Lucien’s rooms to start packing for our journey.
I still don’t share with the group that one final detail from my vision: the woman’s body I saw in the tower, her face obscured.
It might not have been one of us. Or perhaps I was wrong and the woman lived.
I try to convince myself, but behind my thoughts lurks a darker truth: One of our party will die in this search.