Chapter 22 #2
It had been over a decade since Viri had last visited, but her surroundings were just as unnerving now as they’d been then, the sunshine struggling to trickle through the twisting canopy of trees, creating shadows that were often mistaken for wandering spirits.
Once known as the City of Tombs, the expansive burial grounds contained a variety of vaults and crypts and catacombs both above and beneath the earth, all carved out of pure white stone.
Many of the structures were so old that they were little more than crumbling monuments—some as large as houses, others mere grave markers small enough to trip over—and at the heart of them all was a towering cathedral sitting atop a grassy knoll, said to be haunted by the ghosts of the ancient mages.
Viri wasn’t afraid of ghosts, but even she couldn’t keep from shivering as they passed the rusted gates at the base of the small rise, the spired white cathedral looming over them like something straight out of a nightmare.
She could almost swear she heard screams coming from within, the cries of the ancient dead calling from beyond the sealed front doors.
Goosebumps prickled her skin, but she gritted her teeth against her unease, refusing to be spooked by what was surely a combination of creaking branches, whistling wind, and all-around creepiness of the necropolis.
“I hate it here,” Reeve murmured, visibly shuddering as he stared up at the spooky cathedral.
“My dad used to say they buried people alive in there—the White Tomb, he called it. He said anyone who dared pass through the doors never came out again.” A sad smile touched his lips.
“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to scare me away from exploring.
Probably worried I would disturb the dead and end up cursed or something. He was superstitious like that.”
Viri was surprised to hear him speak about his father, since he rarely had when they were young.
“Parents tell their kids all kinds of stories to keep them from sneaking around out here,” she said.
“Not just to respect the dead, but because we’re so close to the Mistwood.
” She indicated the trees surrounding them, which were becoming denser as they neared the far edge of the necropolis, where the Southern Obelisk’s wards ended.
“One step too far, and that’s it. There’s no coming back from blackmist exposure. ”
“Not without a magewish,” Reeve said wryly, reminding her of the Guardian legend and her supposedly revived-from-the-dead ancestor.
“I still find it hard to believe that happened,” Viri said, picking her way around a crumbling staircase that led to an underground crypt.
Reeve shrugged, the gesture strangely stiff. “We can ask him ourselves soon enough.”
The very idea was surreal, but it prompted Viri to pull the map out again as they passed the last of the white mausoleums and approached a set of rusted iron gates similar to those that had led up to the cathedral—a flimsy barrier between the necropolis and the deadly wood beyond.
“You said this map would show us the quickest route to the Guardian.” Viri paused briefly to inspect the moving line, tracing her finger along it all the way up to Nevarnost Tower.
“But this still looks like it’s going to take us days of walking.
With the head start Braedan has, there’s no way we’ll—”
“I have a theory,” Reeve interrupted before she could start spiraling about how little time they had left. “I won’t know for sure until we step into the Mistwood, though.”
“What do you mean?”
Reeve didn’t answer, just pushed open the rusted gates and gestured for her to precede him into the thick trees. There was no sign of the blackmist, but Viri knew it wouldn’t be far away once they left the protection of the wards.
“You first,” she said, eyeing her onyx ring warily and not wanting to admit just how nervous she was about having to rely on its ancient magic to keep her safe.
Sensing her misgivings, Reeve didn’t argue. “Keep close,” he said, leading the way forward. “Your talisman hasn’t been used for years—the magic might have weakened in that time.”
Viri’s heart skipped a beat. “And if it has?”
“The three hunters in the legend only had one ring between them, so I assume as long as you stay in range of mine”—Reeve tapped his silver-runed band—“then you’ll be fine.”
“How far is its range?” Viri asked, following him through the gates and deeper into the forest.
Pointedly, Reeve said, “Let’s not find out.”
Viri shuddered and moved close enough for their arms to brush as they walked, unwilling to risk any distance between them. She indicated the map folded in her hand. “All right, we’re in the Mistwood—what’s your theory?”
Reeve’s eyes were fixed on something up ahead. “We’re not quite in it yet, but we will be in a moment.”
Viri followed his gaze and inhaled sharply at the shadowy vapor appearing out of nowhere, saturating the forest like a dark cloud that floated between the trees and drifted lazily up through the canopy.
Every survival instinct within her screamed at her to run back to the safety of the wards, but she fought the urge and stayed by Reeve’s side, striding ever closer to the deadly blackmist.
When they were only feet away, Viri couldn’t stop herself from grabbing his hand, clutching tight enough to bruise. “I swear, Reeve, if you’re wrong about our talismans…” Anxiety clogged her throat, strangling the rest of her words.
He glanced sideways at her, clearly amused. “I thought we got past your trust issues when you threw yourself at me.”
Indignation flooded Viri. “I didn’t throw myself at—”
“I mean, I’m not surprised it happened,” Reeve went on. “The first thing you did when you saw me in the Underlock last week was undress me with your eyes—”
Her face heated. “I did not—”
“—and you’ve obviously been thinking about me constantly since then—”
“I most certainly have not—”
“—so it was only a matter of time before you caved to your desires.” He winked. “Not that I’m complaining. Feel free to do so again, anytime.”
Viri couldn’t believe him. “I—You—” She cut herself off when she suddenly became aware of her surroundings, realizing they’d passed into the mist without her noticing.
It hovered all around them, and yet they remained safe, protected by an invisible shield, almost as if they were walking inside a bubble.
Slowly, Viri turned back to Reeve, only to find a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re welcome,” he said simply.
Half of Viri wanted to yank the ring from his finger and shove him into the mist, while the other half wanted to hug him for distracting her from her fears long enough that they were no longer valid. She settled for doing neither and just repeated her earlier question. “Your theory about the map?”
Reeve chuckled at her clear attempt to ignore what had just happened, but he went along with it and answered, “Open it up again. If I’m right, the path will have changed drastically.”
Viri hesitated, knowing she would need both hands to follow his instructions, but unsure whether the magical barrier would hold if she let him go, especially if it was his ring that they were solely relying on for protection.
Seeing her trepidation, Reeve’s expression gentled into something Viri refused to identify, his voice soft as he said, “Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you? You’re safe with me, Little Shadow. Always.”
Viri’s legs wobbled at the promise in his words, and then wobbled even more when he carefully but purposefully untangled their fingers. Her pulse skittered with alarm, but the mist remained out of reach, the protective shield provided by their talismans continuing to keep them both safe.
“Is this where I say ‘I told you so’?” Reeve asked, his lips twitching as he flicked the ring on her finger.
She swatted his hand away. “Arrogance is unattractive.”
A knowing smirk. “Apparently not to you.”
Viri refused to rise to his bait this time, knowing it would only fuel his humor. Instead, she unfolded the map again, frowning when she saw the line through the Mistwood now led due west rather than angling north toward the tower.
She halted abruptly. “What does this mean?”
Reeve looked pleased as he inspected the path. “Ah, good. I was right.”
“About what?”
“My theory.” He tapped the line. “We know the map is meant to show us the most direct route to the Guardian, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to walk the whole way there.”
“What do you—”
“The story your parents told us,” he interrupted.
“I never understood how the husband could have hiked through the Mistwood if he was as weak as the legend claimed. Even with his wife and friend helping him, the journey would have been impossible for anyone siphoned within an inch of their life. I asked your mom about it once, wanting to know if anything had been left out of the tale, and she just smiled and said, ‘Anything is possible with magic.’ ”
Pain stabbed at Viri’s chest, since she’d heard her mom use those words more than once, always in a sneaky whisper, as if sharing a secret.
“I didn’t dwell on it at the time,” Reeve went on, “and just enjoyed the mystery of it. But after Brae and I found the map, and especially more recently, I considered what other possibilities there might be and came to one obvious conclusion.”
“Which is?” Viri pressed.
Reeve tapped the line again, right at the very end. “There’s a wayportal out here—or some equivalent of one that’ll take us directly to the tower. That’s how we’re going to beat Braedan there. He’s been stuck walking for days, while we’ll only hike a fraction of that and portal straight over.”
Viri squinted down at the map. “That’s a lot of speculation.”
“Maybe,” Reeve admitted. “But the way I see it, we have two options: We do what Brae is doing and find our own way to the Guardian”—he indicated the northwest corner of the map and the miles of woodland between them and Nevarnost Tower—“or we follow the magical path and hope I’m right about there being a wayportal at the end. ”
“I don’t like either of those options,” Viri said, before sighing and making her decision.
“If we try to find our own way, we’ll still be days behind Braedan.
We have to follow the map.” She started forward again, her eyes tracking the moving line on the parchment as she mumbled, “Let’s just pray this isn’t a fool’s errand—and that our talismans don’t run out of juice before we’re done. ”
“Talismans or not, the blackmist isn’t the only thing to fear out here,” Reeve said, peering into the thick trees. “I’d say it’s fairly low on the list, actually.”
Viri kicked a rock out of her path. “What do you mean?”
Reeve answered, “Did you ever hear that old nursery rhyme, ‘Beware the Wood’?”
The words pulled a memory from the depths of Viri’s subconscious, prompting a startled chuckle out of her. “Elders, that takes me back. I used to sing it so much that I drove my family crazy.”
She could still recall it with ease, and quietly recited the two simple verses:
Beware the wood
Beware the mist
Beware the danger
In its midst.
Beware the beasts
They lie in wait
Beware the wood…
Or meet your fate.
“That’s going to be stuck in my head all day now,” she muttered when she was done, though it was her own fault for singing it.
“Just as long as it keeps you on your toes,” Reeve said, still looking into the trees. “We’re safe from the mist”—he touched his ring—“but this wood is ancient, as old as the island itself. There’s no telling what might be lurking in the shadows.”
Viri shivered, but said, “Nothing living can survive the blackmist.”
“Nothing to our knowledge,” Reeve corrected. “But that nursery rhyme had to come from somewhere, and if they mentioned ‘beasts,’ we’d do well to heed the warning. Stay alert, Little Shadow. That’s all I’m saying.”