Chapter 10
There’s a place where creatures can be claimed, like swords.” We finally slow down a mile from the Tower of Knowledge, just beyond a grove. I show them the map, pointing at the Beast Tree, a mountainous oak sticking up from a forest, with a ring of wings circling its crown.
Zane unfurls his own. We compare them. His avoids the north of Starside entirely until the very end, when the path curves up northeast, to the entrance of the Land of the Gods.
He chews his lip as he considers both options. “A winged creature definitely would make things easier … and give us time to make it back to the gates.”
Easier is putting it lightly. The new map shows a smattering of ominous illustrations. Dueling Rings. Great Houses. Something called the City on Fire. Endless forests and lakes and mountain ranges sharpened into treacherous points.
We could fly over it all …
I know which path I want to choose, but I’m not alone anymore. We look at each other awkwardly, silence spilling over.
Kira sighs deeply. “Well, then. Let’s get this out of the way.
” She throws a hand up. “We don’t trust each other.
And for good reason. Just yesterday, we were rivals.
” She looks at me. “But I saved you, in the forest. And you saved me … on quite a few different occasions.” She points at Zane. “And he saved you, on the bridge.”
“No one’s saved me,” Zane says.
Kira pauses. Frowns.
“The scholars were going to poison us, and cut us open to study,” I offer.
“See! She saved you too.” She brings her hands together. “Now. Since we’re all in this wonderful circle of saving … I propose we make a pact.”
Zane raises a brow. “A pact?”
She nods, red hair spilling out of its loose braids. “We’re not enemies anymore. We’re a team with one goal: making it to the end. In service of that, we should agree on a few rules between us.”
No one says a word, and she continues.
“First, we vote on each big decision.” Like choosing a path we know works or going north to try to claim a creature.
“Second, we vow to protect each other, if doing so won’t lead to our own deaths.
” Fair enough. “And … finally.” She swallows.
“If one of us is slowing the rest down … we cut them loose. Nothing personal. The quest must come first.”
It’s a brutal truth none of us want to admit … but she’s right. It isn’t betrayal, if it’s agreed upon from the start.
Kira lifts her silver sword so its tip is pointed between us both. “Well. Do we have a pact?”
I’ve never made a pact or an oath with metal before. I’m not even really sure how it works.
And I don’t have friends. All the ones I did have, as a child, are dead. I don’t know what it’s like to trust anyone other than my family, or Stellan. Every day on Stormside is a fight for survival—and this journey is only going to be worse.
But Kira’s right. We’ve all saved each other. Maybe if we keep doing that, we could actually make it to the end of this.
And … a weak thought flits through my head. I don’t want to be alone. Not anymore. Not if I don’t have to be.
With both hands, I lift my weapon.
Zane just looks at us both, a crease between his brows. He shakes his head, sighs, then unsheathes his ax in a glorious arc, the multicolored gemstones glittering beneath the morning sun. Our metals all touch.
A current sweeps through my blade, into my bones, and I wonder if we actually did make some sort of promise beyond words.
I plan to honor the pact. Looking at them both … I hope they feel the same.
“Our first vote then,” Zane says, still sounding wary. “Path of relative safety … or the Beast Tree?”
“Beast Tree,” Kira says immediately. She looks up, staring at a crop of bright blue birds that soar overhead. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to fly.”
I’ve never had that desire. But I also don’t see how it’s possible to survive this deadly landscape on foot. “Beast Tree.”
Zane nods. “Not that it matters, but we’re all in agreement.” He outstretches a hand toward the parchment in my grip. “May I?”
My first instinct is to hold the map tighter, just like I hold everything—in fear that it will be ripped away from me, like everything I’ve ever cared about.
But we’re a team now. I slowly hand it over.
Zane gives me a reassuring smile, as if sensing my hesitance, and then pours over the illustrations. “It’ll take at least a few days to get there,” Zane says, using the miles we’ve already crossed as a reference.
Kira bites the inside of her mouth. “Where are we going to sleep? Was that creep telling the truth about night?”
All of us look at the sun, steadily moving, counting down our hours of safety outdoors.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” Zane points at the map. “Here. This road. If we can find it, it should lead right to this village.” Westwere. “There could be an inn. Food, maybe.”
Kira snorts. “And what? We’ll rely on the charity of the immortals who tried to just use us for anatomy lessons?”
“No,” I say, reaching into my pack and bringing out my coveted gold coin. The amalgamation of everything I’ve ever sold, all melded into this one small piece of metal. “We’ll use this.”
A slow smile spreads across Kira’s face. “And here I was, thinking you were just a pretty, blood-spattered face.” She looks over at Zane. “How about you, Sterling? Is that pack full of coins?”
Zane’s eyes find the ground as he leads the way toward the path. “No” is all he says.
“Why not?” Kira demands, clearly not getting—or caring—that Zane doesn’t want to talk about it.
His jaw tenses. “All the silver is kept under lock and key. I left in the middle of the night.”
Kira’s eyes widen. “Without telling anyone?”
“Just one person,” he says. Then he strides forward, outwalking this conversation.
Kira looks at me, shaking her head in disbelief. She lets out a low whistle. “Great House heir leaving for the quest, with just his weapon on his back, and a few provisions …” She purses her lips. “That’s the type of thing people write songs about.”
It’s true. Minstrels pass through villages, singing legends, charging scraps of metal to hear them. They’re the keepers of the stories that were drained from our texts.
They only came near Nightfell once, and I scavenged for weeks to save up enough to listen. I did, for hours, in pure fascination.
Until the stories turned to the heroism of the gods, and then I stood and left.
The road is easy enough to find … and empty. It’s made of ancient sparkling cobblestone, grass growing between the mismatched squares, cutting right through the forest like a blade.
“I would think more people would use this road,” Kira says, squinting into the distance. We hear nothing. No sound of an approaching wagon. No footsteps.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be on it,” I murmur, studying the stones for wear. I find almost none. All the cracks are covered by overgrowth. There are flowers sprouting right in the middle of the road, in between stones. I reach down and gently rub the soft petals through my fingers, chest tight.
They would have been run over if this road was used often. They wouldn’t have grown in the first place. I stand. “I think we should—”
A hush falls, like the forest is whispering. Then we hear the familiar sound of clanking metal. I reach back for my sword just as an immortal in gleaming armor steps onto the path.
He’s wearing a mask. It’s made of a sheet of gold, completely covering his face, etched in intricate designs I can’t make out.
With it … he almost looks faceless.
My hand stills on the hilt of my weapon.
Zane pulls out his ax.
Another figure steps from the trees. Another. All wearing masks and armor.
“Mortals,” a woman says from behind a glimmering red mask, a slice of ruby. She turns to the second man. His mask is emerald green. “They didn’t hear the screaming from the last ones, then.”
Shit.
Kira makes to run into the forest, and the green-masked man produces a bow and arrow so quickly, he blurs.
The scholars were hardly a good example of their kind. Immortals are faster. Stronger.
Kira goes still.
“What do you want?” Zane spits, still wielding his ax.
The first man tilts his head. “Payment.”
With sinking regret, I take the coin from my pack and hold it up. “Here. You can have it. We don’t want any problems.”
The woman just laughs. It’s a beautiful, melodic sound. “Our god has no use for coins, stupid girl.”
God. My body stills.
“Who is your god?” Kira demands, voice trembling.
“The god with many names,” she says. “The god of journeys and in-betweens and thieving. She controls the roads. All must pay her price.”
“And what is that?”
“A face,” she says simply.
Silence.
“What do you mean, ‘a face’?” Kira asks.
The one with the green mask opens a bag at his hip. He lifts something up. Kira tenses.
A head, held by the hair. Eyes wide in fear. Blood dripping from the neck.
I recognize that face. It’s a man from Eros, a southern town that was abandoned during the droughts.
Their villagers now wander Stormside, in search of water.
His group was so happy when he made it onto the platform.
His cobalt cape had been a patchwork of history, generations of stories stitched into it.
That cape is now probably soaked in blood.
The woman tilts her head, considering us. Her voice is bored. “Just one. You can choose. Or we’ll choose for you.”
Zane turns to look at me. For a split second, I think he might be getting ready to chop my head off with his ax and toss it at the thieves in front of us, pact be damned, but instead he mouths something.
“Your blade,” he says.
I blink. What does he want me to do? Unsheathe it? Offer it as payment?
His words barely make a sound. “Throw it. Like he did.”
Like he did. He’s talking about Raker, when he threw his sword at Waldron and somehow called it back to his hand.