Chapter 26
“Why would the gods want our swords?” I say over a flickering fire.
We headed north through the woods, away from that main road, for a full day, until we reached where it turned into a stretch of mountains. When Raker managed to catch a wild boar, I didn’t object. I sat and watched him set the fire with his stone. Roast it.
And hand me a good portion of it.
By going back for him … it seems a rock in the wall between us has been removed. His mask still hasn’t. There are still secrets thrumming between us. I can feel them.
But there is also the start of a different type of partnership. One with a push and pull. I hand him a smattering of nuts I found a few hours ago. He takes them without a snide remark. I hear them crunching in his mouth.
“Mine’s pretty nice,” he says.
And there he goes again, proving just why I want to throttle him.
I nod. “What a relief,” I say, chewing on the meat. Swallowing. “You were starting to be a little too tolerable for my taste.”
He makes a huffing sound that isn’t quite a laugh. He finally answers my previous question. “The gods hoard power. Haven’t you noticed?”
I have. But I just thought it was being hoarded on this side. I didn’t know … I didn’t know they were keeping so much of it from the immortals too.
Now I’ve seen the truth. The villages are better off than the ones on Stormside, of course, but not by much.
The nature here is beautiful, the fruit and vegetables are plentiful, but the land is too dangerous to cross.
The roads are full of perils. What good are all these resources if most can’t access them?
The God of Travels has outlawed maps and stationed Masks at each major trail. Now it all makes sense.
The gods want to keep the immortals weak and reliant on them. They want to keep them separate, lest they form an uprising.
“The gods were supposed to protect us,” I say.
Raker snorts. “The only thing you can ever count on is your metal, Aris.”
I suppose that’s what he thinks. Is that why he hides himself behind it? Is that why he hides at all?
“Can I see yours?” The question spills out of me before I can help it.
He tilts his head at me.
“Your sword,” I clarify.
He just stares at me, and my cheeks heat. It sounds so stupid. I’ve obviously seen his blade before. I just had it pressed against my fucking throat. But I’ve never been able to actually examine its details. “I work in a forge,” I try to explain. I shake my head. “Never mind, I—”
In a flash, he stands, unsheathes his weapon, then, carefully, warily, places it flat in his hands, holding it up for me to study.
I blink too many times, shocked. A moment later, curiosity has me scrambling to my feet. I’ve admired and hated this blade in equal measure for years. I’ve only ever seen it when it’s being used or standing proud in front of him.
But up close …
It’s magnificent. Its cross guard is made up of sharp pieces of shattered metal, expertly melded together. Its blade is long and broad, sparkling and smooth, perfectly straight, with a fine edge. It’s so big, it’s a wonder he can fight so effortlessly with it. My hands drift toward its steel.
“May I?” I ask, glancing up at him, only to find him staring down at me. Just when I think he’ll refuse, he nods.
My fingers lightly brush the metal, and Raker shudders.
With anger? With disgust that I’m touching his blade?
I smooth my fingers down it, all the way to the hilt, studying the detail, taking it in, and all the while, Raker is tense and silent in front of me.
I might be overstepping, but I curl my hand around the hilt, just to see what it feels like, not even able to get my fingers all the way around, and—
Just as fast as Raker drew his sword, he sheathes it.
“Now you know what a real sword feels like,” he bites out.
I glare at him. “I have a real sword.”
“Maybe. But forging weapons and even claiming them doesn’t mean anything if you can’t use them.”
“Then I guess I should get to work,” I say through my teeth.
I don’t spare him a glance as I creep to the mouth of the cave we’ve settled in and cycle through the different positions he taught me.
I won’t beg him to train me again—but that doesn’t mean I still don’t need training.
My own knowledge is better than nothing.
Raker puts out the fire, leaving me just the moonlight. For once, I know his action isn’t out of malice. The flames are too much of a risk, knowing we’re being hunted. On horseback, they’re faster than us. They could catch up at any moment.
The storm is still raging. Rain reflects off my metal as I move my sword up and down, fighting an invisible opponent. I go through my memory of battling the split-skin immortals, repeating my motions, then changing them to be better. Envisioning myself in another duel.
I train until my muscles are sore. Only then do I creep past Raker. He’s facing the wall. But his breathing—it isn’t steady. If he’s awake, he doesn’t turn around.
Slowly, I lie down on the stone floor and stare up at hanging rock, sharpened into fangs. Each piece is just slightly glowing, with hidden crystal. Beautiful—with an edge. Just like our swords. Just like Starside.
His deep voice echoes through the cave. “Your footwork is sloppy.”
I roll my eyes. “Thank—”
“Your back foot. When you retreat, make sure it moves first.”
Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing that.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice losing some of its bite.
I go to bed turned toward the cave wall.
The thundering of a hundred hooves wakes me. The ground shakes. Rocks fall from the ceiling, stabbing into the stone floor, shattering.
They’ve found us.
How? We only had the fire lit for a few minutes. Maybe they haven’t found us at all. Maybe they’re just going into the mountains, like we are.
That theory all but dies when the horses stop.
And I hear voices.
Raker is pulling me up in an instant. “We need to go.” Still half-dazed from sleep, I stumble forward, grabbing my sword.
“Go where?” Heavy metallic steps sound just beyond the cave’s mouth. If we go out there, we’ll run right into them.
Raker isn’t going toward the mouth, though. He’s going in the opposite direction, deeper into the mountain.
It’s early morning. Only the faintest curl of light follows us as we run straight into the darkness.
The ceiling slopes down and loses its glimmer. Raker has to duck, maneuvering around mounds of sharp rocks dripping like teeth. I follow the slight shine of his armor. We run for several minutes without slowing.
The path is wide, but instead of moving forward, he suddenly takes a turn. He rushes toward a dark corner. I’m about to ask what the hell he’s doing when he says, “There’s a hole. Another level, below.”
Without warning, he’s gone. I blink—and can barely see the trace of a circle on the ground. A gap in the rock.
I stand very still.
The light from the mouth of the cave has been all but ripped away. The entrance has been wholly blocked.
Fear roots me in place. Because—because I can’t go down there. I know that.
The memory grips me.
Flames guttering into pure and utter darkness.
Screams melting into silence.
A starless night, like even the galaxy was closing its eyes, like even it didn’t want to see what had happened.
Only my sobs, because everything that I loved, everything that once burned so fiercely, all of that was burned, and it was all my fault.
I’m alone. In the dark. Screaming.
Alone forever.
A metallic step echoes from the other side of the cave. It won’t take them long to get here.
“Aris, you need to jump.” Raker.
His voice barely reaches me. How far is the drop? I blink, but I can’t see anything. Not anymore.
Just like that night.
Clutching ash. Trembling in it. Smeared with it. Gasping—
“Aris.”
“I’m scared,” I say, my voice quivering. My eyes burn as memories from that night blind me. As they echo through my mind just like those metallic steps through this cave, getting closer. Closer.
Then him again. “I know. I know, Aris,” he says, and his voice is devoid of its usual cruelty. He says my name almost like a caress.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” I gasp, and hearing it out loud … how pathetic it is …
“I know,” he repeats. “You told me.”
I did. Beneath the stars, I did, in the same breath that I told him that I could learn to love the night. But this isn’t night. It is a dark, cold place.
“You need to jump, Aris,” Raker says, his voice harder now, like he can hear them coming. “I’ll catch you.”
I shake my head. No. I can’t trust him at all.
I can’t trust anything in this place. Especially when he’s saying my name like it’s something to savor.
The Raker I know would never be this patient.
Maybe Raker left. Or maybe he’s dead, in a heap below.
Maybe this is an entirely different beast speaking to me.
I’m reaching for any excuse I can not to jump into that dark hole as I say, “How do I know you’re not a demon?
Or a creature like that man in the mists? ”
A pause. “You saw the man in the mist?”
I blink, momentarily distracted from the approaching steps. The yells as they find the remnants of our fire. “Did you?”
I think about what the Gardener said. That he had only ever met one other person with as much suffering … just now.
He couldn’t have been talking about Raker. Heartless, cold Raker.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he says, in a frustrated growl, “You snore in your sleep.”
I rear back, shock melting away some of my fear. “What?”
“When you’re not waking up half the world with your fucking nightmares, you’re keeping me up with your snoring.”
Do I?
“That doesn’t prove anything,” I say.
“Why would a demon care about your sleep habits?” he demands.
“Why do you?” I hurl back.
“Aris, just fucking jump,” he says.
Just as a boot echoes right behind me—I do.
And he catches me, just like he promised. Before dropping me right on my ass. “Fucking hell, Aris,” he snaps, before he drags me back into the shadows.