Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning arrived, misty and warm.
We made a fire and had a hot meal before we packed up.
Raventar forged the path this time, and his lava-glass blade cut back the growth enough for me to move unhindered.
I worried about him using so much energy on this, but we weren't far from the volcano, and it took less than half an hour to break through the jungle.
Coming out of the humid plant-embrace was a relief, but it was short-lived.
Mist clung to the black expanse of lava rock before us, softening the razor-sharp edges of the glossy stone.
This would be the most difficult crossing yet.
Not just because of the vicious rock, but also because there was little cover to be had.
If Nahel saw us, we'd be easy targets. And a field of lava rock did not make the best fighting terrain.
You had to keep to established paths, where the rock had been crushed.
The smooth, untouched surfaces sometimes hid air pockets or were simply fragile and gave way to sharp threads.
One slip or a misplaced step, and you could end up shredded.
“Foxren,” the Dragon King called, his stare on the black border between us and the volcano.
“Sire?” The Dragon knight appeared beside his king in a second.
“Scout ahead. Find us the best path and locate the entrance.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Sir Foxren pulled on a pair of black gloves, donned a black cloak, and pulled the hood over his head.
He stepped into the mist and vanished. I knew where he was, and still, I couldn't see him.
“Do you have a cloak for me?” I asked my mate.
Raven shook his head. “But I have a bottle of coal dust. We'll coat your wings, and they should be enough to conceal you.” He went to a patch of grass and motioned for me to join him.
As I sat down, the other knights found perches as well. The King sat beside me and took my hand. We all stared forward, watching as the sun rose to burn away the ground mist. Even when the mist was gone, I couldn't see Sir Foxren.
The sun and my mate's solid presence lulled me back to sleep. I woke up in Raven's arms, his hand on my face.
“There you are,” Raven murmured. “It's time to go, Mate. We have our path.”
Blinking and squinting against the sun, I sat up. Sir Foxren was back, talking with the other knights. The Dragon King stood and helped me to my feet.
Steadying me, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I just need to wake up.” I yawned as I watched the knights get into their cloaks and gloves. “Oh, the coal?”
The King pulled a bottle out of his pack. “Turn around.”
I turned, and he sprinkled coal dust over my white wings. I frowned as they quickly turned dark gray. It would be trouble to get them clean again, but it would be worth it if I made it across the lava rock without being spotted. I'd hate to be the reason Nahel noticed us.
With my wings as dark as they could get, Raven handed me a pair of black leather gloves. “Stay close to me and as low as you can.”
I nodded.
The Dragon King waved Sir Foxren ahead.
The knight pulled his hood up and stepped onto the lava rock.
Two knights went after him, and then the King and I.
The rest of the knights closed in behind us in a jagged line that slowly became a semi-circle.
Up close, I saw why Foxren had vanished.
He crouched low until his cloak became one with the landscape, even going to his hands when needed.
I followed his lead, bending over so that my wings formed a turtle shell above me.
Black, lightweight stone crunched beneath my boots.
Picking my way carefully, I avoided the larger pieces.
There were a few types of lava formations, and I got to know them well on my journey across that field.
There was the smooth stones that shone like glass.
You could see the flow of magma frozen within these rocks as threads.
Then there were the airy rocks, full of pockets like bubbles.
Lastly, were the most solid of the rocks, compacted into chunks.
All were lightweight and had sharp edges.
I glanced at Raven and his lava-glass sword.
It wasn't made of any of these stones. The swords Tabaa was known for were forged from magma.
Magic guided the liquid rock into molds and then infused it with strength.
Without the magic, the swords would have shattered upon the first strike.
A lot like me. I was stronger now because of the Dragon King's magic.
Not just his magic. He made me stronger.
Raven met my gaze. “Almost there. Are you all right?”
I nodded. The truth was—I had cut myself numerous times on the rocks, the stones slicing through my pants to nick my shins.
Blood slid down my legs, but I wouldn't complain.
He'd only stop to attend me, and that would be a disaster.
We had to keep moving. So, I let him think I was unscathed. And I felt damn proud of myself for it.
Grinning, I climbed over the vicious stones.
Such a small thing really—conquering rocks.
But it wasn't just the cuts. They mended within minutes thanks to my newly improved healing.
It was conquering my fear of Nahel and Bara's magic that made my chest inflate.
I was crawling across razor rocks to confront evil, and I wasn't whining about it.
I was a warrior, painted in coal, and hunting a villain.
No longer was I the simpering, teary-eyed captive, making help-me eyes at guests. I was the freer of captives now.
Did it matter that I had only reached this level because of the Dragon King? No, it was still my achievement. He said I made him a better man too. So, it was a symbiotic relationship. Together, we were more than we were apart.
“Over here,” Sir Foxren whispered.
We'd made it over the lava field. Thank the Gods.
Straightening, I held back my groan. Wings and back stretching, I peered up at Mount Henochtuclan.
I could see the magma's path down the side of the volcano.
The hardened river shone in the sunlight, slithering like a giant snake to the lava field. How appropriate for Nahel's fortress.
Sir Foxren led us around a large, jagged rock formation and into a shadow that blended with the mountain.
Within the darkness was a steel door hanging open.
Lanterns came forth, pulled from leather satchels.
In the light, claw marks became visible near the handle, the steel peeled back like a banana.
“Maybe it would be better to go in the dark?” I suggested. “Your eyesight is good enough to see, right?”
“Yes, but who knows what kind of traps Nahel has left in there? The light will make them easier to spot.” Raven waved Sir Neriver in ahead of us.
The Dragon knight took a lantern and slipped past the door.
More knights followed, Raven and I were next, and then the rest, just as we had crossed the field.
We entered a broad tunnel that roughly reflected the light back to us.
I looked from the floor up to the ceiling.
It was all black, going from striated rock below to bubbling walls and then a pitted ceiling that looked as if it were dripping.
“This is a lava tube,” I whispered.
“Yes, I suppose it's best to make use of the natural architecture when you build beneath a volcano.” Raven held his lantern up to shine the light over the ceiling. “Neriver?”
“Nothing so far, Sire,” the Dragon knight said and then crept forward. A few minutes later, he called back, “Halt!”
“What did you find?” the King demanded.
“A false floor. Pass on the right.”
We edged around a trap in the floor and kept going. But that was just the start. The tunnel was full of vicious traps. They got worse the further we went, ending with a magical doozie that would have collapsed the entire tube if Sir Neriver hadn't found and incinerated it.
“This can't be his only entrance,” I said once we passed it.
The King nodded. “He wouldn't have laid that trap if it were. It would slow him down.” He grabbed Sir Vanoak's arm. “When we get inside, search for another exit and guard it. I don't want any of them getting away.”
“Yes, Sire.” Vanoak moved to the head of the group with Neriver, who stood before yet another steel door.
Neriver didn't claw it open. Instead, he crouched and pulled some slender steel tools from his pocket. With Vanoak shining a lantern's light over the door, Neriver picked the lock. With a click, he achieved success and stood. The knights paused to look back at the Dragon King.
“Go carefully,” the King whispered.
Neriver turned the handle. Another click came. Everyone froze. When nothing happened, Neriver eased the door open. Golden light entered the tube along with a strange odor. My nose wrinkled at the acidity.
Neriver crept past the door. The rest of us waited. A few seconds later, he returned and stood in the light of the lanterns, his expression blank.
“What is it?” Raven asked.
“There are victims here, Your Majesty.” Neriver glanced over his shoulder. “Prepare yourself.”
“Can we save them?” I asked.
Neriver grimaced. “They're already gone.” He turned and went back into the room.
Raven set his hand on my shoulder.
“I'll be fine.” I removed it and jerked my chin forward, motioning for him to go ahead.
The knights went first, a few making soft sounds that warned me more than Neriver's words. Still, I gaped when I entered the long, narrow room.
Neriver had said they were already gone. I had expected a pile of bodies waiting for disposal. That was not what I found.
Corpses hung suspended from chains. There was a lack of wings that told me none were Okon or Lelurra, and a few had the size of the Ricarri, but other than that, it was impossible to tell what race they were.
They were wrapped in silk strips, completely covered, but bound so tightly that their shapes were evident.
Sir Foxren leaned close to one and sniffed. “Some kind of preservative, I think.”
“Why preserve corpses?” Raven looked down the line of hanging bodies. “They resemble cocoons.”
I shuddered at the reminder of Bara's moths. Then I peered closer. With their legs together and arms down at their sides, they did indeed resemble cocoons. Was that on purpose?
There were at least twenty of the wrapped corpses hanging along one wall.
Opposite them were long tables holding tools, steel bowls, knives, and rolls of white silk.
I walked along past the tables, noting jars full of unknown substances, pincushions prickly with needles, and then a familiar notebook.
“Your Majesty!” I scooped up the book and handed it to him.
Raven flipped the book open and growled, “Bara's. Damn me for not destroying this sooner.” He held it up.
“Wait!” I grabbed his wrist. “Is it only Bara's writing inside?”
Frowning, Raven handed me the book. “I wouldn't know.”
I opened it and skimmed through. “This is Bara's handwriting.” I tapped a page. “But this isn't.” I handed the book back to the King, open. “These must be Nahel's notes. We might need them to undo his experiments.”
The King grimaced from the book to the bodies. “I'm not sure we can undo anything, Mate.”
“Not with these poor people, but maybe his warriors.”
“It may not be possible, Eliel.”
“Shouldn't we at least try?”
“Very well.” Raven slipped the book into his jacket. He looked up, over my head, and nodded.
I turned to see Sir Vanoak slip through the doorway at the end of the room. The rest of us followed more slowly, careful to walk silently.
We entered a corridor. Up ahead, Vanoak exited through another doorway, but he'd left a line of doors unopened.
Neriver held up his lantern to shine on the closest door.
It was steel just like the others, but this one had a square opening in the top, about a foot square.
As the light shone through it, a whimper came from the other side of the door.
I looked at Raven.
The King cursed, went to the door, and angled his lantern so he could peer inside. Grimacing, he stepped away.
“Are there captives?” I asked.
He nodded. “We can't free them now. First, we need to find Nahel and apprehend him. Then we can free the captives.”
I didn't like leaving them, but I understood. “All right.”
We left the cells behind and entered the next room.
“Oh, dear Gods,” I whispered. It was one thing after another in this fortress of evil.
I had only been in Bara's laboratory once, when Raven took me back to the manor at my request. By then, it had been mostly cleaned—the moths and remains removed. But I'd seen enough to recognize the set-up.
Glass cases lined the walls, sitting on steel shelves.
Within some were white emperor moths, in others were cocoons attached to bare branches, and in the remaining cases were moth larvae squirming over large bones cut in half to reveal the marrow.
That was what the larvae fed on—bone marrow. And that was where the magic lay.
“Keep going,” the King said. He took my hand and tugged gently, leading me away from the evidence of Nahel's cruelty.
We followed his knights through yet another doorway, out into a dark room.
Before they could hold their lanterns aloft, light burst from high above, illuminating a massive room with a wood-plank floor and rough stone walls that swept up to become a ceiling.
Dining tables spotted the space, their chairs empty.
Although the room was big enough for an army to dine in, the ceiling was only twenty feet or so above us—not high enough for the Dragons to shift.
At the far end of the room stood another doorway.
Through it strode Chief Nahel of the Crimson Feathers.