Chapter 30 #2
That wasn’t to say the rest of us were exactly comfortable.
Made of dirt and mud, the tunnel had been carved deep in the underbelly of the land, slightly winding in its path.
It was tall enough for Harthon to stand upright, but only wide enough for two of us to stand side-by-side.
Roots dangled from above, lining the walls in a kind of netting, as if they were all that kept the ground from caving in and burying us.
The air was tinged with mold and weighted with an unnatural stillness, reminding us with every inhale that we were not in a place humans were meant to be.
It would be challenging to transport resources out of the Domus through here.
We’d be limited to a single stream of movement, not to mention the challenges of the Horrads at the other end.
Maybe we could widen the path, but if those roots were supporting the tunnel’s structure, we’d have to be careful.
Time lost all meaning as we trekked, the monotonous walls and lack of daylight sucking us into an unsettling void.
Occasionally, the walls would open to other tunnel branches, but a swipe of torchlight would show them overgrown and crumbling, completely impassable.
At one time, they may have been good decoys, but now, it was clear which path the magvis had used to leave Centralis.
Perhaps that was why the kernel in my chest had been soft and quiet since we reached the tree. Its role here was done.
We didn’t know how much time had passed when something other than muck and roots appeared.
At the first brush of light from Harthon’s torch, it appeared as jagged rock jutting from the tunnel ceiling, like a miniature mountain range laid across the surface.
On his next step, some light reflected back from a handful of tiny peaks.
Then its color came, and with it, the awe.
We slowed to a stop, mouths gaping as Harthon waved his torch in a measured arc, illuminating the vibrant hues and sharp, glassy edges of jewels—hundreds of them, protruding from the walls in brilliant shades of lavender and deep purple.
The ethereal sight was enough to make Aric find his voice. “Already, our journey is worth something,” he mused, careful to keep his voice down. We didn’t know how far sound carried down here, or what could be listening on the other side.
Harthon’s torch whooshed as he crept forward another step, revealing more of those incredible gemstones.
“What is it?” I whispered in amazement. I’d seen plenty of jewels in the past weeks, dripping around Lords’ necks and nestled within chandeliers. But this was a treasure trove, a wellspring of beauty and wealth that didn’t belong in this dead world, never mind in the deep underground.
“Amethyst,” he answered.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” I expressed, wonderstruck. Not even Harthon’s garden could compete with this.
He looked at me pointedly, dark eyes illuminated by the torchlight. “I cannot say the same.”
I wondered how well he could see the blush on my cheeks.
Stefano brushed his finger along a sharp gem facet. “It looks like your eyes.”
I stepped closer to better see the rock in the light. The tips were fainter in color, almost transparent if you got close enough, but their bases came with deep plums and the occasional metallic streak.
“It shouldn’t be here,” Aric said pensively. He looked more perplexed than amazed as he, too, trailed a finger over those ridges. “Amethyst doesn’t spawn out of dirt like this.”
“Maybe we’re right under the Domus’ walls,” I mused. If this was unnatural, it was undoubtedly connected to the magvis and her feat.
Aric dropped his hand. “I suppose we’ll see.”
Maybe my theory was correct, because the amethyst turned out to only be a patch, ending ten paces later as the tunnel returned to its previous state and continued on. The torchlight had just started to waver when a wall rose ahead.
An instant later, a shower of dirt rained down in front of it.
An exit, opening for us.
Harthon signaled for us to wait as he investigated. When he reached the wall, he looked up, extending the torch high. The only light that played on his face was that from the flame.
For sunlight not to brush his skin, the climb out had to be incredibly long.
He waited until he rejoined us to report.
“It’s definitely the way out. There are roots here like the last time, though it’s hard to tell how deep we are.
We’re going to exit in the opposite order we entered, so Aric and Stefano, you’re going first. Take a moment to scout and signal once it’s clear. ”
Aric didn’t wait another moment to charge to the exit point and start climbing. The amethyst had been a nice distraction, but he was eager to be in the open.
Or maybe he was eager to see the inside of the Domus, a city no one from our Territories had seen in over two decades.
I watched Stefano track his progress, waiting for the excitement, or the accomplishment, or the relief to hit.
We were here, in Centralis. In the place that was going to save us, the place that had consumed my thoughts and emotions and entire being for weeks. The place that had been an impossibility until I’d stumbled upon the magvis while trapping game.
This moment was surreal, an absolute pinnacle, yet all I felt was the practical trepidation of having to climb my way out of this tunnel.
My emotional well was empty. I’d been captured more times than a person should survive and watched men be mortally wounded.
I’d reached a point of fearing death every other day, sent Harthon into a brutal fight, and struggled to understand this thing inside of me that still remained mostly a mystery.
The list went on, tracing a path of emotional whiplash that had drained me dry.
This was just another day.
After Stefano made his exit, our wait was short. A high-pitched whistle echoed down the vertical drop.
Harthon placed my hands over the two strongest-looking roots.
“I like jumping out of windows. I’ve never gone up before,” I said, stalling my task with nervous humor.
With straight-faced sincerity, he said, “If you fail, we’ll be adding wall climbs to your training regimen.”
I was fairly certain that was a threat.
“Maybe you’ll need to add it to yours,” I snarked, heaving myself up.
“Don’t look down or up,” Harthon advised as my feet left the ground. “Just focus on your next immediate step.”
His instruction became my mantra as I climbed. The incline was steep but not fully vertical, allowing my feet some purchase as they moved in tandem with my hands. Still, my arms were trembling by the time the dirt wall morphed into a light brown, dimly illuminated by weak light.
I didn’t realize I reached the top until two pairs of hands hauled me over the edge. Limbs shaking with fatigue, I crawled away from the hole and flipped onto my back, eyes closed as I focused on catching my breath.
When I finally opened them, there were no tree limbs towering above me; only the swirling, iridescent walls of the Domus in the nearby distance, extending with an inward curve until they disappeared behind a dark layer of clouds.
Rain clouds.
I remembered them from my childhood, when the skies still had enough strength to give us the water our land needed.
There was movement by the tunnel exit as Harthon emerged, but it was all peripheral for me.
I rose to my feet, scanning down from the walls until I was taking in our immediate surroundings.
We were in a small clearing surrounded by brambles so dense and tall, I couldn’t see through them.
They weren’t thick from leaves, but from the sheer volume of bare branches crisscrossing every which way, spikes jutting out in a natural defense.
Naked and sharp, they were a clever, ugly camouflage, discouraging anyone from delving into them.
As Joris made his climb, Aric and Harthon studied the brambles around us. Metal zinged as they freed their swords and started hacking at a section, aiming to cut our way through.
Their progress was slow, but soon enough, they’d carved a thin line into the tangles, only bothering with those from the shin up.
I watched anxiously as they kept at a steady pace, not appearing to need any help.
When the sound of their blows paused, I eased in behind them, eager to see what waited on the other side.
With their bulk blocking the way, it was impossible to make anything out.
What were they waiting for?
Aric’s shoulders heaved up and down, and he finally stepped out of the brush. Harthon followed him, his posture stiff. But neither told us to stay hidden inside the circle. There was no threat, which meant something else had strung them with tension.
When I emerged from the brambles and saw what it was, my observations took on new meanings—the dark, sooty clouds, the tangle of naked briars, the dirt beneath my feet that I hadn’t noticed until now because I was so used to it.
The land inside the Domus was dead.