Chapter 8 #2
But of course, people also meant potential enemies. Potential danger.
“I’ll move to the front,” she inserted after several moments of careful listening. She snuffed out her torch. “You take up the rear, Cam, and have your blade ready.”
“Hye, Majesty,” Cam agreed, squeezing himself against the stone so Vivia could pass. Vaness did the same, her eyes holding Vivia’s. She was cast almost fully in shadow. It softened her.
Vivia handed Vaness the unlit torch.
“Be careful,” the Empress murmured, her fingers sliding around the grip.
“I always am,” Vivia replied.
Which earned her a quiet scoff that was unexpectedly bright in all the darkness. It made Vivia think of all she and Vaness had faced and fought together. And it gave her heart iron when she needed it most.
Ahead, the hole in the floor was just as jagged as the “path” they’d taken through the mountain. It too must have opened in the quake. Vivia crept closer; the voices pitched louder. Two people. A man, a woman, and speaking with an urgency that suggested panic.
“No,” the man said, his voice a warm, rounded thing. “I swear that’s the way we came. It just looks different after the quake.”
“Naw, naw,” the woman replied, her voice harsher. Less polished. “You’ve gotten twisted around. That rock hit you hard—”
“Not that hard.”
“—and if we head down the steps, we’ll hit the big cavern again. See, look. There’s a tunnel on this map.”
A map. Vivia’s excitement tripped higher. She hurried to the hole’s lip, craning her neck—inch by careful inch—until she could see the edge of a boot. Then a black-clad leg. Then a sheathed weapon and buckler with a double-headed eagle stamped upon it. Which meant these were Cartorran soldiers.
She yanked out of sight. The Cartorrans were in the midst of upheaval. And while Vaness swore the new leader, Safiya fon Hasstrel, would help the Marstoki cause and Vivia’s too, Vivia had yet to receive any actual confirmation of this.
“I wish the commander were here for this mission.”
“He’s a captain now, Lev, remember?”
“He’ll always be a commander to me.”
“Don’t let him hear that.” A snort. “And also don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re doing well for your first command.”
“Yeah, yeah. The prince wouldn’t have appointed me if he didn’t think I could do it. You keep tellin’ me that.”
“Because you keep doubting it.”
Noise rustled behind Vivia, the faintest shift of fabric and scrape of shoe. Then suddenly it was not Cam behind Vivia, but the Empress again. Her eyes were even bigger now. “I know those voices,” she whispered. “They’re Hell-Bards.”
Vivia scrabbled farther from the hole. “And that’s good because?” She was so quiet, she more mouthed these words than uttered them.
“Because these are the Hell-Bards who were with the Truthwitch when we were imprisoned in Saldonica. I could not have escaped without them—nor escaped Azmir during the coup, either.”
“But why would they be here?” Cam now thrust in, his voice as hushed as Vivia’s. “That seems like a real coincidence.”
There are no coincidences, Vivia thought. Except when there are. She cleared her throat. The hairs on her neck pricked tall.
“I will go first,” Vaness said.
“No, wait.” Vivia grasped at her shoulder. “We should be cautious.”
“Of course. But we also have no reason to hold back. Especially since”—here she smiled and her eyes turned murderous—“they have iron on their bucklers and armor. So if I do not like what they say, I need not listen.”
She tugged free from Vivia, and with her usual grace, she dropped through the hole. Her feet landed a half heartbeat later. “Hello, Hell-Bards.”
Vivia didn’t hear what came next. She had reached the hole and was climbing through. Her pack scraped on stone. Her landing was decidedly ungraceful, and jolted through her ankles, her knees, all the way up to her teeth. By the time she’d wobbled to standing, Cam had plopped down beside her.
The Hell-Bards meanwhile ogled the new arrivals. The walls and ceiling were sharply square; the stairs worn but well carved. Firewitched lanterns guttered in sconces nearby, but twenty paces up and twenty paces down were shrouded in total darkness.
“Empress … Vaness?” the Hell-Bard woman asked, her green eyes so wide they pulled at scars fanning across her cheek to her ear. She was young with a heart-shaped, pale face. “Is this real? Is that really her, Zan, or am I seeing those nightmares the prince warned us about?”
“I … think it’s her, Lev.” The man’s eyes scrunched. He was a giant, his neck so wide it gave him the illusion of having no neck at all. Meanwhile, his short hair was the same color as his browned skin, while a new beard sprouting across his face gleamed fiery red.
“It is me,” the Empress said in Cartorran, lifting her hands appeasingly. “I am no nightmare. And these are two friends of mine. Cam.” She waved to the boy. “And … Livia.”
Well, Vivia supposed it was wisest to avoid revealing her true identity. However, as far as aliases went, Livia was blighted bad. And the woman Lev clearly agreed. Her eyebrows crooked high. “Livia, huh? And a Nubrevnan admiral too, who looks a lot like how the rightful queen is described.”
Vivia sighed. She was glad to hear the word rightful—and frankly glad she wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.
Her brain couldn’t handle any more tumult right now.
“Yes, you’re right: I am Vivia Nihar, rightful queen of Nubrevna.
Cam here, though…” She laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“He really is Cam, but he doesn’t speak Cartorran, so if you might be so kind as to explain why you’re here in the middle of this mountain, then I will translate the situation to him. ”
“It’s simple,” Lev answered, shrugging at Zander. “We were supposed to use the magic doorways in the mountain to travel, but. Well, the ruttin’ mountain changed on us—twice. We’ve been wandering around ever since. It’s almost … what, two days now? Kind of impossible to tell, honestly.”
“Travel to where?” Vaness asked as Vivia translated softly. The boy, his mouth agape, just listened and wagged his head.
“Nubrevna, of course.” Lev said this in a way that suggested both Vivia and Vaness should have known. “Because we have letters. For you.” She looked at Vaness as she said this. Then twisted toward Vivia. “And for you.”
Vivia stopped her translation. “A letter? From whom?”
It was Zander who replied, his voice somber and practiced: “From Her Imperial Majesty Safiya fon Cartorra. She requests your aid immediately in Poznin, and in return, she will give you all the soldiers you need to reclaim your rightful thrones.”