Chapter 37
The next morning, I wake before Desmond. It’s for the best. He needs the extra rest, and I don’t want him to realize I lied.
As I enter the inn, Auri looks me over, lips pursed. Once she confirms I’m unharmed, she returns to her breakfast: goat stew. Again. I already miss Nog’s cooking.
The innkeeper tells us that off the road, the landscape is too difficult for the carriage to traverse.
We decide to leave the carriage and Enbarr behind.
Fortunately, we’d already prepared to continue on foot as a contingency, and I have the enchanted pack to hold supplies and the treasure we find.
We’ve dropped the folded bridge into it, too.
We’re also told some unsettling news. Four days ago, strange individuals passed through Vekhara. They kept their faces covered, but they were much taller than even the humans that occasionally visit. They ventured south—toward Olin’s tomb.
The fomorians are waiting for us there, courtesy of the guild’s traitor.
Min, Auri, Finnian, and I head outside and find Desmond waiting at the carriage. His gaze lingers on me while we grab what we need, but he says nothing about last night. Neither do I. The others don’t leave us alone long enough.
Auri crosses her arms once we finish. “So the fomorians reached the tomb first.”
Desmond nods once, unsurprised. “There may also be rival tomb raiders, if they survive Gashil.” He puts on a pair of leather gloves. “Auri, wear yours too. We can’t afford burns from their iron.”
Finnian already has his gloves on, hiding his scars. He forces an optimistic smile. “Do you think they’ll bring a house-warming gift?”
“Their swords,” Auri says, tying her braids back with a leather cord.
Min tilts her head. “Their disposal of the rival raiders could be considered a housewarming gift. However, can they warm a house that they do not own? The tomb is occupied only by the—”
“It was a joke,” Finnian blurts, then claps her on the back. His hand lingers, briefly combing through her long, black hair before he pulls away. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Then some more jokes may be required,” she replies.
“Please, no more jokes,” Auri complains. “Really, Min. Don’t encourage him.”
Desmond laughs under his breath. A hint of a smile warms his hazel eyes. Something about it warms me, and I turn away as my chest squeezes.
Then we leave Vekhara behind and follow Desmond south toward Olin’s tomb—and whatever waits for us there.
As the sun kisses the sky’s apex, not even the breeze is enough to stop me from sweating.
My heavy pack clings to my back, and my shoulders already ache.
This far into the inhospitable landscape of Torok, we’re surrounded by outcroppings of rock and moss-like grass, with straggling patches of trees.
We’ve had to climb down steep slopes, hike up steeper ones, and cross a shallow river that soaked through my boots.
I hate the feeling of my feet sloshing inside them.
We walk for hours, stopping only for brief rests and snacks.
Eventually, the landscape grows tamer and more lush.
Grassy hills dip and rise before us, but they’re unnaturally round in a familiar way.
A grin lights my face. If I ever miss raiding tombs, I’ll remember this spot. I’ve never seen so many barrows before.
“Which one is Olin’s?” I ask.
“The widest one, according to the intel we’ve gathered.” Desmond points ahead. “This whole area is a necropolis, from when Avedor used to occupy the area.”
“So, how did Olin die?” I ask him.
“Assassination.” Then Desmond takes off again, his long strides making Min and me step quicker to catch up.
When we reach the hill, it’s even wider than it looked from a distance. It would take several minutes to circle it. Finnian whistles low. “That’s a big hill.”
“The larger the barrow, the more draugr that must lurk within,” I murmur. Suddenly, I’m not sure if we brought enough weapons.
Auri shrewdly appraises it. “Why haven’t we encountered the fomorians? It would’ve been wise of them to ambush us as soon as we reached the hills.”
“They might already be inside,” I reply.
However unlikely the odds, I hope they’ve gotten lost and won’t show up until we’re long gone.
“Why are they after us, anyway?” I voice it to everyone, but I look at Desmond. He had told me that the fomorians had been targeting him since before we met. Is it only because he’s the High Prince, or is there more to it? Something related to this tomb raid?
“They want Avedor to keep their control over the Hollowlands,” Desmond answers. “What I don’t know yet is why. The fomorian king and Avedor’s queen don’t have a formal alliance.”
“How do we get inside?” Auri interrupts. She glares at Desmond as if trying to silence him.
I know better than to think I’ll get more information out of them now. “There are grooves in the hill, like there used to be steps around it.” I walk onto the first few that form an eroded, twisting incline. “The entrance must be at the top.”
“I’ll lead,” Desmond says.
I smile at him, then continue climbing. “Too late.”
“Cyn,” he calls out with an exasperated edge to his voice as he follows me. When I look back, I expect him to frown. Instead, he’s smiling. “I’m right behind you.”
My heart flutters. He didn’t smile this much when we met.
I’m sure of it. As I resume climbing the hill, I realize this is the first tomb I’ve raided with someone, besides the water-logged one with Evie.
Gods, I still wish I hadn’t brought her with me.
Nothing would’ve prepared her for the traps and the draugr.
I should feel less trepidation about the others accompanying me. They’re trained: Finnian in breaking and entering undetected, and the others in combat. Yet when Auri, Finnian, or Min could be the traitor, it’s impossible to say that we’ve got each other’s backs.
Still, I should give them some warnings.
“Traps are very common,” I call out over my shoulder.
“Look for pressure plates, odd gaps between stones, or recesses in the ceiling. Don’t touch things unnecessarily, especially levers and ropes.
Draugr can be killed by decapitation or by fire.
They’re slow when they first wake up from their alcoves, and I’ve only encountered one that could use magic.
” I pause, grimacing. “He wasn’t easy to defeat. ”
“I will do my best to heed all of your warnings,” Min says from behind Desmond. Auri and Finnian nod.
I reach the top of the hill, where the stairs reverse into a depressed chamber that’s open to the sky.
It’s wide enough for three people to stand in a row with their arms held out.
Stone alcoves line its walls, each bearing a weathered sculpture.
Dried blood spots the floor. Someone’s been here recently, and they were hurt.
The stone floor has no obvious signs of a pressure plate trap, but I still reach out with my Gift. I caress each flagstone until I’m satisfied, then push on the first sculpture.
Arrows fly out from gaps in the stone around the statue. They clatter against the opposite alcove. “The fomorians must’ve picked up after themselves, if they’re inside.”
“We’re stopping here while Cyn investigates the chamber,” Desmond says to everyone behind him.
I test each sculpture, triggering arrows until I push on a large bird with a slightly hooked beak. No arrows fly, but no hidden entrance reveals itself, either.
“Got it. So we have to press the sculptures in the right order, or we’re shot.” I hop down into the chamber to look for clues, anticipation buzzing in my chest.
Desmond examines everything with quiet interest.
Auri descends next, then scoffs. “A puzzle. I dared to hope that if there was one, the fomorians would’ve solved it for us.”
“Maybe they have.” I squat before a half-footprint of dirt on the stone floor, right before the bird’s alcove.
Finnian crouches beside me. “Is this your death god’s animal?”
“Its name is Styr,” Desmond says. “Osian’s crow.”
I wonder if he knew that because of his fascination with books or from his human father. If we were alone, maybe I’d ask him.
“There’s another footprint over here,” Auri says, pointing at a statue of Fenris, the wolf companion of the mother goddess Elowyn.
“When I prodded that one, it triggered the trap,” I tell her. “There’s an order to it. Styr, Fenris, and then. . .” Four other statues remain, three of them the companion animals of one of Avedor’s gods. I don’t recognize the fourth.
Desmond notices me staring at it. “That’s Danu’s white stag. In Olin’s time, there was a confluence between religion in the Hollowlands and Avedor.”
Everything changed after the War of Burning’s treaty was signed. But this isn’t the time to get caught in the past, perhaps an ironic notion considering we’re about to raid a tomb. We need to stay focused.
“Alright, everybody out. I’m going to push on things until something works,” I tell them.
“And what if an incorrect combination destroys the chamber?” Min asks.
I shrug. “Would’ve happened already when other raiders came through here.”
We all climb back onto the stairs circling the hill. I start with Styr, then Fenris, then Aedros’s ram. Another volley of arrows flies.
“Maybe you should get it wrong a few more times,” Auri says. “Arrows don’t grow on trees, after all.”
“However, the wood they are shaped from—” Min begins.
“I’ll think about it,” I answer. None of us needs an explanation of how arrows are made. “Do you think the order is reverse alphabetical? Or their importance to King Olin? Elowyn has always been Avedor’s main deity, so why is Osian first?”
“Perhaps because he presides over death. Would that not include tombs?” Min asks.
It’s a good point. Maybe King Olin wanted to venerate the gods in order of their importance to the afterlife? “If that’s the case, I’m betting Aedros’ ram is last. So that leaves the gods Rhea, Haldren, and Danu in the middle.”