Chapter 12 #2
“Obviously,” Bastien replied, the hint of a smile curling the edge of his lips as he continued to write.
“Who else was in the Cradle when the incident occurred?”
Cirian’s brow drooped in concentration. “Sancha is the obvious answer, but it’s not tried to come near her.
Or maybe she’s been able to keep it away, I’m not sure which.
Other than her, no other bishops or high-ranking clergy were present when the Umbral attacked.
It was mostly families visiting from El Shaddith and the caretakers of the Cradle. ”
“If it is looking for power, why wouldn’t it go after the Cardinal?” I questioned, the logic bumping against my mind uncomfortably. “She’s more powerful than any Magi I’ve ever met. I’d go as far as to say even Adoranda Greene was outclassed by Sancha’s power.”
“Maybe Cirian was right, and she’s too powerful for the Umbral to influence?” Bastien queried. “It doesn’t want to pick a fight it knows it can’t win.”
It was hard to imagine an overwhelming force like the Umbral thinking itself too weak. There must have been something that we were missing.
“That thing is lucky that Sancha was wounded before it decided to show its ugly face,” Cirian gloated, a spring in his step. “She would have ripped that thing out of you herself, Bast.”
“I have no doubts,” I agreed. Sancha was formidable, even as her magic was slowly being sapped away by her wound from a Sanguine blade. But the longer the wound went untreated….
The idea struck me just as a tremor shook the Cradle, throwing the three of us off balance. Cirian braced himself against the wall, glancing up as the ceiling rained cinereal dust like I was a gentle spring rain.
“What was that?” Bastien questioned, his notebook clutched against his chest.
“How far are we from the Cardinal?” I asked, forcing myself into motion once more. Every muscle ached, the wounds I’d sustained in my bout with the Umbral’s shades making their presence known with every step.
“Shouldn’t be far,” Cirian replied, confusion rooting itself in his expression. “What is it?”
“It’s coming for her,” I said, still willing myself forward down the hall. The others quickly followed after me as I continued my explanation. “It’s been biding its time, waiting for her wound to weaken her enough that it can take control.”
“Are you saying that it’s been playing with us this whole time?” Cirian asked.
Another rumble rippled through the Cradle, creaks echoing through the stone walls. I urged my aching legs forward, breaking into a run. There could still be time to reach Sancha. If we could just intervene, we could drive the Umbral away like we’d done twice before.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Cirian muttered, his breathing labored as he kept my pace.
“We’ll get her,” Bastien assured him.
A third disturbance rippled through the ground beneath our feet, nearly causing me to stumble. The shaking was getting stronger, and I could only hope that didn’t mean Sancha was already fighting for her life.
We rounded a corner just as the wall a few yards ahead of us exploded, pelting us with rubble and a searing wave of heat.
The force hurled me against the wall opposite the blast, my knees buckling underneath me as I landed, falling into a crumpled heap on the floor.
My ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I struggled to right myself.
Bastien was already on his feet, shouting something I couldn’t hear over the incessant ringing.
I couldn’t see Cirian in the haze of the settling dust, but the way forward, towards the source of the blast, was littered with slabs of grey stone and timber.
The stone closest to me had scorch marks that spread like a lightning bolt across the surface, burned into the stone itself.
Bastien crawled over the rubble, his voice finally filtering through enough for me to make out.
“Cirian!”
Getting to my feet felt like an impossible task, but once I’d managed it, I followed Bastien, pausing only to lean over and spit the mixture of grit and blood from my mouth.
Making it over the first barrier, I recognized the deep color of the shattered wood that lay in heaps around me.
It was the same wood that lined the altar back in Sancha's sanctuary.
We’d arrived too late.
Pushing through the rubble, I ducked through what used to be a doorway.
The damage was just as prevalent here as it had been in the hall.
Rows of benches had been smashed, each reduced to piles of lumber and stone.
The altar suffered a similar fate, being ripped from the very foundation itself and hurled across the room.
Cirian knelt by the space it had once occupied, his face buried in Bastien’s chest.
There was no sign of Sancha, nor of the others who had occupied this room during our last visit. I could only hope that they were able to escape whatever caused this destruction. But there was so much stone. It could have concealed the bodies of all of them.
“I can’t lose her, Bast,” Cirian's voice rose above the residual ringing in my ears. “I can’t. I swear on the Source itself. It will be the end of me.”
“We’ll find her,” Bastien replied.
“We’ll save her,” I clarified, joining them in the wreckage of the altar. “She can’t have gone far. Where would the Umbral take her?”
Bastien nodded. “If we’re right about it wanting to destroy the Source, then it would take her to the place where it manifests.”
“The Communion,” Cirian said, his voice raw and eyes wet. “It’s beneath us, at the very heart of the Cradle.”
“You need to lead us there,” I said to him, wincing as I knelt beside the two of them. “But before you do, I need to ask if you can spare any magic. I’m in desperate need of a healer.”
Cirian wiped the tears from his face, nodding. “Yes, right. Gods, I’m sorry, Azrael. You must be in such anguish.”
“It’s nothing I can’t bear. But I want to make sure I can move freely. If a conflict is imminent, then we need to be ready.”
Cirian rose onto his feet, muttering an incantation under his breath, and his hands began to glow with cerulean light. He cupped those hands around my face, leaning down to press his forehead to mine, and it wasn’t long before I felt the warmth of his tears as they dripped down upon my face.
Relief surged through me as I felt his magic go to work, reknitting torn muscles and setting splintered bones as it went. After a minute or two, I placed my hands over his, pulling them away gently.
“That’s enough,” I told him, giving a slight nod. “You’ll want to save the rest for later.”
Cirian sniffed, wiping the end of his nose. He looked exhausted. We all did. But there was a monster waiting for us at the heart of the Cradle, and ready or not, we had to face it.
Rising to join Cirian, I stretched, enjoying the brief respite from my injuries. Pain had a tendency to cloud the mind. Now I could think clearly and focus on the task ahead.
“We need to get to the heart,” I said, looking between Bastien and Cirian.
“What do you intend to do when we get there?” Bastien questioned. “Neither of us can stand up to Sancha. Especially if her restraint has been throttled.”
“But the three of us together stand a chance,” I suggested. “At least long enough that we can get the tether attached to her like we did for Bastien and myself.”
Bastien scratched his chin, not at all convinced. “It could work. We’d have to be extremely lucky. Plus, we have no guarantee the tether will work for her. It’s only been tested on those of us who share the connection already.”
“I see no alternatives,” I admitted, looking over to Cirian, whose dark eyes stared into the space beyond Bastien and me.
I could only imagine what must be going through his mind.
Sancha was precious to him, and this must have been the first time he’d ever imagined that she could actually be in danger.
“Are you ready?” I asked, making all attempts to keep my tone gentle.
He blinked, his hazy gaze falling back on me before he nodded.
“Lead the way.”
The halls of the Cradle seemed to have no end.
Even as we descended a dozen staircases and navigated infinite halls of grey stone, there was always another corridor waiting for us.
Cirian moved with great purpose, his pace slowed by neither obstacle nor fatigue.
Fear radiated from him, thick enough that it struck my nose.
He was terrified. And I couldn’t blame him.
Bastien scribbled furiously as we went, muttering under his breath and constantly tripping over his own feet. I stayed close to him, catching him with each stumble and managing the direction of his gait.
“What has captured your attention?” I asked after the third save.
“A theory,” he answered without looking up.
“If we’re able to remove the Umbral once again, then we’ll have to devise a way to trap it before it can move to another host. I know of a few spells that Reviled have used to hold the essence of those who passed until their bodies can be repaired.
Pulls them right from the Ether and binds them to an object.
It doesn’t last for long, maybe a few days at most, but my theory is that I can tweak the spellwork to contain the Umbral so it can’t leap into another vessel. ”
“Gods bless your brilliant mind,” I replied, a hand on the small of his back as I guided him around another turn, spurring him on to keep pace with Cirian.
“Of course, I don’t have any of these components,” Bastien continued. “Nor an item to serve as the temporary vessel, but it’s at least something.”
“It’s more than we had prior,” I encouraged him. “Keep at it.”
“We’re almost there,” Cirian called back to us, his breathing labored.
The ground beneath our feet thrummed, vibrating like the wings of an insect.
“That can’t be a good sign,” I proposed as we rounded another corner, taking the descending stone stairs two at a time.
“It’s trying to commune,” Cirian answered, breaking into a full sprint as we crested the bottom stairs.