Nineteen
The walls of the temple were black. Much like the obsidian shards we had passed through, they were dark, shiny, and slightly
jagged, stretching up to a Void-black ceiling overhead. The edges caught my sleeves when I brushed against them. Shattered
black pillars lined the floor, and half-broken statues sat in alcoves along the walls. None of the statues were recognizable,
but I got the feeling that these were the visages of the Deathless rulers who had created this place.
Our distorted reflections stared back at us from the walls as we ventured farther into the maze-like corridors, our steps
echoing softly on the hard stones.
“Wait.” Meeka raised his head, ears twitching. Raithe stopped, and the jair’oa stood tall on his shoulder, motionless except
for the rotating ears. “Meeka hear something,” he said quietly. “Strange noises. Not natural.”
Abruptly, he leaped from Raithe’s shoulder and landed with a barely audible thump on the ground. “Wait here,” he told us,
glancing back. “Meeka go check it out, see what is making noise.”
“Meeka, it’s dangerous to go by yourself,” I said. “Let us come with you.”
The jair’oa shook his head. “More dangerous for humans,” he told me.
“Human come, things see human. Meeka small. No one see Meeka. No one notice Meeka. Meeka be in and out before things realize Meeka is there.” He took a hopping step toward the corridor, then turned to glare at us.
“Stay,” he ordered, pinning back his ears with a look that one would give a disobedient puppy. “Humans not move. Meeka be right back.”
He scampered into the dark hallway, vanishing almost immediately behind a pile of rubble. Silence descended, and Raithe and
I were alone.
I snuck a peek at him. He stood there for a moment, then walked to an alcove and leaned against it with his arms crossed.
His hood was up, and he blended perfectly into the wall with the line of broken statues. If you didn’t know he was there,
you could easily walk right past him without realizing he was alive.
“You keep looking at me like you want to ask me something.” I jumped as his quiet voice broke the stillness. I felt his gaze
on me, though his eyes were still hidden in shadow.
I swallowed. “I didn’t think this was a good time.”
He held out a hand, beckoning me to him. “The path ahead is going to be dangerous,” he murmured as I stepped forward. “We
probably won’t have another chance to talk before we reach the loom.” I placed my hand in his, and his fingers curled around
mine as he drew me forward. “So whatever you want to know, ask me now.” The hint of a wry smile lightened his eyes. “I’m guessing
this has something to do with what I told Kysa.”
I hesitated, then took a furtive breath. “What you said,” I began, “about the queen, and the iylvahn. Could she really . . . ?”
He gave a solemn nod. “No one can stand against a Deathless, Sparrow,” he said.
“But the queen and the iylvahn are even more connected. Our lives are bound to her. She takes a small portion of her power from all of us, and in return, she’s made Irrikah into the city you saw at the center of the labyrinth.
But . . . yes. If she willed it, she could snuff out my life in a heartbeat. ”
Horror, fear, and desperation clutched at my heart with icy fingers. “And you would still . . . ?”
His eyes went very soft. Reaching out, he drew me even closer and ran a gentle hand over my cheek. “I would,” he whispered.
“Every single time.”
No. I couldn’t let him do that. It was selfish of me to continue. If the queen knew, if she found out about me and Raithe, what
would she do to him? Would I watch him turn to dust in front of me? What if she tortured him, made him suffer? “We can’t keep
doing this,” I whispered, though I couldn’t quite make myself pull back. “Kahjai aren’t allowed to have attachments.”
He froze, the hand on my arm and the palm touching my cheek not moving. “Who told you that?” he asked quietly.
I shivered. He didn’t sound angry or upset, just puzzled. “The queen,” I admitted, finally looking at him. “She told me to
never trust my heart to a kahjai, because you’re forbidden from forming any type of relationship. You have to be focused and
on guard constantly, so you can’t have any attachments.” His jaw tightened, and my heart sank. “Is that true?” I asked.
He blew out a long breath, closing his eyes.
“Yes,” he finally admitted, and my insides squeezed painfully.
“That is true. But, Sparrow . . .” His eyes opened, his knuckles once again brushing my skin as he gazed down at me.
“We might be forbidden from having relationships while we’re still kahjai, but that doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to leave the Order once we find our soul-bound. ”
I blinked in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“In iylvahn culture,” he murmured, “we believe that we have one person—one soul—who is destined for us. And that once we find
them, those two threads tangle with each other and become one. Even if one thread is cut, once it’s woven back into the Tapestry,
it will instinctively search for the other. Sometimes we don’t find them in a single lifetime. But when we do, our threads
are woven together, and only death can break them apart.
“So, finding our soul-bound is a very serious thing in iylvahn society,” Raithe went on. “Perhaps the most important thing
that will ever happen to us. Even the Order recognizes that. Once a kahjai finds their soul-bound, they are expected to leave
the ranks and find a new purpose. Another kahjai is chosen to replace them, and the former is given well wishes with no malice
or resentment. Every iylvahn recognizes how precious the connection is, and no one, not even the queen, will attempt to keep
two soul-bound apart.”
Except for us, I guess. “Why would she say that to me, then?” I asked. “She could have told me about the soul-bound thing, and that the Order would
let you go if you found yours. But she made me believe that you weren’t allowed to form attachments at all.”
Raithe sighed. “Because she doesn’t want either of us dis-tracted,” he said.
“We’re trying to do the impossible, Sparrow—we’re attempting to defy prophecy.
Think about what that means. The future is balanced on a thread right now, and one tiny mistake could mean the end of everything.
” He shook his head with a smile. “Kysa was right—there are few things more distracting than falling for someone and worrying about the welfare of one individual soul.” Gently, he stroked the side of my head, running those long fingers through my hair.
“Unfortunately, it’s too late for me. I am very thoroughly distracted. ”
“But you’re still a kahjai, Raithe. Technically, you’re not supposed to be doing this.”
“I admit, I am breaking the rules a little,” he admitted. Lowering his head, he drew me closer, his words a low thrum in my
ears. “But I’m hoping the queen will forgive this small transgression if it means we put an end to the Deathless King.”
“And if she doesn’t? If she kills you instead?”
“Then I will look for you in my next life,” Raithe whispered. And before I could say anything else, he leaned in and touched
his lips to mine. A tingling, gentle caress. My eyes closed, and I slid my arms around his neck.
Maederyss help me. I cannot lose him. Even if the queen decides to end his life, I won’t allow it. I will fight the Deathless, the
gods, and Fate itself to keep him here.
“Humans!”
The patter of paws on stone interrupted us. Raithe pulled back as Meeka scampered toward us and slid to a stop a few feet
away.
“Things ahead,” he announced. His tail bristled, and the fur along his back stood up like that of an angry sand cat. “Many
things. Dead things. Humans must be careful. Many dead things roam halls. Smell rotten.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Dead things,” Raithe repeated. “Human or monster?”
“Not human. Not monster, either.” Meeka twitched his ears and looked back at the corridor. “Large dead things. Carry swords and shields. But not human.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand, Meeka.”
His tail lashed, and he leaped onto my shoulder. “Meeka will show you.”
Carefully, we ventured into the temple halls. Meeka was tense, his tail curled tightly around my neck. The corridors loomed
around us, black walls radiating heat as the shadows closed over us. Dust, smoke, and the smell of sulfur mingled, scratching
my throat as we continued down the pitch-black hallways.
A low, scraping raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A hollow thud, like the sound of a heavy footstep, followed, and
the smell of death wafted into the corridor.
Meeka’s claws dug into my skin, and I froze. “Sparrow,” Raithe whispered behind me. “Over here.”
I quickly joined the iylvahn behind a broken section of wall, pressing myself into the hot stones. Raithe wrapped an arm around
my waist, and we gazed at the end of the corridor.
The scraping and heavy footfalls continued, getting closer, until something huge and terrible lurched into view.
I dug my fingers into Raithe’s arm, and Meeka huddled down on my shoulder, ears flat to his skull. The creature standing at
the break in the corridor was over nine feet tall, huge and shaggy, decayed flesh and bone poking through its rotting armor.
It had the body of a massive human, but the bleached skull of a bull. An enormous two-headed axe was held in one giant claw,
dragging along the floor.
The undead bull creature gazed sightlessly down the hallway. Raithe, Meeka, and I didn’t move. Finally, the terrible creature turned and continued walking, the hollow clump of its hooves and the scrape of its axe grating in my ears until it finally faded into the darkness.
Meeka uncoiled and shook himself vigorously as if flinging away the tension. “Now humans understand?” he asked.
“The Tauryss,” Raithe said. “They were a race of giants from the beginning age of the Deathless. But their kind went extinct
thousands of years ago. I guess the Deathless left them here to guard the loom.”