Chapter 47
Kael
Get what Auren and Fern needed and don’t die. It seemed like a perfectly straightforward plan, right up until we arrived at the tomb. Situated on the windswept plains around the city of Blackreach, I wondered how we’d find it as we flew over.
There, Slate said, angling a wing down, but he needn’t have bothered.
Land had sunk down in a ragged line leading from the city walls to the tomb, making clear smugglers wouldn’t be using the caves as a means to move stolen goods in and out of the city. It also meant that this mission had just gotten a whole lot harder.
“I heard the tunnels collapsed during the war.” We’d all landed and Lorien was going strolling up to the sunken area. “But I found it hard to believe.”
“Collapsed means the area is unstable,” I growled. Disappointment was riding me hard. Whatever hopes I had of getting in and out of the tomb in one piece, as Fern stared up at me adoringly, died right then. “So let’s steer clear of the place until we’ve worked out what to do.”
Of course, that was the moment when all of our dragons ignored my order. Viridian led the charge, walking across the depression, his head waving back and forth, like a hound on the scent.
Brother, we need to keep clear of this area until we’ve worked out a safe way to explore it. My dragon ignored me. Slate?
Since the moment his egg hatched, I was bound tightly to my dragon. His thoughts were mine and mine, his, so this didn’t make sense. When I reached out to touch his mind, it was as if doing so through a thick fog.
“Slate!” I shouted, taking a step forward, then right as the sole of my foot touched the edge of the depression, it felt like the whole earth shook.
That disconcerting feeling was one I’d experienced only one time before: when we discovered the three silver eggs by falling through the roof of a cave. “You daft beast—”
“He’s not listening to you?” Lorien asked between gritted teeth. “Neither is ‘Fang.”
It became apparent why. The dragons came to a stop some way away from the depression, which was the only thing keeping me calm.
As we drew closer, the green dragon’s claws raked through the earth.
This seemed to be a call to action. The others milled around, then started digging as well.
Great plumes of earth and rock went flying back, forcing me to grab Fern and haul her into my side.
She shook her head, blinked, and then quickly realised why.
Whatever spell the dragons were under, she was befuddled by it too.
“Dain—” I said, but he cut me off.
“She’s talking to them.” He didn’t bother to explain who, and I knew it was neither Fern nor Auren. “She talked to me all the time before.”
“She did?” Lorien stared at our brother. “Drathnor, you mean?”
“Great queen. The White Death.” There was something portentous about the way Dain said the words, but then he frowned. “She’s telling them where—”
“To enter the caves.”
Lance dropped down into the new tunnel and it quickly became clear why.
A great stone archway had been excavated from the soil.
Large enough for dragons and humans alike to pass through, the dirt encrusted surface was covered in carvings.
Before I could pause to inspect them, the dragons moved.
Grabbing rocks, they pulled them free, turning to toss them on top of the dirt pile, then went back for more.
They were more like bees than dragons. Their blank-eyed stares as they worked making my hair stand on end.
Slate, I said as he passed by and I followed. Slate!
Perhaps the bond is broken?
Where the hell had that thought come from? We were bound together at the soul level. Nothing could break the link between us.
But how do you know?
I frowned, gritting my teeth as I strode forward. Dain might get lost in the what ifs and maybes, but I would always put a hypothesis to the test first. I stepped in front of my dragon’s path, expecting, hoping he’d stop.
“Kael!” My brothers’ shouts echoed across the site. “Kael!”
Perhaps it was my name, or maybe it was the fact my dragon had a massive claw raised, ready to stamp down on me.
I followed the pattern of the pale, pale scales, waiting for Slate to realise what he was about to do.
When his head dropped down, when he blinked and then took a step backwards, I let out a sigh of relief.
Brother, I said. What are you doing? We were going to work out what is the best plan and then forge ahead.
She’s calling me, he said, his voice somewhat faint. She’s calling me and I must answer.
Who is she? I was forced to throw myself out of his path as he moved again, tossing the rock where I was just standing, then turning back to gather another. Is it Auren? Fern? I swallowed, not wanting to name the most likely culprit. Drathnor?
Mother, he corrected, pausing for a second to stare at me.
We hadn’t returned to the caves since the day he was hatched. Why would we? Blackreach was a cesspit full of bad memories. I was beginning to see the difficulties we might’ve faced if we’d been forced to stay on the streets of Coalbottom.
“What do you mean Drathnor talked to you?” I asked Dain as he wove his way through the dragons. “Brother—”
“I have heard her voice all my life.” His fingers spread wide as they skimmed across the carvings. “She was more mother to me than my own. Told me one day I would discover the truth. If I just came to her…”
“You never said a word about that.” My hand went to his arm. “Dain.”
Trying to haul him backwards, away from the damn stone, earned me a snarl and a look that should’ve melted the flesh from my bones.
Maybe today is the day you lose it all, that insidious voice said. Everything you worked for. All that grubbing on the streets for nothing.
A figure moved to stand beside me and something in me told me not to look around. Never one to follow orders, my head turned slowly. There he stood, large as life and twice as natural, the Duke of fucking Harlston stood there.
“Hello, son.”
“I am not your fucking son.” That response was snapped out before I could think twice, because I knew what this was.
We might not be near the damned hallucinogenic mushrooms of the Tomb of Terror, but there had spores of something in the air.
How else could I explain this? “And you have been lying in the dirt, feeding the worms for five long years, you old prick.”
“You might join me after today.” That grin was a perfect replica of mine, but I liked to think it was never that cold. “You and all your little friends.”
This was not real. He was a mirage pulled out of my brain by a damn mushroom.
My hand shot out, mostly to dispel the ghost of the old bastard, but if that wasn’t enough, then I’d have to settle for slapping the man that abused my mother.
Part of me was disappointed when the Duke’s form disintegrated.
Lorien replaced him, bent over and vomiting water into the dirt.
“You’re not drowning.”
He’d confessed the nightmare he saw one night after a few ales.
His ‘father’ had tossed him into a river when he was little more than a baby, ostensibly to help him learn how to swim.
We both knew that Lorien looked nothing like his faired-haired mum or dad and so had to be the result of the herbs failing when she lay with a customer.
His mother loved him fine, but his father was far from unhappy when Lorien the cuckoo left the family home and joined our gang.
“I know…” he groaned, standing up straight. “Gods, how I hate this place.”
“At least we’re used to it—” I started to say, when Fern’s voice cut me short.
“No.” She shook her head firmly, backing away from whatever she saw. “No, you can’t make me. I won’t! I will not marry one of those men!”
See… the sly voice said. She has no intention of becoming your mate.
And you’re some long dead bitch of a dragon, I shot back as I stomped over, forced to dodge my way around the dragons as they worked.
“You cannot expect me to marry a man who wants me only for my dowry.” I watched Fern’s spine snap straight as she stared down an invisible foe.
“A man who intends to get sons on me before fleeing back to the arms of his mistress. I will not be tied…” As her voice broke, I was there, stepping closer.
“I will not bind myself to a man that compares me to a barnyard animal!”
“He didn’t…” My arms were around her in seconds and at first she fought my embrace. “Gods, Fern, tell me he didn’t.”
“Let me go!” she yelped. “Let me go!”
“Unhand her!” When Lance appeared, all traces of the lieutenant was gone. His snarl, the way he held his sword pointed at me. This was a man that meant business. “The queen will never take her, not while I draw breath.”
“Which queen?” I asked before looking down at Fern. “And what man dared insult you?”
My questions seemed to be the thing to break the spell they were under. Both of them blinked, then stared at me.
“Kael…?” Fern turning in my arms as she gazed up at me? Whatever happened, it would be worth it for just to see the look in her eyes. “What—?”
“The hell happened?” Lance’s eyes were everywhere and he hadn’t re-sheathed his sword, and I was fairly sure he wasn’t seeing visions anymore. Something else had him on edge and ready to fight.
“There’s a reason they call it the Tomb of Terror,” I said.
“We should’ve talked this through. I intended to sit everyone down and discuss what this place is like before we went charging in.
A species of mushrooms grows only within these caves and…
” We all turned as the last rock was carried away, revealing a tunnel, the gloom broken only by a faint purplish glow.
“They affect your brain. They make you see whatever the hell scares you the most.”
“Drowning.” Lorien appeared beside us. “How about you?”
“My mother.”
Fern’s cheeks burned bright red, making me think there was more to it.
“We’ve got something in common then,” I told her. “I see the bastard that impregnated my mother. Not Barry. How about you, Lieutenant?”
“Right now I see your brother walking into this tomb,” Lance said, shoving his sword back in its scabbard. “And if we want to stop him, we better move.”
“Shit, Dain.”
Sure enough, he walked into the very same tunnel he told us to steer clear of, his white hair a beacon in the dark.
“Lorien, take Fern—”
“Into the tunnel?” came her sharp reply. “I’m glad we are agreed.”
“Dain saw you die in here,” I said between clenched teeth. “I’d really rather that the tomb didn’t become your last resting place.”
“So we’ll have to be careful.”
The way Fern stood up to me, eyes blazing, was a familiar thing. She’d used my words against me, hadn’t she?
“We’re losing sight of Dain,” Lance said. “If we’re going to follow the one man who seems to know the way…”
We needed to go now. With a nod, I took a step forward, hearing a faint whine as I passed beneath the gate.
Figures loomed up out of the darkness as we walked on, forcing my hand to my sword.
The others did the same, freezing to the spot as dragons flared to life.
Not actual living, breathing ones, of course, but those carved from stone.
Dragonstone it looked like, because as we drew close, something flickered then glowed brighter, lighting our way.
“Well, that’s… useful.”
Lorien’s hands gripped his daggers tight, but he nodded to the stone dragon as we passed.
This way.
Slate pushed past me, striding off into the shadows, but yet more stone dragons lit up.
“Apparently it’s this way,” I said with a shake of my head. “Shall we?”
Part of me wanted one of the others to put an end to this madness, but I had no such luck.
“Into the very scary tomb, past all the mysterious stone statues we did not see last time,” Lorien muttered as we walked further in. “Sure, that sounds like a very good plan.”
It wasn’t. He knew it and so did I, but it was the one we were running with now.
The three of us were used to this sort of thing.
When we were still street rats, we were forced to think on our feet, be able to pivot as soon as a situation turned bad.
Those instincts got us out of plenty of scrapes before, so they’d serve us well now.
Will they? That damned voice was back in my head. Then come further, little human. Will you find clarity or… A low chuckle reverberated around in my head. Or will you die like the dogs you are?
“Murdoch, Murdoch, clever knave.” Lorien sang the rhyme the girls always used when playing skip rope. “Went to Drathnor’s shadowed cave. Learned too much, lost his head. Now he studies with the dead.”
“Well, that’s not terrifying at all,” Fern said in a voice that wavered just a little. “Exactly who was this Murdoch?”
“The last man to spend any real time in the Tomb of Terror,” I replied, eyeing the walls. More bas relief sculptures were carved into the tunnel, but I strode past them. “Academic from Wyrmpeak who made it his life’s work to study the tomb.”
“Went mad and ended up in an asylum as a reward for all his hard work,” Lorien added.
“Hope the roof doesn’t collapse in on us, that we don’t go mad or get lost in this gods awful place,” Lance muttered, his sword back in his hand. “All in a day’s work then.”
Whatever anyone else had to say, it was cut off by the sound of a far off roar.
“Auren!”
Fern surged forward, running deeper into the tunnel.