Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LYVIA
The reasonable conclusion being one must clear and enter the Arx with magic.
– History of Votruvia, Kellan’s private library, the Hydra.
Lyvia – Beneath the Arx, Crimson Sea
The pleading scream wrenched from the traitor’s lips cut through the windless air below the Arx, the shadow of the floating mountain cutting off the distant heat of the sun.
Beaten and bloodied, the half-conscious man was aware enough to cry for mercy as Kellan’s crew carried him up to the crow’s nest.
Hanging cages reached down from above, rusted from blood and the spray of waves over hundreds of years.
The yellowing hands of rotting skeletons hung through their bars, the bones picked clean by the flock of seabirds nesting in the sparse rocks beneath the floating island.
Others hung chained by their wrists or ankles, dangling like puppets over the smooth waters of the Crimson Sea.
Kellan ignored the man’s pleas, striding across the deck to where Raek and others gathered packs of supplies for our trip.
The crow’s nest drew my attention as a pirate reached for a cage already occupied by cracking, aged bones.
Screams rose from above, and the man’s wild cries turned hysterical.
The spy was forced inside, his fate sealed with the scraping click of an iron lock.
Something hardened inside of me, as if the months of battle and war had placed one final stone, completing the fortress surrounding the softer, delicate parts of myself. I took a steady breath as I readied Tiberius for our departure.
My arms reached around Isla’s small form, my fingers weaving through Tiberius’s crimpy mane as he broke through the mid-morning clouds, only to slow his ascent as a looming gray mist shrouded the surface of the floating mountain.
“The island’s covered in it,” I called as Tiberius circled the island to get a better view.
“Astraeus’s book said you need magic to know where to land safely,” Isla replied. “Let’s hope this works.”
Isla’s arms lifted as she sent a blast of jasmine-laced wind spearing toward the fog, only for it to scatter above the surface for a mere moment, revealing a thick, dark jungle below. The fog swarmed back into place like sand in a bucket.
Isla sighed. “We’re going to need to do a full sweep of the island,” she murmured, and she rallied her strength as Tiberius circled.
Her wind scattered the mist as we soared over the island, and after nearly an hour, a narrow clearing finally revealed itself before the mist converged.
Tiberius didn’t hesitate. He lurched forward in a dive, and I pinned Isla to his back as my arms squeezed around her.
Tangled branches reached from massive trees as we shot through the cloud, Tiberius dodging and dipping around their sharp tendrils. The small clearing opened below, and we slid to a stop along a wet, overgrown, and muddy path.
Dew drops hung in the air, the moisture sticking to my throat as I took a deep breath and swung off Ti’s back. Isla followed as Tiberius left us, returning to the Hydra to ferry Aeriden and Kellan.
I adjusted my various packs. Enya’s blade was firm and warm against my back, and Honor was secure in my boot as I scanned the thick brush for signs of danger. Crowded, mossy trees overgrown with vines and wide leaves pressed in on us, the loamy scent of mud and vegetation clogging my nostrils.
Isla reached a tendril of wind from the tips of her fingers, and the surrounding dark green leaves rustled as it fluttered past.
“Our magic works normally here, at least,” she finally murmured. Her amber eyes were alert as they darted through the thick trees. “There must be some ancient spell keeping the mist in place above.”
I nodded in agreement. My mind’s eye blinked open to the cloud above, two heavy bodies on my back, as Tiberius cast his position to me. I returned the cast, allowing Tiberius to feel for my location with our bond. He landed several minutes later.
Aeriden showed no sign of pain as he hopped down on his recently healed leg, landing without a flinch and drawing our father’s sword. Kellan quickly followed suit. His dark eyes were narrowed and focused, and we strode into the thick jungle covering the floating mountain.
I peeled off my jacket, tying it off at my waist, as the slippery incline of the spindly mountain trail angled sharply upward. Sweat drew thick lines down my temples, mingling with the moisture from the air collecting on my skin as we hiked single file in silence.
After finding no other trails or clearings to spread out, we finally stopped to rest. I slumped against a mossy tree and tugged my hair out of its braid, stray strands sticking to my neck and creating an irritating tickle.
I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through the tangles, scraping the beading sweat on my scalp with my fingernails and gathering my hair above my head before securing it into a loose knot.
My eyes blinked open and caught on Kellan at the end of the line of our small group.
His soaked hair dripped from the bun he’d tied behind his head.
He’d abandoned the sea blue coat, stuffing it in his pack and rolling up the sleeves of his cream tunic beneath.
The damp fabric clung to the four, thick, scarred lines on his chest. His dark eyes slid from the lopsided knot on top of my head before tracing a line down my sweaty neck.
He drew them up to meet mine, his gentle stare lingering as I caught my breath.
“It’s too quiet here,” Aeriden finally broke the silence, snapping my attention back as my brother cracked his neck and shed his shirt altogether. He squeezed, twisting it between his hands, and I suppressed a gag as sweat dripped from the fabric.
“No animals,” Kellan murmured, popping the top of his waterskin and taking a long swig.
My attention lingered on his throat as he tilted his head back.
“Or bugs,” Isla agreed. “It feels wrong. Let’s keep going. I don’t want to stay on this island longer than necessary.”
We murmured our agreement and trudged up the side of the mountain, stopping once more before the trail leveled out and widened into a small clearing.
Jasmine wind stole through the space, scattering the lingering land cloud which swirled around a strange object sitting in its center.
Seated upon a small, elaborate marble statue of a winged woman with her arms out, lay a shallow, glittering basin.
The four of us spread out, circling the pedestal, the only evidence of non-plant life on the floating island beside the overgrown trail.
“No instructions this time, Bonscaíh,” Kellan murmured, before taking a cautious step forward and sliding his finger over the edge of the basin.
I shook my head, remembering the clues in the ancient script on the door to Faron’s tomb in the Death Dunes last summer.
“Empty,” he continued, leaning forward and examining the bottom. “Whatever it holds, it appears it can be drained.”
I moved to his side, and my forearm brushed against his as I peered at the small, plugged hole in the center.
“What’s holding it up?” Aeriden asked as he approached.
“It’s an Itherian,” I murmured, cocking my head at the small, winged human holding the basin, recognizing it immediately from the fresco in the Itherian tunnels inside the Crystal Castle.
“A what?” my brother asked, running a hand through his recently sheared, ebony locks.
“They were once slaves to the elves in Nivis,” Isla answered, squatting in front of the statue. “Olienna apparently freed them, though none have been seen since. Lyv traveled their tunnels in the Crystal Castle.”
A nauseating knot twisted in my stomach as memories surged forward, and I froze. Kellan reached a hand forward, gesturing to the Itherian, and his other dropped to his side, the edge of his pinky grazing the top of my hand and lingering there.
“And it looks like she’s missing a piece,” he added, pointing to her hands.
My skin pressed lightly against his finger, and he slid his palm over the back of my hand.
The pads of his fingers traced the indented paths on the top of my hand until they slipped between my own.
He subtly clasped the top of my hand, running his thumb over the edge of mine twice, the knot in my chest loosening upon his touch.
“Lyvi, this looks like your dagger,” Aeriden said, squatting next to Isla.
Kellan dropped my hand as I stepped forward and knelt next to my brother. He traced his hands over the blade sheathed in the Itherian’s belt.
“Onoiren,” I murmured, tracing the Old Votruvian word etched on the marble statue, looking more like a sword than a dagger hanging off the small being. I slid my eyes to Kellan, whose brows had pinched.
I stood and slipped Honor from my boot, the golden gem on the intricate blade glowing in the dim light of the hanging mountain.
I blinked. My lips parted as fog dissipated at the other end of the clearing, and a dark, ominous opening in the side of the mountain came into view.
Kellan followed my gaze, sending a current of cedar and leather wind snaking toward the entrance and scattering the rest of it.
The four of us stared at the wide opening. Bars of iron stretched from the ceiling to the floor, separating us from what lay beyond. We moved to its edge, examining the surrounding rock, checking for levers, words, key holes, anything that would open the gate, and coming up empty.
Isla stepped back to the pedestal and pulled the bottom of her tunic, polishing the arm of the Itherian.
“She’s been cut,” the small elf proclaimed, pointing to the Itherian’s wrist. “Look, she’s bleeding.”
“Honor opens more than just doors,” Kellan said as he moved to squat next to Isla, repeating the words etched on the stone door to the Advetis Chamber in the Death Dunes. “The entrance to Faron’s burial chamber required a fee. We left our weapons in order to enter.”
He stood and turned to me. His dark brows narrowed as if he didn’t like the conclusion he’d drawn. He extended a hand toward me, eyes sliding to the dagger. “It seems this entrance requires a sacrifice.”
My stomach pitched, and my grip on the dagger tightened. What was he saying? That someone needed to die for us to enter? No. Some sacrifices were not worth making…
Kellan’s eyes softened as he scanned my face.
“Blood, Bonscaíh.” His brows tilted upward in cautious amusement. “I think it requires our blood.”
He took a slow step forward and gently took the dagger, his thumb brushing the top of mine as he did so.
“That’s a large basin,” Isla murmured doubtfully.
“But it’s shallow,” Kellan countered, though he nodded in agreement. “Good thing there’s four of us.” A cocky smirk pulled the corner of his lips up, and he shot me a wink, the insufferable swagger I used to hate somehow easing the anxiety that slipped in.
He ran the edge of my blade over his wrist and held it out, a steady trickle of blood coating the bottom of the white basin. A phantom voice whispered in my mind… I will bleed for you, Bonscaíh.
The three of us followed suit. Honor’s sharp edge bit into my wrist so cleanly, the pain was delayed. We held our hands out, four lines of life flowing from our arms and spreading in a crimson pool below.
“How long do we—” Aeriden began after several minutes.
A long creak groaned from the entrance to the side of the mountain, and the long iron bars slowly rose to the top of the opening.
Kellan’s warm hands were on my arm, a thick strip of his shirt already ripped off as he tied it tightly around the slice on my wrist.
“Drink,” he commanded, thrusting a waterskin in my hand before turning to the others.
I swallowed the rise of nausea, blinking against the surge of lightheadedness from loss of blood, and took several slow sips. Our blood had filled the basin. Each of us sacrificed almost a waterskin full of our life force.
A chill, stale air floated from the darkness in the mountainside, waiting for its weakened visitors.