Chapter 24 #2
Another bloody cave. The rough stone ceiling rose to only an arm’s length above Thomasin’s head.
But they were on a landing of sorts. There was a wooden staircase in front of them that spiraled down into what appeared to be an endless abyss.
At least as far as Thomasin could tell as she peered over the precarious railing that was nothing more than the thinnest stick of half-rotted wood.
She swallowed thickly and backed away from the drop-off.
When Edith casually joined her, bumping into Thomasin’s shoulder on her way to the ledge, Thomasin swore the ground rocked beneath her feet.
Her heart swooped into her stomach as she stumbled backward, wanting as much solid ground as possible between her and the abyss.
Edith, who was leaning over the railing, hadn’t seemed to notice Thomasin’s uncharacteristic gracelessness.
“Edith,” Thomasin hissed. She was putting far too much faith in that railing.
Thomasin dared a step forward, just far enough that her fingertips could grab the loose fabric of Edith’s shirt.
“Edith,” she said again, pulling her backward.
Edith looked back at her with a curious expression. A smile pulled at her lips when she saw Thomasin half crouched, lunging toward her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, ignoring the tugging on her shirt.
“Get away from the ledge!”
Edith did not back away from the ledge. Instead, she turned to face Thomasin fully and planted her hands on her hips. With a raised brow and thinly concealed smile she said, “Thomasin Shaw, are you afraid of heights?”
Thomasin considered putting on a mask of bravado.
She could plaster on a smile and swagger toward Edith, but she forced herself to remember that she didn’t need to be invulnerable anymore.
“I—uh, it appears I might be,” she said, meeting Edith’s gaze.
At the panicked, somewhat sheepish expression on Thomasin’s face, the mischievous glint in Edith’s eyes disappeared.
“Oh my goodness, okay,” Edith said as she mercifully moved toward Thomasin and away from the ledge. Now that Edith wasn’t in imminent danger, Thomasin let her fingers unclasp and her arm drop back to her side. She slumped against the far wall, letting her head fall back against the stone.
Edith tucked a curl behind Thomasin’s ear and said, “Hey, it’s okay. We can get through this.”
“I’m sorry,” Thomasin muttered, closing her eyes and exhaling roughly.
“No, I’m sorry,” Edith said softly. “I never would have teased you if I knew you were properly scared.”
Thomasin took Edith’s hands, pressed a hard kiss to her knuckles. “Not your fault.” She laughed wryly at herself. “I didn’t even know I was scared of heights.”
“What about when you climbed up to the fake Round Table? You didn’t seem bothered then.”
Thomasin scoffed. “That was like ten feet! Lord knows how deep that fucking pit goes!” She gestured wildly in the direction of it.
“Maybe it’s just dark.” Edith ducked her head to catch Thomasin’s eye.
“Maybe it really is only ten feet deep.” Thomasin gave her a skeptical look, but she continued.
“You’re right, that’s probably not true.
But it doesn’t matter. You just have to believe it enough to get yourself down those steps. ”
“Are you telling me to use my imagination?”
Edith made a face that was half smile, half grimace, her nose scrunching up. “It’s always worked for me.”
Thomasin looked over Edith’s shoulder to where the steps awaited them.
Edith had overcome her fears time and time again during the course of the quest. Thomasin wasn’t going to let her own fear be the thing that stopped them.
She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, then took Edith’s face in her hands and said, “A regular staircase in a regular room. No pit of death below.”
“Exactly.” Edith smiled. “Just don’t look down.”
Thomasin slammed her lips against Edith’s in a bruising kiss. When she pulled away, she said with what was supposed to be a joking, breezy tone, but which actually came out desperate and a little whiny, “You’re gonna need to hold my hand.”
Edith did just that, then led her to where the first step met the solid cave ground.
The wooden steps were at best rickety and at worst a death trap.
There was just enough room for Edith and Thomasin to stand shoulder to shoulder on each one.
Thomasin pressed her palm against the rough rocks, digging her fingers into imaginary holds that she knew would do nothing to save her if she slipped.
Her other hand was clasped around Edith’s in a crushing grip.
Edith didn’t complain, though. She just smiled up at Thomasin and said, “I’ll stay on the outside, that way you’re between me and the wall.
You can forget whatever horrors might exist beyond me. ”
Thomasin appreciated the sentiment, but she gave a rough shake of her head and gently pulled at Edith’s hand, motioning for her to step in front. “I don’t want you near the edge,” Thomasin said.
Edith obeyed, moving in front of Thomasin, but she paused before taking her first step onto the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at Thomasin and said, “You’re very sweet. I don’t know how you hid it for so long.”
Thomasin rolled her eyes, but on the inside, she preened at the compliment.
Until Edith stepped onto the ancient wooden slat, and then all she felt was panic.
Edith, too, must have been more nervous than she had let on, because her shoulders visibly drooped in relief when it became clear that the step was indeed structurally sound enough to hold her weight.
Before Thomasin was ready, Edith was on the second step, their arms pulled taut so that their hands were still clasped, and it was Thomasin’s turn to venture downward.
It took every ounce of will she possessed to lift one foot in front of the other.
Her eyes were glued to the floor as she gently placed her foot on the first step.
It creaked ominously underneath her boot.
“Remember what you told me,” Edith said, not daring to look away from where her own feet precariously stood. “Fear is the thing that kills you. You can’t let your mind go down that path.”
Thomasin clung to the wall as they continued their descent. With every step, every brush of open air on the soles of her boots, her heart seized. “I didn’t say that second part,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s far too poetic.”
“Yes, well, I extrapolated from your original quote, but the sentiment is the same.”
“You’re too smart for me,” Thomasin said.
“You’re too cool for me.”
That drew a small snort from Thomasin, but any conversation lapsed into a tense silence when the steps narrowed as they turned a corner, spiraling down along the wall of the cave.
The farther they got, the more unsteady each slat felt, and the height between each one was never the same.
Sometimes it was hardly more than a step, but other times there was enough of a drop to make Thomasin queasy.
Long after any sight of the landing had disappeared, the flickering of torchlight below joined the meager glow that Edith’s torch cast. Thomasin’s limbs were shaky and exhausted by the time they made it to the end of the stairs.
When she reached the final step, she practically collapsed onto the solid ground.
“You did it!” Edith threw her arms around Thomasin. Breathing in the scent of her, sweat and vanilla, honey and dirt, Thomasin felt her body relax. She let her cheek rest atop Edith’s head. When she opened her eyes, she froze.
They were in a rectangular room, no different from any normal cave. Except the chamber was dominated by a large stone sarcophagus at its center. Despite its size, the exterior of it was plain, unassuming. There were no carvings or decorations. Just smooth rock.
But the room was not without splendor. At the head of the sarcophagus was a marble statue.
It was of a cloaked man, standing proud upon a pedestal.
He was at least six feet tall, and his face was carved with striking angles that gave him a gaunt, hollow appearance.
A beard trailed down to his slender chest. Even in marble, the eyes were piercing.
Maybe it was just the unforgiving slant of his brow, but Thomasin felt like his eyes were following her, assessing her.
One of his arms reached toward the sky, his hand palm-up as if he were calling down the sun. The other stretched out before him, hand held in an open fist. Directly beneath the open circle made by his fingers was a circular divot in the pedestal.
The wall behind the statue was covered in a mural that stretched from floor to ceiling.
The colors of it, though faded with time, were striking.
There were ruby-red dragons that danced with ones white as bone.
Forests of the deepest green, a pitch-black cauldron on a roaring orange fire. A silver moon and a golden sun.
Though the sarcophagus was unadorned, the statue and the mural left little doubt in Thomasin’s mind.
They had found Merlin’s tomb.