Chapter 22
22
ROOK
I t took Rook just two days to reach Terradrin’s eastern coastline.
After the first day of continuous flying, Rook’s shoulders and limbs had gone numb. It was almost a mercy that he’d stopped feeling his wings beat. Each ragged breath burned like fire in his lungs, but at least his shoulders weren’t screaming at him. Eventually, the physical pain building up behind the wall of numbness would burst like a flood, but for now, he would take advantage of his dulled senses and fly as far as he could.
As he soared across the southern plains of Terradrin, the frigid wind of the north was replaced by incessant seasonal rain that soaked him to the bone. Though stinging rain blistered his cheeks and drenched his heavy wings like a sodden cloak, Rook was thankful for the thick curtain that fell over the land, shrouding him from watchful eyes and soothing the ache in his throat. He flew much higher in the swirling storm than was safe, ensconced in a veil of dark clouds and sputtering lightning. Even with bursts of crackling bolts shuddering through the dense clouds, Rook felt a measure of safety within the eye of the storm. Not even the boldest Aerial spy would be foolish enough to fly in such dangerous conditions.
Yet even as the storm diminished his vision of the land below, Rook had expected to see flocks of soldiers and military encampments as Terradrin’s armies mobilized at the behest of his sister. But instead of military tents or throngs of armies marching north, he saw nothing. Something about the quiet, barren landscape felt off. Raven had made it seem like she was amassing a force of Auran and Terradrin soldiers, forming an army the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the War of the Age. Perhaps they’d already gathered at the roots of the mountain range, collecting near the trade city of Meysam after the uprising. Or maybe the storm was simply hiding more of his view than he initially thought. Either way, he didn’t have much energy to ponder the strangeness of it as he focused on staying conscious.
Though his body was numb and his wings kept him aloft with little difficulty, Rook’s mind felt as cloudy as the tumultuous sky. It was as though the putrid blood of his festering wound had flowed into his bloodstream and seeped into the corners of his brain. His body was getting worse as the wound refused to heal. Behind his eyelids, he kept seeing fragments of his previous dreams: the blood on the corner of his mother’s mouth as she burst into the carriage, the mysterious eyes of the prisoner locked away within the bowels of a cave, the broken bodies of soldiers piled around Cira thousands of years ago. Were they all connected, or were they just a string of incoherent nightmares? He prayed this mysterious Forge in the Northern Wastes might provide him with some answers.
As the coast of Terradrin came into view, Rook drifted over the eastern gates of the Under Kingdom. There were only three entrances to the subterranean city: one to the north, one to the west, and one to the east. Each set of obsidian gates was built into the rugged earth, opening up like scars in the ground. Every entrance was fortified by a slew of well-trained underguards loyal only to King Grivur and to the bearer of the Crown of Revelore. Saoirse and her company were supposed to meet a group of underguards secretly working with the resistance. If he remembered correctly, Neia had arranged for them to meet in one of the unmapped sea caves that tunneled into the coastal cliffs of Terradrin’s eastern border.
Rook flew past the coastline and out over the open ocean. The salt-laced wind mingled with the stinging rain as he surveyed the choppy waves thrashing along the cliffs. Patches of jagged rock drifted in and out of the white-foamed surf and columned sea stacks jutted from the waters like towers. As Rook hovered above the ocean, he blinked through the heavy sheets of rain and strained to see any evidence of the Tellusun merchant ship bobbing on the fit of waves. There .
Through the cloak of rain, Rook found the ship anchored behind a hefty wall of eroded rock. His stomach dropped at the sight. Saoirse’s ship had never set sail for Raj’s Point then. He had hoped they were delayed somewhere in the sea, halfway up the Terradrin coast. The ship’s presence here meant something had gone wrong. He scanned the rain-drenched deck, finding it empty. In a storm like this, the ship hands were likely below decks, he reasoned.
Or , a voice in his head said, it could be a trap .
Rook spiraled down to the wall of rock and landed with a dull thud. His boots nearly slipped out from under him as he settled his full weight against the smooth algae-coated rockface. He carefully bent over the ledge and eyed the vacant decks below. The ship’s lateen sails were tied to prevent the strong winds from straining against the two masts. At first glance, it appeared the sails had been tied for several days now. It could very well be a trap. Perhaps the crew had been captured and their ship lashed beside the rock as bait. Rook swiped a hand over his face and debated what he should do. If the ship was positioned here as bait, where was the crew? Where were Saoirse and Hasana?
Aurelia’s voice whispered in his ear: you must promise to fly back the moment you sense danger.
Warning bells chimed in his head, but it was too soon to turn back now. He decided to investigate a bit further before returning to Aurelia. He needed to get a sense of what kind of danger they should prepare for.
Rook inhaled the brackish wind and felt the rain soak down to his feverish skin. He steadied himself on the rock and closed his eyes. Now that he wasn’t flying, weariness settled deep in his bones, making his limbs go limp with fatigue. The thin coating of Joya’s golden root salve had long since dissolved in the sluicing rain, leaving his scabbed-over wound throbbing with pain. The adrenaline that had kept him pushing forward for the last two days ebbed like the tide going out. It would be so nice to rest for a moment. To lay his head against the algae-soft ledge and let the song of the ocean lull him to sleep.
No. Don’t give up.
Saoirse and Hasana might need his help. He had to push through. Rook opened his eyes again, droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes. He looked back down at the swaying ship and made a decision that would probably end in his corpse being tossed over the side of the ship’s railing.
He leaped off the ledge and dove for the ship, letting his wings catch the wind just before his boots hit the slick deck. He braced himself for a swarm of soldiers to come rushing at him. But nothing happened as he circled the empty deck, his footsteps chased away by the wind. He ducked under swaying riggings and loose ropes caught in the storm. There were no discarded swords, overturned buckets, hastily abandoned weapons, or anything else to indicate the crew had been suddenly captured. The ship’s railing did look a little worse for wear, though. Rook strode over to a splintered section of the taffrail and examined the jagged wood. His eyes traced down the broken railing, finding deep grooves torn through the wooden planks of the deck. The gash marks were dragged in the direction beyond the boat. How strange.
“Who goes there?” A voice barked.
Damn it .
Rook raised his hands in surrender and slowly turned around, keenly aware of his vulnerability.
“Prince Rook?” a female voice asked.
Rook found Adresin Vasalor pointing a rain-slicked blade at his chest. His shoulder-length white hair was flattened against his skull, rivulets of water pouring down sharp cheekbones. To his right, Noora Mir was lowering her bow and arrow. Her signature braid fell down one shoulder and loose tendrils of dark hair swirled against her neck in the rain.
“Where is Saoirse?” Rook’s voice came out a little harsher than he’d intended. “Why didn’t you meet us at Raj’s Point?”
Adresin frowned, his bloodless lips thinning into a hard line. “I don’t know where Saoirse is. I’ve been waiting for them to return for five days. Their task should’ve only taken a day or two, three at most.”
A sinking feeling pooled in Rook’s stomach. Five days ? He should’ve flown here sooner.
“Who left with the heist party?”
“Saoirse, Hasana, Rymir, Tezrus, and Neia all left for the coastal cliffs together. They took a small boat and rowed to that cave. The last I saw of them, they were rowing into the grotto.” Adresin pointed to a distant opening in the cliffs choked with pounding surf. “Tezrus was confident he could find the Terradrin Relic in the Under Kingdom. If everything had gone to plan, it should’ve only taken them a few hours to travel from the coastal tunnel into the Under Kingdom. Something must be holding them up.”
Rook squeezed his fists together. A chill of panic trailed up his spine. “Why haven’t you gone looking for them? Why haven’t you taken a team to the cave?”
“Most of our best fighters are still recovering below decks,” Noora answered solemnly. “And the Under Kingdom is heavily guarded. I doubt I would be able to sneak in without catching the notice of Grivur’s underguards.”
“Recovering? From what?”
“We were attacked by a sea monster halfway across the Southern Sea. It was ancient, by the looks of it. Saoirse believed it was one of the beasts Selussa released from the Fretum.”
“Titans,” Rook cursed. His eyes found the splintered railing, taking in the gashes clawed into the deck. He’d seen what those beasts could do firsthand. The gore-splattered Merfolk with haunted eyes came to mind. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think Selussa’s creatures would find you. I hope the loss was not too great.” So much for their diversion plan.
“We lost several good warriors, but it could’ve been a lot worse. By all rights, we shouldn’t have even survived.”
“How did you survive?” Rook asked over the rain, eyeing the split wood and shattered taffrail. The claw marks looked enormous.
“It turns out that Saoirse has a sea monster of her own,” Noora replied. “Kaja, she calls the beast. Her sea dragon saved us at the last moment.”
Dragon ? Rook’s head was spinning. There were so many questions forming on his tongue. But there was no time to ask them. He needed to find Saoirse.
“Maybe the Relic was buried farther in the earth than Tezrus initially believed. Perhaps they’re simply delayed in their search.” Even as Rook uttered the words, he knew it was a hollow explanation at best. Tezrus was a stone-singer. He could hear the call of diamonds through miles of stone. If he focused hard enough, the scholar could no doubt locate the ancient shard of moonstone with his abilities. It shouldn’t have taken them five days to find it.
Rook ran a hand through his sopping-wet hair. His heart thundered in his ears. “I’ll go to the coastline, then. Maybe I’ll find a clue as to what happened to them in the cave.”
“We’ll go with you,” Adresin said. “If something happened to them, you cannot go alone.”
“I’ll scout out the cave first,” Rook hedged. “If I find anything that might indicate where they went, I’ll come back for you both. You should both stay with the ship until I find any leads.”
Adresin nodded, sliding his sword back into its scabbard. “Be careful.”
“Don’t get yourself killed, princeling,” Noora added. Concern blazed in her dark brown eyes.
“I’ll try not to.”
Rook’s muscles groaned as he launched himself from the ship and aimed for the sea cave. The brief pause in flying had caused his sore wings to tense up and every wingbeat felt like agony. But the panic that burned in his blood seared away the pain like a fire at his heels.
He located the sea cave Adresin had pointed to easily enough. The cave’s jagged mouth yawned open, eroded after years of pounding tides. The unruly surf battered against the rock made more restless in the storm. He dove for the opening, hovering just above the churning waters. His wings felt heavy in the rain, every rise and fall sending excruciating pain splintering down his spine. He pushed onward and slipped into the cave as a spray of salt water broke against the bedrock.
The cave gouged into the cliffside like a sore. Inside, it smelled of salt and rotted seaweed. A collection of fine sediment formed a beach-like embankment at the end of the cavern. The walls were coated in glowing moss that reflected off the slick stones. The tide washed into the tunnel, lapping hungrily up the embankment. It would be flooded soon. He had to move fast.
Rook landed on the soft mound of sediment, his boots sinking into the damp slope. Sea water surged up to his ankles as another wave lapped up the bank. He drew his sword and inspected the weather-beaten walls. He wished he had a torch to illuminate the shadowed grotto. At least it was semi-dry, giving him a much-needed reprieve from the pounding rain outside. He prowled the perimeter of the cave and searched for any offshooting tunnels. But he found nothing, the walls bare of any cracks or crawlspaces to sneak into the Under Kingdom. He did, however, locate a small rowboat tucked into the corner of the cavern. A thick rope lashed the boat to a rock, preventing it from drifting out to sea when the tide swept in. Rook kneeled next to the boat. Perhaps Saoirse had left a clue as to where they’d gone.
Suddenly, a growling sound echoed through the chamber. A bolt of fear shot through his heart as the cave wall shuddered. Rook leaped over the side of the boat, taking shelter in the shadows just in time to see the solid rock wall buckle and shift like pliable clay. Rook ducked lower behind the boat, watching as a small cavity opened in the stone. He realized the growling he heard echoing off the walls was the rough friction of rock reforming itself into a new shape.
“?is growing restless,” came a voice. A pale-haired figure appeared in the opening, her hands outstretched to meet the undulating stone. She lowered her arms once the cave settled.
A stone-singer .
“We’ve got time,” answered another voice, this one from a male with moon-pale skin and an eye patch over one milky eye. “Grivur will wait as long as he needs to.”
The woman looked around the grotto, pale eyes roving over the encroaching tide that bubbled up the slope of sediment. Rook tried to make himself small as possible. The heartbeat pounding in his ears was so loud he swore she might be able to hear it. Though they didn’t carry any torches, the Terradrin guards’ eyes were well-adapted to see in the dark. It wouldn’t take more than a lingering glance at the shadows to find Rook crouched against the boat.
“Nothing,” the woman hissed, her bright eyes skipping right over the row boat. “How long is this going to take? I thought someone from Hasana’s little rebellion would come for them by now.”
Rook went cold. So they were being held captive then. He ground his teeth together, gripping the hilt of his sword even tighter. He had to do something.
“Maybe the rebels came to their senses,” said the man. “They realized it’s a lost cause, just like we did. No one will come for them. Grivur will have to be content to play his games with a limited number of tributes.”
Tributes? Rook didn’t know what they were talking about, but the mere word ‘tribute’ sent nausea roiling through him.
“He’ll still have his fun. Come on, let’s head back. We’ll check tomorrow, but I doubt anyone will come looking for them. It’s been days now.”
Rook fought to keep his ragged breathing in check as the stone-singer turned back toward the tunnel opening with a shrug. Aurelia’s voice rang through his ears: Vow to me that you will not try and save them on your own. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t try to be a hero.
As much as it pained him to leave, he needed to let Aurelia know that Saoirse and her companions had been captured. He couldn’t face this on his own. He was half-dead, fighting a cursed wound that wouldn’t heal, and completely exhausted after two days of non-stop flying. He would only get himself killed if he searched for them alone.
Rook held his crouched position as the pair of Terradrin underguards slipped back into the tunnel. The female stone-singer started to close the cavity, her pale fingers willing the stone into submission like a craftsperson shaping clay on a potter’s wheel. It began to seal itself up under her guidance.
Rook let out a shuddering breath and slumped against the wall.
He was abruptly transported to another world, the murky cave walls vanishing as he closed his eyes. Gone was the thick scent of salt in his nostrils. The howling winds outside transformed into another storm that took place a century ago:
Hundreds of candles flickered on the steps of the Auran Temple.
The sea of twinkling flames cast shadows that danced along the elegant marble columns. Outside, a fierce storm blew through the city of Coarinth. Deafening thunder rumbled through the dark sky as though Deinos himself clapped his palms together in the heavens. The circular pavilion was cloaked in shadow, momentarily lit by flashes of violent lightning every few minutes.
Standing like the clusters of candles on the steps, hooded figures in the center of the chamber swayed in time to an archaic chant. Their robes of deep purple pooled on the marble stone like crushed grapes. The chorus of voices chanted in a language long lost to time, echoing between the columns like dust off an ancient page. They conjured magic through their music. Songs could break curses, create new life, sentence someone to death, and bestow magic where there was none. Their lilting words spoke of release and of unbinding, a direct contrast to the song that once banished their goddess to the Underworld thousands of years ago.
The tallest of the hooded figures strode toward the center of the room, robes billowing behind him. He held a bronze decanter in his palms. Mythological creatures were etched into the vessel’s surface, including several humanoid figures that possessed tails like fish. Within the decanter was a concoction made of salt water collected from melted glaciers in the Northern Wastes, the scale of a siren ground to dust, and the acidic venom of a hydra. In lieu of having the blood of a god and the blood of a dying innocent once used to lock their goddess away, the purple-robed acolytes had to make their own potion using the resources they’d painstakingly collected over centuries.
The chorus of voices crescendoed when the male Elder tossed the brew onto the polished marble floor. The frothy dark liquid splattered against the pristine white stone and stained the robes of those standing nearby. A bolt of lightning lit up the pavilion, revealing faces bright with anticipation.
“Great One, hear our plea!” All the voices sang as one, mingling into a warbled melody. “With this song, we call you from the depths of your dark prison! Like the voices that once banished you from our world, let our song free you from your confinement once and for all! For centuries you have suffered, sentenced to a horrific fate by those you trusted the most! From the mouths of sirens you were cast out, but from the mouths of your servants shall you rise again!”
The frothing elixir began to bubble on the ground like a pot of water over open flames. As it began to sizzle, wisps of sulfuric steam floated up from the liquid puddle. Another crash of thunder made the floating pavilion shake like a heaving breath.
Emboldened, the hooded figures continued to chant: “So it was foretold, the Titans shall return to punish their creations and rid Revelore of their corruption! Great One, we call you now! You are the only one with the power to resurrect our makers! Guide us to victory! Reward our faithfulness! Remake the world!”
The spilled concoction now fully boiled on the marble floor. Large bubbles popped and hissed, sending sprays of acidic droplets scattering throughout the room. The liquid thickened and grew sticky, becoming a membranous texture. The group of Elders halted their chanting and waited with bated breath as the potion warped and buckled. The floor rippled like water.
They all gasped when a face pressed upward from the other side. Like a curtain hanging between two rooms, someone pushed against the thin, sticky liquid. The veil between worlds was thinning. The suggestion of a nose and a mouth grew more defined as the figure on the other side continued clawing up through the floor. The figure’s mouth opened and shut as though they were screaming, their open jaw coated in the dark potion like a thin membrane. Suddenly, claws pierced through the membranous layer and a roaring voice ricocheted through the chamber.
Spindly hands splayed against the marble, capped with sharpened fingernails as black as onyx. A woman pulled herself up out of the floor with a groan. As she passed through the gaping hole and fell in a heap on the stones, the floor sealed itself back up behind her with a sickening squelch. She writhed on the floor for a moment, limbs spasming in the wet puddle like a fish out of water.
Then she stopped.
The woman was drenched in a thick liquid, her stringy black hair clumped down her spine. Eyes as black as a starless sky peered up at them. She grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. The same dark liquid that coated her bare skin leaked out from between her teeth like ink. Despite the grotesque nature of her appearance, the woman possessed an otherworldly beauty as she looked around the room, kohl-dark eyelashes feathering on her cheeks.
“Great One,” the tallest male Elder breathed in disbelief. “You came.”
“Thank you for summoning me.” Her poisonous voice moved like smoke. “You were persistent over these many years, and for that I thank you. For many centuries I raged within the dark abyss of my prison, knowing that one day I would be set free.”
One by one, the Elders fell to their knees as she spoke. Some even lost consciousness at the shock of her voice, their heads thudding against the marble-like fallen grapes from a vine. Many pushed back their hoods and stared with wide-eyed adoration as the woman rose from the liquid.
“How long has it been since my siblings’ souls were sealed in the Stone Circle and their bodies banished under the Mountain?”
“Thousands of years, Great One.”
Something like horror passed over the woman’s face. Fury quickly replaced her shock and she bared her pointed teeth. “This should never have happened,” she hissed. “We were so close to victory. But then I was betrayed. I should’ve been there to protect them. I should’ve stopped those conniving, ungrateful mortals. After everything we gave them…”
“But you’ve returned to us now,” came the male Elder’s voice. “You can right the wrongs of Revelore’s past. Tell us what must be done, Great One.”
The unearthly woman strode from the center of the temple, the crowd of Elders parting for her as she walked up the marble steps. Several Elders reverently touched the stringy liquid that trailed in her wake. The woman knocked over several candles in the process, giving no indication of pain as the flames licked at her bare feet then sputtered out. She ignored the crowd of awed acolytes as she came to stand next to one of the outer pillars, claw-like fingers tracing up the concave curves sculpted into the stone.
She looked down at the city below. Her black eyes narrowed as more bolts of lightning cleaved through the clouds and illuminated the rain-drenched decorations adorning the city. In the darkness, it was difficult to make out the snow-white banners of silk that hung on doorways and the pale petals that lay sodden in the street, tossed by onlookers as the royal family had led a ceremonial procession down the mountain earlier in the day. But with her otherworldly eyesight, the woman could easily surmise what had occurred hours before.
“Whose impending nuptials were honored today?” A sly smile crept across the woman’s face as she surveyed the cheerful decorations that were now soaked by the storm.
“The Auran Princess Yrsa departed for her upcoming wedding. She is to be wed to the Mer King Lorsan in a week. The parade was cut short by the storm.”
The woman’s smile unfurled into a full-blown grin. Her teeth glinted as another crack of lightning streaked through the sky. “How wonderful. I have always loved weddings. And I have missed the ocean more than anything. It is quite poignant that I shall return to the sea once again. Let’s give the happy couple a gift they won’t soon forget.”
“Then let us make haste, Queen Selussa Apate, Mother of Si ?”
A crack of thunder peeled through the air like a death knell, pulling Rook out of the unsettling dream and back to the present in a violent rush. Although Rook’s eyes were open, he still saw the darkened temple with its hundreds of flickering candles spread before him. He could see the dark stain of membranous fluid on the marble floor. He could smell the acrid scent of sulfur in the breeze. The wound on his abdomen pulsed with pain.
Gradually, reality returned to Rook. Unfocused cavern walls loomed around him. A blur of white filled his vision. He tried to wipe his eyes and blink away the haze, but he couldn’t move his hands. The smear of white sharpened into long hair and pale skin. The woman standing over him was not Selussa. Instead of ink-black eyes, two eyes the color of snow peered down at him.
The Terradrin woman had just finished putting iron cuffs around his wrists.
“I didn’t know the Auran prince was prone to fits of madness. He’ll fit right in with Grivur’s court.”