Chapter 7
Wet Like A Pet
Dreams of Goldmoor had haunted Eiko ever since her grandmother told her about the capital when she was eight years old.
Her grandmother’s soot-stained, crooked finger had traced the small tapestry that hung on the wall of their pokey little sitting room, as her gentle, husky voice detailed the incredible, miraculous city. It had put young Eiko into a trance.
She remembered her grandmother tapping on the orange threads weaving through the Bay of Fire while describing the Goldmoor sunsets—sunsets the old woman had never seen, and would never see.
Eiko remembered the glinting, sparkling threads of gold that gilded each little house stacked into the woven city, her grandmother sounding so wistful as she described the metal plates hammered onto the buildings to reflect the blessed sunlight in all directions.
She remembered tugging on her grandmother’s sleeve when the older woman attempted to school her on the three bridges arcing over the Bay of Fire to reach the island city, and how each gate was a separate trade port.
Eiko hadn’t wanted to hear about bridges; she had only wanted to know more about the ghost of Goldmoor.
The monster was rumoured to emerge from the deep sea every night to hammer dark fists against the shining metal gates. If he ever gained access, he would roam the streets and feast freely, consuming anyone and anything in his path.
She thought about that tapestry as the sun finally began to rise again.
As they crossed one of those three bridges to Goldmoor.
She could hear the water of the bay lapping up the early blessing of light, and the birds that cawed and squawked happily, soaring through the whipping salty breeze.
She was exhausted and had almost stumbled into a faint more than once, but there was still enough awareness left in her body for awe to grip her creaking bones.
Carts, mules, and horses were trotting past her, along with a steam contraption that had her jolting in surprise.
“It’s a transport,” Kaito muttered lowly, gripping her a little tighter where her arm linked through his. “Like a train, but much smaller. It’s running slowly on tracks—looks like it goes into the city, and people can jump on or off as they like.”
“Maybe we can—” Rion croaked, but Maelon interrupted.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you. The commander’s instructions were clear.”
“To you, maybe,” Eiko grumbled.
“He said that anyone who makes it back to the barracks on foot will be allowed entry.”
“And the people who don’t?”
It took Maelon a moment to answer. “Listen, I’m not going to waste my time teaching you stoneborn all about the blasted outside world, but you should know this much. From the moment you boarded the Kingsweep, you had only two pathways available to you: success or failure.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
“With the Godsguard, you have the same two pathways. Success means you move forward: you gain your name, your uniform, prestige and honour, and an important, valuable place in the golden capital. Failure means death. There aren’t any other options.
We aren’t just humans anymore. We’re taking a little piece of the dark into the great city of light in order to keep it great and light, and the only way we’re allowed that privilege is with the Godsguard.
Without the banner and the uniform, we’re as good as monsters, and what do we do with monsters?
” He waited, like he was one of the schoolhouse teachers, and he expected his rapt class to recite the answer as one.
After a moment, he sighed and said, “We Silence them.”
Well, okay then. What a drama queen.
They walked on, keeping to themselves as the passing cityfolk all whispered about them.
The citizens of Goldmoor seemed to know they were the new Godsguard recruits, likely because the “section leaders,” as Vana had called them, were boxing in their short procession.
Comments about how none of the Goldmoor soldiers had survived Blackreach began to whip around them, as well as several loud exclamations over there being three women among the recruits. Apparently, that was a big deal.
In Stonesigh, women could be miners or soldiers just as easily as men could, so the reaction made no sense to Eiko, but then again …
Agreeing to harbour a dangerous monster beneath one’s skin instead of refusing and escaping the Quiet without a parasite was … stupid.
And men were stupid.
So actually, it made plenty of sense.
“That one is blind!” someone shouted as they climbed to a higher section of the city, Eiko’s cane tapping against each step. She didn’t bother reacting to any of the onlookers. Even Vana was too exhausted to talk to her imaginary friends and had joined them in tacit depletion.
The walk to Goldmoor had been mostly flat, but it seemed the island city spiralled across many different levels, leaving them to climb countless, exhausting stone and cobbled staircases.
The streets were crowded with the constant hum of voices, though there was never a body that brushed past her, so she assumed the citizens were giving them a wide berth.
She could smell the sharp tang of metal and feel the increased heat of those plated buildings her grandmother had told her about, and soon, her curiosity managed to climb even higher than her exhaustion.
“Are the houses really gold?” she whispered to Kaito. The section leaders were keeping them tightly herded, barking at anyone who slowed, and she didn’t want to be overheard.
“The ones in the lower city were bronze,” he huffed back, voice cracking. “Then they were silver around the middle rings of the city. Now that we’re getting close to the top, they’re turning gold.”
“Wow,” she expelled, before tripping over one of the stairs.
Kaito was too slow to catch her.
“Light protect us.” It was that honeyed Goldmoor woman again.
The one who had been alarmed at Chasin grabbing Eiko’s neck like a hulking, silent barbarian.
“How you lasted this long is beyond me,” the woman continued, strong but slender fingers wrapping Eiko’s bicep and hauling her—a little too easily—back to her feet. “Get moving, recruit.”
Eiko hurried forward, clutching Kaito and focusing on the sound of her cane, on Kaito’s grip of her wrist, on Hymn’s tiny presence in her chest.
By the time the stone beneath their feet became smooth and even, the stairs finally stopped.
Massive gates creaked open, and they were led through.
And then another set of gates. And another.
They passed over yards that felt immaculately maintained, through sweet-smelling gardens and courtyards tinkling with low laughter and happily trickling water.
“We’re in the castle grounds,” Kaito told her, his head ducking to her ear. “It’s …” Words seemed to fail him.
She patted his arm, letting him know it was okay. He was too tired to narrate the world for her.
It’s so gold, Hymn yawned inside her head. Gold everywhere. Such a happy place.
The little monster felt just as exhausted as she did, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they now shared the same reserve of energy.
Approaching the Godsguard barracks now, Hymn eventually told her. It’s within the castle grounds, but as far from the rest of the buildings as possible. It’s the easternmost point of the island.
She felt the air change as they passed through another gate and into a stone space large enough to produce echoes from their shuffling footsteps. It was cooler, somehow, the air a little thicker, like it didn’t entirely want to admit them. They all hesitated, shuffling their feet nervously.
“Recruits,” a clipped male voice snapped. “Inside. Move.”
They obeyed sluggishly, their legs threatening to buckle, and filed inside a stone building that felt stark and vast, each step bouncing from one wall to another.
Eiko’s nose wrinkled at the faint scent of oil and steel.
The temperature was even colder inside, and she rubbed at her exposed forearms. There was something slightly off about the place.
It didn’t have the heavy, oppressive feeling of the Quiet, but if she had stumbled into this building without knowing what it was, without a reason to be there, she would have instinctively turned tail and run.
They were led through a short maze of staircases and corridors that Eiko tried to map out in her mind, and then they stopped inside a room two levels below where they had entered.
It felt more like a prison, complete with a damp, sweaty smell.
“Find an empty cot,” one of the section leaders ordered. “You have four hours.”
Ren made a strangled sound of disbelief that Eiko felt all the way to her bleeding feet. “Four?”
“Four,” the soldier repeated flatly. “Be grateful.”
Rion collapsed onto the nearest squeaky, thin-sounding mattress, her low oof making Eiko glance her way in concern.
Ky face-planted next, also making a mattress-muffled, grunted sound of pain.
Kaito led Eiko to a bed before claiming one of his own.
She lowered to the cot as squeaks and creaks and groans floated about the room, letting her destroyed slippers dangle off the edge.
The thin mattress felt like a cloud. A very lumpy, disappointing cloud, but she would have wept with gratitude over it if she hadn’t already sweated out all the moisture from her skin.
Hymn’s ribbon-like body flicked back and forth against her wrist, almost like a tail wagging, his exhale small and relieved.
A new set of footsteps entered. Measured, authoritative, and whisper-quiet. The room stilled.
Chasin.
Chasin, Hymn agreed, that high-pitched squeal threatening to break free again.
The air tightened, cold and reverent, eleven bodies barely daring to breathe.
He’s signing with his hands again, Hymn told her. I don’t know the language.
One of the section leaders began to translate Chasin’s silent words, voice steady but loud enough to carry: