Chapter 64
Durvla
We sit on the side of the road and munch on underripe strawberries as Alys briefs us on entering the Verge.
She draws an image in the dirt with a stick, showing mountains and a forest, then she makes a line at the base of the mountain.
“This is the entrance. It’s heavily warded.
In fact, anyone entering without the proper knowledge of how will be torn apart by the wards. ”
I make a face. “As in literally torn apart?”
Alys glances up at me, sternness on her face.
“Yes.” She draws three Xs beneath the line, each a small distance apart.
“The runes have to be drawn here, here, and here, with the enchantments spoken at each. Very old magic. It’s all written down on a scroll in my pack—in case for some reason I’m unable to do it.
Once beyond the wards, there are guards trained to kill on sight.
Immediately take a knee and lower your gaze.
It’s a sign of reverence. It sounds complicated, but for good reason, of course. ”
“Of course,” Chiyo agrees.
A strange, metallic taste suddenly fills my mouth and colors dance before me. My limbs grow heavy, and I must make a sound or something because everyone turns to me.
“Durvla? Are you alright?” Osheen signs. My focus darts between his concerned face and then Kilkenny’s.
Still crouching, Kilkenny moves closer, his focus on me as he urgently calls to Alys. “She’s going to—”
Then the world around me whirls and morphs.
By the time the world stops warping, I find myself standing in dark tunnels again. I gag from the wringing in my gut and swallow hard. This time, I don’t try to run. I drop to my knees and press my hands against my ears to block out the screams.
Why is this happening? Why can’t I control it? I want to join in the screaming—out of frustration, out of helplessness. When I want to dreamwalk, I can’t? When I least expect it—
Pain lances through my leg, my arms, my face. Everything hurts, and soon I’m sobbing right along with a disembodied voice.
This is a dream, I remind myself. Not my dream but a dream, nonetheless.
I pull my hands from my ears and try to gauge my surroundings.
A candle flickers in the distance. That must be my exit.
I struggle to my feet, ignoring the aches, and hobble toward the candle.
“Carys!” I call, assuming this is her dreamscape. “If you can hear me, please answer.”
Nothing.
More howls of pain come from her, wherever she is. Moments like these make me grateful that I usually exist in silence. Carys’s screams hurt even worse than the phantom pain attacking my body. “Carys! Think of yourself somewhere else! Anywhere else. Far away from the pain. Carys?”
The screams stop, but I barely have a moment of relief before pressure builds in my head. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples. A breeze brushes my cheeks, and when I open my eyes, I’m on a boat. Carys stands at the bow, gazing out at the ocean.
“Carys!” I call.
She spins toward me, her hair billowing out behind her, distress on her face. “Durvla,” she says with breathless relief. “Thank the gods.” I step toward her, and she grasps my hand.
I give her a quick once-over. “What is going on?”
“Ellynne and Callum are dead. Lowri is a Skinchanger; she’s also Eefa. I’ve been captured. I’m somewhere under the castle, I believe. They’re torturing me, Durvla. Iywan, Eefa, and bloody Briony.” She chokes back sobs, irrational laughter cutting through with a harsh sound that makes me wince.
I’m lost for words, unsure what comfort I can offer. “Did anyone tell you why?”
“The book of Folklore and Fairytales that I own, it’s in the Ancient Tongue.
The passage that mentioned Lightweavers mentions the Heirs of Dusk and Embers and something about the solace of dusk.
Iywan and the others … they want me to summon Enidwen and …
absorb her powers? Like she tried to do with the Underling Prince. ”
“What?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head.
She wipes tears off her cheeks. “Yes, exactly.”
“But Enidwen failed and then the Heirs of—”
The entire dreamscape shudders and I shut my eyes to ward off the dizziness. “I think we’re running out of time,” Carys shouts.
I open my eyes as the world settles again, but things are a little blurry.
“Durvla, this is important. The Book of Agryna seems to have a companion tome called The Song of Moonlight. I don’t know where it can be found. It’s not in our library at the palace, but there’s an important passage regarding Enidwen there, and an addendum to the prophecy.”
Her words start to sound distant. It’s reminiscent of when my hearing first started to wane. I focus on Carys’s lips, but the entire image blurs. “Is there more?” I ask.
“Yes, when Iywan captured me, he told me …” She pauses to find her words. “Welcome to the Zenith.”
I barely make out the word. “Zenith?”
“Yes!” She’s shouting now as wind whips around us, drowning out most of her words, contorting my surroundings. “Durvla, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I feel so alone.”
The statement resonates so deeply with me that it aches. “Don’t give up. We’ll figure something out. You’re not alone.”
More wind whips around us, and the ship floor begins to shift. I try to remain upright, to grasp for Carys, but as I reach out, I meet nothing but air. I collapse, and before I land, I awake with a gasp again—
The bright sun hurts. I squint and vaguely make out Alys’s full-figured silhouette. “Hello again, sweetling,” she says.
I sit up and look around wildly. I don’t have time to ground myself right now. I need to tell them everything that Carys told me. “Carys is being tortured,” I blurt out.
The color drains from everyone’s face. Alys’s hand clutches her chest, and she turns away for a while, blinking back tears.
Tiernan clenches his jaw and runs a shaky hand through his hair.
I spew out what I can remember, including Callum and Ellynne’s deaths, the Zenith, Lowri the Skinchanger, the missing prophecy about Enidwen and The Song of Moonlight, Iywan wanting Carys to summon Enidwen, the solace of dusk …
All the while, my chest grows tighter and tighter with each word. I don’t even know if anything I say is coherent at this point, but there are so many names and titles and terminology that signing and fingerspelling would take forever or be incomprehensible.
“I need to take a walk,” I say. I don’t wait for anyone to reply, even as I catch the tears glistening on Alys’s face.
I clamber to my feet and rush down the grassy path we’d just come from.
My eyes sting and my chest aches, but I hold back the tears.
I try to focus on the road ahead, despite walking in the wrong direction.
I just need to put space between myself and everyone else. I need to get rid of this uneasiness.
How can we help Carys? By now, we’re nearly at the northern tip of Erleya. We’re so close to the Verge that I can taste freedom. Yet Carys is being tortured.
Guilt wraps around my heart and squeezes until I’m breathless. I stop walking and place my hands on my head.
Grass. Trees. Sky. Breeze against my skin … fear, hopelessness, anxiety. My body trembles and I turn my face to the sky and close my eyes.
Just as I’m about to lose it completely, cold water drips onto my face and I gasp. I open my eyes as rain pours down.
It’s like the sky has opened. I rush back to the group. Kilkenny is readying Ghendor, and by the time I get to him, he helps me mount the stallion without even trying to get me to talk.
Before long, we’re racing through the rain, the horses kicking up grass and mud. For once, I couldn’t be more grateful for the cold that drenches my clothes and shocks my body out of a spiral.