19. NEVESHIR
Were we breaking some kind of rule? Was it taboo to meet with a wardeness?
That’s what Silas made it sound like.
Several hours had passed since our conversation, and I spent the last of it informing Niall that we might not exactly receive a warm welcome from Nivelle.
And on top of that, our power wouldn’t be of any use once we went ashore.
By the time he was done grumbling about Silas and his “lack of communication,” the sky was growing dark, but not just because of the sinking sun.
The clouds had thickened, the winds were gathering strength, and the waves were beginning to rage.
We were approaching Neveshir’s storms.
As Roirdan crossed the deck to us, a wave bashed into the side of the ship, the top portion cresting the waist rail and soaking him.
He shook the dripping strands of hair from his face as he neared.
“You could have at least put the shields up before I got drenched,” he said, flinging a wet hand at Niall.
Niall eyed the water droplets that landed on the lapels of his tightly-fitted black jacket. “If I had known you’d complain this much, I would have brought Aremis instead.”
I let out a laugh while Niall snapped his fingers.
A shimmering shield slid into place around the ship, and the next onslaught of waves crashed into the invisible barrier, washing around it as though the vessel were nothing but a deeply rooted stone in a riverbed.
Ominous clouds continued rolling overhead, casting shadows over the thrashing turquoise waters, but we sailed onward through the thick of it. Rain fell in heavy sheets, driven by the forceful wind and pelting against the shield.
Silas emerged from the cabin behind us and strode up to my side as thunder rolled across the waters.
Niall leaned against the railing and nudged his chin toward the coastline. “Want to direct us to the nearest point of entry?”
Lightning flashed, illuminating a handful of stone structures jutting out of the water between us and the distant shore. “See those large columns?” Silas pointed. “Go in between them.”
The ship made a slight adjustment to its course on Niall’s silent command.
As we drew closer, the pillars became more pronounced.
Each basalt stone structure had been naturally formed into square sections that were stacked atop each other, stretching from the watery depths like rough-hewn fingers trying to escape the stormy seas.
We passed through them—three on our left and two on our right—and the largest of The Neveshir Isles came into view.
There were no beaches or sandy alcoves, only more of the same dark gray pillars that formed the sheer cliffs lining the entire coastline, towering high above the waves.
Moments later, the rain eased to a spitting mist, and the waves lulled.
“The columns are a portal of sorts. If you don’t sail through them, the storm still rages, and there’s no access to the grotto,” Silas explained.
“What grotto?” I asked.
“There.” He pointed to a mighty waterfall cascading down the cliff face and pounding into the seas below. “Behind the waterfall is where we will dock.”
I looked at Niall, but his face remained solemn as he stared ahead.
“We’re going through that?” I said.
The corner of Silas’s mouth twitched up. “It’s spelled, don’t worry.”
Spelled. Right.
I trusted Silas, even if Niall and Roirdan didn’t yet. So, I set the example and nodded, not deigning to question him further.
I could feel the power of the falls as we approached, the water churning and surging like a heartbeat beneath us.
My body tensed, and I winced out of instinct as we passed under it.
But Silas’s words held true. What was a powerful, mighty work of nature from afar became as gentle as a trickling stream the moment we moved through it.
The ship’s shield deflected every ounce of water like it was mere dew on a slippery leaf.
Once we were on the other side, I sucked in a breath.
The grotto was a gaping subterranean cavern big enough to fit several ships on its shore.
More basalt columns stretched from floor to ceiling, holding up a roof of what looked like pitted volcanic stone.
The space was dimly lit, thanks to the cloud cover on the other side of the waterfall, but I could make out a large opening, cut from the stone, straight ahead. A wide set of stairs lay within.
The ship’s shield retracted, and the scent of the briny sea and the damp cave stones filled my nose as we came to a halt on the gravelly shore.
Orbs drifted out from the ship’s cabin to cast light above the vessel, allowing the few deckhands that Niall had brought with us to secure the ropes to the nearest stone columns.
The males all stared upward as they worked, eyeing the ceiling, like they half expected something to emerge from the shadows and snatch them from the deck.
We disembarked, and Silas led us toward the stairs. The steps were wide enough that the four of us could have ascended them side by side as one, but instead, Niall followed Silas, with me behind him, and Roirdan bringing up the rear.
Lanterns of ethereal, pale blue light lit our way as we climbed.
The walls, like the stone steps, were wet from sea spray, and slightly slickened.
I was thankful that I’d worn the newest pair of boots that had appeared in my wardrobe as of this morning—courtesy of Niall.
I could practically feel the basalt cutting into the leather soles with each push upward.
No one said a word until several dozens of steps were behind us. And of course, it was Roirdan who voiced his concern. “Just how many stairs are we going to climb?”
“It’s not much further,” Silas answered.
Something skittered behind us, sending pebbles scattering in its wake. Roirdan whirled, sword drawn. I spun too, hand at my waist, grasping my sword’s hilt at the same time that Niall’s shield pulsed outward.
There was nothing.
“It’s all right,” Silas assured us as he kept climbing. “It’s just a wight. They’re spirits of the land. The same as the ones in Anbrya.”
Niall retracted his shield. “The same spirits that the fae seek to banish every year at Lumeri?”
“I believe so. Some are good, some are evil. For one reason or another they’ve become locked to the land upon their death. The witches have embraced them and given them the ability to take on incorporeal forms.”
“What form do they take?” I asked warily.
“They appear as small cats.”
Roirdan stumbled on a step. “They don’t have . . . poison . . . do they?”
This time, Silas glanced over his shoulder as he answered, “No. They’re not those kinds of cats.”
Roirdan quickly cleared his throat and said, “Good,” as he sheathed his sword. I could have sworn his voice deepened upon the reply.
I bit back a grin.
“The spirits cannot fill a truly physical form, since they’re not actually alive,” Silas added. “But they can take physical action. Don’t ask me how that’s even possible.”
“Well that’s reassuring,” Roirdan grumbled.
A few minutes later, the ground leveled out, and we emerged into a dark corridor with what looked to be an arched opening at the other end.
As we approached, and the arch came into focus, I noted its familiarity.
It was similar to the one we entered Vahrenhall through each time we ported to the highlands.
I peered into the void beyond the threshold. The space was murky, like churning, muddy water.
“This is the Akksi,” Silas said. “It’s a gateway.”
I could feel the power it was laced with. Something ancient and strong. For a moment, I had the fleeting thought that it felt similar to Niall’s power. Not the ability itself, but the force behind it—where it stemmed from.
Of the four of us, it was Roirdan who stepped closer until he was nearly touching the structure. The arch pulsed faintly with pale blue light, and symbols like those I had seen in Vahrenhall became illuminated around the edges, forming an inscription.
“I’ve seen these markings,” Roirdan mused.
“The Old Language of Vahrenhall?” Niall asked.
“Yes.” Roirdan nodded, tilting his head to decipher the message.
I looked closer. The carvings were similar, if not the same as the ones on the Seidr as well.
Silas pressed a hand to the stone just as Roirdan translated the words, “‘Not everything is what it seems.’”
The archway flared with light, and the muddy mass within began to clear away, peeling back toward the edges to reveal the world beyond.
Silas stepped forward, and we followed. “Welcome to Neveshir,” he said.
The stone beneath our feet turned into softened dirt, lined with creeping vegetation.
There was no paved walkway, only the dirt path that wound through an eerie, yet enchanting forest. Every tree was spindly and twisted.
Gnarled branches grew entwined over hollowed-out pathways, their bark covered in thick moss and lichen from the constant dampness.
Despite the gloom and the darkening sky, the green of the vegetation was vibrant.
A patchy haze lingered between the distant trees, like dozens of curious phantoms were huddled together, watching us, keeping their distance as we wound our way through their domain.
“This area is home to the majority of the witches on the isles. Wardenesses usually live alone so that they can receive orders and communicate with Torin without any distractions,” Silas explained.
A stream came into view on our left, winding through the bent trees. The water had an enchanting glow that reminded me of the Spring of Sephta at the bottom of Elandrew’s library, swirling and glistening like it was laced with stardust.
Silas slowed his stride, speaking over his shoulder to us. “Fair warning, Nivelle likes her space and prefers to not be bombarded with questions.”
“Reasonable enough,” I said.
“And you should know that her magic is very powerful, and she’s definitely not afraid to use it.”
Roirdan huffed a laugh. “She sounds intriguing.”
Niall remained silent.