Chapter Thirty
Adrian
“I do not hate the upper ringers born into their luxury. I do not hate the Deckers born into their poverty. I hate the gods who left us here and created our separation and I will not apologize for that.”
I'd thought the desert would never end. After over two weeks of walking through the endless heat, nothing on the horizon but sand, it was easy to believe that’s all there was. But then we finally crested a particularly large rocky dune and found ourselves looking down upon a new form of wilderness.
Tall trees stood like sentinels around a muddy riverbed, sparse vegetation littered a landscape of dirt and moss, and large, lithe animals with soft tawny fur stood drinking gracefully from the water. Beside me, Zya gasped. I echoed the sentiment.
“What is this place?” Hugh whispered in awe at our side.
“Welcome,” one of the leaders announced loudly, stepping forward with a grin, “to Archí.”
“This is the Fallen’s fabled city?” Darius asked from my other side, his tone obviously unimpressed. “All I see are trees and rocks. This is what Prima of House Viper has managed to pull together after two millennia?”
“Move, Reed,” Gryfon growled from behind us, pushing Darius forward until we all began making our way down the hill.
“I’m sure it’s hidden,” Roxy was saying quietly, obviously seeking to ease the tension between her boyfriend and the grumpy warrior behind him. “It would need to be defensible, of course. Being out in the open and obvious wouldn’t do them any favors in an attack.”
I nodded in agreement even though I was hardly listening.
I could barely do more than stare up at the enormous, towering trees above me.
Actual trees. To me, such a thing had never been more than legend, a descriptive detail from our oldest stories dating back to before the creation of Sanctuary, stories that were so rarely told everyone had ceased to believe they were real.
But I remembered. My mother had always liked to tell us stories.
The ones about the world beyond our walls, however unbelievable they were, had always been my favorite.
We walked toward the river and then waded into it.
It wasn’t deep but the current was strong and it took a large portion of our warriors to keep the horses from panicking during the crossing.
The rest of us stepped carefully, slowly forward and focused on not drowning.
Not that I would, given my Gift of breathing underwater.
But they didn’t need to know that. In fact, the less they knew about my so-called Blessings, the better.
We emerged on the other side of the cool river, soaking and teeth chattering.
I didn’t mind the cold. After so long in the scorching desert, it was a welcome relief.
But some of the others were muttering about how it was past time they built something called a bridge.
Gryfon, I noticed, ignored both them and the water, striding as easily forward in the river as he had on land.
By the time we emerged on the other side of the river, he was halfway into the trees and moving toward the denser part of the forest.
“Through the trees,” one of the warriors instructed unnecessarily, waving us along like wayward children he was assigned to keep an eye on.
“Obviously,” Zya muttered under her breath.
I snorted and we both exchanged a smile as we stepped into the heavy tree line.
“Prima has already welcomed you here, right Adrian?” Kane asked from behind us.
I turned and gave him as reassuring of a smile as I could muster.
“We’ve spoken,” I told him. “She knows we’re coming.”
He nodded but I could tell I hadn’t assuaged his fears in any way.
“How’s it going with your brooding trainer?” Zya whispered as we stepped through the trees and the sun seemed to fade away behind us, leaving us facing a darkened forest.
“The same,” I replied with a sigh. “It’s been days since we started and he insists on hurling knives at me every chance he gets. If I didn’t know he had good aim, I would swear he was trying to kill me.”
Zya smiled at that.
“As it is, I don’t see how any of it's supposed to be helping me call the dark,” I told her, irritation creeping into my tone the way it always did when I spoke of my training.
“He just forces me to run for my life while screaming vague instructions about claiming my ‘true power’ and reaching for the ‘source’, whatever that is. And he only ends each session when I get mad enough to strike back. Then he just smiles that stupid grin of his and says we’re done for the day. ”
Zya laughed.
“He’s an…unconventional instructor, I’ll give him that,” Zya said, amused.
“That’s an understatement,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But if Prima expects me to learn how to call the dark, I think she might want to rethink who she’s assigned to train me.”
“I don’t know. I think she’s got it right. I mean, after all, I don’t know anyone more stubborn than either one of you. If anyone can teach you something you don’t want to be taught, it’s Gryfon.”
My gaze snapped to her and I opened my mouth to argue but then the sun was beaming down on us again and we were stepping out of the trees and into a clearing full of men and women bustling about their afternoon work.
I stopped walking.
It was a city of tents. White canvas tied to sturdy wooden poles littered the massive clearing.
Women strode to and from the fires and cook pots settled between and around them.
Men carried buckets of water from the river or sat skinning hunted beasts by open canvas flaps.
Some hung laundry on lines strung up between tents, some weaved baskets from river reeds and chatted warmly by the fires, some crafted or sharpened blades big and small at various forges.
Children ran about, playing with woven toys or kicking slimy river rocks back and forth.
The tents seemed to stretch on forever and, in the very back of them, a cave.
The opening was at least fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide and it yawned into a dark abyss that one could not see beyond.
“This is Archí?” I asked, striding toward Gryfon who'd just finished giving his warriors their final orders of the journey and welcoming them back home. “This is your city?”
“It isn’t my city but yes,” he replied. “It is Archí.”
“I thought it would be more…founded,” I told him, trying to keep the disappointment from my tone. “It’s been two thousand years and you have…tents.”
“Archí isn't home. Those who come here do not make it so,” Gryfon explained, his voice low.
“It's a sacred place, a beginning of sorts, but it isn't our home.
We're a nomadic people, moving place to place to avoid whatever threat the Geist have invented against us most recently.
We're not safe here or anywhere. So how can we build a home until we are?”
“That sounds difficult.”
“It's not for the faint of heart,” Gryfon said, giving a pointed glance at Darius who scowled in return before storming away to join the others, Roxy trailing after him.
I sighed.
“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize him like that,” I said.
“He makes it far too easy,” Gryfon grumbled in reply. “And you all need to stop tiptoeing around his feelings. It will make him weak and weakness will kill him.”
“You know, there are ways to get your point across without being an asshole.”
“I’m not aware of any.”
“Not everyone responds well to the tough love approach.”
“Who said anything about love?”
I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to sigh again.
“Well your just-tough-no-love approach isn’t working on me,” I told him as we strode forward together into the camp.
I didn't miss the way people cleared out ahead of us, eyeing Gryfon warily, as we went. Some bowed their heads in greeting, some smiled and waved, most just moved aside, staring and wide-eyed. Curious.
“Perhaps it's the student who's the problem, not the teacher,” Gryfon muttered at my side.
“Only a shit teacher blames the student.”
He snorted at that, actually briefly smiling. I was so shocked I could only blink at him in surprise.
“What?” he asked. “I’m capable of laughter, you know.”
“I wasn’t aware the soulless could feel joy.”
He smirked that devilishly handsome grin that had me looking away, clearing my throat.
“What am I doing wrong?” I asked a moment later, voice softer, more vulnerable, than before.
He sighed.
“I don’t know,” he confessed and my heart fell.
I hadn’t realized I'd been harboring a hope that he secretly knew a quick and easy way to call the dark and was just waiting to see if I could figure it out on my own. That hope shattered as he spoke, along with any illusion I’d had that either of us truly knew what we were doing.
“I thought replicating near death experiences would instigate the corruption and help you call the dark but I don’t think you believe I might actually kill you. Though I can’t imagine why.”
“Not for any great feeling you’ve shown me, I assure you,” I replied sarcastically.
“It’s simple logic really. You need me. You, Prima, all of Archí.
So why would you risk truly harming me? You wouldn’t.
I think, subconsciously, I know that. So manufacturing that primal fear isn’t going to be possible. Not here. Not with you.”
He was nodding along as though he’d already thought of all this himself and was just seeking confirmation.
“Then we’ll have to switch tactics,” he told me. “Give me the night to consider it. Meet me at the tree line at sunrise.”
Before I could answer, he was gone, striding away toward a nearby group of warriors who grinned broadly when he approached, clapping him on the back in welcome.
I wasn’t alone for long. A woman approached as soon as Gryfon stepped into a nearby tent with the warriors who'd greeted him. She held out a bundle of fresh clothing and smiled warmly.
“Fallen,” she spoke softly. “I’m to show you to your tent.”