Chapter 46
Elsedora
Ported ships bobbed along the coastline of Ikanten. We’d walked a few miles south of the docks. The gull song quieted, and waves lapped the shore and coated the air in salty mist.
The remote sea cliff had a rocky face that stretched up high above and left us in its shadow. Emmerick lit a golden light in each palm to help us navigate.
We stood on a sandy patch of beach; high tide would soon approach and cover it, limiting our time.
Emmerick had changed into a simple tunic with a leather harness that held a blade across his back; I’d stayed in my leathers but opted to change into a shirt that hugged my body to eliminate any potential snags if we needed to navigate tight spaces.
“Where do we start?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and focused on which way the wind blew. Some days, it tugged at me, as though Siro’s hand guided me.
My mother had often stood at the edge of the orchard when uncertain about a decision. I’d never understood it until the magic had shown itself to me twenty years ago—about four hundred years later than it should have.
My hair lifted off my shoulders, and the direction of the gust shifted suddenly.
When my lids opened, Emmerick watched me with a tilted head and a hand on the back of his neck. While I’d always objected to people tagging along, I did not mind him by my side. It seemed he was the exception to several of my rules.
I smiled, and the sunlight in his palms flared brighter. “The wind is hitting the cliffs—I bet there’s an opening somewhere,” I said.
We searched the rocks until a shimmer caught my eye. Emmerick followed, lighting my way as I approached the cliff face.
Just as I’d suspected—there was an opening, barely large enough for the hulking man behind me to fit through. Above the cave, fused into the rock, was a golden seashell. A mark of Aquas.
“Something is here.” I was certain.
I slipped inside first.
Em grunted in exertion as his blade scraped the rock, though he managed to squeeze himself through.
Luckily, the tunnel that followed was wider, but the ceiling was low. He ducked as we stepped through the damp underbelly of the cliff.
The wind urged me forward, and the sunlight in Em’s palms heated my back.
Droplets wet the top of my head as we pushed further into the tunnel. The sound of our boots scraping uneven rock and splashing through puddles echoed.
“Wait,” Emmerick whispered as he reached over my shoulder and cast the light further. There, at what looked like a dead-end, was another golden seashell fused into the cavern wall.
I took a deep breath—we’d need to try an opening charm.
Not knowing what dangers lurked ahead made me question whether I really wanted him here with me, as much of a relief as his company was.
“It might be dangerous to open,” I warned.
He drew so close to my back that I could feel the rise and fall of his breath. “Then, we face it together.”
I nodded, though still wary of dragging him into this. I’d gone so long with little to lose for myself—another exception.
“Repeat after me,” I said and whispered a Brennac charm Fenris had taught me many years ago.
Emmerick obliged and looped an arm around me to light the wall; he put out the sunlight in his other palm to unsheathe his sword. My hand settled on the hilt of a throwing dagger as we concluded the charm and the seashell glowed sapphire.
The ground quaked as the wall shifted upward and retreated into the ceiling above.
His other arm braced, cocooning me and barring me from stepping forward. “I’ve got your back,” he said, his breath caressing the lobe of my ear.
This protective streak would lead to trouble. He’d put himself in harm’s way for me—that sort of chivalry had never excited me before. But now...
I shook that thought away as I gently pushed his arm aside and took a step into a cave strung with sharp sea glass. He stayed close and kept his sword at the ready despite there being no immediate threat.
“Down, puppy. Usually any traps, magical or not, need to be triggered. We’ll tread carefully.”
Wind hit the back of my neck again.
Onward, it implied.
The shards of glass hanging above swayed in the fresh breeze. I took a deep breath and tried to step forward, but Emmerick caught my arm and walked ahead of me.
“I’m not taking chances with your life,” he answered. I rolled my eyes but smiled at his eagerness to shield me.
Following him deeper into a beautiful chamber of glowing green and blue, illuminated by the golden light in his palm, I turned on my heel, assessing our surroundings.
No other openings, no cracks or windows into the world outside. I withdrew a throwing dagger as Emmerick’s back met mine.
“Do you think it’s a ceremony site? Maybe of Aquas’ making?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure, so instead of answering, I bit my lower lip and rubbed my thumb across the dagger’s leather hilt. This certainly wasn’t a tomb, or like any ruin I’d ever traversed before.
“It may be,” I said. “Can you shine the light brighter?”
The glow from his palm grew and extended to the walls. They, too, were made of shining, jagged sea glass. In the far-right corner, a large pool of water gently bubbled.
My intrigue heightened, and I stepped away from the warmth of Emmerick’s back and toward it.
“Else,” Em warned, clearly unhappy with my giving up our defensive stance. I heard his boots scrape as he pivoted.
Something lurked in the dark pool. My curiosity never allowed me to walk away from a potential discovery.
“A moth drawn to a flame,” Fenris often said.
The bubbling grew more rapid, seeming to boil, before a head breached the water. I fought my instinct to retreat and tightened my grip on the dagger as the form’s shoulders emerged.
“Sources,” Emmerick muttered, having taken my side with his sword raised.
Covered only by a thin robe of green kelp, which draped into the water, our foe floated atop the rippling pool. His barnacle-laden feet found solid ground on the salted pool—no mere Water-wielder could walk on water.
He faced away from us and appeared a few inches taller than Emmerick—which was a feat in itself. The skin below his kelp robe matched the deep green of the weeds that had washed ashore, and more barnacles clung to his arms.
Salt stung my nose as Em ushered me backwards with the elbow of his sword arm, still illuminating the chamber with his other palm.
This guard-dog act amused me.
The sea-formed man cracked his neck and turned to us, revealing eyes of crystal blue that contrasted against his sunken, dark lids.
“Why do you seek me?” His voice boomed, and the sea glass above us swayed. A few pieces broke off, narrowly avoiding us, and shattered at our feet.
I stood my ground. He had made no move to attack. Yet.
“We seek the last relic of Isolde,” I answered.
Emmerick stiffened.
The barnacled figure laughed. “And why would the Source of Water possess such a thing?” He stepped forward, assessing me. Emmerick’s sword pointed at the creature’s head.
“You are Aquas,” I said, and my brow furrowed. “The Book of Isolde claims you were the first to be cast away from this world.”
The Origin’s inky lips turned up at the sides. “Yet other legends claim I avoided Caym’s wrath by sinking to the ocean floor. Which version of events do you place your faith in, child of Siro?”
I straightened and motioned for Emmerick to lower his blade. He hesitantly dropped it only an inch.
“I place faith in my niece’s ability to defeat the Death Origin by whatever means,” I answered.
The Water Origin cackled. “On her own, she will try and fail.”
Cold fear licked down my spine. Damn the Sources and Reverists alike for their cryptic guidance. What did he mean she would fail? “The prophecy says—”
“That book is flawed!” the Origin barked.
With a racing heart, I stepped forward, unwilling to believe all that we had worked for would be for nothing.
Emmerick, remaining in a stiff, defensive stance, followed me forward. “Then, the last relic—how is it wielded?” he pressed with gritted teeth.
I found the question odd, considering we hadn’t yet found the relic.
Aquas laughed with menace, and a barnacle fell from his cheek. “You must bring the relic to me. Isolde had no part in creating him. She enlisted our help to craft a key to reach Caym. His power can only be unlocked by the Sources themselves now that he is ready.”
He?
“The final relic is a person?” I gasped.
When I glanced at Emmerick, his expression went stony and unreadable. He’d known.
My heart lurched; did it have something to do with what he needed to tell me? I found myself tired of our hiding from one another, dodging truths that could shape our fates.
He… a man crafted by the Sources. Like a babe left in a burning wood, born in their in-between plane.
“Dritan,” I whispered.
Emmerick grew more rigid, more imposing. “And what will you do to him if we bring him here?” Em growled out. The man before me was every bit a hardened Constable—all softness gone.
Aquas waved his hand as though this conversation was beneath him. “You should not fear what I will do to him but what he might do to you should you let him stray. Keep him from Caym’s grasp or we cannot help you.”
Emmerick huffed out an exasperated breath. Nothing added up, but clearly something had clicked into place for Emmerick.
“I would leave now, children of Siro and Astros. Return only when you understand.”
“Stay. Tell us more,” I demanded.
“I grow weak being away from the water. Also, she who lives here approaches with ravenous intent. I’d make haste.” Aquas sank abruptly back into the depths of the pool. The hair on my arms and neck stood on end.
Emmerick’s palm still shone light as we retreated from the water’s edge.
Before we’d taken even two steps, a tentacle the size of one of Mayra’s wings shot from the pool. It hooked Emmerick’s ankle, and he slammed to the ground with a grunt. All the light flickered out for a moment. Then the blue and green glass above glowed.