Without another word, they left the tavern room and conversations of the past.
Diomedes rubbed the back of his neck, internally groaning from the strain he felt in his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time they had sat down and rested. Now that they were sitting in the low light of a tavern inn, he could feel his muscles even as they stiffened. The food was mediocre, but it was the bed Diomedes looked forward to most. When Armannii had mentioned that they should stop to rest, he had almost cried out in relief.
Not only had they left the maze, they had also been walking in the Dark for what seemed like hours until they wound up back in Bayan. But how could he know how long it had really taken? There was no way to tell. It was infuriating. Only Armannii seemed to be able to tell time, and every time Diomedes asked how, the elf simply replied that the forest changed subtly from day to night. There was something about mushrooms coming out in the daytime, but Diomedes had yet to see any of the fungi.
By the time they made it up to the room Armannii had paid for, Diomedes was ready to collapse on the cot despite the various stains he spotted on it. The room smelled like feet, a scent which intensified when all three of them removed their shoes.
Armannii helped Diomedes rewrap his two injuries, stating that it’d be a good idea to let his arm air out the next day so it could scab easier. After Armannii had finished, Diomedes took some of the salve and strips of bandages Armannii had purchased from the healer back in the safe haven village and wrapped his blistered and, in some cases, bloody feet.
And then they slept. It felt like Diomedes had only blinked before Armannii was shaking him awake.
“We’ve got to go meet someone today,” Armannii said when Diomedes asked what the rush was. “I already sent him a message to meet at my favorite place, and—”
“Let me guess,” Diomedes said, yawning. “A pub?”
“The best pub in this awful world, yes. And he’s going to meet us there in a few hours.”
Diomedes groaned as he sat up in bed. Each muscle in his body screamed at how tight they were no matter how slowly he moved. “This is the guy who can do the spell, right?”
Armannii nodded, tossing Diomedes his canteen. “Yes. He, in theory, should be powerful enough to do the spell.”
“What kind of magic does he have?” Blanndynne asked from her cot, running her brush through her hair. She worked through a knot over and over again. Even though he’d grown up with a sister, Diomedes had never seen a woman so aggravated by tangles in her hair. To be fair, though, Blanndynne did have a lot of it.
“Dark magic.” Armannii inhaled deeply. “Powerful dark magic. I only know of one or two others as strong as he is, and neither of them are an option for us.”
“Why?”
“One is dead, and the other wants me dead.” Armannii’s silver eyes gleamed in the light of the glowing runes on the low ceiling. “Both are stories for another time. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”
“Remind me again why you can’t just do the spell?” Diomedes asked once Armannii had left. “I mean, if you can fly, what’s stopping you from letting me talk to Raylee?”
“I can’t have anything to do with life and death. That includes talking to the dead.” Blanndynne’s response was short but by no means unfriendly. She shrugged. “In all honesty, I wish I could help.”
Diomedes snorted. “A genie making a wish. Now there’s something you don’t hear every day.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. But when his gaze landed on Blanndynne, one of the questions he’d noted to ask her later popped into his head. “What did Elias wish for?”
Blanndynne’s eyebrows creased, and she glanced down at her lap. “He was sick when he was born. Spent much of his life in a bed or being looked after by the castle healers. When he sent someone out to find my vessel, the first thing he did was tell me about his chronic pain. He explained that he rarely spent more than a few days a week feeling less than terrible. When he asked me for a healthy life, I granted his wish. He was elated.”
“Seems like a reasonable thing to wish for,” Diomedes said, watching the way her nimble fingers weaved her hair into a braid. “What about his second wish?”
“Wisdom. Well, knowledge actually. He wanted the ability to retain every piece of information he ever read.”
Diomedes paused, tilting his head to the side. “Strange. Do you know why he wished for that?”
It took a second, but she nodded. “He struggled with his studies because of how much time he spent sleeping in bed as a child and well past his teenage years. Kylian far surpassed him, which I guess was humiliating to Elias since he was older and was meant to inherit the kingdom.” She stiffened after she finished speaking, and Diomedes had a feeling he knew why.
“Then he was supposed to free you instead of making his final wish,” Diomedes said, regarding her with careful eyes.
Her hands tightened around her hair, and she nodded. “We spent so much time together. Became close friends,” she said, sighing. “I actually believed he might do it.”
“So what happened?”
“I’m not completely sure. I just know he came out of a meeting with his father and brother, and when I found him, he was livid. He was ranting about something from the meeting, something about the people’s favor. Before I knew it, he apologized and then used his final wish to earn the favor of the people. I was heartbroken, and we argued. He must’ve felt guilty because as soon as I granted his wish, he sent me to my vessel, which he hadn’t done since the first time he let me out.”
“Health, knowledge, and favor. Not your typical wishes, I suppose,” Diomedes said after Blanndynne left a gap in the conversation.
Blanndynne stood up, fastening her cloak around her collarbone. “Despite his broken promise, I know in my heart he would’ve made a better king than his brother.”
When she mentioned Kylian, even though it hadn’t been by name, Diomedes tensed. “Armannii’s waiting for us.”
Without another word, they left the tavern room and conversations of the past.
Even with the rest they’d had at the tavern, fatigue still hit Diomedes in waves. One second he would be fine, following Armannii like normal, and a moment later he would struggle to keep his eyes open and lose sight of both Armannii and Blanndynne.
“It’s like trying to keep track of a child,” Armannii said, startling Diomedes from behind, although he steeled his jaw so the shock hopefully wouldn’t show on his face.
“If you would slow down for half a second, maybe I wouldn’t be having such a difficult time following. The rune on these glasses obviously isn’t as strong as your sight runes.”
“Clearly.” Armannii gripped his bow tighter than normal. “Because if you did have a sight rune, maybe you’d notice that you nearly walked into a hunting trap.” He gestured with the end of his bow to a piece of metal right next to Diomedes’s foot. Reflexively, Diomedes took a step away from it. “You could’ve lost your leg in that thing. And as much as you’re my friend, I will not be giving piggybacks back to Phildeterre.”
“Noted,” Diomedes said with his jaw clenched. “How much farther are we going, and is there anything else I should be looking for?” His voice was strained, and he tightened his lips into a thin line when he had finished speaking.
“Plenty of things. But knowing you, you wouldn’t realize you were in danger until the threat had already torn out your throat. Just stick close, okay?”
“Then go slower.”
“As you wish, Prince Whiny Pants.” Armannii rolled his eyes as he bowed, and despite the sarcasm, he did go slower for Diomedes.
They caught up to Blanndynne, whom Diomedes hadn’t seen at first. She sat on a branch high up in a tree, one leg crossed over the other.
“What took you two so long?” she asked as she floated down.
Diomedes watched, still impressed by her ability to fly. He could tell it was another skill, like enchanting, that she was trying to practice. Her brow shone with a thin layer of sweat, but when she raised her eyebrow at Diomedes, he stopped staring. Instead, he adjusted the glasses. The constant darkness strained his eyes, and he could feel a tiny hammer pounding the sides of his skull.
“I was just informing Didi that it would be in his best interest to keep up.” Armannii put too much emphasis on the last two words, earning a glare from Diomedes.
“Cut him a break,” she said, pulling her long ponytail to the front. She combed through it with her fingers. “He can’t see as well as us, even with the glasses.”
“That was his excuse too.” Armannii shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re almost there.”
“The pub?”
“Ebony Pub,” Armannii said, grinning. “The only decent place in this world. Entirely superior to the one we were at a while ago, as well as all the others.”
“Let’s keep going,” Diomedes muttered, rubbing his brow in the hopes it would ward off his growing headache. It didn’t.
After trekking through the Dark a little longer, the scenery finally began to change. They could no longer walk any farther to the right because a wall of rock expanded as far as Diomedes could see, which of course wasn’t very far.
“The Western Cliffs,” Armannii said. “We just follow this south to the pub.”
If wandering around the trees had been difficult before, it was even harder now because there wasn’t as much room to move with the cliffs on one side.
“And you’re sure this guy can do the spell?” Blanndynne grunted when a branch caught her hair in its grasp. She yelped and went to work untangling. Armannii stopped, turning to help her until she smacked his hand away. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched.
“He’s strong. That’s for sure,” Armannii said, his voice carrying an air of hesitation.
“But he can do it?” Blanndynne asked, finally freeing herself from the branch.
“It’s not as much a matter of if he can and more a matter of whether he will,” Armannii said, turning around.
Diomedes already missed the sun. Ironic, since he spent most of his time inside during the day or in the darkness of the Black Forest.
But Armannii had been raised in the Dark. As Diomedes considered that, he wondered if a part of Armannii felt like he was home. He clearly understood how things in the Dark worked, wisdom both Diomedes and Blanndynne lacked. It felt like every noise had Diomedes gripping his sword tighter, and after a third tree grabbed at Blanndynne’s hair, she put it up in a bun with a frustrated huff. But Armannii strode with confidence, one hand on his bow and the other with an arrow ready to arm at any second. He navigated the low-hanging branches like they weren’t even there.
By the time they reached a more open area—more open in that there were slightly fewer trees—Diomedes had developed a pain in his jaw from clenching his teeth for an extended amount of time.
“We’re here,” Armannii said, leaning against the cliffside.
Diomedes bit his tongue, refusing to ask the question he knew Armannii was waiting for him to ask. Thankfully, Blanndynne asked it first.
“Where is it?” Blanndynne glanced around them.
Armannii patted the rock wall behind him. He turned on his heels, spinning with more flourish than necessary in Diomedes’s opinion. With his rune pen, Armannii traced the open rune on the stone. It glowed briefly before fading.
“Follow me,” Armannii said, a gleam in his silver eyes.
The elf disappeared into the wall. Diomedes blinked.
“Where did he—” Diomedes started to say, but Blanndynne walked up to the wall and disappeared as well.
Taking a step forward, Diomedes reached the face of the cliff. It looked exactly as it had before, except it had just enveloped his two companions.
With a quick exhale, Diomedes closed his eyes and took one more step forward. A cold ripple swept through him, and then he was struck with a wave of sweltering heat. A cacophony of noise assaulted his ears, and there was an overwhelming stench of body odor and drink. From behind his eyelids, he could see a drastic change in lighting.
“Take those off!” Armannii shouted from somewhere in front of him. “And welcome to Ebony Pub, the happiest place in the Dark.”
The glasses slipped off his face, and the light dimmed from behind Diomedes’s closed lids. He blinked a few times, testing the brightness level before fully opening his eyes. Armannii stood in front of him, holding the rune-inscribed glasses out for Diomedes to take. However, Diomedes was too distracted by the scene he had just walked into.
Like Bayan village, the pub contained people ranging from clearly human to a shape in the back of the room that looked oddly like a pig standing on two feet.
“It would probably be best not to stare, Didi,” Armannii said over the blaring noise.
Diomedes knew Armannii was right. Staring would probably bring more attention to them than they needed, yet he found it increasingly difficult to mind the suggestion the farther in they walked. Blanndynne had disappeared from sight, and Armannii mentioned something about her finding a drink.
At a table on his right, three pixies gambled over a card game where the cards must’ve been no larger than Diomedes’s pinky nail. On his left, a troll with bright blue hair made a speech in a language that sounded like he was talking with his mouth full. A few other trolls with colorful hair—although one of them was bald—raised their goblets in celebration to whatever the blue-haired one had said, clanging their drinks and spilling the liquid everywhere before chugging it down.
A man with brilliant orange eyes watched as Diomedes and Armannii passed, only looking away when a fly flew overhead. Diomedes blinked twice to confirm what he had seen—the man had extended his tongue, which was at least a foot long, catching the fly and pulling it into his mouth. Diomedes held back a shiver.
Armannii led the way, but just like in Bayan, Diomedes found it difficult to keep up with him because of the variety of people around him. A man with a waist as round as a ball licked each of his fingers, which were covered in grease of some sort. Besides the man’s size, there didn’t seem to be anything extremely strange about him, at least until Diomedes saw the remains of what he had just devoured. Whatever it had been, the bones remaining on the trays were the size of Diomedes’s whole arm, if not bigger. And there were five trays in front of the man.
“Didi,” Armannii said, creeping up next to Diomedes without his knowing. Diomedes startled, swallowing hard. If he had been hungry before, it was all but gone.
“What?”
“I told you not to stare.” Armannii grabbed Diomedes by the arm and tugged him in the direction they had been going. “Besides, I didn’t bring you here to gawk.”
Diomedes yanked his arm out of the elf’s grip. “Where’s your man?”
A woman dressed in a flowing white dress reclined near the edge of the room, watching Diomedes. She held a glass of a dark crimson liquid, and when she grinned, two shiny fangs glinted back at him. He quickened his pace to keep up with Armannii. None of the books about magic he had snuck into his father’s office to read could’ve prepared him for a place like Ebony Pub.
“Don’t be silly. You’re my man. But the guy waiting for us is over there.” Armannii stopped, nodding toward a man sitting at the back of the room with Blanndynne.
Diomedes went to take a step, but Armannii held an arm out to block his path.
“What?”
“Tread lightly. Otto lives by the rules of the Dark more than the Dark King himself. If he senses he can take advantage of you, he will.”
“And we need this guy because?”
Diomedes glanced over at the man talking to Blanndynne. Even though he was sitting on a stool, he was clearly shorter than Blanndynne, who sat with her arms crossed over her chest. She kept glancing toward the bartender, a silent cry for help, from what Diomedes could tell.
The man, Otto, wore his hair short like the soldiers in the royal guard at home, and he seemed well-kept; his beard and mustache were both groomed. Even his clothes were in a cleaner state than those of most of the other people in the pub. He rested a pint of something on the counter, his body facing toward Blanndynne. He tilted his head to the side, and Diomedes could tell that whatever he was saying was upsetting Blanndynne because she all but scowled at him twice in the short time he’d been watching. There was something off about him, something Diomedes couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“How do you know him?” Diomedes asked, his gaze returning to Armannii, who snorted at the question.
“I met him the same way I meet most people. I needed something he had.”
“His dark magic?”
Armannii shrugged. “It’d be good for you to know the number one rule of the Dark: trick or be tricked. When making an exchange, the trade-off is rarely ever even. Someone always loses something. Otto doesn’t like to lose.” A hint of a smirk crossed Armannii’s face. “But neither do I.” He handed the rune-inscribed glasses to Diomedes, then nodded toward Blanndynne and Otto. “Come on. She needs us to rescue her this time.”
Diomedes rolled his eyes, ignoring the fact that his friend had once again found a way to avoid his questions by giving vague answers and changing the topic. At least he didn’t outright lie to Diomedes’s face like many of the people back in Cyanthia.
The thought of Cyanthia and Phildeterre caused Diomedes to falter. A small part of him wished his sister could see the pub or at least the variety of people in it. Ellayne had been just as interested in the books about magic as he had, because Diomedes had snuck her into their father’s office as soon as she was old enough to know not to tell anyone about it.
But just as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it left. Ellayne still struggled to understand what was happening outside the castle walls. He wished there were a way to show her, to push her out of her comfort zone so she was forced to make a decision on her own. Diomedes didn’t understand how she believed their father’s council and the king himself would do anything sitting tucked away in the safety of the castle.
Most, if not all, of the people in the room likely knew someone who had—or had themselves—been forced out of Phildeterre on threat of death and the death of their loved ones. And for what? Because they’d been born with magic in their veins? How was that at all just?
By the time Armannii and Diomedes reached Otto, Diomedes’s hands were vibrating with anger. Otto seemed to pick up on it quickly.
“Didi, hmm? I assume you’re not angry with me since you haven’t met me,” Otto said, shaking Diomedes’s hand. When the short man grinned, Diomedes held back a grimace. Almost everything about him was clean—except his teeth. Some were missing, others were chipped and crooked, and all of them were yellowed to the point of almost being brown. Otto sat with relatively good posture, especially for someone who had not been trained from a young age like Diomedes had been.
“No, of course not. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Otto, correct?” Diomedes forced a civil smile, a technique he had also learned from years of training as crown prince.
“So, Ovair has told you about me then. Good. I was just getting to know your lovely friend Blanndynne. A genie, right?” He turned to Blanndynne, who had been glaring at the back of the man’s head until he looked at her.
With all three men staring at her, Blanndynne put a smile on her face. “You’re correct.” She waited until Otto returned his focus to Diomedes before sending a quick glance to Armannii.
Whatever Otto had said to Blanndynne, Diomedes could tell it had left a bad taste in her mouth. But if the man in front of him could aide him in his desire to end the war, then he’d put up with whatever the man threw at him.