The caves of Mithra’s Wall were unlike the caves at Stranger’s Peak; the ground was riddled with limestone stalagmites and the lichen-covered walls were moist to the touch, sticking my hair to the back of my neck and leaving my palms sweaty from the moisture-heavy air. We had raced into the caves after the hooded figure while General Lode covered our backs, defending us from what was left of the blighted men. I could feel my azi already on the offensive, its three mouths aflame. We had no choice. I would be more useful confronting the Faceless inside than I would fighting the terrible beasts outside.
“I can see why these caves are free of tourists,” Zoya grunted, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. The asha wore loose-fitting blouses and traveler’s skirts to make the climb easier, but I smelled heavy clouds of magic wafting from the spells sewn into their clothes. Zoya was in the lead, and runes of Light surrounded her, glowing dimly.
“Quiet now,” Althy cautioned. “It shouldn’t be long before we come to the large pocket chambers that Knox spoke of.”
Mithra’s Wall, I remembered, had been a favorite hideaway of the great hero it was named for. The ranges had supposedly come into being when Mithra commanded the earth to rise, to stop the nanghait from demolishing his beloved Ashi’s hometown of Thanh. But while the caves held little attraction for the average visitor, they were popular for explorers and spelunkers, and those who made the yearly pilgrimage to worship Mithra as a god in his own right.
As Althy had predicted, the narrow passageway soon opened into a large chamber, one I had seen in popular paintings and lithographs. It was the cave where Mithra famously rested after defeating the daeva, considered by many to be a holy place. Any traces of previous habitation had long since disappeared, whatever artifacts left behind no doubt stolen by adventurers over the years. There was nothing beyond a few broken pieces of wood, and a small, dark pool at the farthest wall. Neither Aadil nor the Faceless were present.
“There is something wrong here, Lady Altaecia.” One of the asha, a young woman named Ginrei, spoke up. “This chamber has no exits beyond the one we entered. If Lord Knox is right, and if Lady Tea is positive this passage is where Druj disappeared, then they could not have left without our seeing them.”
I cast my mind briefly toward Kance’s thoughts, scrying swiftly. The decision to ward as many of the Drychta as possible had proven beneficial, I saw. The fight had been speedy, if brutal. Did anyone leave the caves after we entered? I asked him.
He jumped, startled by the unexpected voice in his head. “No. Khalad and I have been watching.”
They’re not in Mithra’s chamber. They must have escaped through some other means. Please ask General Lode to guard the mountain paths and keep further watch, just in case.
“Understood, Lady Tea.”
“Kance and Khalad saw nothing,” I told the rest.
“Surely they couldn’t have gone to another apex in the range this quickly?” Zoya asked. “It would take years to search them all.”
“Can you sense Druj?” Kalen asked me.
“The Faceless is very good at masking his thoughts. I’ve been trying to find him, to no effect.”
Knox cleared his throat. “That’s not quite accurate, actually. That the chamber is a dead end, I mean.”
Althy rounded on him, looking cross. “Now is not the time for riddles, Knox. Out with it.”
The Yadoshan coughed. “I wasn’t intending to hide it, lady asha. It’s been some time since I traveled here, but I now remember. There’s another way out.” He pointed toward the small pool. “We were curious, milady. Nearly drowned getting to the other end, since we didn’t know how long the underground spring traveled. Blacked out a bit before Aden managed to pull my head out of the water. But there wasn’t anything much on the other side, only another smaller chamber. Granted, we didn’t explore it much. The wind was chillier there, and we all wanted drier clothes.”
Althy sighed; she could have groaned Yadoshans, and it would have sounded the same. “How far along is the spring?”
“You won’t need to hold your breath too long. There’s a fork in the spring though. Go down the wrong end and there’s nothing to surface to, which was what nearly got me.”
“We will take better precautions than you or your friends did, but you will lead the way. You do remember how to get there, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The other asha and Deathseekers cobbled together an ingenious combination of Air and Water runes that allowed us small pockets of air while we swam underneath the surface—more than enough to get through the underwater tunnel. Kalen and the others insisted on retaining their hold on their weapons, not wanting to emerge unarmed on the other side, and our progress was slower than I would have hoped.
It was a new experience to swim while we breathed. Zoya manifested enough Light underwater to ensure none of us were separated, and we resurfaced without any problems.
Kalen had exercised caution, sending Shield runes jutting out into the air before anyone of us left the water, but no enemy waited for us on the banks. We took our time drying off with more Wind and Fire while my love took it upon himself to explore the immediate area. “It’s as Knox said,” he observed. “There’s a smaller passageway down to the right though, half-hidden by some formations. The Faceless might have gone through there.”
“They did,” I said bleakly. “Be careful, all of you. I can practically smell the wards emanating from that direction.”
Zoya’s nose wrinkled. “She’s right. Seems like they’re more concerned with stopping us from accessing our runes than they are at keeping their location a secret. Perhaps this is where they intend the ambush.”
“Undoubtedly so,” Althy agreed. “And it will take time to remove these barriers.”
“It’s not a complete warding,” I said softly. “They may not have had as much time as they wanted either. These wards will prevent the rest of you from using runes, but they’re not keeping me from using the Dark. They want me to go alone.”
“Don’t do it!” Zoya warned.
“I’ve been inside enough Faceless minds to understand a bit of how they think. This is a blatant invitation—they want to know what I know. The best course of action would be to go in and see what they want, and for the rest of you to unravel the wards while I buy us time.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Kalen said stubbornly.
“Neither will I,” Althy decided. “Zoya, focus on the barrier with the others, then join us afterward.”
“Althy, you’ll be powerless beyond this passage.”
The asha smiled grimly. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. If Tea’s right, then they’re not looking for a battle. Let’s go see what they want.”
The warded passageway led to the smallest of the chambers we’d been to, and the Faceless and King Aadil waited for us at its end with a few bodyguards. Druj was still heavily cloaked, a hood pulled down over his face, obscuring his features. King Aadil took no such steps to hide his identity. The mad king was clothed in ceremonial armor, similar to what I’d seen hanging from the scholar Garindor’s walls in his tiny Isteran cottage back in Farsun. The king also wore a gold circlet on his head in place of a crown, with wings hammered on either side.
About a dozen bodyguards flanked him, all of whom moved in unison to shield their ruler. The king drew his sword and snarled a warning as we approached. I didn’t need to look into his head to know his insanity; his eyes looked the same as Telemaine’s had all those months ago.
“As you suspected, Tea,” Althy said quietly. “They do not have the First Harvest, and the king demands that we hand it to him immediately.” She lifted her voice and returned an answer to him in Drychta. The king responded with streams of abuse and stepped forward but stopped when the hooded figure raised its hand.
“Give up,” I said, directing my words to Druj. “You won’t find the First Harvest here.”
The figure turned its face toward me. Suddenly, I was no longer standing in a cave inside Mithra’s wall of mountains. Instead, I was some distance from a great city, watching it burn. The smoke and ash seared my senses, the smell stinging and acrid.
This is not real, I thought frantically, willing myself to calm down. This is not real!
The Faceless stood before me, but he did not attack. Instead, he inclined his covered face in the direction of the city, watching it burn.
This wasn’t Kion. The buildings were different.
It is not a city you will recognize, someone said, more whisper than voice. It was soft and hoarse, pitched low. Its name has been forgotten to all but history.
Why are you showing me this?
I have suffered loss as you have. For you, it is visions of Kion in flames. That is your nightmare as much as this was mine. And the irony is that you shall burn Kion to save it.
Who are you?
A friend, if you are willing. The figure walked into the center of that maelstrom, wordlessly bidding me to follow. I hesitated, but there was nowhere else to go, so I trailed after the cloaked figure warily, wrapping the Dark around me should my instincts prove wrong.
The man was content to walk ahead without bothering to look back and see if I followed. He stopped before the remnants of a house whose foundation had since been given up to heat and flames. It smoldered while everything around it continued to rage.
A woman lay huddled on the ground. Weeping, she clasped an unmoving infant in her arms. Her cries were the only sounds amid the crackling of fire.
We all come from broken pasts, murmured the voice from underneath the hood. The Dark attracts the grieving. The sounds of lament are a pleasure to its senses. All who embrace the Dark know loss before they are granted its blessing.
Was this Aenah? I remembered a similar vision when that Faceless had briefly lowered her defenses and gave me access to her mind. She too had clung to a dead infant before a burning city, the first and only time I felt any empathy on her behalf.
Aenah knew loss, but her grief differed from yours. Your brother was old enough to be raised, had enough of his own will to be given his own freedoms. Aenah’s child had no such choices. Her daughter would always remain an infant, never growing up and never understanding what had happened. That knowledge tore at Aenah. Usij may have known similar agonies, though the well of his mind had been poisoned for far too long to draw sanity from its depths.
You all worked together…
No. We shared the same goals and sought to independently attain them by all means. As do you, Tea. Your colleagues sought to hide the truth from you. They are willing to kill you to preserve their objectives. Only you, of all the asha who claim the Dark, seek out shadowglass.
This was the elders’ purpose, then? To kill me under the guise of a trial and an execution? Because my death under other circumstances would incite suspicion?
Have you ever thought otherwise?
I paused. No.
Mykaela they can control. She is too weak. In time, they believe, opposition will fade once you are gone. There will be new empresses and new Dark asha, and the elders shall endure. That is the nature of tyranny, young Tea. Maintaining power is their sole intention. Why worry about retaliation and revolution when they have always intended to wield the sword? Such was Vernasha’s dream.
You have kept yourself abreast of Kion politics.
I am aware of many things.
Why tell me this?
We share the same goals, Lady Tea. We make good allies. What does it matter the means used to bring about the end result?
You want destruction. You seek to complete shadowglass to rule. That is not the same as what I want.
You do not know what it is that you want. You wish to rid the world of magic, yet you do not wish to rid yourself of your dead brother. It is a contradiction you have not yet come to terms with. The only solution is to wield magic for your own good, to suit the world to your principles. You know this. It gives you guilt. We are the same.
We are not the same! You have killed so many! You blighted your own men!
There must be sacrifices. Already we have given up too much. What is the difference if men fall to the blight or if they fall to an uncontrollable daeva? You have sacrificed your own people too.
That’s not true! I refused to think about Telemaine, dead at his son’s hand, a murder I had indirectly carried out. I refused to think about poor Daisy. I refused to think about Fox, and Inessa, and Polaire.
We are the same, he murmured. We were always the same. I knew as much the first time we met.
Who are you?
One of us shall find the First Harvest, Tea. It will not matter who takes the prize, for the consequences will be the same. Once you hold a god’s soul in your hands, you will not resist. You could make a compassionate ruler and shape the world to your liking. One day, you shall understand, and you shall thank me. In the meantime, consider the Drychta a gift, a pledge that we work toward the same objectives.
No! I took a step toward him, but he gestured with his hand and I froze, unable to move.
You have not known true power, Tea. The cloaked figure approached, and I felt fingers against my cheek. He leaned in close, his lips against my ear. I tried to draw back from the unwanted intimacy, but my body was immobile. The only way for you to truly understand me, he whispered, is for you to have a taste.
His fingers marked a symbol on my temple, and power surged into me, more than I had ever taken in at one time. I gasped as I fell, my body my own once more, but still helpless as I clawed at my head and the surges of energy filling my vision.
I was strength! Never had I felt more powerful, even when linked to the azi. I was ice and lightning and fire! I could feel the world at my fingertips! I could raise armies from the dead! I could raise them all—Polaire, Daisy, everyone! I could shape life into my own making, my own pleasure. I could become a god—
Druj and the burning city vanished, and I was back in the cave, stumbling. Kalen’s hand was firm and secure against mine. “What did he do?” he asked tightly, his voice promising violence.
“He wants me to find the First Harvest,” I whispered through parched lips. My voice rose in anger. “He wants to…to make an alliance.” What did you do to me, Faceless?
All this power. Do you not hunger for it?
I did. I wanted more of it, more of the Dark thrumming through me, although I knew it would be more than I could take, that the darkrot would find me quicker. And even with that knowledge, I still wanted more.
I lashed out with my mind, intending to confront the Faceless, to release all my pent-up strength, but my mind encountered a vast nothingness. I could not find the Faceless’s thoughts, because there were no thoughts to glean from.
“He’s an illusion!” As soon as I said the words, I felt Zoya and the others dissolving the wards, and the hooded figure disappeared along with them. No trace of him remained, leaving only King Aadil behind, who stared in confusion and anger as the man he thought an accomplice left him at the mercy of their enemies.
At King Aadil’s command, his bodyguards strode forward but faltered when a gesture from Althy pinned them to the walls of the cave.
With a roar, Aadil seized his sword and launched himself at us, his blade raised toward Althy’s face. But Kalen’s reflexes were faster, and his blade blocked the mad king’s blow. The Drychta ruler made another attempt, but a rush of Wind slammed him against the wall, knocking him out.
“The Faceless was an illusion intended to deceive Aadil as well as us,” Althy said, staring down at the Drychta’s prone form. “It seems not even he was aware that Druj was a mirage. What did the Faceless tell you, Tea?”
I stared where Druj had just stood. A stone jutted out of the limestone. No, not a stone. A Seeking Stone. A twisted crescent moon with inlaid stars had been carved into its center.
“The First Harvest isn’t here,” I said hoarsely, still brimming with the immense power that the Faceless had given me. It was too much too soon, and I had to release it. “It was never here to begin with. He fooled us this whole time. He—I—all this bloodshed, just to reach out to me—”
“Tea!” Kalen grabbed me as I slumped down. I could hear him barking orders at the others, no doubt sensing what was about to happen, but I no longer cared. There was a need inside me begging to be freed, the powers building until there was only exquisite pleasure until I had no choice but to burst.
And I did.
The ground before us tore open. The bones of beetles and roaches and spiders long dead scuttled out, freed by the potency of my spells, overrunning the walls. Larger skeletons followed suit, leopards and jaguars and people who had died in these mountains pushed their way out of the ground. A low moan rose from outside, and I felt rather than saw the dead blighted Drychta reconstitute themselves, this time under my reign. I heard the yells of fright, the sound of a thousand swords being drawn.
“Kalen,” I heard Zoya say. “I’m sorry.”
And then, without further warning, she drew back her hand and punched me.