Chapter 53

Nic stood up from the dry, dusty earth, the wind casting sand into his eyes. They had landed beyond the walls of the dungeon, beyond the oasis of relative shade and comfort provided by the floating river. The wind was rife with a heat that starved the soul and harrowed the flesh.

Inkspur groaned.

Digging into his pouch, Nic fed the poor beast a restorative fruit and pulled him back into his tattoo, giving him time to heal.

The princess was next.

Nic cut her free, slicing through the ropes. All the while he had an eye on the air above them, waiting for the the musician’s flying paper craft to emerge from the island, to come hunting for them.

“I…” The girl gasped out as he pulled the gag away. “Sarhelia…”

“She’s dead.” Nic replied, brusque to the point of rudeness. “And we have to go.”

He grasped the princess’ hand, and the ground beneath them began to cave downwards; first it formed a crater, and then the ceiling formed over them, creating a wide, submerged room. Light and air came in from fist-sized holes in the roof, tilted at slant angles to avoid giving a straight view down on top of them.

A secret fortress beneath the earth, secure in the darkness.

But in that dark, there was a small, soft sound, and the princess began to cry.

“Everybody’s dead.” She managed to say, through deep, heaving moments where she did nothing but sob.

Nic was lost. Because she was right. He could hear the pieces coming together in her head, and she was right, in a terrible cold logic.

“Because of me…”

“Sarhelia. Everyone. And I…”

“They should’ve left me...”

“Well, they were never going to do that.” Nic snorted. This, at least, was common sense. “They weren’t that kind of people, and if they were, they wouldn’t be worth crying over now.”

But this only provoked a new round of sobs.

“Who are you..?” She finally choked out.

“Nobody.” Nic answered. “I was just passing through. I had my own reasons to fight those three, so I rode with the harpies…”

“You killed one.” Nic could hear the hope forming in her voice. In a way, that hope was more terrible than the misery it came out of.

“Yeah, sure. I did.” The weakest of them. And even that had taken everything Nic had. When he pursued them again, he’d have to be doubly careful, or he’d end up fighting the remaining two at once…

There were no good odds left on the table.

But she didn’t see that. What she saw was one last desperate grasp for revenge, and she grabbed his arms, pulling him forward.

“Can you kill the others.” She asked, and Nic saw her face, so dirty that her tears had cut streaks of clean, pink flesh across the mask of dust and sweat. “They need to die.”

And the answer was…

Nic still didn’t know.

But they were his responsibility. “I can try. That’s all I can promise. Live; die; everything’s up to what happens in the moment.”

But that was enough for her to finally, slowly, pressing her eyes closed, restrain herself from another round of sobs. She released his wrists and leaned back, slowly pushing a delicate finger across her cheeks to clear away the hanging garden of teardrops; they escaped down her jaw and fell to the earth still.

“You didn’t give me a name.” She said after a moment.

“Nicolas.” In truth, he was feeling his own guilt. He had let the demon trio into this world. Until he cut them out, like a cancer needing operation, the deaths they caused stained his hands too. “Nicolas Winterhome.”

She nodded. “Princess Enefta.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Nic settled back against one wall, feeling the cooling heat lingering in the sand. The few shafts of light cutting into the cavernous space slowly changed shades as the day crawled by.

“How long are we hiding down here?” The princess asked.

Nic examined the light, judging its hue and color. It must have been midday above; the full heat and golden glory of the sun pierced into their subterranean den. But there was no point in waiting for night to fall. Their hunter was a demon and an assassin.

He just wanted to be sure that enough time had passed for the hunter to shift his attention elsewhere.

“I’ll go up and see.” Nic said, and dived into the sand.

His aura carved a tunnel for him as he crawled through, going as far from the hidden den as he could without letting it collapse; he slowly burrowed upwards and lifted a thin layer of sand onto his back, so he would look like nothing more than a tiny crest of a miniature dune as he surfaced.

His eyes stared upwards, blinking heavily in the downpour of sunlight.

And he saw the shadow of the paper ship moving, far to the north, exploring the midlands of the desert. It moved slow and steady, sliding through the air and watching over the sands with a patient malice; Nic shivered. Their foe wouldn’t be giving up the hunt any time soon…

And for that matter, if the musician was really clever, he might have split up from his craft. Let the obvious flying foe be a distraction while he waited and watched, suspecting even now that they’d be hiding away, waiting to come out…

Nic repressed the thought.

If the enemy was that clever, they were doomed to clash. That was all. If he started imagining his opponent ahead of them at every step, he’d run in circles, wearing himself out chasing phantom foes. In the end he had to assume his enemy was someone he could outthink - otherwise, his best choice would be to throw himself headlong into a frontal fight, as soon as possible.

He dug back down and reemerged.

“All’s clear.”

“Where do we go then? The village-” Nic caught a momentary flicker of distress on her face, although she hid it well. “They’ve probably already destroyed the village in retribution…” She admitted, slowly, the words hurting.

“Probably. But your old lady was pretty clever. She might have gotten some people out.” Nic refused to give in to pessimism. One of them had to keep a clear head. “As for where we go…”

Nic was hesitant to take her to Winterhome. He’d be exposing everyone to the danger she brought, moreso than he already had by angering the demons. Right now, if he tried to put himself in his enemy’s head, they were forestalling rushing to Winterhome and trying to draw him out with havoc simply because…

Because right now, the full moon was hours away from dawning, and they needed to find a new source of divinity.

And after that, there was a little more than a week to collect the full array of Aleph marks. Worse, every time a full array was collected, the inheritor who found it would have no more reason to expose themselves to danger; anyone who found a full set was given every reason to hide down low, only coming up when it was time to enter the All-Storm and compete for the Heartstone…

That meant your chances of completing your own collection dipped every moment. The only way to be sure you’d have the full collection in time was to watch the sky, hunting down the beacons that emerged when a lesser set was completed.

And they had to be cautious of splitting up now, with Nic hunting them as much as they were hunting him…

He tasted a breakthrough on his tongue. Yes.

The reason that ship was up in the sky wasn’t to hunt for him, but to keep him bunkered down. They’d split up. One of them was hunting for a new divine sacrifice. One of them was keeping to the skies so Nic would be on the defensive, keeping him from interfering.

Now was an ideal time to move.

He disappeared back into the earth, reemerging by the princess. She flinched back- in her hand was a small teardrop of brilliant white flame, which winked out as she was frightened, plunging the cavern back into darkness.

“Don’t surprise me like that!” She snapped.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nic could sense how frayed her nerves were, and didn’t bother defending himself. “Say, what was that flame?”

“Oh, uh…” She paused. “Magic. A gift from the gods.”

“Your divinity?” He guessed. “Does it do anything else.”

“I’m…” She paused, clearly pained. “Not supposed to share that with outsiders. Not ever.”

“Now isn’t ever.” Nic pointed out. “Now is today, and I don’t think anyone ever saw today coming.We’re going to be watching each other’s backs, you understand that? I’ll do my best keep you alive - but you have to do the same for me.”

She paused for a long, long moment.

“I can make you stronger. I can give you strength. I don’t know how to fight, but- I have some power.”

“Show me.”

She lifted her hand and fire bloomed. It was pure white, a feathery blossom of dancing flames, curling up and dissolving into smoke. “Hold still.” She said- and then, flickering out, the flame became a reaching tendril. It grasped hold of him. Curled around him.

His body was enveloped.

And he felt strength flood through him. It was-

Intoxicating.

It was raw, pure strength. He felt his muscles tighten, shivering, his shoulders rising.

He felt the demonic core within his being spread outwards like a black tide.

“STOP!”

Without thinking, he pushed out with the Old Speech. She flinched, and the light surrounding him disappeared. Her eyes were wide.

“Sorry.” He panted out.

“Sorry…” He said again, slumping to one knee. His heart was beating hard. The demonic energy within him was writhing, fighting, struggling. It was thrashing like a worm in the heart of his cultivation, trying to drink up the divine energy.

“Did- Did I hurt you?” She asked, when she had recovered.

“No.” Nic said. “But I don’t think your divine and my power can mix.” She nodded.

“Now…” Nic straightened up. “Let’s get out of here.”