He tried to imagine such a god inside Shiya, a woman who had only shown grace and a quiet tenderness.
I don’t believe it.
Still, he pictured the copper egg where he had found her, blasted and cracked open. He remembered her strength as she forged a path through The Soaring Pony, tossing people aside. According to legend, the end of the Pantha re Gaas came when the kingdom’s pantheon captured and subdued the old gods, imprisoning them for their cruelties deep under the world.
He ran his fingers along the tunnel’s copper, shivering at the power he sensed running through the metal, like a hidden storm.
Pratik noted his attention and quoted Xan: “‘An even more ancient root, one belonging to the old gods.’”
Rhaif lowered his hand and stared past Shiya into the darkness stretching ahead. Xan claimed this tunnel led to the cliffs of the Shrouds, to Shiya’s home. If that was true, then they could be marching toward the cold hearths of those hard gods.
His legs slowed.
Maybe we should not go knocking on their door.
* * *
AFTER ANOTHER TWO bells, Nyx spotted a brightness far down the tunnel. She leaned a palm on Aamon’s shoulder to help hold her up and keep moving.
At last …
The group’s pace increased, drawn to the light. Still, despite her exhaustion, she feared returning to the sky and forest. Buried in this tunnel, she had felt a moment of respite from the terrors above, but she knew they couldn’t hide down here forever.
The light grew before them, becoming blinding after the dim glow of their two lamps. Still, by the time the group neared it, her eyes had grown accustomed to the misty glare. The last bit of the tunnel lost its smooth run and became crimped and twisted. The exit looked like it had been shredded open, turning its torn metal edges into coppery fangs.
When they reached the end, each member crossed through those jagged teeth with care, having to duck and twist to pass. Finally, they all stumbled out through a nest of mossy boulders, scribed with lichen. The tunnel’s mouth was so hidden that it could be easily missed, like a copper viper buried in rocks.
They climbed free and faced what lay before them.
The world ended a short distance ahead, blocked by sheer black cliffs. Low clouds rolled against that dark bulwark, like waves against a rocky shore.
Nyx craned her neck, trying to pierce those mists to catch a glimpse of what lay above. The Shrouds of Dalal??a. Back at the Cloistery, she had learned about those storm-plagued highlands—or at least the little that was truly known about them. Only the foolhardy dared venture up there, and most never returned. Those that did came back with fantastical tales of monsters and dreadful beasts who haunted its dense jungles.
Xan led them all toward the boulder-strewn foot of those cliffs. As they drew nearer, Nyx noted steps carved up its face, climbing and vanishing into the clouds.
Frell spotted the same. “Those must be the stairs used by the Kethra’kai to ascend during the ritual of Pethryn Tol.”
Nyx knew about that ceremony. She pictured young tribe members climbing that precarious path, intent to prove themselves worthy of their place here in the forest. Like most trespassers, many never came back.
Jace whispered, “Are we supposed to go up there?”
“Maybe not us,” Nyx said.
She saw how the bronze woman, though clearly still weak, marched with intent toward the cliffs.
As they followed, a stiff wind blew and parted the roll of mists ahead. Bright sunlight pierced the cloud layer, splaying down the rock face, revealing every crevice and crack in the stone.
Nyx shaded her eyes against that brilliance. Far overhead, a fiery glint reflected the sunlight. The dark stairs led up to it and ended there. She glanced back to the fanged mouth of the tunnel, then up to the coppery shine on the cliff face.
The tunnel continues up there …
She pictured that long copper tube being ripped in half by whatever cataclysm had cleaved these highlands and lifted those cliffs high. Then the mists closed again, erasing the view. The world felt far darker afterward.
As they continued on, the tumble of boulders revealed themselves to be crude homes, cut with tiny windows and stacked like blocks up the cliff face. Tiny cairns of stones on the roofs looked to be little chimneys. She also noted the dark mouths of caves dotting the various levels, suggesting this small outpost dug as much into the rock wall as was piled outside it.
The place looked deserted. She imagined it must be where the Kethra’kai gathered prior to the ritual of Pethryn Tol. She pictured families sheltering here, praying to their gods for their loved one’s safe return, huddled around the hearths inside.
The stairs climbed out from this cluster and ascended the wall.
Xan drew them toward the base of those steps, where an archway of stone blocks framed the way up. The two legs of the arch leaned against one another, perfectly balanced, forming a point at the top.
As they gathered there, Shiya tried to continue, but Rhaif stopped her with a touch on her arm. She obeyed him, or maybe she recognized that she needed to gather her strength before beginning that long climb.
Xan took up a post under the arch.
Jace leaned toward Nyx and voiced his earlier concern. “Surely we’re not going up there.”
Xan heard him. “No.” Her gaze fixed on Jace, then swept across the group. “It’s death to climb these sacred stairs. Only those with the gift of bridle-song have any hope of returning.”
Jace sighed with relief. “Thank the Mother…”
Kanthe looked as pleased. “Then we can hole up down here while we wait. Try to signal the Sparrowhawk.” He shifted his bow off his shoulder. “Hopefully all of the legion’s eyes are still on Havensfayre and not looking this way.”
Nyx touched the prince’s arm, warning him to hold off for now.
Xan continued, “The Kethra’kai will assist Shiya during the last steps of her journey. But there are three among you who are welcome to come, who are perhaps fated to this path. Three who bear the gift of bridle-song.”
Rhaif pushed forward. “If Shiya is going up there, so am I. I didn’t cross half the Crown to abandon her here. And as you said, there is some whisper of bridle-song in me.”
Xan bowed her head in gratitude. When the elder lifted her eyes again, her gaze fell upon Nyx. Nyx had been expecting as much and stepped forward.
Both Jace and Kanthe grabbed her arms on either side.
Jace firmed his grip. “I won’t let you go.”
Kanthe agreed. “If I let anything happen to you, a certain knight will have my head. And I have enough people trying to kill me.”
She didn’t have to fight herself free. Aamon stepped around them, perhaps sensing her desire, and bared his teeth at the two. They quickly let her go.
She silently thanked them both with a touch. “This is my path. You both know it.”
She read the reluctant knowledge in their faces.
“Then we’ll go, too,” Jace insisted, straightening and glancing to Kanthe for support.
Nyx shook her head. She trusted Xan’s knowledge and warning. “That’s neither of your paths.”
“Then just come back,” Jace pleaded. “You have to come back.”
Kanthe sighed and glanced at the stone homes. “We’ll wait for you here. Maybe invite a certain knight to join us while you’re away.”