A noise of frustration tears from my lips like a growl. “Come the fuck on.”
“Sire?”
My head snaps up at the voice, and I zero in on one of the villagers walking up from the small pavilion that’s stuffed between the cracked cave of the mountainside. He hurries over, hood pulled up to try and fend off the deluge that’s just started to pour, his bulbous nose showing beneath. “Let me.”
With deft fingers, he quickly undoes the strap, and I jump down with Auren.
“Thank you, Theo,” I say. He’s not as wary of me as some of the others, but he still won’t quite look me in the eye.
“Should I alert the watch?”
I shake my head. “No need. Just see that Argo’s taken care of in the Perch. Tell Selby to give him whatever he wants and as much of it, including extra blankets in his roost. He’s more than earned it.”
Theo tips his head, already walking over to grab Argo’s strap. To his credit, he only slightly balks at the timberwing’s appearance before leading him to the Perch where he can be cared for.
As soon as they walk away, I hurry off with Auren, my booted feet stepping onto the white stone path that blends into the slushing snow. My rot doesn’t spread into the village itself, instead kept strategically around the border like a barbed rampart to keep our enemies out. And although it doesn’t spread here, this place is still steeped in dreariness.
By all accounts, Drollard Village doesn’t exist. Maybe that’s why it’s always felt so dismal. By keeping it secret, I’ve somehow made it feel even more devoid.
This place is by no means picturesque. It’s harsh and cold and gaunt, with lonely homes cut into the hollowed mountainside, cast in perpetual shadow. The people who live here don’t have the conveniences of being in a city where travel and trade are abundant. Instead, they toil to live off this bleak land, while supplemented with the supplies I can bring them. Even so, not one of them will ever leave.
They can’t.
Aside from the village watch, everyone is asleep at this dawning hour, windows shuttered in anticipation of the storm. I quickly pass by the slanted walls of the slate-faced houses, each wooden door not even a stone’s throw apart from one another. Yet the sizes of the homes themselves are deceiving since their depth is made up within the recesses of the mountain. Prickled lace vines stretch up from craggy splits in the rock floor and spider web around the doors and windows, their white-skinned berries still hanging in clumps from their stems.
The stone beneath my feet is slick with the new rain, so I take measured steps. I don’t want to slip with Auren in my arms, but I still try to go as fast as I can, boots digging into every step.
There are a few hardy evergreen trees clinging to life along the path, their frosted limbs carrying the weight of the endless cold and giving me some reprieve from the rain as I tuck Auren closer against my chest.
When I get to the bend in the path, I follow the curve of the mountain where the homes end, leaving the rock face bare save for the snow frozen against it. Above, the mountainside curls like a riptide, creating a giant, protective awning. A sheet of frozen rain drips down from it like a thin waterfall, and I hesitate, trying to think of a better way to get Auren through without soaking her completely.
“Here, let me.”
My arms automatically tighten around Auren, and I whip around at the sound of my brother’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
Ryatt stalks through the rain and, without a word, removes his cloak and flings it over both our heads to block the downpour. I have a feeling he does it more for Auren’s sake than mine. We duck beneath the sheet of rainwater as quickly as we can, and once we pass beneath the rock shelf, we’re blessedly out of the storm and into the mountain’s cave.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Ryatt lowers his arms and brings the cloak down again but doesn’t bother to put it back on.
Now encased in the shadows of the cave, it would be completely pitch-black if it weren’t for the soft blue glow that comes from the fluorescent veins that run through the belly of the mountain. These cerulean streaks branch off in every direction, running through the walls, floor, and ceiling, while colorless beetles cling to their surface to nibble on their sediment. Stalactites reach down from the ceiling, pointing at us in accusation.
“So? You going to tell me what you’re doing here?” I ask as we walk, my voice echoing bleakly.
“Did you really think I wasn’t going to come?” Ryatt’s hands clench around his cloak in bitter twists. “I wanted to come here the moment Midas issued his threats, and you know it, so you can just save your fucking commands,” he snaps, jaw locked tight.