Page 77 of From the Myths of Kings

Tezrus’s voice snaked through her confusion and pain. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, but she forced her eyes open. He was alive. Relief and terror pooled in her stomach as the realization hit her.

The old man was crouched against a rock, blood spilling down his wrinkled face in a river of crimson. It leaked from an ugly gash cleaved across his forehead. One arm was pinned to his side, bent at an unnatural angle. His other arm was thrust forward, veins and tendons thick under his skin as though he was lifting something heavy. His gnarled fingers flexed and strained.

Saoirse followed the direction of his arm, gasping when she saw what he’d done. A sharpened fragment of rock had exploded from the ground and pierced through Selussa’s hand. Black blood spewed from where the stone had impaled her flesh. Tezrus called forth another slice of rock with a flick of his wrist. It nearly severed Selussa’s other hand, but she evaded the stone at the last second. When the shard didn’t cut her, Tezrus enveloped her hand instead. The pliable rock folded over Selussa’s hand like wet clay and hardened instantly. Selussa cursed, scrambling to free herself from the stone’s hold. With both of her hands immobilized, she couldn’t call upon the shadows.

“You are a fool, old man,” The Sea Witch screeched. “You cannot kill me with mortal magic.”

Selussa thrust her jaw toward the tunnel leading to the chamber of crystal mirrors, eyes flashing with fury. From somewhere deep beneath the chamber, the shushing sound of rising water echoed ominously.

Realization hit Saoirse in the stomach. The pool with the cavefish. Selussa could bend water to her will after she’d stolen Saoirse’s powers in their bargain. The Sea Witch was going to flood the chamber and drown Tezrus if they didn’t move fast.

Tezrus stumbled over to Saoirse and collapsed to his knees. He slipped her arm around his feeble shoulders and lifted her with a groan. Saoirse’s legs trembled, her lungs burning with each shallow breath, but she managed to pull herself into a standing position. Sparks of pain shot up her spine as she took a step forward and then another.

The roar of churning water echoed up the tunnel as Selussa called it through the chamber of mirrors with Saoirse’s stolen power. The rising tide would fill the cave within minutes. Saoirse and Tezrus limped toward a small opening at the far end of the chamber. The odds they could outrun the swelling waters at such a slow pace were low, but they pressed forward.

Tezrus looked like he only had a few breaths left before he’d pass out. He had overexerted his magic far beyond its limits and was losing a startling amount of blood. His face had grown waxen and the blue veins at his temples pulsed under a sheen of feverish sweat. Blood poured incessantly down the side of his face, mingling with the snow-white of his beard. Each step forward was accompanied by a wince of pain and a rattling cough. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was close.

As the summoned flood whispered up through the tunnel and spilled into the room, they limped into the next connecting chamber. Selussa barked out an unsettling peel of laughter as the water rushed at them. For her, this was all just a thrilling game with no real stakes. Selussa would come for them once she’d freed herself from Tezrus’s stone shackles, but Saoirse wasted no time speculating what Selussa would do next. She siphoned every last drop of adrenaline and fear coursing through her blood into staying upright. Tezrus sagged against her, making the task exceedingly difficult.

The cloudy water from the pool bubbled up around their ankles. It surged forward with magical purpose, moving at the behest of Selussa’s manipulation like a living thing.

“I’ll seal this chamber,” Tezrus said in a ragged voice. “It’ll stop the water.” He jerked toward the narrow passageway, lifting one shaking hand to summon the stone.

“No!” Saoirse wrapped her fingers around his wrinkled wrist. “You’ve already pushed yourself too far.”

Tezrus shook his head softly. “Let me do this.” His milky eyes were rimmed with red, but they blazed with determination.

Saoirse’s lips tightened into a line. With the water swirling around their knees now, Tezrus would drown within a matter of minutes. At least he had a fighting chance if he used his stone-singing magic, no matter how depleted he already was. She relented and let go of his wrist.

The old man pressed his palm against the cave entrance, fingers twitching involuntarily. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. The rock obeyed his bidding. A portion of the wall filled up the narrow passageway like a cork stuffed into a wine bottle. The cave trembled as the rock painstakingly rearranged itself. Tezrus’s face twisted with agony, the tendons in his neck straining as he forced the pliable stone into place. Slowly, the rushing water reduced to a trickle as the rock ground to a halt and blocked off the connecting chamber, forming a temporary blockade. Selussa was sure to break through eventually, but for now, they were safe.

Tezrus collapsed instantly. Saoirse caught the old man before his head could hit the ground. His frail body buckled in her arms and his eyes rolled back into his skull. His mouth opened and closed as he gasped for air like a fish on land.

Saoirse sank to the floor, cradling his head as his body thrashed with exhaustion. She wiped strands of blood-soaked white hair from his sweaty face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not leaving these caves, Saoirse,” Tezrus rasped. “This is where I shall pass into the next life.”

Tears beaded in Saoirse’s eyes as she stroked his now-familiar, wrinkled face. “No, we’ll find Hasana and she will heal you. Just stay awake.”

Tezrus shook his head, blood smearing against her arm. “You must save yourself, Saoirse. The fate of Revelore rests on your shoulders.” With his eyes still closed, he fumbled with a pocket hidden within the deep Elder’s robes.

“I found a vein of Bloodstone only a few chambers above us,” he whispered. “Tear a hole between realms and escape to the Underworld.”

Saoirse blinked in confusion. In his death throes, he was speaking nonsense. Before she could ask what he meant, Tezrus pulled out the obsidian vial of Selussa’s blood from his robes. His eyelids fluttered open, pale eyes staring sightlessly up at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner,” he continued cryptically. “When you gave me this vial and told me how you had exchanged blood with the Sea Witch, I started putting the pieces together. And when I heard Selussa’s tirade in the cave, my theory began to solidify.”

He stopped speaking for a moment, winded by just a few words. He fought to catch his breath, chest hardly rising at all now. She curled her hands around his as her cheeks grew wet.

“I don’t think the Forge holds true power. It was made up by the Four Kinsmen and written into myth as a red herring. For generations, the Order of Elders has studied the magical properties of the Forge in our ancient tomes and scrolls, but no one has seen it for themselves. I always thought the legends were vague and obscure, like pieces torn out from a page. The Northern Wastes are very real, and perhaps there is a real Forge out there, but the Four Kinsmen did not simply use a magical smithy to enchant the Relics and defeat the Titans.

“I think?I think the Northern Wastes are all that remain after Anthemoessa was destroyed,” Tezrus continued in a whisper. “The Wastes must be the ruins of that oceanic kingdom, the one Selussa once ruled. I always wondered what happened to them, to the sirens. The Myths of Old paint them as deceivers who betrayed the Four Kinsmen, magical lesser beings that devoted themselves to the Titans. Even the Order of Elders have never questioned them to be otherwise. But hearing Selussa’s hatred for the sirens made me question the validity of the myths. Why would she claim her own people aligned themselves with the Four Kinsmen and betrayed her? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Through her shroud of grief and pain, Selussa’s scathing words surfaced in Saoirse’s memory: Lies from the mouths of sirens led to my kingdom’s demise. My greedy people cast aside Anthemoessa in favor of power, fraternizing with mortal rulers as though I hadn’t given them everything.

Tezrus was right. Why would the sirens turn on their own queen and side with the Four Kinsmen only to then pledge their loyalties to the Titans in the end? Each version was completely contradictory. Saoirse’s head was already throbbing, but it began to ache even more as she tried to make sense of it all. The Four Kinsmen deceived us all. Everything we know about the Myths of Old is a lie.

Saoirse’s mother had discovered the truth. The truth Tezrus now pieced together. What really happened to the sirens? Why did the Myths of Old feel so disjointed and half-forgotten?

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