Page 38 of From the Myths of Kings

“I do,” Neia promised. “She’s proven her loyalty time and time again. She’s risked her life multiple times for our cause.”

At his former commander’s assurance, Ezra finally nodded, the hard line of his mouth softening. “All right then. If the great Neia Landum trusts you, then so will I.” Ezra cocked his head curiously when his pearlescent eyes landed on Tezrus. “And who is this?”

“Tezrus,” came the old man’s reedy voice in reply. Recognition flared in Rymir’s eyes.

“Tezrus the Scholar?”

“The very same.”

“You are legendary.” Ezra’s brother, Xander, sidled up to the old man. “The story of your escape from the Order of Elders was told for years. As much as the Order wanted to quell the rumors and make everyone forget what happened, your name has continued to endure these last twenty years. We all thought you had died long ago.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m still very much alive. And I’ve finally returned home.”

“You’ve been busy,” Ezra remarked, cocking a white eyebrow at Neia and Rymir. “You’ve somehow managed to recruit a Mer princess and a legendary scholar who was supposedly killed two decades ago to our ranks.”

“Wait until you see the sea dragon,” Rymir quipped.

“Sea dragon? I don’t even want to know how you managed to do that.”

“We’ll tell you about it on the way to the palace,” Neia cut in. “We need to get moving. Reunion time is over.”

“Charming as ever, no?” Rymir feigned a whisper to Ezra, winking at Neia. If it had been anyone else, Neia would have bitten off their head for insolence. But she merely rolled her eyes as Rymir chortled.

Ezra and two companions led them to the far side of the cave. The torchlight oscillated along the rough-hewn walls, catching on stalactites that glittered with minerals. A tunnel gouged into the right wall, the jagged cavity opening like the jaw of a beast waiting to consume them.

The female stone-singer, Larken, made it to the tunnel’s opening first. She surveyed the claggy aperture, running her hands along it as though communicating with the stone in some voiceless language. A crinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “No one has discovered our tracks yet. I’ll seal up the tunnel as we move forward. No one will find your boat nor the cave’s entrance after we’ve gone.”

Seal up the stone? Saoirse’s heart dropped to her stomach and a spear of fear lanced through her body. They would well and truly be consumed by the earth then. They’d be entombed in the Under Kingdom, trapped behind walls of solid rock. She exchanged a look with Hasana, who appeared equally disturbed by the prospect.

“How are we to escape once the Relic has been stolen, then?” Hasana asked.

“The same way I created this tunnel in the first place. Once you have the Relic, I’ll reform the tunnel. I’ll seal it up behind you so you can escape without a trace.”

“You’ll have me too, remember?” Tezrus placed a gnarled hand on Hasana’s shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I haven’t used my stone-singing abilities quite to the extent as Larken has, but if it comes down to it, I can get us out of here too.”

The old man’s assurances only minimally comforted Saoirse as they descended into the damp tunnel. True to her word, Larken collapsed the corridor as they moved along, bending the rock to her will with the touch of her hands. The sounds of the ocean surf gradually faded away, replaced by an eerie, numbing silence. The tight channel of stone smelled of earth and mold, chased by the metallic tang of mineral-laden pools of tepid water.

Saoirse’s heart pounded as they crept through the darkness, her chest tightening with each inhale of damp air. The tunnel reminded her of the caverns under the arena infested with Avgi spiders, the ones she’d barely made it out of alive during the second trial. Her feet throbbed at the memory, tingling as though they could still recall the acid that sprayed from the spiders’ mouths. Saoirse couldn’t help but notice the shadows creeping along the walls looked like spindly spider legs. Sweat beaded along her brow as she fought against the unwelcome memories. She desperately wished Aurelia was at her side now.

“I must warn you, King Grivur’s madness has escalated these last few weeks,” came Ezra’s voice up ahead, scattering Saoirse’s morbid thoughts of spiders. “He’s always been unstable and volatile, but ever since the Tournament, paranoia has sunk its claws deeper into him. Queen Raven has been gathering her forces on the border of Aurandel and Terradrin, but Grivur has locked himself away in his palace, throwing lavish parties and indulging in every manner of debauchery. In the wake of the explosion in Coarinth, he’s executed some of his closest advisors and locked up even the most loyal in his court. To him, anyone is a spy.”

“The Under Kingdom has been locked down, too,” Xander added. “Strict curfews, underguards flanking every corner, neighbors turning each other in for conspiracy against the king?you name it. Grivur has not let anyone in or out of the palace since he returned from Aurandel. Paired with the uprising in Meysam, the events of the Tournament have truly shaken him. After he lost control of Terradrin’s most invaluable trading city, his possessiveness over the Under Kingdom reached a fever pitch. He’s even been ignoring Raven’s call to arms.”

Saoirse remembered seeing King Grivur in Raven’s tent after the first trial. When she’d informed the rulers of Revelore that the trade city of Meysam had fallen to the rebellion, Grivur had vehemently denied any knowledge of the uprising. He’d been affronted Raven would even insinuate he’d been involved. It was well known Grivur had long complied with Aurandel’s strict occupation of the trade city. He was quick to obey Raven’s bidding as a rat was drawn to discarded crusts on the ground. Grivur had always been biddable and compliant, but not out of any love for his people. He’d been well compensated for his loyalty, his court brimming with opulence. Grivur shelled out pieces of his country like prize horses and kissed the very ground Raven walked on, all so he could maintain his lavish lifestyle and keep his pseudo crown. If Grivur was holed up in his palace ignoring Raven’s summons, his madness must be quite severe indeed.

“That does not bode well for Aurandel’s forces,” Neia remarked. “Without Terradrin’s support, we may stand a chance.”

“Or perhaps Grivur’s refusal to aid Raven will evoke her wrath,” Hasana mused. “Maybe Raven will turn her forces on Terradrin, and they’ll tear each other apart before we even need to step foot on a battlefield. If we’re lucky, Grivur’s continued insolence will cause an implosion.”

Trepidation knotted in Saoirse’s stomach as they wound through the tunnel system. Even if a rift grew between Aurandel and Terradrin, their heist was no less perilous. Although they had a stone-singer to create new unmapped tunnels for them to escape through, it would be exceedingly difficult to sneak into the palace under such strict conditions.

“In a moment, we’re going to douse the torchlight,” warned Ezra from up ahead. “This tunnel is about to skirt one of the first chambers of the Under Kingdom, a quarter of the city known as the Market District. There are a few cracks in the stone and we don’t want to risk discovery.”

“Can’t Larken just sing to the stone and block out any fractures in the wall?” Hasana asked.

“We’re too close to the city now. Any changes in the terrain will give us away. We’ll have to proceed without torchlight, I’m afraid.”

Unease coiled in Saoirse’s chest. Her hand closed over the hilt of her sword involuntarily. The soft torchlight went out without warning, plunging them into sudden darkness. Her adjusting eyes gradually took in the pinpricks of light that seeped into the tunnel. The wall was peppered with small cavities that reminded Saoirse of honeycomb. She peered out one of the holes, astounded by the beauty that met her eyes from the other side.

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