Page 118 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

Zander’s face turns grim. “Something must have happened at the rift.”

32

Tyree

“This is not Udrel.”

“And you know this because …” Annika arches an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“Udrel is to the east, and we sailed the western shores.” I graze a fingertip against the gash across my cheek and wince. It might be worse than the split where my skull collided with stone. At least I’ll heal quickly, now that my body is no longer plagued by merth-induced wounds.

I could have made it to that horse.

I could have escaped.

I hope she realizes that.

Annika’s eyes flitter around as if checking for those listening, but no one has seemed interested in speaking to us since we began the arduous trek—first by carriage, then by a contraption operated by a pulley that carried us far up, until the haze blurred the ground below and my lungs reached for air. Still, she drops her voice. “We have no idea how far those sirens carried us, or in which direction. And have you ever met anyone from Udrel? Because I have not. I have never even seen a map of it. Where does the Endless Sea truly begin and end?”

“I suppose.”

Annika lifts her chin in that triumphant way of hers, as if she’s seen reason where no one else possibly could. When I don’t want to throttle her, I find it rather adorable.

But I have questions. “What happened back there at the gate, when they killed those prisoners?” Or, more importantly, what didn’t happen? From what I know of the Islorian immortals—and Annika, specifically, who is known for imbibing like a sailor at port and daily—that much blood pouring free should have drawn her fangs. If it had, would they have killed her?

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” But her eyes flare, betraying her lie.

My smile is wide, letting her know I see through her. I’ll get the truth soon enough.

“This temple has stood for tens of thousands of years. Maybe longer,” our guide announces, waving a flourishing hand around. “When the haze has lifted and the sun shines, the temple’s crown of pillars can be seen far and wide. It serves as a beacon of hope for Udrelians.”

I’ve heard people say similar things about the jeweled spires of Argon. I’ve also heard them say many things untowardly about our city and its rulers when not aware who was listening. “What city are we in?”

“Orathas, the capital city of Udrel.”

I pause, waiting for him to ask where we’re from and how we washed ashore. He asks neither. “You speak our language. How?”

“You mean the ancient tongue. Yes, all who reside within the temple know it to some degree. There are places within the realm that still use it, though less with each generation that passes.”

“And where we were found, which side of Udrel is it? The east or the west?”

Our guide smiles, as if he can sense where my questions are leading. “I believe it was the south, based on the village where you were discovered.”

That doesn’t help me orient myself much. And discovered? I snort. “You mean imprisoned.”

“I do apologize for any harsh behavior. The people in the outer villages can be unsavory.”

Unsavory is one word for them. “They were burning bodies. Piles of them. Why?”

“This latest Azokur brought with it much turmoil. The people must now recover.”

I share a look with Annika, who doesn’t hide her frown of confusion.

“Azokur,” she repeats. “What is that?”

“When light and shadow battle, and the shadow wins.” He laughs at our expressions. His sunken face is especially hollow from this angle. “I imagine you come from a land of different truths, but do not worry, all will be explained in due time.”

“Do you not care to know where we are from and how we came here?” I blurt.

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