Page 39 of Vow of the Shadow King

It leads me at last to a large, octagonal chamber. Water runs down each of the high, sheer walls, catches in trenches set into the floor, and runs off in channels away from the room. I step into the echoing space. Condensation beads on my skin. “What is this place?” I ask, spinning slowly to take it in. There are patterns on the walls, beneath the running water. From some angles, they look totally random, abstract. But as I shift my view, images begin to appear—visions of kings and monsters, of dragons and palaces. All caught in ancient stone beneath the ageless flow of water and time.

“This is the upper chapel,” Yok says, his voice low, hushed. Reverent. He hunches his shoulders nervously. “We shouldn’t be here, Princess.”

I don’t want to intrude where I’m not welcome. Biting my lip, I take a step back, prepared to retreat. But then, I hear something. A drone, deep and low beneath the sound of falling water. A sound heard not with the ears, but with the bones. Another pulse emanates from my crystal. I turn sharply to see a cleft in one of the walls, a narrow crack around which water flows. Crystals sprout around the edges of the opening, creating an impression of a sideways, toothy leer. Beyond, all is pitch black.

My heartrate quickens. Even as I stare into that darkness, my necklace flares again. The pull intensifies. “Where does that lead?” I ask, pointing.

Yok looks where I’ve indicated, his brow puckered. “That way leads to thegrakanak-gaakt. The Altar to the Dark.”

A shiver travels up my spine. “A holy place?” I ask.

Yok nods. By the way his soul shivers and ripples, I can tell he’s frightened. Of what, exactly? I cross to the gash in the wall, ignoring his whispered protests, and peer into the shadows. It’s no use; I cannot see anything. But from here that deep, bone-grinding vibration is stronger than before. A hum, a drone. Musical and yet unmelodic. As deep and dark as the compressed stone of the world’s foundations. My crystal flares again. The pull is so strong now, it’s all I can do not to lurch into that opening, fall into that darkness.

Yok appears at my elbow. He puts out a hand to bar my way. “You can’t go down there, Princess.”

“Why not?” I cast him a quick look. “Are humans not permitted to worship Lamruil?”

“Morar tor Grakanak.”

“Pardon?”

“That is the true name of our god. The one you call Lamruil.Morar tor Grakanak.”

I clear my throat then give it a try. It’s such a harsh, growling sound, my vocal cords cannot manage it. I sound as though I’m coughing up phlegm.

Yok shakes his head, his expression desperate. “Please, Princess.”

“If I cannot visit his house, how can I learn of your god?”

“Why do you need to learn of the Deeper Dark? You have your own gods.”

“True. My god is Nornala, Goddess of Unity. I’ve dedicated my life to her service.” I tip my head, raise an eyebrow, and hold Yok’s gaze. “It is in service to my goddess that I must learn the ways of my husband and his people.”

This startles Yok. Another burst of confusion ripples out from him. I can feel him trying to shape a protest, trying to find the words to insist that I amnotthe Shadow King’s bride. But he’s not sure, and my confidence has put him off balance.

“You’ll find it too dark down there,” he tries finally, desperately.

“I’m not afraid of the dark.” That’s a lie. I am afraid. Because the darkness in this world is so much darker than anything I experienced in my own. Here, the darkness lurks, always just on the edges of vision, ready to overtake and overcome, with no hope of a future sunrise to drive it back into submission. In this world, light is the unnatural state of being. In this world, light is the perversion. In this world, darkness must and will one day reign supreme.

But the pull of my crystal is strong, intensifying along with my need to understand, to know the source. What other choice do I have? Give up this little quest, return to my rooms, and fall back into senseless, endless, hellish waiting?

No. If the dark must devour me, so be it. Better to die in search of answers.

This time, when I approach the crack, Yok makes no effort to restrain me. He mutters in angry troldish, but I ignore him. Holding my crystal out before me, I slide first one foot, then the other. My toes find a sharp edge. A tread. It’s a stairway. Leading down, down,down . . .

It takes every ounce of courage I possess to continue.

One hand touching the rough and uneven wall for support, I begin my descent. One step. Two steps. My crystal flares. Three steps, four. My crystal flares again, brighter. More sustained, now. Only it’s not a glow that illuminates or reveals. I’m not even certain I’m actuallyseeinganything, not with my eyes. This light is visible only to my gods-gift. As far as I can tell, Yok cannot discern it at all but follows blindly behind me.

Nevertheless, my confidence grows. Soon, I’m surrounded in red aura. When I close my eyes, it’s brighter still, and though perhaps I’m only imagining it, I believe I canfeelthe shape of the stones around me, clearer than sight.

Down below, the grinding, growling drone intensifies. Are those words I’m hearing? Harsh, troldish words. A sort of chant. A prayer? The lower I descend, the more I’m certain of it. It’s eerie and more than a little terrifying.

I reach the bottom of the stairwell. A sudden sense of space opens before me. I cannot see, not with my eyes. But the red glow of my crystal ripples out, revealing to my gods-gift a cavernous hall. I feel it, hear it, smell it, breathe it. It’s as clear in my head as any image. Boulders of all different shapes and sizes line up in twelve perfect rows in front of me. Or rather, on second inspection, not boulders.People.Troldfolk. Both big and small. Bent over in attitudes of abject prayer, faces pressed into the ground, arms outstretched before them. They wear no clothing, but every inch of their skin seems to be covered in a thin layer of dust. Or is it . . . stone?

The worshippers all point the same direction, facing the far end of the hall. There stands a cluster of crystals. Seven in total, the tallest just over four-feet, jutting at strange angles. Their polished planes gleam, pulsing like my own pendant with a spark of inner life which radiates from their cores. That pulse washes over the people in wave after rippling wave. My stone responds to the pulse. I feel other responses as well, in the walls surrounding me, in the jagged ceiling overhead, in the floor beneath my feet.

For a moment, I’m so awestruck, I do not notice the two figures standing beside the crystals. One of them is much taller than the other, a massive being with shoulders like a mountain. His long white hair gleams in the strange un-light of the crystals. Though his skin is covered in hard, rock-hide, he is somehow still beautiful. Chiseled and powerful, like a demi-god of stone.

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