Page 8 of The Night Prince 3
“The Leviathan use this place regularly,” Declan whispered to Aquilan who had joined him. He pointed with Krith–Broken Fang, his mother’s kitchen knife–towards the desiccated plants. It had, of course, appeared in his hand unbidden.
Aquilan nodded. “And it looks like not just them. I see footmarks.”
It was Declan’s turn to nod. He saw a few faint footprints in the dust leading down into the depths. Elven boot prints. Darcassan had come this way. And not all that long ago as the Leviathan prints had left them untouched.
“Rhalyf, can you do the location spell, please?” Aquilan asked the other elf.
“Already on it,” Rhalyf stated.
His eyes glowed a hot red for a moment as he held the necklace that Elasha had given him in both hands. He caught Aquilan frowning slightly when he saw that color as if it shouldn’t have been. But it wasn’t suspicion of Rhalyf, Declan thought, but more concern for the other elf’s health.
There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s just the closer he feels he is getting to Illithor, the more the Kindreth is coming out, the voice whispered.
Do you know where Darcassan is? Declan demanded suddenly.
Not with me, the voice answered then added, Not yet anyways. Keep going down, Rahven. Your blood will lead you, too.
“This way,” Rhalyf said as he surged towards the stairs that led down to the food court.
They followed after him, making little more sound than the wind. Even Finley was stepping lightly. A glance back showed him that Finley’s shoes were glowing slightly.
Rhalyf put some kind of spell on him to make him as silent as us, Declan realized and felt a wave of gratefulness to the elf.
The Adiva that Rhalyf had given him was now the temperature of the air. Neither cool nor warm as it no longer had to protect him from the Sun. But he knew nothing but relief to feel it against the skin of his chest. There was a light hand on his shoulder as Aquilan wordlessly indicated several broken metal pipes near the end of the steps. He nodded and carefully picked his way over them. He half had an idea that Aquilan wanted to sweep him up and carry him over them bride-style. But he needed no such help. Still the caring was there. And Declan felt its warmth inside of him like a fire.
The Night King cannot blame Aquilan for anything that Darcassan does, Declan argued with the voice as they padded through the path that Leviathan had made into the Pedway.
You seem quite passionate about this, Rahven! The voice chuckled.
I don’t want… Here Declan chewed his inner cheek as they approached the darkened hallway of the entrance to the Pedway.
There was no light down here. Soon the grayish dusty illumination from the Thompson Center would fade. He could see perfectly well, but Finley could not. But he was pretty sure that Rhalyf had likely done something about that as well as his best friend walked nimbly behind them, avoiding all obstacles no matter how small.
What don’t you want? The voice prodded.
Aquilan doesn’t deserve any blame! Declan cried.
Yes, but he is the Sun King so he is responsible for all his people do, the voice sounded sympathetic but unimpressed.
He’s trying to stop Darcassan, Declan pointed out. Doesn’t that count for anything?
Of course, it does. But will it be enough? To disturb sacred Illithor after all this time–
The Leviathan are already doing that if they are running rifts out of it, Declan said firmly. Wouldn’t the Night King be glad if we eliminated them from his city?
Eliminated? Is that what you plan to do? Eliminate all the Leviathan there? The voice pressed, sounding interested. I thought you were just going to rescue poor Darcassan from his ambitions!
We are, but… Declan stopped because he suddenly felt a prickling of the hair on the back of his neck and on his arms.
He reached for both Aquilan and Rhalyf, grasping one shoulder each and pulling them back. Both elves turned with quizzical looks on their faces at him. But then they heard it. The dry, slithery sound of scales moving against one another. Declan felt his heart seize then beat at twice the speed. His mouth flooded with the bitter taste of adrenaline. A fight was coming! But more than that. This felt meant. As if he was meant to be here. Meant to be doing this. As if he were stepping, finally, onto a pathway that had been waiting for him all along.
Aquilan brought up his right hand which held a glowing golden stone. A bit of sunshine in the dark. But Declan closed his hand over it and curled Aquilan’s fingers against the stone’s slick surface. He shook his head and instead gestured to himself and made a creeping motion with his fingers, indicating that he would go ahead and scout. Aquilan shook his head, but Declan squeezed his hand again and the shaking stopped. Aquilan’s eyes–like luminous blue pools in the darkness–studied his face.
Trust me. Believe in me. All will be well, Declan thought so hard that he felt as if the words should have taken physical form in the air between them.
And then he was moving. Cutting through the darkness like the prow of an icebreaker through Arctic waves. Krith was out, held down against his right leg. The hilt felt warm in this hand. He wanted to see what they were facing before anyone struck, including himself.
Knowledge is power, the voice agreed.
