Page 2 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"Mine," he whispered, the word carrying an odd sing-song quality that raised the hair on my arms. "You're mine. They can't have you. Won't let them take you away from me."
"Who?" I asked, backing away from him instinctively. "Taveth, who can't take me?"
But he wasn't looking at me anymore. His gaze had returned to the temple, and his lips were moving in a rapid, silent dialogue with invisible speakers. The trembling in his hand had spread to his entire body, and I could see sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool mountain air.
Whatever was happening to him, it was connected to that place. The temple was affecting him in some way, calling to him or speaking to him or doing something that was clearly distressing him greatly.
"We need to leave," I said firmly, tugging on his arm. "Taveth, let's go. Take me away from here."
My words seemed to penetrate whatever trance had seized him. He shook his head violently, as if clearing away cobwebs, and when he looked at me again his eyes were more lucid. But the fear in them was unmistakable.
"Yes," he said, his voice rough. "Away. Need to get you away from here."
He turned abruptly and began pulling me in the opposite direction, his steps hurried and unsteady. I followed without protest, too unsettled by what I'd witnessed to argue. Whatever power that temple held, it was nothing I wanted to be nearby.
We walked in silence for several minutes, winding through narrower streets that climbed steadily higher up the mountain face. The oppressive feeling that had emanated from the temple gradually faded, replaced by the more normal atmosphere of a residential district. Here, the buildings were smaller and more intimate, clearly designed as private homes rather than public spaces.
The architecture was different too—less ornate than the market district, but no less impressive. Dwellings had been carved directly into the mountain face, their entrances marked by wooden doors set into the living rock. Networks of stairs and pulleys connected the different levels, allowing residents to move between homes that existed at various heights on the cliff face.
It was like looking at a vertical city, with some homes existing hundreds of feet above others, all connected by an intricate system of walkways and mechanical lifts. Children played on terraces carved from the stone, their laughter drifting down from impossible heights. Laundry hung from lines strung between balconies, adding splashes of colour to the black stone.
"It's incredible," I breathed, craning my neck to look up at dwellings that seemed to disappear into the clouds. "How dothey build so high? How do they even reach some of those places?"
"We are mountain people," Taveth replied, and I was relieved to hear that his voice had returned to normal. "We learn to climb before we learn to walk properly. And the pulleys allow us to transport heavy materials to any height."
He led me to a stairway carved into the rock face, its steps worn smooth by countless feet over the centuries. We began to climb, and I quickly understood why the Talfen were renowned for their physical prowess. The stairs were steep and seemed to go on forever, winding back and forth across the mountain face in a zigzag pattern that made my legs burn with exertion.
"How high are we going?" I gasped after what felt like hundreds of steps.
"Not much further," Taveth assured me, though his own breathing was laboured. "My home is on the seventh level."
The seventh level. I tried not to think about how far we'd climbed, or how far we'd fall if I missed a step. The stairway had no railings, trusting entirely to the sure-footedness of its users. One wrong move would send someone tumbling down the mountain face to their death.
But the higher we climbed, the more spectacular the view became. The valley spread out below us like a green and gold carpet, dotted with villages and farms that looked like toys from this height. Rivers sparkled like silver ribbons in the afternoon sun, and forests covered the distant hills in a dark green blanket that stretched to the horizon.
"It's beautiful," I said, pausing to catch my breath and take in the panoramic vista. "I've never seen anything like it."He paused for a moment, looking out over the spectacular view and his face softened. For a moment, I thought he might even smile, but he simply nodded.
“It is. Come.”We reached his level after what felt like an eternity of climbing. A narrow ledge carved from the rock provided a walkway in front of several wooden doors, each marking the entrance to a different dwelling. Taveth led me to one near the middle, where a door of dark wood was set flush into the stone.
The craftsmanship was exquisite. The wood had been carved with flowing patterns that seemed to complement the natural grain, creating designs that were both geometric and organic. He placed his hand on the door, and it swung open on silent hinges, revealing darkness beyond. I shivered at a sudden sense of foreboding, but he pulled me into the darkness, and the door swung shut behind us with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. For a moment we stood in complete blackness, so absolute that I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face.Then I saw the spark of a flint, and the flare of a candle, then another and another. The interior of his home took my breath away. We stood in a small chamber carved from the living rock, its walls curving in natural arcs that made the space feel organic and welcoming, despite how minimal it was. There was a work surface with shelves underneath bearing cooking pots and bowls, and an opening towards the back of the cave that I guessed led to some kind of private area.
The candlelight threw his shadow, long and distorted, against the curving stone wall. He moved past me to set the flint and steel on the work surface, his movements economical and precise. The silence in the small room was heavier than the stone around us, thick with the scent of old woodsmoke and him.
The intimacy of the space closed in, sudden and suffocating. This was his den, his refuge, and he had brought me, his enemy, into the heart of it. A tremor ran through me as I watched him unbuckle the leather harness across his chest. What now?
As much as I felt the strong pull of the mate bond between us, I had other bonds I couldn’t deny. The others would be looking for me, maybe even believing I had perished on that battlefield deep in shadow and blood. I needed to get word to them, I needed to get back to them somehow, but Taveth did not strike me as a man who would just let me leave. I needed to build his trust, and I needed time to work out what in Inferi I should do. I couldn’t abandon the men I loved, and I couldn’t leave Taveth either. I highly doubted he would come with me into the heart of the Empire that he hated, and I could never put him in that much danger. Suddenly the cave felt more like a cage than a home.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, my voice barely audible even in the stillness of the cave.
Taveth turned to me, his white hair gleaming in the candlelight, his eyes holding that same intensity I'd seen when we'd passed the temple.
"We're safe here," he said, his voice low and steady as he turned to face me. The candlelight caught the sharp angles of his face, turning his white hair to liquid silver. "No one will disturb us."
My throat tightened at his words. They should have been reassuring, but instead they felt like a pronouncement of my captivity. I took a step back, only to find the solid wood door behind me.
Simple words, but they carried the weight of mountains. I took a step back, my shoulder blades pressing against the cool stone wall.
"I need to get word to my people," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "They'll think I'm dead. They'll be searching for me."
