Seto set aside the blanket and rose, moving softly to the window. He stifled a groan when his muscles protested as he sat beside the man. The quiet wore on. Only darkness beyond the window, but Notch did not turn from it.

  “Do you know what Father told me once? The only useful thing he said to me, I fear.”

  Notch didn’t answer.

  “He told me that regret can eat a man from within; and so it had to be put aside.”

  “You have no regrets, Seto?”

  “Many,” he said. Mila was but the most recent. “I struggle with them still. But I have put enough away to survive.”

  “Don’t rush me.”

  “What would you have said to him? To her?”

  He sighed. “I still don’t know – but I’m certain; I can feel it. I won’t get a chance now.”

  “I wish I could disagree.”

  Notch flexed his hands into fists. When he released them, tiny pieces of grass fell to the stone floor. “He wouldn’t have listened to me. But Amina...I might have apologised.”

  “Once more?”

  “Yes.”

  “For her?”

  “No, for me. She had moved on.”

  Seto nodded, though Notch didn’t seem to notice. He might not have even seen in the poor light. His voice had softened yet further.

  “I would have settled for seeing her happy, as I eventually came to hope she would be. Now I have to imagine that it was true.”

  “For now that might have to be enough; and who’s to say she wasn’t?”

  He did not answer.

  Seto returned to his bedroll.

  ***

  Ain repeated his explanation, gesturing again to the wall of rock. His face was determined beneath the shadow of the leaves, a grey sky overhead. “The old path I mentioned before passes through the stone.”

  Wayrn translated and Sofia replied. “But we’ve searched; there’s no way to open it. Perhaps we should take the trail Ain found before.”

  “Which leads to the main gate,” Seto said. “That would be too bold, even for me.”

  Wayrn turned to examine the pine trees and Notch simply stood with his arms folded, waiting, expression blank. He’d been responsive enough, but disinterested in decision-making since leaving Casa-Cielo. He had not looked back.

  Sofia sighed. “I’ve checked the rock face, we’ve dug around the base and nothing works and Argeon isn’t helping.”

  A piercing cry came from the sky.

  Seto blinked. A bird swooped down, speeding toward them. At the last moment she opened her golden wings and came to settle on an overhanging branch, where she preened herself. “Bird of the Sun,” he breathed.

  Ain let out a cry of joy, calling to her. The Solave flew to his arm and he murmured soft words into her feathers. After a time, he glanced over to Seto, a flash of worry in his eye. “Worry not, Ain,” he said, speaking Medah. “It seems she missed you.”

  He smiled. Seto found himself pleased; it was well that the man had been given such a gift. It was only troubling that Seto’s message of peace had not been received so well. Was not the city facing enough deadly peril? But there was time enough for that later. Seto explained the bird to the others.

  “She has been watching us for some time,” Sofia said.

  “I thought I saw a golden bird in the village,” Notch added, but did not follow the rest of the conversation.

  “She will help with the paths,” Ain said. “Even now, I can feel my reach expanding. The paths lead into the Temple from various sources, ours is not the only secret entryway. Beyond the Celnos Mountains, from the Northern Sea there is a way.”

  “Will she stay with you underground?” Sofia asked, speaking through Seto.

  “Yes. That is where I first found her.”

  With half an ear on the conversation, obviously familiar with the bird, Wayrn had completed several circuits of the largest tree and now bent at the base. Seto moved closer. “Wayrn?”

  “This might be something.” He pointed to a worn section of the tree, where bark had been bruised.

  “Could it not have been an animal?” Seto said.

  “True.”

  Sofia knelt beside him. “No, I think there is something – the ground has been disturbed.” She scraped leaves and dirt, revealing a large square of stone with the Mascare symbol. Argeon glowed and she lifted the hatch, pushing it back to lean against the bark. “If Vinezi threw this open, it would explain the marks.”

  Darkness stretched below, ladder rungs visible – several of which appeared to have been recently repaired. “Then they have been here for some time,” he said. “As suspected.”

  “So we have a way in – will that be our surprise?” Sofia asked. She glanced at Notch, obviously worried about him, but he said nothing.

  “Yes, perhaps it will be.”

  “Then I will Spirit-Walk to scout when we near Marinus and Vinezi,” Sofia said. “We need to know what’s happening in the temple.”

  “Good.”

  She started down, followed by Emilio, Wayrn and Ain. Seto took the ladder and looked to Notch.

  “Go,” he said. “I will take rear guard.”

  Seto descended into the dark, shoulders aching as he climbed.

  Sofia had lit a lantern at the bottom, and handed one to Ain. “I will be close by, in case something attacks us,” she said. Wayrn translated and Ain nodded.

  The Pathfinder took them along a narrow passage, then into a second corridor of featureless stone. He never paused at any of the side passages. If a crossroad appeared he did not hesitate. Two stairs and he took one without pause. At two doors with Mascare masks carved upon them – he pointed to one and Sofia opened it with Argeon. When Ain finally did come to a halt at another door, this one in onyx, it was with a warning.

  “Most of the paths which lead into the temple pass through the room beyond,” he said. He swallowed; stroking the quiet bird’s feathers as he continued. “Certainly those from the side of the mountain we approached. But something waits in there; it is unlike anything I have felt on the paths. Not a darkling, yet not human or animal either. Strong steps.”

  “Some sort of Mascare guardian?” Sofia suggested.

  Seto nodded. “Possibly.” In Medah he asked, “But we have no choice? This is the best chance for a discreet entry?”

  Ain glanced at the dark of the ceiling a moment before shaking his head. Was the young man afraid of being underground? “I can feel the paths, King Oseto. It is the only choice from here – unless we wish to try the main gate.”

  “No,” Sofia said once Seto translated. “Argeon and I will deal with whatever is behind the door. Let me lead, Seto – use Chelona if you need to.”

  “I will.”

  The onyx door slid open, revealing a cavernous room, Ain’s lamp struggled to reach the opposite side. Within, a narrow bridge of stone spanned a chasm with what seemed to be an endless drop. There was no handrail but the bridge appeared solid enough. The quiet was oppressive.

  “There is something here – old magic, yet I see nothing,” Sofia said. “Ain?”

  “It is here.”

  “Cross, I will watch,” Sofia said, standing aside.

  Ain led Wayrn and Seto followed, glancing back to Sofia. Emilio only started across the bridge after a look to Notch, who nodded, hand on his sword.

  “Go, Notch,” she said. “I’ll guard the rear now.”

  Seto switched his focus back to the path ahead – the lamp showed a wide landing and a featureless wall. Once he set foot on the uneven stone of the landing he turned back to the bridge. Notch was well over halfway, Sofia close behind – Argeon’s glow lighting her way.

  The ground rumbled.

  “Quickly,” Seto called.

  Notch quickened his stride, keeping to the centre of the bridge, Sofia on his heels. The rumbling continued and the very bridge cracked at the other side of the chasm – only to rise up with the clinking of stone on stone.

  Like a scorpion’s tale.

  Notch and Sofia leaped onto the landing, Emilio catching Sofia and Wayrn pulling Notch to safety as the bridge tumbled their last few steps.

  The stone towered over the group, then hurtled down. Seto leaped aside and it struck, rocking the very cavern. Fragments of stone flew and bounced off the wall, someone crying out. Seto found his feet – there was nowhere to run. That was the trap, once you crossed the bridge you had no-where to turn.

  The bridge was rising again.

  Emilio pulled Wayrn toward the wall, the one-time acrobat clutching a bleeding calf. Notch stood before Sofia but she spoke in his ear. He frowned but let her step forward, both hands raised – where she waited, unmoving. The bridge whipped down. A shockwave buffeted Seto when it crashed into the air above her hands. As though she’d caught it without touching the stone.

  And then Argeon’s glow pulsed and she threw the bridge back.

  It fell into place with a clatter. Sofia turned back from the chasm with a smile, though her arms still trembled. “I wasn’t sure I could catch it.”

  Seto burst into laughter. “Well, you certainly did better than I would have.”

  “Where now?” Emilio asked. “There is only wall here. Do we head back?”

  Sofia shook her head. “No. Part of the wall is false – like the Ways in the palace. We’re close, I can feel Greatmasks nearby. Let me help Wayrn and then it’s time.” Her expression was firm. “I hope you’re all ready.”

  Chapter 53.

  In the brightness of the carving chamber, Vinezi had Tarvilus affix the breastplate, then lifted the mask himself. Unlike a true Greatmask, it was only a tool; no better than anything worn by the majority of his people. But power still lurked within the bone; the rich power of a recently departed God.

  And finally, he wore his own novatura. Finally, he possessed the power to take control of his own path. To cast Marinus down; to take his birthright, that which father had denied him. So little else mattered now that everything was within his reach.

  A shuddering rocked the temple below. The cacophony of shattering stone followed.

  “They’ve broken the gates,” Julas reported. Though only days had passed, his recovery had been swift, Tarvilus having discovered a way to speed it along by using his mask.

  Vinezi nodded. “So they have. Take the Storm Singer to the main altar.”

  “Which one?” Tarvilus asked.

  “Abrensi. Let Lavinia rest.”

  His brother strode off, his own novatura in place. The man possessed only one gauntlet, accepting the reduction without comment. Julas on the other hand, had spent much of his short time in the suit practicing use of both gauntlets by flinging hunks of stone from side to side.

  “Time of judgement then?” Julas asked.

  “Indeed.” Vinezi led him down the stairs. His heartbeat quickened. Finally, finally. Marinus would be searching the rooms now, making sure none of the alcoves and stairways held surprises. Of course, none did. But let that lure the man into a false sense of confidence – or a heightened state of tension. Either would work.

  Vinezi turned down an unlit corridor. Halfway to the main room now. Tarvilus’ voice repeating a command echoed behind – the Storm Singer was on the way. Good. Now he strode into the main altar room, gesturing for Julas to flank him before the altar. It loomed behind him, the giant slab of onyx flanked by twin columns of silver, each with an evenly-spaced sconce for a lamp.

  Though each lay quiet now, Vinezi had made sure the windows set high in the roof let light fall into the room. The floor before him had been patterned with masks and figures in robes, terminating at the opposite end of the hall – the opening as yet un-darkened by any intruder.

  Come Marinus, hurry to your death.

  Tarvilus joined them, assuming a position on Vinezi’s other side after ordering Abrensi to the altar. Vinezi turned.

  “Should you wish to survive this, I suggest you follow the Chants precisely as arranged.” He grinned when a tiny spark of cunning appeared in the Storm Singer’s eyes. “And do not think they will work on us – our suits have been built otherwise. Further to which, in the event of any sign of betrayal – my brothers have their orders.”

  Abrensi narrowed his eyes, then recited, “To flee the struggle and kill first Alosus, then Lavinia. Then me.”

  “You recall perfectly.”

  Abrensi sneered. “I do, Highness, Highness.”

  A rush of footsteps slowed and a pair of Gigansi entered the room. Each had drawn a sickle but neither figure appeared thrilled with their role as fore-guard. Two more of the giants arrived and then the Ecsoli. The shorter had to be Filutis, the Boar and the taller Benata, another Wave – two of Marinus’ lapdogs.

  And finally, Prince Marinus himself in his silver-lined breastplate, his stride full of impatience. Arrogance.

  Fool.

  Vinezi stepped forward but did not speak. Another figure entered on Marinus’ heels, his walk unnatural, as if compelled – Kanis? The strange Renovar priest-thief wore a deep frown and his eyes roved the altar room constantly. A prisoner seeking a way to escape? A welcome surprise; if the man survived, Vinezi would have the secret to the acor.

  “You still carve beautifully, little sister,” Marinus announced, though he came to a halt with some distance between them. “And look, more half-men beside you.”

  Vinezi hissed. The old barb ought not to have stung so. His brothers offered no retort. “Too scared to face us alone, big brother?”

  “I prefer ‘prudent’ to be honest.”

  Vinezi laughed. He made a tiny gesture and Abrensi’s voice boomed forth. The Chant of Sleep struck the Gigansi immediately; they sunk to the floor after only a few words but the Ecsoli around Marinus only faltered. Kanis too, collapsed to the stones.

  Marinus had not moved but Rael glowed.

  Vinezi gave another signal and Abrensi started the Chant of Awakening. Columns shuddered and the stone floor burst upward; revealing long bones. A dozen skeletal guardians rose, converging on Marinus. Boar and Wave flung hunks of stone at the creatures, slowing them. The leg of one guardian shattered. Marinus raised both hands, sweeping several into the wall and closing his fist – holding them in a self-sustaining Compelling!

  Vinezi snarled. “Deal with those two.”

  His brothers sprang into action beside him; Julas flinging his own hand forth to send a jagged piece of stone hurtling toward the distracted Filutis. Blood exploded when it struck the Boar, near-to severing him in two. Betana flung his own barrage of stone but Tarvilus deflected it with his a raised hand, the pieces crashing into the walls behind him, even as the force drove him back.

  “Is this your best, brother?” Marinus called. He spun on the remaining Skeletal Guardians and Rael grew dark. Each skeleton shuddered to a halt then crumbled to dust.

  Vinezi charged.

  Marinus simply stood, waiting. Beside him Betana tore his cloak free, breastplate aglow. “Careful,” Vinezi cried to his brothers as he slowed. The fool was Sinking himself!

  The glow quickly spread to incandescence. Vinezi shielded his eyes. When the light faded a slender figure of bone stood in the Wave’s place. The same body mass was present, only now Betana was taller, with long limbs and a pointed head – he had transformed himself into a creature of bone, Sinking into the bone in such a way as to sacrifice most of his humanity in exchange for great strength.

  Few Ecsoli could manage such a feat.

  Fewer dared.

  Tarvilus and Julas spread to circle the creature, which slashed out at them with its insect-like arms of sharpened bone.

  Stop. Let them fight their own battle, Vinezi told himself.

  You have a task to complete.

  Marinus strolled forward, Rael pulsing with red light. Vinezi flung rubble at his brother, while signalling for the final chant he’d had time to teach Abrensi, the Chant of Stone – to freeze Marinus in place.

  Again the Singer’s voice boomed across the temple.

  Yet it had no effect.

  Was even a single word wrong? Too late. Marinus was upon him. Vinezi threw a punch, his own mask glowing as he swung. Such a primal thing – almost a stupid attack, even enhanced as it was – considering his power. But how wonderful it would feel to actually strike his brother down... Marinus caught his fist, his gauntlet closing over Vinezi’s own. “Father should never have let you live after what you did to mother.”

  Vinezi ground his teeth. “And I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  “Little worm,” Marinus roared. “Where is the Crucible?”

  A scream filled the temple but he couldn’t look away. Who was it?

  Marinus’ grip trembled. The glow from Rael brightened as his brother attempted a Compelling – Vinezi fought to keep his legs straightened. His novatura pulsed as he struggled.

  Damn Marinus.

  Rael was stronger – even with the newer bone that made up Vinezi’s suit. Vinezi growled. It could not end this way. He had fought, died and returned to life and it wouldn’t be for naught. Not this time. Marinus had always been the favourite. Marinus had been afforded every advantage, every attention! The man had been given a Father – for Vinezi, the king was little more than a hollow figure of rage and then contempt and finally indifference.

  No.

  Vinezi pushed harder, and Marinus grunted – but the stand-off remained.

  Marinus drew forth a fox-shaped pendant and Vinezi gasped at the shift. Still Marinus was overpowering him. His brothers were occupied – maybe dead, and the Storm Signer was clearly useless.

  Only one gamble remained.

  Vinezi channelled all the power from his gauntlets and breastplate to his mask. Its blue glow intensified, then filled the bone like a spreading stain. Marinus pulled away; letting go as he became aware of Vinezi’s gambit – but Vinezi caught his brother by the wrist. “Stay,” he grinned, and with his free hand, tore the mask from his face and drove it into his brother’s chest.

 

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