He stopped, running a tongue over parched lips.

  If he ignored the path to safety, there was every chance he’d be abandoning Schan and Wayrn. If they’d reached the caves and were in danger, they needed him. It was surely less likely that the path pulling at him led to safety and Schan. No, the Sands were not that merciful.

  He turned away from the path that seemed to promise safety, that had done just that only last night, and set his thirsty steps for the Caves of the Mazu.

  ***

  Before dawn broke he collapsed beside a well, tearing at the coverings and heaving the bucket up where he dunked his face within. Coolness spread across his skin, tickling his ears as it trickled down the back of his neck. He swallowed a mouthful then slumped into the stone with a sigh, pushing back slick hair.

  Finally.

  He drank again as grey light grew around the depression. The path faded beneath his relief and he stood to turn a slow circle. Tanija’s caves could not be far now. A few of the ridges thrusting up from the stony ground were familiar in design if not specifics. Uneven ground was cracked and broken. Behind him, distant now, were echoes of the peaceful path, it’s urging all but gone.

  “Sands preserve me.” He took one more long drink, replaced the bucket and covered the well before resuming his journey.

  By mid-morning he was thirsty again, but he was smiling too. The slope before him wound down into the great crater protecting Tanija’s caves. Light fell halfway down the walls, shining into shadowed openings and leaving the very bottom dark. Veins of quartz caught the sun from where it wove through the walls, something he hadn’t marked during his last visit.

  Ain traced them with his eyes as he descended. Beautiful. His steps rang loud when he increased his pace; the almost-echo of the generations of feet beneath him of comfort. Were Schan and Wayrn already here? There were recent footfalls in the path. Tanija would have welcomed them, even Wayrn, probably.

  A bird screeched overhead, voice echoing. Not the Solave.

  He stopped. There were no other sounds.

  Ain drew his belt knife. Nothing about the path below appeared disturbed, yet why were there no sounds and not even a hint of movement? The first cave opening was some distance away yet. He stepped closer to the rock face and continued at a slower pace, drawing to a complete halt when he neared the opening.

  A faint buzzing came from within.

  Ain gripped his blade, inching closer. What if it was a darkling, lying in wait? No fear poured from the opening; it was all his own trepidation. Sands, he was a fool. Darklings didn’t buzz. Desert wasps, flies and even mosquitoes buzzed in the dark of night, but not the creature that devoured his horse.

  Look inside or flee, Ain.

  He leapt into the cave mouth. Shadow covered half the interior, a blank wall of rock and an open door. From inside the buzzing had been joined by an unpleasant odour. Slow, flickering light grew as he crept forward. Using the tip of his blade, he pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside – and wretched.

  Bodies.

  Covered in blood, torn, their faces were distorted in the dying lamplight. Filthy insects circled and crawled, tiny feet frantic as they swarmed around open wounds. He fell back, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Had their bones been protruding, as if erupting from the very flesh?

  He stumbled back onto the ramp, a shudder running the length of his body. The poor souls, had darklings come after all? Tanija had thought it safe, certain the Mazu were no more. It certainly appeared to be the sort of damage the creature would inflict. They had to be one and the same. Darkling and wisps of death.

  Ain wound deeper down the walkway, checking houses as he did. Most he did not enter, the sound of flies enough. One was empty save for a boy, his head shaven like the rest of his people, half his rib cage visible through his tunic. Ain forced himself through the doorway to draw the curtain, then continued on until he came to Tanija’s home.

  The door hung off a single hinge but no stench and no flies.

  Nor, he found as he walked through the empty rooms, any sign of life. He exhaled as he searched. They were alive, surely? A chair lay overturned and Tanija’s children had not drawn up the blankets on their beds, but nothing else was amiss. From the faint glow of embers in the stove he lit a wick for a lamp and headed down the passage opposite the entry.

  Everything was neat in the rooms where he and Schan had stayed. Ain slipped back into the passage and found its end. Another door – only this one of stone. According to Tanija, there were caves deeper beneath the earth, which led to Mazu symbols, carven columns, places the man’s grandparents explored but abandoned.

  Had something awoken in its depths? Did a chill seep from beneath the door? He pushed against it but it did not budge, even with his whole weight.

  Ain returned to the walkway and continued his search. The quiet was complete, again, only the scrape of his feet on stone. Yet new paths pulsed beneath him, their urgency becoming clear the lower he went. Not every home concealed bodies, just as many were empty. Some of Tanija’s people had survived. Or fled at the very least.

  But still he found no-one.

  Ain completed a circuit of the ground level, checking caves, only pausing to take water from a jug in one home and to eat a handful of nuts and a strip of salted meat in another. He hoped they’d forgive him. Here fewer caves contained bodies, yet many had stone doors hidden behind the living quarters.

  All were sealed but one.

  He pushed and stone ground on stone, revealing a black square of nothing. New paths surged into its darkness.

  Ain raised his lamp.

  Chapter 59

  Chelona’s face was taking on features.

  A fine nose and the shadow of eyes. The suggestion of a mouth even. The longer she held him, the better defined it became. At first, only the whisper of a line across the bottom of her face. A slight upturning for the nose.

  You are doing well, Little Oseto.

  “I never agreed to this, My Lady.”

  Your line did. Her voice grew hard. And when your immediate forebears begged that I pass them over for someone stronger, I agreed, knowing that you were indeed stronger of mind and of will, and knowing that you would soon come.

  “My father did what?”

  Offered you in his stead, and in that of your sibling. When you came of age, you were to begin this process.

  The old bastard – and coward!

  Or had the old fool been just as shocked to learn of a pact made decades, centuries before his birth? Seto should have known. “So, the blackouts were not rejections of me. You were trying to fulfil the contract.”

  When you lost me to the ocean I had thought to turn from your line. I admit, my first attempts to bring you here were clumsy, but I have developed a more gentle touch now.

  “My Lady, there must be a way to extend our arrangement.”

  There is not.

  Seto clenched his teeth. He’d started to sweat. “I am old.”

  You are young.

  “But my body is not, please, look closer. Remember, a human lifespan is not like a Greatmask’s. You would not have a long or fruitful life in my body.”

  Nothing.

  Her face continued to change. Were there hints for the whites of an eye now? “Chelona? My Lady?” His skin tingled, as if a hand caressed him.

  This is unacceptable! Her voice thundered in his mind.

  “I cannot change that, but there is a way. I could find someone else – someone young?” His stomach heaved. Proof that he was no better than his father.

  But he did not take his offer back.

  Such a bargain has been made before, Little Oseto.

  “If I lie you can take me – there must be some way you can monitor me perhaps? To follow me in my attempts.”

  Of course. Was she amused? If I agree, you understand only the line of Casa Swordfish is able to make the Sacrifice.

  “Blood of our line lives yet.”

  Then you will find them. And quickly, for your own life hangs in balance now. And if you do attempt a betrayal such as the one made by your father, my displeasure will fall upon you. I am watching.

  He shivered. “Yes, My Lady.”

  Chapter 60

  All around, amber oozed. Some of the flows glistened, and Sofia had to hop over trails without running into low-hanging branches. It was almost like a golden roof in places – and she even had to crawl at one point. Catrin herself grumbled when she first bent down. This deep in the grove the gardeners had not visited in some time, it seemed. Or maybe it was only days, who knew how fast the sap grew?

  “Most of this is fresh, be careful,” Catrin said.

  Sofia slid between the buried boxes. “How far now?”

  “Close.”

  “Is there another building hidden on this side of the grove?”

  “There is,” Catrin said. “Father has a room there.”

  They wove on between globs and trails of yellow, a faint rustle of leaves overhead, as the occasional free branch shifted.

  “Here,” Catrin said, moving aside and gesturing.

  Sofia nearly stumbled back into the sap. A large tree stood buried in amber, so thick that someone could have rested within it easily.

  And someone did.

  Her father stood encased in sap.

  He wore no under-mask and his face was set in a snarl, hands bunched into fists. His robe was half open, empty linfa-belt visible. Frozen.

  “No!”

  “He’s alive.”

  Sofia made a choking sound. How could it be true? It had appeared as though...“What?”

  “The Sap preserves him. If you move closer, you can hear his heart.”

  Sofia strode to the surface and strained her ear. At first, only the whisper of wind and Catrin’s shifting and then, finally, a faint thump. A long pause. Thump. His heart was still beating. Slowly, but he was alive.

  “See? He’s fine, let’s go now.”

  Sofia whirled. “What have you done?”

  “What we must. Father put him there as leverage weeks ago. He tried to escape too many times and we already had most of the information we needed.” She strode closer, a frown on her face. “But he’s alive and safe. What else do you want?”

  The blasted girl was bored. Catrin tapped her foot and there was even a little sigh. Sofia trembled. How dare she?

  She shoved Catrin. Hard.

  Caught off guard, the younger girl stumbled back into the sap with a cry. Sofia pounced. She swung her fist, knuckles cracking into the girl’s cheek. A shockwave flew up her wrist but she didn’t stop, pushing Catrin into the sap.

  Her captor struggled but her torso was already half-submerged.

  “Get me out,” she hissed, clawing at Sofia’s arms.

  Sofia stepped back. “No.” She caught one of Catrin’s flailing arms and shoved it into the sap. The edges caught Sofia’s skin and welts appeared when she tore herself free.

  Catrin’s face was red from strain, but her efforts were useless. The Sap had enveloped her up to the neck. Sofia leant close. “You’re getting off easy, compared to what I’m going to do to your father for this.”

  “Bitch! When I get out of here –“ Amber closed over her face and she was still.

  Sofia heaved a deep breath. “I’ll be long gone.”

  She moved back to her father and raised her hand, fingers hovering before the surface. “Just a little longer, Father. I’ll return.”

  She dashed through the trees, head swivelling down each row. Light grew in the forest, scraping the distant edges of the grove but as yet, no gardeners were about.

  Somehow, she had to find Argeon. Nothing else would work. She couldn’t face down all the Sap-Born and Braonn, Mor and Efran, while rescuing Notch, Emilio and Nia. Where was the Greatmask? She needed help.

  When the prison came into view, its grey blocks shadowed beneath trunks of the more ordered sap-trees, she circled to the rear. She took barely half a breath on her way. The back of the building was dark and thick with loam; damp leaves barely rustled beneath her feet.

  Two guards and a locked door. No windows.

  And she had no weapons. Only the Mask – which she couldn’t use.

  “Damn you, Osani.” If only he would respond.

  Shouting came from the trees. She tensed. It was Efran. Asking after her and his daughter. The guards explained and the man swore. “Go, search for them.”

  Footsteps receded.

  That took care of the guards. But how to enter the room? She waited a moment longer before slinking along the wall and peering round the stonework, the blocks chill against her shoulder. The backs of the guard and Efran were slipping into the grove, each moving in a different direction.

  She dashed to the door and tried it. Locked of course.

  Smash it down? There were only a few old branches nearby, each rotten and grey. A large stone poked from the loam. She brushed the leaves and dirt aside, heaving it from the earth.

  Sharp edges. Good. But it would make too much noise, surely? Maybe it didn’t matter, if she was fast. Sofia raised the stone over her head, elbows wobbling, then hurled it at the wood.

  A crack split the air. The stone bounced back to thud into the earth and a deep split was revealed in the door. Sofia leapt forward and kicked at it until a panel came free. She tore at the wood, jamming an arm inside to fling a bar free. The door swung open and she leapt into the room, shutting it as best she could before spinning to the shocked faces of her friends.

  “We have to hurry.”

  “How did you escape?” Notch asked. She ran to his side and tore at the ropes. Too tight. She swore. “Efran’s daughter took me into the grove to show me Father. He’s alive but he’s trapped in the Sap.” She faltered. “I don’t know how we’re going to get him out.”

  “Argeon,” Emilio said.

  “If I can find him.” She thumped a fist against her thigh. “I need something sharp.”

  “There.” Notch gestured with his chin. Against the wall stood a stand of knives, some with serrated edges, some with hooks. None appeared pleasant. She snatched one up and sliced through the ropes, freeing them one at a time.

  As they rubbed feeling into their limbs, she checked on the door. So far, no-one approached. But how long did they have?

  “I don’t know –”

  Shouts. Too late. She spun. “Nia, can we escape out the back?”

  “I can’t use my powder on stone.”

  Notch armed himself, tossing a blade to Emilio then Nia. “We have to get out, one way or another.” He strode forward.

  “There’s too many,” Sofia stopped him.

  “Then we’ll lead them away – Emilio, go with Sofia. Find the mask and free her father. Circle around to the hollow. If we’re not there, we’ll be heading east.” He glanced at Nia.

  “East,” she affirmed.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Sofia said. “We should stay together.”

  “We don’t have time. And we can’t fight the whole Grove. The best chance is to lead them away. Nia?”

  “I know a place,” she said, joining him at the door. Notch glanced over his shoulder, meeting Emilio’s eyes.

  “I’ll look after her,” the Captain said.

  He nodded and burst from the room. Emilio was on Nia’s heels and Sofia leapt into the rising sun. Notch and Nia struggled with Sap-Born, ducking and slashing. One man went down and another pulsed, but Nia stopped him with a burst of powder.

  “Go,” Notch roared, fending off another blow. At any minute, dozens of men would pour from the larger building. “Sofia, go. Your father needs you.”

  She blinked back tears as Emilio dragged her away, behind the prison and into the trees. They slid down a slope, feet tearing the loam. At the bottom, he pulled her along a game trail, circling back toward the large building. She glanced over her shoulder as they climbed, but Notch and Nia were lost in the trees. Emilio bunkered in the undergrowth, waving her down with him.

  “We can’t waste this chance.”

  “I know.”

  That Notch and Nia might buy it with their lives was a thought she kept unspoken, though it remained between them. Why did Notch have to be so stubborn? But Father needed her too. She ground her teeth and peered through the leaves.

  Dozens of Sap-Born now poured from the building. Once they stopped, she waited a moment before touching Emilio’s shoulder. “Ready?” He crossed the small clearing to press himself up against the wall then waved her over, using the heavy, curved blade he’d taken from the torturer’s rack.

  He ducked beneath the windows and she followed, keeping low. At the door Emilio paused.

  “I’m going to move quickly. Let me deal with any remaining men, My Lady.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” He glanced around and she followed his gaze. No-one. “Where am I going?” he asked.

  “Upstairs. Efran has a room there.”

  “And Argeon is inside?”

  “I hope so.”

  He frowned but said only, “And I. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He shoved the door open and sprang into the room. Two men looked up from where they stood, stringing bows. Before they could draw weapons, Emilio had leapt across the room. His superior reach was all the advantage he needed. His knife whipped out and tore through one man’s throat. Catching the second man’s wrist, he pulled the fellow close enough to drive his head into the man’s nose. A crunch put a stop to the glow in the Sap-Born’s veins, as he fell back with a curse, yellow blood pouring down his face.

  Emilio’s knife cut his voice short.

  He dashed for the stairs and Sofia climbed after him, her own blade held ready.

  “That door,” she pointed, once they’d reached the landing.

  He tried the handle but shook his head before stepping back to give it a kick. Splinters flew. Inside lay austere furniture and a large mirror, its edges lined with paintings of trees and interlocking circles. At the foot of the bed lay a small chest and a cupboard crossed a corner. Emilio tore open the doors, but she saw only clothes over his shoulder.

 

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