Page 63 of Crown of Wings (Fang & Fire #2)

W e land in a lake of powder, surrounded by utter silence. Whether Gent had known our landing would be so soft before he threw us here is anyone’s guess, but I come up coughing and spitting, my nose, my eyes, my mouth filled with the soft, heavy texture of…whatever this is.

“It’s not even sand,” Fortiss grunts, plowing his hands through it. He’s kneeling on the far edge of this shallow basin, looking far tidier than me. “It’s like the accumulated molt of centuries.”

“Not helping,” I cough, dragging myself across the depression as if I’m slogging through a silty sea. I finally reach the other side, and he hands me up—then helps me shuck the worst of the ash from my hair and face.

I narrow my eyes at him as I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “How did you manage to miss all this?”

He grins and cocks a thumb toward the rocky shelf above us—where his cape is hanging.

“It got twisted up around my face, and I didn’t have time to fight it off.

Then I hit and rolled, and I was glad for it.

You just landed a little short.” He makes a face.

“Had a bad moment when I couldn’t get the thing off me, but at least once I could, I could see. ”

“Uh huh.” I continue dusting myself off as he squints around him.

“It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, and it’s true.

There’s no indication at all of the full-on war happening just over the mountains.

“If this is everything that the Western Realms has to offer, then I’m not sure Tennet was wrong.

Maybe that wall was just built to keep them from coming to us .

Who would ever want to live here on purpose?

It’s hot here, too, you notice that? Far hotter than the other side of the wall. That can’t be good for growing things.”

He has a point. Whereas the mountains leading up to the Unlit Pass are craggy and perilous, they’re also filled with ravines of vines and trees, cheery waterways, birds and animals.

But there’s nothing here. It’s a kingdom of stone and ash.

Beyond the wide landing pit that could have been a small lake at one time, there’s rocky shale broken by several passageways that look like they were naturally formed that way.

Everything is heaped with dust, scree, and ash, and though the moon shines as brightly and the sky is as clear, it seems like we’ve been dropped into an empty dreamscape—as if nothing ever grew here and nothing ever would.

“Is it some sort of prison?” I brush my hand through a pile of dust from the ledge beside me, aimlessly creating a small, conical tree on the shelf of rock.

Beneath the thick layer of silt is grooved stone.

My fingers catch on the rough edges, and I pull my hand back sharply. I don’t need my fingers lacerated.

“Yeah, I’d glove up again,” Fortiss says as if he’s reading my mind. “If we can get to some water we can clean you up more, but you look fine as long as you can breathe.”

Together we stand but hesitate even still. “Why did Gent want us to come here?” Fortiss asks. “There’s nothing here.”

I grimace. “Well, there’s something here, I think…”

My words are cut off as a boom of thunder sounds overhead, startling me.

I search the sky. It has the heaviness of an imminent rainstorm, but there are no clouds—at least no clouds that I can see.

Still, I can’t say that I mind the opportunity for an impromptu bath.

I pull my gloves off again and shake more dust out of my hair, turning my head up as the first drops of water spatter the rock beside me.

A hail of fiery, glowing projectiles hurtles out of the darkness and plows into the lake of dust, whirling, churning, and bursting back out without hardly slowing down.

“Watch out!” Fortiss shouts, but the half-dozen hummerlets barrel toward us like wild dogs who have spotted their next meal, knocking us backward into the shallow impression of our cave.

They hurry, harry, and bully us back as the skies officially open up and rain sheets down with sudden, violent fury.

“I need to get cleaned off !” I insist, but the moment I try to push my way past the hummerlets and out to the open rainstorm, I set off another flurry of rejection, and I’m forced to watch, bitterly, as the rain pours down, the hummerlets keeping raucous guard as they hover and hop in the entryway of the cave.

“Hey, there’s fresh air back here,” Fortiss says, his voice floating towards me from the gloom. “I think there’s a way through.”

“Or we could wait until this rain passes and climb to the top of the ridge and actually get a good view,” I grumble. “And maybe there’ll be some actual water there, after this rain.”

“We could, but we could also go a little bit of a distance underneath the mountain with one of these hummerlets showing us the way? In case we need the light?”

He asks the question hopefully, and the nearest two hummerlets bounce up and down with clear approval.

They dart up to the ceiling of our small cave, showing that it’s actually arched in a smooth bowl, and down into the entryway.

There they hover, glowing brightly, clearly happy to be of service.

Fortiss and I, however, can do little more than stare.

“What is this place?” he murmurs.

The back of our shallow cavern doesn’t simply boast a rude passageway cut by time into the rock, but a rounded archway framed with intricate symbols of no language I’ve ever read. “Is this the language of the Western Realms?” I ask. “Can you read it?”

“It is, and I can’t, not really. I’ve barely had time to open the few books I kept back from the supply we sent into the Blessed Plane.” He makes a face. “How confident are we that we can find those books again?”

“About as confident as we are that we can get out of here in one piece. But the Divhs can come and go apparently, so…that gives me hope. Still, this isn’t some random cave, Fortiss. This is—or was —somebody’s home. I don’t think they’re still here, though.”

He snorts. “I suspect that’s highly unlikely.”

One of the hummerlets scoots by us and darts down the passageway. Other than piles of silt, there’s nothing there. No hangings, no wood, nothing but stone walls. But Fortiss isn’t wrong. The air is fresh here, or as fresh as I imagine it ever gets in this land of rock and dust.

A chirping flutter draws our attention back to the mouth of the cave, or not a cave at all, I see now, as the hummerlets swirl around the space.

The walls are smooth and there are more painted inscriptions, and soft grooves frame the doorway.

I think about the grooved stone outside. Was that some kind of ledge? A bench?

“The rain stopped. That was quick.” Fortiss takes a step towards the cave door, then back towards the interior opening. “Which way?”

I blink at him, realizing the question is an honest one. Fortiss wants my opinion—honors it, depends on it. His gaze sharpens when I don’t answer right away, then his mouth flickers into a grin. “You wear your emotions on your face, Lady Talia. You know that, right?”

“Fortiss…” I don’t need to say anything more. He moves to me in three short strides, folding me in his arms. With just that simple gesture, the muck and chaos of battle seem to fall away from me, spinning into the air like another fine coating of ash.

I chuckle a little grimly against his chest, reveling for another second more in the thrum of our matching heartbeats. Then I lean back and narrow my eyes at him. “Just how much magic are you wielding right now?”

“None.” He looks down at me, then leans forward, brushing his lips over mine as a flare of energy zips along my skin. “Okay, maybe a little. Is it working?”

“It’s…yeah.” I push him away, and he rocks back on his feet, his smile seeming like the only bright thing that could possibly exist in this kingdom of gray.

I shake my head, not willing to think too much on my own luck quite yet, given how quickly that luck can change.

“We should get our bearings, I think. Let’s see what’s out there. ”

This time, the hummerlets offer no complaint as we head to the opening of the cave.

We step out into the moon-swept plain and everything seems…

far cleaner. The dust has settled, the lake smooth and slightly cupped, as if it was subtly drained during the quick rainstorm.

I frown, heading toward it, when Fortiss’s hand snaps out and grabs me by the bicep.

“Talia,” he whispers. I glance at him sharply, then turn to see what has so captured his attention.

The cone of dust that I had so carefully formed on the ledge is still there, which ordinarily wouldn’t be much of a surprise…except for how it’s changed.

“That can’t be right.” Never taking his hand from my arm, Fortiss moves us across the entryway to the cave until we’re right next to the small cone, no larger than the size of my palm.

When we reach it, he leans forward and plucks it up off the ledge with his gloved hand, turning it over in his palm before offering it to me.

I hurriedly replace my own glove and take it from him. It’s solid stone.

“What is this?” I whisper.

Fortiss doesn’t reply, but strides toward the edge of the ash lake, hesitating only briefly before stepping out onto it. I can hear the clunk of his boots on its hard surface.

“It’s solid. Solid stone. Like cement.” He taps his boot experimentally, and a dull thud echoes around the shallow bowl. “All that ash and dust in this basin…you add the slightest bit of water, and, with this heat, it turned to solid cement in barely a quarter hour.”

I stare down at the cone, weighing it in my hand. “We were covered in that dust, especially me. If I’d been outside when it started raining…”