Page 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

We stare up at the facade of the Temple of Wasianth. “Well?” I ask Arimen. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

He nods, and I can tell by the rapturous joy on his face that I’m probably not going to get coherent words out of him.

I look back at the building, and I have to admit, even weather-worn and with the stone crumbling, there’s something about it. It’s not trying to be ostentatious and pretentious like some of the newer temples. This isn’t a display of power or wealth—aside from the full-height doors and the stone carving of Wasianth’s face above the lintel, the building is quite plain. But it feels… comfortable. That’s an odd word, but it’s the one that pops into my head. It's almost homey, somehow.

The whole city, despite its desolate emptiness, has that same feeling. This must have been an incredible place when it was populated. Aside from the beauty of the view over the lake and the care taken with the architecture, this place has a sense of being magical, somehow. I’m completely aware of how ridiculous that sounds, since I’m a mage and I can say with complete assurance that no place can have magic. People have the ability to use kinetic energy and magic—Talent, we call it. Places, not so much. But something about this city is special. It’s empty, falling down, and lacking in any of the comforts I hold dear, but it feels more like home to me than anywhere other than the academy—including my actual home where I grew up.

I might talk to Jaimin about this later. Could there be something in the water here, maybe? He tested it, so it’s safe to drink, but perhaps the mineral composition is similar to that at the City of Knowledge, and that’s what’s making me feel so comfortable. My senses are associating this place with home because the water is the same.

That theory probably won’t hold up to much scrutiny, so I’m going to move past it.

“Let’s go inside,” I suggest, taking Arimen’s elbow and leading him forward. I’m worried that if I don’t get us moving, he’ll be happy to stand here and stare for the rest of the afternoon. I’m also surprisingly hot in the sun—it’s a clear day, and the hills and buildings block any hint of breeze. Coryn thinks we might get something off the water toward evening, but after having hiked up the unmaintained roads to the top of the hill to see where Leicht was, I’m stripped down to my shirt and pants and missing the biting wind that’s been our constant companion on this journey.

I expected the tall doors might be sealed shut, or at least stuck after so many years. Nearly every other building we’ve seen has had open doors or nothing at all, the wood long since rotted away. The temple doors are closed and only a little worn. I guess being so deeply inset into the front of the building gave them some protection. Plus, as big as they are, they’d take a lot longer to decay.

But we’ve noticed signs of squatters and scavengers all over the city, so to me, the fact that the temple’s doors are closed means that they were somehow locked. Surely otherwise they’d be open like all the others? So I’m prepared to use a little magic, if necessary, to force them open. Arimen wants to commune with his god, and it seems only fair to give him this tiny favor, since he’s been trying hard to do his part.

“Are you sure we should go in?” he whispers as I put my free hand on the door.

“Yes. It’s a temple. We’re supposed to go inside them. That’s why they were built—to give us a central location to speak to the gods.” That was the reason originally, anyway, when the gods walked among us. It was much easier to find them and tell them about your problems if they weren’t just staying with random friends all the time. After they left the corporeal world, the temples became the place to find the priest and meditate to feel closer to the gods, or learn about them. The modern idea that temples should only be accessible to certain people or at certain times has been a topic of a great deal of debate at the academies.

Arimen doesn’t look convinced, but I give the door a firm shove to ascertain how much magic it’s goi?—

I stumble forward as the door easily swings open without even a creaky hinge. What the fuck? Arimen races to steady me, and when I’m finished cursing at the door, we turn in unison to peer into the temple.

Light floods in from behind us, but also from the long-shattered skylights high overhead. The whole interior is sunny, despite its size, and it takes me a moment to spot the cleverly positioned mirrors that bounce light around.

The interior is mostly bare, with only the fixtures and items that were too heavy and not valuable enough to transport remaining, but somehow it doesn’t feel empty. One wall has a stone relief of Wasianth, surrounded by stone benches. I can see tattered remnants of fabric on the benches, which I guess once were cushions for people to sit on.

My gaze goes to Wasianth’s face. Most of the modern depictions of the gods show them as being solemn, but the very old ones have more personality. The drawings and statues from the time when the temples weren’t concerned about power are, in my opinion, truer to the natures of the gods, and this is a prime example. I’ve always thought Wasianth must be an easygoing kind of god, because in the stories he’s so laid-back, and the older artworks show him with an ever-present grin. The carving here is no exception—his lips are curved into a smirk, but even in stone, his eyes are kind, inviting everyone to be in on the joke.

“What are you smiling at?” Arimen asks, breaking into my thoughts, and I shake my head.

“Nothing. I—uh, this place is nicer than where we slept last night. Maybe we should stay here tonight.” Aside from the missing glass in the skylights, the roof seems to be intact, and the doors are a definite bonus.

“It feels good here, doesn’t it?” He wanders off toward Wasianth, leaving me to think about that. It does feel good here. Even more comfortable and homey than the rest of the city. Could this place be the source of it? Arimen said it was reputed to be Wasianth’s favorite place in the world—could there be some residual god-happiness here to make it seem so nice?

My god-obsessed young charge is sitting on one of the benches, gazing adoringly up at the stone relief, so I take the opportunity to wander around the temple and reach out to my Master.

“Talon,” he says in surprise. “Is everything well? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.” I reached out to him the night before to update him on our arrival in Caimae and let him know what the stone had said—which, other than that our new companion knows where we’re going, was nothing. It refused to answer any further questions on the topic. He was concerned about me after yesterday’s news, but I made it clear I wasn’t dealing with that right now. The best thing I can do for Drey and all of them is to complete my mission.

“We’re all fine,” I assure him. “Still waiting for a new friend to appear. Jaimin thinks he can sense them, but his ability doesn’t work well for tracking. Especially when the person is in good health.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Master concedes, though he sounds as annoyed about it as I am. “What can they be waiting for, I wonder?”

I grimace. “I was thinking about that—what if they don’t know yet that they’re supposed to join us? They might know where to go next once they’re aware of the need to go there, but ? —”

“But not have the necessary information yet,” Master finishes. “I wish the stone would be more forthcoming. It can be stubborn sometimes.”

I heroically refrain from pointing out that I’ve been saying that all along. As well as some other relevant things.

“Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. Arimen and I are in the temple.” I explain the feeling of homecoming I’ve been having and posit my theory that it might be due to Wasianth’s fondness for this place. “What do you think? I know the gods aren’t your area of expertise, but is that possible? A godly residue or stain of sort that would influence the emotions of others?”

He's silent for a long moment. “I suppose it would be possible,” he finally says slowly. “But—and I’m not certain of this. I’d want to consult with some colleagues—I think it would need to be deliberate. You said Arimen feels the same? What about the others?”

“I haven’t asked them,” I admit, sticking my head through a doorway into an empty room that looks like it might have been used for storage. “I have some time while Arimen is praying or whatever, and I thought I’d ask your opinion. It’s not really important.”

“I’m so glad you have time to think about unimportant things on this little jaunt.” That note of concern is back in his voice, but I’m ignoring it.

“Sarcasm is not becoming, Master. Besides, if I thought only about important things right now, I’d be a blubbering mess of nerves.”

His surprised laughter echoes through my head and then fades as he cuts the connection between us, and I glance toward the door. The light has started to fade—not a lot, but since we’re in a city we don’t know well, it’s enough that we shouldn’t linger for long. Coryn wanted to move us to a more secure building, and this is as good as any.

Now I just need to drag Arimen away from communing with Wasianth.

We’re only two streets away from the temple when the stone’s alarm blasts through me, followed by the faint sound of shouting.

“Fuck!” I grab Arimen’s arm and break into a run. “They need?—”

A man drops into the road six feet in front of us, and we skid to a stop. Pushing Arimen behind me, I reach for my magic and study the man closely. He looks completely ordinary except for the extreme blankness of his expression.

Zombie.

“Stay back,” I tell Arimen. If Coryn and Jaimin are pinned down themselves, they won’t be able to help, so this is all on me.

Waning daylight reflects off the zombie’s sword as it comes closer, moving like a living human but still oddly blank and silent, and I reach out to Leicht.

“I’m on my way,” he assures me. “The buildings are a problem. Can you get back up to the aerie or down to the lakeshore?”

“Don’t worry about us. I need you to be my eyes—can you see the others?” I can still hear them yelling, and I hate not knowing what’s happening.

The zombie suddenly lunges at me, and I slam a telekinetic wall in the way of its blade, then wonder why I’m bothering with it. I blast it with magefire.

“I can see them,” Leicht confirms as Arimen and I watch the zombie batter its blazing fists against the invisible barrier between us as it gruesomely burns to ash. “They are besieged but holding their own.” The sound of his wingbeats fills the air as he swoops lower. “They are now in control for the time being. The zombie pieces keep attempting to attack.”

“Yeah, I’m on my ? —”

“Talon?” The fear in Arimen’s voice has me spinning quickly to see three zombies approaching from the direction we came.

“Behind you!”

Magefire is blooming from my hands even as I turn back, Leicht’s warning ringing in my head. Another five zombies converge, and three of them were not freshly dead when they were raised. The smell of rotting flesh precedes them, but even without it, I’d be able to tell.

Eight on one. Okay. I sweep magefire toward them, then grab Arimen and push him toward the nearest building. “Get your back against a wall,” I shout. The magefire should tip the odds in my favor, but with this many of them and the way they keep trying even while dying, there’s a chance one of them might reach us.

I don’t know what would happen then.

Leicht’s scream of fury echoes off the buildings around us as I aim fire at the nearest zombie. If we weren’t right in the middle of the enemy, I’d be telling him to burn the whole city down with dragon fire, and I can tell that’s what he wants. His frustration is burning through me.

I sweep two more zombies with magefire, then blast some toward a third, but I miss . Fucking turds, how could I miss? I don’t have the energy to waste on misses.

This zombie is fast, too, and even though the next blast gets it, I have to shove Arimen along the wall to avoid being grabbed. The moment of distraction is our undoing, and blades flash within reach in the next second… and a hand? Is the zombie trying to grab me? Why?

I put the question out of my mind and focus. The heat of the magefire surging from me is unbearable this close, and I’m eternally grateful that it will only burn its target. Otherwise, we’d be defenseless.

A random blade catches my arm, and I choke back a scream, intensifying the flame in that direction. Why haven’t they all burned yet? Are there more ? Where are they coming from?

A yell carries to me over the crackle of the flames. I don’t know if it’s one of my friends or a human enemy, but I can’t stop to check. My priority has to be keeping me and Arimen alive. Gritting my teeth, I ignore the pain in my arm, ignore the wetness along my skin, and the way I can’t bend my elbow anymore, and focus on?—

The zombies are gone.

Blinking away sweat, I realize that’s not right. Some of the zombies are gone, piles of ash at my feet. The rest of them are wriggling, dismembered piles on the cobblestones, blood dripping on them from the point of a sword.

My gaze travels up the length of the sword. It’s not Coryn’s—the shape and size are wrong, designed for one-handed use instead of two. The hand on the hilt is smaller and slimmer than Coryn’s, though even from here, it looks just as callused and scarred.

I lift my eyes to the stranger’s face. Something about their manner makes me reluctant to assign them a binary gender, even in my own head. They’re watching me intently, and even though their sword isn’t pointed at me, I don’t assume it couldn’t skewer me in a heartbeat. I’ve seen that expression before—my swordmaster used to wear it, and so did Tia. Coryn. It’s the expression of a fighter who hasn’t let down their guard.

As if to prove me right, the sword slashes in a lightning-fast movement, and the arm that was creeping toward me loses its hand at the wrist.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mage?” the stranger says, their voice a mellow, mid tone. They have a light accent I don’t recognize, but I can puzzle that out later.

“Of course,” I croak. My throat is parched from the heat of the fire, but that’s not important. I incinerate the remaining zombie parts, keeping half my attention on the stranger, taking in as much detail as I can. Dark hair, somewhere between my mid-brown and Jaimin’s black. The front is pulled off their face in a braid, but the back is loose, and the stick-straight locks brush their shoulders. Brown eyes, smooth tawny skin, and a hooked, blade-thin nose that keeps their otherwise almost delicate face interesting. If they try to kill us, at least Leicht will have a description.

“I’ll know who I’m looking for, and that’s what’s important.”

Personally, I think me staying alive is the important part, but now isn’t the time to argue.

“W-Who are you?” Arimen asks shakily. I want to look at him, get visual confirmation that he’s okay, but there’s no way I’m taking my eyes off the stranger. They might have helped us, but I don’t know who they are or why they’re here.

Though I have a strong suspicion.

“I could ask you the same thing,” they say. “Why would those men who seemingly don’t die attack a mage? And what’s a mage even doing here in the dead city?”

“The floating city ,” Arimen corrects, missing the point entirely. He must be okay, though, if that’s what he’s fixating on. “The people here didn’t all die, you know.”

The stranger blinks, then looks at me as though asking if he’s serious. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” my na?ve friend insists. “They left . Because of drought.”

I sigh and shake my head. “He’s young,” I say by way of explanation. “We’re just passing through. This seemed like a good place to rest for a few nights.” I deliberately don’t say anything about the attack.

The wary expression shifts into disbelief. “How does one ‘pass through’ a city that’s famous for being inaccessible… and abandoned?”

“On horseback,” I reply blandly. “And why are you here?”

“Just passing through. Is that dragon yours?”

“Dragons are sentient and a highly independent species. They don’t belong to anyone.”

Their eyes narrow. “Mages can’t bond with dragons anyway.”

“That’s what they teach us,” I agree. “Personally, I’ve never tried.” That’s the absolute truth.

“Perhaps there’s a dragon rider with your group.”

I fight the instinctive wince as my loss hits me afresh. There’s supposed to be a dragon rider with us, dammit. And it’s not supposed to be me. “No,” I say flatly, and they immediately pick up the change in tone, posture stiffening.

There’s a little pause, and Arimen shifts restlessly beside me. Either this is the most coincidental encounter that ever was, and this person really is just a stranger who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they’re the person we’re here to meet and we’re both too wary to give away our hand.

Luckily for me, I can cheat. Is this our new traveling companion? I ask the stone.

~Yes~

Heaving a sigh of relief, I say, “I’m Talon Silverbright, and this is Arimen…” Uh. I don’t think I ever asked Arimen the rest of his name. Tia would be so ashamed of me.

“Arimen Loordine,” he supplies. “Hi.”

“Peiris.”

That’s it. Just the one name, nothing else. But then, they don’t have the source of all creation sending them waves of reassurance.

“Nice to meet you, Peiris. I’m not sure how much you know, but we’re here to meet you.”

Instead of looking shocked, like I expected, they tilt their head in challenge. “Oh? You have the wellspring?”

That throws me off-balance for a moment, until I remember something I learned as a second-year student. The accent, the features… referring to the stone as the “wellspring.” They’re from the Baswich Empire.

“Yes. Do you want me to show you?”