Chapter 38: Passage

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Vantra peeked into the torch-lit room at the bottom of the scuffed stone stairs that Rayva had taken, the sense of ancientness striking her. The pale orange walls had smooth, table-sized stone blocks between pilasters that ran to the ceiling, all weathered to the point that only faint lines distinguished them. True flames, not magic-inspired baubles, sat in pitted sconces placed in the center of each one. Friezes near flush with the wall topped them, the worn centers hinting at long-eroded sculpture.

On the left, stood a single table with an inkwell and pen, a couple of yellowing pages, and a stout, unremarkable wooden chair. Three tarnished golden hoops, keys stuffed onto them, hung from wrist-large nails hammered into the rock next to a wine rack with bottles and scratched glasses on top.

Six cells sat against the walls, yellow magic encasing them, palm-sized, magic-imbued locks keeping the doors shut. Kjaelle leaned against the bars of the nearest, Katta’s head in her lap, eyeing the strewn hay with contempt. Red lounged in the cell across from them, right lower arm propped up on his raised knee, swinging his hand absently. The confinement next to his contained the four nomads who kept their emotions behind blank façades, and opposite them rested a resigned Vesh and awe-struck Lorgan. Mera and half of Rils’ people huddled in one of the final cells, Tally and the rest in the other. The twins appeared more cheerful than everyone else, and she pondered why.

She also wondered how they decided who got pushed into which cell. Why was Red alone? Why smoosh all the caravan employees together?

“I still don’t understand how Vantra did that,” Lorgan said, amazement tinging his tone. “I couldn’t sense her at all.”

“Sun’s Reflection?” Red said, then smiled. “Or maybe she uses the Sun’s Color, which magically reflects all light or absorbs all light. Ga Son was messing around with that when he realized the intimate link between Darkness and Light. That would fit her abilities well.”

Would it? She had no idea. The transparency discovery, an exhaustion-induced act of misjudged power, never struck her as an appropriate, intentional spell. She supposed she needed to speak with the mini-Joyful about it after they escaped confinement, though what she might tell them eluded her. She had no grand explanation or intricate knowledge to relate.

She studied the room but did not notice a soul other than the captives. Good.

Wet nose prodded her; she looked at Rayva, who lifted her muzzle at the keys, and nodded. She must sense no one either. Ignoring the tingle in her essence that combined the thrill of discovery with the happiness they spoke about her in a positive way, she crept to the keys.

“It’s an incredible spell,” Lorgan said. “Why didn’t she mention it?”

“If you were trained by Nolaris, would you?” Kjaelle asked, her sarcasm thick and juicy.

“Um, well, no.”

“Just ask her,” Red said. “Hey, Vantra, what spell are you using to turn invisible?”

She had not quite grabbed the hoops, but froze, keenly aware of all eyes on her. She flicked a look at the grinning Light acolyte, then snagged them, the jangling less quiet than prudent.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Lorgan asked, pressing against the bars as she scampered to Katta and Kjaelle’s cell and attempted to stick a key in the lock. It shuddered and sparks flew. She stumbled back, avoiding the stinging flecks.

Wrong one. She set a shield around her hands, grabbed the hoop, yanked the key free, and tried another.

“It’s something I discovered by accident,” she murmured, starting as more sparks erupted from the second wrong one. “I thin my essence and I hide.”

“Thin your essence?” Red pulled his mouth down in thought. “Interesting. So you’re playing with your Ether form rather than manipulating magic? Hmm. Is that why you curled around Laken? Kinda like a shield?”

“I guess.” She tried three more keys before the right one turned; she unlocked the door and trotted to Red’s cell. What could distract him from asking more uncomfortable questions? “Makerid discorporated the soltress.”

“Ghost have done stupider things,” Red said drily. “The acolyte who brought us water said the stronger Sun acolytes already left for Black Temple. The soltress doesn’t have the magic to make him behave, but that shouldn’t matter. Ga Son won’t be happy about the violation.”

Vantra nodded. “I prayed, and he revitalized her and the injured acolytes.” The sixth key unlocked his cell, and she moved to the nomads’ confinement. “Salan wasn’t happy he attacked them, either.”

Red swung the door open and snagged Laken from Rayva before fluffing her fur. “Did Salan go after him?” The vulf whuffled and he sighed, looking at the ceiling in exasperation. “He knows better.”

“I despise the Finders like Makerid,” Lorgan said, a dark weight in his words. “Their bad behavior can make Redemptions for the next Finder the Void’s work.”

She unlocked the cell and hopped to Vesh and Lorgan’s. “Maybe, but in this case, I think it’s working in our favor. When the soltress first entered the chapel, she spoke to her acolytes about an underground passage to the ruins.”

Everyone perked up at that.

“From here?” Lorgan asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“I think so. She asked where they tied the dogs up, and an acolyte said near the northern Ascendancy, at the twisted tree. They sent someone to watch them, because the last time the dogs were there, they escaped into the underground passage that runs to the ruins, and it took days to find them.”

“So they’re helping us in a roundabout way,” Red nodded as the lock clicked. “So we’ll be looking for a twisted tree to the north. I doubt the Ascendancy is far. The soltress doesn’t seem like someone who’d travel far for religious conviction.”

What did he mean by that? She unlocked Mera’s cell and headed to Tally’s as Laken’s voice rose from the pack. “Just so you know, the Finders have some sort of device that can track Vantra. We hid near that stream, and they complained that it kept pointing to the desert rather than the wagons. They thought it was broken, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to use it again.”

“Track Vantra?” Lorgan frowned. “How would they specify her? I can see a device to target, say, the magic in Finder badges, but she doesn’t wear hers anymore.”

“My guess is they’re trying to sense Sun-touched magic because of course it would target Vantra and not a temple’s worth of ghostly acolytes.” Red’s sarcasm did not soothe her; she proved a danger to all who accompanied her. Mera and Tally’s combined laughter did not help; why find amusement in this?

A dusting of debris dislodged from the ceiling and pattered to the floor.

“Salan’s still fighting Makerid,” Vesh said, glancing at the doorway. “We need to help.”

“And Makerid won’t care about the wagons or the animals, if he’s willing to discorporate a soltress,” Mera fretted.

“Fyrij’s riding with Salan, too,” Vantra said, worry twittering through her as the final lock fell from the bars.

“He won’t let anything happen to our little avian.” Red rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “OK. We need to break into two groups. One heads with me, Vantra, and Laken to the Ascendancy tree, and the other supports Salan, gets the wagons back, and becomes our Finder distraction.”

Rils rocked back on his heels. “Well, me and mine are for the wagons,” he said. “We’ve experience sneaking in and out of places we shouldn’t be.”

“Good, we need that expertise in abundance. Since Kenosera knows the ruins, he’s with us.”

“Then I’m going to the ruins, too,” Lesanova said.

Dedari shook her head. “No. They have no supplies, no water. Neither of you should go. And what of your arm? You are favoring it.”

Anger rippled across her visage and Lesanova opened her mouth to protest, but Kenosera held up his hand and shook his head as well. She drooped and turned away, her hand rising, unbidden, to her upper right arm. She had said nothing about it paining her, but there had not been enough time between the Watermarket healer wrapping her up and their arrival at Sunbright for it to have completely healed.

Vantra tended to forget the living had issues ghosts no longer dealt with, and Lesanova behaved as if her arm was healed. Feeling low at her lack of compassion, she studied her feet, her fingers curling into her purple skirt.

“Katta and I are going to the ruins,” Kjaelle said.

“But Katta’s unconscious,” Kenosera protested, sweeping his hands to the still form.

“Not unconscious, just not here.” Red shrugged. Vantra noted everyone but the original mini-Joyful reflected her confusion at the statement. Not here? What did that mean?

“Besides, Kjaelle will make certain he doesn’t stumble around, maybe impale himself on a—”

“I told him I’m never going through that again,” she snapped.

Red’s rosy-cheeked grin threatened to break his face. “Lorgan, I assume you’re with us?”

“Yes.” Vantra doubted anyone could convince him otherwise.

“Mera, Tally, Vesh, help Salan and get the wagons out. If you have to backtrack, do it. Lead these jackasses astray. We’ll meet up at that rock spire near the ruins that Kenosera told us about.” He regarded the vulf. “Lady Rayva, what is your pleasure?”

The vulf smooshed her nose into his chest.

Red laughed and rubbed at the spot. “Great. Let’s go before some Finder sticks their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“But supplies—” Dedari began.

The room shook. Vesh glanced up and hissed before leaping up and phasing through the ceiling. Tally followed while Mera, Rils, and the rest of the wagon-bound ghosts rushed to the stairs. Red smacked his hands together and trotted from the room.

“But—” Dedari huffed in disbelief.

Kenosera patted her back and hastened after the ancient ghost. The Voristi snarled, then hustled to catch up. Lesanova, head down, shoulders slumped, shuffled in their wake, a worried Tagra at her side. Lorgan motioned for Vantra to precede him, and without a reason to protest, she did so.

The Sun acolytes were still in the nave. They circled a mobile fountain puffing mist into the air, but considering it was the size of a table, Vantra did not think it would re-energize many. Soltress Candara sat nearest, a cluster of ethereal wisps hovering over her, and by her annoyed expression, she wanted them to leave her be.

The ghosts heading for the wagons turned to Ether form and zipped to the entry, capturing the attention of the group. With a grumbling sigh, Red pranced up to them. Vantra did not think it a wise choice to confront them, and from Lorgan and Kenosera’s concern, neither did they.

Candara’s gaze riveted to her. “Thank you for your kindness. You could have left us at his mercy.”

She shook her head. “You should thank Salan. He cleared the nave.”

“Perhaps, but you prayed and received an answer. Our lord is kind, but he rarely involves himself in mortal affairs. How you convinced him, I don’t know, but—”

Ruvensusche,” Kjaelle said. The woman blinked, taken aback.

“That’s true. Sincerity goes a long way with Ga Son. So where’s this twisted tree?” Red halted three steps away from the soltress, cupping Laken’s pack against his chest.

She frowned, confused. If she expected respectful behavior from the mini-Joyful, the Final Death would claim her before those words reached her ears. She recovered her composure and swept her hand towards the right side of the altar. “The last alcove has a door leading to the gardens. Take the leftway worn path, which will lead out a gate and to the Ascendancy. It’s a domed building of ancient origin, made of the black stone the Nevemere are fond of. Behind it is a ruin, something left from a previous complex. Within is the tree, which guards the passageway.” Her gaze drifted to Laken. “Makerid claimed the ghost you Redeem is a great evil.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Laken snapped as Vantra bristled. A great evil? Who held that title but the Finders who pursued them? “But I’m not the one who discorporated you, am I?”

Candara shuddered and slapped a hand to her chest. Red snickered and readjusted his hold on the pack. “Before you accuse us of carting around an evil Candidate, perhaps you’d like to share why you allowed Makerid to harass your temple in the first place?”

She smashed her lips together, pert enough that if she had lived, wrinkles would surround her mouth in numbers.

“Oh, wait, did you think you were helping the Hallowed Collective? Were you expecting something more than contempt?”

“The Hallowed Collective is not our concern,” she hissed.

“It is now.”

“Qira, we need to go.” Kjaelle headed for the alcove, leading Katta by the hand. He stared blankly ahead, eyes half-lidded, shuffling rather than walking. Apprehension twisting around agitated unease settled in Vantra’s essence. What was wrong with him?

Corresponding to the elfine’s snappy suggestion, purple flared from the open entry. Vesh? Rayva whirled and whined; Red patted her shoulder as he passed. Kenosera finished a heated argument with the other nomads and raced to catch up while they remained rooted, glaring after him. Dedari slapped Tagra in the chest and tore after him; Lesanova took a step, but the other nomad held her back.

Vantra firmed her resolve and sped to the alcove, wanting to be out of the temple, refusing to admit the soltress’s statement distressed her.

Why would Ga Son refuse to help a high-ranking acolyte in desperate need?

Green and purple flares of brightness lit the garden’s litany of empty flowerbeds scattered among prickly trees. Kjaelle and Red did not seem bothered by the show, but Vantra could not snatch their confidence. Makerid was not one who cared who he hurt, including syim-blessed vulfen guardians and soltresses. What might he do to beings he considered even more inferior?

Rayva trotted to catch up to Katta; he reached out and stroked the vulf’s head, murmuring something low and unintelligible. She whuffled and edged into him, refusing to leave his side.

The wrought-iron gate was open, the hinges creaking in the wind gusts. The desert spanned away from them, dark and foreboding, contrasting the caress of wetness and freshness. Red produced a dim light and continued along the worn path as if he knew his way, though she suspected he noticed the domed structure before the rest of them. It rose four stories into the night sky, a darker black against the nighttime clouds. They skirted it, aiming for the vicious barking rising from its rear.

A vast ruin of tumbled orangy-yellow stone met her gaze. Most walls barely topped the knees, but some stood as tall as the day they were placed. Red headed to a cluster of those, which enclosed green-speckled soil and a gnarled tree that grew in the center, surrounded by wooden torches the height of street lights.

Tied to a stout metal bar with a round top were a dozen dusky-furred, fluffy shepherds lunging towards a still form and three ghosts who wavered just beyond their teeth, discussing a hand-held device with racing yellow lights. They pointed at and shook it, too involved to notice their arrival.

Rayva howled and charged; Salan was not the only impulsive one. Red cursed and tore after her as she barreled to the startled beings. Katta jerked his head up, then sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re not going to call her back?” Kjaelle asked as the vulf swatted at the hasty shielding protecting the three, shattering it like glass. Screams and a frantic rebuilding of their defenses ensued.

“No.” He slipped his hand behind his neck and rolled his head around. “She can send the lot to the Fields.”

The elfine raised her eyebrows at that. “You’re in a generous mood.”

“No moreso than that ass Makerid.”

“You’re worried about Salan?”

“No, but he and Rayva aren’t immune to injury, either. I don’t want to see them hurt.”

The vulf shattered shield after shield, and the ghosts struggled to keep ahead of her, replanting their protections and shrieking at each other about strategy. Vantra did not think he needed to worry about them injuring her during the attack. Red stood to the side, arms folded, resigned and grinning.

“Qira,” Katta warned.

“What?” He stretched, reaching for the sky, and dropped his arms with a huff. “Fine. Rayva, please back up.”

The vulf whirled and growled, menacing in her rejection of the command. He did not respond to the snarling and swept his hand before him; green swirled away, coating the outer shield. The ghosts immediately covered their noses and mouths and gagged, dropping the object and bending over. Rayva yipped and fled back to Katta, staggering and sneezing and shaking her head as if that might dislodge the smell from her nostrils.

Good luck. Vantra did not think ridding her nose of Red’s vile spell would prove that easy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Katta told the sad-eyed vulf as she reached him. “Qira asked you nicely, too.”

She snort-sneezed and swallowed her growl, then rubbed her nose on his pants, leaving a smear of snot behind. The Darkness acolyte winced in disgust as Kjaelle crowed with laughter.

Lorgan hurried to the enemy’s target and squatted next to them; the ghost wobbled between discorporation and remaining in Ether form. He set his hand on their back, and fed them enough energy to keep them extant and aware. The dogs ceased barking and whined while nosing at the acolyte.

“They need more help than I can provide,” Lorgan said.

“None of us are up to this,” Red agreed as he bent over and touched the ghost’s shoulder. A fleeting dusting of Light coated them; they gasped and sat up, their wispiness coalescing into the features of a young man dressed in a plain tan, sleeveless shirt and calf-length, ragged pants. He blinked rapidly, then flipped, jerking wildly around until he noted his attackers behind an oozy green shield, collapsing into essence puddles.

“What—”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine—eventually.” Red looked at the dogs and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Where’s this passage entry to the ruins?”

“Huh? Oh! Wait.” He moved about on his hands and knees, searching, then grabbed something that gleamed in the torchlight. “The key. The soltress said you’d be coming for the key.”

“Ah. Thanks.” Red lifted an eyebrow as he accepted the item, then squinted at it.

“The passage is there,” and the acolyte pointed to a portion of the far wall that had collapsed. Beyond were even taller walls with arched openings that once held windows, but Vantra could see nothing near the shadowy ground. “It goes to the Snake’s Den ruins. That key’s to a gate at the other end. The soltress asked that you return it because we don’t have many. It’s an old gate spelled with Sun Select, and it’s one the vi-van don’t know about. The ruins have an ancient Sun Needle, and we visit to make certain the vi-van haven’t destroyed it. You know, because of Darkness and all.”

Darkness and all? Red did not respond, but hustled to the gap. Lorgan eyed the device and Kjaelle braved the icky green to retrieve it. She looked as if she touched a slimy thing as she shoved it at the scholar. He juggled it while the others raced after the ancient ghost.

Vantra hung back and smiled. “Thank you,” she told the acolyte. The dogs whuffled and swarmed over her, sniffing and gruffing and jumping up to lick her. His surprise at their response annoyed her, but she did not have time to discuss their acceptance and scurried with Lorgan to the hole.

The tunnel entrance rested in the remains of a room whose windows were so tall, Vantra decided they must have once been part of a chapel. Orange-tinged, brown soil mounds rested along the right-hand side, while an earthy overhang protected a yawning hole to the upper left. Bushes and green plants grew everywhere, in contrast to the duller flora of the surrounding desert. A slanted decline led into darkness.

She did not want to go in.

“Oooh, as dark as your soul, Katta!” Red snickered. The Darkness acolyte did not have to respond; Rayva barred her teeth and growled for him. The ancient ghost’s grin widened before he hopped down, a shower of soil following him. Kenosera, despite skepticism, slid after him, Dedari on his heels. The rest of them looked at her; she swallowed, set a foot on the slope, and clenched her hands before inching down the extreme slant.

Embarrassment at her lack of climbing skill raced through her, but no one said a word, so she refused to bring attention to her shortcomings. The ground evened out, and she trotted the remainder of the way, to join Red and the two nomads as they studied the tunnel before them.

Roots grew down through dirt, stone peeked out of the soil, and water dripped onto the muddy earth. This uninspiring passage led to the ruins?

“I wonder at the stability, considering the storm we had,” Katta said as he and Kjaelle joined them, eyeing the ceiling.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Red brightened his light to sun-glare. Vantra retrieved Laken and settled the pack on her back as he tromped through a puddle deeper than he assumed. He squelched to the other side, shuddered, and continued. Kenosera sucked in a breath, glanced down at his mud-splatted boots, and reluctantly followed with Dedari.

Vantra eyed the illumination, and a small bit of hope filled her. Perhaps she might elude Rezenarza’s touch, if she remained in a dazzling atmosphere. She did not expect him to contact her within a Sun temple, but outside it, in pitch-darkness?

“I’m skeptical of this tunnel reaching the ruins,” Lorgan said as they filed after the Light acolyte. “I mean, they’re three-and-a-half days from the temple. That’s exceptionally long for something like this.”

“Hence it took days to find the dogs,” Red called. “But I’m not expecting it to all be in an earthen tunnel. I’m expecting it to be a passage. This is just how one gets to it.”

So a three-day-long passage? Vantra did not see much of a difference.

The ground was a sloppy mess, and she dearly wished to bathe. The desert did not have much in the way of water, but splashing into a spring, especially one that produced mist, sounded fantastic. True, the soil-laden droplets contained enough magic she could absorb the energy and feel a zing, but the water could not provide the amount held within saturated fogs.

“I didn’t know something like this existed.”

Vantra looked up from the sloshy puddles at Kenosera’s words; Red and the nomads gazed out into a greyish darkness, one not lit by the Light. She scooted around a final puddle before exiting into fresher air.

They stood on a rock shelf overlooking the floor of a sheer-walled canyon that was open to the night. The orange stone towered at least ten stories above them, reaching for the still-elusive cloudy sky. Red’s light snaked down to where the shelf cut back and forth, creating a trail to the bottom.

The remains of stone pillars lined the way, most broken and their shattered parts scattered into the path. Teardrop caps with slits topped the extant ones, which Vantra assumed once housed light. The end of the path held taller, grooved columns, with gouges and fractured sculpture. She could not tell what the images originally represented, though she caught a hint of scales between breaks. The damage looked consistent, as if someone long ago purposefully destroyed them.

Square holes surrounded by damaged frames lined the ground level, with stairs leading up to a second and third story. In the center of the passage, round mounds of earth sat within circular cracked foundations, blown soil coating most of the stone. Stout rectangular columns sat near each one, huge chips and chunks missing from them, their tops shattered.

“Kenosera, Dedari, do you know this place?” Red asked as he eyed the dark openings.

“I don’t.” Kenosera’s voice held the reverence for a long-gone community. “I don’t know much about the desert this far west. My home village is south of Black Temple, and even though I’ve visited the ruins, I wasn’t able to explore much beyond them. The vi-vans would bypass Sunbright and Kepher in favor of a Nevemere village sheltered within a half-moon canyon. They give food and water to the devout for altar offerings.”

“This reminds me of an ancient Voristi tale,” Dedari murmured. “It speaks of a snake people who dwelled in caverns of darkness, but they found comfort in the worship of the syimlin Nature rather than the meestan Brocrest. He smote them with a heavy hand, sending floods to wash their canyons clean. Our religious leaders tell the story because they believe nomadic peoples will perish if they turn to syimlin, like the Nevemere. We should keep to our own deities, not the ghostly ones.”

Red’s laughter caught them off-guard. He thought the tale amusing? Why? He turned and swept his arms wide.

“Look, look! A ziptrail!”

What? How could a place as devoid of magic as the desert have a ziptrail? But Vantra sensed it, just below the surface, a shimmery line of caustic energy that followed the canyon. Freshness flowed through it as if it had bathed in scented soap.

“I wonder if the storm recharged it,” Katta said, his eyes glazing as he viewed the soil between his boots. “The ground soaked up a lot of magic, even this far from the epicenter.”

“I wonder if the soltress knows it’s here.” Lorgan squatted and settled his hand on the earth. “That might be why she told us about this passage.”

Rayva growled, low, a warning. Katta, Kjaelle and Red looked around, grim. Vantra prickled and froze as glowing red somethings filled the darkened doorways, and subtle, spitting hisses trickled to them. Hot, menace-filled magic bloomed.

The soltress had used her to set them up.

“Vantra! Grab me, piggyback!” Kjaelle’s voice cracked her panic. She snagged the elfine’s shoulders and jumped, the pack sliding around her back. The elfine slipped her arms under her knees and a shield engulfed them, one Vantra had never experienced before. Spikes formed on the outside, but instead of points, the tips curled like claws. They fell through the earth as air zoomed over them, sour magic trailing the swipe. The shield claws dug into the energy, and electric shock grabbed them and erupted into brilliant flares.

What was going on? Ghosts using Physical Touch could not phase through the earth or use ziptrails! She and Laken would tear apart! And Kenosera and Dedari and Rayva—what was going to happen to them? They could not leave them behind!

Ominous laughter echoed through her. I told you, beware their lies, Rezenarza whispered.

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