Chapter 10
Sonara
Two days, they’d traveled, and only now was Sonara able to see the faintest glimpse of the Garden of the Goddess dotting the horizon. It was a mile-wide valley halfway up the mountains, where a circle of blood red rocks protruded from the ground like giant fingertips stretching for the sky.
The Garden of the Goddess was a celestial graveyard.
Each time the moons went dark, it was in remembrance of the time the goddesses slayed one of their own: the youngest, who rose up against the others in her greed formore.With great force, the goddesses slew her, and placed her body in a bed of stars.
As she lay dying, the goddesses began to mold Dohrsar around her, shaping the planet bit by bit until it became her tomb. Her last breaths were met with a curse: for eternity, she would find no rest.
The dying goddess stretched out her hand as the last pieces of the planet formed around it. Only her fingertips remained, poking through the earth as if she’d used every last bit of her strength to reach them.
“They’re not as morbid as I thought they would be.”
Sonara glanced backwards.
Azariah rode several strides away, with Thali perched behind her on their pale steed.
“The fingers of the goddess,” Azariah said as she stared at the shadowy outline on the horizon. They were still a day’s ride away from the Bloodhorns, and half a day’s ride from heading up into the mountain valley. “People tell tales of them, all across the Deadlands. The details change, depending on who delivers it. The way the tale goes in Stonegrave, I always imagined you’d feel sad, looking at them. A goddess, cast out. Left to rot for eternity. But looking at them…” She tucked a tendril of dark hair behind her ear, and smiled sadly. “There’s a strange sense of beauty to it.”
“There are a great many tales about a great many things,” Thali answered. “It is up to us, my Lady, which tales we choose to believe.”
The two women were so starkly unalike it made Sonara smile.
Thali, on the back of the mare with her lazy, relaxed posture, her Canis mask protruding from her face, bone gauntlets wrapped around Azariah’s middle. The picture of a Deadlander, though missing a much-needed weapon. And Azariah, riding sidesaddle, as rigid as a princess could be. It wouldn’t surprise Sonara if she had a pole for a spine.
“Do you believe the tales you’ve heard about me?” Jaxon asked.
He’d purchased a mare in Sandbank before they left. And with how quickly he’d ridden out of town, Sonara guessed it had been with illusioned coin provided by Markam. The mare was a pretty thing, a white-and-black overo. Her multicolored mane was braided up to show off the intricate swirling patterns on her neck.
Each time she drew closer, Duran held his head a little higher, his steps more of a dance than a stride.
Some war beast you are,Sonara thought to him.Prancing like a show steed.
He swatted his tail in response.
“The only tales told about you, Jax, are how you accompany the Devil and do her bidding.”
“Careful,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll send a bone soaring towards that ego of yours.”
Sonara spat towards him. Jaxon laughed, and Azariah looked like she might be sick.
“Must you be so… vile?” she asked.
Sonara shrugged. “So tell us, Princess. What do you know of Markam of Wildeweb?”
“Ah.” Azariah looked skyward, where Markam sat atop Razor’s back. She waved a lace fan in front of her face, her silk gloves darkened from sweat. She wouldn’t last one day in the Deadlands without a guide like Thali. “I only know one tale, about the businessman whose ego weighs nearly as much as his coin purse. The businessman who runs away in the dark of night, without a word of goodbye.” Azariah’s smile was laced with acid. “But that is not a tale worth telling.” Sonara’s eyes narrowed.
For she’d experienced a very different version, when Markam came to her that night with tears in his eyes. Love was a tricky thing. Broken hearts, even more so, and they never did seem to break even.
“How much further?” Azariah asked, clearly changing the subject.
“A day’s ride.” Sonara stared between the tips of Duran’s ears at the horizon. “We’ll be there by nightfall. Camp on the outskirts, then ride up the pass into the Garden in the morning. The Gathering begins at the setting suns. We’ll wait on your Wanderers to arrive. Watch them, until they make a move towards uncovering this Antheon you speak of. And once we recover it for you?”
Azariah fanned herself again. “You’ll have your payment, on my honor.”
“Will he be there?” Sonara asked. “The… king?”
