I nod. “Thank you.”
“I won’t tell Ruvan about this detour.” He pushes away from the wall. “He’ll worry needlessly.”
“Thank you.” He and I share a conspiratorial look. One that feels…respectful. Almost friendly.
We come to a stop before the great fortress. I tilt my head back, admiring its mighty silhouette. I never fully appreciated its beauty. And I never asked enough questions as to how we built such incredible structures and then lost all knowledge of it for our own homes.
Ventos asks the all-important question. “How do we get in?” The thing I’ve been racking my brain over since this course of action was decided.
“The fortress only has one entrance and exit.” I point to the silver-plated door to the left of the heavy portcullis.
“The other side?” He’s scanning the walls even as he asks. He knows just as well as I do that getting over the sheer walls that wrap in Hunter’s Hamlet is next to impossible.
“While, yes, the only access to the outside world from Hunter’s Hamlet is on the other side, it’s even more fortified since hardly anyone ever goes in or out. Less silver, though, likely.” Drew hasn’t told me much about the outside. Then again, beyond wondering about the silver traders, I haven’t asked. No one goes out of Hunter’s Hamlet. People come in, joining the community from time to time. But they only ever have harsh words to say of the outside world—a place where there is hardly ever enough food to go around and the few lord over the many. Even locked in with the vampir, they prefer the hamlet.
I wonder if people will leave once the threat of the vampir has been ended. There are harsh places out there, certainly. Places like Tempost is now. But there also must be places of beauty—like Tempost was in its glory days. Perhaps people will be brave enough to explore, to find those hidden corners of the world. I think I would like to.
“How are we getting in, then?” Ventos asks.
“Only one way.” I stand a little taller. “We’re going to have to walk in.”
“Won’t they question us?”
“The guard changes at midnight. That’s going to be our best chance to avoid too many inquiries.” I glance up at the moon. “Get ready and keep your head down.”
“All right, I’ll follow your lead.”
To my surprise, Ventos does. There’s no further questioning or doubting. As a cloud passes over the moon, there’s movement on the other side of the portcullis. I take our chance.
Hand on my hip and repeating everything Drew ever told me about his life, I yank open the door to the fortress. In the back of my mind, I hear the cautions of the elders of Hunter’s Hamlet—of my mother.
Never try to follow your brother into the fortress, Floriane. He is a hunter now and belongs to a world you are not made for. The punishment for sneaking into the fortress, even for just a look, is death.
CHAPTER33
As expected,the guards who were on duty in the small passageway that leads to the inner courtyard of the fortress are leaving. They glance over their shoulders with tired, bored eyes and see two hunters, wet with marsh mist, mud up to their knees, with hung heads. One of the two night guards pauses but doesn’t ask anything. He, no doubt, just wants to go to bed.
I lower my hand and rub my thumb along my blade. A red droplet falls to the ground. Ventos does the same. The light is dim enough that his blood looks identical to mine.
Not one word is exchanged.
We emerge into the dusty courtyard of the fortress. The stink of blood and sweat has soaked into the hard-packed earth. I pause, thinking of the time Drew has spent here, the hours training with Davos. Is this where he bled and fought? Or were those special sessions spent elsewhere?
As much as I want to stop and muse, to take it all in, I don’t. I’m a hunter who has seen this place dozens—hundreds—of times. I follow the night shift guards into the main hall.
The room of tables and benches is more crowded than I expected for this late at night. Though Drew did mention once that many kept the hours of their prey, I had been hoping for quiet, dark halls to slink through. Some hunters sit in quiet reverence, praying to the old gods whose names have long been lost to time. Most eat and converse. Others polish their silver sickles, alone and silent.At least they take good care of the blades, I think.
At the far end of the hall is an altar lit by a hundred candles perched on narrow shelves, now made more from candle wax than stone. On the altar is a wooden cask, locked in a steel cage.The elixir. Drew said that only Davos holds the key to the cage and can administer the draught. He pours out just enough to fill the golden chalice—barely larger than a thimble—positioned under its tap.
I’m beginning to figure out how I might be able to procure a key when our plan suddenly goes sideways.
“M—Mardios?” someone stammers behind me. I glance over my shoulder. Ventos remains calm despite a hunter rushing over to him. Even though I didn’t recognize the hunter whose face Ventos stole, someone else clearly did. “Mardios, it is—” He draws his sickle. “Cut yourself, fiend.”
“I’m no fiend. Just a hunter who finally found his way back,” Ventos answers with an exhausted sigh for emphasis. More hunters are beginning to gather. I allow Ventos to have the focus, slipping off to the side. No one pays me any mind.
“Then prove it with a slice of your hand.”
“I already sliced my thumb to get in.” Ventos folds his arms. “Which would you like next? Me to chop an ear up?”
