“Third street, fifth building,” Elias said, voice deep and gravelly. He pointed that direction. “The stables still look to be in good shape. The tunnel should be in the second house over.”
Once again, Brela’s instructions were perfect. Every detail down to how many steps Elias needed to take from the missing door of the house to the wooden floorboard that jutted out and creaked. Another three steps and they found the hidden latch, obscured by the stairs that had collapsed into splinters. Perhaps that was the only thing Brela hadn’t anticipated.
“How the hells did she know all of this?” Serill asked as he helped heave some of the planks away. “She would have been, what, younger than nine?”
“She was five,” Farrah grunted as she shifted a particularly awkward-shaped stair off the top of the pile. “She’d just been named Tybost’s and Lilla’s heir after they met with the King and Queen in Orhyrst.”
Elias lifted a pile of scrap with ease, dumping it in the adjoining room without a single shift in his features to show it was any effort. “She took her job very seriously.”
“The Veil Scholar is a knowledge keeper,” Farrah clarified. “They were transporting books from the library… well, what was left of the collection in Orhyrst. Brela was thorough before, but she took it upon herself to preserveallknowledge, including the memories of places like this.”
A small muscle ticked along Elias’s jaw as he hauled the door open with a creak. “She swore she’d visit all of the cities, even the destroyed ones, and find a way to honor their memory. Find a way to rebuild them to their original glory when she was older.”
Serill looked to the black and purple swirls of smoke painted on the underside of the tunnel door. Along the edges, wisps and tendrils curled around symbols he vaguely recognized as the ancient shadow language. Despite the paint crammed into the space, it never reached the middle of the wood, as if tiny arms couldn’t reach any further to paint on the rest of the space.
“I assume this was Brela?” Serill asked.
Elias let out a breath that might have been a laugh, despite his features not changing. “Yes. Lilla and Tybost never went anywhere without pens and paper for her. Otherwise she’d… get creative.”
“Their little Shadow Speaker,” Farrah whispered under her breath. A real smile tilted her lips as she descended the stairs, fingers brushing over the cracking paint.
Elias finally smiled at that. Small, but still present as he gestured for Serill to follow Farrah into the depths.
Serill blinked once before shaking off his surprise. Shadow Speaker. He knew the term. The equivalent to the Moon, Earth, and Sun Scholar back when the shadow temple still existed. Except they had magic…
It was just a title. An endearing and fitting nickname for a little girl with a spectacular ability to draw.
“El, flint?” Farrah whispered from a few feet in front of Serill.
Elias grumbled as he felt his way into the darkness. “I never thought I’d take for granted having a fire wielder with us.” He paused next to Serill. “Sorry.”
Serill shook his head, even if the movement meant nothing in darkness. “Do you guys still not like him?”
“Not completely,” they replied at the same time.
Serill pictured them both looking at each other, impressed with how they’d responded in the same breath. “I don’t understand you two. One minute you’re teasing them for their relationship, the next you’re glaring daggers at Cason like he might burn her.”
Fire burst to life in front of him, two torches illuminating the damp, moldy tunnel. Farrah turned and continued down the stairs while Elias blocked the prince from following.
“Tell me, Serill. Do youreallythink Valkip can accept everything Brela is? Night Terror, Veil Scholar, and everything else? If she chose to come back to Valisea and find her people, fight for any shadow-kind that might still exist, do you think your captain would follow her? Stand with her? Fight against the other kingdoms to protect her people?”
No. Not unless it was an order. Not unless Severina stood with them, which was impossible.
His silence was apparently the answer Elias expected. He clapped Serill on the shoulder. “Trust me, Prince, I would love for those two to be happy, but it’s not possible with everything happening at the wall.” He sighed and began walking. “Still, I doubt you’ll get rid of us that easily. Farrah will hold you at knife point until you show her the moon temple.”
“Speaking of knife point,” Farrah called from ahead, “I’m going to start using one if you two don’t hurry up. Oni should be meeting us early tomorrow morning, and we have shit to do.”
Elias rolled his eyes as he muttered toward the ceiling. “Gods, spare me from the assertive women in my life.” Then, louder as he trudged ahead, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Farr.”
Serill followed them down a twisting hallway, much more narrow than the one they’d taken at the shadow temple. Brela would have hated it in here. Maybe Cason would have been forced to drag her through the dark tunnel, throw her over his shoulder, or start counting something to keep her calm.
Serill had always found Cason’s counting habit… odd. Not that he didn’t believe it worked, but… it didn’t work. Not for Cason.
Not until Brela showed up.
Somehow, a woman that poked all of the captain’s nerves kept that insane amount of fire magic under control. He couldn’t understand it.
By now, she and Cason would be at the outskirts of the Anfroy camp, planning or executing their infiltration. Stealing the blueprints for that drill, figuring out the whole point of the activity at the wall, learning why the King of Anfroy wanted it down.
