Song of the Forever Rains by E.J. Mellow
CHAPTER FIVE
The night air was hotter and thicker than Darius would have expected, given that there was no sun hanging in the midnight sky, and the dark alley he walked through smelled potently of fish. Adjusting the brown leather mask tighter against his face, Darius attempted to muffle the putrid aroma. Anonymity was required where he was going, but the cover was working well as a stench barrier.
After remaining at the ball for two more sand falls, keeping to the shadowed corners and watching Lady Larkyra Bassette flit about with suitor after suitor, he’d left.
There had been no use in staying longer. Darius would never approach her again and, lost gods willing, never see her again either. Lachlan’s problems didn’t need to add her dowry to the pile. Such fortune would only extend Hayzar’s power over the land. No, Darius sought a different solution than gathering more coin. And he needed to find it fast.
While the mining trade treaty would be a good idea in theory under a different ruler, if it went through with the Jabari Council with Hayzar in place, it would certainly lead his people into a life of servitude. For none of the profits of the mine would ever make it back to compensate for their backbreaking work. His tenants were already in debt to the duke, their homes no longer theirs; this would sink them deeper into despair and possibly take their lives in the process.
Darius’s legs moved faster at the thought, invisible falling sand rushing his actions forward.
Under a moonless night, Darius followed a hunchbacked man whose face was obscured, practically mummified by a gray wrap, through the lower quarters of Jabari, to a place called Black Bridge. His guide had shown up as promised, and Darius’s blood pounded in his ears with each step he took down the narrow streets.
As a young boy, he’d been fascinated by the place called Yamanu, the realm where all things that wanted to stay hidden resided. From a cherished porcelain doll to a whole city. Darius had often wondered if people could live there, in this in-between realm, so they might escape, never to be found. The secrets of how to create each pocket of space within Yamanu were said to have been lost, and even if they were not lost, Darius unfortunately didn’t know how to make such pockets appear. He still half believed none of it existed, a child’s bedtime story, and that he was currently being led to his death. All this mystery merely a theatrical ruse for a bag of silver before his throat was cut.
Darius’s hand tightened on the dagger at his hip, and he eyed the crooked man leading him.
“Ya wouldn’t have the chance to pull it out before ya found yer hand slashed off,” warned the guide, his voice surprisingly clear and strong with his back to Darius. “I don’t need to see ya to know yer feelings, boy,” he went on to explain.
Chills ran the length of Darius’s spine. “You’re a senseer.”
“I’m many things,” said the wrapped head as it swiveled to peer at Darius, no eyes to be seen. “But to ya tonight, I am yer way forward. Best remember that.”
Darius removed his hand from his blade, and the guide nodded before turning into another inky passageway.
“We approach Black Bridge,” he said, quickening his pace and leading Darius down a cramped side alley. “Stay close. We must pass through without being seen, or neither of us will be enjoying our next meal.”
Darius’s senses pricked with awareness. There were no signs that they had entered this new neighborhood, no structural difference, except that the tight black alley became weighted, oppressive, as if a giant boulder had slammed onto Darius’s back, and it took all his strength to keep moving.
“Hurry, boy,” hissed the guide, and Darius had to stretch his imagination to make out the fluttering gray robes in front of him as they turned into a stone alcove. The sound of fingernails raking across the walls beside him filled Darius’s head, and he turned, ready to attack whoever followed, but there was no one. Only more blackness.
Darius’s traveling cloak became too hot, and a trickle of sweat ran down his neck.
What is this place?he thought.
“Quickly.” The bent man’s icy fingers encircled Darius’s wrist and tugged him through a door. With a creak and scrape of a lock, he found himself in even murkier darkness, as if a blindfold had been jammed over his eyes.
Darius’s heart raced in a panic before a match was struck, a yellow glow revealing he was in a small, bricked room, discarded wooden crates piled up against the walls.
His guide stood against the other side, one ash-colored hand feeling each stone while the other held up a small lantern.
“Where are we?” asked Darius.
“A closet,” replied the man, still feeling, searching.
“Yes, I see that, sir, but why?”
The creature made no reply.
“Sir—”
“Do ya have it?” His wrapped head turned to Darius. “Yer price to pass?”
Darius looked about the confined space. “Pass through where?”
The man waved his hand impatiently. “We can go no further without yer silver.”
And there it was, what Darius feared. He was about to be killed in this small room, left to bleed out while this man took his money, and his people’s future would be lost forever.
“Do ya believe in nothing, boy?” his guide practically growled. “Ya must, or ya would not have worked so hard to find me, in the hopes of finding this.” He slapped his spidery hand against the stone. “Now doubt no more, or I really shall leave ya here for the Black Bridge varmints to find.”
“Well,” said Darius, “no need to be rude.” With resignation, he handed over his bag of coin. Doubts or no, the man was right. He had come this far, even if none of it made sense. He could not stop now.
Placing his lantern on the ground, the mummified creature weighed the small purse in his hand before closing his fist around it and muttering something that sounded an awful lot like a cat hacking up a hair ball.
Darius went slack jawed as his guide opened his fingers; the bag of money was now reduced to a single glowing coin, gold rimming its edge.
“By the lost gods . . .” Darius could only stare as the man pressed the piece onto the brick and it disappeared, like it was swallowed whole. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded as if the wall sighed.
The guide turned back to him. “Now, will it be a secret or a bit of blood ya wish to give? I warn, however, Yamanu is a world of things hidden, so yer secret must be a good one for it to accept.”
Darius had many secrets, but none good. Most were painful, foggy moments in time, where his own screams were his only true memories. Though he had a feeling those were the ones this place thirsted for.
“Blood.” Darius pulled up his sleeve, ignoring the scarred slashes that already marked his arms. Darius was used to blood.
If the wrapped man noticed the scars, he said nothing. He simply bent to whisper something to the wall, his own secret, before leaning back and extending a needle-tipped fingernail. Instead of making a slash, he pricked Darius’s palm. Darius didn’t make a sound at the pain, merely watched as the man cupped his hand until enough crimson had pooled in the center.
“Place it there.” He pointed to the section of stone where he had inserted the coin.
Darius did as he was told, and just as he felt the warm wetness of his blood touch the cool stone of the wall, an iron grip tugged on his traveling coat, and in a sickening rush, he fell through.
Landing on his knees, Darius peered up into a misty gray abyss, the smell damp and dusty at once. He quickly stood and looked about for the dark, cramped closet where they’d just been, but there was only more colorless nothing stretching in every direction. If there was a sky or ceiling, he could not see it. “This is Yamanu?”
“Aye,” said his guide, ripping a strip of cloth from his head wrap before holding it out to Darius. “For yer cut.”
Darius looked down at the filthy thing. “Thank you, but I am fine.”
The man merely shrugged and began to walk, tossing the strip away. Darius followed, sucking at the smarting skin on his palm.
They had barely taken twenty paces when he saw it, or rather them. Various knickknacks lay about or floated in midair. An ornate gold sandglass suspended in nothing, a rocking chair swaying without a breeze, a cup spinning without string, a houseplant tipped over, all resting apart from one another. Alone. Whether they were portals to another realm within Aadilor or doors to a grandmother’s private room, he could not tell, only that they all appeared unremarkable. And if others were traveling within Yamanu, he could not hear or see them. It was a soundless, foggy place.
Really, it was all so . . . depressing. A tightness clenched within Darius’s throat. He seemed forever haunted by the depressing.
Staying tight on the man’s heels, Darius followed his guide through the thick air until the scattering of objects was joined by an occasional dirt road and then a dark, grassy hill before trudging up a set of zigzagging stairs leading to a bridge that stretched endlessly, disappearing into misty oblivion.
None of it made any sense, and tramping across the bridge, Darius had the feeling that if he asked for clarity, he would only be left with a riddle for an answer. He had not grown up around much magic or the many secrets he knew Aadilor held, but what little he had been exposed to, he knew existed without reason or logic. There were whole cities and territories that remained swimming in the lost gods’ gifts, while others, rumored to have once thrived in their blessings, now lay dry, his dear Lachlan among them. Magic was said to be passed down through blood, but it was not unheard of for a gifted soul to be born from ungifted parents and vice versa. The rules of Aadilor seemed to have disappeared along with the gods. Darius only knew that nothing pleased a clever thing more than outsmarting itself. And magic, well, it was the cleverest thing in existence.
“Should we stop for a bit of food?” asked Darius, pulling out some wrapped bread from the small satchel he carried, early pangs of hunger hitting him. He hadn’t eaten much at the ball, and really, how long had they been traveling?
“We are nearly there,” said his guide.
Nearly where?Darius wanted to ask, given that it was all beginning to look the same. How this man, senseer or not, knew where to walk was beyond him. After crossing the bridge—which did in fact have an end—they had gone over a small stream before ascending and descending more stairs and even walking through stairs, which Darius hadn’t realized was ever an option.
He was learning a lot on this trip.
“We’re here.” His guide stopped at an unremarkable small wooden box lying in the middle of a field.
Darius blinked, incredulous. “Are you sure? It might be that pebble over there.”
“Nah.” The man waved his hand. “That leads to no place ya want to go. Unless ya enjoy screaming.”
Though he couldn’t see it, he imagined the man smiled.
Darius took a step away from the rock.
Bending down, his guide inserted a key into the top of the box, and with a twist it flipped open, shining a light that expanded upward and squared off into the shimmering outline of a portal door. Darius stepped forward and peered through. His eyes widened. He was staring into an immense cave, and within that cave was a city. Giant stalactites stretched down to the cavern’s floor to connect to stalagmites that stretched up. Small white lights of dwellings filled each and every one, like sparkling snow, while separate stone buildings were carved into the surrounding rock walls. Below, an expanse of a dark city twisted around the rising rocks, multicolored smoke puffing from chimneys. Blue and green glowworms hung high throughout the cavern, lending a starry effect to the ceiling of this massive, cloaked world.
“Welcome to the Thief Kingdom.” The guide extended a hand for Darius to step through the portal and onto a ledge that overlooked the city.
When he did, Darius stopped on the rocky lip, taking a moment to appreciate the immense view below, to breathe in the air that was rather fresh for a world that appeared to be underground. Darius had never seen anything like it. Hadn’t imagined such a thing to exist, and certainly not to be as beautiful as this. For a place said to be filled with depravity and sin, it was extremely dreamy. Here lay a city still swimming in magic that collected all varieties Aadilor had to offer—most assuredly the corrupt kind.
“Ya paid for one last request.” The bent man appeared at Darius’s side.
“Yes,” said Darius, his eyes still on the shadowed world below, on the sharply carved onyx palace rising in the center. “Take me to the Thief King.”