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The gates were thankfully stillopen as I approached Grimsbane with only moments to spare. The infuriating beast, Azriel, had dragged me miles away in the opposite direction, and I’d been forced to run at a painfully quick pace to make up for lost time. The moment my legs crossed the drawbridge and met the paved road inside the fortress, I gradually stumbled to a stop. My hands found my knees as I doubled over, letting the blood spread across the expanse of my lungs and refuel my exhausted muscles in their starved state. My head pounded something fierce, and my entire body shook from the crash of adrenaline.
But I had no time to rest, no pause to regain my breath, as two soldiers dressed in black armor approached from where they were stationed, waiting for my arrival. The look on their faces was flat and cold, leaving no empathy for the pathetic nature of my gasping for air. They came to stand on either side of my hunched frame and started to march forward once more. I stood on shaky knees and reluctantly followed them in quiet understanding.
I was led through a long tunnel, much like how the mountain concealed the night sky, keeping out the dark and veiling us under a thin promise of protection. But unlike the granite walls carved in the stone fortress, this kingdom was built by hand. Metal sheets molded the walls and ceiling, each nut and bolt a symbol of the meticulous care humanity had taken to protect themselves from the threat outside.
They brought me through a great room with hundreds of people, a type of courtyard, domed at the ceiling, holding casual duels and lounging soldiers. A disturbing silence hung in the air, not a voice was raised among the clatter of steel and shield. The courtyards I was used to were always loud and buzzing, almost irritatingly noisy with gossiping runners. They dragged their burning gaze across my dirty leathers as I passed. My hand instinctively tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a poor attempt to smooth my disheveled appearance.
Across the courtyard was the base of the citadel. The top of the tower piercing through the dome where it stretched high over the wastelands. The soldiers escorted me into the tower and ascended a spiral staircase, my head growing a little lighter with every flight we climbed. Windows lined the stairwell, allowing a glimpse of the world outside. I found myself stealing glances at every glass pane, searching for a sign of the man who had become a nagging thorn in my side.
It was a ridiculous thought, seeing him again. Eivor warned me the realm depended on my discretion. Runners before me had given their life protecting the information elicited from these missions, and I would be no different. Even if he did know my name, how could I trust him? How could I begin to entertain a strange, winged man who literally swooped in out of nowhere and offered me the one thing I never knew I wanted? The one thing making his offer seem too good to be true.
A choice.
The burning in my legs snapped my attention back to reality and the task at hand. These soldiers never stopped for my sake, never let me catch my breath no matter how heavily I panted behind them. They pulled me down a long hallway at the top of the staircase where double doors led into a claustrophobic office, cluttered and disarrayed from lack of attention or lack of time. I let myself inside and glanced around the musty room, finding an armchair inviting me to fall into its weathered leather.
“May I finally sit?” I asked over my shoulder at the soldiers waiting by the doors. “It’s not like I just got through running twenty plus miles.”
They remained silent, paying me no mind as they returned to their post. I sighed an exasperated sound and turned to plop my weight in the chair, succumbing to the irresistible call of rest and respite wrapped in worn rawhide. An unintentional moan escaped my chest as every muscle relaxed in a painful objection, the slow release of their tension painfully pleasant.
“Made yourself comfortable, I see.” A gritty voice said behind me, it’s approach silent and without warning. The authority in his tone shoved a metal pole down my spine, forcing my posture to straighten.
“I apologize if I overstepped my welcome, sir.” Heavy footsteps passed my chair, bringing him into full view. It was the same man from the picture I received the night prior—Commander Irving made real from the sketchbook. His head was shaved, aging him further beyond his advanced years. Fine lines pinched his eyes and ran beneath his lip from a lifetime of scowling. He stood behind his desk and leaned his weight across the splintering wood finish as a yellowed map of the world curled beneath his fingers.
“Mark?” he gestured his chin to my arm. I shoved up my sleeve to bear evidence of my identity.
“You’re new,” he observed. I simply nodded in reply. “That’s surprising. Usually, Queen Eivor wouldn’t send fresh meat to retrieve information this important.” The commander stood to his full height and sighed. “Close the doors, Mitch.”
The sound of a lock sliding past the threshold sent my fingers curling into the frayed leather binding. Irving paced to the wide windows behind his desk, peering beyond the filthy glass to the wastelands below.
“How was your first run, Chosen?” he asked without looking at me.
“Exhilarating, sir.” I kept my answers vague and simple, not desiring to speak of the vampyre, nor the winged man who rescued me. I believed my uppers would have instead rather seen me torn apart by the monster than be saved by him.
“You should be proud. Few are selected to become the queen’s Chosen, but even fewer actually make it past the Grimm Wood. Didn’t run into any trouble?”
“No, sir.” Honestly, couldn’t he tell by the ripped leather and bruises swelling on my jaw I had run intosometrouble? Perhaps the Dark Army needed to work on their perception as well as their hospitality skills.
“Good, because the information I’m about to give you is time sensitive. The queen has been waiting a long time for this news, and you must leave with equal haste tomorrow morning so she knows as soon as possible.” He tore his eyes from the window to assess my reaction, striking me with their harshness from across the cluttered room.
I nodded again, not trusting myself to choose the appropriate words. He walked back to his desk and pulled out a stack of papers from the top drawer, methodically thumbing through each page.
“Your message to the queen is just this: we have cleared the lower kingdoms. There was no trace of the leystones in the ruined cities.” He pulled out a page and set it on top of the stack, running a finger casually down the sheet. “But we did find a map of the old world, an ancient recording of the leylines and where they trace throughout the realm. The lines converge together at a single point in the Starry Sea. A forgotten island marks the spot. We are confident this old temple holds the stones to set her free, and we are sending several units to the southern ocean to retrieve them in the following days. They should reach the docks in four nights’ time once they leave, so we will need her to send another runner in exactly a fortnight for another update—hopefully, the last one.”
He finally sat behind his desk, the chair squeaking from his weight as he leaned back to pull out a quill and ink. The scratch of the feather against parchment filled the eerie silence in the room as my brain reeled from the information he’d delivered. Leystones and leylines, old maps and a starry sea. He spoke to free our queen as if she were trapped, as if she were the mountain’s true prisoner.
“Why does she need stones to leave the mountain? I thought it kept her safe. I thought she wanted to remain in West Mirth?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. The Commander paused his writing to peer up at me.
“Did I stutter, runner?”
“No, sir. I—”
“Then why are you asking questions?” he snarled, sending me a look that stole the moisture in my throat. I swallowed hard against the dryness and nodded.
“Good. You’re dismissed. Mitch will show you to your room. You are not to leave or venture to any part of the citadel unless escorted by an officer.”
“Aye, sir.”
I stood reluctantly to leave, not looking forward to conquering the stairs so soon after I just arrived. My joints throbbed at the thought.
