In my school days, there had been plenty of rumors about the well at the edge of the grove behind the fields we used for our sports. In a land with warriors of legend teaching spoiled, overindulged sons and daughters of princes and knights, where our literary instructor used to sing for gods, the hag was known as the oldest, most wicked thing. Naturally, it was the fashionable sport to tease her, try her patience.
We were told she once ate up a gaggle of princesses in retaliation. In my school days, she never showed. She sleeps for hundreds of years, only coming out when she's ready for a hunt.
Beautiful one moment, old crones the next, her kind roam till they find their perfect prey: an innocent girl whose heart they can carve out and eat to feed their immortality.
I once threw a nest of wasps down her well. As that elicited no response, I concluded she was a myth, or if she once was real, she could have left these lands for one without so many bored and indulgent kids nearby.
"I see I've lost your interest." Liken seems amused. I suppose he talked to me, but my mind is elsewhere. "Very well. I'll gather what knowledge I can, and come back to you when we find another old library for you to raid."
"Yes, do that," I reply.
He touches his fingertips to his brow and bows gracefully, before turning his heels.
I stop by the weapons room to collect the bag I bring with me to any raid outside these walls, then I draw deeper in the ranger headquarters till I reach the training area. Two novices circle each other, one with a broken nose, the other a bleeding mouth. They're overseen by the best trainer they could possibly have, me included: Neb. Though she's twice as vicious and three times more agile than any other here, she hasn't earned the title of ranger, and if I have anything to do with it, she never will. She belongs here, where she's safe.
My sister glares at me from across the circular room. She has other ideas.
I ignore her, catching Erdun's eye instead. I tilt my head toward the exit; he follows me out.
"Well?"
The rangers are always eager to hear of what the lords have to say, though their answer rarely changes.
I realize that for once, I can give them some hope.
I won't.
I haven't heard of the plan to shield us, which means it isn't common knowledge, with good reason: should our enemies hear of it, they'd attempt to thwart it. They'd burn any old books they could lay their hands on, and call for reinforcements early. They may even attempt to build a portal between Alfheimr and Tenebris, risky as that may be. We can't chance it.
"No luck with that book. I've had an idea, though. I'll need backup."
"I can call Iola, or Nebula—" Catching my look, he's quick to backtrack. "I think Winse is available, too."
I shake my head. "You'll do. We aren't going out."
He's intrigued, but he follows me silently through the old field, now converted into a dark, handsome stone building housing the members of the Court of Ash, which is half composed of salamanders.
Black and red eyes follow us as we head to the glade.
The well, circled by stone, waits for us in a shadow of a willow. I approach it, and look down to the black pit. I can't see—more concerningly, I can't feel what's at the bottom. This is a place of shadows—it should feel like my dominion.
It really doesn't.
I undo the leather bag at my back, then retrieve a thin spider-silk rope, handing one end to Erdun.
"You're going down there?" He looks and shivers. "That doesn't look good, boss."
"That'd be why you're here." I hook the other end of the rope to my belt and tie four knots, to be safe. "If you hear me call, if I tug three times, or if an hour has passed, pull me up."
Erdun has backed me up a dozen times outside the walls, but now he swallows hard. "What are you going to do down there?"
I hop at the top of the circular stones. "Get answers, one would hope."
"Or lose your head," he mutters.
"Or that. A call, one hour, or three tugs," I remind him, before jumping down into the void.
Deep Down the Hole
