“Hopefully, by then we’ll be long gone.” The piece in her pocket seemed to…tug, almost, toward the shining line of the ocean beyond the row houses. A stream being drawn back to a river, a lodestone finding home.
Alie closed her hand around it, mindless of the pain.
CHAPTER THIRTY
LORE
The past is the easiest place to get lost.
—Taya Mireau, Auverrani poet
The island was thick with memory.
She and Dani had fallen into an uneasy routine in the days since they’d arrived. They’d divided up the island as best they could—Dani searched through the ruins of the villages, while Lore took the wild places, the idea being that she’d have an easier time navigating them, what with her god-affinity. Thus far, it both had and hadn’t worked. Lore was able to explore the island without getting hopelessly lost, but neither of them had managed to find Apollius’s body yet.
Last night, as they sat in front of a tiny fire that Dani had made with her lighter and some dead branches, she’d brought up the thing they’d both thought of but hadn’t yet discussed. “What happens if we can’t find Him?”
Lore had shifted on the ground, holding a half-eaten piece of dried meat in her hand. Their stores were running low, but she found she hadn’t been very hungry since they arrived. As if the very air of this place sustained her. “He’s here. We’ll find Him.”
Dani glared at her across the fire. “You can sense enough to be sure of that, but not enough to know where He is yet?”
Lore just looked at her. After a moment, Dani looked away. They hadn’t spoken again, both bedding down for the night next to the Fount. Dani had given up sleeping on the ship, but neither of them were brave enough to sleep in the cathedral ruins. Lore knew enough not to believe in ghosts; still, Apollius’s old church felt haunted.
The truth was that Loredidfeel something. On the backside of the Mount, beneath the ash-cover, the mountain had a sheer rock face, as if something huge had slid down the earth. She kept finding herself drawn there, standing on a grassy outcropping that jutted out over the slice of stone, staring. This was where they should be looking.
She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t yet. Why the place seemed to both push her forward and draw her back. The place in her head where Nyxara had been seemed to tug her toward it, while the rest of her shied away.
But this had to come to an end, eventually.
Now she stood there again, the wind off the sea stirring the ash and feathering her hair against her face. She held on to the trunk of a burnt tree and leaned out, just a bit, looking down at that sheer face. If she fell, it wouldn’t be immediate death. It’d be tumbling head over feet down this stone-slide, crashing against craggy handholds and pockmarks, until she hit the black water of the ocean.
And still, a glimmer. Calling her out onto that rock.
And if He was there? If she found Him, killed Him? What then?
It was a question she’d thought of before, but never with such immediacy. Apollius still had both deaths the Fount had given Him, one in body and one in spirit. So what happened when Lore finally killed His body? She didn’t think Bastian would be as lucky as she was when she killed Nyxara. The goddess hadn’t wanted a stronger hold in Lore’s mind, but Apollius wanted all ofBastian; giving Him one bodily death would only make His spirit dig in deeper claws. Especially now that she knew renouncing the gods was as simple as words said in the vicinity of the Fount, close enough for It to siphon back Its magic.
For Gabe and Malcolm and Alie, their plan could be enough. Gather back the pieces of the Fount, fit them to their proper places. Have them wish away their power as they stood close. But for Bastian, it would never be that simple. Apollius would never let him come here.
So they’d force Him, somehow. Drug Him, maim Him, do whatever they had to do to wrestle Him to the side of the Fount and hope Bastian was strong enough to fight forward. They’d come this far, impossibly. She refused to leave the job half done.
It is not the closeness alone that allowed Us to take Nyxara back.
The not-voice, the Fount speaking. It was fainter here than when she was in the courtyard, but still clear. Lore tipped up her chin to the sea breeze. “What is it, then?”
You renounced Her, and She desired to go.
Lore sighed. “So Bastian can’t get rid of Apollius unless Apollius decides to leave?”
He cannot.
“This is all pointless, then. Apollius will never do that.”
Not unless He thinks there is somewhere better to be.
“I repeat: pointless.” It didn’t make her angry, just filled her with a deep and abiding despair. The closer she got to an end, the further away it drew.
No, the Fount countered.Not if you continue on your path. Not if you give Him somewhere else to be.
