It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. Thalia bristled. But when she looked at me and saw the way Mallack stood so still, as if one wrong word might break him, she swallowed her protest.
“Fine,” she bit out.
Oksana exhaled through her nose. “You better not die,” she told Myccael, shoving a dagger into his belt. “Because if you do, I’ll bring you back just to kill you again.”
He gave her a grin and kissed her quickly, already mounting his nicta.
Mallack paused as he passed me. His fingers brushed mine—just a whisper of contact—but it said everything.
“Be here when I get back,” he said softly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered back.
He nodded once, then swung into the saddle beside Myccael and Darryck.
And just like that, the three of them rode toward the dark line of the mountains, leaving the three of us behind, furious, worried, and already plotting how to make them regret it.
"So, Daphne," Darryck fished curiously.
Not that I could blame him. He was my closest friend, despite the many rotations between us and my having raised him like a son. Friendship didn't know age or any other barrier; it developed where it pleased.
"Zyn, Daphne," I answered with a smirk, shaking my head. "I still can't believe it."
"I heard rumors, but I didn't believe it," Darryck admitted. He had known Daphne for a few short rotations before she left us. Daphne had been more mother to Darryck than his own, even in the short time she had been with us after the birth. He’d come to us when she was pregnant, and in my heart of hearts, I knew that he and Thalia had been destined to find each other. Had our Thalia not been taken, they would have grown up together and fallen in love. Over twenty rotations had been stolen from them. Just like for Daphne and me.
"Some moments, like right now, when she's not with me, I can't believe it myself," I admitted, pushing down the dark rock of dread that was already building inside my stomach with every step the nicta took me away from her. When she was by my side, it was all good and clear, but when she wasn't, I was afraid—not that this had been a dream—but that she would be gone just as mysteriously as she had appeared. Given what had happened, I didn't think it was a baseless fear.
"Grandyr sent her to make me stop the magrail," Myccael entered our conversation.
"Why?" Darryck furrowed his brow.
"We think that the Pyme mountains cover an ancient Zuten city," Myccael continued. "The digging of the magrail opened passages that were never meant to be reopened. Do you remember Arcoro mentioning that the Zuten created weapons the gods disapproved of?"
Darryck nodded. Arcoro was the leader of the Zuten Myles had discovered on Oceanus. He told us how his ancestors had incurred the wrath of the gods, bringing destruction to their homeworld. Some of the Zuten fled throughout the fourteen planets, some stayed and perished, and some survived inside a mountain that was eventually swallowed up by water. The only reason they made it was because the Sirens sustained them. The Sirens, who were of their making…
A thought hit me. "The Zuten created the Sirens. Do you think it's possible that they created the Eulachs too?"
The silence that followed was telling. Both males picked up my train of thought and followed it.
"We'll know soon," Myccael said, pointing forward. We had reached the drill side.
Tovahr's males had been busy. The hole had been enlarged enough to fit even a vissigroth and susserayn through.
"I took the liberty and already sent a legion of dragoons down," Kavryn announced, bowing to Myccael.
"Good," Myccael dismounted. "Let's go."
There hadn't been enough time to build a lift, so we had to descend the old-fashioned way, on a rope. It had been a long time since I had done this, and by the time I reached the opening to the air pocket, my arms were screaming at me.Time to get back in shape, old male, I promised myself. When Darryck entered, he shook out his arms as well, cursing, "Now that's a workout I'm not used to."
His words did make me feel better; maybe I wasn't as out of shape as I thought.
"Snyg, who would have thought rope climbing could be this strenuous?" Myccael echoed at his arrival. "Make a note that we incorporate that into the training," he added to no one in particular.
Several dragoons had waited for us; others were already exploring the many branching tunnels in groups. But for now, it was this chamber we were most interested in.
The chamber was vast and shadow-stained, but even at first glance, I could tell it had once been organized. Storage crates lined the curved walls, stacked in deliberate symmetry, but now many of them sat askew, lids tossed aside like discardedfruit skins. The air smelled of ancient metal, the sharp bite of oxidizing alloy, and something else... something fungal.
“It looks more like some kind of storage unit than an armory,” Myccael muttered, kneeling beside a cracked container. Inside, I saw a handful of the same black orb weapon the Renegade had used on our camp. Each one was cradled inside a sturdy, foamy wrapping. But several of the wrappings were empty.
