10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

N ow that Zylah could summon things to her once more, the days that followed became more manageable. The first items had been a change of clothes, Nye’s, from the room they’d given her at the Aquaris Court. She’d considered retrieving one of Holt’s shirts from the tavern in Virian but changed her mind at the last moment. No matter how much she wanted to believe it had been his roots that had reached for her, helped her to escape the water serpent, she knew it was her own magic that had pulled her to safety. Knew that even though it had felt like his presence lying beside her on that platform, it was just as likely to be his ghost.

Next, she had retrieved items for a fire, the few cooking items Raif had provided her with days before. The bag and bladder that had fallen from her in the cavern, even the cloak, she’d spread out to dry by the crackling heat. A few supplies she’d had to borrow from the Aquaris Court to tend to her wounds, to clean spider and serpent blood and goodness knew what other filth from her skin as best she could.

Each retrieval cost her, until a pounding headache became so severe she’d had no choice but to sleep, dreams muddled with visions of Holt and endless, gleaming walls of vanquicite. She moved every few hours, exhaustion always pulling her eyes shut every time she stopped, each time her restless dreams snapping her from slumber.

Pain woke her—so sharp and acute it had her clasping at her chest, gasping for breath, there and then gone. If Ranon had Holt, if he was channelling his magic somehow, hurting him… the thought had her on her feet, a hand pressed against the pain in her chest. She’d been sleeping, and there was every chance he was out there somewhere being tortured. There was the possibility that the absence of her magic could be tied to him somehow, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, couldn’t let herself cling to too much hope.

Still, it was hope that urged her onwards, through chambers with multiple staircases spiralling out of them, across bridges that led to nowhere, and wide caverns that echoed her footsteps until all sound ceased. Zylah paused. Far above, a shaft of sunlight cut through the rock, the opening bordered by lush plants, moss and ivy trailing the rock towards her wherever the daylight hit. There was no obvious path to climb out; if she risked trying to create roots again, there was no way of knowing if the magic would give out halfway to the top. If whatever she had left within her would stutter and fail, and she’d have nothing to stop herself plummeting back to the bottom of the cavern, no way of bracing her fall.

Like many before it, this cavern had multiple staircases leading from it in every direction. Zylah made her way to the centre, closing her eyes against the shaft of sunlight as she decided which way to go. There was no logic to the layout of the maze, no markings or symbols to lead the way. Just futile guesses and her dogged determination to get out.

She turned slowly in a circle, opening her eyes to the staircase before her. The narrowest of the three, but otherwise, unremarkable. A dark smudge against the rock caught her eye, and Zylah choked on a laugh as she reached the first step. Another of Kopi’s feathers, the edges soft beneath her fingers. There was no sign of him, and when she held her breath to listen for any sounds beyond the maze, no echoing hoot answered. Still, Zylah tucked the little token into her braid, the first lost to the waters beneath the serpent, and made her way up the steps.

After hours of twists and turns, the light fading, a distant sound had her pausing at the mouth of a narrow passage. Someone was crying. A woman. Zylah set off in the direction of the voice, dimly aware of the passageways changing, the roots and vines thickening, and traces of cobwebs fluttering about her here and there. The sobs grew louder, and soon the cobwebs became so thick, Zylah had to hold one arm to her head to shield her face.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

The sobbing stopped. “Over here,” a woman’s voice said. “Help me, please.”

Zylah paused to listen for the click click click of the spiders, but there was nothing. “Keep talking. I can’t see anything but web.” She reached an opening, white bundles hanging down from above, either orblights or rays of sunlight slicing through gaps in the cobwebs, maybe even both.

“I’m—” A roar cut off the woman’s voice, but it had been enough. Zylah cut her way through the sticky mass with her sword, her breath stuttering when she stumbled upon the cyon wolf from before, breaths laboured as it lay trapped under layers of web, human skeletons scattered around it.

“Hello?” Zylah called again. No sobs. No sounds. No clicks. Another roar, and the wolf’s eyes flicked open, yellow irises meeting hers.

She pulled her dagger from its sheath, working at the web in steady movements. “You’re not going to eat me if I do this, are you?” The wolf didn’t move, only watched with its yellow eye, chest rising and falling slowly.

Another roar, this time followed by a scream, and Zylah’s movements quickened. She freed the torso first, then the hindlegs. Still, the wolf just lay there, watching. Forelegs next, one, then the other, each one ending in a paw bigger than her hands. Next the grey tuft of tail that was almost the length of her body, until finally there was nothing left, and still, the beast didn’t move.

Zylah slowly raised a hand. “I’m going to touch your flank,” she said softly. “To try and heal you.” She didn’t know if it could understand her, didn’t think she’d be able to heal it, either, but Zylah couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it to the spiders. Fingers sank into soft fur, tentative, gentle. The wolf only watched, and Zylah felt certain the spider that had ensnared it had poisoned it, too.

As her fingers skimmed its ribs, the wolf made a low sound, as close to a growl as it could get. “It’s okay,” Zylah murmured, but then a growl cut her off and she stilled. Not a growl at her. A growl in warning. Sword in hand, she pushed to her feet, gaze settling on a dark shadow moving towards her through the thick cobwebs.

“She cannot thank you,” the same voice from before said. “She would sooner eat your heart than give you her thanks.” The woman made a sound that might have been a laugh. And that was when Zylah heard it. The softest click, click… click .

“I…” Zylah began, glancing down at the immobile wolf. It watched her with a half-lidded eye, its rumble of displeasure and the steady rise and fall of its flank the only sign it was alive. But Zylah knew that the true monster wasn’t the one that lay half-dead beside her.

“You’re not the first to spill the blood of my children,” the voice went on, a low cry following it this time. Click, click, click. “But you are the first to attempt to conceal it from me.” Another sob. “With serpent’s blood, no less.”

Children? Zylah swallowed. Don’t let her touch you, Arioch had warned. And Zylah had presumed he’d meant Aurelia. But—she glanced at the shadow amongst the cobwebs, at the wolf, still unmoving, and she understood. “I didn’t know,” Zylah said, her grip tightening on her sword.

“They all say the same thing. Every disgusting male that enters the maze and meets their end. You are the first female in many years.” Click, click. Click .

“Please, get up,” Zylah murmured to the wolf beside her. “ Move .”

Glowing eyes found hers from the shadows, orblights illuminating a gaunt face, sharp cheekbones, jagged horns spiralling away from her head. Click. Click. Click. The woman stepped closer, and Zylah swallowed. Not a woman. A beast. The torso of a woman, skeleton ribs the same dark shell as the body that ended just below her breasts, waxy grey skin pulled taut across her chest, arms and face. Her hands, if they could be called that, were four elongated fingers, their tips narrowing to sharp points. Eight legs, exactly like those of the spiders Zylah had killed, only much, much larger.

Here was the beast Zylah had seen fighting with the cyon wolf, the source of the crying, the reason the wolf behind her couldn’t get up. And Zylah had killed two of her children . Shit. “My name is Zylah,” she offered, stalling, her voice tight.

A disapproving sound rattled in the air as the thing came closer, fingers raking through silky black hair that she’d pulled over her shoulders. “I have no use for your name.”

“Might I know yours?” Zylah asked. If she was right, if the wolf behind her had been paralysed by the spider’s touch, poisoned by venom, perhaps, then all it needed was time, and she would buy it.

The glowing eyes dimmed as the thing stopped, glassy black orbs taking Zylah in, her stance, no doubt, her sword. “My name was not meant to be pronounced with your tongue. But you may call me Rhaznia.”

Even from across the space, Zylah had to tilt her head back to meet Rhaznia’s eyes, and if the creature chose to attack, there would be no easy escape. Whatever Rhaznia was, she was old. Zylah dipped her chin in acknowledgement, wagering that respect would go further than contempt. “Speaking of disgusting males,” she began slowly. “I’ve spent the last few days running from one. His name is Raif. Ranon’s grandson.”

Rhaznia wailed, legs clicking and slamming into the dirt. “His flesh and blood?”

Zylah nodded. She hadn’t lowered her sword, though she suspected it would do little damage against the thick skeleton of Rhaznia’s body.

“He had a penchant for trapping things here,” the creature mused.

“He lives,” Zylah offered, hoping to stoke the embers of Rhaznia’s desire for retribution.

Another wail, halfway between a sob and a scream of frustration, and Rhaznia moved closer. “Where is he?”

A cold sweat chilled the back of Zylah’s neck, but she held her ground. “I don’t know. But his grandson does.”

“And because you have offered this information, you think I should allow you to leave? After you slaughtered two of my children? After you tried to set her free?” She raised one of those clawed fingers at the wolf, its hind legs twitching as if it were trying to move.

“Or I could help you trap him.” Zylah had no doubt that Rhaznia was more than capable of ensnaring Raif if she wished. But it was all she had to bargain with.

The creature paused, head tilted to one side as she assessed her prey. Click. One step closer. Click. Then another. Zylah took an instinctive step back, her heels almost brushing the wolf’s chest. Rhaznia laughed, but a roar cut her off, a low growl echoing through the space. Another cyon wolf.

“These things are worse than the parasites that live in these cursed tunnels,” Rhaznia spat.

The cyon wolf appeared as Rhaznia had, at first a shadow through the cobwebs until it was close enough for Zylah to see every jagged tooth, every whisker as it stalked closer, a low growl directed at her as she stood beside its friend. Zylah swallowed. This one was much larger, a male, if she had to guess, its yellow eyes narrowing. And the sight of her, sword in hand, the prone wolf behind her, did her no favours. The female rumbled quietly, and the male snarled again, head swinging to Rhaznia.

It pounced without warning, teeth smashing and snapping around one of Rhaznia’s arms, a scream rending the air.

Zylah knew she should leave. Should use the moment to run and not look back. But the female still lay unmoving behind her, eyes fixed on the male, a keening noise cutting over the sound of fighting, and Zylah’s heart twisted.

Rhaznia clawed at the male and Zylah ran, sliding under eight legs to slice her sword along the thing’s body, but her weapon only shuddered and scraped against the hard skeleton. A leg smashed down beside her head and Zylah rolled to her feet, swinging her sword at a joint. Rhaznia screamed as she fought the wolf, one hand reaching down to swipe at Zylah and narrowly missing. She wasn’t as lucky with the leg that pinned down her sword arm, a scream tearing from her lungs as agonising pain bloomed through her shoulder.

The wolf’s cry joined hers as Rhaznia flung the male to one side and stalked towards the female. Click. Click. Click.

“No!” Zylah screamed.

Rhaznia didn’t hesitate. A low whine escaped the female as one of Rhaznia’s legs slammed into her torso. The male lunged again, another of Rhaznia’s legs flicking out to kick it away like he was nothing more than a pebble despite the wolf’s great size.

Pain blackened Zylah’s vision. Beside her wounded arm, a skeleton lay slack jawed, its only remaining possession the tattered scraps of its clothing. She dragged herself upright, grinding her teeth against the agony in her shoulder. With one hand, she grabbed the flint and striking rock from her bag, snatched a leg from the skeleton. It wouldn’t miss it. Rhaznia murmured as she spun her web over the female, its blood stark and bright against the white strands, the male still unmoving where it had fallen.

With trembling hands and her sword arm protesting every movement, Zylah tore some fabric from the skeleton, wrapped it around the end of the bone and positioned the flint against it. One firm strike, and sparks spat onto the fabric, the cloth smoking immediately. Zylah loosed a steady breath onto it and flame erupted.

“Leave her alone!” She waved her makeshift torch and Rhaznia wailed. The creature turned to face Zylah, the firelight glinting in her eyes, against the blood staining her mouth, over the piece of flesh she held in her hand. Zylah’s breath faltered… Not flesh. A heart.

The male noticed at the same time she did, rising on trembling limbs and howling, its head thrown back. Zylah swung the torch at Rhaznia, another sharp stab of pain shooting through her shoulder and arm. With a final growl, the male cyon wolf limped away, leaving Zylah to face the monster alone. Now would have been the perfect time to evanesce, but no matter how hard Zylah tried to escape, she couldn’t. Fuck.

The creature flung the bloodied organ to one side. “What would your heart taste like, I wonder?”

Zylah didn’t answer. She pressed her torch to the cobwebs beside her, then flung it at Rhaznia’s face, the creature’s scream cutting the air as the weapon hit its mark. Zylah snatched up her sword and staggered after the male wolf as Rhaznia shrieked behind her.

“Zylah!” Raif’s voice echoed through the maze and Zylah almost froze at the sound, panic slicing through her like a blade.

Let him believe the cries were hers. Let him run right towards the monster. Zylah ran and ran, adrenaline cutting through the pain, Rhaznia’s screams chasing her into the darkness of the maze.