Chapter Twelve

ACT II


Whistlers

PART TWO
And we CHOKED’em with those words.

I will not weary you with the history of the next year, for the adventures of a man who sinks are too trite to be worth recalling.

ARTHUR MACHEN
The Three Imposters

I froze, not knowing which way to jump.

MARIANNE DELACOURT
Sharp Shooter

CHAPTER TWELVE

All or Nothing

“It’s just a feeling I have.”

AVERY

Provinces
Sandia
Aquamarine (March) 13

“Wait. Start over,” Jace was saying.

It had taken Relic a few minutes to find Cedwyn, who was raiding a general store the next block over. The discovery of great brown duck eggs – still fresh enough for breakfast – convinced him Sandia had not been empty quite as long as it looked to be.

Here was one place where the tang of spices, not decay, hung heavy in the air.

Cedwyn was pawing determinedly through a rack of cured meats when Relic started talking. By the time his comrade stopped for a full breath, the thought of food was all but forgotten: They nearly forgot to take any bacon at all. Cedwyn doubled back to snatch a thick-cut rasher.

Across the street, they’d found the others—

Isabelle was carefully heating up some kind of stew on the stove. To judge from the smell, it was part of her water rations, their last few potatoes, and whatever remained her rosewater perfume. That scent had given Relic pause, but Cedwyn elbowed him through the door.

Jace was awake and dressed, but bleary-eyed as if sleep had been elusive. He was pushing idly in an old wooden rocking chair and playing with a sun dial he had found, poking at the gnomon to see it go back and forth. He lazily waved one hand as the pair entered.

The only other sound as Relic spoke was the ting-ting-ting of Isabelle stirring the pot.

He launched into the same explanation that he had offered Cedwyn minutes before ...

Relic knew when he saw Jace’s eyes widen, then narrow, that he had lost The Kid.

Glancing upward, he mentally backtracked—

“Large corvids – ravens and crows and things – go where the food is.” He waved his notes as he talked, pages fluttering as he did. “At the time we arrived here, there were dozens of them. Now, they’re returning to the desert in greater numbers every hour.”

“Right. And that means ...”

“Whatever nourishment they found here is almost exhausted.”

Jace had stopped toying with the sundial, but now traced his finger through the air as if tracking the progress of Relic’s birds, his eyes exaggeratedly following them back and forth. When Relic paused to make eye contact again, he said: “Okay, Bookshelf. What good does that do us?”

“If one place is drawing so many birds, it could be a clue to what happened. A food store or—”

“Or a body,” Isabelle said in a strikingly calm voice. “From the sounds of it, more than one.”

Relic nodded tightly. “There is that.”

Jace’s gaze drifted lazily to Cedwyn as if to say: Are you buying this?

Cedwyn raised his eyebrows in response and redirected his gaze to Relic.

“Sandia was built on bedrock,” Relic went on. “It makes sense that there could be underground cellars beneath the city. But I went through as many of the town’s surveys and maps as I could find last night, and there’s no record of anything like that.”

“So, you’re telling me a whole city ... turtled up?”

Cedwyn interjected, “That wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened lately.”

Bouncing to his feet, Jace stretched his arms, then turned his head one way and another.

“But nobody’s come up to say hello. Doesn’t that seem a little bit odd to you?”

“They might not know we’re here,” said Relic.

“Or they could think we’re the enemy,” Isabelle added. “Even if they know who we are.”

There was a moment of silence after that.

“Let’s get on it,” said Jace. “In an hour. That stew’s starting to smell pretty good.”

“It’ll be even better if we give it some more time,” Cedwyn said meaningfully.

Jace looked around himself, his gaze settling last on Relic.

He hadn’t seen that look on Bookshelf’s face since they split up on the road.

“Yeah, alright,” Jace said. “We’ll do it now. Don’t blame me if the perfume stew’s overcooked.”

They rose wearily to their feet, each one privately hoping for some good luck.

Three hours later, even Relic was starting to wish they had stopped to eat.

Working in pairs, the Outriders had swept through every building on both sides of the street from where Relic saw the ravens take flight. They came upon moldering food; rooms in disarray with things scattered about; even someone’s pet asp, who was none too pleased by current events.

But they did not find a single trace of any human.

As Relic sat on a stoop, sipping his canteen in a quick break, Jace’s shadow fell over him.

“Looks like your birds flew the coop, Rel,” he said. “Snake’s a pretty close second, though.”

“Hmmm ...” Relic was still looking straight ahead, acknowledging Jace only with a murmur and the slightest tilt of his head. Off at the end of the row, he saw Isabelle turn the corner. Cedwyn was just a step behind, and they were trudging up the street empty-handed.

“I don’t get it,” Relic said, standing and slowly turning a circle.

His gaze coasted along the view around them, falling on one piece of scenery at a time: A faded mural depicting an oversized bottle of tonic; a few piece of petrified animal dung, carefully stacked; a lone tumbleweed caught on the wreck of a stockade fence—

The well.

It was the very same one he’d noticed before, but from the other side of the street. Now, in daylight, he wondered what had attracted his attention the first time.

“Well, Relic, you kn—” Jace trailed off as he saw Relic start to walk away. “—okay, I guess you’re going now,” he concluded under his breath, giving the others an exaggerated shrug as they arrived beside him. Quietly, they stood and watched while Relic bent down.

Chalked on the stones of the well was a strange shape.

At first he thought it was an hourglass, the bottom half full and the top empty.

Then, a lightless lantern: The top half a mere outline to show there was no light.

“Guys,” Relic asked as he pushed himself to his feet, “do we have any rope?”

Isabelle and Cedwyn both looked at Jace, knowing what, apparently, Relic did not.

“Yes,” Jace said after a sigh. “Mind telling me why you would want to go down there?”

Relic stood to full height, slowly, and then took another second to brush himself off. He turned and looked back down the road, to the giant bronze statue.

“I’m not sure I could actually put it into words. It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Mmhm. And what does that mean?”

“It means I can’t say exactly why I─”

Jace closed his eyes and sighed again.

“No. Bookshelf. I mean, what does …” He motioned casually down to the chalked shape on the stones, but he never broke eye contact with Relic. “… that mean?”

Relic nodded quickly, a little sheepishly.

“Ah. Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Well, truthfully, I have no idea.” He took a step back, a little closer to the well, and sat on the circular ledge. Hanging his head, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Although there are certain clues. A simple glyph, meant to be recognizable to—”

“You have a better idea?” Cedwyn asked, cutting him off.

“No,” Jace admitted. “I don’t. So does that mean it’s a good one to crawl down a well in the middle of a mysteriously abandoned city?” He pursed his lips into a sarcastic kind of pout. “Yeah, not so sure about that.”

“You should go get your rope,” Isabelle said suddenly.

Jace looked over to her, obviously surprised.

“I haven’t even seen it since we─”

“Yeah,” Isabelle cut him off. “You should go get it.”

Jace looked back to the well and found Relic was now looking up at him. He didn’t have to look to Cedwyn to know that he was as well. “Fine. Great.” He gave them all a resigned thumbs up and rolled his eyes. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

With that, Jace turned around and started back down the road, toward the pawn shop.

The boredom was closing in on him; he felt its weight growing with every step he took.

The burble of the others’ voices faded in the background, replaced in his mind with the wordless resentment he had carried a thousand miles. Just as a little puzzle, a game, he tried to force words on it, but that only made it worse: How could they be so focused? How could they—

How could he—

Be sitting here putting together clues, having feelings—

While Jace, the famous one, the so-called “hero,” barely felt anything?

If only that overdressed tabloid hadn’t made the phrase Night of the Outriders – and the name Jace Dabriel – famous overnight. If only he could have stopped at any backwater in the Republic without someone recognizing those stormy gray eyes.

If only he could have had a little more time alone with Isabelle before they’d been sent here.

Jace laid his hand on the doorknob of their temporary stable, regarding the worn old sign that proclaimed its former life to be that of Burnhardt Stone’s Pawn and Curiosities. Now it was just as abandoned as the rest, and the curiosities didn’t seem very curious to the likes of him.

If only he could remember—

He patted Snow on the mane as he passed her on the way to Highfly.

That dolorous silence. The sea-tang. Foreign heraldry so intricate, he couldn’t have made it up.

“Not yet, buddy,” Jace said as he walked up and started fiddling with one of the saddle bags. “Just need a little rope. You rest up a while longer.” As he looked down to the rope, he could have sworn the horse gave him an incredulous look—why are you doing this?

“Horses always were the best at side-eye,” he told himself.

The glint of knives, and coins, and crowns. Another life. A fairer life. If only—

As Jace fumbled with the buckle, he could see it clearly in his mind’s eye: Dropping the task at hand, jumping into the saddle, and riding out. He would bolt past his friends, into the mountains; he would toss them a little wave as he left them all behind. He could forget—

If only he had some feverlew, just a little. One more hit. Then he would know.

Then—

“Then I’d be dead and none of this would matter,” he told himself, a manic grin on his face. That was a tempting thought in its own way. He forced himself to breathe, and the in-out rush of air wiped out some lingering tatters of the dreams seeping ever-further into his waking life.

Highfly nudged him with his head and neighed, startling him out of his reverie.

Just a little.

“Easy there, boy, easy.” Jace withdrew the coil of rope, transferred the weight of it over his shoulder, and reclosed the bag. As he looked up, he swore the other horses were looking at him exactly as their riders had back at the well. Maybe they, too, could sense his distance.

Maybe they, too, were dreaming of a life they had lived. Or should be living.

“Yeah, yeah. Mind your own business.” Jace walked back toward the door just as a warm breeze blew in through the large, open window and the open door. He kept his back to the horses. “Everyone’s a critic,” he added as he exited back out onto the street.

Isabelle had been listening carefully to Relic’s story, but now she interrupted.

“But why would it keep saying nevermore like that?”

She turned to Cedwyn. At length, he simply shrugged.

“Why do you always assume I’m going to know the answers to questions like that?”

“Um. Gee, I dunno,” Isabelle responded, her voice rolling side to side with the too-deep pitch of Cedwyn Knight, her impression of him honed over the years to sarcastic perfection. Relic made the mistake of laughing, and that only annoyed her more.

She did a double-take between the two before focusing on Cedwyn again, her eyes narrow.

“Maybe it’s because you always know more than we do about everything. Maybe it’s because I seem to recall you sending me out to find a mirror, and when I got back, you were in the middle of a little art project that looked just like this hourglass symbol. Before I ended up—”

“It didn’t look like that,” Cedwyn answered, deadpan yet a little frustrated.

“Oh, then please, enlighten us—”

Cedwyn winced a little at the word choice.

“Exactly what did ...”

Cedwyn stood up sharply, raising his hands to stop her short—

And turned as Jace Dabriel himself rounded the corner, leaning jauntily against a lamp-post.

There was no telling how long he had been there, and they all knew it.

“Did I interrupt something? You know, they say timing is everything.”

“We were just—” Cedwyn started to say.

“Thinking,” Relic interrupted. Cedwyn gave him a long, heavy look. “Out loud. That’s all.”

Jace Dabriel was not even looking. “Well, think away,” he said; His hands, half-dreaming, described a knot far stronger than those taught at Firefly Farms; a knot strong enough to hold a grown man, though he wasn’t quite sure if he had ever practiced it before.

He could feel the heat of their gazes on him; could’ve picked out each one individually.

He didn’t want to deal with it; didn’t want to answer the questions he knew they were asking.

So, it was time to say something stupid again.

He took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder to shoot a broad smile back at them—

“As for me, I think it’s best if we just concentrate on seeing what the story is down this well.”

He finished tying the knot and started toward the stone, letting the rope slide through his hands as he pulled it behind him. Reaching the edge of the well, he put his boot on the stone ledge. If he looked a little further, he could have peered into the darkness.

A light little laugh bubbled up from him, really selling his line:

“There’ll be time enough later for everything else. Sound good?”

When they didn’t respond to him, he nodded to himself.

Good.

Without another word, he tossed the rope down the well, and they heard it slap solid ground not far below, an echo multiplying the simple sound a dozen times. Jace pulled the rope hard, more for show than anything else, and then started his descent. He didn’t even look back.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows to Cedwyn, silently recalling some earlier conversation—

And Cedwyn nodded, conceding a point. Relic, for his part, tried to look like he understood.

Then he saw the horror in Isabelle’s eyes and he really did understand: Jace is getting worse.

Relic put his hands on the top of the cold cobblestone rim, just above where the symbol was written. It was strange, he thought, that he could not see the bottom, given how bright the day was; that only made him wonder even more about what could be concealed below.

“You alright down there, Dabriel? What do you see?”

“Next to nothing,” Jace said, and he meant that literally.

Above him was the circle of streaming sunlight outlining the well’s opening, only a fraction of its luminance escaping between Relic’s dark silhouette. The grasping darkness enclosing Jace was all the worse for eyes adjusted to Sandia’s harsh morning glare.

An instant later and Relic joined him, his boots hitting the ground hard.

He stepped to the side to allow room for the others; before long, the four Outriders were amassed together in the subterranean shadows. Isabelle was still holding the rope, almost leaning on it as she glanced around, letting her eyes adjust.

“Well, Avery?” Cedwyn said. He took a tinderbox out of his bag, struck it with a flint and it flared to life, casting them all in a golden halo. While Isabelle drew closer to the light, Avery himself was far more interested in the composition of the nearby wall.

“Well ...” Relic said, prompting him.

“You got us all down here.” Cedwyn acknowledged, taking a step forward in the direction they all were facing. There was a tunnel stretching on before them for as far as they could see, which wasn’t far, in truth. “Good work. Now what?”

“Well,” a voice said behind them, and the Outriders spun toward it. “Now you must follow me.”

In a flash, all four Outriders had their crossbows drawn. Cedwyn had drawn just one, in his free hand, all while holding the tinderbox steady enough to outline their target in the gloom. It was a masterful maneuver, but there was no time to fully appreciate it—

Before them was a boy who couldn’t have been more than …

Isabelle lowered her weapon a fraction.

“Who—?”

“Are you guys really Outriders?” the boy asked, utterly unfazed by the weapons.

“We are,” said Jace.

“Neat,” the kid said, one hand on his hip. “I thought so.”

“Who are you?” Isabelle blurted, finishing her thought.

“You can call me Gabe,” the boy said with a shrug. Then he looked at Relic. “Gabe for now,” he repeated, lowering his chin ever-so-slightly for emphasis. Then he looked to Cedwyn. “You won’t need that,” he said. He waved his hand and an arcane light overtook them: Crystals stood embedded in the walls, exactly like the lantern they had seen the previous night.

“Gabe …,” Relic whispered, but trailed off in a tone that betrayed his memories of the wagon in Westwood Forest.

“Yes. Madame Rogette said you were coming. So I’ll take you to see her now.”

“Madame … Rogette,” Jace said slowly, as if looking for co formation that he had heard that right. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Relic, and then Relic turned back to the kid.

“Jaden,” Relic said.

Gabe nodded.

“She said you were coming. Let’s go.”

With that, he turned and started walking away into the fast-receding darkness.

The Outriders could see that more lights were following wherever he went.

Cedwyn slowly reattached his crossbow to his belt and extinguished the tinderbox. With the soft light from the stones, their eyes seemed to adjust instantly; they found themselves feeling more relaxed and alert than they ever had up above.

But his mood was no better.

“Something you two wanna clue us into here?” he snapped.

“Later,” Relic said. “If we have to.”

Relic! Focus!

He followed the kid without a second thought.

Isabelle looked over to Cedwyn, who flinched when he realized she was watching him.

“Well, why not?” he said through a sigh, putting his tinderbox back into his bag.

Cedwyn and Isabelle watched Jace’s back as he nonchalantly returned his weapons to his belt as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

And the Outriders followed the arcane light deep, deep into the earth.

Chapter Thirteen  (E) Serpent’s Grotto #2190507 by Dan Hiestand