Vesper nodded. Since the horses were laden with gear and baggage, the rest of the journey would be taken afoot, leading them to the entrance and through the steep cavern until they reached the tunnel. Vesper pointed two fingers to his eyes then turned his hand outward to encompass the surroundings: Keep a lookout.
Five years earlier, when Vesper lost the ability to connect mentally, he’d determined to find another way to communicate in silence, so he might still traverse the snowy drifts and powdery banks without causing avalanches. In one of his and Lady Lyra’s exchanges, she mentioned her prime minister was teaching her sign language shared between their kingdoms centuries earlier. Vesper appointed his royal litterateur to find records, so he might master it himself. Although the princess admitted since then that she hadn’t much patience for the learning, Vesper continued to study the scrolls of the ancient language and assured everyone in Nerezeth’s high court and military forces knew it as well.
My flask is leaking, Selena signed to Vesper while still atop her mount. She bent over to search through her saddlebag where water stains darkened the leather. Her long braid swung across Dusklight’s flank, the colors so close they blended together beneath the moon’s glow.
Vesper caught Cyprian watching his sister beneath his white lashes. The skull painted upon his friend’s face had little hope of hiding the tender, lovelorn expression behind it. Yet somehow, Selena was blind to it. The prince wondered if his friend would ever be brave enough to tell her.
Preparing to dismount, Vesper hesitated as something shifted the powder beside Dusklight’s left hoof. Nysa’s floppy brown ears perked and she barked, spurring the jackdaws to screech in their cages. The spaniel wriggled from her perch before Selena could catch her.
A pale, bony tentacle hurled out from the snow, scattering tufts of white mist into the air. Nysa leapt at it. Selena guided Dusklight’s hooves to safety while whistling for her dog. The spine-like plant uncoiled to the size of a boa constrictor, then snapped its barbed tip out to catch Nysa’s long, furry tail. The dog yelped, disappearing into a snow drift—leaving only drag marks. All ten horses squealed and shimmied, ears back, scattering as their riders attempted to calm them.
Vesper threw off his fur cape and dove from Lanthe’s saddle to tackle the retreating end of the bramble. He hit the ground with a metallic thud that echoed through his abdomen. Selena attempted to dismount but Dusklight released a panicked neigh and reared. Selena leaned into her knees to stay balanced. Vesper spun through the snow and plunged an arm into the drift where Nysa’s yelping form had vanished. Knees straddled around the bramble, Vesper dragged out the sneezing, gasping ball of fur. The spaniel nipped at her tail, trying to free it from the vine. Vesper struggled to help her while the rest of his troop slid from their mounts. Amidst the muffled chaos, Vesper sensed instead of heard the mental shouts taking place between Cyprian and the others.
The prince pounded the bramble, the spiny points eating through his gloved fists. His brisk movements captured the predator’s attention. It released the dog, threw Vesper off balance, then lashed out at him instead. Vesper snapped up his left arm to block his face and the bramble twisted around it. Spiky stingers shoved through his eel-skin uniform but were unable to breach his gold-plated forearm. Scrambling to his knees, he pulled up fast to stretch the bramble taut, using his stiffened limb like a pry bar.
The sun-smugglers contained the bucking horses as Cyprian and the foot soldiers gathered around Vesper with handheld shovels. Boring through the snow, they found the vine’s entry point in the frozen ground. Selena hacked away with an axe until the bramble split apart, releasing the prince. The tentacle continued to thrash, seeking a new victim. It could live for weeks without its roots, so long as it had marrow to feed upon. But this one was chopped to bits by Selena’s blade and the others’ shovels. The pieces shriveled and turned gray then scattered on the wind. Vesper plugged the exposed root socket—a hollow white tube—with a cloth doused in mineral acid. It curled upon itself, withered and dead.
Panting, Vesper accepted Cyprian’s help to stand. His muscles ached, his left elbow drizzled golden blood, and the skull paint on his face blurred his eyes as wet and cold droplets ran down his forehead from sweat and snow. He shivered, but there was warmth, too. Back before he was infected by sunlight—before it altered him internally—battling the elements used to fire his rage, feed his determination to prove he belonged. Sometimes, he missed that rage. However, tonight, he’d managed to use his golden affliction as an advantage. At least some good had come of his mutating form.
After scooping up Nysa, Selena rushed over and hugged him. Vesper held her—cheek pressed to her head. It wasn’t often they were open with their affections; Selena kept a respectful distance and abided the rules of obeisance when in the presence of court and council. But here, among friends, Vesper welcomed it. Having once known what it was like to avoid contact for fear of searing his loved ones’ flesh, he refused to take such moments for granted.
Nysa shoved her muzzle against his ear to lick it, leaving behind a wash of slobber and dog scent. Vesper grinned and rubbed the scruff of her neck. “Glad you’re all right, little spitfire,” he said on a quiet breath.
“Thank you for saving her,” Selena whispered.
He nodded, knowing she would’ve done the same for Lanthe. He and his sister shared a deep compassion for animals, and each had their favorites. His was an affinity for the equestrian lot. They understood and accepted him in a way few people did.
“You’re hurt,” Selena said, preoccupied with the rip in his left sleeve and the flaxen-red smear of blood.
“It’s just a few shallow cuts. Not worth stitching up.” He was spared her fussing when Cyprian offered her Dusklight’s reins and then turned to Vesper with Lanthe’s.
“What do you think it was?” Cyprian asked.
“It was smaller than a man’s leavings,” Vesper answered as he ran his hands across his stallion’s legs—checking the joints and bones—then lifted each hoof to ensure the spiked shoes remained secure and free of debris. Lanthe stood patiently for the examination, his tail swishing from side to side. “Had to have been a hoarfrost goblin’s corpse. Must’ve sprouted over the last week for the scythe-cleansing to have missed it.”
Cyprian nodded. “These treks would be easier by far would they concede to living among us, or at least take part in our censuses.”
Vesper shrugged back into his fur cape. “Until they trust us enough to abide our laws or respect our ruling class, there’s not much chance of that.”
For centuries Vesper’s kingdom had tried to make peace with the small anthropoids, but it was forfeit. Goblins were envious—coveting the height, power, and humanness of the Nerezethites. They wanted places of prestige on the council, yet their jealous and shifty ways made it difficult to trust them. Over time, they’d become reclusive, their stick-thin bodies and rough-textured skin blending into the gray-glazed trees they now called home. Since they weren’t an official populace of the kingdom, it was impossible to keep track of their deaths out in the wilds.
Vesper gripped the bridle and coaxed his stallion’s large head close. He pressed his cheek against Lanthe’s curled forelock. Although every person in the troop was desensitized to cadaver-bramble venom, horses couldn’t build up such an immunity, making it risky for them outside of the province. Thus, they were ridden out only for trips into Eldoria.
“Sorry, old boy. My promise for a safe trek was a bit premature. Hope you didn’t lose any footing with your lady love.” Lanthe nudged him. Vesper grinned. His stallion had the best sense of humor of any horse he’d ever met.
Cyprian and the others fell into line once more for the walk to the cavern’s entrance. The horses’ unsettled snorts took up again as Vesper felt a thundering in the soles of his boots. He glanced over his shoulder at a wall of snow tumbling down and swelling toward them like a wave—triggered by the earlier uproar.
“Avalanche!” Vesper and Cyprian shouted simultaneously. Everyone vaulted atop their mounts and galloped for the Rigamort’s entrance, leaping within only seconds before the flurried rush enveloped the trail and the trees they’d wound through just minutes before.
Vesper was all but blind in the sudden darkness. The sound of metallic-spiked hooves scraped the ice and the dank of cold stone stung his nose. Nine pairs of eyes lit to amber glows around him. He dismounted and drew his sword. Selena slid from her saddle and flipped her dagger from its scabbard with all the skill and dexterity of any foot soldier.