“Because the horrors I see when I sleep are real,” he said darkly. “They aren’t phantom scenarios made up by my own overactive imagination.”
There it was again. Mister bloody terror-topper. It still felt like a slap in the face. Real or imagined, the night haunted me with images and emotions I couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the scenarios that scared me anymore, but rather the feeling I was left with after I woke – relief, albeit temporary, to then be dragged down into fear again. My dreams were suggestions, imaginings of things that could happen, and a constant reminder of what I was running from.
“You’re right,” I said simply. “I’ve been selfish with my fantastical terrors. You must be quite sick of them when you’ve got your own ghosts to forget.”
“You know nothing of my ghosts.” Ethan turned back into the cave but stopped as I spoke again.
“I saw her, you know, in the ruins of Andor.” I kept my eyes on the moon, unsure as to whether Ethan would storm off or demand I stop speaking. “I saw all of them.” I paused, remembering the scene. “They looked at you and Ric with such pride and such sadness. They weren’t stuck in a lamenting, purgatorial existence.” Ethan listened silently. “When the woman looked up from beside you she was heartbroken to see you like that. That was the only pessimism they shared.” When he was silent for a moment too long I added, “Considering the bond you once shared I’m surprised you didn’t feel her beside you.”
“It was the risk I took. She was Gnathian, just like the others in Andor. If she didn’t die that day, she would have died many years after regardless,” he said quietly.
“That’s the kind of attitude that stops you from living life as you should,” I said. “Especially if Demons live as long as you say they do.” I perched on a large rock and closed my eyes. “Take a leaf out of our book for once. Fear should motivate you, not rule you.”
Ethan turned to look at me as I started to whistle. I, too, would die; if not by the hands of the Berserkers, or my own kind, then by the hands of time. Either Sembia or Gehn would welcome me into its kingdom as it had Rosa, long before it would welcome Ethan. I’m sure that frightened him more than he let on. How lonely it must be to live so long, and how cruel it was to fall in love with someone whose lifespan was but a wink in time compared to your own.
His feet shifted. Slowly, he skulked back to the fire and lay back down on his bedroll. Once again I stared up at the moon and whistled my familiar tune, praying to whoever was listening that it would lull him into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“IT CAN’T BE far now,” Daniel said from beside us. His horse whinnied at the presence of Ric’s beastly other side nearby.
“Look, I was told that he’d found the banner directly here.” Ethan crumpled his map in frustration.
Travelling blindly had added an extra couple of days to our journey. Eastbrook sat directly right of us and the sun would set between its twin peaks that evening. In front of us clouds of vapour hung over the geyser fields of Falloak, making the surrounding valley dense and sweaty. It felt almost like home. Just add the smell of thirty men at the end of a hard day’s work and I could be back at the Post. Above us the sky had turned milky as a faultless white cloud masked the brilliant blue above it, making the dull tones of the leaves stand out further.
Ric pulled his shirt closed as he arrived at our rest point. “Are you certain you were given the right coordinates?”
“I’ll tear his head from his shoulders if I wasn’t-”
My attention faded as the horse beneath me began to fidget. He grunted and swished his tail this way and that, his ears constantly listening to the sounds I couldn’t hear. I patted the muscles in his strong neck and spoke to him softly but nothing could calm him as he shook. I dismounted but the moment my feet touched the ground I was hit with an odd feeling. Had I seen this place in a dream? No, I didn’t recognise it as I looked around us. In the dense green a small, moss-covered tablet stuck out at knee height and grabbed my attention. The others were too busy arguing to notice my advance on the surrounding treeline.
Around us the world had already started to decay as though the seasons held no sway; perhaps it was the incessant dampness that caused the leaves to rot faster. The moment we’d stepped into the geyser’s reach the world turned from green to brown and black, yet the moss on the tablet was bright, almost a luminous green in colour. I picked at the stone until the symbol beneath became visible: the crest of Adrian.
I looked up, searching the forest for another. Ahead I saw them, stone after moss-covered stone lining the withered path to the edge of the trees, each shining out against the murky brown floor. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was moving away from the others until Ethan called my name. By then, however, I’d already breached through the wall of dense foliage around us.
A dirty-grey structure loomed ahead, easily twenty times the size of Willow’s home. As I crossed the expansive pasture it was clear that the manor was once a grand and beautiful place, though a few hundred years ago the geyser fields probably weren’t so aggressive or developed. The hand-carved stone still stood strong beneath the centuries of climbing ivy and lichens, and despite the rotten windowsills most of the windows were intact. The walls surrounding the perimeter had long since crumbled and the once well-kept grounds were overrun with weeds and wildflowers. A foul smell filled the air as I approached the wooden entrance gates and reached out to lay a hand on the old knocker. When I put the slightest amount of pressure on the metal handle it fell, causing both doors to buckle inwards. Its putrefied wood and damp-loving bugs had explained the smell at least.
Better rotting wood than rotting bodies.
“You reckless bloody-”
I shushed him and ducked, listening to the house creak and moan, speaking to the world around us. The large front door had been pushed from its hinges by a blanket of invasive vines, leaving the entranceway dark and open like a patient mouth waiting for a few tasty morsels to clamber inside.
“It looks deserted,” Ethan started, “but we don’t know for certain what might have made its home in there.”
“So long as it isn’t an Ambernax, I don’t care.” I looked to Ric as he appeared next to us and he waved me off. “They’re a rioting nuisance to dispose of, always moulding themselves to look like the people around you. Luckily they can’t talk and can’t hide their tails.” I shivered.
“Daniel, hurry up.” Ethan looked back irritably as Daniel sidled along, taking in the sight.
“I’d heard endless stories of this place but had never believed I’d set eyes on it.” He started toward the manor. “It was all Mother would ever talk about.”
“I didn’t know you were that old,” Ric said, following his lead.