“I do not believe that man is as cracked as he appears,” Elaina’s priest whispered to Aimi. “He may actually be as old as these ruins.”
“Let’s bloody well hope so,” Aimi said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because if he ain’t, then none of us have a clue where we’re going.”
She’d been right about the light. By the time they reached the temple, the last rays were disappearing over the tops of the gigantic buildings that surrounded them. Even worse were the long shadows that turned simple doorways into dark voids housing hundreds of terrors. There was something else too. Aimi couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was being watched.
It was a strange sensation, like insects crawling over her skin between her shoulders, and she always felt it when unknown eyes were tracking her. After years of working in a tavern, surrounded by pirates, she’d come to trust the unease.
“That it?” Smithe said, disbelief plain in his voice.
“Yes,” Kebble said with a smile. “The Temple of the Grace.”
“Grace? That the god’s name?”
Kebble shook his head. “I will not speak his true name.”
“Why not?” Pavel said.
“Because I am the only one alive who remembers it, and I would prefer it lost and forgotten.” Kebble laughed. “I’m a little bitter.”
The temple was squat compared to the buildings around it. It was long and wide and stood only a few storeys tall, topped with a domed roof surrounded by a wide saucer-like ledge supported by pillars that rose up out of the earth. Vines clung to the building like leeches, winding their way up the pillars and infesting the windows, yet no damage seemed to have been done to the structure.
Aimi glanced at the nearby buildings and then back to the temple. “Ain’t none of the others covered in those vines,” she said quietly. “Why, then, is the temple?”
The rest of the party looked equally as stumped, and even Kebble offered no answer to the question.
“I don’t like this,” Aimi continued, again feeling like she was being watched. “Something here ain’t right.”
“Stow it, bitch,” Smithe growled. “Cap’n ain’t here to flap ya cunt at, and I’m in charge. Treasure is in there, and that’s where we’re going. Ain’t fucking leaving this shit hole without some sort of payoff.”
Aimi looked at Kebble. The immortal merely shrugged in return. The remaining light was fading fast, and if they went inside the temple, Aimi guessed it would be well into the night by the time they came back out.
“Let’s get some torches lit then,” Smithe said after a few long moments of everyone standing around, clearly not wanting to go any further. “Stick close and keep ya eyes open for anything might be worth something, eh?”
“I will wait out here,” Kebble said.
“Fuck that, mate,” Smithe snapped, instantly squaring up to the marksman. “You the only one knows where shit is. We need ya in there.”
Kebble shook his head slowly. “I will never again set a foot in the temple of that god. He’s the bastard who cursed me. Besides, I’ll wager you’re all safer in there without me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I will wait out here.”
Smithe growled and stalked away.
“Can I wait out here too?” Jotin said, his voice quivering.
“No!” Smithe shouted. “Everyone else is coming with me. Now.”
There was a small set of steps leading up to the temple entrance, only eight in total, each more foreboding than the last as Aimi mounted them. Even the flickering torch she lit did little to bolster her courage. There was simply something off about the entire city, and the feeling was stronger here. One glance at the rest of the group convinced her they all felt the same way. Even Smithe looked worried, fat drops of sweat beading on his forehead.
The door to the temple was made of stone, and it looked as pristine as the day it had been made. There was no visible lock, only a number of designs chiselled into its surface. Aimi recognised none of the symbols and had little time to study them. Smithe handed his torch to Jotin, placed his hands against the door, and pushed. The sound of stone grating against stone shattered the quiet. It seemed unnaturally loud, echoing around the city behind them.
As the door slowed to a gentle rest, every last one of the company peered inside with their emotions plain, ranging from mild distrust to outright terror. The room inside was darker than night and eerily still. For a long while they all stared, straining their eyes and ears, no one wanting to be the first to venture inside.
“Anybody else hear that scratching?” Alfer said.
“Rats,” Smithe assured them in a voice that sounded far from sure.
“Riiiight,” Alfer said.
“What else could it be?” Smithe said.
“Lad,” said the older man, “you do not want me to answer that question.”
“Ah, fuck this cowardly shit.” Smithe snatched his torch back from Jotin and walked into the temple. The quartermaster took five paces forwards and waved his torch about a bit before turning to the rest of them, still crowded around the entrance. “Well, come the fuck on then. This place ain’t exactly gonna loot itself.”
Chapter 39 - Starry Dawn
The darkness dictated their decision to stop far more than any certainty that they’d lost Bronson and the spirits that infested him. They’d crossed skybridges, changed directions through buildings, and even leapt a few gaps of significant distance. If they hadn’t lost Bronson by now, they weren’t going to, so they might as well turn and fight.
They were inside a building, and it looked like it might once have been a bakery or some such. There was a large stone oven in one corner of the room, long unused, and a number of dusty stone tabletops. Elaina leaned against one of the tables and sucked in deep breaths of cool air. She was far from tired, and her blood was up. Excitement from the chase coursed through her veins. A laugh bubbled up from deep inside and burst out of her mouth.
“What are you laughing at?” Keelin said between deep breaths of his own.
“Same thing you are, I reckon,” Elaina replied with a wink.
Keelin nodded, chuckling. “Just like old times, eh?”
“Never could decide if it was you or me who kept finding the trouble, but we were always both running from it.”
“It was you,” Keelin said with a grin.
Elaina snorted. “Well, that’s a lot of shit if ever I heard it.” She stood and stretched her back, bending over backwards into a handstand and then letting her momentum carry her upright. Keelin was leaning against a wall, watching her with a familiar glint in his eyes.
Elaina sauntered over to him. “I seem to remember it was you who came up with the plan to pinch ol’ Farley’s last bottle of brandy reserve.”
Keelin grinned again. “My idea, sure. You stole it though.”
Elaina moved closer still, close enough that she could smell Keelin’s sweat. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, and it should probably have turned her off, but it was having quite the opposite effect. There was nothing like a good heart-pounding chase or fight to get the blood up, and there was no aphrodisiac quite like danger.
“Seem to remember we both drank it,” Elaina said, taking another step closer until her breasts pushed against Keelin’s chest. She stared at him. His breath was coming quick and ragged.
Elaina lunged forwards, nipping at Keelin, catching his lip between her teeth and tugging gently. It appeared to be all the invitation he needed.
Keelin surged forwards, picking Elaina up and turning them both around, shoving her against the wall. A gasp escaped her lips and then Keelin’s own were against them. There, staring down into his cold steel eyes, Elaina saw the ghost of the man he used to be, the man he really was but seemed to have forgotten.