When Eva stepped through the gateway, she realized she had worried for nothing. The platform stood empty. Their steps left prints in the thick dust covering the floor. If an army had stood here, it had been long ago.
A doorway led into barracks, where rows of crumbling bed frames were barely discernible beneath the dust. Too large for goblin kind. Perhaps a commander had once led soldiers here, before the region had been defiled and given over to corruption.
Beyond lay a long hallway with iron staples set into the walls, leading to storerooms, armories, and holding pens from ages past, all equally abandoned. Even the vermin that infested the tunnel had no reason to come here.
They entered a chamber that opened onto a balcony overlooking the Abyss. Eva looked up in amazement. They were inside a fortress carved into the face of the rock. The view below was just as impressive.
The bottom of the Abyss spread before her—descending galleries, natural vaults taller than towers, black falls of stone, fumaroles breathing heat, and rivers winding through channels too dark to judge. Veins of lava lit the depths with an eerie orange glow.
Talus pointed toward the horizon, where a dark city of unimaginable scale rose from the depths. Dozens of drakes circled overhead.
“That is the way,” he said. “To Barry.”
Eva chuckled. Barry would be delighted with his new name. No doubt about it.
“We shouldn’t draw their attention,” Eva said. “I’m not sure a fight with the little dragons would end well.” She tried not to think about the real dragon waiting at the end of their journey.
She would send Talus away before then. If she died, that was her business. She wouldn’t drag him into it. But it was too late for that. She was sure he wouldn’t go. There was no choice now but to survive. Both of them. And Perry.
They went back inside and worked their way down through halls and stairways until they reached a courtyard. The entrance was blocked by massive slabs of stone even Talus couldn’t budge.
An entrance led down into the ground. They followed it until they reached a cistern. Talus stopped abruptly.
“Ghosts.” His face twisted with terror. He started to turn back.
The water was thick with old blood and scum. It could have washed down from butcheries on the upper levels. At the far end of the cistern, it spilled over the lip and disappeared into the darkness below. Three spectres stood in the middle of the room, directly in their path.
She placed a hand on his arm.
“Courage,” she whispered. She saw no way to cross without being noticed. She lowered her visor and drew her sword. Then she charged.
With a single swing, she severed one spectre’s head clean off. The others spun to face her. Surprise was on her side, but it wouldn’t last. She swung at the second, cleaving it in half.
The last spectre swung at her. It passed through her shield without harming her. So, it worked both ways. She struck back. The spectre turned solid just in time to catch her blade on it buckler. Her shield met his riposte.
With a savage cry, Talus was on it before it could turn spectral again. He tore at its skeletal form until, moments later, it collapsed into the foul water.
“Quickly. Let’s go.”
Talus didn’t argue. They splashed through the cistern, following the water downward until they reached a rusty iron grate. Talus ripped the grate free with a single tug.
They stepped out. They had reached the bottom. Or at least a bottom. The space opened before them, but there was no sign of life across the barren landscape. Only smoke and ash. And a drake soaring high overhead.
The stream had widened almost into a river, still thick with dark blood. It wound across the barren landscape.
“This is the way.” He led her along its bank.
“You’ve been here before?” she asked.
Talus nodded. Sadness crossed his face.
“She was a beautiful one. Sunk in the mud. Wise One said she came here.” He pointed into the distance. “There. Somewhere.”
“I’m sorry, Talus,” she said. “I said it was your fault. It wasn’t.”
They fell silent as they passed drake nests. They weren’t quite lairs, but warm shelves above veins of lava. Collapsed domes open to the fumes, their cavities blackened by old heat.
Eva’s heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t dare breathe as they crept past. But no drake appeared.
It was a long time before she dared speak again.
“What happened?”
“I swam the dark river, then the bright river. I lost my name.”
She remembered Leviathan. And the luminous river she’d woken beside. Could it be a river of forgetting?
“I know that river. I lost myself too. How did you come back?”
“Big One brought me roots. Friend. Long time. Came back. Lost beautiful one.”
“I’m glad you came back, Talus.”
“Talus,” he said softly. “Good name.”
They walked for hours, the dark city drawing closer. The scale was unfathomable. Cyclopean even. (Yes, Thoughtful, it’s “cyclopean” again. Find me a better word.)
It was dark and beautiful. Domes of onyx gleamed in the orange glow, almost golden from here. A bridge of black stone crossed a vast chasm of heat. An impossibly tall door stood ajar.
They stepped into a chamber built for assembly. Perhaps judgment, council, and decree. Ancient pillars, weathered and cracked, stretched to the ceiling.
A dozen satyrs stood with their arms crossed. Waiting.
In their midst stood one, hunched and ancient, yet still a head and shoulders above the rest. He was robed in maroon, embroidered with swirling designs of silver. His face was framed by majestic horns. His long hair and flowing beard blended with his gray fur.
He stepped forward, arms wide.
“Son, it’s time to come home.” His smile never reached his eyes.
