Page 8 of Destroyer

“Hey,” said Rosylla.

Ru started. She hadn’t noticed the woman come up beside her as they rode.

“I came to check on you,” said the rider, holding out a canteen, its strap flapping in the breeze. “You look catatonic. Coffee? It’s cold, but it’ll do the job.”

Ru shook her head. Her heart didn’t need another reason to speed against her ribs. “I’m fine.”

“You look… a little peaky.”

“I’m fine,” repeated Ru, knowing full well that she wasn’t. She didn’t like being here. She wanted to turn around and flee. Whatever they were doing here, whatever this dig site uncovered, Ru wanted nothing to do with it. The Shattered City was a graveyard. Cursed. A memory of nightmares.

Rosylla’s face softened. “Is this your first time at the crater?”

They were passing another piece of rock that seemed to burst outward from the earth, its shadow falling alongside them. She stared uneasily at it, at its obvious nature — man-made, probably a chunk of wall, with some lines between bricks of stone still visible. The elements had smoothed it over countless centuries, lessening its brutality.

But Ru was no less struck by it, her gut no less sickened.

“Yes,” Ru replied belatedly, the words thick on a dry tongue. Of course she had never been here. Travel to the Shattered City was forbidden by law unless you had special dispensation from the regency. Had Rosylla been here? The rider seemed so light, so calm, as if she watched the sun rise over enormous fingers of stone every day.

She glanced at Ru. “It can be a bit… off-putting. I got a stomach ache the first time I saw one of those rocks up close.”

Ru swallowed roughly. “They're… the remains of the city. Fragments, blown outward. I’ve seen illustrations, but… none of them really capture it.” Her skin crawled as more of the massive stones came into view, their shadows reaching for her across dark terrain. Ru felt the telltale wash of blood leaving her face, and her vision swam.

And even though she dreaded seeing the crater, she felt equally drawn to it. Her heart quickened as if she had been waiting to come here, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling with fear, and… what felt like anticipation. And as she rode, gazing toward a destination she couldn't see, she felt as if something inside her was just now waking up.

The feeling terrified her. Not because it felt wrong — on the contrary, in fact. She felt a pull toward the crater, a touch that was somehow strange yet familiar.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” asked Rosylla. The wind picked up and the rider lifted a hand to her hat, its plume fluttering wildly.

Ru nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yes please.”

“Right,” said the other woman. “I heard you believe in magic. Is that true?”

The cinnamon bun roiled in Ru’s stomach. That touch in her mind, the strange pulling sensation, grew stronger as they rode. She gripped the reins until her knuckles whitened. Her horse jostled beneath her with every step.

Ignore it, she thought.You’re imagining it.A sweat broke out on her neck, her upper lip.

If she were to round down for the times when Sky trotted, calculating roughly three trots throughout the trip, possibly one canter, and then an hour for supper—

“I’ve said the wrong thing, haven’t I?” said Rosylla, when Ru didn’t reply. “It’s all right. Never mind. Let’s see… Do you like croquet? It's all the rage at the palace.”

Ru wished with every fiber of her being that she was in a tended garden right this moment, held within the structural confines of a flouncy, corseted gown, chasing little wooden balls through decorative topiary. Instead, she was here, with this… this compulsion taking hold of her like a finger pulling at her consciousness, drawing her forward with an urgency she couldn't understand.

Nausea rose in her gut with every step. Blood roared in her ears. The sky pressed down on her like a weight.

Come to me, a voice seemed to say. No, not a voice... a thought, a feeling. Calling out for her.

Swallowing bile that rose in her throat, Ru glanced at Rosylla. Did the rider feel it too?

But Rosylla only smiled, her brows drawing together in slight concern as she took in the sight of Ru.

Understandably, Ru thought — she must look ghastly, the sweaty sheen of her sickly pale face, hunched over the neck of her horse as if her life depended on staying in the saddle, resisting the call.

“Ru?” Rosylla said, but her voice sounded as if it was coming from miles away.

Then Ru heard the rider call something to the others, heard her own name amidst a jumble of muffled nonsense. The roaring in her ears was doubling, trebling, and as they all slowed to a snail’s pace, everything reached a fever pitch. Darkness filled Ru’s vision. Her balance wavered. Stars flickered at the edges of her sight.

“Forward,” she managed to say. She kicked feebly at Sky. She had to keep going. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know what was happening to her beyond a deep, desperate need to go toward the crater. Every particle of her body felt the pull, felt instinctively that she needed to hurry toward the Shattered City.

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