Page 18 of Veiled Flames
Mission accomplished, I carefully re-stash my supplies. Moving forward, I shield the flame from more gusts. The shade cast by my hand obscures my path, but the candle stays lit.
The tomb of Armand the Conquer, the largest and most prominent effigy in the crypt, sends a shiver down my spine. The likeness of my ancient ancestor is both gloomy and ferocious, but I see a faint hint of my father in the cut of his jaw.
Armand lived when Othrix created the veil to protect the Light from the Darkness. Our history sings his praises, but on a high library shelf I discovered a historical record from the Kingdom of Nathia. That tome held a very different account of Armand’s conquests, which left a good third of Nathia in our kingdom’s hands, leaving Nathia with largely infertile lands. Thousands of Nathians perished.
I pick up my pace, wanting to get out of the crypts as quickly as possible, but I pause in front of my mother’s small effigy. Her carved likeness is unrecognizable, and I wonder which is closer to the real woman, this statue or the painting in the castle gallery. Neither matches anything stored in my memory. Standing in front of her remains, I silently ask my mother for help.
Asking for the Queen’s help is foolhardy at best. Even if she could hear, even if her specter could act, Mother’s spirit would likely race to alert the guards.
Someday I’ll find an ally, someone to be onmyside. Nurse does care for me, as do my brothers, but all three are decidedly on the same side as my father. And my father is sending me to my death.
I cross through the rest of the crypt without incident, only the rats and mice as company. If there are specters, none pay me notice.
Why expect attention from them?These specters are related to my father.
Leading away from the crypt, the tunnel becomes smaller and smaller, the walls closing in on either side of me. At times I need to bend forward, and it seems much tighter than when I was last here.
The tunnel opens into another channel. I’ve gone farther than I did the last time, and this passage has a small river running down its center. A promising sign, although the water smells foul.
Letting my gut choose, I head the way I believe is closest to north, fighting to ignore my sudden spike of distrust in my senseof direction. Khotor lies to the south, so my chances seem better heading through Achotia toward Verax. I’ve made many turns to get to this point, but I’m traveling the same way as the small river’s current, which seems wise.
While the bulk of the passage seems naturally formed, perhaps by water, the ledge I’m using is built of stone and brick. As I walk along, it becomes narrow in places, forcing me to bend and yield to the curve of the walls. I step carefully, not wanting to fall into the foul-smelling water.
Startled by a rat, I nearly drop my candle but recover as the rodent dives into the water to swim. Lowering my light, I realize the water is teaming with rats, and I become doubly determined not to fall in.
I’ve traveled many furlongs, perhaps half a league, when a cave-like space opens up to my side.
I sense movement in a corner. “Who’s there?”
A rat scurries across the open space, and I choose to believe the rodent was all I saw. A rat is bad enough, but as I shine my candle around, there is clear evidence of human activity in this space, whether or not anyone is here at this moment.
I lack the time to care about who could be using this passageway—or why.
Ahead, I spot a small vessel, barely more than a raft. I’m terrified by the idea of traveling on the foul, rat-infested water, dependent on an unreliable craft. But this ledge is becoming increasingly difficult to traverse. I’ve already had to leap over several gaps.
A torch hangs off a long pole at the front of the raft. Standing on the ledge, I lean out to light the torch with my flame and then stash the extinguished candle into a pouch on my breeches. These pouches are proving very practical, and I wonder why women’s garments don’t have such handy places for storage.
Then, I realize that Nurse’s apron has pouches. As do the maids’. It seems only the clothing of noble women lacks practicalities. Just like the world hobbles us with impractical shoes and tight corsets, our clothing doesn’t allow us to carry anything that would help us survive without the assistance of men.
Bracing myself, I step carefully onto the raft. It tips treacherously back and forth, but once I find my balance, I pick up a long pole I hope I can use to propel the craft.
For the second time tonight, I’m stealing someone’s property—this time from a stranger who might depend on this raft. I have little choice. My scraped fingers are now stiff from the cold, but I manage to untie the rope holding the raft’s back end.
The vessel swings out into the river, and I drop to my knees to keep from falling. Then I creep forward, rising only enough to free the rope holding the front of the raft.
Once freed, the raft starts to drift, luckily in the direction I plan to head. I gather the courage to shift to one knee, so I can use the pole to propel me forward more quickly.
A rat grabs the side of the raft, its sharp claws scrambling for purchase, but I use the pole to push it back into the water, and then stroke more quickly, trying not to think about the squishy bottom that the end of the pole digs into each time I press down. Whatever the bottom is, it’s not the same hard, smooth stone that forms the walls and ceiling of the passage.
The torch proves to be a blessing from Othrix, and soon my eyes adjust to the light. I’ve been traveling for so long, I’m starting to wonder if I should have gone against the current. But then a spot of light appears in the distance.
Setting down the pole, I retrieve a small looking tube from Olifer’s rucksack.
It’s moonlight. Even better, it’s moonlight with a strong hint of pink. The sun will soon rise.
The waterway leading from the crypts joins a larger river. Not far from the junction I extinguish the torch and tie the raft to a tree, hoping whoever owns this craft will find it.
Glancing to the brightening violet sky, I’m grateful that the day will soon dawn, and that I made my escape without facing the nighttime forest and evil creatures that might lurk there. Rats are one thing but facing trolls or demons or vampyres is another. I shake my head. Nurse’s stories were told to scare me. Such creatures of Darkness no longer dwell in the Light, thanks be to Othrix.
