Page 6 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Harsh sounds of cracking stone and shifting earth started behind her and Amelia twisted to see the standing columns and archways of the outer ruins trying to remain upright as dust was dislodged, trickling to the shifting sands.
The arcane lamps began to flicker violently, and the ground rocked, lurching Amelia to the side. Caught off guard, she fell to her hands and knees with a gasp, panic spiking in her blood. She clenched her eyes shut as the tremors intensified, praying for it to be over.
The noise reverberated in her ears.
Their horses whinnied and pawed at the ground.
In her next shaky breath, the earth stabilised. The wind returned, blowing her loose, dark hair around her shoulders.
Amelia, breathing heavily, sat back on her haunches and raised her head. Around her, the others were getting shakily back to their feet. When she looked over to Silas’ tent, she found he wasn’t where he’d been earlier. He stood halfway across thecampsite, closer to the fire now. Silas’ eyes had been on her when she looked up but darted away as soon as they had made contact.
She pushed herself to her feet and slowly began to brush the sand from her clothes and hands, heart still pounding in her chest.
“Hm,” Halpert hummed, and Amelia glanced over to him as he straightened his jacket and brushed sand absently from thefront. “Midnight, it seems, is not to be underestimated.”
TWO
Amelia woke, disoriented from the unfamiliar surroundings and the stilted sleep she had endured. Fresh dawn light illuminated the canvas of her tent as she blinked herself awake.
It was a relief, to sit up on her bedroll and spy the thin sliver of early morning sun peeking through the tied flaps of her tent. The warmth of morning light meant safety, and it settled over her like a promise.
Washing with chilled water and dressing in her linen field clothes, Amelia stepped out into the cool, dry air of the Rift. The quiet was eerie, made more so by the sight of Silas seated cross-legged beside the still-burning fire, casually eating from a bowl.His eyes lifted momentarily to track over her before turning his attention back to his breakfast.
“That’s two up,” came a deep voice from near her.
Amelia turned her head to find Frank, exhaustion evident in the droop of his shoulders. He gestured to Hank, and they nodded to each other before heading for their tents. She assumed they would sleep the day away, preparing for the night to come.
She thanked them before moving over to the small kitchen setup to prepare breakfast. The silence around her was uncomfortable, though she didn’t expect Silas to fill it, sure that he was still irate with her over the indiscretion.
She moved to take her meal back to her tent, intent to eat in solitude, but an unexpected voice stopped her.
“How did the translation go?” Silas asked.
Amelia turned as he placed his bowl aside and levelled her with his stare. It was a normal look, one with a curious yet condescending tilt of his head, the blue of his twinkling eyes held his usual measure of mirth. It was a welcome return to their status quo.
She changed track and wandered closer to the warmth of the fire. “I made some headway.”
He reached behind him and produced a notebook. “Shall we compare?”
Amelia paused, an excuse already on the tip of her tongue. But the threat of losing face in front of Silas was not something she was willing to do.
“My notes are in the tent,” she said with an air of confidence, concealing what she knew lay there. Amelia had been up for hours working on those translations and had barely managed two of the glyphs after pouring over the tome she had borrowed.
“What do you have so far?”
His look was a little too knowing, his lips already forming a small smirk, but he just lowered his head to look at his own notes. “The first one I translated in the field. Twin, or double. The next few were trickier due to inconsistencies, but I theorise that the rest of the top line is connection, change and source.”
Silas looked up at her expectantly.
Amelia chewed her bite of granola and nodded, irked that he had translated more than her. The surge of competition was familiar.
“I wonder if it’s referencing the source of power they might have had access too, since the Monoliths weren’t around in their time.”
Silas’ pencil tapped off the open page of his notebook as he considered. “It could be. I half-translated the first glyph on the next line and I think it might be temple. Could be pointing us to that location. That’s where I’ll head soon.”
Amelia frowned at him. “Whereweare going to head soon.”
Silas closed his book and raised a brow at her. “Are you sure you’re up for it? It could be a dangerous trek, not to mention you obviously didn’t manage to translate anything. Hard to be helpful with an empty notebook.” His smile grew with every word he spoke.
