Chapter 4
1687 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
I couldn’t help but feel a little glum as we meandered through the streets of the grand capital city.
Ros looped his arm around my waist and drew me close against his side. “Would you rather stay with them?”
I shook off my dark thoughts and smiled up at him. “What do you think?”
He stared ahead and playfully furrowed his brow. “I think you would rather be at a very nice restaurant eating your most favored food with only me for company.”
I snorted. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be happy alone with the platter of shrimp?”
Ros grinned down at me. “So, shrimp is your favored food?”
I shrugged. “A girl has to have her weakness. I hope you’re not partially related to them.”
He flashed me a sly, crooked grin. “We don’t talk about them outside of family discussions.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Any other family I need to know about before we get married? I won’t be ostracized if I hate oysters, will I?”
“You have nothing to worry about so long as Unda approves of our marriage,” he teased.
A thought struck me that made me wince. “That’s almost not funny. We’ve met enough gods to know that there’s probably a lot more out there, and the god of the sea may think I’m too much of a fish out of water to approve of our marriage.”
His smile softened and he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Anyone who knows you would disagree with your statement, and if I need to go against the wishes of Unda himself to marry you then I would.”
“So, I can eat all the shrimp I want?” I teased.
He nodded. “All the shrimp, and more.” He stared ahead of us, and his smile dropped into a frown. “But let’s focus on the trials ahead. We must see who waits for us at the grotto.”
Ros guided me through the complicated ancient city and to the far eastern half of the metropolis. The ruins that dotted the city were more plentiful in this portion, and many of the ancient foundations stuck out of the ground and stood like forgotten sentinels glaring down at us for intruding on their slide into weathered oblivion. The crumbling walls were so high and so close together that I felt like a rat in a maze, trapped within those stone bases where the only noise was the rustling of dead leaves and the faint whisper of wind like ghostly voices.
“What I wouldn’t do for a child crying…” I murmured to myself.
“We’re almost there,” Ros assured me as we rounded a sharp corner.
The narrow stone path on which we walked widened to a little den overgrown with weeds and creeping vines. The tendrils, living and dead alike, climbed the three walls that rose up and surrounded us. The path ended at a high brick wall, and through the vines I could barely make out a round hole. The hole was some four feet in diameter and covered over by web of thick bars. They were attached to a plate that wrapped around the remains of what I realized was a large doorway. Much of the entrance had caved in and become rubble, creating the round hole which had been barred off.
We walked over to the hole and Ros ripped away from of the vines. They fell in tatters at our feet and revealed a black hole.
I leaned in close to the bars and squinted into the darkness. My eyes could only penetrate a few feet into the shadows. “This looks welcoming.”
Ros smiled as he pressed his hands against specific parts of the round plate. “For a young lad bored of royal life, it was the most welcome sight.”
I watched him tap the metal for a while before I lifted an eyebrow. “Do you two need to be alone?”
He grinned. “If it were anyone but you here, yes. I’m lifting the magic seal on the barrier that holds the bars in place.”
My eyes widened a little. “You can do that kind of magic?”
He tapped a few more spots before a soft clinking noise echoed around our little hollow. “I can when the blood of my kin is used to seal the metal, and with my mother telling me the secret pressure points.”
He ushered me back to the far side of the den and we watched the bars rattle. The whole contraption shook like a chilled child, and a moment later the band and bars tipped forward. They crashed to the ground with a loud clatter that made both of us wince.
I cast a side glance at him. “I’m guessing she forgot to tell you how to manage a quiet entrance.”
He shrugged. “She probably figured that wasn’t my style, now follow close behind me.”
A thought struck me that made me frown. “So how was Stela supposed to get in there?”
“That’s a question we’ll have to ask the dear captain,” Ros mused as he drew out a small torch and lit the oil on the end.
I gladly was led into the murky, stank darkness. Even with the bars having allowed air, the atmosphere was stale and moldy. Vines brushed against my cheeks and my feet slipped on the black moss that covered the cobblestone floors.
The torchlight reflected off vines and stone walls, and I caught glimpses of mosaics that had once been fine but were now worn with age and dampness. The stone roof over our heads was smoothed to perfection, and tiny alcoves had been etched at precise intervals. Weeds now choked the little cubby holes, but I caught glimpses of broken statues.
“So, what was this place?” I whispered. Anything higher than a hushed voice felt like a sacrilege.
Ros shook his head. “Nobody’s quite sure, but the castle historians guessed that this used to be a place of pilgrimage. At least, many offerings had been found in that little courtyard outside the entrance.”
I ran into a vine and flailed my arms about to fling it out of my face. “I hope these offerings didn’t include human hearts.”
“Canes and little sailing vessels.”
I sighed. “Oh good. Now we just have to worry about being beaten to death by an oar-wielding god.”
He paused and looked over his shoulder at me. “You’re certain there’s a god here, aren’t you?”
I blinked at him for a moment before I searched my thoughts. My eyebrows crashed down. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Perhaps you can feel the gods when they’re close?” he guessed.
I shrugged. “Maybe I can, but that’d be news to me. I couldn’t really feel Sofia until she wanted me to see know she was around.”
“But that was several months ago, and a god away,” he pointed out as he stared ahead and raised the torch a little higher. The light shone a little farther down the tunnel and revealed a widening of the passage. “Let’s be on our guard and tell me if you feel anything else unusual.”
We proceeded onward and I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m feeling just a little creeped out already…”
We ventured a few yards further and stepped into a new little den. Ros lifted up the torch once more and revealed a circular room with little alcoves like those in the passage. The vines had also invaded these depths and hung from the ceiling like ghostly tendrils. A recess in a far corner of the room held a tiny pool of water, most of which had dried up thanks to the intrusive vines, but some water still flowed into the basin via cracks in the moldy walls.
“Hello?” Ros called out. His echo answered his call, and the eerie reflection of his voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
That’s when a hideous figure loomed out of the shadows of a large alcove straight ahead of us.
A gasp escaped me as I beheld the withered form of some ancient being. The creature was wrapped in a cassock which covered him from his weathered leather shoes to the hood that hid his face. The only flesh revealed to us were his hands. They were so shrunken as to be skeletal, and between the long, thin fingers of one was grasped a long stick, the point of which dragged along the sand. The wrinkled flesh on the back of one hand was marred by a tattoo that showed an oar crossed with a stick.
I couldn’t help but slowly latch on to Ros’ arm and think back to my concern about our safety. “D-do you know him?”
Ros tightened his grip on the torch and steadied himself. “Who are you, sir?”
The man didn’t move but for his stick-wielding hand. The end of the rod scratched across the mess of sand and muck that littered the floor, creating flourishing letters. Ros took a step closer and dropped the torch to reveal the words which he read aloud.
“I am the one at every crossroad and the one at every port.” He pursed his lips and lifted his eyes back to the shriveled figure. “Is your name Dromos?” The hooded figure slowly inclined their head.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Who’s Dromos?”
“Another of my world’s gods,” Ros explained as he nodded down at the man’s marked hand. “Many sailors and merchants have that same tattoo for good luck because he’s the god of travelers.”
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