Page 54 of The Half King
Cerise shook her head in confusion. “But I thought only a worshipper of pure faith can earn the sunset runes. How can a person be unworthy if Shiera entrusted them with a map to the Petros Blade?”
“Because faith is not the only thing that determines a person’s worth,” Nero said in the same lecturing tone that Daerick often used. “The Petros Blade never should have been forged. The only reason it still exists is because it can’t be destroyed. A weapon like that could do terrible damage, even in the hands of the faithful, so it’s been safeguarded by more than just a vanishing hiding place. That’s why it hasn’t seen the sun in a thousand years.”
“Safeguarded by what? Beasts? Magic?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Nero told her. “I’ve never looked for it before. Others have tried to hire me to take them to the Blighted Shrine, but I knew better than to waste my time on them. And now I want to know that I’m not wasting my time on you.”
“So you want my vow that I’m worthy?”
“You won’t know you’re worthy until you’re tested,” he said. “What I want is your vow thatifwe find the blade andifyou’re able to retrieve it, then the blade will never leave your side. You will sheathe it to your body, day and night. You will allow no other to lay hands on it, and you will kill anyone who tries.” Nero towered over her, his lethal gaze boring into hers until Blue growled at him. “Do you promise?”
“I promise,” she said. Even if Nero hadn’t insisted, she would have been vigilant in protecting the blade. “I swear it.”
Nero nodded, seemingly satisfied by her oath. “Then we will return to your friend.”
He extended a hand to her, she took it, and with a violent lurch and a dip of her stomach, she was back at the mouth of the cave, squinting against the sunlight.
“Charred bones!” Daerick cried, grabbing Cerise in a hug before she had fully opened her eyes. He muttered a strand of curses and pulled away but kept a grip on her upper arms. “Are you all right?” He fired a glare at Nero. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t hurt me,” Cerise assured him. “He only wanted a word in private.”
Daerick cast her a skeptical look. “Well, it must have been an incredibly loaded word, because you weren’t gone long enough to exchange a full sentence.”
Cerise glanced at Nero, recalling what he had said about the passage of time in the cavern. The minutes they had spent “Below” had passed like mere seconds for Daerick. Nero grinned at her as if to sayI told you so.
“Now we can begin,” Nero told them. “I know a safe place to make camp in the next ridge. Your horses will slow us down, but we should be able to reach it before nightfall.”
13
And so began their quest for the Petros Blade.
Cerise learned that in its entirety, the mountain range extended so far that it continued beyond the horizon. But their journey would take them to the nearby blighted peak, the site of the Great Betrayal. That was where the Blighted Shrine had been built and where Cerise would make her offering of darkness and light to the goddess in exchange for the sunset runes. What she intended to offer to satisfy the goddess’s vengeful side remained to be seen.
She kept glancing at the dark peak, expecting it to grow closer as the hours passed, but it remained as distant as ever. Even with her gelding, Ash, doing all of the work, she found the trip up the narrow, winding path comparable to running headlong into a flaming hearth. She didn’t know how Nero could bear it on foot, setting the pace ahead of the horses without breaking a sweat.
“The horses could use some water,” she called to Nero. “Don’t you think?”
“They can always use water, but they don’t need it,” he replied over his shoulder. “They’re not like your beasts in Solon.”
Daerick spoke from behind her. “Most of the species indigenous to Mortara are accustomed to the heat. They can regulate their temperature, and they have special kidneys that recycle water through the bloodstream several times before it’s excreted. That’s why your horse’s urine smells so pungent.”
Cerise sniffed the air. Their trail would certainly be easy to follow.
“Most mountain creatures stay in their dens during the day,” Nero added. “And only come out at night. That’s why I want to reach camp before we stop.”
“What’s so special about your camp?” Daerick asked.
“You’ll see.”
And they did, hours later when the sun hung dangerously low on the horizon. Cerise could barely feel her lower half by that point. Nero led them off the trail to a small plateau, walled in on three sides by great slabs of sienna-colored stone. The area had been cleared of brambles, weeds, and desert saplings. There were scorch marks on the ground where someone, probably Nero, had cooked meals and a packed dirt area backing up to the far wall where he had presumably slept. The space was wide enough to contain all of them, including the horses, but aside from the flat terrain, she didn’t see what made the spot particularly special.
Until Nero strode to the front left wall and reached high above his head, resting his hand on the stone. The air thickened with the tang of metal. A crack appeared in the slab, and a trickle of pure, clean water flowed out.
Cerise had tasted magic.Hismagic.
There was no denying it anymore.
Thunderstruck, she dismounted Ash, barely noticing the ache in her legs. She was too busy processing what she had witnessed. Ash ambled to the stone and lapped up the water. Blue pawed at the sling, and she set him down to quench his thirst.
