Page 95 of The Half King
Kian studied Nero through narrowed eyes. “Maybe the blade knows something about you that the rest of us don’t.”
Nero tensed as if to take a backward step, but he seemed to think better of it. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Then you should have no reason to worry,” Kian told him.
Cerise rested a hand on Kian’s shoulder to calm him. “Let’s remember that Nero risked his life to guide us here.”
“He certainly did,” Kian said. “At the cost of two satchels of coin from my private treasury.” He jutted his chin at Nero. “Now it’s time to earn your pay. Go with her, but you enter first. And make sure nothing happens to her while you’re down there. If you come out and she doesn’t, I’ll leave you on this mountain in pieces too small for the insects to notice.”
The color drained from Nero’s face, but he didn’t argue.
Cerise strode ahead of Nero to the watery edge of the pool, where she knelt and poked a testing fingertip through the surface. She felt nothing, not even a hint of moisture. She tried again, this time scooping a hand through the liquid, but it was no more tangible than air. She swung her legs around and tapped the top step with her sandal to make sure the staircase was solid. When her foot met the resistance of stone, she stood up.
“He goes first,” Kian reminded her.
Nero brushed past her and descended the steps until his head was submerged beneath the water—or, rather, the illusion of it, because no part of him was wet.
Cerise told Blue to stay, and then she glanced once more at Kian. Their gazes caught and held, an entire conversation passing between them. His eyes urged her to be safe and come back to him. She nodded a silent promise to do her best, and then she followed Nero into the pool.
25
Once Cerise was fully below the surface, she glanced up and saw her own reflection. The group was as invisible to her as the stairway had been to them. Below her, Nero waited on the bottom step, beyond which she could see only blackness.
The Petros Blade had vanished. Everything had vanished.
“Come,” Nero called.
As she continued downward, the smell of sulfur gave way to something worse—an odor so rank it triggered her gag reflex. She pulled her collar over her nose. “What is that smell?”
Nero faced away, unfazed. “If I had to guess, probably the ones who came before us.”
“The ones who came for the blade? And didn’t…”survive?
Nero must have heard the fear in her voice, because he thrust out his hand to her. She jogged down the steps and took it. His grasp was loose but steady, a message of support despite having been forced to go into the pool with her.
Together, they stepped into the darkness.
Once their feet met the floor, their surroundings changed. They were no longer inside an acid pool, but instead within the dimly lit walls of an ancient temple. The staircase had changed as well, now constructed from the same dusty clay brick as the floor. There were no structures visible in the open room, at least not in the spaces illuminated by the half dozen flickering wall sconces. What existed in the shadowy corners was anyone’s guess. The only other source of light came from the Petros Blade itself, which floated above a great stone dais that was as long and wide as a grown man. There were no visible barriers protecting the blade, but Cerise knew better than to assume she could simply snatch it out of the air.
A voice bellowed, “Prove yourself bold.”
Bold?Maybe she should grab the blade after all.
She barely had time to consider the idea before a scraping sound drew her attention to the shadowy rear corner of the room, where a tall, slender man dressed in stained rags limped toward her.
Not a man, she realized as he limped into the torchlight.A half-decayed corpse.
She froze, the horror of him locking her in place. She had never seen anything so grotesque. Tufts of black hair pushed up from his scalp in greasy patches. His head, tipped sideways at a curious angle, seemed to have no face. His eyes and lips were gone, his skin decaying like a curtain of putrid lace. Only half of his nose remained, which twitched as he sniffed the air to follow her scent. She planted her feet in a defensive stance and practiced the drill Nero had taught her, summoning her energy and casting it in front of her as a shield. But no sooner had the static wall formed than it dissolved. The magic wouldn’t hold, just like Daerick had warned her.
There was nothing to protect them.
She backed away, bumping into Nero. They fled all the way to the dais.
And then a second corpse arose from behind the altar.
This man had both of his eyes, though no light shone from within them. He, too, inclined his head at them; in doing so, he widened the gap where his throat had long ago been slit.
Icy terror gripped Cerise, and she stumbled back a step. The stench was overwhelming. She tried to cover her nose, but something heavy appeared in her palm, dragging it down. She glanced at her hand to find it holding the Petros Blade. In disbelief, she looked above the dais where the blade had just been floating. Nothing was there. It seemed she had the real thing in her possession. She and Nero locked eyes and instantly agreed on their next move.
