Page 88 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Casmere. Renick’s family.

“Kilian,” Nia called, jogging the terrace distance to me. “Are you here for Snow? She just left.”

“I saw her leave. I’ve called for a meeting later on. I’ll wait for her to return.”

“She could be gone for a while. Fogling attacks are doubling by the day.” Her face lit with excitement. “I could show you the city.”

“I’d like that.”

Taren was fascinating by foot. Houses were made of a dense grey rock, surely to withstand lightning, heavy rain, wind corrosion and constant storms. Not much was made of metal or glass—doors, windows, handles, carriages were all made of wood. The black roofed houses laid in such a way up the mountain face that it resembled stair steps, the corridors between buildings were wide and luscious with life of all sorts.

“There are a lot of bakeries,” I noted, counting past several colourfully painted buildings lined with people of all ages.

“Olympians have a sweet tooth. Most of our traditional foods are desserts. People from all over come to Taren for this particular street. And the fact that Snow chooses to invest her own riches into these businesses does not help.” She pointed to a small shop just as we turned around the corner of the city. “The owner was in Snow’s team when she was training. The girl’s family was all killed during a Fogling attack and she became the breadwinner for her two younger sisters. Snow opened a shop for her and hired a cook to teach her to bake. She gives Snow sweets every time she visits the city.” She pointed to another bakery where a bald man was laughing along with his customers. “Ewan, the owner, lost his wife with the Skye warriors in the Myrdur attack. He used to sleep in the streets and was poor piss drunk most of the hours of day. His sweet potato pies are Snow’s favourite.”

She dragged me to the city square that was being set up with white flags bearing the eagle insignia and garlands of white anemones being hung all over. “The monthly rituals are in two days,” Nia explained. “People from all over gather to celebrate at the temple under the mountain where river Taren pools. It’s the first place Nubil held a gathering with Olympians. People gather and celebrate their blessings for two nights each month. It’s also the day younglings are initiated and given permission to make the climb to Valda Acme by Snow. You should come. People would lose their minds if you came.”

I chuckled. “Then I probably shouldn’t.”

We made a stop to an herbal shop where Nia collected and sniffed all sorts of plants. And then to a small hospital located near the barracks where she made note of medicines missing and that needed to be brought from overseas.

We slid further in the city, past the grand library, the temple towers, grandiose rock sculptures from the time of ancient Olympia, through busy streets and quiet corners.

We’d reached the edge of the rock where Taren laid, a balcony overlooking the northeast part of the obsidian castle that stood grand between the crown of mountains when an icy touch of something more than wind brushed the back of my neck.

I turned around, studying my surroundings. Death mixed with something else. Something sinister. Like a stream of death leaking into the flow of spiritual. Had the beast affected my magic this severely?

Between two large boulders of rock, I spotted a small dark passage that entered the mountain. Angh sragoch. Valley of death was carved on the stone.

“What is through there?” I asked Nia.

Her attention jerked from the view ahead to where mine had landed and she made a small, startled sound. “I…we aren’t going there.”

“It wasn’t what I asked.”

“Kilian, trust me.”

Her shadows were turbulent. “Somehow I don’t.” Passing through the busy streets, I made my way to the tunnel and through. Blue brightness assaulted my eyes when I reached the other side, and I blinked the strange cold air away. My face fell at the narrow valley stretching ahead for long miles. What on the heavens?

Nia latched on my arm, attempting to pull me away. “Kilian, please.”

Pushing her off, I walked between the row of half frozen and half alive bodies of people tied and chained to the obsidian walls of the valley. Somewhere beyond life and above death, men and women, old and young lined the space for what looked like miles.

“Who are these people?”

Nia buried her face in her hands for a moment before answering me. “Criminals. Those that got Snow’s mercy.” She swallowed uncomfortably and reached to touch the rock wall of the valley. The black stone glittered white at her touch. “Taren valley is where Nubil buried his lover, a healing guardian called Meira. They say she gave her own life to heal a human woman and her new-born that the father had beaten and left for dead in this very valley. The immortal became eternal here. Her power lives through the walls, soil and air of this valley. Olympians would come here to heal and pray—they still do.”

“I’ve always had a more creative mind than most,” Snow’s cold voice boomed through the glen and shivers of fright spiked through all the imprisoned. Leaning by one of the walls, she had crossed her arms across the chest and stared boredly ahead.

“I shouldn’t have brought him here,” Nia said, stepping forward.

“Nonsense,” her friend echoed boredly. “This is the most touristy place in Taren.” Pushing from where she stood, she reached close to me. Once she stepped in light, I could see the thick reddish black liquid drenching her grey leathers and the empty stare veiled in purple shadows of restlessness. “A tour, darling husband? I keep Adriatians further down. On pikes. They always get the best of my services.”

Nia stood between the two of us. “There is a meeting in Adriata.”

She yawned and cracked her neck, looking over at me. “Ready when you are.”

“You are covered in Fogling blood,” Nia remarked, staring at the almost black-grey leathers Snow wore.