The Heart & The Heir

Chapter 8

"Why are we here, Azkin?" Rhycilla asked, pulling on Azkin's sleeve.

"I can't explain it." He tore his gaze from the valley to meet hers. "It's like it called to me."

"What did?" Günther asked, scanning the hillside.

"I don't know. It's more of a feeling."

"Forgive me if I don't trust your indigestion," Günther hissed.

"Not that kind of feeling. You'll have to trust me." Azkin slipped from Rhycilla's grasp, taking the first steps down the slope into the valley. "Come on, trust me." Azkin glanced over his shoulder at the others before jaunting down the slope.

With a shrug, Rhycilla moved to follow. Günther's arm shot out, blocking her path. "I don't like this," he breathed.

"There's no one here but us, Günther, you can relax."

"Stop and listen," he spat. Rhycilla rolled her eyes but humoured her friend nonetheless.

"I hear nothing," she said finally.

"That's my point. Not the hum of insects, the rustle of rodents, the songs of the birds. Not even the wind dares to make its presence known. That's not natural."

"So what? We let him go alone?"

"No. Be wary and keep this on you." Günther pulled the dagger from his belt, pressing it into her palm. "Hide it in your skirts."

"Are you two coming?" Azkin shouted back at them. Günther cringed as Azkin's voice echoed down the valley.

The silence embracing them amplified the sound of each step they made. Even Azkin's usually muted step was thunderous. Their six feet coalesced in a cacophony, second only to a herd of stampeding oxen. By the time they reached the steps of the stone temple, their teeth were on edge and their tempers thin.

Rhycilla collapsed against the steps, relieved to be out of the tall grass. Günther took the step up from hers, placing his back to a stone column, while Azkin stared into the dark that loomed beyond the doorway.

"Azkin?" she whispered. "What is it?"

"It's in there," he answered, his eyes locked on the darkness.

"What is?"

"The reason I've been called here. Why the valley's locked in silence and shadow. Why the realms are in a constant state of war." Without another word, Azkin climbed the last few steps and passed through the doorway.

The room was dim, but not black. An old brazier sat forgotten in the middle of the room. The walls were lined with more steps. No, not steps, seating—this was once a meeting hall.

Azkin passed through the room, his feet gliding soundlessly over the windswept stone floor.

The temple had sat disused, neglected for years. Drifts of sand and leaves sat in the corners, out of reach of the wind. The footfalls of his companions crunched in the sand, echoing off the stone walls. The noise raked Azkin's ears, sending a shiver down his spine. He did his best to shake off the feeling, but dread bloomed in his stomach. Not wanting the others to see his unease, he pressed on before they could catch up.

He passed through another archway, heading deeper into the temple.

Allowing his eyes to adjust to the near darkness, he scanned the room.

"What now?" Günther asked from the threshold. "It's a dead end."

"No. It's not," Azkin whispered, walking past Günther to the left side of the room. Günther watched as one minute Azkin was there and the next he was gone.