Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Thirty-Seven: Ailill

Ailill

They were on their way again within hours. He’d waited as patiently as he could while the child slept, her exhaustion clear to see on her face. From his sister’s expression, he knew that he had to look the same, or worse.

But he couldn’t sleep.

Restless, he had prowled the resting area, lithe and graceful as the panther his priestess had named him for.

Kuraĝon had said nothing, only watched him anxiously, and he hoped that he would be able to return to her.

Now back on the stallion, he let the song fill him once more, guiding them through the dense trees on an unerring path to the Forgotten City. The place where the stones were red with blood, the Lisnerv’s banks soaked in blood, and where nothing could grow. The cursed city, as some had once called it.

It only made sense that the beastkin had hidden himself there. Alone and hunted, he would have been safe and unknown there, safe to rest and recover.

And wait.

He’d been waiting so long, and the song had been surging through Ailill’s blood for longer than he could remember.

At last, it was time.

The first glimpse of the city had his sister draw in her breath in shock. He didn’t blame her. It had been a long time since he’d seen the city, but nothing had changed.

Just as nothing had changed since its downfall.

The bottom third of every wall was stained red, an image that only grew more distinct as they drew closer. The earth was dry, barren, every step of the horses sending up puffs of dark red dust. Even the earth had been stained by the bloodshed.

Before they got to the gates, only half standing, the stallion stopped. With a burst of energy, now that he knew he was closer than he’d ever been before, Ailill swung off the horse, landing on the ground in a dust puff of his own.

“The horses can go no further,” he said, looking at his sister. “We must walk.”

She was pale, her eyes bright with fear, but she nodded, following his lead. Without a sound, the girl was with them, walking with both her hands twined fearfully in Hunaja's fur.

Without any more sound from him, Ailill led them towards the city, following the song that seemed so loud, it was impossible for his companions not to hear it. Yet, looking back at them briefly, he knew that they couldn’t.

The song was his burden, and his joy.

For he knew who was singing it.

The walk seemed endless, but it was an instant before they were at the gates. Without pausing, he walked through, hearing his sister’s firm footsteps overlaid with the girl’s more uncertain ones on the cobblestones.

Following the song, moving with no deviation, he led them towards the centre, through the deathly quiet ruins, the stones as stained as the tale had told.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the stones, and he knew in his bones that it wouldn’t be the last.

Finally, the narrow street opened up, and he stopped.

It was the centre.

As he’d known, the central courtyard of the city had been the worst affected. There were no buildings standing around it any more, and a gaping hole in the middle told its own brutal story. But that was where he needed to go.

Without hesitation, he made his way to it, until he stopped on the edge.

“I go alone.”

His voice whispered through the deadened streets.

“No. I’m going with you.”

He shook his head. “You can’t, little sister. I don’t know what he will do, if you’ll be in danger. Vakt and Hunaja will keep you both safe up here. Please.”

Again, she refused. “No. If you’re going down there, Ali, I’m coming with you. You’re not leaving me.”

With a sigh, he looked to the girl, who had her mother’s determined look on her face.

Me too.

He sighed again. “Then so be it,” he muttered. “But don’t be afraid of what you see. And stay close. There’s no telling what he will do.”

Not speaking further, he climbed down the ruins and rubble, often turning back to help Aura as she scrambled after them. Kú hesitated, but she flew in after them, following the only people she knew. The beastkins paced the lip of the opening for a few minutes, almost whining, and his sister had to encourage them to follow.

He took little notice. The ancient passageways under the city were open to him. All he had to do was remember where he was going.

The call was stronger than he’d ever heard it, and he knew now that he wouldn’t be able to stop, even if he wanted to.

He moved through the maze of tunnels confidently, his burned fingers keeping touch with the walls, keeping in contact with the earth.

“Ali, where are we going?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “To the Soul, Kura.”

“But … in here?” She looked about her in awe, and a little bit of fear. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, taking the next left turn. “He had to hide. Here was the safest place we could think of.”

As soon as he’d spoken, he bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say that. Thankfully, she was too busy looking around her.

They didn’t speak again. The call was too loud for him to hear anything, and he didn’t wish to speak in any case. The tunnels seemed endless, continual passageways twisting and turning as they made their slow ways deeper into the heart of the city.

He barely looked at the carvings that began to appear on the walls. He’d seen them many times before, and they hadn’t changed. He hadn’t expected them to. They told the story and history of the elves, and the beastkins, and even the ancient tale of how their land had begun. He knew Aura would be interested in them, and could hear her footsteps slowing as she gazed at them, awed all over again.

They couldn’t afford to slow down now.