Shadowmire
I stood outside the gates of the Temple. I folded my hands tightly, trying to stop my fingers from shaking. Doya was still unconscious inside and I couldn't make myself look back. Every part of me wanted to stay, to wait until he woke, but the pull of duty was too urgent to ignore. Kumbuye was beside me, he had prepared to come on the journey with me. I took a deep breath, and forced myself forward, leaving the Temple and Doya behind. The Temple wouldn't be safe if I stayed any longer.
I mounted Bali. Kumbuye swung onto his horse and we rode away. The compass on my hand glowed a faint blue, barely visible under the bright sun, marking the path to the Cranium. Though the road was long, there was no turning back.
We took turns keeping watch during the night, and continued the journey by day, stopping only briefly to eat what little we carried, then riding on again. Days blurred into nights, nights into days. We rode, rested, ate, and rode again. Weeks passed, and were still on the road.
Since learning the true origin of the Cranium, I had tried over and over to make sense of it, but questions circled back to the same absence — why Anthos, the original creator of the Labyrinth, was so rarely mentioned. Some answers had been given, but each only raised more questions.
I couldn't stop wondering why the Ascend hid so much from the rest of the Bound. Even Doya knew nothing of these truths. It was as if Anthos had been quietly erased from the Labyrinth's history. No explanation was given for his disappearance from memory.
The more I thought about it, the more it troubled me. Perhaps the Labyrinth held far more darkness than I ever imagined.
At last, we reached the seaport. The compass still glowed faintly on my hand, pointing north — the very direction we needed to go.
We had collected some coin before leaving the Temple, enough to secure safe passage through the seas and sustain us on the way.
I walked straight to the Shipmaster, wind tugging at my cloak and pulling my hair across my face. I could hear the slap of water against the dock. "Will you grant us safe passage to the north?" I said as I approached the Shipmaster.
The man turned around and looked me over, then he glanced at Kumbuye. "The boat's full," he said. "Leaves at dawn."
"We have money," I said, hoping that would change his mind. Shipmasters were known to be really greedy. "Enough for both of us and our horses."
He laughed. "Money, you say, always the answer, isn't it?" His eyes squinted.
"We're willing to pay well," I pushed. "Enough that it will be worth your trouble."
The man leaned closer. "You think coin bends me?" He chuckled. "I've carried kings aboard and no gold ever bought me peace." He looked behind me and Kumbuye to our horses. "You'll pay twice to cover the risk of those beasts."
I swallowed, forcing the words out. "Name your price."
His grin widened. He had dirty yellow teeth, and a very horrible breath.
"Ah, courage or foolishness. Never sure which. Eight silver each for the beasts, and five silver a head for you lot."
"That's quite pricey," I muttered.
"I thought you were willing to pay," he said.
"Fine," I said quietly. "Deal."
His grin widened more. "Ah... the price just went up, double. Upfront. And I like that necklace you wear."
My fingers flew to the emerald necklace resting against my chest. My mother had given it to me. It was the last piece of her I had left, a tether to a life I had lost. It reminded me of her. Of my father. Of Káremuul.
"I can give you double," I said, "but not the necklace."
"Fine. I'll take you aboard," he said, leaning in. "Double it is then. Sixteen silver a horse. Ten silver a head."
Ugh, his breath was so stinky. Kumbuye had been quiet while I negotiated our transport.
"Remember," the Shipmaster added as we turned away, "we leave at dawn."
We moved off to find shelter, where we would rest the night before going aboard by dawn.
"I don't trust him," Kumbuye muttered.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"He's crooked," he said. "The kind who would sell you out without a second thought if the price was right." He paused, then added, "If he has any idea who you are, he might betray us."
"Well," I said, wrapping my arm into his, "we don't have much of a choice."
"I know," he replied. "That's what troubles me."
My mind drifted to Giselle. Since the day I caught her rifling through my things in the Sanctum, she had vanished. Like she always did.
Nearly a year had passed since I came to the Labyrinth, and the purpose that brought me here still lay unfinished. Jephas was still alive. Still breathing. My parents' faces flashed in my mind. I would get my revenge.
By the time we reached the inn, we approached the innkeeper, a middle-aged woman tending a pot of brew that hissed over the fire. The smell of yeast and something sour filled the air.
"We need a room for the night," I said.
"Five copper for the floor. One silver for a bed," she replied without looking over our direction.
"Two silver. Two beds," I said, placing the coins on the counter. The metal clinked against the worn wood.
She paused. Then she looked up at me properly. A wide smile spread across her face as she swept the coins away.
"Alright then," she said. "I'll show you."
She untied her apron and tossed it over the counter. "Oy," she called out, turning her head, "serve those drinks at the table to the left." She told a young man hovering nearby, clearly her apprentice.
She motioned for us to follow and led us up a narrow creaky staircase that led to the room.
The room she opened was really small, lit by a single sputtering candle. The walls were rough stone. The floorboards were uneven, and the beds were nothing more than thin mattresses laid over wooden frames. The smell of damp wood and old cloth clung to the atmosphere and there was this very tiny window that barely let in any air because the space was so stuffy and hot.
It wasn't comfortable in any way, but it was shelter and we would only stay one night.
"If you want a drink," she said casually, already turning away, "there's ale downstairs. Three copper a cup."
Then she was gone, leaving the door to shut with a dull thud.
I stood there for a moment, taking it all in.
Just one night.
I sighed and crossed the room, lowering myself onto one of the beds. I pulled my satchel and lay it on the bed too, while I let myself fall flat on my back.
Only then did I realise how hungry I was. My stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
"Let's get something to eat," Kumbuye said.
I glanced at him. "Stay out of my mind."
He chuckled. "I wasn't in your mind. I heard your stomach."
"Oh." A small laugh slipped out of me.
"I already told you," he said, more serious now, "I would never do that to you. You just have to trust me."
"Do what?" I asked.
"Listen in on your thoughts."
He had promised me months ago that he would never go through my thoughts. And I believed him. I did. Yet sometimes, I wouldn't deny that I had the feeling that my thoughts were exposed. It wasn't fear exactly. Just doubt. Like a "what if."
He set down his bag and weapon. I slipped the compass and the key into my bag, making sure they were well hidden, then, we left the room and headed back down to the tavern.
The sound of voices and clinking cups grew louder with each step. We walked to a table, sitting onto the hard wooden benches, our eyes sweeping over the lively tavern. The room was loud with chatter, the scrape of chairs, and the strum of a bard's lute as coins clinked into the small bowl before him.
I waved at the innkeeper, who hurried toward us, her skirts brushing the floor. "Two bowls of pottage, two hunks of rye bread, and two mugs of ale," I ordered as my fingers twitched near the pouch at my side.
She gave a nod, glancing toward Kumbuye, before vanishing behind the counter. The scent of roasted meat and spiced stew curled my stomach.
Soon, the food arrived. The pottage was steaming hot, the bread was warm and crusty, and the ale foamed golden to the rim of the wooden cup.
"So," I said, breaking the silence between us, "you never really told me why you do this with me."
He didn't look at me at first, he picked up his cup of ale and drank from it. Then, finally, his gaze met mine as he gulped. "Do what?"
"Coming with me," I lowered my voice, "in search of the Cranium."
He shrugged, casual as ever. "I didn't have much to do in Krythmoor. Thought I'd find a little action... a little adventure."
I arched an eyebrow, amused. "You're risking your life for that?"
He smirked. "Well... spending time with you makes it worth it too."
The moment he said that, my heart stuttered. I was a bit flustered and I knew that he noticed it.
"I miss Doya," I whispered, changing the topic.
Kumbuye's expression changed, though he masked it to hide how he felt about my statement.
We ate in silence until we finished our meal. After relaxing for a bit, I moved toward the bard and dropped a copper into the bowl before him. Kumbuye followed behind me as we made our way back to the room.
I slid into the bed, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I truly had missed Doya and it hurt. I pictured him in the infirmary. Had I done the right thing leaving him behind? I had abandoned him, and I wished I could see him again. I remembered the way his gaze always met mine, those striking blue irises. I hugged myself, imagining the brush of his hand against mine, his touch...
I woke to the pale light slipping through the tiny window. I didn't even remember falling asleep and it was already dawn.
Kumbuye's bed was empty. I looked around then noticed his spear and bag had been arranged by the corner of the room.
I dressed quickly, tied my hair back, and checked my bag to make sure the compass and key were safe.
The moment I finished, Kumbuye stepped into the room, standing by the door.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, he walked to the corner and carried his bag and spear, then we went down the stairs. Outside, our horses waited, already saddled.
I swung onto Bali's back. Kumbuye followed, mounting his own horse.
We moved through the narrow docks. Shipmasters shouted orders, dragging barrels and securing cargo.
"It's about time," the Shipmaster we had met yesterday said, stepping aside to let us onto the gangplank.
I let out a long breath, hugging my cloak closer against the cold as the ship left the harbor.
I rested my hands on the rail, staring at the waves. Kumbuye came up beside me, and together we watched the sea.
The shoreline had disappeared from our view when a shape tore from the fog ahead, rising from the waves. It looked like dark liquid.
Kumbuye stiffened beside me. "No..." His eyes were wide in shock. "That's a Shadowmire..."
Screams rose from the travellers as the "thing" advanced toward us.
I had never seen this before. The air around it carried the stench of salt and decay. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"What is a Shadowmire?"