THE LANDS FORSAKEN | THE FORSAKEN LAND OF GENèSE | LOST KINGDOM | TOWER

  600

  Despite the special aspect of his sight, Solvanel could not remember there having been a single time in his life when he was required to lead the way.

  Growing up in the village, every harrowing event occurred within the confines of a wooden fence. When the villagers fled, it was from one familiar building to another, through paths they were able to navigate blindfolded. Should a tragedy have fallen upon their heads that they had to leave the village entirely, there was an unspoken understanding that there was no other place.

  The sole path forward was always a bitter fight.

  And to that, he was well accustomed.

  Under circumstances where sight was restricted due to natural darkness, his cursed vision was perfect against a shadespawn trying to take advantage of it.

  But with those factors dissected from the current circumstance, it was the blind leading the blind in a literal sense.

  “What are you doing with that stick?”

  Solvanel’s arm was around Saint’s neck as he swept the crook from side to side. “My grandfather once spoke about men using sticks to find water. I am doing the same, but for salvation.”

  “You mean dowsing?”

  “Dowsing,” echoed Solvanel. “Are you one of such men?”

  The other two stifled laughter in the darkness behind them. The kid sounded ridiculous, innocence and hope clinging to his tone despite it all.

  Saint almost wished he could say yes, just to appease him. “No.”

  “Good. Good…” Solvanel nodded, speaking low. "He also said these men are crackpot swindlers.”

  He chuckled darkly. “That’s fine and all, but this doesn’t look like the kind of place to look for salvation.”

  Solvanel led them into a narrow hallway connected to the main room.

  Faint buzzing could be heard at a close distance behind the walls.

  The locusts were circling the building, either waiting for them to come out or trying to find a way in.

  One of the other two laughed bitterly. “If you told me there was a place like this in the Forsaken Land, I’d stop listening when you mentioned the Forsaken Land.”

  “No shit,” continued Saint. “Imagine what we could have done back then if we had half the resources these people wasted building this tower alone.”

  Moonlight cascaded through cracks in the ceiling and glinted off of precious metal scones, unlit. It illuminated the passageway enough for them to navigate around the rubble with some difficulty.

  A dull ray fell upon his skin. Solvanel’s heart missed its mark, faltering in minor shock. Was the moon out while they were running?

  “Come on, Saint. We held up in the valley for three whole years because of you and made it out with our hides. It’s not the metal that makes the man. If this city had half a leader like you, I bet they’d still be here to make you king. Mother and father would—””

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. The more decadent these people were, the more concerned we should be about why they’re no longer here. People don’t stack bricks to the sky unless they’ve never seen it come crashing down.”

  The moonlight was once again obstructed as they passed into a less damaged section of the passage. Solvanel signaled for them to stop.

  Feeling the urgency in his gesture, Saint grabbed his comrades by the wrists and pulled them back—echoed screams as calloused fingers wrapped around their melted flesh.

  Over their grief, he chastised him for his error. “What’s the matter with you, kid? Don’t signal in the dark!”

  Solvanel removed his arm. “I am not a child,” he said, limping ahead. “Neither you, much older than I. However, I do apologize for signaling in the dark. I am not quite used to having the best vision in the group...”

  Saint was prepared to forgive him, sweep it all under the rug as the boy was clearly nothing like himself, but then, a whispered word echoed off the dry walls. “…bitch.”

  “What?!”

  “Ahem. My apologies if you misheard. I am simply saying that next time, I will say it loud and clear… shit-head.”

  “You little shit!”

  Saint lunged at the tight-faced youth. Dixon grabbed him by the arms with only a hair’s breadth separating his fist and Solvanel’s face. “Calm down! What the hell’s gotten into you?!”

  “Argh! Like you don’t know. Breaking those chains was child’s play. But when this guy wasn’t drawing attention to us in the daytime, he was using that nasty finger to keep us all frozen all night. It’s like he wanted to keep us prisoner, so that he could free us himself!”

  “Pardon… the fuck?” Solvanel scoffed, the sound brittle with disdain. “I kept you paralyzed to prevent the tragedies of such short-sightedness. Whether you fled under the sun or under the moon matters little. Jonah would have—”

  “Yes!” Saint exploded, jabbing a finger at him. “Yes, he would’ve caught up to us! But you didn’t know that at the time, did you? I, however—” he thumped his chest “I know that and I know there was someone in the group who remembered the way out. And another one who knew how to forage. And another one—me—who knew how to scrub a trail. Clean enough that your people wouldn’t even know which direction to start the chase. But you didn’t know that, did you?”

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  Again, Solvanel scoffed, not knowing whether his disdain owed to this tantrum or the very fact of disbelief. “How was I supposed to?”

  “Hmm, you know what? That’s actually a great question.” Saint didn’t even look at Solvanel. He called over his shoulder, “Chris, what’s that thing people do when they don’t know something?”

  Chris frowned. “Uh… panic?”

  “Not that one. The other thing.”

  “Oh. Ask Saint.”

  “Yes! Thank you. We ask. See—hear? He turned back to Solvanel. “Ask, not assume. You don’t assume. You never make assumptions when you’re dealing with people’s lives!”

  Solvanel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Then did you ask whether I would have been compliant with your plans? You did not come with these schemes a-tongue, questioning what I may contribute to the effort. Am I to assume that you asked yourself and answered in my stead?”

  “Oh, please. As if I needed to. What can a kid like you contribute to anything?”

  “Everything,” he answered. “For I am a man, not a child. There was never such a thing as a child in Dunreach Village.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Saint muttered, “we noticed.”

  “Yes. That’s why we survived… f…” This one, Solvanel managed to restrain.

  “That’s why you never grew up,” corrected Saint. Suddenly, he jerked forward. His friend’s flame flipped over his right shoulder, but he pulled up before Dixon met stone, allowing him enough time to right himself on both feet.

  “We might be the same age, but I can’t stand a kid who doesn’t pipe down when they’re wrong. All the people I mentioned, with those skills, were slaughtered by the locusts because of your assumptions. So just be happy my friends were here to save you. ‘Cause right now, I’d take real pleasure in breaking your jaw.”

  He exhaled sharply through his nose, the heat still lingering in his voice.

  “What was the signal for, anyway?”

  “The crook has stopped pulling, but there is a hole five steps ahead.” He paused, staring into the darkness.“I believe it wants me to descend.”

  Saint stepped ahead without a word, dropping to one knee beside the void. His fingers swept along the stone, probing the edge.

  “Steps, I think, ” he said. “Leading down.”

  He looked up at Solvanel. “We’d better hope what chased the original people out isn’t still here. ‘Cause if you ask me, they probably took all the salvation with them.”

  “No such thing as sure in this world,” Solvanel stated, looking in.

  Well, one thing was for certain.

  There was a fire burning in the depths. A glow undulating at the bottom of the abyss. For the first time since entering the Forsaken Land, this light was owed neither to human nor insect breath. For it was golden, the color of sunset on a quiet autumn evening.

  “You are the one who suggested following me,” he said, feeling the tug of the crook grow impatient.“This is to be my destiny, whether it kills me or not.”

  Like the men of steel, he was prepared for an endless march ahead. And with that, Solvanel fell down the stairs and rolled all the way to the bottom.

  Saint cringed while feeling some form of admiration. Credit where it was due, the kid could make a beating look easy. He didn’t scream at all on the way down.

  Saint crouched beside the hole, running his fingers along the stone lip again. The air drifting upward was cooler, laced with dust and silence.

  “You two ready?” he said, rising.

  “No,” came a voice behind him. Dixon placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s better if you stay up here.”

  Saint narrowed his brow. “You think I’m afraid of what’s down there?”

  “No,” another cut in, shaking his head. “But you’ve been out of it ever since we left the valley. We’ll go down there with the kid, look for some clothes to cover our backs, medicine for the wounds, and come back up right as rain. But in the meantime, we need someone up here who isn’t… him.”

  An especially heavy snore shook the building.

  Saint let out a dry breath. “As if I can take that meathead on my own.”

  “We know,” Dixon said. “But if anything happens, you’ll be the only one dumb enough to try.”

  Saint hesitated, then nodded grimly.

  From his waistband, he pulled out the needle—still cold from its lack of use.

  “Give this to the kid when you get down there,” he said, holding it out. "Tell him that if he wants to move up in this world, then he shouldn’t be afraid to use it.”

  Chris received and tucked it away.

  Saint stepped back from the edge, fists clenched. “Go. And make sure you come back.”

  His comrades nodded before descending.