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Chapter 25: Ominous Path

Chapter 25: Ominous Path

Rook had protected her before the Brand could force him. She had felt the contract tighten when the men threatened her, but he had already decided what he intended to do. That should have reassured her.

Instead, she remembered how calmly he had driven stakes through their bodies.

Rook had not lost his temper. He had not become careless or wild. Every injury had been chosen with the clinical precision of a man who knew exactly how much suffering a soul could endure without dying.

Mara was beginning to understand that kindness and cruelty were not opposites within him. One merely determined who stood behind the coffin and who ended up pinned beneath it.

She raised the lantern as they passed through the remains of an archway. "If you knew the Eighty-Sixth was infested with people like that, why did we come here?"

"Not all of them are that stupid."

"That isn’t reassuring."

"Most know to keep their hands to themselves when I’m passing through."

"Because of your reputation?"

"Because some of them remember how I earned it."

Mara looked back in the direction of the two mutilated men. "Those two clearly didn’t."

"They were new. Or stupid. Usually the same thing."

"That still doesn’t explain why we had to enter their territory."

"It’s the safest route east."

She examined the ruined buildings surrounding them. Somewhere above, loose stone shifted and rolled across an unseen floor. "This is the safest route?"

"I didn’t say it was safe. I said it was the safest."

"And the people living here simply allow travelers to pass?"

"They demand tolls, steal whatever they can and occasionally murder someone. But most understand that travelers bring supplies, information and more travelers. Killing everyone would be bad for business."

Mara frowned. "Why stay here at all? If the ruins are full of Reapers, why don’t the Bastions remove them?"

"The Eighty-Sixth is the one of the few places that accepts their kind."

"The Last Watch as they called themselves? Sounds like a cult. Or a gang of criminals."

"Most are...Outlaws. Deserters. Reapers who broke Bastion law badly enough that no functioning city will take them." Rook ducked beneath a slab of stone wedged between two buildings. "The moment they set foot inside a Bastion, they’ll be caught and charged. If they’re lucky, they’ll be executed."

Mara followed him beneath the stone. "Lucky?"

"Execution ends quickly."

She glanced behind them again, though the way back had disappeared completely. "You keep coming up with more creative ways to convince me that dying is far better than being here."

"Was I ever wrong?"

"No," she admitted. "That may be the worst part."

Understanding the Reapers did not make Mara sympathize with them, but it made the ruins around her feel different. These people had gathered inside a dead city because the dangers beyond the walls remained preferable to what waited inside the surviving Bastions. The fragmented Beacon ensured they could return if killed nearby, while the scattered lanterns carved a small territory from the darkness.

For them, the Eighty-Sixth was not merely a hideout.

It was the closest thing they had to safety.

"What do they do with the memories they gather?" she asked. "Do they sell them?"

"Sometimes. Memories are currency out here. They trade them for food, weapons, information or whatever else someone is willing to provide." Rook glanced toward one of the darkened windows above them. "For most of them, though, memories are all they have. Something to cling to. Something that helps anchor their bodies and keeps them from coming apart."

"How can someone else’s memories do that?"

"Badly. A soul doesn’t care where the material comes from when it’s trying to rebuild itself. Enough stolen memories can hold a damaged body together, but use too many and you start forgetting which pieces are yours."

Mara’s fingers tightened around the lantern. "And they still collect them?"

"They’re not planning for the next century. They’re planning to survive the next time something eats them."

"How do stolen memories help with that?"

"If an Abomination kills you while you’re carrying memories that aren’t your own, it usually consumes those first. They sit closer to the surface and aren’t anchored as deeply. With luck, the creature leaves enough of your actual memories behind for you to return."

Mara thought about the two Reapers studying her as though she were a purse filled with money. "Ah. Now I understand why they were so adamant. They’re padding...It’s basically a safety net."

"Not a reliable one. A stronger Abomination will eat everything." Rook stepped over a broken lantern lying in the road. Its blue flame had gone out long ago, and the metal surrounding it had been crushed flat. "But these people don’t risk going anywhere a strong one is usually found."

"So they rob fresh souls, remain close to the ruins and rely upon the broken Beacon to restore them whenever someone fights back."

"Now you understand the local economy."

"It sounds pathetic."

"It is."

They continued in silence.

The streets twisted unpredictably through the ruins. Several ended beneath collapsed buildings, forcing Rook to choose another route. Others divided around heaps of rubble or disappeared into deep cracks running through the city. The broken remains of the Soul Beacon rose somewhere ahead, though the leaning structures surrounding it made judging distance impossible.

Mara kept the lantern raised and watched where she placed her feet.

They passed beneath another archway.

A pale blue lantern rested in the center of the street beyond it.

Nothing appeared unusual about it. The iron base stood firmly upon the stone, and the flame within its glass chamber burned steadily. Three more lights waited farther ahead, forming a loose line through the darkness.

Mara took two steps past the first lantern.

Then stopped.

The chain tightened and brought Rook to a halt beside her.

"What?"

"That lantern was moved."

Rook looked at the seemingly innocent light, then at Mara. "How do you know?"

She pointed toward the broken archway behind it. Dust covered the entire street in a thick grey layer. Their boots had left clear tracks through it, yet the stone beneath the lantern’s base was clean.

"There’s dust everywhere except beneath it."

Rook turned toward the light again.

He crouched beside it without touching the frame. A faint circular mark remained in the dust several feet to the left, showing where the lantern had previously rested. Someone had carried it into the street recently and placed it where travelers would see it.

Rook looked farther along the road.

Four more lanterns formed a pale trail through the ruins. Their lights continued between two collapsed buildings before turning out of sight.

"Where does that path lead?" Mara asked.

"Not where it did the last time I came through."

He rose and studied the surrounding structures.

Beyond the final pool of blue light, the road narrowed into a passage between two leaning buildings. Deep grooves covered the walls on either side. They began close to the ground and climbed upward, cutting through brick and stone before disappearing several floors above them.

Whatever had made them possessed claws longer than Rook’s falchion.

Mara followed his gaze. "Those weren’t made by Reapers."

"No."

The lantern suddenly felt heavier in her hand.

"Rook," she whispered.

Something shifted beneath the rubble ahead.

The sound was soft at first. Stone scraping over stone. Then a larger section of debris rose slightly before settling back into place.

Rook did not move.

Another scrape followed from somewhere behind the nearest wall.

Mara lowered her voice further. "What now?"

His useful hand reached toward the coffin, but he did not draw a weapon. The narrow passage ahead offered little room to fight, and whatever waited beyond it had left marks far above the reach of any human blade.

Rook looked at the trail of carefully positioned lanterns.

"Now we stop following directions."