Chapter Two
Friend of the Dead
She woke in Tamlen's arms, naked, damp, and cold. The first three were not entirely unusual, but the cold was new. So was the headache.
"Lyna?" He whispered, his eyes more intense than she'd ever seen. She remembered the spiders, of course, but they felt a bit unreal, like a dream she hadn't quite shaken. "Emma vhenan, can you hear me?"
"You're two inches away, Tamlen," Mahariel mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Of course I can hear you." He heaved a sigh, shoulders drooping in relief. "Though I am wondering why I'm naked." She might have understood if he wasn't still in his leathers, covered in sweat, grime, and gore. Not that she usually forgot that sort of thing, but they were young and the gods could forgive them if they sometimes over-indulged in drink and herb.
"You were burning up," he explained, twining a lock of her dark hair around his finger. "I didn't know what else to do."
"Well," she smiled, sitting up a little straighter in his lap. "You saved me. But now I'm cold." Mahariel pouted playfully, cuddling closer. "You should save me from that, too."
Tamlen gaped at her. "You want to —Here? Now?" At her enthusiastic nod, he leaned backward. "Lethallan, you nearly died. Not five minutes ago, in this accursed cave, you nearly died! We should go back, have Marethari make sure —"
"Don't be dramatic," she rolled her eyes. "I just passed out. A little magic exhaustion isn't going to kill me." A blatant lie. She wasn't sure how close to death she'd been, but Marethari had told her in no uncertain terms that the fever could easily kill her. But Tamlen didn't need to know that just yet. Maybe never if she could get away with it.
"You're mad," Tamlen said, shaking his head at her but smiling.
"You love it," Mahariel smirked, drawing him in for a kiss, tender and sweet. He pressed his forehead against hers, staying so close she could feel his next words against her mouth.
"I do," he murmured. "It's going to kill me someday, but by the gods, do I love you."
Her heart stuttered in her chest. "Show me," she demanded, tangling her hand in his hair. "And I'll show you."
She felt his smile more than saw it. "You weren't joking were you? About the here and the now."
"I never joke about sex."
"Yes, you do. All the time," Tamlen argued half-heartedly, his hands tracing distracting patterns across her skin. If the hairs on her arms were standing up, it had nothing to do with the steady chill of the cavern.
"Not when I'm asking for it."
They were neither of them particularly gentle people and that didn't change when they were together, but something was different in the cave. It was all tenderness and lingering touches, intimacy and whispered promises. Satisfying as their more spirited unions were, Mahariel had enjoyed the change of pace.
Even when they were finished, dressed and armed once more, they stood a little closer together, held hands as they explored. It felt as though something had changed between them. She had no idea what that could be, but it made her heart race. And not in a bad way.
A comfortable silence grew between them as they walked, more cautious after their encounter with the spiders. Something about the ruins wasn't sitting well with either of them. Though they had seen unusually large creatures like that before, they had never seen them so savage; and there was something in the air, something indescribable that had them jumping at shadows.
They were deep in the bowels of the ruins —who knew how far below ground —when Mahariel spotted the first trap, a tripwire. "Watch your step," she murmured, cautiously toeing forward. She'd always had a mind for mechanics.
"Can you disarm it?" Tamlen asked, wisely staying put while she worked.
"Yes. Are there any others?"
"See that? Up ahead." Mahariel fed their torches with magic to give them a little more light. "Under that shit, I think I see another. A claw."
She nodded. "I see it, too. Stay put."
It only took a few minutes to disarm both traps and the two others she'd discovered down the corridor. "I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this," she said, pocketing some of the smaller pieces from the traps. Waste not.
"Starting to?" Tamlen cautiously covering the ground between them. "The monster spiders seemed normal to you?"
Mahariel rolled her eyes. "Let's just find what we're looking for and get out of here."
"Always the impatient one," he teased, twining their fingers together once more. She was surprised to find how much comfort the simple gesture brought. Even if their hands were sweaty and gross.
The further they moved down the corridor, the more concerning it grew. They had seen a few bodies —animal bodies —in the other chambers. This deep in the ruins, the skeletons had a distinctly person-like structure. Mahariel couldn't tell if they were human or elf, but the distinction wasn't important. There was more than one and something had killed them all. Something that, for all they knew, could still be down there.
"Careful," she whispered, as if either of them needed the reminder.
"Wait, do you see that?" Tamlen asked, holding his torch high and picking up the pace. "Lethallan, look!"
She saw it then, the statue with the distinctly elvhen look. It seemed vaguely familiar, but as far as she could discern it was just more old elvhen shit. History had never been her specialty. Tamlen, on the other hand, was delighted. Like a child with his first firefly.
"You know what this is don't you?" He whispered, almost sounding reverent.
"Old shit?"
"Yes," he laughed. "Old elvhen shit."
"Obviously."
"It's Falon'Din, Lyna. An ancient statue of Falon'Din." Tamlen was practically bouncing. "Do you have any idea how valuable this is?"
"Do you think the tablet came from this?"
He shook his head. "I don't see how. What do you suppose a statue like this is doing in these human ruins? Do you think this could date all the way back to Arlathan?"
"I think you're asking the wrong person, lethallin," Mahariel patted him on the shoulder consolingly. He would be wishing right now that Merrill had followed him down here instead; she would have been every bit as exciting by an old piece of misshapen rock as he was.
"Of course. Come on, let's see what else —"
The statue had excited him; Tamlen's dream of bringing glory to the clan was so close he could taste it. It made him reckless. It made him forget his feet.
"Watch out!" Mahariel shouted, a moment too late. The stone beneath him shifted, a pressure plate that triggered some kind of green haze, spurted from the walls. "Blades!" She ordered. In the tight, dark quarters, an arrow was as likely to hit a friend as a foe.
Metal scraping against bone echoed in the corridor and she threw her torch to the ground, unsheathing her twin daggers. Tamlen's sword scratched against its scabbard as he did the same. When the skeletons charged at them from the shadows, they were ready.
The thing about fighting the undead —a phrase Mahariel had never anticipated using —was that they had no brains. They were savage, certainly, but mindless. Like a wounded animal, desperate and backed into a corner. It lashed out carelessly with no thought for openings or flanks. She rammed her offhand dagger between the ribs of the first skeleton, pinning it while she swiped at its neck with the other. The skull popped clean off, rolling back into the shadows. She dismantled the rest of the body just to be certain.
Behind her, Tamlen was engaging two of his own undead, beating them back with his shield until he saw an opening for a swipe. They never noticed her coming.
All in all, a much easier fight than the giant spiders. Gods. Walking corpses and monster spiders.
"I hate caves."
"I'm starting to see why," Tamlen agreed, his breathing a little labored. Mahariel imagined that was more because of the excitement than the actual exertion. Or maybe the haze that still lingered in the air.
"Let's find your fame and fortune and be done with this." She retrieved their torches and checked for more traps. Far as she could tell, it was clean. "Heroes first."
Tamlen moved in front of the door, shield at the ready and feet braced for impact. After what they'd seen in the rest of the ruin, it was best to be prepared for anything. For all they knew, the fabled darkspawn horde was on the other side of that door. Though she didn't think a wooden shield would be enough to save them from that.
On his signal, Mahariel yanked back the door. It creaked a protest at the violent treatment, but she hardly heard it over the ferocious growl on the other side. It paid to be prepared.
The bear —was it even a bear? she'd never seen such a creature before —charged without hesitation. Tamlen rushed forward to meet it. Natural light filtered into the room through gaping cracks in the ceiling, so Mahariel abandoned the torches in favor of her bow.
Tamlen held his ground until the last possible second, dancing to the side as the beast barreled forward. Mahariel took the shot, her first arrow sinking deep into the creature's neck. Just not deep enough. The beast reared back with an angry roar, a new target in its sights.
Stupidly, it turned its back to one elf so that it might charge the other. Dropping his sword, Tamlen yanked his bow free just in time to bury an arrow in the creature's leg. It fell with another bone-rattling cry. Daggers in hand, Mahariel advanced. Tamlen pinned its other leg. The bear swiped at her with its massive paws, but it was slow in its agony. She danced easily outside its reach, circling around behind it. With two quick thrusts, she sliced open the monster's throat.
"Strike true," she gave it one more clean slice to finish the job. "Do not waver and let not your prey suffer. That is my way."
The twisted beast crumbled at her feet, dead.