People look scared, skeptical, and confused. Some look utterly curious.
With Skar’s suggestion that we go into the lion’s den to find answers, it’s time to continue our mission free from distractions. Aramastun has made the next move on the game board. We need to respond. I get the sense we’re running out of time, and can’t be fighting among ourselves unless we want to fall to ruin.
“We need to go see Liolen Sesk while we’re up there,” I tell them. “It’s time.”
“It’s only been a matter of days, little honey badger,” Garroway says. “Should we not plan this out more sufficiently?”
“No. I want to get Palacia back where she belongs, with us. And we needsilver, dammit. Liolen has made clear the only way that’s going to happen.”
Vallan says, “We could always break into the North Mines without the overliege’s permission. Perhaps Cordea would help us, if she’s still the forewoman.”
“And make a new enemy of the dandy liege, when we already have so many?” Skar scoffs. “Unwise, brother.”
Lukain has been completely silent. He’s regained his silver saber from the fight, and suddenly I don’t feel safe with him having it around my other vampiric mates. He looks ready to lash out at any moment, biding his time for the right opportunity.
“We’ve put ourselves in a corner of our own making, guys,” I tell them. “Now it’s time we get ourselves out of it.”
We’re nearing the north entrance after walking in hooded secrecy for hours. The press of humans is becoming tight andconfining. We start to weave between the crowd, moving toward the front.
Ahead, vampire and dhampir guardsmen who typically act as sentinels, with the north gates their dominion, stand in a defensive line, facing out toward the dozens of citizens who have made the trek here.
If for no other reason, morbid curiosity has brought the lowest denizens of Nuhav to the gates. I see no reason why a well-meaning mother and her horde of whelps might want to ascend the mountain to Olhav, for instance, when all they’ve lived are horrible circumstances under the Five Ministries’ iron fist.
But these folk, out past midnight, stumbling and staring bleary-eyed at the wrought-iron gates and high stone walls? Many of them have nothing to lose. No family. No future. They’re high and drunk and curious what sort of treasures await them in the golden city—a place they’ve never had jurisdiction to go before.
Tradesmen, too, have shown up in their sleepwear, woken from slumber to see if there is something tangible and worthwhile they might be able to pocket in Olhav and bring back down to Nuhav. Redcloud shipments, perhaps? Silver straight from the source? Magicked items and gadgetry they cannot even fathom, hidden in the rising spires and marvelous towers on the mountains?
These people have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.
And that, I believe, brings me a little closer to the truth. “Aramastun can present this as an opportunity,” I mutter to my mates. They have to lean in to hear me over the thread of confused conversations carrying on around us. “Then take whatever he wants when the gullible flock is on his doorstep.”
Lukain finally speaks, and it’s not to say anything nice or supportive. “Gullible flock? What does that make us, Sephania, standing out here in the cold alongside them?”
I flare my nostrils, turn to argue—
And a loud, jarringsquealof metal steals my words. It stabs into my brain, making me dizzy. Whipping my head forward, I watch as the Olhavian sentinels step aside, creating a pathway forward.
Through that path, the ever-present iron gates separating the vampires and humans begins to lower, to allow the living and the undead to commingle for the first time in a century.
We are some of the first people through the gate. Vallan and Lukain lead the way. One of them is our largest battering ram, the other our angriest, needing no reason to crack some heads.
Once past the gates, many of the humans stall. They don’t know where to go, other than up the mountain path. Now they’re frightened of what they’re getting themselves into, for good reason, and are frozen with fear as they stare heavenward toward the stark slope of the Olhavian Peaks.
They’ve never been close enough to touch the mountainside before. Now that they can reach out and run their palms along its craggy surface . . . they hesitate.
Some of the more audacious and courageous humans immediately start the climb. It’s about an hour on foot for a fit person to ascend the trade road. These are the merchants, willing to toss aside their safety for the dream of a huge payday. I’m not even suretheyknow what it is they’re looking for in the golden city on the hill, but I know whatever they find willnotbe what they expect.
Aramastun Wyvox and the Three Ministries do not do anything out of the kindness of their hearts. Of course. This is a ploy of some kind, perhaps enacted by the Night Judge alone, or with the okay from the Gilded Liege and the Damned Sister.
There’s certainly a feeling we’re lambs being led to the slaughter. It’s a pervasive, creeping sensation that starts in my belly and seizes my heart. I imagine it’s what all the Nuhavians feel as they let others pass them and run ahead. They want to see the terrors that await them before running headlong into them, and think they’re being wise and prudent by holding off the climb while others make it.
Maybe there’s also a sense of mind-control here. Redcloud addicts not even knowing what they’re doing, other than putting one foot in front of the other. They haven’t thought that far ahead, aboutwhatawaits them in Olhav. Only that it’s something new and undiscovered for humankind.
I recall Skar’s histories, learning Olhav was once inhabited solely by humans. Before the vampire infestation that originated in the north mines and quickly swept across the country, warring kingdoms north and south of the Olhavian Peaks used Haven—the city as it was called at the time—quite literally. It was ahavenagainst the war, for traders and merchants to offload goods, a place for mercenaries to find work free from battle.
I wonder if some of these very same tradesmen now climbing the mountain, over a century later, are the descendants of those original wealthy landowners and merchants who inhabited Haven. Maybe they see a sense of entitlement coming back here to the stolen homeland of their ancestors.
Whatever the case, I can’t think about it any longer. I feel safe with my mates, except perhaps Lukain with his silver sword. I know they’ll protect me, if nothing else.