Chapter 45 The Barrow's Secret

Chapter 45 The Barrow's Secret


The barrow looked smaller than Kaelen remembered.

It sat on the same low hill, dark and ancient, its entrance a black mouth in the earth. The grass around it was brown and wet from the melted snow, and the sky above was grey, the same grey as the stone walls of the Tower. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. The barrow waited.

Kaelen stood at the bottom of the hill, his hand on his knife, the warmth in his chest pulsing slowly. Sera stood beside him, her face pale, her eyes fixed on the dark entrance. Mira had her bow strung, an arrow nocked. Dorn stood at the rear, his sword drawn, his good hand steady on the grip. Halden stood apart from them, his arms crossed, his grey eyes scanning the hill.

"How long has it been?" Sera asked. "Since you were here last?"

"Months," Kaelen said. "Before the Tower. Before the door. Before the winter."

"It feels longer."

"It always does with places like this."

Halden stepped forward. "The First don't forget. They don't forgive. And they don't let go of what they consider theirs." He looked at Kaelen. "You touched the stone. You let the First taste it. They consider you theirs now."

Kaelen felt the warmth in his chest flicker. "I didn't have a choice."

"The First don't care about choices. They care about debts. And you owe them."

Sera turned to Halden. "You could have mentioned this before."

"Would it have changed anything? You still would have come. You still would have had to stop Veyra. The only difference is now you know what you're walking into."

Kaelen looked at the barrow. The entrance was dark, but he could feel something inside. Something watching. Something waiting.

"Let's go," he said. "We don't have time to stand here."

\-

The tunnel was the same as before.

Narrow and low, the walls packed earth and stone, the air cold and dry. Kaelen led the way, one hand on the wall, the warmth in his chest pushing back the darkness. Behind him came Sera, then Mira, then Dorn. Halden brought up the rear, his footsteps silent on the packed earth.

The tunnel opened into the chamber.

It was round, maybe twenty feet across, with a ceiling so high that the light from the warmth in Kaelen's chest could not reach it. The walls were lined with niches, and in each niche sat a bundle of cloth and bone, the dead, wrapped in shrouds that had rotted to threads over thousands of years.

At the center of the chamber stood the stone table. On it lay the body, better preserved than the others, its hands crossed over its chest, its face covered by the mask of hammered bronze.

The bronze mask turned toward them as they entered.

Keeper, the voice came, from everywhere and nowhere, from the mask and the walls and the bundles of cloth and bone. You have returned. You brought the stone back to us. You owe us a debt.

Kaelen stepped into the center of the chamber. The warmth in his chest burned brighter, pushing back the darkness, pushing back the weight of the First's attention.

"I'm not here to pay a debt," he said. "I'm here to find someone. A woman. She came here recently. She has a book. A book that belongs to me."

The thing on the table was silent for a moment. The bundles of cloth and bone rustled, as if the dead were whispering to each other.

The woman, the First said finally. The hungry one. She came to us with the book. She asked for our help. She wanted us to open the door for her.

"What did you tell her?"

We told her the price. She refused to pay it. She took the book and left. She is heading east, toward the mountains, toward the place where the first gods sleep.

Sera stepped forward. "What price? What did you ask for?"

The bronze mask turned toward her. The eyes behind it were dark, ancient, hungry.

We asked for her name. Her true name. The one she was born with. The one she has been running from her whole life. She would not give it. She is not ready to become what she must become to open the door.

Kaelen felt the warmth in his chest go cold. "What does her name have to do with opening the door?"

The door is sealed with names. The names of the first gods. The names of the First who imprisoned them. To open the door, you must speak the names aloud. But the names have power. They burn the ones who speak them. They consume the ones who are not ready.

The thing on the table shifted, its too-long fingers curling against the stone.

The woman is not ready. She will never be ready. She is hungry, but she is afraid. She wants the power, but she does not want to pay the price. She will fail.

Kaelen looked at the bronze mask. "Where is she now? Exactly?"

East. Two days. There is a pass through the mountains. The old pass. The one the First used when they built the door. She is heading there. She believes she can open the door without our help.

"Can she?"

The First was silent for a long moment.

No. But she can try. And trying will kill her.

\-

They left the chamber quickly.

Kaelen did not look back at the thing on the table. He did not look at the bundles of cloth and bone. He walked through the tunnel and out into the grey daylight, his heart pounding, his hands shaking.

Sera came up beside him. "What did it mean? About the names burning the ones who speak them?"

Kaelen stopped walking. He looked at the sky, at the grey clouds, at the distant mountains.

"The book showed me the names. All of them. The Cabal. The Wardens. The first gods. They burned when I read them. Not my body. Something deeper. Something inside."

He looked at his hands. The hands that had once held the black flame.

"The stone protected me. The grey mark. It kept the names from consuming me. But Veyra doesn't have the stone. She only has the book. And the book without the stone—"

"Will kill her," Halden finished. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his grey eyes watching. "The book was made to be used with the stone. Separately, they are dangerous. Together, they are powerful. Veyra has half the puzzle. She thinks that's enough."

Kaelen turned to face him. "Is it? Could she open the door with just the book?"

Halden was quiet for a moment. "The book has the names. The door needs the names. In theory, she could speak them and the door would open. But she would not survive the speaking. The names would burn through her like fire through dry grass."

"Would she know that?"

"Veyra knows many things. Whether she knows that—" Halden shook his head, "—I don't know. She is desperate. Desperate people do desperate things. Even things that will kill them."

Mira stepped forward. "Then we need to stop her before she tries. Two days. We can make it in two days if we push."

Kaelen looked at the mountains. The peaks were still white with snow, but the pass was lower, the snow thinner.

"We push," he said. "We don't stop until we find her."

\-

They walked through the rest of the day and into the night.

The ground grew rougher as they approached the mountains. The fields gave way to rocky hills, the hills to steep slopes, the slopes to narrow paths that wound between boulders and through stands of twisted trees. The cold returned, sharp and biting, and the wind carried the smell of snow.

Dorn's arm was hurting him. Kaelen could see it in the way he held it, the way he winced with every step. But the old soldier did not complain. He just kept walking, his eyes on the path ahead, his jaw set.

Sera walked beside Kaelen, her hand on his arm. "You're quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"About the First. About what they said. About Veyra trying to open the door and dying."

"Does it matter? If she dies trying?"

Kaelen was quiet for a moment. "She was one of us. For a while. She helped us seal the door. She helped us rebuild. She was trying to be better."

"Then she betrayed us. She killed Elara. She took the book."

"I know." He looked at the mountains. "But I keep thinking about what Orin said. About being forgotten. About wanting to be remembered. Veyra is going to die alone in the cold, trying to open a door that will kill her. And no one will remember her. Not as she was. Not as she could have been."

Sera squeezed his arm. "You can't save everyone, Kaelen."

"I know. But I can try."

They walked in silence, and the mountains grew closer, and the cold grew deeper, and the warmth in Kaelen's chest pulsed slowly, like a second heart.

\-

They made camp at the base of the pass.

There was no shelter, just rocks and snow and the darkening sky. Mira built a small fire, and they huddled around it, sharing what little food they had left. Dorn sat apart, his back against a boulder, his eyes on the pass above them.

"She's up there," he said. "I can feel her."

Kaelen looked at the pass. It was narrow, steep, the path winding between walls of rock. The snow was deeper here, but there were footprints in it. Recent footprints.

"She's not trying to hide," Sera said. "She wants us to follow her."

"Or she doesn't care if we do." Kaelen stood up. "We rest for a few hours. Then we go up."

"We're exhausted. We haven't slept properly in days."

"Neither has she. And she's carrying the book. The book is heavy. The book is hungry. It will slow her down."

Sera looked at him. "How do you know?"

Kaelen touched his chest, where the warmth still pulsed.

"Because I carried it. And I remember."

\-

The fire burned low. Mira slept, her bow beside her, her hand on the string. Dorn slept sitting up, his head against the boulder, his sword across his knees. Sera sat close to Kaelen, her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed.

He did not sleep. He watched the pass, and the stars, and the cold white snow.

The warmth in his chest pulsed slowly, and he thought about Orin. About the cave. About the amber light. The god had chosen to die so that Kaelen could live, so that he could carry the truth, so that he could be here, now, at the base of the mountain, waiting for dawn.

He would not waste that gift.

He would find Veyra. He would stop her. He would get the book back.

And then he would go home.