The Kiss of Deception (The Remnant Chronicles 1) - Page 75

Where did she go, Ama?

She is gone, my child.

Stolen, like so many others.

But where?

I lift the child’s chin. Her eyes are sunken with hunger.

Come, let’s go find food together.

But the child grows older, her questions not so easily turned away.

She knew where to find food. We need her.

And that’s why she’s gone. Why they stole her.

You have the gift within you too, my child. Listen. Watch.

We’ll find food, some grass, some grain.

Will she be back?

She is beyond the wall. She is dead to us now.

No, she will not be back.

My sister Venda is one of them now.

—The Last Testaments of Gaudrel

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“They call it the City of Dark Magic.”

We stared at the ruins rising from the sands like sharp broken fangs.

At least now I knew we weren’t in Morrighan anymore. “I know what it is,” I said to Kaden. “Royals hear stories too.” As soon as I saw the ruined city, I knew what it was. I’d heard it described many times. It lay just beyond the borders of Morrighan.

I noticed the others had fallen silent. Griz stared ahead under thick scowling brows. “What’s the matter with them?” I asked.

“The city. The magic. It raises their hackles,” Kaden said. A shrug followed his answer, and I knew he had no such reservations.

“A sword is no good against spirits,” Finch whispered.

“But the city has water,” Malich said, “and we need it.”

I had heard many colorful stories about the dark magical city. It was said it was built in the middle of nowhere, a place of secrets where the Ancients could practice their magic and offer untold pleasures for a price. The streets had been made of gold, the fountains flowed with nectar, and sorceries of every kind were to be found. It was believed that spirits still jealously guarded the ruins and that was why so many of them were still standing.

We continued to move forward at a guarded pace. As we got closer, I saw that the sands had scoured away most of the color, but occasional patches survived. A hint of red here, a sheen of gold there, a fragment of their ancient writing carved in a wall. There was no wholeness left to the city. Every one of the magical towers that had once reached to the sky had crumbled to some degree, but the ruins evoked the spirit of a city more than any ruins I had ever seen. You could imagine the Ancients moving about.

Eben stared ahead, wide-eyed. “We keep our voices low as we pass through so we don’t arouse the dark magic and spirits.”

Arouse spirits? I scanned the faces of my once fierce captors, all of them sitting forward in their saddles. I felt a smile ignite deep inside, hope, a small bit of power returning to me. With no weapons, I had to use whatever I could to stay alive, and sooner or later I had to convince them that I really did have the gift.

I pulled on my reins, stopping my horse with a jolt. “Wait!” I said and I closed my eyes, my chin lifted to the air. I heard the others stop, the huff of their breaths, the quiet, the expectant pause.

“What are you doing?” Kaden asked impatiently.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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