Chapter Six: The Island

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There is no royal road to freedom from death. Only those who do not fear the barren wastelands, the swords and blood, only those who do not fear to fall from the greatest heights, have a chance of conquering the highest peaks.

-Book of the immortals.

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The rope is rough against my palms, already warm from the others' winches. I grip the metal climbing tool with trembling fingers and hook myself onto the line. Before I've even left the ground, it feels like it's falling away beneath me. For a paralysing moment, I'm stuck, my fear rooting me in place.

But then I think of Olly, somewhere above me, battling his own demons on this climb. I think of the life that awaits us both after reaching the island, free from the slums that have trapped us for so long. Those visions propel me upwards.

Each pull on the winch is a battle against my terror. I force myself not to look down, focusing only on the rope under my hands, the island drawing nearer above. The vast sky seems to swallow me, the ground a distant memory. I feel as though I'm climbing into the heavens themselves.

Balen follows, silent except for the scrape and squeak of the winch. Knowing he’s there helps, even if he will swing out of the way if I loose my grip, watching with detached curiosity as I hurtle screaming to the earth far below.

Don't look down, I repeat over and over in my mind like a mantra. But of course I do. The ground is impossibly distant, blurring and stretching away down a tunnel that seems to lengthen by the heartbeat.

"Move it, coward, before I pull you off." Balen's words cut through the fear, flushing hot anger through me as his scarred face comes into focus.

"Die in the void, Balen," I say back at him.

The anger smothers my panic, and a strange calm settles over me. I do this, and Olly and I can get essence, become a Hammer caste, and start working our way. Explore the Sovereign’s tower, and find it’s riches. We’ll never be beaten by the guards again, never go to sleep with a gnawing belly.

I climb. Sweat beads on my forehead and my breath comes in gasping pulls, but I don't stop.

The cliff's edge draws near at last. The rich scent of earth and stone fills my nose. One final heave brings me up and over, onto solid ground. I collapse in a heap, shaking. My hands are raw and my limbs are liquid, but it doesn’t matter, I made it. I’m solid earth. In a way.

Olly collapses to a heap beside me and throws an arm around my shoulder. “And you told me you were afraid of heights. Korm, you are one lying void kisser.”

I try to keep my face straight as I glare at him, but hysterical laughter bubbles up, starting as a chuckles but soon erupting into a full guffaw. The tear stream down my cheeks. First Olly, then the others join in, sounding as relieved as I feel. Our laughter floats strangely in the silence of this isolated world.

This place is real. Not just another tavern story. The immense weight of fear and doubt that had pressed down on my chest lifts away, replaced by a buoyant lightness.

The twins stroll over and Tomas extends a hand to help me up. "Nicely done," he says, voice as rough as the sands far below.

Olly and I exchange a quick glance before I take the offered hand and climb to my feet. "Thanks."

His twin, Meli looks me up and down. "Handled your fear well enough," she says. "Looked like you might faint for a moment. Not many can do that with no safety lines."

Tomas shrugs. "Bravery or stupidity, hard to tell out here."

Him repeating the motto of the slum endears me to them instantly. Meli points toward the rest of the group in turn. "The one in robes is Lika, and that surly fellow there goes by Jarek."

Lika offers only a distant nod, her gaze already lost among the ruins.

Jarek is the one I mentally nicknamed Pinched-face. He's tall, with a perpetual smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. He meets my gaze with an openly challenging stare.

"Just because you made it up here, Vardos," he says, "doesn't make you one of us."

His words are barbs in my skin, but I bite back the retort on my tongue, knowing it's the reaction he wants.

"Listen close, all of you." Balen's sharp voice cuts through the wind. His gaze sweeps over each of us in turn. "The rules here are simple. Anything you find, anything at all, gets brought to me. Do that, and you'll get a cut of the essence. But if any of you even think of double-crossing me..."

His piercing stare locks onto mine for a weighted moment, a silent promise of violence that sends a chill slithering down my spine.

"Well, let's just say it won't end well." Balen pulls a timeglass from his coat and flips it over. The white sand inside begins its steady downward trickle. "I've bought us one hour before the General's Swords come storming in. After that, you're on your own."

A ripple of unease passes through the scavengers at the mention of the Swords. Regular Sword caste magicians will kill you with a single blow, but the General's personal cadre of hunters have you screaming until old age.

Olly leans close, speaking low. "A turn? That's all the time we get?"

I nod grimly, acutely aware of the sand trickling through the glass. "We'll have to move fast then."

I retrieve my own timeglass from my pack and flip it over, clipping it onto the strap across Olly's chest. The first grains of sand have already rest at the bottom. "Keep it upright," I remind him, even though he already knows.

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Balen grunts, drawing our attention back to him. "Split up and cover more ground. And remember - anyone tries to play hero and keep their finds secret..." His steel-grey eyes bore into mine once more. "It'll be the last heroic act they ever attempt. Understood?"

Without another word, the rest begin to fan out and pick paths through the dense foliage. The sharp-featured twins set off together, heads bent close in hushed conversation. Lika and Jarek disappear in opposite directions, neither sparing a glance back at the rest of us.

I catch Olly's eye and jerk my head toward a crumbling structure just visible through the trees. "Let's see what we can find before the others pick this place clean."

He nods and we set off, winding our way along a meandering path through enormous ancient trees and curtains of vines.

"Can you believe how alive this place is?" Back in the city, Amenion seems dry and barren compared to the rich vegetation here.

Olly scratches his chin. "Reckon it's the same magic keeping this island afloat."

Strange bird calls echo around us, beautiful yet eerie. There is a wildness to this place that raises the fine hairs at my nape.

Soon the trees thin out and vines take over, snaking up and across tumbled piles of ruins built from smooth, pale stone. Even in decay, the architecture possesses an elegant, harmonious grace. I trail my fingers over carvings of solemn robed scholars and soldiers frozen mid-action.

Olly's face mirrors the same naked awe kindling within me. "Just imagine the secrets hidden here," he says. Despite the bleakness of our lives below, Olly's optimism never fades. I wish I still had that ability to see beauty and potential, rather than viewing this place as merely our desperate chance for escape.

We pick our way deeper into the skeletal remains of what was once a thriving city. Sections of walls and buildings peek out from beneath blankets of moss and encroaching plants. Scraps of the past litter the ground underfoot - bits of rusted tools and weapons, fabric reduced to mere threads, shattered pottery and glass.

Olly crouches suddenly, carefully extracting a cracked bowl half-buried in the dirt. "Real people lived here once. Doesn't it make you sad, seeing it like this now?"

I trail my fingers over a carved pillar, tracing the dignified features of scholars forever preserved in stone. "It is sobering, knowing even these supposed immortals eventually died. That nothing lasts."

What had it been like, soaring between islands on enchanted airships, the wind whipping through your hair? Exploring the sky wide open and free...

My dreams used to be simple - a full belly, a sturdy roof overhead, nights without fear of the press gangs sweeping the gutters. But after watching so many friends imprisoned or wasting away after selling their essence, I'm not sure I want any part of the city. Together we pick our way deeper into the skeletal remains, alert for the glow of artefacts. The structures have collapsed in on themselves over time, but up ahead I spot a stone archway that seems to lead into an interior space.

We clamber up the rubble slope and I squeeze through the narrow gap, emerging into a gloomy, cavernous hall beyond. The prickling sense of being watched raises the fine hairs on my neck and arms. Broken beams spear down through the shattered roof overhead. Debris and shadows blanket the vast chamber. Slanting rays of light pierce the gloom, falling across sections of rubble and long-cold hearths. Our footsteps seem muffled, absorbed by the heavy air.

I pick my way carefully toward a row of towering statues lining one mossy wall. Carved from dark stone, they depict stern-faced warriors with weapons upraised. They look so lifelike they could be people turned to stone mid-motion, still struggling to break free. I can't meet their lifeless eyes for long.

Olly squeezes through the gap to stand at my side, half-drawing his dagger as his shoulders tense. "Friendly looking fellows," he says with forced levity. But it's clear from his posture he also expects the statues to lurch into motion any second.

I tighten my grip on my knife. "Stay close."

Moving slowly, poised to react, I inch deeper into the oppressive murk. But only silence presses in around us.

We tiptoe across the mosaic tile floor, alert for anything that seems out of place. I notice a slight give under my boot. "Careful, the floor here-"

But it's too late. Before I can react, the rotted section of floorboards collapses under our combined weight with an echoing crack. We're plunged into darkness amidst a rain of debris and dust.

I hit hard, broken tiles clattering around me, sharp pain lancing through my ribs. For a stunned moment I can only lay sprawled there struggling to pull air back into my emptied lungs.

I peer through the settling clouds."Olly? You alright?"

"Here," comes a faint cough in reply. Olly crawls into view, coated in dust but looking otherwise unharmed apart from scrapes and what will become a spectacular bruise. I clasp his shoulder in relief. We were lucky to survive that fall intact.

I straighten slowly, wincing at the flare of pain along my side. Rising to my feet, I take in our surroundings. We seem to be in some kind of old tunnel.

Olly tests his weight on one ankle gingerly before standing as well. He squints down the shadowy passageway ahead of us. "Well, I suppose that's one way to get down quickly."

I glance upward at the hole we plunged through. There are enough handholds in the crumbling earth and roots to scale back up. "Think we should climb out and keep searching above ground?"

But Olly is already craning his neck, trying to see further into the darkness ahead. "This has to run right under the structures above," he says. "There could be relics down here people haven't laid eyes on since the immortals lived."

I hesitate, but finally nod. Our lives depend on what we can salvage from this place. We have no choice but to press onward and hope these buried tunnels hold long-forgotten treasures.

With a bravado I don't truly feel, I take the first uneasy steps into the passage. The reek hits my nose immediately - cloying damp and fungal decay. It coats the back of my throat with each breath until I can taste the bitterness.

The stench only intensifies as we descend cautiously. Beams overhead sag under the weight of years, dripping with furry growths. It's like decay given physical form.

The prickling sense of unseen eyes watching me returns even stronger. I whirl, muscles tensed to strike out. But it's only our shadows, monstrous in the flickering light. With a shaky exhale, I turn back and continue onward. Olly's footsteps shuffle along in my wake, punctuated by the skitter of loosened pebbles kicked ahead. I can feel his hesitation growing with every step, the desire to turn back before we're hopelessly lost. But he doesn't give it voice. Not yet.

My own doubts chafe relentlessly with each passing minute in this cramped maze. But we press on. We both know why we cannot turn back, as seductive as that option may seem. Not when our only chance at escape depends on whatever forgotten knowledge or artefacts lie buried here.

The stale air grows cooler and drier as we descend through earth and stone. After what feels like hours, the tunnel opens abruptly onto a sheer drop. I creep to the edge and peer out for a better view, heart in my throat.

An immense pyramid dominates the vast cavern before us, made from polished obsidian that seems to devour the dim light. Strange rippling symbols and half-glimpsed figures glide across the glassy surface. This feels like a place untouched for centuries, heavy with the weight of history and secrets long forgotten.

We made it. Whatever relics lie within must be valuable beyond measure if they were buried so deeply. I meet Olly's eyes, seeing my own mix of exhilaration and fear reflected back. Wordlessly I point to a narrow stairs carved into the pyramid's flank, leading down into the heavy darkness. Olly nods, jaw clenched. Together we begin our descent toward whatever awaits within those depths.