Chapter 52: The Rocky Maze

It took Miro and Peteri almost a whole hour to reach the first of the steep cliffs that cut into the shoreline, which forced them to turn away from the high edge above the sea and make their way towards lower ground. Each passing minute weighed heavily on Miro and he pictured the doubt in Healer Oreksei’s eyes even as he offered Miro this one last hope. What this hope came down to was a maze of narrow passages between high rock walls where the ruts between the stones underfoot got so deep that Peteri decided that they should tie Winterbug up and proceed further on foot. Miro hoped that whatever lived out here that had a taste for cormorants did not share a similar disposition towards horses.

Miro felt as if he were in a dream – that if he were to abandon all hesitation and rush through every twisting turn without thinking, he would suddenly find himself awake and at his destination. Instead, the passages grew only deeper, narrower and darker, and Peteri continued to follow with patience and without questioning any of Miro’s moves.

Miro stopped, unsure of not only where to go but whether they would now be able to find their way back. It was colder down here – a wet kind of coldness that was all-encompassing. It reminded him of being entombed in ice by Hima, so deep that it touched even his powers. Two points of Intellect and four points of Charisma and where did it get him? A cold coffin while his friend lay dying a hundred miles away.

Miro looked up into the swatch of steely-grey sky above them.

“Peteri, what should I do?” he asked, still craning his neck.

“Keep going.”

“Where?” Miro drew out the question while stretching his arms out away from his body. “Where is there to go from here? I don’t think I’ll be able to even find the sea at this point.” His voice echoed unpleasantly between the rocks and he could hear that he sounded almost as if he was laughing.

“The circus,” Miro said more calmly.

“What’s that now?” Peteri asked, his voice even as always.

“The circus. After all this is done, that’s where I’m going to go. I’m going to find a nice little travelling troupe of performers as we travel the Kingdom and live a carefree irresponsible hedonistic life. ‘Come see Miro Kaldoun the Magnificent Loon as he shoots fire and lightning at this wall because it’s the smallest target he can hit without missing!’” Miro fired both a fireball and a lightning bolt at the side of the rocky cliff in front of him, sending a shower of orange and yellow sparks to the ground under their feet.

“Miro,” he heard Peteri say, and at first thought it was an admonishment, but then Miro looked up to find that the wall in front of him crackled with fiery electric energy. The shimmering spot on the wall sounded like distant thunder and the rustling of a roaring flame, until one bolt separated from the rest and ran the length of the stone cliff face and disappeared around the corner. Miro gave Peteri the briefest of glances and seeing a nod, ran after it, the old archer following lightly on his feet behind him.

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Miro made a turn, then another turn, chasing the now fading line, Peteri following swiftly behind him. There was, Miro knew, no chance that he would allow it to give him the slip, and when Miro thought it was about to start leading him in circles, they stepped out from between the crags to the shores of a small bay. To their right, the waves beat in rhythmic crashes against the sheer rockface, while to their left, a gentle slope of rough, gravel-pocked rock gradually disappeared into the water.

It was low tide, which revealed above the surface of the water the fist-sized heads of dull-orange barnacles lined with spindly red tendrils, which spit out plumes of water and made the whole near side of the bay a constant eruption of miniature geysers. The hissing sounds they were making added to the tumult present on the shores of the Shattered Sea, but Miro could hardly pause to admire the strange aquatic creatures. It was the sight up ahead that gripped his attention.

At the head of the bay, two massive cliffs leaned into each other, creating a narrow exit to the rest of the Shattered Sea. And it was in this space where, against all notions of reality and gravity, the temple was nestled. One building, its colour so brightly red it seemed to be completely untouched by wind or water, was built directly into one cliff, while its identical twin was built into the other. A third structure, with the same wavy awnings and latticework along its walls, hung precariously between them several hundred feet above the water, held in place as if by the sheer force of will of its occupants. Miro wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find when he set out to locate the temple, but it was nothing like this.

In answer to his question about how he might make it to the structure itself, he heard the sound of a small rickety boat bump roughly up against the shore on the waves, tugging at the rope that was tied to a metal ring that jutted out of the rockface.

“As I said,” he heard Peteri say behind him, “Just keep going.”

“I guess you were right,” Miro said uncertainly, still not quite believing that he had found the place that not even Healer Oreksei had been able to reach.

“Looks like the last steps are for you alone.”

“What?” Miro turned around to face the archer. He wasn’t ready for this – nothing good seemed to come of his attempts to adventure solo.

“The boat,” Peteri nodded in the direction of the assortment of green-stained half-rotted planks that had the mistaken notion that they were a water-capable vessel. “Think it’s only big enough for one.”

“I don’t think size is my main worry here.” Miro looked back at the boat again and then towards the temple hanging above the water. Even if he were to get there, he saw no way up the sheer cliff to the temple. That though seemed like a problem he would need to solve when he came to it.

“I’ll be right here,” Peteri said, “No matter how much time you need.” To make his point, the archer sat down, cross-legged, and took off his bow to place it in his lap.

“Thank you, Peteri,” Miro said, and took his first steps down the rocky slope towards the water. He had to wade ankle deep before he could reach the boat, the salty spray carried by the wind from the exhalations of the barnacles settling on his arms. Up close, the rickety thing didn’t look any safer, but it contained a pair of oars, and that seemed like a small enough victory.

The knot that tied down the boat was tight and slick from constant exposure to seawater, but Miro managed to get it loose despite fingers that stiffened from the damp cold, and then dropped himself into a boat that wobbled so hard he wondered if it could even support him. Setting to the oars, he found that they hardly did anything against the current, but the stoic immobile form of Peteri, who never seemed to break eye contact with Miro, was a steadying presence he appreciated.