A Valley of Darkness

  We looked at the patch of shady pine trees bordering that side of the mountain, and noticed two figures sneaking through. They hadn’t seen us, as they had their backs to us, and were hunched forward and looking up, as if making sure no one could see them from above. Heron put his hand on my shoulder, telling me to duck, and I caught their scent.

  “Imen,” I whispered.

  He nodded, then darted across the rocky trail. He shot through the trees, and I heard the two Imen yelp and squeal. Heron emerged from between the trees, holding each Iman by the back of the neck. I rushed over, my hands up in a reassuring gesture.

  “It’s okay, we don’t want to hurt you,” I said gently.

  “Then let us go!” the elder Iman said.

  They were both male and looked dirty, their hair ruffled and their clothes tattered. They smelled of burnt wood, wet grass, and wilderness, not the clean scent of Azure Heights.

  “Where do you come from? Who are you?” I asked them.

  The elder Iman looked in his mid-forties, with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. The young one resembled him in all features and was probably in his late teens—most likely his son. They gave Heron and me fearful glances, then frowned and stared at the ground.

  “They’re not going to talk like this,” Heron groaned, rolling his eyes. He let the elder go and quickly snapped his fingers. It was enough to make them both look at him, and Heron’s glare flickered gold. “Stay here.”

  He moved around and came to my side, with both Imen now under his control.

  “Now you can ask them whatever you want.” He smirked.

  The Imen’s expressions were blank as they stood before us, their arms limp at their sides.

  “What are your names?” I went for an easy start.

  “I’m Bear,” the elder Iman said. “This is my son, Sinon.”

  “Where are you from?” I couldn’t smell a single fiber of Azure Heights on them, and I’d already registered all common Imen scents from the city.

  “We’re free people,” Bear replied, his voice mellow. “We live beyond the gorges…”

  “You crossed the Valley of Screams?” Heron asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. We come here sometimes,” Bear said. “We sneak into the city. We have family still working here, so we pay them a visit when the masters aren’t around.”

  “We also steal supplies when we visit,” Sinon added, making Bear groan. Despite being under Heron’s mind-bending, he seemed to still have some sense left, if he was able to react to his son revealing their operation.

  “What supplies?” I asked, slightly amused.

  “Leathers, grains, and spices, mostly,” Sinon replied. “There are secret routes leading into the city, so we can carry plenty and get to the plains without being spotted.”

  “Secret routes?” I muttered, then looked up at Heron. “Do you think the daemons are using them to get into the city?”

  “I don’t see the point, since they’re invisible,” Heron said.

  “The daemons aren’t invisible unless they’re hunting,” Bear replied, leaving both Heron and I speechless.

  I needed a second to wrap my head around what he’d just said.

  “Wait… You know about the daemons? Did you see them? What do they look like?” I threw out the questions as they popped into my head.

  Bear seemed startled. He glanced around, as if worried someone might hear him.

  “Shush,” he whispered. “They could be nearby… They’re big, they’re huge, with claws and vicious red eyes and…”

  His voice trailed off. He froze, staring up the mountain. Sinon, Heron, and I followed his gaze and saw two Exiled Maras watching us from above. They stood on a stone ledge, an extension of the third-level platform toward the northwest, bordered with a wrought-iron fence. They were dressed in plain dark clothes with hoods, their faces covered with smoky goggles and masks, and they had some kind of blue badge on their right arms.

  Bear fell to his knees, followed by Sinon. They both held their heads, moaning and grunting.

  “The pain,” Bear cried out. “Make it stop…”

  “What’s happening?” I tried to touch the Imen, but they shuddered beneath my hands, in sheer agony. “What is going on?”

  “They’re mind-bending them!” Heron growled. “It’s what happens when an Iman is being mind-bent by two or more Maras. The brain overloads. It’s extremely painful.”

  “Oh, crap,” I gasped, remembering the blue badges. “Those are Correction Officers!”

  “Make it stop!” Bear’s muffled cry came from below.

  “What do we do?” I asked Heron, desperate to stop the Exiled Maras from turning Bear and Sinon’s brains to mush.

  “The soul eaters will kill us,” Sinon groaned, pushing his forehead into the hard ground.

  “Soul eaters? What’s a soul—” I was interrupted by Heron’s quick thinking, as he pulled one of his chest plates off and lifted it in such a way that the sunlight reflected off the metallic surface. It hit the Correction Officers in the face. They looked away, covering their eyes. They were temporarily blinded, despite the glasses. It wouldn’t do any long-term damage, but it was enough to break their hold on the Imen.

  Bear and Sinon immediately sprang to their feet and vanished back inside the small patch of woods from which Heron had pulled them. We ran after them but couldn’t find them anywhere. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air. All I could see were trees and large rocks that had tumbled off the mountain, their top sides covered in moss.

  “What just happened? Where’d they go?” I was frustrated at that point, because I couldn’t event track their scent anymore.

  Heron cursed under his breath, then ran back out. I followed, and we both looked up. The Correction Officers were nowhere to be seen.

  “Did you hear what Bear said?” I asked, staying behind Heron as we trekked back to the main road into the city.

  “He said a lot of things,” he muttered.

  He was angry. I could tell from his posture—his shoulders were tense and his fists closed tight.

  “Soul eaters,” I reminded him. “He said ‘soul eaters’…”

  “I have no idea what a soul eater is.”

  “Do you think he meant the Correction Officers?” I wondered whether it was a more poetic way of referring to Kifo’s henchmen.

  “What, as in a dramatic nickname?” he replied. “Like you’re called the ‘Hound Dog’?”

  I poked him in the rib, prompting him to cough, then chuckle.

  “I see your high spirits are back.” I smiled. I really didn’t like seeing him angry. There was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, but at least I’d made him laugh a little. “I find it amazing that Imen travel through the Valley of Shadows.”

  “Yeah, that was unexpected. Do you think the Five Lords know?”

  “I don’t know… I don’t think so,” I said as we reached the first level of Azure Heights. “I bet whatever secret routes Bear and Sinon are using would’ve been sealed by now, if the Exiled Mara knew.”

  “Then I wouldn’t tell them, either.” Heron gave me a brief glance as we headed up the stairs leading to the second level. None of the scents in the area resembled the one I’d picked off Minah. We’d struck out on that side of the mountain, as far as tracking Minah’s killer went.

  “This does leave room for a lot more questions,” I replied, catching a glimpse of geared-up Exiled Maras with blue badges in a reflection on a nearby window. I caught their scents, too. Musk and salt. “Like why are Kifo’s Correction Officers following us?”

  Heron stilled, then glanced over his shoulder as we reached the infirmary, where more Correction Officers were stationed outside—ten of them, to be precise, standing tall and motionless, their hands behind their backs. Given that they were beneath the awning, they didn’t wear masks or goggles. The two who were following us passed by us and joined the others, removing their head covers in the process.

  We instinctively took o
ff our masks and goggles, now back under the terrace covers. I heard Heron grunt as he watched them for a few seconds. He then walked up to the last Correction Officer, one of our “stalkers”, bringing his face deliberately close to his in an intimidating gesture.

  “Why are you following us?” Heron growled.

  The Correction Officer didn’t answer. I reached Heron’s side just as he pulled his large knife out and brought it up to the CO’s neck. The others turned their heads to look at us, but did not move, their expressions firm.

  “Heron, what are you—”

  “Why are you following us?” Heron raised his voice, ignoring me. He glared at the Correction Officer, whose nostrils flared once—his only reaction to having a blade against his neck.

  “We were ordered to watch over you,” the Exiled Mara finally replied.

  Heron didn’t seem happy with his answer. He gave the other Correction Officers an inquisitive glance, then shifted his focus back on the one in front of him.

  “Were you up on the third-level ledge earlier?” Heron asked.

  “No, sir.” The Mara blinked once. “We watched you from the first level until you came back.”

  “So who was up on the third-level ledge?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “They were Correction Officers,” Heron retorted. “Surely you can ask a question among your ranks.”

  “If Lord Kifo allows it, I will, sir,” the Mara replied, exceptionally calm given the circumstances. He then gave me a quick glance, and blinked a couple of times. “We were instructed to follow, and nothing else. But I should advise you… Keep your distance from the rogue Imen. They scamper out of the Valley of Screams and come up here to loot the lower levels. They’re filthy creatures, and they’ll stab you in the eye for a piece of bread if you don’t pay attention.”

  Heron didn’t say anything, but the vein throbbing in his temple told me everything I needed to know. We had no idea who the Correction Officers who had mind-bent the Imen were, but they clearly didn’t want us talking to the “filthy creatures”.

  I gently put my hand on Heron’s forearm, and pressed until he withdrew it and put his knife away. He then poked the Mara in the chest with his index finger, baring his teeth. I saw his sharp fangs for the first time, in a threatening expression, and I found myself out of breath.

  “Find out who those two on the third-level ledge were,” Heron hissed. “And if Lord Kifo doesn’t want you talking to me, let me know, and I’ll sort it out with him.”

  We then went into the infirmary, where Patrik and Scarlett were still looking at Minah’s body through the protection spell. Patrik nearly smiled when he saw us come in, but a frown quickly settled over the expression when he noticed Heron’s residual glare from his exchange with the Correction Officer.

  We quickly brought them up to speed with what we’d done and the rogue Imen we’d come across, along with the mind-bending incident. It made Patrik scoff and cross his arms over his chest, while Scarlett sat on an empty bed.

  “I didn’t think Imen could make it through those gorges alive,” Patrik replied.

  “Yeah, our thoughts exactly,” I muttered.

  Patrik’s expression lit up, usually the sign of a great idea coming from the Druid.

  “Can you check the library for some maps of the Valley of Screams?” he asked, looking at Heron and me. “Surely someone must’ve traced at least some of the routes through the gorges. Actually, even a map of this continent would do. Any geographical references will help.”

  “What are you thinking?” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

  “Trust me.” He winked. “You’ll thank me later. Just find out if there are any maps of Neraka in that library, and get me some. I’m particularly interested in the Valley of Screams.”

  I nodded. Heron put on his head cover, mask, and goggles. The staircases leading up to the library weren’t covered, and the sun was still out. We left Patrik and Scarlett with Minah in the infirmary, and headed upstairs to the city library. Two Correction Officers followed us, as per their protocol, but kept a decent distance, just in case Heron decided to flip out again.

  Whatever was going on in this city, it was getting murkier each day. But Patrik had gotten me curious, and I, too, started wondering about what lay beyond those gorges. Surely the Exiled Maras had gone exploring at some point, long before their people had started disappearing.

  We’d looked into records and history books, but we hadn’t thought to check their geography section. Good thing I loved a good research session.

  Fiona

  (Daughter of Benedict & Yelena)

  I went with Hansa to the east side of the mountain, which was basically a steep limestone wall overlooking the deep, dark blue ocean. Small trees popped out from rebel ridges here and there, where some soil had fallen from the top, years ago. We’d noticed a couple of Exiled Maras trailing us through the city earlier, and Hansa had identified them as Correction Officers, based on their blue badges, but we’d quickly lost them in the second level slums.

  We followed a narrow stone path out of the city. I was covered from head to toe, given that these areas were not protected from direct sunlight. It was getting a little too hot for my taste, but I kept up with Hansa nonetheless. She came to a halt at the end of the trail, and I stopped behind her. We both looked down and noticed the almost-vertical descent. The area below looked as though someone had scooped out that part of the mountain with a giant spoon, several tall trees casting their shadows over the water lapping at the shore.

  The Five Lords had previously told us a little bit about the eastern mountainside, snippets dropped in conversations at the Spring Ball, so we had a good idea about what we were getting ourselves into. I remembered Vincent’s accounts of Imen climbing down the wall using rope, so I had brought a lot of it with me, carrying the entire thousand-foot roll on my shoulder.

  “Are you sure this is going to hold?” Hansa asked, her voice unusually weak as she glanced at the eight-millimeter braided rope.

  “Yeah, this is heavy-duty stuff,” I assured her. “It’s a metal fiber cord in textile braid. Remember, I was pretty specific with the store owner. Given they’ve lived their whole lives on this mountain, I’m pretty sure they know their rock-climbing gear.”

  We’d stopped by a building equipment store, a small place up on the first level that sold a variety of cables and construction tools, the go-to place when new residential expansions were carved into the stone walls on the northwest side, and Imen workers needed safe ways to rappel. The old Exiled Mara had been quite adamant that the rope he’d sold me was the best for what we were about to do. I’d used my strength to test it, and it hadn’t snapped. I called this method the “Fiona Quality Check”.

  “Okay, well, let’s get this show on the road then,” Hansa muttered, and pulled out two long and thick metal bolts with the top ends curled into eyes. “I didn’t bother to bring a hammer, seeing as… you know…”

  She smirked at me. I chuckled, then switched places with her on the edge.

  “Hold this, give me these,” I said, handing over the rope as I took the bolts, then dropped to my knees and shoved them both, hard, into the path’s rock. They went in deep inside the limestone. “Better than a drill…”

  I wiggled them, just to check how firmly I’d implanted them. They didn’t move, so I took the rope back from Hansa. I used a pair of shears I’d gotten from the same supply store to cut it in half, and looped each rope middle through the bolts’ eyes. I tugged and pulled in different directions, but the bolts didn’t budge.

  “Nice!” Hansa grinned. “I should take you out more often. You definitely come in handy!”

  We both laughed lightly, then prepared our descent. The base of the eastern wall was about three hundred feet below, and held a small strip of sandy beach, closed off from both north and south by giant boulders. It was private and secluded, and the water seemed deep even by the shore.

  With the bol
ts firmly anchored into the stone, I held both sides of my rope together, pulling them through my legs, around my hip, then over my right shoulder, around the back of my neck, and down my left arm. I watched Hansa as she carefully mirrored my movements with her rope segment, then nodded at me. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders tense. I had to take a wild guess and assume she’d never done this before.

  “Not used to rock climbing?” I asked, giving her an understanding half-smile.

  “I’m not good with heights, in general,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. “In fact, I think I can share a little secret with you. Remember the accounts of our battle on Luceria’s platform?”

  “Yeah, you cut off Goren’s head and kicked Azazel’s ass six ways from Sunday. Of course, I remember.” I chuckled, as that war was already being beautifully chronicled in Eritopia’s historical records.

  “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I was scared out of my mind the whole time I was up there.” She sighed. “I wasn’t scared of Destroyers or Azazel. I was terrified I’d fall over the edge. Trust me, I am not good with heights…”

  Not that it made her any less fearsome, but it was nice to see Hansa in a different, slightly more vulnerable light. She didn’t need me to comfort her on the issue, so I simply winked.

  “Meh, it’s fine. You’ve got the rope all looped up, so just follow my lead and we’ll get down there in no time,” I replied.

  With our feet apart, we walked backward off the edge and started rappelling down the rocky wall. I could hear Hansa’s gasps and the swish of rope friction against our leather combat suits. As a vampire, I could leap this distance with her on my back if I had to—but now that I knew she was afraid of heights, it was a good thing I hadn’t suggested that.

  “Gravity’s doing most of the work,” she croaked as we both let the ropes slip through our gloved hands in short sequences, until our boots sank into the soft sand at the bottom.

  We had made it down smoothly, but I could still hear Hansa let out a sigh of relief. We then looked around and noticed some aspects of this side of the mountain base which had not been visible from above.