Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross

Author:Rebecca Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

{31}

Gravity in a Different World

Roman followed Val through the under realm’s passages.

They walked routes that led downward, as if they were descending into yet another world below. One that was darker and older. When they reached a door carved with runes, Val brought out a key, hung from a chain around his neck. Another one of the five magical keys, Roman thought, watching as the door unlocked.

They continued onward. The air felt heavy and thick, almost reverent, and soon carried hints of sulfur and rotting flesh.

Roman reached out to steady himself on the wall and felt briars growing along the stone. He swallowed his gorge and wondered if Dacre’s permission had all been a ruse, and Val was taking Roman levels below to dispatch him.

Was it sweeter to kill someone after you had given them hope?

Roman shivered as the thorny passage at last opened to a wide, vast landscape. Yellow, gurgling pools emitted light from the stone floor, as well as releasing wisps of steam, and the ceiling was so high it was impossible to see. It almost felt as if Roman was standing beneath the night sky culled of stars, and he stared upward into those shadows, feeling small and homesick.

“Watch where you step,” Val said as he began to weave around the yellow pools, stirring the steam with his long strides and the flap of his cloak.

Roman hurried to keep up. The putridness of the air finally coaxed him to cough into his sleeve. He began to breathe through his mouth, his stomach churning with fear and nausea.

He wanted clean air. A cup of scalding hot coffee. Something to smooth away the discomfort in his chest and throat.

“No sudden movements,” Val said, his pace slowing.

“All right.” Roman stifled another cough.

Half a minute later, he understood why. Through the curls of sulfurous steam, a huge shadow of a wyvern loomed on the ground, as if waiting for them. An eithral, Roman realized with a sharp intake of breath. Its pronged wings were outstretched and soaking in the heat from the pools, its white-scaled body shining with iridescence. Its maw was closed, but long, needlelike teeth still protruded and gleamed like ice, and its uncanny red eyes were the size of Roman’s palm, one of them fixed upon him and his abrupt halt.

“Keep walking,” Val said in a low voice. “Slow and steady. Follow my approach to its left side.”

Approach? Roman wanted to protest, but he did as Val instructed. He eased into a walk and kept to Val’s shadow, and that was when he saw the saddle buckled to the eithral, nestled on its horn-ridged back between its wings.

“Are you bloody serious?” Roman said, his teeth clicking together as a shudder rippled through him. “How will you control it? There’s no bridle.”

Val began to haul himself up into the saddle with practiced ease. “Do you want to walk to Oath, or do you want to fly?”

A protest melted on Roman’s tongue. He didn’t know if he had the strength to pull himself up, to sit on the back of the very creature that had played a part in his wounds.

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