The Sundered Sky
THE SUNKEN PATH
Davin caught her before she hit the ground.
“Easy,” he said. “Easy. You’re safe.”
“He’s not dead.”
“The Inquisitor?”
“The Sundered King. He’s not dead. He’s not even here. He’s still sleeping. Still dreaming. Still waiting.”
“But you hurt him. You hurt his servant. That’s something.”
Lyra shook her head.
“It’s not enough.”
Morwen knelt beside her.
“No. It is not enough. But it is a beginning. And beginnings are rare things. We must cherish them.”
She helped Lyra to her feet.
“The Spire is close. We can reach it by morning. But we cannot go through the city. The shadows are too thick. The Inquisitor’s hunters are too many.”
“Then how?”
Morwen pointed to the ground.
“Beneath us. There is a tunnel. The Sunken Path. It was built by the Choristers in case the Spire ever fell. It leads directly to the tower’s foundations.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Because I helped build it. A hundred years ago, when I was young.”
Lyra stared at her.
“You’re older than I thought.”
“I am older than everyone thought.”
Morwen walked to the back of the temple, to a spot where the floor had cracked and crumbled. She knelt, pressed her hand against the stones, and sang.
The stones moved.
A staircase appeared, spiraling down into darkness.
“The Sunken Path,” Morwen said. “It will take us where we need to go. But it is not safe. The shadows have found their way in. The Inquisitor’s hunters have been waiting for us.”
“Then we fight,” Davin said.
“Then we sing,” Morwen corrected.
The tunnel was narrow and dark, the walls slick with moisture, the air thick with the smell of old earth and older death.
Lyra walked in the middle, the stone in her hand lighting the way. Morwen led, her staff tapping against the stone floor. Davin brought up the rear, his sword drawn, his eyes scanning the darkness behind them.
They walked for hours.
The tunnel sloped downward, winding through the earth, passing through chambers that had been carved by the Choristers centuries ago. Lyra saw rooms filled with ancient books. Rooms filled with bones. Rooms filled with nothing but silence and dust.
“The Choristers used this path to escape the Sundering,” Morwen said. “When the gods woke, when the shadows fell, they fled through these tunnels. Some of them made it. Most did not.”
“What happened to the ones who didn’t?”
Morwen did not answer.
They walked in silence.