up for the rest of the journey to the Abyss. The morning dawns cloudy, thunder echoing across the sky as we ride up and up. The path never falters on its climb, leading us through the craggy range of low mountains that border the jungle.
I’m alone with my thoughts as a drizzle sets in. Gareth wraps me in a thin leather cloak, the hood keeping the rain off my hair. But soon, it pours, the curtains of water so heavy that it seems as if night has come early.
We continue our trek even as lightning splits the sky. The road is well-worn, and even some muddy streams aren’t enough to make it impassable. How many slaves have passed through here? Loaded up in wagons like chattel, their futures bought and sold in Cranthum, and their death in the mines within their sights. I shiver.
Gareth holds me tighter. He’s soaked through, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Neither do any of the other fighters. Only Parnon, who no longer drives the wagon but, instead, is safely wrapped up in a leather bag beneath the canopy.
The downpour is so thick that it creates a deep hum of noise. Maybe that’s a good thing. It staves off the talk that Gareth and I need to have. One I don’t want to have. We could mate right now, just throw ourselves down in the muck and go at it, but no. We can’t. Not when that means abandoning Clotty. So we’re back in this circular fight that always ends the same—with me utterly unsatisfied and so cock-hungry that I sometimes think about giving in, Clotty be damned.
I groan, but the din of the rain covers it.
We keep travelling until well past lunch. The storm continues its fury, so we eat rations as we ride. No fire could survive this deluge anyway.
I can barely make out the closest craggy bit of rock, the dull gray of it melding with the rain. Did Clotty see this? I hope so. Because that means she was alive when she came through here. Gareth’s words still bounce around in my mind. Maybe he’s right. Maybe she’s dead. But I can’t take that chance. I have to see it for myself. And if she’s gone? I tamp down the emotions that threaten to bubble up. Well, I’ll deal with that when it comes.
The scenery doesn’t change as the storm finally subsides just enough for a bit of light to shine through the dark clouds. Good thing, too. Because I pull on the reins and stop Iridiel before he runs right into another unicorn ahead of us.
“What is it?” Gareth’s tone is clipped as he addresses the rider ahead of us. “Why did you stop?”
I look up, the lightening sky giving me a view that steals my breath. “Is that … That’s the …”
“Abyss.” Chastain rides up beside us and stares out at … nothing. A hole in the ground that stretches as far as I can see. There are no other sides to it, no respite from the vast emptiness of this crater that seems to fall away to the core of Arin. We are standing on the precipice, a sheer cliff face disappearing into darkness beneath us.
“How is this even possible?” I can’t seem to understand the enormity of it, the emptiness that doesn’t seem remotely imaginable.
“No one truly knows. Maybe it has been here since Arin was created. Or perhaps the tale of the wicked mage is true and it was formed by the darkest of magics mixed with alchemy.” Chastain seems almost as awestruck as I am. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. We have to cross it.”
“How?” I mean, it’s a giant hole in Arin. No way down that I can see. No way in or out, or even an end to it. How do the caravans get the slaves through this pit?
Chastain points to the right. “The road runs along the rim for another hour or so. Then we’ll arrive at the caravan entrance.”
“Guarded?” Gareth doesn’t seem too concerned about the gaping, black, terrifying void, but then again, he’s a stoic sort of fae. Or maybe he’s still mad? This is when that bond sure would come in handy. I could check on him. “Knock knock, you pissed?”
“Usually, yes. And if Cenet came through here, he’s no doubt put them on high alert.”
“Zatran was just to slow us down,” Gareth says.
“Oh, I’m certain Zatran thought he’d kill us with ease, but Cenet strikes me as