The Mournful King

XXII. The Hardest Thing

They followed the wight through yawning caves and ruinous buildings, each one a memory of an old life left long forgotten. The specters that bound or devoured souls were nowhere to be seen, apparently frightened off by Andraste's sorcery or their guide. The creature answered questions in hushed tones, though it did not speak often. Most of the time, it just looked at them with ravenous eyes.

The closer they came to the passageway leading up and out of the darkness, the more Silent could see cracks forming in Andraste's composure. Suddenly, his friend didn't seem alright. She walked with her gaze fixed forward, but she seemed paler than usual. It worried him. He wasn't the only one, judging by the way Ekundayo was glancing back over his shoulder.

"We should rest before going up into the city," Lieren said. "I don't recommend us going into a battle like what's waiting for us at anything less than full strength."

"Agreed," Ekundayo said. He looked at the wight with the apprehension of a man handling a venomous snake. "Is there a place we can rest, creature? It will need to be secure from the specters."

"Yes," the wight said. "There is a temple. They do not tread hallowed ground."

"Is it full of dead people too?" Dain asked.

The wight shook its head. "It cleared the temple out. It is a place of...echoes of better times."

The Silent nodded his approval. If it was protected from the specters, it would be a chance to talk to Andraste in some semblance of private without the immediate risk of death. He looked over at the sorceress.

"That should work," she said quietly. She nodded her head to the creature. "Thank you for allowing us to stay there."

The wight shrugged and then continued leading the way, deviating slightly from their original course.

To call the edifice they approached a temple was to be generous. It was a ruin, albeit a stable one. Half of the roof had caved in under the weight of falling stone, but the other half showed only superficial damage. Phosphorescent fungi grew at various places on the walls, where the damp had run down, casting a ghostly blue light.The reflecting pool in the courtyard was brackish, like all the other water they had found near Zaeylael. The paving stones were universally chipped and cracked, chunks of other fallen stone laying where they had shattered. They picked their way through the rubble, passing the occasional skeleton on the outside. Once they were inside, however, the air of gloom and death was less oppressive. There were no bodies. Something had made a nest near some of the neglected shrines, though an effort had been made to clean them. If the Silent had to guess, that was where their wight slept.

Lieren wove a few lights in the remaining sconces, tugging the invisible threads of the world into knots that would stay even if she removed her concentration from the effects. "That should hold for a good eight hours and I expect it will ward off any specters that get too curious," Lieren said. "I imagine we'll still want to take watch."

Immediately, Andraste took off her armor. The Silent knew why. It was a recipe for a half-rest, for exhaustion, to sleep in it. Dain and Ekundayo were being much more cautious with the wight around, but the Silent followed her lead. His leather archer's armor, worn as it was, was easily shed. He would have helped Andraste, but she had no difficulty undoing the buckles herself.

"I need some time," Andraste said quietly as she dropped her bedroll along with her last piece of armor. It and a day of rations was all she'd brought with her in the way of gear aside from her weapons and armor. She didn't wait for an answer before heading into the darkness, back towards the main door. She left the firelight, but the Silent doubted she would leave the temple. Whatever she was feeling, Andraste wasn't a fool.