The journey is long and tedious. None of them sleep. They barely talk beyond low murmurings. Oliver stays busy, keeping watch, scouting ahead, rationing supplies, organising his men, making shaky plans for when they reach their next destination. Only the tantalising promise of the cure keeps them from giving up on this gruelling path.
Oliver finds he needs to keep busy to ignore the way his heart throbs every time he steals a glance at Alicia, trying to be discreet. She's always watching him and always catches him, her eyes green in the shadows.
He doesn't speak to her. He can't seem to talk when he's near her, holding back the words he really wants to speak. Why won't you ever trust me the way I trust you? He knows that conversation will only hurt more so he's not willing to bring it up.
Oliver won't force her to speak about things she doesn't want to. He has no right to demand that of her and some nights he lays awake wondering if he's being unreasonable feeling this dejected. Then he stops trying to puzzle out his feelings because there's no sense to them.
There are moments when the hurt becomes so intense that he nearly goes to her, nearly pulls her into his embrace to accept the pieces of herself she'll allow him to love. Then he remembers the heart-wrenching times she's pushed him away and refuses to subject himself to such pain when more pressing things demand his attention.
He's feeding a horse, whispering words of encouragement to the tired animal, when he hears a cough. It begins muffled, like the person is trying to hide it, then it worsens until the person is wheezing. He turns and Alicia has her mouth buried in the crease of her elbow, trying to slow her coughing fit.
He's by her side in the next moment, pressing a flask of water to her lips as he cradles the back of her neck. She looks at him, her eyes watering, but she drinks, regaining her breath. Then she pushes him away, a crease forming between her brows.
"It's best if you don't come near me," she says, taking a shaky breath and peering into his eyes.
Oliver stares at her for a long moment, the last thing on his mind is being away from her. But he nods and does as she requests.
The journey is long and tedious, and it only worsens with each moment that passes.
Through the early morning mist rises stone structures like creatures clawing their way out of their graves. The clearing is silent, even the animals that have scurried across their entourage won't follow them here.
An uneasy feeling assaults Oliver, one he can't seem to shake even after he checks that his revolver is fully loaded.
Kreenik stalks forward, seeming to know exactly where to go even amongst the thick mist shrouding the landscape. The creature's head turns like it's on a swivel and it lurches towards a cluster of stone. More Ghuls follow to begin clearing crumbled rock.
Oliver turns, searching through his people for one head in particular. He finds her swaddled in furs, slumped in the back of a cart, but her eyes are bright and aware, taking in the activities of the Ghuls.
Something in him settles a little upon seeing Alicia, like she's the balm to an open wound. The fact that his nerves are so reliant on her presence to not be so frayed frustrates him, but he can't deny that knowing Alicia is near eases a restless part of him that simply wants to fight the world.
She's safe and he can take comfort in that. For now.
"The way is open!" someone ahead calls and Oliver closes his eyes for a brief moment, aware that this is the moment that will change Muovea forever, for better or worse. They'll find the cure, take it back to the capital, hope that Yeong is able to cure them of their immunity, and leave their fate in magic.
He'd say the world's gone mad if he hadn't already established that years ago when he first mistakingly stumbled into that tomb with Alicia by his side.
Jumping down from the horse, Oliver's boots splash in the slush of melted snow. He draws in a breath, rights his waistcoat, and brushes his fingers against the handle of his revolver under his arm.
His men join him in appraoching the opening to the ruin, curiosity urging them forward, each of them with hope in their eyes. They all want to go home, Oliver is starting to want that too now that he's begun to realise the toll demanded of him and Alicia for being out here.
The stone closes around him like a cold embrace, something malicious crawling along his skin like it once did within the tomb of the Ghuls. A lantern is lit, bathing the damp stone in a golden glow. The corridor he's in is wider than he expected, allowing for at least four people to walk side by side. The ceiling is high, bracketed by arches that stabalise the tunnel that leads beneath the earth. Ahead of him he sees the Ghuls marching forward, all of them descending into the gloom of the tunnel.
Oliver's stomach begins to twist when he realises Sam is among them.
Alicia's shoulder brushes against his and her light touch settles his nerves again as he looks down at her. She meets his gaze, her eyes near golden in the light of the oil lamps that pass around them as more of the Ghuls trickle into the tunnel. "Lena has sorted everything."
His gaze lingers on hers before he looks forward again. "Am I allowed to ask?"
"No," she murmurs and wraps her arm around his, the first contact she's freely given him in the last few days of travelling. "Help me walk. I'm not brave enough to take the stairs alone."
A sad sort of smile twists his lips, but he does as she requests, settling his hand over her gloved one in the crease of his elbow. "How are you feeling besides the leg?"
"Better now that it's stopped raining for the past couple of days. I feel like I'm trying to breathe through water most of the time."
Oliver swallows, the hurt in his heart beginning again with renewed vigor. Alicia is strong, stronger than most, but he's seen men twice her size die from the Ruga flu.
Focusing on helping her down the stone steps, he tries to push from his mind thoughts of her sickness. It's an easy thing when he raises his gaze once they've reached the bottom to witness the full army of the Ghuls gathered in a crumbling but still magnificent vestibule. Light from the land above pierces through some of the cracks in the stone, roots from the trees attempting to break this place apart and claim it as nature once again.
Ahead is a large set of double doors that the Ghuls shove open, filling the cavernous space with an abrasive grinding. Sam stands with them, holding a flame while shifting from foot to foot.
Alicia and Oliver walk forward. He takes the chance to study the creatures again, his lips pressed together.
"Have you noticed the scars on their chests?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
"I have," she replies. "All of them have it."
"Right over their heart," Oliver continues. "Like it's been cut out."
Alicia looks at him, her lips parting. "You think the Faceless Queen cut their hearts out?"
"Maybe."
Blowing out a breath, Alicia shudders, something he feels with how she presses herself to his side. "They're undying. Why would they need one? We don't understand the magic she used, but we know it was horrid."
Oliver swallows and he settles his gaze back on those now open doors, revealing nothing but a thick darkness beyond.
Theories are all they're relying on and he's tired of having no facts. He doesn't know how to fit the pieces together and he doesn't know if he wants to. The only thing he's certain of is that none of them can completely trust the Ghuls.
They reach the others and Sam glances at him, her black eyes bright, sweat glistening on her skin.
"So close," she says, flashing her teeth at him in what he thinks might be a smile, but it's more of a grimace. Then she walks forward.
"Sam, wait—" Oliver says, breaking away from Alicia, but the girl has already passed through the door.
There's a click and then a groan starts, like a beast waking from its slumber. The Ghuls are faster than Oliver and they leap for Sam before he can, surrounding her like a shield. Large spikes slice through the air, impaling the Ghuls that surround Sam.
She turns, eyes wide, the flame dropped at her feet. The spikes retract, causing the Ghuls to stumble as they retreat from their bodies.
"Traps," Kreenik helpfully offers as the creature approaches.
"Thank you for the warning," Sam spits at him, bending to pick up her flame and turn to face the darkness again. "Now what?"
"We must endure." Kreenik lifts a hand, gnarled finger pointing into the ink-like blackness. "The cure is within."
"Let's get it over with then," Sam says with a wave of her hand and her Ghuls begin to move.
Oliver watches all of this with the crease between his brows deepening. "Sam, are you insane? You can't go in there."
"The Ghuls will shield me," she tells him without meeting his eye before she jumps onto Kreenik's back. "They're resilient."
He can see that by the way those Ghuls that were impaled simply gather around her to continue to protect her from what other traps might be waiting, but he can't let her walk into that chamber alone with only her Ghuls. "Let me come with you."
"We'll protect the princess," Kreenik informs him before they begin marching forward.
That doesn't sit well inside him. His gut churns and the short hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The creature called Sam the princess. Yet all they've been doing up until this point is reminding them of their willingness to follow the queen.
If Sam isn't the queen they follow, then who is?