Page 45 of The Savage Vow
“You’re thinking too much,” Makhel muttered.
“I’m thinking like I should be,” Nargol countered. She paused and stood in the temple. “What we are looking for just isn’t a piece of parchment. It is sacred. A part of our history.”
“The future of Aghon is scared as well. We must protect it. If Grat and Hagu succeed, they’ll plunge us into a war. They don’t care about Nogora’s will. They only care about the power they want.”
Nargol clenched her jaw. Makhel was right. Orcs were already plotting to tear down the Nidani clan in order to discard centuries of balance in favor of brutality masquerading as tradition.
“This isn’t about replacing one ruler with another,” Nargol said. “It’s about preserving what Nogora blessed us with.”
They reached the entrance. The wide archway was half collapsed, teeth of stone jutting downward like a skull frozen in mid-snarl. Cold air rushed out from within. It carried the scent of earth and history.
Nargol crossed the threshold, and a shiver immediately overtook her. She felt watched. Not with malice, but with curiosity.
The spirits of the ancestors lingered here. She could feel them brushing against her awareness. They whispered in a language that was long forgotten. Even with Nargol’s knowledge of multiple languages, it wasn’t any of the ones she knew. Goosebumps rose on her arms as they moved deeper inside.
The interior opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling was lost in the shadows. Pillars carved with scenes of battles and harvest lined the walls. Many of them were cracked or toppled yet still imposed the messages they wanted to be received. Roots snuck through the broken stone of the floor.
At the far end of the chamber stood an altar.
Nogora’s sigil was carved into the wall behind it. A fanged skull encircled by wheat, worn smooth by countless hands that had lain upon it in devotion. The sight stole Nargol’s breath away.
She dropped to one knee without conscious thought, unable to take her eyes off the symbolism of Nogora. Makhel followed beside her. Silence enveloped them. Nargol bowed her head and closed her eyes. She breathed deep, and even though it was only she and Makhel in the chamber, she felt the eyes of the others watching.
“Nogora,” she whispered. She tried to will her racing heart to slow. “Mother of strength. Guardian of our people.”
She wasted no time in calling on the goddess. Her voice echoed softly while being swallowed by the stone walls that surrounded them.
“We come not as thieves but as your servants,” she continued. Her heart thudded even harder. “Orcs plot against everything you sacrificed yourself for. They twist your name to justify cruelty and division. What you blessed us with, they want to take away.”
She pressed her fist to her chest.
“I ask for forgiveness for what I must do. Guide me if I am worthy. Turn me away if I am not.” It was a risk she was taking. If she was not deemed worthy to be here, then they would have failed at their mission to obtain the artifact.
For a long while, neither of them moved. The silence became overwhelming. Nargol kept her eyes closed and waited for an answer from the goddess.
A warmth brushed her shoulder.
Nargol sucked in a sharp breath as a presence filled her that was light and fierce. It was like standing beneath a storm-filled sky. A gentle breeze blew past her, so soft she would have sworn someone had caressed her face with their fingertips. Strengthsurged through her veins that was steady and sure. The fear that had weighed her down eased and soon dissipated.
“Did you feel that?” Makhel gasped.
“I did,” Nargol breathed.
Without hesitation, she rose. She scanned the chambers. Three doorways led deep beneath the surface of the earth. Without a thought, she angled for the far-left one. Makhel strolled behind her.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Makhel’s voice echoed behind her.
“I’m not sure.”
They slowly descended the stone stairwell. The air grew thick. The hairs on the back of Nargol’s neck stood erect. She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger. She was unsure what they would find below. The stairwell grew narrower and curved slightly. The arrived in a darkened hallway that was so long, she couldn’t see where it ended. Along the walls were sconces lit by small flames that never extinguished.
They paused.
“Now where?” Makhel came to stand by Nargol.
“Wherever the goddess will lead us,” Nargol murmured. She jerked her chin toward the never-ending hall. “Let’s go.”
“After you.” Makhel chuckled.
