The building Hearn leads us to is smaller than most. There are more lights visible in its windows, the light blue like the magical lamps in Tenorsbridge had. There can't be that much to burn down here, so it makes sense they don't use torches. I'm not sure if jonungaard can see in the dark. Probably they can, at least better than us. When Hearn looks past me to the light, his eyes flash bright, like a cat's eyes might.

"We keep to the same buildings, leaving the rest empty. It doesn't feel as lonely that way," Hearn says. He lifts a rug or a curtain that hangs before the door to let us pass, waving his hand inside.

"What happened here?" Rworg asks. "Disease? Attack? Where are the people?"

Hearn glances up at the ceiling and the rippling blue light there. "The gloom happened. We live in the dark, the crops on our farms crawl out of the ground over multiple years. We're growing old and having fewer children, but we have been able to feed the people so far," he says with a sad smile. Then, his smile fades and his brows knit together. "At least I hope that is still true. We will learn, soon."

I take a final look at the lake before going in. Can it be ambrosia? That would explain the glow. The area around the lake is composed of just fields. Wheat, mushrooms, and other plants with big, dark green leaves grow in neat rows.

Hearn sees me look and nods at the fields. "That is where we get most of our food. Only place with enough light to grow anything. Every couple of years, we send a group to harvest some of the farms further out. They stay for a couple of more years and come back with what they can carry."

I duck under the curtain and step into the building. "And while they are gone, they aren't eating?" I ask.

Hearn steps inside and lets the curtain fall. He nods solemnly. "And they come back almost as young as they left."

There's an obvious question that no one is asking, so I do. "Why don't you all leave? Go somewhere where time acts more normal?"

Finna, Rworg and Hearn all stop. Finna rolls her eyes. Rworg looks at me with a sad expression. I realize he has left and perhaps can never return, unless he lives to be an old man.

Hearn chuckles, his expression similar to Rworg's. "That is a justified question we have debated for decades. Centuries ago, a group of people decided to leave. They returned fifteen years ago, after not finding a way out. You being here now might mean that the next try might fare better."

I swallow. We're talking and standing in the entrance hall of the building. Blue lights shine a steady light everywhere, making Hearn's skin shine even brighter white than usual. Stairs lead up further into the building. The building reminds me more and more of the Ride Hall in Tenorsbridge. I hope the layout will make more sense, though. The way the rooms were laid out in Tenorsbridge was just dumb.

"Ah. I see," I finally say. Thoughts whiz through my head. The whitelings might have been some group of lost jonungaard, wandering the caverns for who knows how long. Maybe they went even deeper, spent hundreds of years in some dark pit, and went feral? Or maybe they crawled up from the past, deep in some slowly moving past, a throwback to the jonungaard before they learned to talk? Could that be? There's no way to know, and it's not like I'm going to ask.

"You don't just leave your home, dummy," Finna says, slapping me on the back of the head.

How come? I think the village has been moved at least twice by Ral. Maybe it's different for city people, with their big buildings. I rub the back of my head while looking around, but Hearn hurries before us, pushing open another rug.

"Please, come. I saw some dark windows on the higher floors. You can rest while I inform the elders. I can't stay still before I see my family." His sheepish grin is infectious.

I walk faster just to let him leave as soon as possible. Rworg smiles and hums something.

"You're off-key. Stop," Finna says, but she looks relaxed, easy. She sees me watching her as we walk, following Hearn. "What?"

"Are you feeling fine? No more headache?" I ask.

She shakes her head, smiling a rare smile without holding back. "Yeah, it's pretty nice. You think it's because of the time stuff?"

I nod. That has to be the reason. Time is running so fast here that the mana outside can't get thick enough. That's good news for us. Rworg won't kick down doors, and Finna's head won't split in half.

Stolen novel; please report.

A lamp flickers, the blue light dimming and almost going out. The lamp is just a square box built into the wall, with holes in its sides, where the light shines out of. Hearn frowns and puts his fingers on top of the lamp, touching the runes engraved into the square's surface. The light starts to shine more brightly, illuminating the room again with a blue light.

"This is part of the troubles we have been having. The lights should stay on just with ambient mana. Now, we have to keep lighting them every once in a while," Hearn says.

"You can all channel?" Finna asks. Her face is alert as she leans toward Hearn.

"No, not all. Most learn eventually. It's a useful skill, down here."

"Do you know how to cast spells? Do you know runes?" I ask. If Lictor spoke the truth, then knowing runes should be dangerous here, but I guess mana being this thin down here would negate that problem.

"Only a few do," Hearn says. "I'll be taking you to meet our shaman later. She does."

Hearn leads us into a room and excuses himself. By that point, he's almost vibrating and throwing glances out the door and the windows. Rworg pushes him out of the room, one arm on the old man's shoulder, the other holding the rug aside to let him pass.

The moment the rug falls to cover the doorway, Finna flops on one of the beds. "Finally! It feels like I haven't slept in days."

That's actually true for her. Before she was frozen in time, we had barely escaped the swamp. They had a moment to rest while we were watching the Kertharian camp with Mandollel, but other than that, it's been a good while. At least we got to sleep for one night with Rworg and to eat a couple of proper meals.

"How do you feel?" I ask. "Otherwise, I mean. You did sort of come back from the dead."

Finna has her eyes closed. She's lying on her back on the bed and kicks at her boots, trying to get them off her feet. "I'm great. Now that my head doesn't hurt anymore."

Well, that's nice to hear. She sounds like she's half asleep already. Shouldn't we talk more about everything that has happened? We've stopped a war. Lost Mandollel. Brought someone back from the dead!

Rworg pulls off his boots and lies down on the bed, making a contented sigh. "Nice," he says, closing his eyes.

"You can just go to sleep? After everything that has happened?" I ask.

"It would have been nice to get some food first," Rworg says. "Alas, time for that will come."

"But..."

"Stop pestering us, Big Foot!" Finna shouts, pressing her eyes closed even tighter.

Rworg opens an eye and peers at me, standing in the middle of the room. "Folke, we are safe for a moment, but only for a moment. Take every opportunity to sleep or eat. We will discuss, after."

I'm in a lost city below the ground, bathed in blue light reflecting from the white skins of the jonungaard. Like I'm going to be able to sleep a wink.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Finna says.

"Whut?" I mumble.

"The jonungaard have come. We will meet the shaman over a feast," Rworg says, rubbing his hands together. "I love a good feast."

"I bet it's going to be just mushrooms and green goo," Finna says.

I wipe my face with my arms, trying to clear my eyes and the drool from my chin. "Green goo?"

"Finna believes there will be green goo. I do not know why," Rworg says. He reaches a hand out and pulls me to my feet.

I rotate my head and stretch my neck. I fell asleep wearing most of my gear. At least I got my boots off before lying on the bed.

"They live underground. What grows underground? Mushrooms and mold," Finna says. "And mushrooms only if we're lucky."

"We did see fields when coming here," I say, pulling my boots back onto my feet. "The light from the lake must be enough to grow things."

A wooden clack sounds from the doorway. Rworg grunts in response, and Hearn pushes the rug to the side to peek in. "Ah, you're dressed. Good, good."

"They make you do all the running around?" Finna asks.

Hearn chuckles. "I volunteered to be your guide. Do not worry on my behalf."

Finna shrugs. Rworg might rush into dangerous situations, but it seems she does the same with social ones. I feel sudden sympathy towards Mandollel. If I were centuries old and had to watch over us, I would have snapped much earlier than before getting infected by the Kertharian chant.

It's funny, but it's not. I pull on my jacket and glance at my bow. It feels odd to leave it behind after a solid week of not parting from it for a moment. Maybe there's something to feeling safe for a moment.

Dozens of white faces watch us, their eyes red and glinting yellow when they catch the light. I sit cross-legged on a thin cushion. It's made from old leather, worn shiny. I wonder where they get their leather from. I haven't seen any animals yet. Rworg and Finna sit to my left and right. Hearn sits next to Rworg. The jonungaard shaman leans closer, her white face yellow in the firelight. She's younger than Hearn, perhaps a bit older than Rworg. Her hair falls in two thick braids, as white as the rest of her.

There's a real fire between us. Not large, actually rather modest for the size of the gathering, but it's being treated like a specialty. A young jonungaard feeds it with wood, keeping the fire steady. A metal grill hangs above the fire, almost licked by it. Rworg licks his lips as he watches the fire and the grill.

"Visitors, you come to us after centuries of solitude," the shaman says. She's speaking to the crowd as much as to us, the words formal and her voice loud. "Welcome to Jonun. We offer our hospitality, even if we have less to offer than would be proper."

Rworg bows. He holds his fists on his knees and bends from the waist, like I saw him do back in Tenorsbridge, such a long time ago. "Respected host, we are grateful for the welcome into your home. Forgive us, for we cannot pay back your kindness with a gift of our own."

A smile plays on her lips as she leans closer. "We do not expect gifts from guests. They are rare enough as it is." The edges of her eyes are crinkled, but the amusement falls away, replaced by a serious expression as she keeps talking. "Besides, from what Hearn told me, you can still pay Jonun back many times over. I'm not lying about having little to offer. We're living on borrowed time."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.