A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(18)

“If they were the only ones who knew this language, and they were obviously going extinct, why write it all down in a code that would die with them?” I asked.

“Don’t expect much sense out of the swamp witches,” Draven sighed. “They were brilliant but never easy to work with. It seems like even beyond the grave they’re still experts at making everything unnecessarily difficult.”

“What do we do now?” Phoenix asked, his brow furrowed.

The Daughter seemed pensive as she slowly moved closer to the book, one step at a time.

“Unfortunately, we have no swamp witch translators lying around,” Draven replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “We’re stuck with a book that we cannot decipher and the spell that we need somewhere in it.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way to get to Mount Zur, then?” I started going over options.

“Not unless you want to get captured, tortured, and killed along the way,” Hansa said. “It’s a very long way from here, and the closer you get to the castle the more spies and traitors roam the dark woods. It’s nearly impossible to get there in one piece, given how paranoid Azazel’s gotten over the past few decades.”

“Why can’t the Dearghs from Mount Zur help with getting Sverik out?” I asked, aware that it sounded like a long shot.

“A massive stone giant can’t infiltrate Azazel’s dungeons without getting noticed,” Draven answered. “I’m not even sure they would fit through those corridors. You’ve seen them yourself. They’re gigantic.”

It made sense. Based on Aida’s descriptions, the dungeons were relatively small, with narrow corridors and not enough room for a Deargh the size of a plane to move around and pluck Sverik out of captivity.

The Daughter stood next to Draven, her fingers running over the first line of writing on the first page. She read aloud: “To the one reading this, you are most fortunate. The swamp witches bestow this gift upon you.”

“You can read this?” Draven asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She nodded and looked at the text.

“For this is the knowledge of the Aelias, the all-powerful mistresses of dark waters, the coven of witches blessed by the Daughters of Eritopia.”

A wave of relief washed over the room.

The Daughter looked up at us, slightly confused.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I could read this. I don’t know how I can, to be honest,” she said.

“There is no need to apologize,” Draven replied with a brilliant smile. “You couldn’t have known. The important thing is that you can!”

“Can you read it all?” I asked.

She looked through the book, pursing her lips and squinting, then nodded.

“Yes. It will take a little while. There’s a lot of text here. But they look like instructions with clear measures and diagrams.”

“Like a manual,” I added.

“Indeed. These are all spells, for sure, and they all seem to have spoken formulas, invoking the power of the word,” the Daughter explained, glancing over snippets of texts.

Hansa cocked her head, as if analyzing the Daughter. “I wonder,” she mumbled, then spoke in a different language.

I didn’t understand it.

The Daughter looked up.

“The answer is violet,” she replied.

Hansa nodded, then looked at Draven and me.

“I spoke in my tribe’s code. Only my sisters and I know it. Yet the Daughter understands it perfectly. I asked her a simple question about the color of her eyes, and she answered.”

“So, she understands an ancient succubi tongue as well,” I concluded.

All eyes were on the Daughter, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by the attention. Phoenix swiftly joined her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. I watched her relax under his touch.

“She’s a Daughter of Eritopia,” Draven reasoned. “She most likely understands every word of every language, every code ever invented in this world.”

“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Hansa replied.

“Indeed, it does.” He nodded, then looked at the Daughter. “Would you be so kind as to help us translate this book? The sooner we find the spell we need, the quicker we can rescue Sverik and make progress against Azazel.”

The Daughter took the large compendium in her arms, smiled at Draven, then headed for the door.

“Phoenix, she can use one of the study rooms upstairs,” I said to my brother as he joined the Daughter on her way out.

He waved in response, without turning his head.

We all sat down. A collective sigh of relief fell over us as we finished our meals.

“We’re one step closer to getting Sverik out of there.” Draven looked at me and smiled.

His hand covered mine on the table, his grip tightening gently, enough to send sparks up my arm and fill me with his familiar warmth.





Phoenix





We’d been at it for hours. Midnight had come and gone as the Daughter and I worked on translating the swamp witches’ book. She read passages out loud, and I took notes, using old pencils and several journals I’d found in one of the drawers.

A few candles gave enough light for our eyes to handle the reading and writing process without struggling. Owls hooted outside. A giant moon spared a few milky white rays for the study room.