The Key

by Marianne Curley

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One Rochelle

  Chapter Two Matt

  Chapter Three Rochelle

  Chapter Four Matt

  Chapter Five Rochelle

  Chapter Six Matt

  Chapter Seven Matt

  Chapter Eight Rochelle

  Chapter Nine Matt

  Chapter Ten Rochelle

  Chapter Eleven Matt

  Chapter Twelve Rochelle

  Chapter Thirteen Matt

  Chapter Fourteen Rochelle

  Chapter Fifteen Matt

  Chapter Sixteen Rochelle

  Chapter Seventeen Matt

  Chapter Eighteen Rochelle

  Chapter Nineteen Matt

  Chapter Twenty Rochelle

  Chapter Twenty-One Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Two Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Three Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Four Rochelle

  Chapter Twenty-Five Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Six Rochelle

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Matt

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Rochelle

  Chapter Thirty Matt

  Chapter Thirty-One Rochelle

  Chapter Thirty-Two Matt

  Chapter Thirty-Three Rochelle

  Chapter Thirty-Four Matt

  Chapter Thirty-Five Rochelle

  Chapter Thirty-Six Matt

  Chapter Thirty-Seven Rochelle

  Chapter Thirty-Eight Matt

  Chapter Thirty-Nine Rochelle

  Chapter Forty Matt

  Acknowledgements One

  Acknowledgements Two

  By the Same Author

  For my sister Therese, with love and admiration

  Before the world can be free

  A bloom of murdered innocence shall be seen

  In the woods above the ancient city of Veridian

  Where nine identities shall be revealed

  It will come to pass that a king shall rule

  But not before a leader pure of heart awakens

  And an ageless warrior with an ancient soul

  Shall guide with grace and providence

  Beware, nine shall see a traitor come and go

  From whence a long and bitter war will follow

  And the Named shall join in unity

  Yet suspicion will cause disharmony

  A jester shall protect, a doubter cast a shadow

  And a brave young warrior will lose his heart to death

  Yet none shall be victorious until a lost warrior returns

  And the fearless one emerges from a journey led by light and strength

  Take heed, two last warriors shall cause grief as much as good

  From the midst of suspicion one shall come forth

  The other seeded of evil

  Yet one shall be victorious while the other victorious in death

  Prologue

  They agree to meet in an abandoned monastery at the top of an ancient monolith of rock and cliff in Athos. Lathenia, known as the Goddess of Chaos since her quest for domination began, is first to arrive. She is accompanied by her loyal soldier Marduke and trusted magician Keziah. The rules are simple: bring no arms and only two allies. Instigated by Lorian, this meeting is for peace, for brother and sister to come to an agreement and stop the prophesied final battle from destroying life as it is known on the earth.

  The night is black. A blizzard roars through the gorges. Lorian appears at the foot of the monolith, trailed by Tribunal members Lord Penbarin and Lady Arabella, and a third figure.

  Swathed in thick warm cloaks the Immortal and his party trudge up the two hundred and seventy-two slippery steps of icy rock, one after another.

  Lord Penbarin steps hurriedly but carefully to catch up with Lorian. ‘I can’t help but suspect, my liege, that there is more to this meeting with your sister than you have allowed us to believe.’ His eyes shift purposefully to the third member of their party.

  Lorian halts. All three behind him stop and look up.

  ‘And you, Lord Penbarin, are far too cynical as usual.’

  Lord Penbarin scoffs, though gently, for he knows Lorian speaks the truth.

  As the wind drives the shifting snow even harder, Lorian’s eyes momentarily drift past Lord Penbarin’s shoulder to the third member of his party. He gives an acknowledging nod and a wry smile.

  ‘Will the meeting take long, my lord?’ Lady Arabella asks.

  Lorian’s gaze shifts sideways to the lady, and even while her face remains almost completely concealed beneath the shadow of her deep hood, the Immortal finds it difficult to drag his eyes from her. She lifts her head to meet his gaze and Lorian wonders for the millionth time in a thousand years how he has the strength to maintain his determination to remain genderless. He is tiring of the task; he has made many sacrifices for the sake of unbiased and unprejudiced rule.

  Finally they stand before the monastery door. Made of cypress wood, centuries of neglect have seen it reduce to a few dark and rotting boards. It creaks open. A flurry of servants, hired especially for the occasion, usher the esteemed party within. Once inside, warm air washes over them. Only Lorian, unaffected by either cold or heat, seems indifferent to the change.

  To their left a sweeping staircase of stone bricks raises their eyes to the upper level. It is there Lathenia stands watching. Lorian nods in her direction. Their minds meet and clash, and a rough greeting of sorts follows. She descends, her white gown trailing on the steps behind her, the purple sash at her waist defining her narrow figure, while long fingers slide elegantly down the banister railing.

  Behind her Marduke and Keziah keep a suitable distance. Their Mistress is the focus, the reason for this meeting. They are, after all, only her humble servants, as she is apt to remind them.

  ‘Brother,’ she says as she comes and stands before Lorian. ‘Or … being neither male nor female, is there another term by which I should call you?’ With these words she glances briefly at Lady Arabella, but the action is so swift and fleeting none in the room perceives it.

  Sounding irritated and slightly bored, Lorian lifts a hand in a brief dismissive gesture. ‘As you so obviously have difficulty grasping the concept of impartiality due to gender, you may refer to me in the masculine as I have allowed others to do for their own comfort.’

  ‘What a pity,’ she sniggers. ‘I could have enjoyed calling you … It.’

  Lorian stares deeply into her eyes. Lathenia is first to glance away, her gaze coming to rest first on Lord Penbarin and then briefly on Lady Arabella. Although it’s impossible not to notice her brother has brought a third party, she ignores the uninvited guest’s presence – for now. ‘It has been a while, my lord and lady.’

  ‘How unfortunate that we have to meet at all,’ Lord Penbarin says in a mocking tone.

  Lathenia’s shoulders lift, the only indication that the insult penetrated. Her face remains a stoic mask of indifference. She allows her gaze purposefully to single out her brother’s third supporter. As if commanded, the cloaked figure steps forward. Piercing blue eyes are the first things she notices. A shiver begins at the tip of her spine and slithers along every vertebrae as she inhales a sense of the importance of the man standing before her. A Tribunal member for sure. But not one she recognises. She pins her cold gaze on her brother, trying hard to conceal her surprise and interest, but fails.

  ‘We agreed on only two allies! Who is this intruder?’

  Lorian acknowledges his sister’s reaction, keeping his sense of gratification well hidden. It is exactly as he hoped. He motions the cloaked figure forward. ‘Allow me to introduce the former King Richard II of England.’ Lorian waits while his sister absorbs this much first. Then, ‘He is now the new King Richard … of Veridian.’ />
  She moves backwards. ‘Veridian has a king?’ A slender hand lifts to hover above her breastbone.

  Lorian doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. All those present understand that now Veridian has its King, the Tribunal will be complete, and the power of the Guard will be stronger than ever before.

  ‘My lady.’ King Richard bows deeply before the stricken goddess. ‘I am … intrigued to meet you. I look forward to further acquaintance.’

  Their eyes hold for indefinable seconds while Lathenia takes a moment to regather her thoughts. King Richard has affected her on many levels. Lorian gloats inwardly, while Marduke, fully aware of his Mistress’s sudden interest in this stranger, makes a snorting, grunting sound through nostrils that resemble a pig’s snout. Physically altered from his earlier experience in the middle realm, Marduke has fallen out of favour with Lathenia.

  The sound of Marduke’s displeasure is enough to jolt Lathenia’s senses, though it is with an effort that she drags her emotions away from sudden public scrutiny. She sighs, appearing disinterested. ‘We shall see, my lord.’ Abruptly she lifts her gaze and stalks off towards an open doorway, leaving behind a tense, suffocating atmosphere.

  The servants show the Tribunal members to a large room of stone bricks lit with hundreds of glowing candles. In the centre stands a table made entirely of crystal with seven matching stools brought here from Lathenia’s own palace especially for the occasion.

  Lorian notices the seven stools but says nothing. Surely she couldn’t have known about King Richard! But then nothing his sister does should surprise him now.

  All seven sit around the table, Lathenia and Lorian opposite each other. For a long moment there is silence and King Richard, being a recent addition to the Tribunal, wonders whether they are communicating without his knowledge, something he understands to be quite possible. He rather hopes they aren’t. It would be enormously arrogant on their part. After all, what else are the rest of them doing here if not bearing witness to these proceedings?

  Lorian glares in his direction. Instantly King Richard regrets his outspoken thoughts. But Lorian’s stare soon softens and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. ‘You are quite right, my lord.’

  King Richard grunts a soft acknowledgement, vowing to keep his thoughts under a tighter rein from now on. He still has much to learn.

  ‘What I was thinking,’ Lorian continues to address King Richard, ‘is what my parents would say if they were alive today.’

  ‘Bah!’ Lathenia waves a hand into the air. ‘While I was thinking how my brother has grown so melancholy lately. A sign of weakness I find amusing.’

  ‘The fact is, Lathenia, an immortal can only be killed by another immortal.’

  Lathenia’s silver eyes flash the colour of obsidian while her long fingers slam down on the table top. ‘Are you threatening me, brother?’

  Lorian appears amused at the dramatic leap his sister makes. Their parents loved and fought so fiercely that they ended by killing each other in a moment of inflamed passion. ‘You think I find the deaths of our parents amusing?’

  Lathenia remains silent, but something in her silence alerts Lorian’s senses. ‘What more do you know about our parents’ death than I?’

  ‘Nothing. You were there.’

  ‘Yes. I saw each holding a blade at the other’s throat. But while I walked in after the deed, you were there before me.’

  ‘I walked in only a second before you.’

  ‘A lot can happen in a second of immortal time,’ he says accusingly.

  Lathenia takes the defensive and quickly changes the subject. ‘Listen to you. When it is I who should be asking questions. Questions about our brother. You are more devious than you would have your supporters think.’ She stares at each of the Tribunal members in turn. ‘You don’t really know him. He’s not the honourable Lorian you trust. He murdered our own brother!’ She turns her gaze to Lorian. ‘Dartemis was no threat to you. I was the threat! So why did you destroy an innocent child?’

  Lorian recalls how Dartemis was never an ‘innocent child’, but the youngest and most powerful of the three siblings. He’d had to take his brother to another world for the boy’s own safety. A world where he remains very much alive today. A world where even his greedy sister cannot detect life. And it is there he will remain, continuing to harness his powers – a lord, a magician and much more.

  Lorian remembers the day he saw his brother working magic – such powerful and unusual magic. He knew then that with Dartemis’s talents at her fingertips, Lathenia would become too strong.

  But for now there are other matters more pressing – the resolution of this conflict, without war.

  Allowing this last thought to penetrate all minds in the room, everyone’s attention is quickly refocused. Lathenia scoffs at the thought. ‘What is happening to you? You are more melancholy than I thought. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have allowed yourself to fall in love.’

  Her words anger him. ‘I am not so foolish as to allow the very notion of love to interfere with my judgement!’

  A quiet descends, where Lathenia finds she has to struggle with the urge to look upon Lady Arabella’s face.

  Stirring emotions circle the room. Lady Arabella dares not lift her eyes and takes to scrutinising the ice-blue veins that reveal themselves beneath the pale skin of her hands, while Lord Penbarin stares across the table as if seeing his fellow Tribunal member for the first time.

  It is Marduke’s rough, guttural voice that penetrates and dispels the atmosphere. ‘This meeting is a waste of time. Nothing will be resolved here. Nothing is ever resolved without war. It is the way of the universe.’

  Lorian asks, ‘Does Marduke speak the truth, sister? Is there no hope for peace between us?’

  Lathenia stares pointedly at her brother. ‘There can only be peace when there is justice, for you rule by default.’

  ‘Need I remind you that of the three of us, I was born first.’

  ‘So you claim,’ Lathenia argues. ‘But it should have been me!’

  With eyes as fiery as coals Lathenia leaps from her stool, her body upright and rigid with rage. ‘Marduke is right. This meeting is pointless. Only force will give me justice. Control of all the realms should be mine, and I will have it!’

  Calmly, Lorian replies, ‘Sister, neither of us controls the realms. The humans govern themselves. They have free will and choose their own destiny. For as long as they are mortal we are only their caretakers.’

  ‘That will change.’

  Lorian’s shoulders stiffen and he too rises. Around the room all eyes move from one angry god to the other.

  ‘You cannot change what must be,’ Lorian hisses. ‘Marduke speaks of the way of the universe, but I speak of the way of life.’

  ‘It is my ambition to combine the realms,’ Lathenia explains. ‘And I will succeed.’

  ‘But that would be disastrous.’ Lorian is aghast. ‘The humans would … alter. Their very existence would be in danger of domination from the soulless. The inconceivable will become reality, and over time the line between mortality and death will blur.’

  It is in her silence that Lorian understands the depth of his sister’s determination. And for the first time in his long life the makings of real fear flutter within. It quickly turns to anger. In a whisper-soft voice that has the hairs prickle on the back of Lord Penbarin’s neck, Lorian says, ‘You cannot do this.’

  ‘Don’t lecture me, Lorian.’ Lathenia raises her hand, pointing one long finger directly at the narrow opening in the ceiling. ‘This is what I think of your peacemaking.’

  The ceiling begins to peel away. Great chunks of rock and brick jettison into the sky. With another wave of her hand the ceiling completely disappears into the raging blizzard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Lorian asks, his violet eyes flashing with concern.

  Lathenia doesn’t answer. Instead she angles her face up towards the blizzard. In a flash of lightning and resoundi
ng thunder, the thick clouds swirl and begin to scatter. In seconds the blizzard blows away, revealing a night sky sparkling with clarity and millions of stars.

  But Lathenia is hardly finished, and Lorian knows it. His eyes remain riveted to the brilliant night sky. An explosion of light, followed by a hiss, quickly grows into an ear-piercing whistle. It has the mortals diving to the floor a second before the descending chunk of rock explodes above their heads.

  Lady Arabella screams and joins King Richard further beneath the table.

  Lorian doesn’t move, but the power radiating from him is tangible in what’s left of the exposed room at the top of the cliff. His eyes shift upwards, centring on a blue star vivid in the distant sky.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Lord Penbarin remarks. ‘Keep down and out of the way. This could get interes—’

  Before he finishes, a blazing light starts hurtling towards them, accompanied by a high-pitched whining sound that near deafens the Tribunal members. The star shatters in the atmosphere, showering the room in heat and light and burning debris.

  Servants pour out of the monastery, covering their ears and whimpering about the heavens falling. Like ants they run from the cliff as fast and as far away as possible.

  Within minutes the earth is showered with the most brilliant meteor display ever witnessed by human eyes. One explodes so close that the entire monolith shakes and the walls of the monastery crumble on one side. Lorian stares at his sister in disgust. ‘Do you respect no life but your own?’

  She shrugs.

  Another meteor careers almost horizontally across the sky to crash into some far distant land.

  ‘That was Angel Falls!’ Lorian glares at his sister.

  ‘Really? Are you scared of losing a few soldiers?’

  ‘Have you no thought for your own soldiers who live there?’

  ‘I can risk a few to see the death of your elite.’

  Lorian stares at her in silence for a moment. Disgusted. ‘You go too far.’

  ‘Know this, brother, I will always go one further than you.’

  He pauses, and all those cowering beneath the table emerge just enough to see what he plans next. Without moving, Lorian closes his eyes. Lady Arabella peers across the table to Lord Penbarin. She has never seen her liege look so focused, or so angry. Lord Penbarin gives a light shrug, then watches as his Lord and Master begins to glow from the inside out, then slowly starts to shake.