The Hall of Doors

by Phillip Locey

  Once the lights of the settlement had faded and all was a dim grey, Be’naj made a sharp right. She kept her wings tucked in but they slowed her as always, yet another reason she hated them. Her own sharp breath and the pounding of her feet against the ground made it difficult to hear anything else. She wasn’t sure they were even being pursued, but didn’t dare stop running.

  The brush of something against her wings startled her, but when she looked over her shoulder it was only Saffron catching up. Be’naj wished she could use telepathy to ask Saffron if she was unhurt, for she couldn’t spare the air to speak.

  “I will peel the skin from your delicious bones!” came the Hezrou’s voice in a perverse response to her desire. It was impossible to discern direction with her mind, and Be’naj worried they were going to be cut off. Still, she kept running straight because Saffron was.

  “Just keep going – we should be able to see the Rift in a few moments.” Saffron seemed in better shape, for Be’naj already had a stitch in her side and wasn’t sure a few moments of running were left in her.

  Inevitably, she started slowing down even though she didn’t want to. She was sweating profusely and her breath was ragged; she just wasn’t able to keep the pace. Saffron drifted further ahead into the haze and Be’naj reached out, willing her friend to slow down, to not leave her behind. She didn’t think she could manage to speak unless she stopped altogether, and imagined the giant, turtle-backed Tanar-ri only steps behind, so she kept running.

  Be’naj thought she saw the Abyssal Rift in the distance – a spot of bluish color cutting through the foggy air – but just couldn’t go on without catching her breath. After a few more stumbling steps, she stopped and doubled over, resting her hands on her knees and gasping for air as the cramp pinched her side. Saffron disappeared altogether ahead of her, and Be’naj dared to peek over her shoulder while trying to normalize her breathing.

  If she hadn’t already been bent over, the huge talon swooping down from overhead would have surely snagged her. She caught the movement at the last second and dropped to the ground as the clawed fingers closed above her. Something akin to a giant vulture passed by and began climbing into the haze, its momentum carrying it past Be’naj.

  “You are mine, and there is no escape!” came a new voice, higher-pitched than the Hezrou, but just as unpleasant.

  Be’naj looked up, trying to trace the flight of the creature, but it had vanished into the smoggy sky. She forced herself to stand and drew her sword, its Celestial radiance a beacon that she now felt forced to risk.

  As she prepared to face another dive from above, the grey dimness was split by a streak of light and a clap of thunder. A pulsing sphere of white flashed in the sky, briefly illuminating Palomar, who’d struck a bird-like demon slightly larger than himself. The two adversaries hovered and circled in the air, vanishing and then reappearing with every blow of Palomar’s sword, the majority of which were parried by the dark shaft of a jagged-tipped spear that seethed black energy.

  Be’naj was mesmerized by the aerial battle and didn’t notice Saffron’s return until she’d looped an arm around hers. “Come, Be’naj, hurry!” Saffron yelled. Be’naj allowed herself to be pulled toward the Rift. Looking back, she saw the hulking shape of the Hezrou silhouetted in the haze, bounding toward her.

  She forced herself to run again, ignoring the protestations of her body as she headed for the dark-light of the Abyssal Rift. When she got close enough to see it clearly, she spied Thaelios and Dyphina, who stepped into the Rift as soon as they saw her. Saffron’s arm had slipped forward until they were just holding hands, but she didn’t let go, and Be’naj followed her into the crackling scar of energy.

  The trip back to the Mountain was just as physically unpleasant, but it also came with a wave of relief. She was pulled forward by Thaelios and Dyphina as soon as she arrived on the other side, where they all waited for Palomar, hoping that the demons of the Doomwait decided not to cross as well.

  Chapter 9

  The Depths of Betrayal

  A nnoxoria’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, narrowly escaping Sepathia’s jaws as the Nightwing’s sinuous neck lunged at her. She was in her bed, she realized, and the attack was only a nightmare – or was it? A sharp pain, originating in her stomach, spread through her as she sank back onto her pillow.

  She lifted the fur blanket from her bare chest and carefully rolled it down her torso until her stomach was exposed. Just below her ribs, bandages of white linen encircled her, and memories of her quest for the Nightwing scale started washing over her. She thought she had died in the forest on the slopes of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains, but here she was in the bedroom she shared with Thuvian.

  Daylight cascaded through cracks in the curtains, and the polished ebony posts of her canopy bed glinted in its radiance. A cup of water rested on the nightstand, and she forced herself into a sitting position so she could reach it. She took a sip and glanced around the room, noticing not only that she was alone but that certain features were out of place.

  A number of decorative vases were missing, and a pictogram drawn in some crimson pigment defaced the smooth glass of the mirror her lover had gifted her. A wardrobe, standing against the wall beyond the foot of her bed, was chipped and scarred as if it’d fallen on its front face before returning upright.

  The twin doors to the right of that wardrobe swung open and Thuvian burst through, dressed in a black tabard underneath his red cape, a sure sign he’d been taking care of royal business. “Ah, Nox, you’re awake!” He crossed the floor to reach her side in a few long strides and sat on the mattress, only to inspect the bandages across her midsection.

  “I am,” she said, taking one last sip of her water before replacing it on the stand. “What happened to our room? What happened in the valley?”

  “I was afraid you’d left me,” Thuvian said, his voice softer. He reached out and skimmed a clawed hand through her tight curls, and she leaned in to his touch. “And this,” he drew back and gestured to the rest of the room, “is not nearly as bad as what happened in the rest of the castle.”

  “What do you mean? What is it?” Guilt seized upon her, for Annoxoria knew whatever she was about to hear was ultimately her fault.

  “That fiend Izefet and his Aasimar betrayed us, as you suspected. They must have waited until I went after you, then set to ransacking the place. They paid no heed when the Chamberlain forbade them from entering areas of the castle I’d restricted to them, then slayed the guards who were called to stop them.”

  Annoxoria heard the anger rising in Thuvian’s voice as he spoke, and one of his hands squeezed a fistful of bedding. A lump grew in her throat, but she forced her question around it, “Did they take the Living Fire?”

  He nodded, gravely. “They must not have wanted to risk facing me directly, for by accounts they didn’t tarry long. But they stole all the Seeds of the Avatars we’d collected and did a good bit of damage in the process.” Thuvian shoved his hands against the bed and stood, snarling to control his rage.

  “All of my being screams to hunt them down and make them pay for this, but I can’t abandon the castle until I learn what my sister is up to. It’s been three days and I’ve had no word nor seen any signs. I know she can’t abide your intrusion and subsequent escape. There will be a reprisal.”

  Annoxoria slowly shook her head, wishing to collapse inward until she ceased to exist. “I am sorry, my Lord. All of this is my doing. Let me help set it right,” she pleaded.

  “What you can do now is heal. I will need you in the weeks ahead, Nox, but not until you’ve mended further.” Thuvian peeked at her stomach again. “It looks like the healers got the bleeding stopped, at least, so you should recover. I’m amazed Sepathia’s poison didn’t finish you, but am glad for it.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  Annoxoria could hardly stand him being so tender. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy his affection, but she knew it meant that he saw weakness – deemed her
unfit to handle his usual rough edges.

  “I’ve got to finish overseeing the ballista preparations in case Sepathia attacks the castle directly. You should rest. I’ll have the servants bring you food – you must be starving.” Thuvian turned to leave, his deep red cape swirling behind him. Annoxoria’s mind was cluttered with things to say, but she couldn’t get any of them out before he closed the doors behind him.

  Thuvian mentioned that Izefet had taken the Living Fire, but she held onto hope that he hadn’t actually found all of it … She whisked back the blankets and slowly turned onto her side, being as careful as possible not to engage her core more than necessary. Annoxoria pushed her legs to the edge of the bed and then off, twisting until she stood.

  The movement was painful, but not more than she could endure. No longer under the furs, her bare chest was cold. She hobbled to the stand where a black, silken night robe hung. Slipping it on, she decided to look first for the satchel she’d taken on her journey, hoping it hadn’t been lost in the fray with the Thralls.

  She found it and her muddy clothes by the desk where she kept her make-up. Her heart in her throat, Annoxoria unclasped the satchel and searched through it, stopping when she came upon the rough, black scale of the Nightwing. She clasped it to her chest and exhaled. Though she still had no idea if the magic would actually work, at least her foray into the swamps hadn’t been completely meaningless.

  Her spirits higher, she dared to hope that the wards on her private chambers remained intact and were enough to thwart any members of the cult who had defaced her and Thuvian’s shared quarters. She placed the scale on the desk and pressed her hands against furniture to support her as she took short steps over to the hall.

  Annoxoria felt like someone else had been here – had at least attempted to violate her personal laboratory and library. She exhaled sharply and prepared to walk the rest of the way without support for her upper body, as she’d run out of furniture to lean on.

  Using quick but abbreviated steps, she waddled down the brief hallway to the door of her library. Stabs of pain came with every stride, but it didn’t take long to reach the comforting wood, reinforced with bands of iron. She leaned against the door, then closed her eyes as she lowered a hand to the knob and turned – it was still locked.

  Opening her eyes, Annoxoria took a moment to compose herself, then uttered the password to allow entry and pushed the portal inward. Crossing the threshold, she executed a quick assessment of the room. Thankfully, nothing seemed disturbed. She hobbled to her desk where some books were lain out, paying less attention to the discomfort of her stomach.

  With effort, she sat in the comfortable chair and glanced over the books, still open to the sections she’d been reading before her journey. Annoxoria leaned over and opened a lower drawer on the side of the desk. A wave of relief washed over her a second time. She reached down and withdrew the kraken sculpture Hadrian No More had crafted for her, still set with an inwardly lit jewel of the Living Fire.

  Its bright red glow leapt out to greet her, and a smile stretched her lips as she placed the statuette delicately on top of her desk. Sepathia may have poisoned her, and Izefet may have tricked her into cutting off her finger, but Annoxoria was going to have the last laugh. She was going to become what she was always meant to be, and then she would destroy those who had wronged her.

  She wanted to comb through her library and make sure she hadn’t missed anything about possible transformation magic. Now that she had one of the Seeds of the Avatars specifically attuned to assist her, she had only to find the right spell to complete the job. If it didn’t exist in her collection, she would have to find a library that would suit her needs. Perhaps she’d even go so far as to create an alliance with Cauzel Blackfeather – the notion made her laugh, which hurt her belly, so she quickly pushed it aside.

  It didn’t matter. If she couldn’t locate a spell to do what she wanted, she would simply have to experiment. She had plenty of slaves in the mines to work with. She would just have to be patient – not a particular strength of hers to be sure, but she could evolve. Whatever it took.

  For now, Annoxoria was tired. Though she’d apparently slept for days, her body craved rest so it could heal, and that was what she needed. She wanted Thuvian to see she was strong again, to touch her roughly, to desire her and take her the way she liked. She painstakingly rose from her comfortable chair and headed back to bed, making sure to seal the door on the way out.

  “Annoxoria, are you awake?”

  “Mmm,” she responded, though her eyes remained closed and the soft touch of the pillow on her cheek defied separation.

  “I’ve decided to send Pereen to Pasaxtree to gather information on what the Name of the Beast has been up to and see if we can’t get a sense of Izefet’s whereabouts.”

  Thuvian’s voice roused Annoxoria and she opened her eyes. It was night. The room was dark except for the three lit candles of a brass candelabra, clutched in Thuvian’s left hand. “Have there been any developments?” she asked as she sat up. The ointment the apothecary had given her to smear over her wound was working better than she expected.

  “None, and I tire of waiting,” Thuvian said as he sat upon the bed. “I feel like prey: cowering in the Castle, waiting for my enemies to act. I need to hunt.”

  “I know he had to want all that Living Fire for something,” Annoxoria offered, “and it certainly wasn’t to help us.”

  Thuvian nodded. “I wanted to see if you had any information to pass along to the spymaster before he leaves. Anything that might be helpful for his investigation …”

  Annoxoria curled her feet back toward her bottom, bending her legs – a position that would have been impossible a couple days prior – and thought. She knew Thuvian was far more familiar with Sepathia, and she’d leave it to him to figure his sister out. But what about Izefet: what did he truly want and where would that take him?

  “The half-fiend belongs to this cult, if not leads it, but he’s not local. He has connections in the east, and with the Dread Lich for that matter, so what was he doing here?” she asked herself aloud.

  “He was after the Seeds,” Thuvian offered.

  “That is true, but is that all? Yours could not be the only mine capable of harvesting them.”

  “But my mines are not yet well known. Perhaps he came here because he is trying to remain beyond suspicion from other forces? Influence matters without being noticed?”

  “If that’s all it is,” Annoxoria reasoned, “then he might have natural enemies. Perhaps Pereen should find out who they are? If we can bring some of Izefet’s actions to light, we may find an ally against him that we hadn’t considered.”

  “Yes,” Thuvian nodded. “But what does he want? If his operations span Elisahd, might not his aspirations?”

  “Master Guillory said he’s been searching for Rinn-Rhulian,” Annoxoria said, finally voicing what she hoped she wouldn’t have to. It had been in the back of her mind since she learned of Izefet’s betrayal, but she’d fought until now to keep it buried there.

  “The eladrin ruins? Do you think he knows what’s there?” Thuvian sounded worried, which made her even more uneasy.

  “Do any of us, for certain?” She searched his eyes for absolution.

  “Nox.” He shook his head. “If the rumors are true, mine would be the first kingdom to fall. We’ve spent too long building our future to lose everything because we lacked vigilance.”

  “Surely the Ellafous would warn us if the cult was lurking around,” she reasoned.

  “Would you wager on that?” he snapped, the shift in his demeanor unexpected. “They don’t exactly relish the fact that we know how to gain entrance in the first place. I’m sure many of their order would prefer to remove us altogether.”

  Annoxoria reached out and touched her lover’s chest to sooth him. “Which is exactly why I don’t want you to go. There are too many who want us dead right now.” She leaned back onto her pillow, searching the d
ark folds of the bed’s canopy for solutions. “Let me gain my strength, my Lord, and I will go with you.”

  Thuvian opened his mouth and she placed a hand over it to silence his objection. “My magic will help us,” she said firmly. The gods know we may need it.

  Chapter 10

  The Destination Rune

  “A re you both all right?” Dyphina asked, gasping for breath from the trauma of traveling through the Rift.

  Thaelios drew his Celestial dagger to add its light to the spear’s. “Where’s Palomar?” He felt that was the more pressing question, given the Aasimar had actually engaged in combat.

  “I don’t know!” Saffron cried. “Dyphina, the spear!” She snatched the weapon from the half-fey’s grasp and leveled it toward the Rift while backing away. “Stay clear, all of you! We may have enemies pursuing.”

  Be’naj straightened and drew her sword as well. Thaelios’s brain started cycling through the few spells he had memorized, but the crackling hum of the Abyssal Rift distracted him from finding anything useful.

  “Hold a moment!” He shut his eyes to think more clearly. “I don’t think Palomar would let that creature through.”

  “What if he can’t stop it?” Saffron argued. “It looked like he had his hands full.”

  Thaelios opened his eyes to stare at the scar of dark energy with the rest of his companions, waiting to see what emerged. He had no idea what kind of magic beings from the Lower Planes were susceptible to, and he settled on the Mirrored Image spell that had saved him in the Arena. His hand lowered to his ingredient pouch, ready to act if a threat came forth.

  “Shouldn’t we go for help?” Dyphina asked as the moments stretched on. “Back outside the Mountain?”

  “Yes,” Be’naj agreed. “We should fetch more Aasimar and see if they can assist Palomar.”