by T. A. White
Ajari’s smile was cruel. “What makes you think he’s trapped?”
That had never occurred to her.
Before she could ask any questions, Griffin let out a victorious shout. Shea turned in time to see him press his hand against the rock that made up the side of the butte. Beneath his fingers the rock was alight with a pale yellow. There was a rumble and then a section of the rock peeled away, revealing an archway rising high above them. Behind it yawned a large, dark hole.
Griffin didn’t wait, darting inside, his arms spread wide as if to embrace everything about the space.
“We should follow,” Ajari said.
The two of them shared a glance, each other’s thoughts clear to see. Neither of them welcomed the thought of passing through that arch. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of a choice.
Shea started forward, the mythological at her side. The remaining beast padded along, bringing up the rear. Its position at their backs meant she couldn’t run, even if she’d wanted to.
Once past the archway, Shea found herself in a wide-open space. The butte was hollow. This was no small cave or tunnel. It was infinitely bigger than what should be possible given its apparent size from the outside.
Shea looked around, observing, curious despite the dire circumstances. High above, narrow stained-glass windows depicting a scene from long ago allowed light into the opening. Shea had to wonder if she climbed the outside of the butte if she would find those windows lurking in the crevasses of its rock.
The ground was polished smooth, their footsteps echoing in the large space. It was beyond anything she’d ever seen in the great cities of the Highlands or Lowlands.
In the middle of the wide space was a tree, its base twisted and black. It looked like metal to Shea, the substance seeming hard and unyielding. Its branches were long, the crown full, and long spindles of green hung from it, causing the branches to bow under their weight.
Around its base was a field of purple and blue grass, flowers growing in shapes Shea had never seen in nature.
It was beautiful and otherworldly—astonishing in a place known for surprising things.
Despite that, shivers ran up and down her back. She sensed a wrongness emanating from the tree.
“Look to your left and your right,” Ajari murmured.
Shea did as he asked, flicking quick glances around them. Trees similar to the one before them crouched, their branches snarled and bare. They appeared dead, no sign of life among them. There was no grass at their feet, just twisted twigs and dirt.
“Each tree fuels him. They strengthen him. Right now the worst of him is contained here, only the smallest bits escaping to influence the land. If you do not act soon, his power will grow beyond what can be contained by this place,” the mythological said with a meaningful look.
Shea’s nod was hesitant.
Griffin had wandered up to the tree, pressing a hand against its trunk, a devout and humbled expression on his face.
The remaining beast shifted, placing one foot onto the grass before drawing back suddenly with a yelp. Blood glistened along the blades. Shea bent closer, surprise rising. This wasn’t grass, or not any grass she’d ever seen. The blades were razor-sharp, drawing blood when she touched one. They felt almost like glass, smooth and slick under her fingers, their depths opaque rather than clear.
Everything in this place, beautiful or not, was designed to kill, to draw the maximum amount of pain, its beauty hiding a dark heart.
“Don’t dawdle,” Griffin said without turning.
The beast let out a small sound as it minced across the grass, bloody footprints trailing behind it.
“How do we get across?” Shea asked, eyeing the grass with trepidation.
“We walk,” Ajari said.
She looked up at him in denial, her shoulders slumping at the implacable expression on his face.
He drew her forward, ignoring her resistance. Her boots wouldn’t protect her.
“It’s the only way,” Ajari murmured.
Shea relented. His feet were even less protected than hers.
The grass crunched under her, the pressure against the sole of her boots making her cringe. Ajari’s face was stony and remote as he moved beside her. She looked down and blanched at the sight of his blood marking his passage.
They were only halfway to the tree before the protection of her boots gave out, and she inhaled sharply when the grass pierced the bottom of her foot.
“This is close enough,” Ajari said after a few more steps.
Shea stopped, grateful she didn’t have to walk any further. Her feet were cut up but weren’t shredded as Ajari’s were. Griffin wandered around the base of the tree, seeming to not even notice the lacerations on the soles of his feet. More evidence of how obsessed and unstable he’d become.
Griffin turned from the tree, removing an item from his pocket. In a smooth move, he aimed it at the beast where it crouched, looking up at the tree.
A harsh sound preceded a pained yelp. The red back tried to run, but Griffin pointed the small device at him again and its head exploded. Its body dropped to the grass, the sharp blades shredding even its tough hide.
Shea started and would have moved away if Ajari hadn’t grabbed her hand and held her in place.
Griffin hummed as he moved toward the red back. He snapped off one of the green spirals from the tree, the slight tinkling sound indicating it was made from the same substance as the grass and likely to be just as sharp.
Griffin knelt by the beast, uncaring as the grass bit into his knees. He hacked at the beast’s stomach, opening up a foot-long slit. He reached into its still warm body, withdrawing a small egg-shaped object. It was a pure white, seemingly untouched by the blood and a milky white substance covering it. The Lux. It had to be, based upon the stories she’d heard.
So, that’s where he’d hidden it. All this time and it had been right next to her. Hidden in the beast’s stomach. Smart. Diabolical, but smart.
The Lux’s glow was brighter than her mother had led her to expect. It looked like a miniature sun in Griffin’s hands.
He held it up to the tree. “Father, I present my offering. At long last, you can take up your mantle of power and be released from any bonds placed on you.”
The branches of the trees rustled and from the darkness came the same laughing hiss heard in Shea’s dream.
An impending sense of doom gripped her. If he handed the Lux to that creature, the Highlands would fall. Some of the Lowlands might survive, but her home, the people she’d known and loved all her life would not.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Shea took a step forward, her hand upraised. “Griffin, wait. Think about what you’re doing. You can’t give that to him.”
Griffin turned to her, confusion on his face. His eyes were feverish and glazed, madness lurking deep inside. Shea was abruptly reminded that this was a man who’d killed his own mother once she’d outlived her use to him. He would think nothing of doing the same to her. In fact, the only surprise was that he hadn’t already.
She moved another inch toward him. She had to at least try.
“I know you’re angry over what happened in the trials, but this is not the way,” she pled.
“I’m past that,” he said, his face serene and calm. “That was fate. I’m thankful for it. It put me on the path that brought me here.”
Shea took another step toward him. “A lot of people will die if the Lux is misused. Do you know what that thing is capable of?”
He shrugged. “That is the fate of those who are weak.”
“You don’t mean that,” Shea denied, even though she knew he did. She needed to keep him talking, at least for a few minutes more.
“I do. The old guard is finished. Their ideals and restrictions are from an era long gone,” he said in a passionate voice. “Our people should have ruled the Broken Lands. They had the power at their fingertips, and what did they d
o? Nothing. They waited until some barbarian with little more than a sword and arrow took what was ours by right. Instead of ruling, turning our home into the seat of power, they hid and bargained, fading away a piece at a time.”
For a man who gave every evidence of being thoroughly mad, Griffin sounded incredibly coherent, echoing things Shea had thought over the years. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to bathe the Broken Lands in conquest, but she had never understood why the pathfinders didn’t share their knowledge with the rest of the world.
They had an incredible potential to do good, but if they remained as they were, hiding, pretending not to see as the world deteriorated around them, that good would never come to fruition.
Griffin’s face softened and suddenly he was the boy she remembered, his eyes alight with passion, his dreams to change the world so big and bold they were impossible right from the start.
“Join me,” he said. “The father can be kind.”
“Yes. Join us, daughter,” a voice snaked from the darkness. “Together, we will rule.”
Shea edged another step closer, ignoring the fear that skated down her spine. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, as if the very darkness spawned it. Yet there was no evidence of its form.
Griffin’s face tightened, and he looked briefly angry before his face smoothed into placid lines.
“Your talents are like no other’s. They would be a boon to our cause,” the darkness said. Its voice whispered temptation, promising riches beyond her conception.
Did they really think she would be so easily swayed? Maybe once, back when she’d first been forced from her home. She’d been so angry then. Life had seemed unfair, her thoughts turning to self-pity.
Now, however, she saw where she’d gone wrong. She knew love, real love, the kind you would sacrifice anything for. She had friends and a people she’d do everything in her power to protect.
Pretty words and false ideals wouldn’t turn her attention so easily.
Again, Shea thought she saw a flash of irritation on Griffin’s face. It gave her an idea.
“Is that what you want?” she asked Griffin. “It sounds like once I’ve joined you, he’ll have no more need of you.”
She gave him an arrogant smile, not letting him see the fear threatening to buckle her legs or the way her hands shook. “Is that really the type of being you serve? One who would throw you away as soon as something better comes along?”
“You’re not better than me,” Griffin snapped, his voice raised.
Shea felt the dark’s interest, its focus shifting to Griffin. It didn’t seem bothered by Griffin’s anger, in fact it seemed to rejoice in it.
“Are you sure?” Shea asked. “I think I’ve already proven I am.”
Griffin took several steps toward her, his gestures violent and full of fury. “I know what you’re doing. You think to take my place. Not this time. You can act as the sacrifice that raises my master from the dead. Your pain and suffering will fuel his return.”
The dark writhed behind Griffin, the shadows several shades darker, their movements ecstatic.
Griffin was close enough. She wouldn’t get another chance.
His eyes went over her shoulder. “Kill her. Slowly.”
Shea ignored the thump of fear, ducking and rolling as a pair of claws sliced the air where she’d just been standing.
She grabbed the green spiral Griffin had left discarded next to the red back, ignoring the bright line of fire where it cut into her hands. She rolled up to stand in the grass, blood dotting her clothes where the glass had pierced her skin.
Behind Griffin the dark shape had grown larger, the grotesque, elongated shape of a man beginning to emerge. It wasn’t human, or if it was, it was a twisted, perverted version.
Griffin swung at her. She ducked, coming up and using the spiral like a dagger, burying its length in his stomach.
He gave a choked gasp, blanching as he looked down in surprise. Shea didn’t let herself pause, didn’t let herself think, yanking her glass dagger out and completing the move Trenton had drilled into her. She buried the make-shift dagger in his throat, jerking it free as blood sprayed. She’d hit his carotid artery.
His hand came up to clutch his neck, surprise and hurt on his face.
Shea didn’t have time to savor the victory or feel guilt over what she’d done. Ajari tackled her from behind. She landed on her back in the grass, its sharp blades claiming more of her blood.
Claws raked along her side. She managed to raise one foot, planting it on his torso and shoving him back.
She rolled, making a desperate grab for Griffin’s neck. Her fingers had just touched the necklace when Ajari leapt at her, his claws outstretched.
“Stop,” she shouted.
The mythological landed, poised above her on all fours—his face close to hers.
His gaze went from her to the necklace she held in her outstretched hand. She didn’t let it go, even if it was still attached to Griffin’s cooling body.
“Back up,” she ordered.
The mythological bared his teeth at her. “I knew you were like all the other mice.”
He crawled off her, before standing and backing away over the bladed glass. His expression remote, showing none of the pain he had to be feeling from the cuts on his bare feet.
Shea climbed to her feet, biting back a moan of pain at the many, many tiny slices dotting her body.
A warm laugh reached out to surround her. During the struggle, the dark had become more solid, his features more distinct in addition to the bizarrely long arms and legs he now had. He towered over the two of them by several feet.
“Very good, my daughter. I only have need of the strong, and he was a weak vessel,” the presence said.
Shea watched it, her feelings numb and her heart cold. Even fear seemed remote and indistinct.
“You feed on anger and fear,” she guessed.
The creature didn’t confirm her claim, but she knew she was correct. It made sense. Their fight had done nothing but fuel it, giving it power to take shape.
It made her wonder how far its reach extended. Could it soak up those emotions from the rest of the Broken Land or did it need closer proximity?
She had a feeling it was a mix of both. She suspected their original trip to the Badlands had given it its start, soaking it with their fear and anger as one by one they died. Then Fallon with his army had probably bolstered it. Griffin had finished the job, bringing them to now.
“Give me the Lux so that I might fuel myself for the coming conquest,” the darkness said, lust in it’s voice.
Shea’s smile was ugly. She palmed the charm and tossed it at Ajari. “If I were you, I’d run while you can,” she told him.
“What are you doing?” the dark hissed. “We still have need of him. He will be your general.”
Shea snorted as the mythological backed away. “There’s not going to be any army.”
She bent and grabbed the Lux.
“You cannot escape here,” the dark warned. “Why do you insist on fighting?”
Shea set her fingers on either end of the Lux and turned from the dark toward the tree. “Do you know my family line extends all the way back to the cataclysm? We were among the founders of our guild. The first ones tasked with the Lux’s protection. It was a surprise to me too.” She gave him a sideways smirk. “Do you want to know why?”
“No,” he roared as she pressed her fingers down and rotated. Thin cracks ate away at the Lux’s shell, creating a spider web of lines.
Light cascaded out of the Lux, slowly at first and then faster. The light hesitated, almost sentient as if it waited for direction.
“Destroy the tree,” Shea ordered it. There was no hesitation in her voice, not an ounce of shadow in her heart. She needed that tree’s destruction along with all the power it contained more than she needed her next breath.
The light raged, a rioting inferno
consuming everything it touched. A dull coldness crept up her arms from where she held the egg. Shea made a sound of pain as her essence drained into it, feeding the fire. She held out as long as possible, standing strong to give it those precious extra seconds as the light escaped.
Her mother had been correct. There was always a price to pay when dealing with the powerful weapons of the cataclysm.
Shea collapsed to her knees, drained of much that she was. In that moment, she would have welcomed death. She looked up, watching with dead eyes as flame licked at the tree and the dark screamed beside it.
“What have you done?” it roared.
“Simply what my ancestors would have wanted,” Shea said without remorse, watching as the flame consumed the tree.
The dark had visibly shrunk, whatever power it held disappearing as the tree burned. Destroying it seemed to significantly weaken the being.
“I will kill you for this. Your pain will sustain me until I can find a new vessel,” he hissed, shooting away from the tree.
Shea watched him come. Her energy was gone, her will as flimsy and insubstantial as paper. The strength to run had deserted her. It was all she could do to remain upright as death approached.
A sword speared through the air, burying itself into center of the dark at the same time as Ajari’s strong arms caught her, yanking her away. There was a wordless scream and dark cracks appeared in its form. The dark tried to pry the sword out, but it didn’t budge. The silveright coating that Trenton had subjected it to was eating away at the darkness, spiraling out from the blade until threads of silver ate away large pieces of the being, dissolving it in front of her eyes.
Ajari’s grim face appeared over hers as he raced away with her. “Little mouse, you are much more dangerous than you seem.”
She gave him a tired smile. “Symptom of being a Trateri pathfinder.”
Behind them, the flames licked higher, the last of the tree falling to the light.
Trenton waited at the edge of the grass where he’d thrown the sword from, his face intent and solemn as he watched what his sword had wrought. He let them pass before following, guarding their backs as they fled the flame and the horror the tree’s grove had become, the dark’s agonized screams of rage and pain echoing after them.
