Lichgates

by S. M. Boyce

  “You—!”

  “You have a rare opportunity,” Carden interrupted. “Because you were just a child when she stole you away from me, I will give you a second chance. Don’t repeat your mother’s mistake.”

  The king returned to his throne and bellowed his next words so that they reverberated off the walls of the cavernous hall.

  “Stand and accept what you were born to be, my son.”

  “Never.”

  “Like I said, it’s not a choice.”

  Carden reached toward him and clenched his hand into a fist. Braeden’s stomach tightened, as if his father had reached into his gut and squeezed. He curled over himself, stifling the agonizing yell in his throat.

  The king twisted his hand and opened his palm, where sparks snapped and fizzled. Braeden’s muscles tore at the movement. Popping noises surged along his biceps and neck. His veins chilled and slowed. He unconsciously stood at a twitch of Carden’s finger. Braeden’s grip on his form was slipping. Smoke escaped his pores. Organs shifted. He screamed in pain until a heavy weight fell on his chest and closed his throat.

  “Screams are for the weak,” Carden said.

  The weight eased off Braeden’s lungs, letting him sink back to the floor as the internal tearing and popping stopped. The staggering numbness returned. His cuffs twisted as he moved, and searing fire coursed through his veins. Tremors pulsed through him.

  Carden scowled from his chair, and the green lizard from earlier peered from the shadows beside the throne. Its outline blurred for a moment, but returned to normal so quickly that Braeden questioned what he’d seen.

  It flickered again, more prominently this time.

  Dark lines melted around its face. It grew taller, its skin stretching and pouring into the space around it. In a matter of seconds, the lizard filled the massive hall as it transformed into a dragon.

  Braeden’s mouth went dry.

  The dragon reared its head above the stunned hall and roared. The creature’s tail landed squarely on Carden’s chest, sending him flying into a support column by the main entry. The pillar crumbled on top of the king, burying him, and the dome it supported shattered. The dragon thrashed its wings against the walls by the thrones. Chunks of black marble pummeled downward, cracking the polished floor. Glass rained down on the cloaked subjects. A stampede began for the door.

  A new, shriller roar echoed through the great hall, shooting chills through Braeden’s body. A red dragon with a long black stripe down its spine stood over Kara, bearing its thick teeth. One dragon was bad enough, but two would be unstoppable. He tried to stand, to run, to possibly escape and at minimum find cover, but one of the spikes shifted and lodged into his bone. The pain buckled his knees.

  Another patch in the ceiling crumbled. Pebbles and thick shards of painted glass showered to the floor. What yakona remained fled. Braeden grit his teeth, forced himself to his feet, and staggered to the edge of the hall.

  Two thick claws engulfed him, pulling him into the air and pressing the spikes deeper into his hands with a single, deft motion. He cried out as the throbbing agony pulsed through his arms. Shimmering green scales blotted out the sky. The red dragon appeared in the air beside them, Kara tucked away in its claws.

  The familiar weight of his father’s control returned on Braeden’s chest. Hatred coursed through his mind like a fever. He turned to the floor. Carden lay trapped beneath the rubble, a shredded look of fury consuming his gray face, and Braeden lost himself to the final ounces of his father’s remaining energy.

  Kill the dragon, he was told. Rip it apart. Return.

  He writhed, consumed by his father’s commands, but the green dragon clutched him tighter until the pain of the poisoned cuffs outweighed even his father’s will. He dangled in the dragon’s claws and watched the Stele recede from sight.

  For at least twenty minutes, the dragons soared over the Stele’s black, snowcapped forests. The trees disobeyed the wind, bending instead to follow Braeden as he passed them. Carden’s monsters sped through the forests below, sinister shadows that traced his every move.

  Whispers of his father’s orders echoed on the air. Braeden scanned the sky behind them, but nothing followed. A mountain range loomed in the distance, and his heart pounded with excitement. This was the edge of the Stele’s domain.

  The dragons reeled upward, flying over the summit. Frigid gusts of wind bit his face as they peaked and circled to a meadow on the other side, which was far enough down the slope that the snow had dissolved into slush and cold mud. The grass was brown, and only the pine trees flourished, but he still wished for solid ground much sooner than it came.

  The red dragon set Kara down in the meadow; Braeden, however, was dropped with less care. When the claws released him into the air a few feet above the sparse grass, the spikes jostled in his skin. He thudded to the ground and did not try to stand.

  Nearby, a huff of air shot past Braeden like a breath from a bull’s nose. The red dragon glared at him. It sprinted toward him so fast that he did not have time to react. It grabbed him with one claw, kicking the air from his body as they shot through the meadow. The dragon flickered and changed shape again, melting into her human form as they hurled toward the mountain. Her copper-colored skin and pale hair shimmered in the dying sunlight before she shoved him against a cliff with one hand on his chest.

  Rocks broke against his spine and tore through his tunic. The cuffs ripped open the skin they touched, sending bolts of crippling pain through his arms and back. He cursed, but choked on the pebbles and dust that rained over them. The shape-shifter threw her free arm to the side, as if pointing off into the forest, and a thin white blade slid into her palm from the depths of the air around her. She held it to his neck.

  “Stop!” Kara yelled.

  Braeden squinted back to where he’d sat only seconds before. The green dragon flickered and shifted into a man. He unbound Kara’s hands but grabbed her shoulder to stop her from running over. She fought with him, murmuring inaudibly, but he shook his head and whispered something Braeden couldn’t hear.

  The woman’s grip tightened. “Braeden Drakonin, listen closely to me. I am not fond of your father. Had you not defied him in his own court, we would have left you. But mark me, yakona. If you betray our trust, death will become a mercy before I am done with you.”

  “I get that a lot. But yes, I understand.”

  She released him. Her blade disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. She grimaced at him as if she smelled something foul, but snapped her fingers. His shackles fell to the ground.

  He grabbed his wrists and sank to the mossy grass in relief, too exhausted to thank her or to wonder how she’d done it. The black pools of his wounds knit themselves together, but the process was slow. They congealed and bubbled, the poison resisting his body as it mended itself. His half-healed jaw grafted, but the internal sting of broken veins persisted. Muscles wove themselves back together. Bones popped as they finally slid back into place. The poison continued to circulate as his body tried to heal around it, and it would be hours before no scars remained. Even then, the internal tremors would continue.

  He examined the shifter-woman. Her pale blond hair fell to her waist, where it rolled out in small curls. Patches of copper in her tan skin glistened in the sun. Her piercing blue eyes crinkled in an expression of annoyance.

  “You two are drenowith. Muses,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you were just myths.”

  “As we prefer. I’m Adele, and this is Garrett.”

  She gestured toward the other muse. He had rusty hair, the color of embers in a fire, but his skin was the same coppery shade as Adele’s.

  Garrett released his grip on Kara’s shoulder. She ran to Braeden and knelt beside him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Kara turned to Adele. “How did you undo his shackles? I thought only the person who put them on could take
them off.”

  “We are above yakona laws, young Vagabond.”

  “Well, thank you for saving us, then.”

  “The first Vagabond was our friend, to whom we owed a debt. It’s now paid. What is your name?”

  “Kara. So you’re muses, huh? All the letter said about you is that you’re shape-shifters. Can you become anything?”

  “Anything we imagine,” Garret said.

  Braeden tried to avoid looking at the muse he’d been ordered to kill.

  Kara shook her head. “This is insane. So, you knew the Vagabond and you obviously don’t age. Are you immortal?”

  “Not immortal,” Adele corrected. “While we don’t grow old, we can die. Everything is mortal, even Earth.”

  “It’s hard to believe that a human found the Grimoire,” Garrett interrupted.

  “I agree,” Adele said. “The first Vagabond lost faith in his kind not long before he disappeared, so I suspected his successor wouldn’t be a yakona. Still, I never thought it possible that his protégé could be a human.”

  “I’m starting to redefine my idea of possible,” Kara said with a laugh.

  “I am curious, Kara,” Garrett said as he leaned against a tree. “What language do you believe you’re speaking?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “Please, humor me.”

  “English.”

  Braeden’s heart skipped a beat. She’d said it with such conviction that he wanted to believe her.

  “We aren’t speaking English,” Braeden said. “You’re speaking our common language.”

  “What—?” She laughed. “I don’t even know what that is!”

  Garrett chimed in before Kara could continue. “I know this is confusing, my girl, but listen closely. The first Vagabond often created new vagabonds, and when he did, he would inherently pass on some of his gifts to them. However, it seems that he passed on everything he ever achieved to you because you have his Grimoire. Among other things, you now possess an intuitive understanding of the languages he knew.”

  She paused, seeming to grapple with the concept. “That doesn’t even make sense. I mean, why does it sound like English to me? And wouldn’t language evolve over a thousand years?”

  “You do have a strange accent.” Braeden chuckled.

  Kara glared at him, so he cleared his throat and tried to forget his poorly-timed joke.

  “No, nothing much changes here,” he added.

  Garrett crossed his arms. “Please entertain me with an experiment. I will need your cooperation, young prince. It will not hurt you, at least not in body.”

  How comforting.

  Kara shuddered. “This is freaking me out.”

  “If you do possess this gift, it will help you to protect yourself,” Garrett said.

  She sighed and nodded, so the muse continued.

  “The vagabonds were famous for their ability to search another’s mind. If the gift lives on, you will be able to see the moment which has most defined our young prince’s life to this day. It’s rarely a pleasant encounter”—Garrett glanced to Braeden—“but this gift might save your life. Give me your hand.”

  She obeyed by shoving her hand at him, which Garrett then pressed against Braeden’s forehead. Her touch tickled his skin, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were gray.

  A spark shocked the space beneath her finger. Ice pooled on his forehead, and his breath chilled in his lungs. All color and light dissolved into a black haze. The muses disappeared into the darkness, as did the forest and the mountain. Kara was the last to dissolve from view, and all was dark.

  White and gold wisps wove upward from the ground, twisting and shimmering until they formed the figure of the woman he so sorely missed.

  Mother’s ghost appeared before him, glowing and smiling from where she sat opposite him in a carriage. She was draped in the gleaming gold outline of a long fur coat, her black hair cascading in rich curls around her perfect face. Her hands, her smile, her mouth: everything was suspended in this memory, every gesture blurring as the world moved a second too slowly. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, but they glittered as she grinned at him. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

  “The Villing Caves are just a few hours away. Are you excited? There are frozen dragons there!” Her voice bounced and echoed, forcing him to relive the same words many times. She laughed and leaned in, pinching his nose. The touch left frost on his skin.

  The carriage stopped suddenly, throwing her back into her seat. A scream echoed in the darkness. His mother’s frantic eyes caught his.

  “Stay hidden,” she ordered. “Don’t come out, no matter what you see.”

  She brushed his cheek with her icy fingers and closed a panel in the carriage, sealing him inside the secret compartment. He peered through a hole in the wood in time to see her lean through a window, her head disappearing into the shadows outside. She screamed, but it was interrupted by a choking sound.

  A frail hand reached into the carriage and pulled on her neck, lifting her from her seat. She grabbed the window frame with her hands, nails breaking as she fought to pull herself back in. A squishing noise resonated through the small carriage, the wet sound of something sharp slicing flesh, and his mother fell limp against the window. The hand released her and stretched its fingers. A silver barb retracted from the palm.

  “Leave the boy and the woman,” a voice called from outside. “Blood Carden is coming for them.”

  The darkness faded. The meadow grass returned blade by blade as Braeden returned to reality. He rubbed his eyes as the memory ended, his head pounding and his arms soaked with cold sweat. Garrett and Adele stood by and watched in silence. Kara sat across from him, her lips parted as she tried to form words, but all she could do was stare.

  “The gift survived, then,” Garrett said.

  Kara’s wide eyes were wet, and she tugged at the locket on her neck. “Braeden, was that your mom?”

  He bit his cheek and avoided saying anything until he could lift his head long enough to speak. “Yes.”

  “Braeden, I—”

  “They’re coming! We need to hide.” Adele glanced into the calm forest behind her.

  “What?” Kara asked. “Can’t you just do the dragon thing again and get us out of here?”

  “They’re watching the skies,” Garrett said as he shook his head.

  Kara stood and offered Braeden a hand. He snorted at the idea that such a scrawny girl could lift him, but accepted her offer anyway because the poison still stung his veins and made movement a chore. The muses walked past him toward the base of the mountain.

  Adele placed her hand on the sheer rock, which heaved like water at her touch and dripped slowly away to reveal a hidden cavern. Air leaked from this new chamber all at once, a heavy sigh that blew over them long enough to dry most of the lingering sweat on Braeden’s neck. The stone hummed as Adele turned and beckoned.

  “Hurry. We have no time left to wait.”

  Hordes

  Drops of liquid rock slid along the edges of the cave entrance that had been a solid wall a moment ago. Braeden cocked an eyebrow and tried to hide his surprise. He’d never seen that before.

  Garrett ushered him into the cave after Kara. Inside, a thin waterfall trickled and splashed over a few small boulders in a corner. The forest was visible through the rock wall, although an opaque gleam drained the world of all color except for muted browns and tans. Adele was the last to enter the cave, and more rock drizzled over the entrance once she was safely through. The droplets fell from above in a gushing shower, drawing thin lines of stone over the air. Soon, the strings of the hardening mountain solidified into a seamless wall, sealing the four of them inside.

  Braeden brushed his hand along the newly-formed cliff face. The cool stone pushed against his palm: smooth, hard, and impassible. Kara grinned nearby and shook her head.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “There is no name for the convers
ations muses have with the earth,” Adele replied.

  “Does that mean you don’t know?”

  Garrett chuckled and Adele smirked, but neither answered.

  “The two of you wait here while we decided what to do next,” Garrett said. He led Adele into the depths of the cave, and more rock drizzled away as they walked, giving them endless room to pace and debate.

  Kara sighed and rubbed her neck. “I don’t see why we couldn’t keep going. I mean, there’s nothing out there. It’s so calm.”

  Braeden turned back to the forest. Distant trees bent against the wind and crashed out of sight, trampled by the horde that, from the way the trees curved, was at least a hundred strong. If she couldn’t see that, this girl apparently had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. Even armed with the Grimoire, she didn’t seem to stand much of a chance.