Lichgates

by S. M. Boyce

  “Did you sleep?” he asked, stretching.

  “No.”

  “I would’ve taken watch, if you were worried.”

  She stood without answering and rolled up the blanket he’d given her the night before. Her exhaustion was biting, but somehow refreshing. For the first time, she began to truly feel the weight in the woods, the strain on the sky, but the sun didn’t dissolve all of the tension like she’d imagined it would. The world was prepared for something she still couldn’t see, and that understanding both unsettled and calmed her.

  They packed without speaking, and it wasn’t until she pulled herself on to the griffin that Braeden spoke again.

  “Kara, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Trudge through these hoops as if you care about our problems. These are our battles, not yours. I know you feel responsible, since you’re the Vagabond, but that doesn’t make you a slave to a world that doesn’t want you.”

  “I have nothing to go back to,” she said, her eyes stinging from the lack of sleep. “Ourea really is all I have left. This place is haunting, and even if I could somehow go back to my old life and never be hunted again, I could never stop dreaming about it. This is my home now. I’ll fight to keep it safe if that’s what it takes.”

  “We’re lucky, then.” He smiled and patted her ankle before jumping into the seat behind her and leaning against her back for balance. The griffin took a running start, beat its wings, and lifted them into the air.

  Kara and Braeden flew until midday, long after a massive waterfall dissolved into view. It fell in a thick sheet over the sheer cliff, consuming at least a half mile on the broad mountain side, and even though they flew for hours, they seemed to never get any closer. The roar of its cascading water beat on the wind, drowning out the whistle of the air with its deafening thunder. Braeden tapped her shoulder when they were finally close enough to land and gestured to a wide walkway that led behind the waterfall.

  “That will take us to the caves.”

  There wasn’t enough space for them to land on the walkway itself, so the griffin flew to the top of the cliff to let them off. It nudged Kara’s back and lingered, so she scratched its chin again. It dissolved into a thin funnel of dust at her touch and disappeared into the afternoon light, leaving her to hope that it had returned to the Grimoire and not disappeared forever.

  They walked down the path that led behind the waterfall. There was no cave like she’d expected—just solid rock behind the pummeling water. Nestled into that rock was a lichgate, woven from thin, sprawling vines rooted in the cliff. The entry was small, about the size of a doorway, and its vines sloped without purpose in an odd, crooked frame that led to the muted gray depths of a cave. They walked through and she tried to ignore the telltale flash of blue light and the kick in her stomach.

  The cave wound on for what felt like ages, growing darker with each echoing step. A small gray flame erupted in Braeden’s palm and illuminated the lifeless tunnel when the light from the lichgate disappeared behind them. Kara hung at his side, close enough to feel his body heat through his sleeve. She was trying to think of something to say to fill the echoing darkness when they turned a bend, and the tunnel opened out onto a brilliant morning. She blinked in the sudden sunlight and lifted her hand to shield her eyes until they could adjust.

  Their tunnel continued, but one side had long ago broken away to reveal another stunning waterfall that pulsed overhead. A four-foot wall was left to act as a guardrail between the walkway and the falls, but it was thin and mostly useless. Water pooled in tiny, unavoidable ponds along their path, soaking their pant hems with the waterfall’s excess. Hundreds of feet down, a river tumbled away from the base of the waterfall, flowing its way through a teeming forest. After a few miles of green canopy, a thick line of white beach spread beneath them, and from there, an ocean stretched to the horizon.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. Braeden nodded in agreement.

  They walked in single file along the far side of the wall to avoid slipping. The falls drowned out conversation, so she enjoyed the view. The salty zing of the water vapor snapped her from her exhaustion, and she was too consumed with her sightseeing to notice that Braeden had stopped. She bumped into him and teetered off balance, leaning toward the open tunnel wall, but he grabbed her waist to steady her. She blushed as he pulled her back on her feet, and she hated herself for the heat that raced to her cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “This is it, Kara.”

  He let her go and pointed down another tunnel. A faint green light radiated from hundreds of tiny crystals lining the passage walls. She went in first. As they walked deeper into the mountain, the sunlight and the roar of the water faded. The crystals were more than enough to light the way.

  “Kara, stop for a minute. Don’t look behind you.”

  “Um—okay.”

  Naturally, a tingling sensation burned through her like a finger poking her head, begging her to look because he told her not to. The hair on her neck tickled, and she longed to turn around to see why he was shuffling about behind her.

  “All right,” he finally said. “We can keep going.”

  She relented to her urge to turn around. A tall, thin, and very blue creature with a white shell necklace blinked down at her, his giant green eyes the color of seaweed. Her chest panged in surprise.

  “A warning would have been nice, Braeden.”

  He made a gurgling noise that she figured was laughter. It was faint and soothing, like shallow water over river rocks.

  “Sorry,” he said, starting again down the passageway.

  After only a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel bent around a corner and opened into a vast cavern. Kara whistled and craned her neck to see the ceiling, which loomed more than a mile above them. The massive space echoed with disembodied whispers.

  Hundreds of small breaks in the roof served as skylights, illuminating the breathtaking scene frozen into one of the cavern’s walls. The Grimoire’s drawing hadn’t done the real thing any justice.

  At least a hundred dragons circled a single man, all of them embedded so deeply in the rock that they looked like carvings. They rose to the ceiling, circling and snarling. Bubbles of rock rose from the wall in immobile flames that roared from the beasts’ gaping mouths. Tails curled around claws, teeth shone in jagged spikes, and lidless eyes glared down at the newcomers in the tomb.

  Kara stepped into a puddle, which snapped her attention away from the wall. Dozens of small streams burrowed through the cavern, bubbling and churning on their way through their shallow riverbeds. They intertwined here and there, so that the end result was an elaborate combination of raised islands amidst foot-deep water that ambled toward a wide lake. The lake spanned the width of the cavern, its water deep, but more of the green crystals illuminated its depths where the sunlight failed.

  “That yakona was the last Blood of the Retrien kingdom.” Braeden nodded to the man frozen in the middle of the dragons. The Blood’s sword was raised above him, and a thin beam of rock ran upward from the blade’s tip into the dragons above. His face was a snarl, all the color and life long gone.

  “Yeah, I read about him,” Kara said

  “His entire bloodline was lost when he fought the dragons, so I doubt he meant to freeze himself in there.”

  “Where did his people go?”

  “Those that survived the battle vanished.” He shook his head, disappointed. “They were brilliant fighters and yet, they advocated peace and understanding. Force was always a last effort. Of all the kingdoms, they should have been the last to disappear.”

  The hair on her neck prickled, like someone was watching her.

  “Maybe they’re not altogether gone.” She glanced back at the lake, the watched feeling seeping into her shoulders and down along her spine. Shadows flickered through the green glow in the water.

  “What is that?”

  “The Lossians are here,” Braeden sa
id. “They must have been waiting for you.”

  More and more bodies blocked the rich green glow, until the lake’s clear depths plunged into darkness. The giant blue orbs of Lossian heads—some bald, others with shoulder-length black hair—began to break through the surface, all with identical seaweed-green eyes.

  The army waited while a single Lossian swam forward and walked onto the shore. He was about Braeden’s height, his thin form slightly more defined, and his bare webbed feet dripped over the rock as he approached. He smiled and the pointed grin of his mouth stretched from ear to ear in a long, curved line that reminded Kara of the Cheshire cat. His uniform was tight and gray, just one solid piece of fabric that reached from his elbows to his knees. Black stripes ran diagonally across his arms, and a matching black belt with a pack on it looped around his waist.

  “Welcome, young lady.” He glanced to Kara, his eyes passing her over just as quickly as his words. He bowed to Braeden and smiled. “And welcome, my brother! I am Duke Trin, and I’ve come to see the Vagabond to the kingdom of Losse. Tell me, has he been delayed?”

  Kara forced a stiff laugh and resisted the deep urge to sigh.

  “I’m the Vagabond,” she said.

  “We—” Duke Trin lost track of his words and froze, his mouth unhinging to gape at her for a few long seconds before he recovered and reigned-in his jaw.

  “Please forgive me.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “And what is your name, brother of Losse? How did you come to travel with—” The duke paused, shifting his large, disbelieving eyes back to Kara. “With the Vagabond?”

  “I am Asealo, my liege,” Braeden lied, arching his back to bow. His voice was twisted with a slight accent that hadn’t existed until the Duke spoke. He pulled a small blue orb from his pocket—the Lossian key Adele had given him—and offered it to Trin as proof of who he claimed to be. Trin nodded, apparently satisfied, and Braeden put the orb away as he continued speaking.

  “I live in the bordering village of Atao and came to see the Vagabond safely into the mighty Losse.”

  Wow, Kara thought. Lossians talk a lot.

  The Duke smiled. “You have done well, then. You may return to Atao.”

  “I asked—um—Asealo to join me in Losse,” Kara said, interjecting in an effort to get them both to stop with the pleasantries. She just wanted to get this over with, but the Duke snapped his wary eyes to her. His squint made her fidget.

  “I shall need proof of who you claim to be before I show you our home,” he commanded. “You’ll understand, of course.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I should very much like to see the Grimoire.” He sneered, his kind smile suddenly gone, and huffed as if it only an idiot couldn’t have guessed that much. “I’ve seen the drawings and will know it when, or if, I lay mine eyes upon it.”

  She nodded, trying to ignore his tone, and wished the book forward. The cloud of blue dust swarmed around her, and the heavy red cover materialized in her hands. A chorus of bubbles rose from the lake as more heads popped up to witness the Vagabond and her book, but she wished it back into its hiding place after Duke Trin was satisfied.

  “Anything else?” she asked with a smirk.

  “No. Thank you, Vagabond.” He pursed his lips. “But you must understand if you’re still not permitted to see the path which we take to the kingdom.” He pulled out a thin strip of black cloth and a great, pink starfish from the pack on his belt.

  “What—?”

  “You must wear these,” the Duke said.

  The starfish wriggled in his palm, its limbs twitching, and he lifted it to her mouth before she could refuse. It wrapped around her jaw and nose, its suckers clinging to her chin and cheeks. She gasped for air, but found that breathing came naturally despite the slippery suckers bruising her face. The Duke tied the sash around her eyes. All was dark.

  A small cracking sound came from behind her, as if Braeden had dropped a pebble and stepped on it.

  “I will guide her, Asealo,” the Duke said. A wet hand grabbed Kara’s arm and quickly ushered her through the thin streams. Water splashed over her boots.

  The floor sloped. The lake seeped through the seams in her shoes. Water lapped on the shore nearby as ripples broke across each other. Another distant whisper echoed somewhere in the recesses of the cavern. She walked forward, inch by inch, but the panic didn’t hit her until the water came up to her waist and the slope grew steeper. It was up to her chest, now. Her neck. She held her breath as the surface licked her ears and covered her head.

  The grip on her arm steered her when the ground disappeared. Her throat burned with the breath she’d trapped there. She couldn’t hold it any longer.

  Air pumped from her lungs, and she inhaled out of instinct, expecting a flood of water and the panic of drowning. But instead of terror, she breathed in relief. Oxygen filled her lungs, though it tasted like salt. She took deep breaths until her pulse slowed.

  The fingers holding her arm pushed and tugged, directing her around the obstacles she wasn’t allowed to see. They could have travelled for minutes or hours; she had no idea. She lost all track of time. Eventually, there was a sharp tug at the sash on her head, and it fell away.

  She gasped through her starfish.

  They swam through an open ocean, long gone from the submerged tunnels of the Villing Caves. The city of Losse was built into a string of reefs and sediment only a few hundred feet away. A tall and massive dome of golden light sprawled over it, running for miles over the ocean floor. A swarm of sharks circled the outskirts of the light, swimming just beyond the radiance so that its warm glow barely illuminated their underbellies.

  The Duke’s grip on her arm tightened as they entered the swarm. The sharks rolled their eyes to watch her pass, swimming closer. One brushed her with its fin, leaving the numb trail of its touch on her forearm. Another stalked her, matching her pace with the slow flicks of its tail. Trin’s grip on her arm tightened even more. No sudden movements, it said.

  She peered over her shoulder. The army swam just behind the Duke, blocking out the view of wherever they’d come from. Braeden was with them, but she couldn’t catch his eye. His gaze flitted from shark to shark as he brushed their noses, pushing them away with his palm if they came too close. The other soldiers did the same, though without the nervous expression.

  The Duke descended toward the base of the glowing arch, which gave Kara the chance to peer through the golden light to see the buildings within as they passed the city. Tall houses and shops, maybe a dozen or so stories high, lined the many streets. Rivers and small waterfalls pummeled over grass-covered hills and miniature cliffs in the distance. In the center of the city, stretching almost to the top of the vaulting light, was a glimmering palace built from the brilliant blue and red reef coral.

  Duke Trin drifted on the cold current and settled onto the ocean floor, pulling her down with him. Thin puffs of sand billowed from beneath their feet as they landed. A paved road began on the other side of the dome. The Duke walked through the wall of light without hesitation, dragging her through behind him.

  There was a draft of wind and, as it passed over her, the water clinging to her hair and clothes dissolved in a hot steam. The air inside the dome was perfect: cool, damp, and still. The Duke removed the starfish from her mouth, and Kara touched her face tenderly until her cheeks regained their feeling.

  A twitter of voices rushed around her as she entered. Dozens of Lossians lined the streets, all staring at her with their wide, green eyes as Trin marched her through the city. Those who had baskets set them on their hips as they gawked, while others tapped their neighbors’ shoulders, whispering as they stared at her. Nerves fluttered in Kara’s stomach, and she wanted to wave and laugh and leave all at the same time.

  Trin released his hold on her arm, guiding her now with a light pressure on her back, and escorted her along a road paved with polished shells and lined with buildings constructed from
pointed bricks of coral. More blue heads crowded the windows as she passed, pushing each other for the better view.

  It was at least a half hour’s walk to the palace, though she could easily see its turrets after her first step on the shell road. The endless avenue was lined with yakona, all of whom muttered in hushed tones as Kara and the Lossian army passed by. She began to ignore them after a while, her eyes locked on the castle instead.

  What a welcome.

  Finally, the front doors of the palace came into view. A massive flight of stairs led from them, glistening in the tawny dome’s warm glow, and thick railings curled away from the large, open doors in sloping arches.

  The main entrance led to a throne room with walls that glinted like mother of pearl and a ceiling that rounded out several stories above. Four pillars made of brightly-colored coral branched from the corners of the room and arched to meet in the center of the roof. They glowed in greens and reds and blues, casting a kaleidoscope of light across the walls and yakona below.