Tirren fired several shots at the gree’s skull, and the ivory fissured. This only angered it, and it began to whip its tail and paw at the air around it, trying to take a swipe at its attackers with its bone-sharp claws. Lyse grabbed Aren and Dane by their collars and pulled them out of its reach.
“More monsters!” Aren called out, pointing at the dark hole. The yellowing skull of yet another creature was trying to push through. “We’ve got to close the istoq!” Aren ran past the thrashing gree towards the void.
Gunshots resounded again and Tirren cursed, holstering his weapon. “I hit it straight through the eye socket. Nothing! How do we kill something that’s only half alive?” He pulled out a sword and ran to join Lyse and Dane.
Selina squirmed out of the Priestesses’ hold and ran to Aren, who was crouched near the Hunter who had been slain nearby. His voice was hoarse as he closed her eyelids. “May you hunt the stars.” Selina’s eyes filled with tears and she turned away, trying to stifle her sobs.
Aren hadn’t realized she was there, and when he heard her crying, he snapped back to the carnage and chaos going on around him. He stepped over the dead body to reach her, then pulled her close. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be here.”
“There’s another monster coming out.”
“I know. I have to figure out a way to close this.” He put her down behind a large chunk of fallen rock, shielding her as best he could.
“Do you know how? Do you know what it is?”
“It’s called an istoq in the Ancient tongue,” he said, examining the feathery edges of the void. “The stories say it can swallow your soul. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’m not about to take any chances. No one knows what it is, but it’s said to appear when an enormous amount of magic is used. The theory is the magic creates a tear that allows these creatures to come into our world. How did you know to stop the Priestesses?”
“The goddess told me,” she said as she watched him peer into the darkness.
“Any luck, Aren?” Dane yelled from across the room. Lyse and Tirren had all but gutted the gree. Black ooze covered the floor, and the stench of decaying flesh filled the air. Still, it bellowed and thrashed. Dane jumped clear of the rake of a massive claw.
“Not yet!”
Selina swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt dizzy, and the smell made her want to throw up. She gripped the remains of the stone wall to keep from falling over. She looked up and saw Nianni stepping over the debris and positioning herself behind the broken wall next to her.
“Priestess, you need to get her to shelter,” Aren said. “This creature will breach the istoq soon.”
“The what?”
“Not important,” Aren said. “Can you get her back to the worship room?”
“I think so. The other Priestesses said they could provide a distraction.”
“No!” Selina interrupted her. “No powers.”
“That’s what caused the istoq—the void—to open,” Aren began to explain.
Selina breathed long and deep, and in a voice not quite her own said, “Yes, that’s what caused it to open. The Priestesses’ powers, combined with the monster’s magic, tore open a gateway to the Undergod’s realm.”
Aren and Nianni exchanged glances, and Selina could feel their surprise and fear almost as clearly as she could feel the grit of broken stone beneath her fingertips. “You must close the istoq.”
ELEVEN
“The goddess!” Nianni said in awe. “Look at her eyes. Selina’s not here anymore.”
Aren grabbed Selina by the shoulders. “How do we close it? Stop hiding behind a little girl and close it for us.”
Nianni slapped him and he winced, glaring at her. “You don’t speak to the goddess like that!”
“Aren,” Selina said in her trancelike state, “remember the symbols. Your brothers can’t hold much longer. You’re so close to finding the answer. If I knew myself what it was, I would tell you.”
“What is she talking about?” Nianni asked.
“Symbols. How did the goddess know about…” He turned back towards the battle. Gryf and the Hunter called Jaye had taken the offensive and were now forcing the creature into submission, a furious barrage of blows from sword and spear raining down on it.
Meanwhile, Dane and Lyse were trying to take down the gree. They were covered in sweat, blood, and the inky-black tar that spilled from the gree’s flesh. Tirren lay still on the ground in a crimson heap, and Tenley moved to cover the Priestesses.
“Symbols,” the voice coming from Selina reminded Aren. “You’re so close to finding the key.” Then, she took in a sharp breath of air and crumpled like a wad of discarded parchment. Nianni caught her.
Selina took in another lungful of air and seemed to come back to life. She wiggled out of Nianni’s arms. “I can do this,” she said, looking at the void. “I know what to do.”
There was a deafening cry, and they all turned to look at the wraith Gryf was fighting. It kicked out, and Jaye was hit hard in the abdomen. She was hurled down the hall, and there was an agonizing crunch as she hit the floor. Lyse left Dane to join Gryf’s fight.
“Aren!” Dane called, dodging the gree’s charge. “Did you figure it out yet?”
“You work on the symbols and I’ll take care of this,” Selina said. She placed one small hand on the edge of the darkness and another on the stone-littered floor. Her voice was soft as the susurrus of the trees as she spoke, “I seek the power of Tiede, the secrets of the Wood.” Her eyes were glazed over, and a soft green light seemed to emanate from her hands.
Aren watched in awe as the istoq began to shrink and the creature that was trying to come out was pushed back. How was she doing it? Was this the work of the goddess? That had to be it. If the goddess could communicate with Selina, then she must be able to channel power through her as well. He didn’t have to worry about Selina right now; the goddess was working through her. He needed to concentrate on the fight. Hunters were dead, and his brothers would die too if he didn’t figure out how to kill the creature that was sent to destroy Vir.
It’s out to kill you now, dummy, he reminded himself.
He stared at the monster made of black, smoky tendrils and glowing red symbols. It was a message; he had figured that much out. The message was from the mages. The Houses were being taken down. Transcendence. Destroying the gods. To destroy the gods, you destroyed their people. Well, that was one thing Aren had going for him: he didn’t belong to the gods.
Dane cried out as he took a horn to the ribs. His sword flew out from his hands, clattering to the stone floor. The gree opened its gaping mouth and roared.
Aren glanced at Selina, who had managed to close the istoq to the point where it was only as wide as a man’s hand. She was covered in dirt and sweat, and the effort and energy she used to continue closing the portal was tremendous. He ached for her.
“Go,” Nianni said, her hands on Selina’s shoulders. “I’ll give her what strength I have.”
Aren nodded his thanks and ran towards Dane, picking up the sword in passing. His brother was curled up on his side, his eyes squeezed shut as he dealt with the pain. Aren dropped the sword and put a hand on his brother’s arm. “I’ll carry you back to where Lord Vir and Elder are. You’ll be safe there.”
“No,” Dane said through gritted teeth. “Be a Gerrit and pick up the damned blade so you can kill the gree.”
“You’re better than I am in a fight,” Aren argued, lifting the sword. “How am I supposed to—”
“Glad to hear you admit it,” Dane managed to laugh. “You’re faster and definitely better at using your brain. Figure it out.” Aren hesitated, and the gree bellowed again, lowering its head and preparing to charge. “Now! Before it rams us both!” Dane growled.
Aren steeled his resolve, then ran towards the gree with a knife in one hand and a sword in the other. He cried out as he charged it, hoping to pull its attention towards him and away from Dane. The gree comp
lied, swinging its massive head and turning towards its new adversary.
“Aren, what are you doing?” Gryf yelled as he blocked the wraith’s strikes.
“The eyes!” Nianni screamed at Aren as he sidestepped the charge. “Selina says it’s the eyes! Actually, it’s not quite Selina.”
“The eyes,” he echoed, watching the gree prepare itself for another charge. “Magic opens the istoq. The creatures are magic-fed. Magic is quelled by”—the gree lowered its head and aimed—“the gods,” he whispered.
“Move, Aren!” Dane yelled.
Aren held out his blades, one shorter than the other, but it would have to do. He shifted so that his left hand—the hand holding the knife—was extended. “I was never blessed,” he muttered. “But may the gods steady my hands now.”
The gree was closing in, and Aren touched the sword to the knife, naming one Light and the other Night, then drew the sword back over his head, extending his kal evenly into the blades. The gree was on him, and he thrust the sword into the empty eye socket, following it with the knife to the other eye. He expected the blades to cut through the space the way Tirren’s bullets did, but he hoped they would at least catch on bone as he rolled out of the gree’s path. Instead, he felt resistance as the blades found purchase in the skull, and he was so surprised, he almost forgot to move.
“Is that…?” Vir asked. He had come out to assess the situation, unable to wait behind his remaining Hunters any longer.
“Uniting the Heavens,” Dane responded, awe in his voice. “A rough and sloppy variation of it, anyway.”
The gree roared in agony, and the black blood began to stream from its empty eyes like tears. Aren steadied his breathing, wiped his palms on the front of his pants, then rushed towards it. He jumped at the skull, grabbing at the hilts that stuck out from the creature’s eye sockets, and pulled himself up and over its head. He straddled its bony shoulders and dug in with his heels. It tried to throw him, but he reached for the blades and managed to hold on.
When the bucking slowed, he pulled the blades out. Blood sprayed the halls and he wasted no time. He was moving on instinct now, and once again he touched the blades to each other. With a deep breath, he plunged them into the back of the gree’s neck, into the space between the skull and the furry, fleshy body. It buckled, its front paws giving way, and calling on all of his strength, Aren ripped the blades away from each other, severing its head. The skull fell to the floor, cracking along the forehead and one of the cheekbones. The body fell to the side, taking Aren down with it. He didn’t have the energy to tuck into a roll, and his left shoulder took the brunt of the fall, sending currents of pain coursing up to his teeth and head and down to his hip. He cried out in agony and thought he might black out.
“Apprentice,” Vir’s voice. He sounded close, and Aren wondered how that could be. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Selina closed the void and you killed the gree!” Dane said.
Aren opened his eyes. Vir and two Hunters were looming over him. Dane was crouched next to him, his breathing ragged, an arm hugging his ribs. He looked bad, but the crazy grin on his face made Aren want to laugh. Instead, he coughed, tasting blood and bile in his mouth.
“Let’s get these boys back to safety,” Vir ordered.
“No,” Aren choked. “Gryf…”
“You’re in no condition to do anything, and they’re trying to wear the creature down before it comes after you,” Vir said.
“That monster can’t be killed with a sword.” Aren said, pushing himself up.
“Aren!” Selina cried out. They all turned to look where she sat slumped against the wall next to Nianni and the dead Hunter. “The goddess said to tell you that Magic is older than Ancient, but the faith behind Ancient is more powerful.”
Every eye seemed to turn to Aren, and he furrowed his brows. “Tell the goddess to get her divine ass here right now—”
Before he could register the horror on Nianni’s face at his blasphemous words, a vine lashed out, wrapped itself around Selina’s torso and whipped her small body back towards the monster. Aren yelled in protest as he jumped to his feet to attack. He got as far as Gryf, who held him back with one rough hand tight on his upper arm.
“He’ll hurt her,” Gryf mumbled, tightening his grip.
The monster held Selina close, the edge of its crimson blade pressed diagonally against her jaw and neck. Bright red blistered through her dirty skin, and she did her best to be still, stifling her sobs.
Aren, the sound slipped from the place where the creature’s mouth might be, and it tilted its head to look at him. Its voice was as dark as the smoky tendrils that surrounded its decaying flesh, as rough and sharp as the bones and claws that were its weapons. It spoke in Ancient. You play games with me, boy. You hide behind magic to trick me, make me believe we’re of the same maker. You surround yourself with magic, and it protected you from me. The magic clings to you.
“What are you talking about?” Aren managed to ask, able to speak only in Common.
You change spells, weaving the words as if the language was your own, but you used the power to save Tiede Vir. You betrayed me and our kind. You’re an impostor, and you keep the company of gods and their pets. It narrowed its eyes at Gryf.
Aren looked to Selina, her frightened violet eyes full of tears. He felt something pressed into his hand. A hilt. A knife. It was warm, and as was his habit, his thumb caressed the blade’s heel, finding comfort in the Guardian constellation engraved into the steel. He felt his resolve strengthen. “Your fight is with me, and you’re bound by the spell. Let her go, and take me instead.”
Why do you serve these weaklings? You’re more powerful than they. The monster slid its blade across Selina’s skin, and she cried out.
“Stop!” Aren choked. “My death, not hers, ends the spell.”
I think her death would be yours as well, the creature said, switching to Old Magic.
“You don’t need her to get to me,” Aren responded, his mind racing to translate. “There must be some exchange we can make.”
An exchange. I want this power of yours. Explain how you are magic, but not mage. Tell me where you’re from.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I come from nothing,” Aren said, wishing it would switch back to Common. His brain was trying to do several things at once, and the translating was slowing him down. “I was found near Tiede Wood. I was little more than an infant.” The monster seemed to consider this, and as it did, the symbols on its upper arm glowed and burned. “My birth parents wanted nothing to do with me.” He felt a pain in his chest as he said the words out loud, felt the truth of it reverberate through his bones. “You think I have power but you’re wrong. I’m nothing and have nothing but that little girl and my adopted family. I have no history, no bloodlines. I have no blessings from any god, so even my fate, my future, is worthless.”
You lie, boy, the creature said, this time with less certainty.
“Do I?” Aren did laugh this time, but it was bitter and full of a hurt that he had worked hard to keep locked up. His head was throbbing, and the voices were whispering to him again. Stars, this wasn’t the time to be haunted by the Wood. He took a deep breath to let the voices pass through him, but still they whispered and he felt his anxiety growing.
Thank you, Aren! The voice belonged to a child, a little girl.
“Who said that?” he asked, looking around, waving the knife. The creature cocked its head at him. There were giggles and the happy sounds of small children playing, chasing each other through the halls. A shiver passed over him, and cold sweat rolled over his face.
“Aren,” came Gryf’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
I’m so happy you found my dolls! Thank you so much!
“Lady Lis?” Aren half laughed, wondering if he’d finally gone mad. “And your brother? Lord Lars?”
Listen, Aren… The voice of the little Lordling. Listen carefully…
Aren compli
ed as the currents of wind danced around him, bringing him messages from the Wood, translating the magic, bending the rules.
A name, Lars said. The Lady says you can control it with a name.
The creature screamed, cutting through Aren’s delusions. Tell me what you are before I gut you and the child!
Aren felt as though the gears in his head had come to a screeching halt. The voices continued whispering, and he stared in pain as Selina’s blood dribbled over the creature’s blade. He felt raw anger rising within him. He had had enough. “I am nothing!” Aren yanked at the front of his shirt, tearing off the buttons. Then, he pulled a sleeve down to expose a shoulder and the cuts that had been reopened. “You say I have magic. Where are my marks? I don’t belong, Tsalmit. I don’t belong to the gods or the mages. Now, tell me I’m lying!” he screamed.
The monster’s limbs went slack, as did the vine holding Selina. She fell to the ground with a resounding thud, and Aren rushed to her. Her skin was as white as the mermaid in the fountain, and blood spilled like water from the cuts on her face and neck. He dropped his knife, then pulled his shirt off and began to bandage the wound. Crimson flowered into the white linen, and he cursed, pulling her close to him. Her body was shaking.
“Selina,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ll fix this, all right? Just open your eyes for me. I’ll fix this. Please don’t leave me.”
“Aren,” Gryf said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She needs a doctor. Give her to Lyse. Something’s changed and I need you to focus.”
Aren looked up as he swiped at his eyes. Gryf moved to a defensive stance, watching the creature, who seemed frozen in place. Lyse was crouched next to Aren, her arms open. He felt dizzy and wondered if he was going to black out again. Maybe this was all just a really bad dream.
The creature stirred and looked at them. How did you learn my name?
“Aren, if you want to save Selina’s life, hand her to Lyse right now, or I will kick your ass before I move on to your friend here.”
Aren moved as if in a trance, placing a kiss on Selina’s sweaty forehead before handing her limp body over to Lyse. He watched as Lyse scurried away, Selina cradled in her arms. He had little to do with the gods, but he found himself mumbling a prayer for Selina’s life. Take me instead. Let her live.
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