Descent

by Charlotte McConaghy

  ‘Then prove it. Stop being a scared little boy. Stop telling me you love me, and actually love me!’

  She flung the words at him and watched as they hit. His eyes lit up with flames. He took a shaky breath, and then, grabbing her by the arms, he thrust an angry kiss on her lips. Furious, Jane pulled away and started to hit him over and over again in the chest. He endured, his jaw tight, the flames in his eyes jumping.

  ‘How dare you!’ she screamed. ‘You can’t just—’

  But she didn’t get any further, because he kissed her again, and it came to her then, the memory of his lips against hers, the feeling of being in his embrace. Her arms went around his neck urgently, and his hands moved to her back, pressing her against him.

  But suddenly he froze, wrenching himself away from her.

  ‘ Wait!’ he hissed. A long, straight sword had materialised in his hand and he moved quickly into an alert stance, letting go of her so abruptly that she stumbled. He eyed everything around him warily. Jane’s heart was beating too fast, her hands still trembling with anger and love and sadness all at once. She struggled to calm down. There was silence in the forest. Calm down, she told herself. Calm down and focus on what you are here for!

  ‘Why would I have a sword if I didn’t need to use it?’ Fern muttered, still looking carefully around him.

  In that moment he spotted something a short distance to his left.

  There in the grass was a pure white stag with huge antlers and dark, liquid eyes.

  A cry caught in Fern’s throat. Jane turned to see what he was staring at and she gasped in horror.

  The white pelt of the stag was covered in blood.

  They ran to the beast and knelt down beside it. Its breathing was shallow, its chest heaving. Fern had never seen such a creature. So large and proud, even in its dying pain.

  There was a huge gash in its chest, and blood was oozing steadily out of it.

  He looked at the sword slowly. Jane saw him do so and shut her eyes.

  ‘No, Fern—don’t.’

  ‘I have to,’ he said softly, knowing it was the only thing they could do.

  ‘No, wait,’ Jane said desperately. She leant in closer to the beast to see the wound. She touched it gently, noting the depth and size of it.

  ‘It isn’t that deep, Fern. I might be able to save it. Find something to bind the wound with.’

  He looked at her, knowing what she proposed was completely useless. He nodded though, and turned to help her.

  Jane looked desperately down at her linen dress, and sighed as she ripped off the hem and tied it around the animal.

  She sat back and looked at the stag. ‘I don’t think there’s anything more I can do. We’ll just have to hope that the wound heals before it starves to death.’

  Fern nodded. They walked back to the path. ‘Jane,’ he said lightly, ‘wait here for a moment, I need to go ... relieve myself.’

  ‘Now? We’re trapped in a nightmare and you need to go to the loo?’

  He just shrugged. ‘Don’t move from this exact spot. Promise?’

  ‘I won’t move an inch. Just hurry!’

  Fern retraced their steps back into the forest and found the stag. The poor beast was distraught, breathing shallowly. The dressing wasn’t going to do anything—not without food and water and care.

  Slowly he raised the sword. He was certain that the stag was here for precisely this reason—to unsettle him, to make everything harder. He could easily just walk away. But he was who he was, and even though none of this was real, he wouldn’t feel right about leaving something so clearly in pain. So with one swift movement, he severed the mighty animal’s neck, killing it instantly and ceasing the sounds of its whimpers. Blood poured out onto the grass, and though Fern had seen his fair share of violence, this was somehow deeply saddening.

  Kings of the forest, stags were called in most countries of Paragor. A myth, like the unicorn had been until very recently. Beautiful in a way that was indescribable. And he had just slaughtered one.

  Slowly he trudged back to the path, his footsteps heavy. ‘Jane,’ he said to her back, but she didn’t turn at the sound of her name. She didn’t even move.

  ‘Jane,’ he said more loudly, reaching out to touch her. But something stopped his hand mid-air, as though there was an invisible wall dividing them. ‘Jane!’ he shouted, pushing against the barrier. She turned this time, but her eyes stared straight through him as if he wasn’t there.

  ‘Fern?’ she shouted, looking into the forest behind him. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Jane! I’m right here!’ he tried, a cold feeling making its way in to his stomach.

  ‘Fern?’ she cried again, and this time there was panic in her voice. Fern swore loudly, trying to beat his fists against the invisible wall. It was unbreakable, and no matter how much noise he made she could not hear him. It also, as he found out quickly, wrapped the entire way around her, blocking him from every angle.

  ‘Gods,’ he muttered, telling himself to stay calm. Clearly Jane was trying to do the same, taking deep breaths, but her eyes as they searched were frantic.

  ‘Don’t leave the path,’ he urged her softly.

  Jane bit her lip, calling out to him again and again to no avail. Frustrated tears formed in her eyes, but she didn’t shed them—instead she gritted her teeth and stepped off the path.

  ‘No!’ he cried watching as she ran into the dark forest. Fern followed, trying again and again to get her attention. But as she came across the stag and saw the mess of its death, a sense of deep panic took over.

  ‘ Fern!’ she cried, sinking to her knees. ‘Don’t leave me! Please! I can’t do this on my own!’

  Fern could think of nothing. His heart aching, he sank to the ground next to her, wishing he could touch her, willing her to know he was there beside her.

  ‘I’m here,’ he whispered. ‘I’m not going to leave you.’

  A tear seeped out of Jane’s eye, and he watched as she sat, terrified and alone. And then he watched as Jane wiped the tear from her cheek angrily, her expression focusing into one of determination.

  He moved around in front of her so that he could imagine she was looking at him and not through him.

  ‘If I have to do this alone, then I will,’ she whispered into the air, very softly, her jaw clenched fiercely. ‘I’ll do it for you.’

  An unchecked, unhindered smile spread across Fern’s face. He’d never been so proud of someone in all his life.

  It was in that moment that Jane gasped, her eyes focusing on his face.

  He blinked. ‘Jane?’

  ‘Fern!’ she cried, flinging herself on top of him. ‘You’re here!’

  ‘Thank the gods,’ he sighed, hugging her. ‘I’ve been here all along. You just couldn’t see me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve been watching you the whole time.’

  She pulled away from him and blushed. ‘Great. That’s not at all embarrassing,’ she muttered, standing up briskly.

  ‘Both kinds of nightmares,’ he said softly. ‘Abandonment and powerlessness.’

  She nodded slowly, taking a breath. ‘I think we should keep moving.’

  They walked back to the path and set off once more, both wordlessly agreeing not to talk about what had happened.

  After a while she took his hand in hers.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, oddly startled. His thoughts had been miles away.

  ‘I don’t want us to get separated.’ And then she added with a gentle smile, ‘And to make sure you aren’t scared.’

  Their eyes met, and after a moment he smiled in return.

  They walked for a long time. Nothing changed: there was only darkness, red sky and the skeletons of trees. Finally Jane stopped, frustrated and very tired.

  ‘What are we supposed to do, Fern? I want to get out of here. I don’t like this place—it’s beyond creepy.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. The point, I think, is to tire us out. To put us o
n edge. So we have to stay calm and keep going.’

  When they turned back to the path they spotted a shape in the distance, running along the length of the horizon. As they walked closer they saw that it was a looming metal wall, with two huge gates in the centre. The gates were locked, and the wall seemed to stretch for miles on either side.

  Fern tried knocking, then banging on the metal, but it was so thick that he doubted any sound could be heard on the other side. Then, from out of nowhere, a rope was in Jane’s hand. She showed it to Fern, and he was about to throw it over the wall when she had a thought.

  ‘Wait! This is too easy, Fern. It doesn’t feel right.’

  ‘Why else would this be here if not to be used?’ he asked, looking speculatively at the rope, then the wall, then Jane.

  She shivered slightly. ‘I don’t know.’

  He frowned. ‘How else are we going to get past? There’s no other way.’

  She shrugged but looked around apprehensively. Fern threw the rope with all his strength, and the first few times it fell short of the top. Finally, after he had cursed and sworn for a while, his fifth throw of the rope made it over the wall and snagged on something.

  ‘What’s holding it?’ Jane asked, straining her neck to see.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, tugging on it. It seemed to hold, so he said, ‘Climb onto my back.’

  Jane hesitated, but climbed on to Fern, holding on tightly.

  ‘This is very weird,’ she muttered

  ‘Jane,’ Fern said in a strangled voice. ‘Less tight around the neck!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, loosening her hold. Just then there was a strange, whooshing sound, and Jane had an odd sensation, as though she was falling. Looking down, she was horrified to see the ground fall away.

  Fern gasped, his legs dangling precariously. His shoulders wrenched painfully as he clung to the rope, and Jane screamed, the movement shaking her grip on Fern’s neck. Unbalanced, she slipped down his back. Fern spun to catch her just in time, one arm holding onto the rope now, his other straining with the effort of hanging onto her.

  Below them was a mighty chasm of fire, as if the core of the earth had opened up beneath them.

  Sweat trickled from Fern’s brow as he heaved Jane up with as much strength as he could muster. She grabbed hold of his legs, latching on so that he could free his second hand for the rope.

  ‘Hold on!’ he yelled over the roar of the flames.

  ‘Go Fern! You can do it!’ she cried, closing her eyes and hanging on desperately. Slowly and agonisingly, he pulled the two of them up the rope, arm over arm, his muscles straining with the effort.

  Jane looked up to see how far they had to go when all of a sudden a door appeared in the wall directly above them. The rope disappeared beneath the closed door, but Fern couldn’t get it open, both hands clinging to the rope. They were stuck, could go neither up nor down.

  ‘I’m going to climb up your back!’ Jane shouted. ‘Maybe I can get it open!’

  She started scrambling up his legs, holding onto his waist. It was horribly difficult, as she’d never had much upper body strength. Vowing that if they ever got out of this alive, she was going to turn herself into a female body-builder, Jane heaved herself up to Fern’s shoulders.

  Reaching wildly she hit the door, pounding against it with her fist. Miraculously, it slid open a fraction, and a head popped out.

  ‘Please!’ Jane cried. ‘Help us!’

  The door slid open a little more, and the head popped out again, wide-eyed and wary. The face was unrecognisable—Jane couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman.

  ‘Password?’ it asked.

  ‘Are you insane?’ Fern gasped, grunting with the effort of holding on. ‘We’re about to fall!’

  There was no response.

  ‘We don’t know the password,’ Jane whispered.

  ‘No password, no entry,’ it said, starting to close the door.

  ‘Wait,’ Jane cried. ‘We’re lost and we need help. There shouldn’t be—’ She didn’t finish because the door swung open wide, and tiny hands reached down and pulled them through as though they weighed nothing at all.

  Jane and Fern fell to the floor, gasping as the sound of the flames was cut off with the closing of the door.

  ‘You okay?’ Jane asked quickly, rising to her feet. Fern nodded wearily, needing a few extra moments before he could stand.

  They were no longer in a forest, but a huge stone hall, held up with pillars so tall they disappeared into darkness. They looked at the person who had let them in and Jane gasped.

  It was a man after all, if such a thing could be called that. His chest was bare, and he had tight curly hair on his head. But below the waist he had goat’s legs, covered in tight, curly black fur, with a short stubby tail and joints in the wrong places. On his head were tiny white horns, and he had bright blue, staring eyes. Jane realised he was a satyr.

  ‘Where ... where are we?’ Jane whispered and even the softest of noises echoed throughout the enormous chamber. ‘And why did you let us in?’

  ‘You are in the hall of the lost,’ the satyr replied and his voice was shadowed with age. ‘It is where everyone who loses their way in life ends up. I let you in because you said you were lost.’

  ‘Why is it empty?’ Fern asked.

  ‘It is only empty for those who cannot see what is in front of their eyes.’

  Jane turned to look at the vast and definitely empty chamber, at the same moment that Fern realised he recognised this hall. It was the place in which he had battled the war god for two straight years. The inescapable place. A slow feeling of dread settled in his stomach, but he instinctively said nothing.

  Jane walked a few steps into the space and craned her neck to try and see the roof, but all the walls disappeared into shadow. ‘So ... what do we do?’

  Fern shrugged but the satyr walked forward, his hooves clicking on the marble floor.

  ‘If you can find your way out, you will never be lost again,’ it said.

  ‘All right,’ Jane said, turning back to the satyr. ‘Then we just start walking?’

  ‘If you want—though you cannot pass back through the door you came—it leads to a place that does not exist anymore.’

  ‘Where exactly is the hall of the lost?’ Fern asked slowly.

  ‘It is within your minds, its boundaries only those you can think up yourself. But beware—it holds every thought you’ve ever had.’

  ‘So if we get trapped we’ll never wake up,’ Jane said flatly.

  ‘I know nothing about where you came from—I only open the door,’ the satyr said morosely.

  Jane nodded and turned to start walking.

  ‘But we have two minds—how are we in the same cavern?’ Fern asked, pausing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the creature replied. He seemed truly baffled. ‘You might see things from both your mind and hers.’

  Fern nodded, thanked the creature and ran after Jane. She took a torch from the wall as they walked, and soon they were surrounded by a mist of darkness. Not being able to see anything outside of their tiny circle of light was very unnerving.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ she whispered. ‘Was that thing real? Is this place real? I mean, I thought we were within a nightmare that the Valkyries were creating for us. I didn’t realise we could be somewhere where other people have been!’

  Fern frowned. ‘We don’t know that’s the case. It could be more illusions. A trick to scare us. Or it could be a real place that the Valkyries send everyone.’

  More pillars emerged from the darkness. After a few moments, Jane whispered, ‘Should we start looking for a door, or another passage or something?’

  ‘I don’t think it will be that easy. Do you know how much could be in this hall? If it knows everything in both our minds, then we could be inundated with anything we have experienced, imagined, or even dreamed.’

  Jane laughed nervously. ‘That narrows it down. It will only be th
ings that frighten us. Things that make us lose our way.’

  Fern felt a shiver run down his spine, and he moved slightly closer to Jane.

  But just then, out of the air above, came a shadow, a cloud of growing, pulsing darkness, and it was descending on Jane rapidly.

  Fern was paralysed from the neck down, unable to move and unable to stop what was unfolding.

  He tried to call out to warn her, but his mouth froze and no words came out. She was going to be consumed, and she hadn’t even realised he’d stopped walking! All he could do was watch as it drew closer and closer to her. Then suddenly, as the edge of the blackness touched her skin, she twirled and banished it with a flick of her wrist. And he was free again.

  ‘What did you do?’ he asked, trying hard to slow his frantically beating heart.

  ‘What do you mean what did I do?’ she said, looking at him carefully.

  ‘The cloud of black! How did you get rid of it?’

  ‘What cloud? Fern, are you all right?’

  He breathed in deeply and tried to think about what had just happened. The cloud had seemed so hurtful and dark. And yet she had dismissed it with a hand movement. Why had he been so frightened?

  Because he had not been able to protect her. It was the same thing again.

  She looked at him slowly. ‘Another threat you couldn’t protect me from. You do understand what this means, Fern, don’t you? You have no faith in my ability to protect myself. You’ve got to put some trust in me, or it’s going to drive you mad.’

  Chapter 44

  Anna, Harry and Luca stood atop the battlements of the palace in Amalia, staring down at the wall of the city. The sun was rising over the ocean, casting a beautiful orange light over everything.

  It had been a very long night.

  Their shoulders were slumped, and their eyes were circled by dark hollows. But they watched the wall unwaveringly.

  It was too high for them to see the hundreds of soldiers that stood on the other side, readying themselves to remove the protectors.

  The orders were given, and the tiny threads of sparkling Elvish mesh whipped through the air, retracting from every side of the city, shrivelling down to tiny lengths that could be held in one hand. Even though they had hardly been visible, the sky now seemed empty.