The Labyrinth of the Dead

by Sara M. Harvey

  "You make it sound far too simple, my dear."

  "Not so. I know there are things here that you can see and I cannot. I know you have found your way through the under-side quite easily and evaded the queen’s snares. I have great faith that you can find your way to the sanctuary of Salus."

  "Is there only one?"

  "Only one that matters. Only one that has the power to keep someone like you safe from someone like her."

  "The queen?"

  Kanika nodded.

  "I wish I understood what she wanted from me."

  "Angels never die and Nephilim never come here. I am certain that she finds you a curiosity."

  "But you said Imogen was here."

  "And if she is to be found, then she’ll be in the sanctuary. Let’s go." She tugged Portia’s sleeve.

  The thrum of her breastbone rose in intensity, seeming to confirm Kanika’s suggestion of where Imogen could be found. "The nights are bad here, as well?"

  "There are dangerous things everywhere. Most of them live here. What you saw in the shadow-Penemue was a delightful tea time with sparrows and butterflies compared to what lurks here after dark. The Queen of the Here-After is forever hungry, and her minions go a-hunting at night for unwary travelers." Kanika slipped her arm through Portia’s, and together they walked between the battered gates. "But you won’t have anything to be afraid of, my sweet. Not you, you have nothing to fear."

  Portia feigned a cool demeanor, but her wings fluttered nervously, sending a nip of pain through her entire right side each time the injured one twitched.

  Great, crumbling façades flanked them, interrupted only by moldering courtyards and cross streets paved unevenly with flagstones, cobbles, and tar. The sky above was lit a lurid orange and purple; Portia wondered how they would tell when night had descended. The low growl of engines accompanied them everywhere they walked, from the broad central street to the smaller roadways that diverged from it. The city was desolate but enthralling.

  "Have you been here before?" Portia asked. "To Salus?"

  "Once." Kanika’s forehead pinched a moment, and she shook her head. "Only once, but trust me, that was enough."

  "But you went through a lot of trouble to come back."

  She paused and pretended to be engrossed in deciding which street to take next. "Sometimes…things happen and you think that what you’re doing is a good idea. You think that what you are risking is worth the reward." She glanced surreptitiously back at Portia. "I’m sure you know what that’s like."

  "I do. Where to next?"

  She kicked at a loose cobblestone and shrugged. "I’m so turned around. It isn’t the same as it was before. I thought I knew the way."

  "Not the same?"

  "No. The roads, they rearrange themselves sometimes."

  "How so?"

  "Hear that?" She tapped her heel on the ground, indicating the ubiquitous rumble. "It’s what keeps the island floating. But sometimes, it has…hiccups."

  "Hiccups?"

  "It stalls out and streets vanish or shift places. I think it happens when it has an interruption in fuel."

  Portia was almost afraid to ask. "What does it run on?"

  Kanika pressed her lips into a thin line and pulled out one of her coins. "This."

  "Shadow-gold?"

  "Yes. Some of it is fired with gold, but it works better with a whole soul, compressed like coal into a little glowing ember and fed into the engines."

  Portia’s eyes widened and she realized what the queen might want with her. "We need to find Imogen, and we need to find her now."

  "I swear it was here before!"

  "So help me, if you have led me astray on purpose, Kanika, you had better hope you end up in the belly of that engine, because I guarantee that will be a far more pleasant way to die than what I’ve got planned."

  Kanika shrank away from Portia’s glowing fury. "It was here," she choked out. "I remember. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t lie to you." The glimmer of what Portia was beginning to recognize as the real Kanika shone across the girl’s face.

  Portia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She stroked the medallions hanging from her neck. Their guiding light had faded into nothing as soon as she had set foot on the island. She poured energy into them, but they gave her nothing in return.

  "Ask the axe."

  Portia opened her eyes and regarded Kanika warily. "Why would it know?"

  "It was made here. It was forged and fused with souls. What they know, it knows." She said the words so matter-of-factly. Fused with souls.

  The thing in her hand felt suddenly heavy. "It’s made with what?"

  "Souls. Same as everything on the island. Same as the island itself. Souls." Kanika kicked the cobble loose. "Souls." She tore a shingle from the side of the building on the corner. "The sea was empty once and the queen forged every inch of this place herself. The engine is made from souls and runs on souls. They are the only thing real in this world." She dropped the shingle and it splintered as it fell, giving off a silent wisp of light.

  Portia flinched. She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment two figures glided around the corner. A spectral man and woman came face to face with them and stepped back in terror. They were murky and insubstantial, a far cry from Kanika’s solid body and her own imposing presence. The couple turned and skimmed away, glancing feverishly behind them. Portia took a step to follow, but Kanika gripped her arm.

  The girl raised a finger to her lips and tilted her head to one side. From somewhere down the shadow-filled street, Portia heard the baying of a hound. A long, low whistle followed, like the cry of a tea kettle.

  Kanika’s eyes grew wide and she whirled Portia around. "Go!"

  "Go where?"

  "Away from here!" Kanika broke into a run and Portia followed. "If the patrol catches us, it’ll be over. For us both!"

  A woman’s cry rose up through the crooked streets, but they did not dare look back.

  "Sanctuary," Kanika gasped. "Find it. Ask the axe. It’ll know." She pointed to the coin hanging from the bottom. "They won’t be able to follow us there!"

  "Lead us to a sanctuary where we can pass the night in safety," Portia said as she ran. The coin began to twist slowly at first, then it arced outward, tugging at the axe-handle. It was passing strange to watch the coin swing and pull in opposition to the jouncing of the axe.

  They ran between two tall buildings, the tops of which had come to rest against one another, forming a large, creaking arch. Faces pressed against the windows, gazing mournfully down at them. The keening followed their flight, echoing harshly from every surface around them. Whatever creature made that terrible sound was gaining on them, and its kettle-whistle companion was not far behind.

  They followed the insistent pull of the coin through the ruined streets. They ran down wide avenues and clambered across black gardens studded with statues. Whichever way the coin tugged, they went, often doubling back on their trail and bringing them perilously close to their pursuers. The crisscrossing trail seemed to confuse them. Portia silently thanked the force at work within the coin and immediately felt a surge of warmth flow through her.

  A long row of factories rose up on one side of the street, several of them flickering with what looked like firelight from behind the shuttered windows. With each flare of light, a sound—nearly beyond hearing—accosted Portia’s ears.

  "Don’t listen," Kanika whispered, pulling Portia along as she slowed her steps. "It will drive you mad."

  They paused in the shadow of a building for a moment, the sounds of their pursuers far off for the time being. "That’s where they do it. Where they render the souls."

  Kanika nodded in agreement.

  "How many are consumed there?"

  The girl’s eyes flickered toward the façades and she pondered a lie. "I don’t know exactly," she said at last. "I wasn’t among them for that long. I do know they roam every night and bring back all that they can catch. Sometimes none, sometimes
twenty, but most often about a half dozen."

  "Every night?"

  "Yes. Many people die around the world every day."

  Portia shook her head. "Don’t they know not to come here? Aren’t they warned on the shadow-side?"

  "No one comes here on purpose. Except you."

  "And you."

  "I was following you, Portia. Most souls stumble here by mistake. There are so many paths to take, and her majesty makes sure that many of them lead here."

  Portia took a step toward one of the buildings. Mortar crumbled from between bricks as the giant machinery groaned and shuddered within. She touched the wall, feeling the vibration of the mechanism inside, but also the gentle reverberation of the being that had once lived and breathed.

  "Each building makes a different thing," Kanika explained. "I hear some souls are better for some things than others. So they bring the souls in to a central hub and pipe them through underground tubes to the appropriate factories. Some mint coins, others press embers, but most of them are where the everyday things get made: cobbles and fence posts and window glass." She patted the wall. "And bricks."

  "Then what do they make there?" Portia pointed to a lone structure that stood at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was as if light itself was being drawn into its core, sucking it between each brick and around the edges of all the windows. A faint odor of brimstone and sulphur flirted with the wind.

  Kanika shook her head, withdrawing. "Dark things, bleak things."

  "Darker than creating stones and doorknobs from souls?"

  The coin yanked down on the leather cord and the axe shaft slid against Portia’s palm. They heard footsteps, substantial and rushed, heading toward them. There was no time to ponder the secrets behind that imposing façade.

  Beyond the row of factories, the buildings grew smaller and shabbier, interspersed with overgrown and rotting gardens. The coin directed them to a narrow track that cut between two of the fields. They followed the path, tripping over loose stones and strands of stinging vines.

  A wrought iron garden gate rose up out of the shadows, set into a wall that could have belonged to a pleasant country estate fallen into quaint disrepair. The gracefully scalloped shape showed no signs of decay. That immediately caught Portia’s notice. It also smelled different. The musky, rust-tinged odor she had noticed clinging to everything else on the island was not present here. The breeze that floated over the wall smelled of water and freshly cut grass.

  Vines had climbed onto every surface, including the arched gate, and it took some doing to maneuver the latch without being stung too severely. As Portia pushed open the gate, she felt another barrier. This one was subtle, far more so than the vines. There was a ward on the place; she could taste it like a bitter herb on the back of her tongue. It gave no resistance as she entered the walled garden that lay beyond.

  Kanika hesitated, her attention diverted behind, her down the slope of path. The sky had darkened to a murky mauve-brown. "They’re here, now. They’ve found us."

  Following her gaze, Portia could see the silhouettes of beings moving through the streets. They were nearly silent, feet whispering on the stones as they passed. They seemed human in shape, but yet they were quiet and disturbingly different somehow. These were accompanied by the hulking shapes of what looked like large black wolves. The patrols moved quickly through the eternal dusk. Several of them headed up the path, accompanied by the disquieting baying of the wolf-like creature that pulled at its chain.

  Portia motioned across the threshold. "Kanika, come on."

  The girl resisted, eyes flitting fearfully over the open gateway as if she could see the shimmering ward. "I don’t know…I don’t know if I can cross that."

  "I can’t see why not. Come on!" Portia reached through the ward and grabbed the girl, pulling her past it before they could be seen by the beings below.

  There was a breathless moment as Kanika fetched up against the ward like a fly in a spider’s web. Portia pulled hard and the girl fell through the invisible shield into Portia’s arms. Kanika’s body pressed eagerly against her for a moment that lingered just a bit too long.

  "There, now. That wasn’t so hard. You’re here where it’s safe." Portia stepped away from her and gave her a firm, platonic squeeze of the shoulder.

  "Yes," Kanika replied breathlessly. "Safe." She glanced back at the gate. "Let’s get out of sight. I’d rather not rouse their alarm."

  Together they pushed the gate closed and sank into the tall shrubs just within the wall. What emerged from the darkness might have passed for human many yards away, but up close, it was a terrifying sight: a genderless being in a stained tunic with deathly pale skin tinged a sickly yellow. Its two eyes were gone, and in their stead a single telescope lens had been inserted into the forehead. Portia could hear the whirs and clicks as it focused. A metal plate fitted with dozens of small holes covered the mouth and nose area and wheezed with the creature’s breath. The dire hound at its side bayed again and lurched toward the gate. Its master yanked back hard on the chain, sending the thing sprawling to the ground with a heavy thump.

  The telescope clicked several times as the creature scanned the courtyard beyond the wall. It reached a hand toward them—a hand rubbed raw and nearly devoid of skin. The tissue pulsed as it drew near to the warded barrier, and the creature retreated a step. It rumbled low in its throat and turned away, dragging the protesting hound.

  "Herder," Kanika whispered. "That was a herder. They are the trackers, finding their quarry and flushing it into the open for the reapers to catch. You might outrun one of them, but not the dire-hound." She shivered and Portia could smell true fear on her.

  "Have you had a run-in with one of them?"

  "Once."

  "Will it come back for us? Bring others, perhaps?"

  "No, I don’t think so. Not tonight, anyway. There’s too much magic here. You saw its hand? When the flesh is removed they can feel wards and bindings and such."

  "Who would choose to be subjected to that?"

  The girl looked up and met Portia’s eyes. "In the queen’s court, you serve her, you feed her, or you perish. The most savory of these is to perish. So the choices become easier than you might think."

  "Kanika, lass, how do you know this?"

  She turned her face away.

  Portia softened. "Kanika…"

  The girl pushed herself to her feet. "We’ll be safe here. For as long as we stay, which could be forever, I guess, if you wanted." Her grey eyes were almost longing as she gazed down at Portia. "We could both stay here."

  There was something innocent and wistful in her voice just then, but it faded nearly as quickly as it had appeared, and her eyes glittered with layers of subterfuge once more.

  "You and I both know that isn’t going to happen. I have come here for a reason. As, apparently, have you."

  "You told me you’d help me."

  "I told you I’d try. But you won’t tell me what it is that I must do."

  Kanika sighed and shook her head. Something shifted behind her eyes, as if there were too many thoughts warring for prevalence. Again, that wavering childlike quality washed over her features. She covered her face with her hands and her whole body trembled. After a long moment, she regained her composure.

  The hairs rose on the back of Portia’s neck. "Kanika? Are you all right?"

  The girl tilted her head to the side, sending her curls dancing over her cheeks. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  "Nevermind." Portia rose, deciding not to press the matter further.

  Around them grew elegantly trimmed trees, startling compared to the brackish, overgrown roads beyond the walls. Night-blooming flowers gleamed with dew and scented the air with a fragrance that left a pleasant hint of vanilla on the back of her tongue. The pleasure surprised her; it was the first time she had felt anything but dread since coming to this place.

  "Where are we?"

  Kanika smiled. "We’re in a sanctuary. This is a sacred place, a prot
ected place." She went back to the gate and peered out, rising on her toes to see down the deserted road. She plucked a fat, silvery moonflower from a nearby bush and nestled it into the stinging vines at the top of the gate. She stepped back to admire her handiwork with a broad smile. "It’s so nice to feel safe and to be among beautiful things at last." She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the gleaming petals before turning toward Portia. "Besides yourself, I mean."

  Two low hedges flanked the white gravel path that led out of the courtyard toward a tall, arched bridge. Their footsteps drummed on the wooden planks as they crested over the slow-moving stream below. From that vantage point, the walls and trees obscured the view of Salus and strengthened the sense of tranquility. The moonflower on the gate seemed to glow softly. Portia smiled.

  "This is a magical place. I have never seen anything like it." The water below looked to be as dark as ink and moved serenely with just the barest whisper as it caressed the stones.

  Kanika beamed. "See, it isn’t all dreary and awful here, is it? We could make quite a fine life here."

  "There you go, again. Listen, Kanika—"

  "Portia, look!" Her small hand closed around Portia’s wrist with surprising strength. Kanika pointed beyond the hedges, toward a line of figures that moved on silent feet like drops of moonlight.

  They were draped in gossamer veils that hung nearly to their ankles. Beneath the veils and gowns, Portia could see that they were human and they were women. They followed the line of the stream, passing by on the far side of the bridge.

  "Who are they?"

  "This is a holy place, a place of refuge. And they are its keepers."

  Portia stood, mesmerized, as they streamed past a few yards away. The second to the last figure swept by, sending a storm of sensation through Portia’s body, burning her from the inside out. Through the sheer veil, Portia could see sunset-red curls.

  "Imogen!"

  "Portia, no! Wait!" Kanika raked her fingernails along Portia’s forearm, but it did not stop her.

  Portia ran down the bridge and leapt over the low hedge with ease, catching up with the column of veiled women. "Imogen!" Desperate joy surged through her flesh, bringing a flood of glittering tears to her eyes.