Guess I need to find that answer and fast.
Shaking my head, I focus on the path before me. Before I solve the riddle of what it means to rule, I first need to find my Lincoln. To do that, I must reach the LK escape route. Once I’m out of Antrum, we’ll see what’s possible.
This simply has to work.
Williamson and I maneuver through the hidden passageways of Arx Hall. These routes are new to me, although I can’t be sure. The many corridors start to merge into a single blurred experience.
Another cramped passageway.
Williamson’s torch casting flickering light on the gray rock walls.
Stale air filling my lungs.
Dust motes and cobwebs tickling my face.
All the sameness is only broken by the fact that, every so often, we pass a doorway that leads to a different path. These passageways snake throughout the castle. Only one leads to the LK Route.
With every second, fresh waves of anxiety twist up my spine. The voices echoing into the passageways grow louder. Ethan, Evil Lincoln, and their Razor Guards seem to be everywhere at once. The entire palace is on alert. How much time do I have to escape Antrum?
At last, we pause by a stone door that’s set into the wall. “We’re here,” announces Williamson. The torchlight casts deep shadows on his lined face.
I pause. You’d think that arriving would ease the ropes of tension across my shoulders, but somehow, they’ve only gotten worse.
“And where’s here?” I ask.
“This door opens onto the Dark Forest. It’s the closest I can get you to the lime kilns.”
This is just like the Chamber of Reflection, part two. I know all about the Dark Forest, although I’ve never been there before. The Dark Forest was an early attempt to add some Earth life to the underground. Ages ago, the House of Striga enchanted a real forest and moved it into Antrum. Things worked out well for the first hundred years or so. After that, the woods just got huge, dark, and creepy. No matter what they tried, the spell didn’t have the mojo to keep up with the decay. That’s why they built the next forest, the Crystal Woods, out of white stone. It stays bright and inviting. These days, the Dark Forest is where we shove things that don’t really fit in other spots.
Like lime kilns.
“How far to the kilns?” I ask. On reflex, I run my fingers through my hair. A small cloud of dust and cobwebs tumble to the ground. These secret passageways aren’t necessarily a hotspot for dusting.
“It’s a short walk through the Dark Forest. A path leads you right to the kilns.”
The “Dark Forest and oven” combo reminds me of a fairy tale. “This all seems very Hansel and Gretel to me.”
“You’re not the only one to think so. The stone path is called Breadcrumb Alley. It ends in a small clearing where the lime kilns are kept.”
“Got it. Let’s go.”
Williamson heaves open the door. We step outside into a shadowy forest filled with huge trees and wide dark leaves. Behind us, there looms a stretch of tall stone. We must be somewhere along the south wall of the palace. I scan the ground, looking for any sign of Ethan, Evil Lincoln, or the Razor Guards.
No one is here.
Perfect.
Just as Williamson said, a path of brown stones winds off through the trees. Taking off at a run, I follow the trail, Williamson at my side. I haven’t gone too far before a thought occurs to me.
I forgot to ask about Cissy and her escape.
“If you had orders about me, did you have any for my friend?” I ask.
“Who?” Williamson scans the forest as we race along. His mind is clearly in his own kind of warrior mode, scanning for intruders.
“This is important. Did you and the rest of my guards get any orders about Cecelia Frederickson, Senator of Diplomacy for Purgatory?”
“We did. She’s not allowed to leave Antrum. The orders were jointly signed by both Ethan and the King.”
That stops me dead in my tracks. I open my mouth, ready to complain that I asked my guards to ensure she got safely away…and they promised to do so. And since when does Ethan countersign anything? But there’s no point whining. I have to focus on what I can do to change things. “You need to find her. Help her leave Antrum as soon as possible.”
Williamson shakes his head. “But I must ensure you get to the lime kilns.”
“My destination won’t mean anything if I can’t get Cissy out of here. I wish I could explain more, but there really isn’t time. Can you do this for me? Cissy simply must leave Antrum.”
Williamson pauses for a moment before answering. “As you command.”
“Thank you.” My voice breaks as I reply. What would I have done without Williamson? “For everything.”
“It’s been an honor.” Williamson turns about, running in the opposite direction. I take off again on the Breadcrumb Alley.
If this is another fairy tale, I hope I’m Hansel or Gretel. They escaped the witch and her evil oven. Too bad my final destination is that oven.
Things aren’t looking good.
Chapter Nine
I keep running along my path through the Dark Forest. I can see why no one likes hanging out in these woods. If trees could be zombies, that’s the dark Forest: both dead and alive at the same time. Even worse, the trees don’t seem too happy about that fate. It’s hard to pull air into my lungs, like the atmosphere is choking with barely-contained rage.
Or maybe the anger is just mine alone. How did I go from a happy honeymoon to running for my life to escape Antrum?
The path takes a sharp turn through the massive black tree trunks. The barest sound echoes through the Dark Forest.
Footsteps.
And worse, they’re the tread of someone who’s trying not to be heard.
There’s a short list of who could be sneaking around the Dark Forest at this time. Ethan. Evil Lincoln. Razor Guards. My guards. Doctors. None of them have good intentions.
I pick up my pace. Beads of sweat roll down my back. Some of my steps become louder and more obvious, but it’s a chance I have to take. I simply have to go at full speed and Williamson said this trail was short.
Let’s just hope Williamson was right.
Still, no matter how hard I push myself, there’s no break in the trees. No clearing. And certainly, no lime kilns.
“Myla, I know you can hear me.” That would be Ethan, calling to me through the forest.
No way am I responding to this guy. I just try to run faster.
“I brought my toy planes,” adds Ethan. “They do more than decorate a tabletop. These are miniature working prototypes where I’ve swapped out the ammunition for something else. Tranquilizer darts.” He makes a tut-tut noise. “You scared away all my doctors, Myla. You left me no choice.”
Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Tranquilizers, again?
I run so hard that a stitch starts to bite into my side. I do my best to ignore it and keep up the pace. This kind of thing never happened to me before, though. Being pregnant must be messing with my warrior mode.
“Please, my love.” Now, it’s Evil Lincoln’s voice that sounds in the forest. “You must see reason. Stop running. Where will you go, anyway? Turn yourself in, and the sedation process can be far more pleasant.”
Did Evil Lincoln just say the words “pleasant sedation process” as a lure for me to turn myself in? Wow. What this guy doesn’t know about me is a lot.
“Ethan is merciful. He could have brought more arrowheads, you know. There are Razor Guards here with composite bows. Be thankful you’ll only be put to sleep.”
Like an animal. Thanks.
I follow another turn in the path, my sandals slapping against the brown stones. The thought occurs to me that this trail does look like giant-sized breadcrumbs. There are large flat stones separated like rocks in a river, only here the water is actually the dark earth of the forest. I’d think it was pretty if I weren’t running for my life.
A mechanical buzz sounds behind me. I risk a quic
k glance over my shoulder. About twenty toy planes zoom toward me through the heavy branches. Even worse, I’m running at full tilt and they are gaining on me. A faint whirring noise fills the air as the miniature guns angle in my direction.
Unholy Hell.
My tail arcs behind me, ready to deflect any projectiles that come my way. Trouble is, with that many planes and so many miniature tranq missiles headed at me? That might be too much, even for my tail. I will my Scala robes to change into body armor. The threads change form and cover me from head to toe. It’s bulkier for running, but I should be better protected.
Popping noises sound as the tiny tranq missiles are launched in my direction. Fresh waves of adrenaline pump through my system. My body gets jerked a little as my tail moves wildly to bat away the missiles. None break through, though.
I’m tempted to give my tail a high-five, but there will be time for that later.
The miniature planes veer off into the treetops. I’m pretty sure they’ve given up the fight, when they all swoop in for a frontal assault.
Oh damn. My tail can’t be nearly so helpful from this direction.
A barrage of needle-like missiles fly at me, embedding in the front of the body armor. Prickles bite into my skin.
Some of the needles have broken through.
The planes veer off. My head starts to get woozy. I step through a cluster of trees and into a small clearing.
At least, I think it’s a small clearing.
There are four igloo-shaped ovens all in a row. They are made of white brick with round mouths that spew red fire. My body feels weightless with triumph—I made it! Forcing myself to move even faster, I head toward the last kiln in line, just like Lincoln told me.
As I wobble closer, workers in cotton pants and matching tunics pause to stare, open mouthed. What I sight I must be: covered in cobwebs and dust, with a look of confusion on my face. I scan my body, looking for the needles. The tiny projectiles have all disappeared, which is no shocker. Magical weapons often do that once they’ve completed their job. Unfortunately, the fact that there’s no obvious reason for me to be stumbling around only makes me look stranger.
The workers step back as I approach. A few let out whispered greetings of “Your Majesty.” All of them keep staring at me like an alien landed in their back yard, which isn’t too far from the truth.
I step past the first line kiln. The heart from the furnace sears into my skin. I keep going.
“Stop her,” calls Evil Lincoln from the forest. “I command this as your King.”
I pass the second and third kilns. No one comes near me. Man, I must really look a mess for no one to even approach me. I pause at the fourth kiln and rest my hand on the fiery stone.
“In thrax sic hunt,” I whisper. The furnace turns cool under my touch.
Behind me, Ethan, Evil Lincoln, and a ton of Razor Guards step out of the forest. They mean business, too. A few of the Razor Guards carry compound bows and quivers of arrows. If those arrows can do the same thing to me as they did to Lincoln? There’s no way I could fight getting dragged off somewhere like Lincoln did through the mirror. Hells, I’m having enough trouble standing upright at this point.
“Stop her!” cries Lincoln.
I glare at my subjects, careful to make my irises glow red. “Touch me and die.”
My subjects, to their credit, stand perfectly still.
Some small part of me wonders if there was a more diplomatic way of putting that, but I have bigger things to worry about now.
Like how to wiggle into this furnace.
Ethan and company take off toward me at a run. Leaning over, I wiggle my head and shoulders in through the mouth of the furnace. From there, it’s easy to slip inside and crouch in the center. The furnace’s mouth closes up tight. I have the weird sensation that this is what it must be like to get swallowed by a giant fish.
A gentle purple glow lights up the cramped space. Purple, that’s Striga magic. The floor beneath me hardens into a metal circle. I exhale. A round disc means a Pulpitum platform. A young female voice sounds in the cramped space.
“Where can we take you?”
My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton candy or something. “Take me to…to…”
Pounding echoes outside the oven, which snaps some of my brain back into functioning again. “Earth.” I curl up onto my side in the tiny Pulpitum. It takes all my focus to speak the next four words. “The Empire State Building.”
“As you command,” says the voice.
The Pulpitum platform lurches deep into the round. There are the muffled sounds of an explosion followed by something about death and the Queen, but my brain is too fried to process that information. A hazy memory appears. Lincoln said something about the lime kiln being booby-trapped to prevent anyone from following me.
That information seems important now, but not as critical as staying on the platform. Pulpitum aren’t exactly designed with safety in mind. If you get too close to the edge of the metal transfer disc, you can get caught in the transfer process. And considering how I’m now riding a small round platform past dirt, rock, lava and gemstones, the possibilities for injury seem endless.
The platform lurches again. Instead of heading downward, I start hurtling toward the surface. My mind starts to fog over from the drugs in my system. I can’t fall asleep though.
I simply have to make it to the Empire State Building and Cissy.
Chapter Ten
The next thing I know, I’m crouched on a metal grating. Humans stroll all around. For some reason, the air tastes like exhaust fumes and lemon. A bit of sun peeps out from the clouds overhead.
My hazy brain tries to process this fact. We never get direct sunshine in Purgatory. I must have reached Earth.
Someone crouches beside me. It’s Cissy. Thank Heavens.
A few humans have started pointing in my direction.
Cissy leans in closer until we’re almost nose to nose. “Myla, are you all right?”
“Mostly.” The word comes out garbled, even to my ears.
Cissy glances nervously over her shoulder. “Those humans saw you appear out of nowhere. They’re freaking out.”
“Tell them I’ve been here for ages and be snippy about it. When it comes to the supernatural, humans never believe what they see.”
“Okay, good plan.” Looking over her shoulder, Cissy glares at the crowd. “What? You’ve never seen a woman pass out before?” The staring stops.
Cissy wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Can you stand up?”
I try to shift my weight, but my body feels like its made of noodles. I don’t need to pretend to pass out—I’m actually going to pass out. “Get me to a hospital. Don’t tell anyone in the after-realms where I am.”
My last thoughts are of Lincoln and the baby as all my consciousness fades.
My dreams are vivid and gut wrenching. I transport in the lime kiln Pulpitum once more. Voices echo around me. “The Queen is dead.” I pound on the kiln walls, trying to tell them that I’m alive. No matter how much I scream, I can’t make a sound.
After that, I find my parents in their home, weeping in a room that’s covered in drapes and paint cans. A half-assembled crib sits on the floor. Guilt and sorrow weigh down my bones. Once again, I try to tell them that I’m all right, but it’s like I’m a ghost. They can’t see or hear me. From the corner of my vision, I see a small glowing creature running through the house. I follow it.
“Who are you?” I call out the words, but no sound comes from my mouth. Stupid dreams. For what feels like years, I chase the little glowing man around my parent’s home. Every time he seems close enough to catch, he slips away once more.
When I become aware again, I realize two things. First of all, I’m lying in a hospital bed. And second, Cissy’s standing over me. It takes a few seconds for my memories to return. Then, I know.
The last time I saw Cissy, she and I were atop the Empire State Building. My head was woozy from Eth
an’s toy attack, so I’d asked her to get me medical help. I scan the cinderblock room. It looks like I definitely made it to a hospital, but who knows what happened once I arrived? Tranq meds and pregnancy don’t mix.
I grip Cissy’s wrist. “Is the baby okay?”
“The baby is fine and you’re fine.”
I close my eyes, trying to force Cissy’s news through my brain. The baby is fine and I’m fine.
Nope.
Not believing it.
I open my eyes and squeeze Cissy’s wrist harder. “But Mom said that the doctors don’t know how far along the baby really is. It’s all based on how powerful the child becomes in the supernatural sense. So maybe the baby looks fine to the humans, but they don’t know because it’s the wrong size or whatever.”
Cissy’s brown eyes hold a look of infinite patience. “I’m not sure I follow your logic, Myla.”
She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’m dropping my point. “I just woke up, and I’m panicking. Give me something here.”
Cissy nods. “Well, the human doctors checked you out thoroughly. They say you’re three weeks along and everything looks perfectly fine for that stage of pregnancy.” She wiggles her arm. “And I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”
“Right. Sorry.” I release her wrist and do the pregnancy math. “Three weeks. That’s right.”
“Do you feel better knowing all that?”
“Much better. Thank you.” I lean back onto my pillow and really soak in my surroundings for the first time. I’m in a private room, which is cool. The place has white cinderblock walls, a tiled floor, and a fancy color TV. The lights here even have actual dimmer switches.
Whoa.
This is Earth, all right. We don’t have fancy light switches in Purgatory, and Antrum doesn’t even use the cotton gin, let alone electricity.
Cissy drags a plastic chair beside my bed and sits down. Fortunately, the seat’s one of those with an open backside, so it’s perfect for her golden retriever tail. I notice how she’s wearing a neat white sweater, black pants, and spiky boots. A huge Prada satchel sits on the floor beside her. No shocker there. Of course, my bestie found time to both organize my life and shop up a storm.
Angelbound THRAX Page 9
