The massive door closed behind me, sealing us inside.
“What is this place?” I asked cautiously.
“This, my dear, is the heart of Hell. Each Witch has her crystal ball.” Upon the Witch’s command, the table came to life, becoming a 3-D landscape complete with trees, rocks, and waterfalls.
Fascinated, I moved closer, recognizing some of the places. It looked like a miniature version of Hell. I reached out to touch it and found it wasn’t an inanimate scale model, it was live. Within it, creatures moved, escaped, killed; water flowed from the waterfalls and the wind blew through the trees. Everything was moving and changing so quickly I could barely make out the details. It was Kreeshna who was controlling it with her black magic. The Witch seemed to be looking for something.
“What are you doing? Why did you bring me here?” Instead of answering, she gave me a sly smile as everything abruptly came to a halt. A sudden movement caught my eye and I looked up from the model to see a face lighting up one of the walls of the chamber. “Drake . . .” I murmured, my blood running cold. He looked anxious and in danger. “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”
Kreeshna laughed. “I’m not doing anything. Many dangers lurk in the Dark Copse, though. And I can control them.” She waved her hand over the table, generating a black fog that trembled with glimmers of fire. Drake looked over his shoulder and started running, along with Gurdan and Tricu. The cloud was chasing them. The whole room had transformed: all the walls had come to life, showing the Copse and its dangers. It wasn’t just a projection, though. It all seemed real, as though if I reached out I could touch it. I felt like I was inside the beating heart of Hell.
I followed Drake’s escape, turning to track his movements as he passed from one wall to the next, the landscape transforming before him. He came to a sudden halt at the brink of a cliff and almost fell off the edge.
“Drake!” I screamed, but the illusion faded and the walls went dark. Furious, I turned toward the Witch. I wished I could suffocate her in that cloud of fire and forever deform that sinister smile of hers. “What happened to him?” I asked, frantic.
“He’s out looking for you, poor thing. He doesn’t realize that Hell is an ever-changing place. It might take him centuries to find his way back to the Castle.” The miniature on the table showed the dark fortress, but it vanished instantly, reappearing in another spot. “I’ll ask you again: are you ready to join the Mizhyas?”
If hatred was a fire I would have turned to ash. Damn it, Drake! Sooner or later I would have found a way to escape. Why was he coming to find me? Kreeshna wouldn’t make things easy for him, that was for sure.
“It can’t be fun, wandering around looking for someone for all eternity—especially when you’re being hunted.” On the enchanted table, a huge beast crept out of a lake. It was black, mighty, with sharp fangs and claws. A cross between a feline and a bear. Drake reappeared on the wall and, at a wave of the Witch’s hand, the feline bounded into the tree above him.
“Look out!” I cried, leaning toward the screen. But Drake couldn’t see or hear me. There was nothing I could do to help him.
“After all, it seems like a fitting punishment for abandoning me. To each his own fate. Maybe I should take back my offer and leave things as they are. It’s more fun this way.” Just then, the beast split into two separate beasts. I raised my eyes and glared at Kreeshna. She smiled, reading my surrender in my mind. All at once a group of Mizhyas ran into the room and surrounded me. “May the blood ceremony begin,” the Witch proclaimed. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing formal.”
Khetra held a bracelet close to my bicep. At a gesture from the Witch, it burst into flame, illuminating the carved symbols on it.
“Welcome to the she-warriors.”
The Mizhya clamped the metal around my arm and the searing pain blinded me.
DRAKE
17
A Price to Pay
Gurdan tore the creature off me, smashing it against the rock, but another one was lying in wait and attacked the ogre from behind. It looked like a Yeti of darkness and was even bigger than he was.
“Gurdan, move aside!”
When he saw the drawn bow in my hand he threw himself to the ground. I shot two arrows at the same time, but halfway to their target they hit an invisible wall and vanished, generating a blast of energy that sent me crashing back against a tree.
Suddenly everything went quiet. I looked around, disoriented. The beasts had disintegrated and there was no sign of Gurdan either. But something even more surreal had happened: the black Castle now stood before me, majestic and terrifying. At last I had found it, and inside it was Stella. A shiver ran through me. It was as vast as I remembered, but even more foreboding. Something told me that once I went inside I would never leave again.
The gates opened and a small procession of Mizhyas marched toward me. Khetra headed the group, which told me Kreeshna had sent them. There was something different in the Mizhya’s face, a malicious indifference I wasn’t prepared for. She wasn’t my ally, I reminded myself.
“It’s rare for an escaped Subterranean to deliver himself to the Castle of his own volition.”
“I had a good reason to come back,” I said. The same one I escaped for.
Khetra snorted, but her expression betrayed her. She was jealous. “You had your freedom. It would’ve been wiser to hold on to it.”
“I’ve never really been free.” Not since I lost Stella on Earth.
“Well, now you’ve lost all hope. Once you enter the Castle, I doubt you’ll ever get out again.”
Was it possible she was suggesting I turn back? Maybe she was trying to make me leave in order to separate me from Stella. If so, she was kidding herself. I would never give her up. Not without a fight.
“Take me to Kreeshna,” I told her, resolute.
Khetra stepped behind me and bound my hands behind my back. “Your mistress is already expecting you,” she whispered in my ear. She just couldn’t pass up the chance to remind me I was a slave there.
Two Mizhyas escorted me into the Castle and up to a large wooden door. They unbound my hands and turned to stand guard. I imagined Kreeshna was inside, so I reached out to turn the knob, but the door swung open on its own, welcoming me into the large room.
When I stepped inside, Stella’s eyes instantly found mine. “Drake!” She rushed toward me and I darted forward, but Kreeshna snapped her short-handled, five-tailed whip and yanked Stella back.
“Let her go!” I snarled at the Witch. Stella had barely touched me, and being deprived of that contact burned my chest. I wanted to embrace her, feel that I had found her again, that she was mine.
The Witch smiled, reading the desire in my mind. “Why should I? She’s mine now,” she replied with a sneer.
It was then that I saw it: the tattoo on Stella’s arm, an armband just below the elbow that branched down her forearm. She had become a Mizhya. She was one of them.
“What’s going on?” Only now did I realize that she looked just like the rest of Kreeshna’s she-warriors: she was wearing the same brown combat outfit. She even emanated the spirit of a she-warrior—it had always been inside her. “Stella, why?”
Her distressed expression left room for hope that she hadn’t done it by choice. “They forced me,” she confirmed, desperation in her tone.
Kreeshna snorted. “Don’t lie. You chose freely.”
“She kept sending out beasts to hunt you down,” she said. “I had to do it.”
“No, you didn’t!” I said reproachfully. I glanced at the large table that occupied almost the whole room, where a miniature version of Hell was crawling with familiar creatures and settings. So that was how things worked. I had never actually been free of Kreeshna. She had continued to manipulate my choices, our choices, abducting Stella to make me return to her and then forcing her to swear an oath of loyalty. She had stolen her from me. It had always been that way between the Subterraneans and the Witches: a battle o
ver Souls. It was as though we were still back on Earth. They couldn’t resist demonstrating their superiority over us. Now Stella would have to obey Kreeshna’s every command. What was that harpy scheming? Even worse, what would it mean for us?
“Why did you leave me out there?! Why didn’t you take me?”
Kreeshna gave no answer. At her command, Stella was dragged out of the room. She struggled to prevent it but could do nothing.
“Drake!”
“Stellaaa! Let her go! What do you want from her?” I growled at the Witch. The Mizhyas held me back, preventing me from attacking her.
“You can still have her, under my conditions. If you refuse, she’ll be mine forever.”
“You would’ve shown me the way back to the Castle anyway, wouldn’t you? You lied.”
“The truth is so boring. You can achieve so much more by using a touch of imagination.”
I shot Kreeshna a fiery glare. “I’m here now, just like you wanted. Ready to challenge everything and everyone.” I would do anything to free Stella. I would do battle in the Opalion and emerge victorious for Kreeshna.
The Witch read my mind before I could even make my offer. She smiled. “Poor fool, do you still not understand? I orchestrated your escape. I decided to allow you to run away from the Castle. One doesn’t become a Champion so easily. Each Subterranean needs to earn the privilege of being chosen. While you were out there believing you’d embarked on a journey to save your beloved, I was actually training you so you’d be worthy. But winning the Opalion isn’t enough to make me spare both your lives. It certainly wouldn’t be worth losing the strongest Champion I’ve ever trained. Do you really believe I’ve done all this for a stupid Opalion? Freedom has a far higher price.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I want more. I want glory, glory over all my Sisters. For centuries I’ve searched for a worthy Champion. I’ve had many, but none that rose to the level of my standards. You were raw, but I saw your potential right from the start, even when you were nothing more than a mortal enlisted in the army. When I claimed you, you were only a Soldier. Now you’ve advanced to Champion and soon you’ll prove it to everyone. I’ve seen your skills in battle, without your even having fed on lymphe. Imagine what you could do with my power inside you. The battles in the Opalion trained you, but they weren’t enough.”
“So you made me believe you were hunting Stella so I would go out and find her to protect her, when you actually never had any intention of tossing her into the Arena to make me demonstrate my loyalty to you. Do I have it right now?”
“There’s no such thing as blind loyalty. If you want to trust someone, you need to find a way for their interests to coincide with your own. I wanted you to win for me, and you needed a stronger motivation. Hell forged you, and the woman you love lit your fire. At long last, you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“The Dark Tournament.”
I recoiled at the words. The Ultimate Opalion. Among the Damned and Subterraneans it was a legend mentioned only in whispers.
The Witch nodded. “You’ll undergo the most grueling of challenges as you complete each level of the Games and reach the next. It is a contest like few others, in which imagination and reality come together to create a unique battlefield. Among the Damned it’s the stuff of legend. They come from all over the realm to witness the event. The Dark Tournament is held once every thousand years and at last the time has come. Unlike the Opalion, you will challenge not one but all of my Sisters’ Champions. And finally you too will be one of them.”
From what she was saying, there was no choice: I would have to be one. While in an ordinary Opalion the Witches pitted anyone they wanted against their Champion, even prisoners, the Ultimate Opalion was waged only among Champions.
“I’ve never even won a regular Opalion. What makes you think I’ll make it through the trials?”
“You’ll do so because the stakes have changed. At each level you’ll be convinced you can’t do it. My Sisters will make you believe you can’t. They’ll do whatever they can to obstruct you. But you’ll resist, you’ll fight for me, you’ll destroy for me. You’ll win for me. Only then will I become the Queen of the Dark Tournament. And only then will both your lives be spared.”
“What if I lose?” I was prepared to sacrifice myself and battle anyone if it meant saving Stella, but up to now I had never won even a single Opalion. She knew that.
“You will give me the glory I deserve,” she said, “or you both will die.”
I clenched my fists. The very thought of battling all the Witches’ Champions was insane. But I could do it. Kreeshna was right, this time it was different. This time, Stella was the prize.
“I accept,” I said, determined.
Stella had ended up in Hell trying to follow me. It was my turn to save her.
Even if I died in the attempt.
18
Freedom Is the Color of Blood
The Mizhyas dragged me away from Kreeshna. I was sure they were going to imprison me but instead they took me to the Spa Parlor, a place reserved for the Witches and their Champions. Everything was dazzling inside its grottos. Water emerged in sparkling little cascades from the ceiling and walls, flowing into pools. Some shimmered as though filled with molten gold.
On the way there I’d noticed that the whole Castle was abuzz with Mizhyas and Subterraneans. The stands of the Arena were packed with the Damned, who had come to witness the ultimate tournament. The time had come.
Their murmuring, though, was hushed by the walls of the Spa. We hadn’t used doors to enter. Instead, we’d crossed through an invisible wall. It was as though the Spa was in another dimension, a place hidden from the rest of the inhabitants of the Castle. It was like a meditation area.
Rumor had it that the water there was capable of instilling power, but it was a lie. The Witches’ blood was our promise of power. With their Dreide they captured our strength. With their lymphe they also claimed our minds. We were granted only one dose, shortly before the Tournament. It would increase our abilities, sharpen our senses, allow the Witches to enter our minds and control us like pawns. Actually, we Champions weren’t really the ones battling; it was the Witches. Each of them, as she watched, did everything she could to make her Champion advance a level or destroy his opponents. The real challenge was among the Sisterhood. Only she who demonstrated the shrewdest strategy was worthy of glory.
For us Champions unleashed in the Arena, it was a game of strength and survival, whereas for the Witches, it was a chess match in which only the Black Queen would remain standing. It was clear why Kreeshna had put so much effort into it. Ordinary Opalions were common events and the glory derived from each vanished as soon as the following one was held. What’s more, in those tournaments only two Sisters contended for the title. Battling all of them in a challenge that took place only once every thousand years was a lot more important.
The grottos were teeming with Champions. They were all there, being carefully attended to by Mizhyas and their Amìshas. Some were having wax poured over them that would solidify on their bodies, others were being wrapped with red seaweed, while still others were totally immersed in the waters. I wondered if I would have to undergo those treatments too.
Kreeshna’s Mizhyas stripped me naked and pushed me into one of the pools. I could see for myself now that it wasn’t water, but rather, a golden liquid that glimmered in the torchlight flickering on the walls.
“Where’s Stella? Why isn’t she here too?” I asked Khetra. “She’s one of you now. I want her to be the one to help me.”
The Mizhya’s gaze turned fiery. “What you want matters nothing here.”
Why was she acting like that? She’d never really cared about me and I’d never promised her anything. We’d had fun together, but that was it. That had always been clear to both of us.
Then I understood. Khetra wasn’t bothered by the fact that I had only been having fun with her. She was h
urt that I didn’t feel the same way about Stella. Khetra had known me as a player who didn’t take relationships seriously. And I really had become one after losing Stella. For decades I’d vented my suffering in meaningless flings without ever making a serious commitment. Maybe Khetra couldn’t stand that Stella had been the one to change me, not her. I’d had lots of women, enough to know how to interpret the way the Mizhya was looking at me.
I didn’t care about her jealousy. I wasn’t a knight in shining armor. I wanted Stella, wanted her there with me . . . at least to say goodbye to her before the tournament. I grabbed Khetra’s wrist. “I’m asking you, where is Stella?”
“Kahlena is at Kreeshna’s side. She still needs discipline. Our mistress will find a way to make her more servile.”
Hearing that name again made my blood boil. It was the name Stella had insisted on being called when I thought I’d lost her. And now, using that same name, they hoped to take her away from me.
I clenched my fists, desperate at the thought that I wouldn’t see her again before the tournament. Before walking into the lions’ den.
“You should be pleased,” Khetra went on, pouring some of the golden liquid onto my back. “She’s going to dance for you during the opening ceremony. She’ll be in the front row when they begin the Games, right next to the Black Queen.”
I frowned. That should have been good news, but Khetra’s sly smirk made me think it actually wasn’t. “If you want to flaunt your submission to Kreeshna, just call her ‘mistress.’ She’s not the Queen of the Tournament yet.”
“It’ll be better for you if she is soon.”
I wondered how Sophìa, the Empress and ruler of the kingdom, could allow her Sisters the opportunity to boast such a title. When the Games were over, she was still the queen over all. And yet each of the Witches yearned for that glory. It was a victory over the others. As I thought about it, I realized it must have been Sophìa’s strategy to keep them contented and in their place.
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