Crowned

by Christina Bauer

“He wants us to get in,” said Nan.

  “All right.” It was an effort to keep appearing calm. Stepping into an underground lair wasn’t exactly a smart endeavor.

  With the massive rock moved away, a set of stone stairs was now clearly visible. The rough-hewn steps led directly into the jungle floor. I marched down them with Nan close behind. Once we were both inside, Mrefu hauled the massive stone slid closed.

  It took another act of supreme focus not to yelp as darkness enveloped me.

  Suddenly, Mrefu’s yellow eyes lit up more brightly than ever before. Thanks to that extra light, I could now make out the rough contours of space we had entered. We were standing in some kind of stone passageway that led off in a single direction. Condensation, moss, and black vines covered the rock walls. My feet were chilled in ankle-deep water.

  Without any announcement, Mrefu marched off into the inky blackness. His eyes cast twin orbs of yellow light before us. Nan and I followed. The three of us walked down for a bit before the passage opened up into a great hall.

  And what a space it was.

  The chamber was round and incredibly tall with a small circular platform in the center. The walls here were covered in the same mixture of moss and dark vines as the outer hallway. Torches were set into the walls, casting the room in flickering light. The air was so still and quiet, my every breath felt deafeningly loud.

  Mrefu let out another growl, and the sound echoed in odd ways around the tall and circular space.

  “He wants us to follow him to the platform,” said Nan.

  I opened my mouth, ready to ask where this Kila Kitu was, but I was able to stop myself first. Honestly, there was no point in posing the question. If there was one thing I’d learned about mages of all kinds, it was that they liked to make a big show about their entrances and exits. In fact, the ability to jump in out of nowhere was one of Jicho’s favorite pastimes.

  The three of us stepped up to the round platform in the center of the room. As we crossed the stone floor, every step caused another slosh through the ankle-deep water. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  Someone was watching us.

  I scanned the round room. The ceiling stayed hidden in darkness, so it was possible that people could be waiting up there. In truth, a small army could be hiding in that space. My skin prickled with awareness. Tiny sounds echoed in from the cavernous ceiling. I shivered.

  Was someone lurking in the darkness above our heads?

  I shook my head. Don’t think yourself into a tizzy, Elea. You’re in an underground lair with an incredibly powerful mage. No one is hiding above your head.

  Closing my eyes, I practiced one of my old meditations for calm. By the time I’d reached the round platform, I felt in control once again.

  Mrefu stood at the platform’s edge. Nan and I followed suit. After that, Mrefu raised his arms and began a series of low growls. The sounds repeated, his voice rising every time. Now, I couldn’t remember any words to a spell, but I still knew the rules of how to cast them. And what Mrefu was doing? It was the classic format for an incantation of summoning.

  The realization sent a pang of grief through my soul. How I wished I could cast again, myself.

  A puff of wind spun around the circular platform, setting my Necromancer robes slapping against my legs. The breeze soon picked up, carrying along larger bits of moss and black vine. Within seconds, the wind had grown into a small vortex that was whipping around the center of the stone disc. The rough outlines of a figure appeared within the column of air. No question who this was.

  Kila Kitu.

  When the gusts stopped, a Zaidi man stood at the platform’s center. Just like Mrefu, his face was shaped with bone and horn. Only unlike Mrefu, this figure was actually made completely from moss and black leaves.

  Not a living person, then. I’d learned of this in the Cloister. Some people gained such incredible levels of magick while alive, that once they died, they could still take a physical form. Sometimes their spirit-selves possessed humans or, in this case, they took a shape made from leaves, bark, and moss.

  I straightened my back and spoke in my calmest voice. “Greetings, Kila Kitu.”

  “Well met, Elea of Braddock.” The mage’s voice was a deep and gentle whisper.

  “You speak.” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but after Mrefu’s unintelligible language, I’d expected the same from Kila Kitu.

  “I do whatever is required.” The mage grinned, showing off a mouth of impossibly sharp teeth. I shivered. Those definitely weren’t made of moss. And there was a malevolent spark in Kila Kitu’s eyes that set my nerves on edge. I’d already been toyed with by Mlinzi and Walinzi, and this mage had the same dark glee in his soul.

  In other words, the quicker all this was over with, the better.

  “If you know that I’m Elea of Braddock, then you must also be aware of why I’m here. I need the hilt of the Sword of Theodora. I also need to know how to heal the gateways with hybrid magick. Your magick has violet light. It’s hybrid, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then, how do I cast a hybrid spell to heal the gateways?”

  “That will be evident once you find the Sword of Theodora.”

  My shoulders slumped. “So I’ve been told.”

  By trickster gods. Which isn’t comforting.

  “And I may give you the Sword hilt,” said Kila Kitu. “But only after I determine if you are worthy. Are you strong enough to know the truth?” Kila Kitu’s voice became so melodious it was almost a song. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. Friend? Enemy?

  I lifted my chin. It didn’t matter what Kila Kitu was. He had answers. “Yes, I’m strong enough. How can I prove that to you?”

  “Give me your wrist. Then, you can see the past through my magick, so long as your blood flows.” Kila Kitu bared his teeth, and again, I couldn’t miss how the mage had a mouthful of glistening fangs.

  On reflex, I turned to Nan. My onetime friend stared at me with her right brow arched. I remembered that face. It was her way of wondering if I had the mettle to go through with this thing. My focus moved onto Mrefu. He gave me the barest of nods.

  Go on, Mrefu seemed to be saying. This is the way.

  I crossed the raised platform to stand beside Kila Kitu. Little by little, I lifted my arm, holding it out toward the mysterious Seer. Kila Kitu’s moss-dark eyes glared at me. His mouth opened wide. The invitation was clear.

  Set your hand in here.

  I took one step closer.

  Two.

  Three.

  Fast as a heartbeat, Kila Kitu latched his teeth into my wrist. A blast of hurt shot up my arm. Blood dripped from my skin, landing on the platform with a pit-pat. I gasped with shock.

  The next thing I knew, the stone room disappeared. The pain vanished as well. The surprise I’d felt before morphed into curiosity. What spell had Kila Kitu cast? Purple smoke surrounded me, cutting off my vision. A charge of magick filled the air, reminding me of the promise of lightning before a storm.

  Kila Kitu was casting a spell and without using an incantation.

  Now that was powerful magick indeed.

  The violet mists faded away, revealing the fact that I no longer stood in the underground chamber of stone. Now, I waited at the edge of a great field whose grass was formed into red and blue squares. The pattern reminded me of the chess games I used to play with Petra back at the Zelle Cloister. Lining the edges of the field were gateways. Some were made of gemstones; others were simple gray bricks. I recognized the one I’d passed through to see Mlinzi and Walinzi. All of them were empty arches whose hollow insides looked out over the vast checkerboard fields. I was the sole figure to be seen.

  I looked down at myself for the first time. My body was a translucent as a ghost, while my right hand was torn up at the wrist. Blood dripped onto the earth, leaving no stain behind.

  Clearly, I was a lone pawn in this game of gods and gateways. I didn’t like that
at all.

  A ghostly version of Kila Kitu appeared beside me. Unlike back at the stone chamber, he looked like the rest of the Zaidi, only his fur was pure white. “You’ve made it through my casting. I’m impressed.”

  “What is this place?”

  “This is the Meadow of Many Gateways. From here, we’re connected to every world that contains life.”

  I scanned the landscape. Around me stood gateways of many different shapes and sizes with one thing in common: they all glowed with bright purple light. Another realization appeared. “Hybrid magick created this place. It’s the power that connects everything together.”

  Kila Kitu tilted his head. “Somewhat.”

  Implications whirled through my mind. “Then it really is true. Our world is some kind of hub to control all the passages between realms.”

  Kila Kitu stared up into the night sky. “The Sire and Lady created the gateways. Every two thousand years, another Elea and Viktor are born, their bodies brimming with Necromancer power. The Sire and Lady believe they must recharge the gateways.”

  “So the Sire and Lady can control all the worlds.”

  “Yes. Even so, others believe the Martyr’s Comet has a different purpose. They believe that the comet gives you extra magick not to power the gateways.”

  “Mlinzi and Walinzi told me about this. They want me to ensure they are freed from the gateways.”

  “There is more at stake than the tricksters. You might have the power to free all the captive worlds.”

  For a long moment, I could only stare at Kila Kitu, open mouthed. Once I found my voice again, I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “So this is more than merely saving my own world, but freeing all of them? This is too much.”

  Kila Kitu sighed. “You don’t have a heart like my Elea. She would have leapt at the chance to help others. Perhaps we should return.”

  “Wait. This is a representation of the past. The gateways here were just powered with the energy of another Elea and Viktor.”

  “Yes, what you see here? The sacrifice was just made by my Elea. She created my people, the Zaidi. She gifted me with extra power.”

  “Take me back further in time. Show me how she died.”

  Pain glistened in Kila Kitu’s eyes. “I won’t do that.”

  “Then show me how the gateways were created.”

  Kila Kitu sniffed. “I can’t do that. I’m not powerful enough.”

  “Then show me what you can. If I see how she died, there might be a clue about how to save all the gateways. I do want to save them. I’m just different from your Elea. A little ore cautious, that’s all.”

  “I will take you back. Then we’ll see what you truly are.” Kila Kitu waved his arm and a cloud of purple smoke appeared around us. A moment later, the violet-colored mists disappeared.

  Kila Kitu and I still stood on the Meadow of Many Gateways. However, this time all the arches only shone with only the palest purple light. They were almost out of magickal energy.

  Soon, someone would need to recharge them by losing their life.

  The thought made me nauseous, but I leaned into my Necromancer training and kept my focus on the gateways. I simply had to stay alert. Seeing this so-called sacrifice might help me figure out how to power the gateways without losing my life.

  I scanned the skies once more. The last of the Blood Comet was disappearing by the horizon.

  Behind us, a gateway flared with a pale lavender light. Out of it stepped two figures I’d seen before in my visions.

  First, there was an Elea who wasn’t me.

  And at her side, there walked a Viktor who wasn’t Viktor.

  The two were dressed in long purple robes that flowed behind them as they crossed the checkerboard grass. About twenty Zaidi followed behind them, all warriors who were carrying bows and arrows. The entire company marched right through both me and Kila Kitu, oblivious to our presence.

  Kila Kitu gestured toward the Not-Elea and Not-Viktor. “You asked to see this. Why not have a closer look?”

  What I wanted to do was run home and hide, but I nodded instead. With hesitant steps, I approached the Not-Elea. Her eyes were smaller than mine, her mouth a bit larger, and her nose a tad longer. She wasn’t me, and yet she was.

  After that, I looked to Viktor. It was the same with him; there were a series of subtle differences that added up to a single conclusion. This wasn’t the same man I’d fought so many times before. The pair paused in the center of the long rectangular board. Viktor patted Elea’s head and smiled.

  They were friends.

  I stared at them, my mind blank with shock. They liked each other? I’d assumed the two were mortal enemies, the same as me and my Viktor. Something about their friendship knocked at the back of my mine—this was important. I pictured my last battle with Viktor, the one where I raised the Necromancers from the dead. He’d cut his cheek and the same injury appeared on me.

  And this Elea and Viktor were friends.

  Together with the joint injuries, that meant something.

  Before I could contemplate further, another gateway flared to life. Two new figures stepped onto the chessboard.

  The Sire and Lady.

  The Lady appeared resplendent as ever in her long green gown with golden tresses trailing behind her. For his part, the Sire wore his black armor and a dour look on his pale face. As the two approached the Not-Elea and Not-Viktor, the ground shook. Long fissures opened up in the checkerboard pattern of the meadow.

  The Sire and Lady paused before the Not-Elea and Not-Viktor. The Lady gestured to the fresh breaks in the earth. “We don’t have much time.”

  Not-Elea straightened the lines of her long purple robes. “I can access hybrid magick.”

  The Sire’s gray eyes narrowed to slits. “Hybrid power is forbidden.”

  Not-Viktor gestured around the meadow. “But you created these gateways with hybrid power. Surely, we don’t have to die to maintain it.”

  “Only one of you has to die,” said the Lady. “But if you both choose to make the sacrifice, the arches will be that much stronger.”

  Another gateway lit up with purple brightness. This time, a figure in long bronze robes stepped out. Whoever it was, they were carrying the Sword of Theodora by the hilt, the blade pointed down. The robe’s hood hung low, so I couldn’t see the newcomer’s face. Still, there was something solid and unyielding in their stance.

  “Your executioner is here,” said the Lady.

  My throat constricted with anxiety. No wonder this figure appeared so foreboding. One day, whoever this was would come for me as well.

  “Make this easy on yourself,” added the Sire, his voice deep as thunder. “Sacrifice willingly. That way, it won’t hurt so badly. For you…” He gestured to the Zaidi. “Or for them.”

  Not-Elea’s shoulders stiffened. “You wouldn’t hurt the Zaidi.” Behind her, all the warriors strung their bows, pointing the arrows straight at the Sire and Lady. Neither of the deities so much as flinched with worry.

  “We never hurt anyone,” explained the Lady. “The executioner does.”

  Not-Viktor gripped Not-Elea’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. Do not do this.”

  Not-Elea shook off his touch. “If I agree to this sacrifice, will you allow the Zaidi to live?”

  The Lady smiled sweetly. “You have our word.”

  Not-Elea nodded and then knelt before her executioner.

  After that, things happened so quickly, it was hard to keep track. Not-Viktor lunged for the executioner, ready to attack. The figure in bronze moved with supernatural speed, running the Sword of Theodora straight through Not-Viktor’s chest. A burst of purple light shone out from the spot. Not-Viktor screamed in agony.

  “See?” asked the Sire. “When you’re unwilling, it’s far more painful.”

  For a full minute, cries of agony echoed across the meadow. Then Not-Viktor fell over, dead.

  Next the executioner turned to Not-Elea. My alm
ost-double stared at the dead body beside her on the ground. “Say it again. You won’t touch the Zaidi. You won’t harm anyone else I love.”

  I gasped with recognition and fear. Those words reminded me of Petra’s message. “When you disobey the gods, this is what happens to those you love.”

  How many times had the Sire and Lady blackmailed someone like me into allowing themselves to be killed? A ball of rage tightened inside me.

  “We give you our word,” intoned the Sire.

  Not-Elea bowed her head. “Then I am ready.”

  One of the Zaidi stepped forward. “You can not do this.” My eyes widened as a recognized this young warrior.

  It was a younger version of Kila Kitu.

  Not-Elea gave him a sad smile. “You can’t stop this. No one can. And I need you alive. Help the next martyr, so long as he or she is worthy.”

  The young Kila Kitu shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “I am your creator. You owe me your life and fealty.” The words Not-Elea spoke were harsh, but there was no anger behind them.

  The young Kila Kitu hung his head. “I will do as you command.”

  “Move on with the ceremony,” said the Lady.

  “Wait,” said Not-Elea. “I want all the Zaidi safely away first.”

  Grumbling sounded from the small company of warriors, but the Sire spoke in such a thunderous voice, they quickly silenced. “The sacrifice is correct. You may go.” The Sire pointed to a nearby gateway, which flared with pale purple light. One by one, the Zaidi marched off the Meadow of Many Gateways. The younger version of Kila Kitu was last in line.

  When the last of the Zaidi were gone, the executioner raised the Sword of Theodora. The blade seemed to move in agonizingly slow motion as it was brought down on Not-Elea’s neck. Another flash of purple light appeared, just as when not-Viktor was killed, only brighter. Not-Elea instantly fell over, dead. There were no marks on her body. She hadn’t even gasped, let alone screamed.

  Somehow, that felt worse than how Not-Viktor died. At least, that was a real murder with agony and magick. This painless death seemed to mask the loss.

  Beside me, Kila Kitu stirred. “I must end the vision now.” His voice shook with emotion.