by Shae Ford
“You didn’t do anything,” Kael assured him quickly. “Where is he now?”
“He’s almost here.”
Eveningwing glanced at the door, and dread began to boil inside Kael’s gut. He tried to prepare himself for what he would see, but when the doors flew open, he still felt the earth drop out from beneath him.
Brend stood in the doorway. His arms hung limply at his sides and his mouth sagged open. He stared vacantly at the far wall. His eyes were fogged over and dulled — all of the glint and the mischief were gone from them … never to return. For Brend was Brend no longer:
He was a Fallow.
Chapter 32
Across the Threshold
“Brend!” Declan charged down the aisle and tried to grab him around the shoulders, but Brend was too strong. He jerked himself free with an unintelligible grunt. Then he slugged Declan across the jaw.
The noise it made was like a slab of raw meat striking the tabletop, and Declan went down hard. Brend trudged past him without a second glance, his deadened face pointed for the Fallows’ stall.
One of the giants helped Declan to his feet. “There’s nothing you can do for him — he’s gone.”
But Declan didn’t seem to hear. He stared after Brend, clutching at the thick red knot that had sprung up on the side of his face. Hurt filled his eyes from bottom to top. For a moment, it looked like it might spill over into tears.
Then the torches dimmed, and the hurt vanished — replaced quickly by a determination so fierce and dark that Kael could almost sense what was going to happen next. And he could do nothing to stop it.
Declan tackled Brend from behind. He was still lying flat on his stomach when Declan grabbed him around the ankles and began dragging him backwards. Brend grunted angrily, twisting and flipping like a fish caught on a line. His arms swung back, but he couldn’t seem to figure out how to free himself. And with a mighty heave, Declan chucked him into the stall.
The giants inside bolted out immediately — some fled with bits of their pallets clutched in their arms, diving into the safety of the other stalls. When Brend tried to follow them out, Declan stuffed him back inside with a sharp thrust of his heel.
Kael, who’d been watching the whole thing with no small amount of shock, suddenly felt his feet leave the ground as Declan grabbed him and hurled him into the stall with Brend — who swatted him against the opposite wall.
He watched, dazed, as Brend tried to escape a second time. But Declan shoved him back. Then the doors began to close with a horrifying screech.
“What are you doing?” Kael shouted. “You can’t lock us up in here — he’ll kill us!”
“No, because you’re going to fix him,” Declan replied, kicking Brend backwards. When the door had closed enough that Brend couldn’t escape, Declan tackled him again, this time wrapping an arm around his throat.
Kael saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Eveningwing slide in at the last moment. “No — get out of here!”
But it was too late. The door shuttered at the end of its track and Kael knew they were trapped — trapped with a roaring, dead-eyed Fallow who would rip them all to shreds the second he was free. He struggled viciously against Declan’s hold and showed no signs of ever tiring, while Declan’s face grew red, and his arms began to tremble with the effort.
“Fix him,” he grunted, tightening his legs around Brend’s.
Kael was furious. He pushed Eveningwing behind him and yelled: “How? How in Kingdom’s name do you expect me to fix him? He’s dead, Declan!”
“No he isn’t —”
“Yes, he is! Brend’s gone. He’s not in there anymore — he’s nothing but an empty husk. You said so yours —”
“He’s not dead!” Declan cried. His eyes burned red with desperation, veins bulged from his neck. “He isn’t gone. Not yet. He’s just not right in the head, is all. And that’s why you’re going to fix him. You’re going to get inside his head — just like you did to me. And you’ll bring him back.” He gritted his teeth tightly. The effort sent a tear burning down his cheek. “You know he’s all I’ve got left … he’s my only family. And if you don’t help him,” he choked, glaring, “then I swear we’re all dead men.”
His words were the words of a madman, the last request of a man so stricken by grief that he no longer cared if what he said made any sense. Anybody else would’ve slapped him across the face and told him so. Anybody else would’ve said that what he asked for was impossible — insane, even. But Kael was not like anybody else.
And he thought Declan’s idea might be very possible, indeed.
All at once, Deathtreader was in his head, speaking as if he had the book opened in front of him: I always start with the eyes, it whispered. The eyes are ever-open doors … and the secrets of the mind lay just behind them.
Kael looked at Brend’s eyes. They were empty and lolling, yes — but not quite hidden. They weren’t completely frosted in white like Casey’s had been: he could still make out the pupil and pale grays.
He stepped up to Brend and grabbed either side of his face. The sudden touch seemed to daze him — and for a moment, he stopped fighting. Then I lock eyes with my subject, Deathtreader’s voice went on. I look deep into the black and imagine that I’m standing on the edge of a high cliff. The cord between us tightens, I feel the earth begin to slip away, but I do not fight it. Instead, I hold my breath and prepare myself for the plunge.
Kael’s hands began to tremble as he realized what he was about to do. No promise to Morris was worth a man’s life. He’d had a chance to save Brend before, and he hadn’t done it. Instead, he’d cringed in the safety of the barn and told himself that wisdom was more important than friendship.
Maybe it was. And if that was the case, then there was a very good possibility that Kael didn’t have his boxes stacked in the right order. But he was all right with that: there were far worse things than being a fool.
So as he met Brend’s eyes, Kael held on tightly.
And then the world slipped away.
*******
Kael stood in a long hallway. It was wreathed in soft light and lined with sturdy doors. He realized that this must be the Threshold: the room at the front of the mind that Deathtreader said would lead to all others.
The hall stretched endlessly, disappearing into a black that he couldn’t see beyond. He searched the walls for some marking or embellishment, any of the subtle clues that Deathtreader said to look for. But the walls were completely bare.
There must’ve been hundreds of doors, each carved from oak and set plainly into their frames. Where should he look first? What should he even be looking for? He had no idea what had happened to Brend. He had no idea where he might find out. What had he gotten himself into —?
Quite suddenly, the hallway began to blur and the colors waved in front of him, rippling like the reflection on a pond. He knew he was panicking. This was exactly what had happened to Deathtreader the first time he tried to mind-walk: he panicked, the world blurred, and he was spat straight back out. Kael knew if he didn’t want to get thrown into reality, he would have to calm himself.
He breathed deeply, and the ripples began to fade. I can solve this, he thought to himself. I can figure this out. When the world was steady once again, he set out across the Threshold.
As he moved down the hall, he was careful not to open any of the doors. Monsters lurked in the Threshold — menacing beasts of madness and doubt. They would attack without mercy, and it wasn’t just Kael they would try to devour: they’d feast on walls and doors, on morals and memories — anything they could wrap their horrible jaws around. And as they ate, they would grow stronger, feeding until they consumed Brend’s entire mind.
Deathtreader had once let a monster of madness loose in a nobleman’s head, and the poor fellow had wound up driving a dagger through his own heart to escape it.
So as Kael traveled down the hallway, he was very careful. He stopped and liste
ned at the doors. Sometimes he would hear nothing, and sometimes he heard voices. They were memories, mostly — people and moments that Brend held dear to him. Kael knew they were only memories because they were spoken so faintly. According to Deathtreader, hopes and dreams were much louder.
“Come this way.”
Kael jumped and spun around. It sounded as if the voice had come from right behind him, but there wasn’t anybody there. “Hello?”
“Come this way,” it said again, this time from down the hall. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Kael stepped forward. “Do you know what happened to Brend?”
“Yes, yes … come this way. There are things you need to know.”
He followed the voice down the hall, listening until it stopped. The silence felt strange to him. He wondered where his guide had gone. “Hello? Where are you?”
“Look in here.”
A doorknob rattled on his left. He reached for it.
“Yes, yes … you’ll find your secret in here.”
Mercy’s sake — the secrets! Kael had forgotten about them. He jerked his hand back, his heart pounding. There was no telling what sort of horrible trap they were trying to lead him into.
He walked away, but the secrets kept calling to him. There were dozens of them, they talked over each other and seemed to grow louder with every step. He stuffed his fingers inside his ears and hummed, trying to tune them out.
He didn’t know how long he searched, but he got no closer to finding Brend. The hallway never ended. The doors all looked the same — and with the secrets screaming at him, it made it impossible to hear what was behind them.
No clues lined the blank walls. He was far too terrified to open any of the doors. But even though he desperately wanted to panic and escape, he didn’t. Brend was counting on him.
So he had to be brave. He had to press on.
He closed his eyes and began to comb through his memories of Deathtreader. Words and stories flashed across his eyes; he could practically hear the crinkle of the pages as he flipped through them. Then he came to the story of the sleeping girl, and he stopped:
She was not in our world and not in Death’s, but stuck somewhere in between. I walked the Threshold twice over before I realized this, and then I felt like a fool. If she was not there or there, then she must be here: in the mind with me. And if that was the case, then surely all I would need to do is —
“Call her,” Kael finished aloud. He didn’t know if Brend was still in the mind or not, but it was the best idea he could think of. So he unplugged his ears and shouted: “Brend!”
Nothing. Not so much as a mumble came back to him. And to make matters worse, the secrets all began squawking “Brend!” as loudly as they could.
Kael tried his best to ignore them. “Brend!” he shouted over their chanting. “Brend! Brend! Br — oh, shut it! Shut up!”
He kicked the walls and beat them with his fists — which only seemed to amuse the secrets. They broke out in a round of ear-piercing cackles, screeching all the louder when Kael began to swear.
He was thinking very seriously about finding a monster of doubt to devour them when a powerful voice shook the halls:
“Here!”
The secrets went silent, the light in the hallway brightened, and Kael knew it was Brend who’d spoken — he was alive!
“Where are you?”
“Here!” Brend said again, and something rattled loudly at the end of his voice.
Kael followed the rattling sound, calling out every now and then, listening for Brend’s reply. He followed the noise to a door. When he called a final time, Brend’s reply shook it soundly — jolting it on its hinges. He knew without a doubt that Brend was trapped behind it.
He grasped the handle, pausing as he remembered what Deathtreader had said about going through doors: Once I decide to step in, in I must go. It’s far too dangerous to linger in a doorway: it would be better to lock myself up with a monster, than have set it loose upon the world.
With that steeling thought, Kael pulled the door open. He stepped inside and quickly slammed it shut. Nothing could have prepared him for what lay behind it.
The first thing he saw was Brend: his face was gaunt and pale, his limbs were thinner than Kael had remembered them being. Black, shining chords bound his arms and legs, holding them captive against a monstrous shadow.
The shadow was easily twice Brend’s height and cut roughly into the shape of a man. Its flesh shined wetly and seemed to bubble up as it shifted its weight. The shadow’s great limbs were connected to Brend’s, and it wielded him like a child’s toy: when the shadow stepped forward, Brend’s leg rose with it.
Brend raised his head, and his chin trembled as he muttered: “Here …”
Then his head collapsed upon his chest, and Kael watched in horror as the shadow swallowed him up. It pulled him into its folds and sealed his body away with a horrible, smacking sound.
The room shook as the shadow rolled its head back. The black lumps across its face became a nose and a mouth. From the top of its skull sprouted a familiar shock of hair. Then it clasped its hands above its head — and brought them down with a roar.
Fear sent Kael into a dive.
He narrowly missed being crushed to death. The shadow’s arms came down, and he rolled away — grasping at his memories, trying to figure out what to do.
I would rather do battle in the mind than anywhere in the actual realm, Deathtreader had written. For here there are no limitations of strength or flesh: I may wield any weapon I choose.
That was it! He remembered the stories, now — of the times when Deathtreader had no choice but to fight. A man couldn’t carry a weapon into the mind: he had to imagine it.
Kael’s bow was the first thing that came to him. He gasped a little when he felt his hand curl around its familiar, worn leather grip, but managed to keep his concentration. The gray shaft sprouted from the grip, complete with its strange, curling marks. The string bent the bow tight. Kael reached behind him and felt the coarse fletching of his arrows. He nocked one swiftly and took his aim.
He didn’t want to risk striking Brend, so he fired for the top of the shadow’s head — and grinned when it struck true.
The shadow stumbled backwards for a moment, its large feet leaving a trail of sticky black goo behind, and Kael thought it would surely fall. But at the last moment, it regained its balance. Black tendrils sprouted from the shadow’s head and wrapped around the arrow’s shaft, sucking it down into the blackness — just like it’d done to Brend. Then the monster advanced.
Its gooey flesh quickly swallowed Kael’s next two shots, and he realized that the bow wasn’t going to do him any good. Perhaps if he hacked the shadow into pieces, he might be able to pull Brend free.
A sticky arm swooped over his head, and Kael didn’t have time to imagine anything specific — just something sharp. He swung blindly above him and heard the shadow roar as a good portion of its arm fell away. He was surprised when he looked down and saw a giant’s scythe clutched in his hands.
But his blow didn’t stop the shadow’s charge. The severed end of its arm melted and ran back into its legs, and a new arm sprouted up from the stump. Kael was so busy staring that he didn’t see the shadow’s other arm — until it caught him in the chest.
It felt as if he sailed backwards for a full minute. When he finally struck the wall, he collapsed in a heap upon the ground. The shadow’s rumbling steps shook the floor as it hurried towards him, swinging its arms madly as it fought to pull its sticky feet free, closing the gap between them at an alarming pace.
Kael ached all over, but he dragged himself to his feet. Bits of the shadow stained his shirt. When he stuck his fingers to it, he realized that it felt more wet and slick than sticky. Almost like grease …
An idea came to him, so swiftly that he didn’t have time to doubt himself. The shadow’s arm shot out to grab him, and Kael imagined that he was holding a torch. Heat cros
sed his hand as the torch flared to life. He grit his teeth and thrust the orange blaze into the monster’s middle.
Fire burst from the end of the torch. It swarmed over the shadow’s flesh, roaring as it ate. The flames fed greedily through the greasy layers. Great chunks of shadow sloughed off and struck the ground, where they were quickly burned away.
Though the shadow flailed its limbs and threw its body upon the floor, it couldn’t stop the fire from doing its work. Within seconds, the monster had disappeared, leaving only a trail of smoke in its place.
Brend now stood alone in the middle of the room, alive and unharmed. He smiled as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Kael had made to run towards him when a great blast of wind threw him backwards. He rolled into the hallway and the door slammed shut behind him. He scrambled to his feet, prepared to charge back in … but then he noticed something odd.
The Threshold had changed. Tapestries now lined the walls, filled to their ends with pictures of people, lands, and beasts. Shelves stood beside the doors, each one covered to the top with plain, sturdy trinkets.
Kael nearly cried out in relief.
This was how the Threshold was supposed to look. It was supposed to be bright and full. Brend’s spirit must be free. He must’ve returned to the Inner Sanctum, the place Deathtreader called the house of the soul.
Kael’s work was done, then. Brend was the master of his own mind once again.
There was a part of him that wanted to stay, to wander through the halls a little longer and discover all of the places that Deathtreader had spoken of. But Kael knew it would be wrong of him to stay any longer.
So he walked back down the hall, to the front of the Threshold, and went out the way he’d come.
*******
