I keep this last bit of weirdness to myself. And they don’t press me for details about how I know where to go. They just trust me and follow in silence, and I’m grateful that whatever lies at the end of this trail, we’ll at least be facing it together.
Chapter Twenty
After an hour or so of running, my mind becomes numb to the pain in my back.
Most of my senses are numb, really, except for that unexplainable sixth sense that connects me to the Earth key and makes me feel like we’re still going in the right direction.
Another hour passes.
That feeling might be the only thing keeping me moving.
Then I start to lose the sensation in my paws, and I worry that even that key’s pull isn’t going to be enough to carry me onward. I slow a bit, and, after catching my breath, I suddenly realize that we aren’t alone.
I feel that unmistakable chill in my bones, and I know there are Anima on our trail.
They’re too far back to properly see—just a black line forming in the distance. I watch them over my shoulder for a moment. They don’t seem to come any closer.
(Waiting for the queen to open the path for them to march through?) Liam wonders.
The thought fills me with dread. But there’s relief, too, because if they’ve slowed to a stop, then maybe that means we’re getting close.
And then Carys says: (Look.)
She’s several hundred feet ahead of both me and Liam, so we have to race to the top of a hill before we can properly ‘look’. We reach her side, and the sight in the distance makes my exhausted legs nearly crumple beneath me.
Blue sky.
It bleeds to red after a short distance, but the patch of sapphire is unmistakable, as is the substance that’s falling around the edges of this oasis of clarity.
(That looks like the dust that fell before you disappeared on us,) Liam says.
(And it’s similar to the stuff that appeared after we used my dad’s experiment to get us here.) She takes a few cautious steps down the hill. (Do you think it’s safe to touch?)
Liam snorts. (Practically nothing in this world is safe to touch. Have you not realized that yet?)
(You know what I meant,) she fires back. (Will it safely transport us to where we need to go?)
(Only one way to find out, right?) I say, breaking into a run.
I hear Carys let out an uncertain whine behind me, and she halfheartedly suggests that maybe I should take a break and heal a little before charging into battle.
But that speck of blue sky feels like a sign that we’re almost out of time.
So I run faster.
My injuries are slowing me down, though—so the other two catch up with me just as I reach the light of the clear sky. I feel the key’s pull stronger than ever. And the curtain of falling dust seems to react as I approach, the individual streams of it bending inward and creating a thicker, almost solid column that reaches up and disappears into the sky.
I leap toward it.
It isn’t as solid as it looks. I crash right through it, and when I awkwardly hit the ground on the other side, it gives slightly under my weight. Cold wind whistles around me as I stand and regain my balance. Liam and Carys land beside me a moment later. That porous ground lights with a phosphorescent sort of glow as they brace their full weight against it, and that’s when I lift my head, and I realize where we are.
The Bridge of Worlds.
Or A Bridge of Worlds, at least. I’m not sure if it’s the same one we first crossed over. I’m not sure where it leads. But just as before, there are parallel bridges as far as we can see in either direction. And there’s nothing but darkness ahead of us.
(What now?) Liam asks, trotting a few curious steps forward before doubling back.
I don’t have to answer him. Because at that moment we see a flash of yellow light in the distance. It reminds me of the stuff we call ‘heat lightning’ back home—the flickers that light up faraway clouds on hot summer nights. Signs that there’s a storm going on somewhere relatively close, even if you can’t hear the thunder or feel the rain.
We start to run toward that distant storm.
It looks and feels like we’re getting nowhere, just like when I was on that decoy bridge before. I start to slow down, hoping another vision might flicker in my head and show me where to go. I don’t think I’ve ever actually hoped for a weird vision before, but here we are.
Either way, it doesn’t come.
I lower my head and run faster, fully aware that I’m getting dangerously, stupidly desperate, and that I should probably stop and come up with a better plan, but—
But there’s no time, because a BOOM suddenly shakes the air, the sound like a combination of thunder roaring and wind slamming a door shut, and I know it means we’re getting closer to the storm. A storm that’s seconds away from spiraling out of control.
And then suddenly I can see them: the ones creating the storm. Light flashes and it illuminates two dark figures standing with their backs to us.
In front of them, I can see the Earth key hovering, bolts of energy twisting out from the emblem on its top.
On either side of them, there are a pair of sentinels—Anima. Their attention is currently being drawn by that key, followed by another of those massive booms that causes the air to light again—and then to darken as clouds form and swirl in the air above them.
(Okay, plan,) I think quickly.
(You mean you actually have one of those?) Liam asks.
(As of two seconds ago, yes. Sort of.)
(Sort of?)
(You two split up. Two guards a piece, you can handle that right? Hurry up, maybe before they see us coming—)
(And you are…?)
(Going for the key, obviously.)
(The one being held by two incredibly powerful sorcerers?)
(I’m not going to be facing both of them. I’m going to make Soren see reason, and then we’ll deal with his mother together.)
Liam and Carys are silent, but I can feel the doubt hanging in the air between us.
I refuse to let it slow me down.
It’s stupid, maybe. But now that I see him again I’m no longer content with the idea of only accomplishing two out of three objectives. I’m not giving up on dealing with the queen and getting the key and getting Soren back. We’ve battled monsters, crossed worlds, fought and made up so many times I’ve lost count—this is just one last test, and it’s nothing compared to the things we’ve already faced.
Or so I try to tell myself.
My silence must convince my friends that I’m serious about my half-assed plan, because they both speed past me a moment later.
(Hang back until we’ve got them fully distracted,) Liam says, the grim, reluctant acceptance noticeable even in the diluted tones of his thoughtspeech. (And then you can sprint forward and take the queen and Soren by surprise.)
I nod, even though it’s hard to make myself move slower. To watch them race ahead of me. Instincts make me want to stay with my pack, but I force my gaze to the key and keep it there.
Eyes on the prize.
As I zero in on it, a tingling sensation ripples through me. I swear I see that key twitching, as if it’s awakened to my presence. And maybe it has. I remember the way it seemed to stand at attention when my emotions were getting the better of me during that practice session a few days ago…
She is a guardian of the key, but in many ways the key is also a guardian of her.
The harder I think about the memory of Elric’s words, the harder that key shakes—but it still hasn’t stopped throwing bolts of electricity off, and those jagged lines of current seem to be cutting a portal into the air; a blackness that’s growing wider and taller at the command of the key and the queen and Soren’s outstretched hands. It’s nearly big enough to swallow up the bridge and everyone on it. In minutes, it will be more than large enough to suck up that army that was trailing us, and to spit them out, presumably, on Earth.
S
o Earth looks to be about two minutes away from being totally screwed.
Luckily, I just got a new idea.
(I’m going to shift back to human.)
Carys stumbles in her sprint toward her targeted Anima. (What?)
(I’m going to try to be as unstable as possible, and see if I can make the key unstable too, so that it stops cooperating with the queen or whatever.)
I would have loved to have had Carys agree to this plan, for my confidence’s sake. But before she can reply, that Anima closest to her notices her charge. It spins to face her with a horrifying screech. Near the other edge of the bridge, Liam’s targets do the same.
With both of them distracted and no time to second guess myself, I begin to change.
It’s a sloppy transformation—considering it’s done mid-run and surrounded by distractions—but this time, the chaos works to my advantage.
Even before my human eyes have focused, I can tell that the key has stopped firing energy. The queen and Soren stop a moment later, after it becomes clear that said key is no longer cooperating with their plans. It spins wildly for a moment before the narrow end slows to a stop, pointing in my direction. Soren reaches for it, trying to snatch it from the air and secure it.
His mother seems to forget it even exists.
She turns, and she has eyes only for me.
I’m incredibly glad that, along with my clothing, I successfully transformed the sword along with that sheath that’s attached to my hip. Because the first word that springs to mind when I finally meet Soren’s mother face-to-face is terrifying.
I understand why she uses that dragon-like creature as her emblem.
She looks like she might be part dragon, the way her eyes are narrowed so fiercely that they resemble a serpent’s. She’s clearly old—the silver hair, the wrinkles on her face, and the dark spots on her skin all betray the ways that this world has aged her unnaturally fast. But there’s absolutely nothing frail about her appearance. Her chin and cheeks are sharp, her jaw powerful and pronounced, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see that jaw fall open to allow her to start breathing fire. Her lips are painted a deep, burnt red that makes that fire even easier to imagine.
On either side of me I hear growls and yelps, the swish of swords, the clang of claws and fangs hitting the Anima’s armor—sounds that tell me my friends are still fiercely battling. But I can’t afford to let my gaze get caught up in what they’re doing.
Because the Dusk Queen is stepping toward me now, the hem of her midnight cloak trailing over the ground with unnaturally loud swish swish swishes.
I fight the desire to take a step back as her shadow overtakes me.
I grapple for the hilt of my sword, taking it in both my sweaty palms and gripping it tightly.
“I wondered if we would get the chance to meet.” Her voice is smooth. Too young for her appearance. “My son has told me so much about you.”
My eyes flicker to Soren, who has successfully pulled the key from the air and is cradling it against his chest. He’s staring back at me. There’s something off about his expression; he looks like he’s just waking up, like he’s reluctant to leave behind whatever dream he was having.
“What did you do to him?” I demand. “What sort of illusions did you put into his mind?”
“He wanted to help me,” she says, feigning innocence. “I hardly had to plant more than a light suggestion, and now here we are.”
I try to skirt around her and appeal directly to Soren instead.
“Give me the key,” I beg, holding out my hand. “You don’t want to help her. This is all wrong and you know it. Something in you knows it—”
He shakes his head. He looks wide awake, suddenly, and the conviction and clarity in his voice is terrifying. “No,” he says, “For once, everything is actually all right. This is the only thing I wanted. This is the reason I came into this world.”
“No, it’s not.”
“She’s my family. And we’re going to—”
“Just because you share the same blood doesn’t mean she’s your family!”
He draws back as if I’ve physically hit him. Something strange lights on his face momentarily—anger? Realization? Horror? Disbelief? Some weird combination of all those things?
Before I can decide what it is, a claw-like hand grabs my shoulder.
“You could help us,” his mother says.
I try to shrug her off, but she digs her fingers in even deeper.
“I can bend the key’s power to my will, obviously, given enough time. But since you’re here, it only makes sense for you to use your stronger connection to the key to make this a much less messy job.”
“I wouldn’t help you if my life depended on it,” I say, teeth clenching.
“No?”
I jerk free enough that I’m able to twist around and face her—just in time to see her lips curl into a smirk as she lifts a hand and beckons. As she does, I hear the sound of armor shuffling and metal boots stomping, and a moment later no less than ten more Anima appear from the shadowy part of the bridge behind us.
“What if their lives depended on it?” she asks, gesturing toward Liam and Carys.
Carys has already dealt with both of the two Anima she was fighting—one is motionless on the ground, the other is nowhere in sight; it went over the edge, I’m guessing.
The two Liam had been fighting are now devouring each other after sustaining wounds that sent the magical energy flowing from their bodies.
Both of my friends are warily watching the new enemies approaching us, and both of them are slowly standing up straighter. They’re heaving for breath, their fur matted with blood and their limbs shaking a bit as they try to brace themselves.
“I can give the order for my soldiers to halt,” the queen says. “We don’t have to fight; we could work together, and I’ll spare everyone you want me to. I’ll even help you all safely cross this portal and get back to your families. And then I’ll leave you be. This doesn’t have to have anything to do with you, you know—you were the unfortunate soul chosen to carry the keys I needed, but now you’ve delivered them, and this is your chance to walk away from it all. Help me one last time, and then I will personally see to it that you live a peaceful life after we get back to Earth.”
(Don’t listen to her, Elle,) Liam interjects.
(We’re fine,) Carys insists.
“You want to walk away from all of this without looking back, don’t you?”
I do. More than anything, really.
But I can’t.
So I remain silent.
Silence is its own kind of answer. Enough of an answer that irritation begins to appear in the form of little lines creasing her forehead, and in her eyes that change from a blueish green to something far darker and stormier.
“Well?” she prompts.
I double check my grip on my sword, preparing to unsheathe it.
“Keep working on the portal,” she says crossly to Soren. “Her presence may disturb the key, but she isn’t powerful enough to render it unusable.”
My eyes meet his for the briefest of seconds. I mouth the word don’t.
I swear, in that short instant, that I see the real Soren surface and gaze back.
But then he looks back to the Dusk Queen, and he nods.
And with a rise and fall of that queen’s hand, the Anima charge.
I try to intercept the ones heading for Carys, as she’s closer to me, but the queen cuts me off. Her knee slams into my side. One hand grabs a fistful of my hair and keeps me from hitting the ground, then it jerks me back up to meet her other hand, which clasps my face.
Knowing what I do about illusionists and touch, I scramble to get away from hers. I grab her arm and focus on transforming just my nails into claws. She hardly flinches as blood wells up and streaks down her skin, but even just a slight recoil is enough to allow my superior strength to wrench me free.
I sprint a few steps, turn back, and draw my sword.
/> She kneels, places a bloody hand to the bridge.
I watch as its surface shifts.
It turns a deep bluish-black, mirroring the spaces beyond it so well that it’s difficult to tell where the actual edges of this bridge begin and end. Disorienting to say the least. I try not to look down, to keep my eyes on her as she smiles and pulls her hands toward her chest, drawing energy up through it and shaping it into the form of a fireball.
I’m no expert, but at this point I think I can spot the difference between illusionary and elemental magic—I’ve seen enough of it. I think this is real. I could be wrong.
When she hurls it toward me, I decide not to take my chances with it.
I dive out of the way.
But the darkness at my feet is spreading. I can’t tell what is and isn’t a safe place to land anymore, and I overshoot my landing, nearly hurtling over the bridge’s edge.
A yelp echoes through the air a moment later, followed by the scritch-scratching of paws desperate for purchase, which tells me that either Liam or Carys—it sounded like Liam, I think—nearly had the same terrifyingly long fall I almost did.
Some of the Anima might have already met that fate.
Something tells me this so-called queen doesn’t care.
She’s using them, same as she used Anika. Same as she’s trying to use Soren.
Fresh loathing bristles through me, awakening strength that I didn’t know I had. It makes yanking myself back onto the relatively sturdy surface of the bridge easy. Once there, I crawl toward the safety of the center—or what I gage to be the center, in the middle of the illusioned abyss—and I stand.
I sweep a glance over the bridge behind me, long enough to see that Liam and Carys are both still accounted for; they’re standing back to back, keeping toward the center of the bridge and refusing to let the Anima draw them too far from it. But they’re outnumbered—and with only one safe place to stand, overcoming the odds stacked against them is looking increasingly unlikely.
This needs to end.
I look forward.
Silver and Shadow (The Canath Chronicles Book 2) Page 18
