Kane’s eyes lingered on his daughter’s sleeping figure just a few feet away. How could he keep her safe out here? She’d made it clear that she did not want to return to the underground palace, and for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to force her. She’d been pent up long enough, a prisoner of a war she had not started.
But if Malus finds out…
He shuddered, knowing the Queen would instantly recognize Ever as her granddaughter.
Kane’s gaze shifted to the dragon. It wasn’t going to be easy to travel with such a large beast. How was he going to get them safely to Necrosia?
Just then, Ever stirred from her sleep. Sitting up and stretching, she took in her surroundings with a smile.
“Morning, Daddy,” she said in a sleepy voice.
“Morning,” he replied. “How did you sleep?”
She nodded and grinned. “Very good, despite all the lumps and bumps.” She patted the ground beneath her.
“We should get going soon,” Kane commented, standing and slinging his pack over his shoulder.
She nodded slowly. “Can I…come with you?” Her voice was small and hopeful.
Kane sighed heavily, his heart torn. Finally, he surrendered. “Yes,” he said over her clapping and giggling, “but you have to do exactly what I say, do you understand? No questions asked.”
“I promise!” Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.
“Now,” Kane said as he eyed the dragon. “What do we do with him?”
“What do you mean?” Ever inquired, taking a protective step towards Arcanum.
“Well, we can’t just fly around on a two ton dragon, can we? Malus will be alerted within minutes,” he explained.
A sly grin crept over her face. “Well,” she began, petting the dragon’s head, “you don’t know much about dragons, do you?”
New Worlds
The great wall loomed before them. Its dark form snaked over the landscape as far as the eye could see, obedient to every curve of netherworld’s physique. Amber magma burbled and rolled sluggishly through the winding moat, preventing the two shades from getting any closer to the barrier.
Fate brought her gaze to the top of the wall, then the bottom, searching for a way over or through. The bricks of black stone stretched over twenty feet in the air, razor-sharp steel points protruding from the top like fangs.
“Where’s the door,” she asked Vale in a hushed voice as though someone—or something—could be listening on the other side.
“It’s enchanted,” Vale said, raising his hands at the obstruction, then uttering quietly, “Expositus.”
On cue, a loud grinding disturbed the air followed by a grumbling underfoot. Before them, a large stone gate guided by steel chains lowered. Clearing the magma river, it slammed with a thud only inches before their toes.
“Let’s go,” Vale said confidently, waving her forward as he stepped onto the temporary bridge.
Fate swallowed hard, fear of the unknown crawling under her skin like a thousand venomous spiders. What if this was a trap? She could be setting herself up for serious trouble. If she went in there, would she be able to get out again? Her sight fell on Vale. Could she trust him?
He gave her a reassuring smile and gallantly offered his hand to her. “Come on,” he urged. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
Shakily, she placed her hand into his and walked over the threshold.
Ever laughed at her father’s petrified expression. His talons gripped tightly around the dragon’s shoulder scales, he looked ready to jump off—or vomit—at any given moment. The ground faded from view while Arcanum climbed higher and higher, diving and dodging the fang-like ceiling at breakneck speeds.
“Been awhile since you’ve flown?” she hollered back at him, her body perched nearest the dragon’s head. Arcanum’s entire body, now the shade of chocolate, was perfectly camouflaged against the darkened stalactites.
Her father nodded, swallowing hard as though fearing he might lose his lunch. “Not used to…the maneuvering, I suppose,” he answered, his bluish-black skin paling.
“This is fun!” Arcanum commented to Ever.
Arcanum banked hard to the left, causing his passengers to cling harder. Ever sent him the message to take it easier, despite the joy she was getting from it.
“How did you know…he could do this?” her father asked.
“What? Change color?” She conjured a lie quickly, not wanting her father to know she could speak with the dragon telepathically and that he’d told her he was a chameleon years ago. “I saw him do it…in the garden.”
“Okay, but how does he know to do it right now?” her father asked but was promptly silenced when Arcanum decided to do a full roll through the sky, spinning the ground and sky into one.
Ever giggled as she clung tighter to the dragon’s neck, but heard her father stifle what she thought might have been a scream.
Her long hair cascaded behind her, the wind running its transparent fingers over every strand. She raised her arms, closed her eyes and simply embraced the warm air as it rushed past her.
“Ever, please hang on,” her father pleaded.
She was free. Never had anything felt so wonderful. The scents, the sounds, the feel of Dark World, it was hope come alive. A dream made real.
“You must warn him to be cautious,” Arcanum urged suddenly, breaking her moment of serenity.
“Of what?”
The great dragon leveled out, reining in his aeronautics to a tranquil glide. “The necromancers. They are very powerful beings, at one with the energies of the earth…both good and bad.”
She frowned. “There are bad energies in the earth?”
“Yes, tell him to be mindful…mistrustful if necessary. They will not relinquish their scroll easily.”
Ever nodded, though she had no idea how she could relay this message without giving away her secret connection with Arcanum. She pondered for a moment until she realized that the great wall was approaching quickly. Turning back to face her father, she summoned the words.
“Um, Father, have you ever met any necromancers?”
He shook his head, looking both relieved and more comfortable now that the dragon’s flight had far less turbulence. “No, they are a very elusive race.”
She pressed on, hoping the conversation would fall into place. “Have you heard much about them?”
Her father sighed, his brows pressed. “My father told me stories of them when I was young, they are very powerful beings. Shapeshifters and manipulators of the dead.”
Ever’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Manipulators of the dead! Whatever does that mean?”
He suppressed a smile. “I’m not exactly sure, and I’m not sure I want to.”
She saw her moment and moved in. “Are you sure we can trust them? Maybe they won’t want to give us their scroll. Maybe they work with the…dark energies.”
Her father rolled the thought around, then nodded. “Yes, they might be of the dark nature, that’s why I’m going in alone.”
“What?! I thought we were in this together!” Ever’s heart picked up pace.
“Ever,” he started in his most parental tone, eyes focused sternly upon her. “Remember when I said that if you were to come along, you’d have to do as I say, no questions asked?”
She nodded reluctantly and quashed the urge to roll her eyes at him.
“I want you and Arcanum to stay in the Opal Meadows and I’ll continue to the gate alone.”
Tears found their way to the corners of her eyes. “What if…something happens to you?”
He sighed, then reached out, placing his dark hand upon her alabaster arm. “If I don’t return after one night, fly home and seek help. Do you promise you will abide by my wishes?”
She contemplated tearing her arm from his gentle touch, throwing a tantrum and demanding he take her with him. She wished he would consider taking Arcanum, at the very least he’d provide protection and an element of intimidation.
The princess closed her eyes and said in a defeated voice, “Fine, I’ll do as you ask.”
Macabre
The drawbridge groaned shut behind them, then sealed with a resounding slam. Fate felt panic claw its way to the base of her throat as she surveyed the sprawling metropolis of Necrosia. It was so much bigger than she’d imagined. So many powerful beings in a single area. A nervous flutter occupied her stomach and she wondered again if this was a good idea. How well did she really know Vale? Could he be trusted? She tried to calm herself with the notion that he was also from Edmonton when he lived on the Surface, somehow hoping there was an invisible bond of trust that held them together because they were both human. In another life, anyways.
They moved forward into the strange city, the odd cobblestone streets catching her attention. Rounded stones half buried beneath the reddish soil, only, on closer inspection, she realized that they weren’t stones—they were the tops of skulls.
She lifted her gaze. Took a good look around. Took in all in. Then let the horror sink in.
Bones.
The entirety of Necrosia was built from the bones of various beasts and humanoids. Skulls, ribcages, femurs, and more, were all on display, arranged into a plethora of macabre structures. Assembled like pale bricks, the skeletal remains stretched across the city. All sizes, from tiny to colossal, the bones acted as walls and ceilings for the patrons. Held together by what appeared to be gold twine, they were at the very least, articulately placed.
Fate thought she might have to physically close her mouth, her jaw being agape for so long as she absorbed the creepy nature of the necromancer city. She wrapped Deme’s pitch cloak tighter around herself, hoping the material would hug her in return, giving her the courage to move forward through this ghoulish city of the dead.
“Vale, you’ve returned,” a monotone voice said from behind them.
Vale spun around with a grin of recognition. “Xia, this is my friend, Fate.”
Fate turned and locked eyes with Xia—a necromancer. She was not at all what Fate would have imagined one of her kind to look like. Skin of pure silver, it shimmered with her every movement. It even had a water-like quality to it, undulating. Like liquid steel.
At least a head taller than Fate, she was clothed in a semi-translucent gown of ivory with circlets of gold clasped onto her lean arms and wrists, the dress flowed eloquently over her toned body. It reminded Fate of the ancient Greeks’ attire on the Surface.
Long blue hair cascaded over her shoulders with the grace of a waterfall, spilling over breasts and curling every so stylishly at the tips. A strand of beaded gems, alternating rubies and sapphires, collared her swan-like neck.
It was her eyes, however, that mesmerized Fate. Akin to a spiral galaxy, they spun with shades of silver and blue, coiling into a glowing center. They were intoxicating. Hypnotic. And cold.
“Did you just return?” she asked, ignoring his introduction to Fate.
He nodded, adding, “I found her in the Crystalline Forest,” he said, tilting his head in Fate’s direction. “She was born alone,” he lowered his voice, glancing around as he spoke.
Xia’s churning eyes widened marginally and an eloquent eyebrow raised. “Well, Vrill will be most intrigued with this development.”
Before Fate could ponder their conversation further, a deafening gong rang out.
Hordes of silver-skinned necromancers emerged from their bony dwellings, filling the square in which she, Vale and Xia stood.
“Shall we?” Xia extended an arm to Vale, who in turn, graciously accepted. As though they’d forgotten about her, the two moved ahead, leaving Fate to trail behind with uncertainty climbing into her psyche.
The throng filed towards a large building in the center of the city. An enormous stadium. Akin to the Olympic stadium on the Surface, the bleachers filled with excited onlookers. Many of them shades.
“I thought you said there were only a few shades living here!” Fate hissed at Vale who wore a cool smirk as he and Xia meandered toward the seating area.
“There is,” he stated. “A few hundred.”
Her eyes darted about the arena nervously. “And…they’re all rogues like us?”
“Look! The races are about the start!” he exclaimed. “Come on!”
Spark peeped quietly into her ear. Fate’s gaze swept over a few shades sitting close by, hunger in their eyes as they eyed the tiny phoenix perched on her shoulder. She immediately took hold of him and tucked him into her pack. It hadn’t dawned on her that she was putting him in danger, but now her stomach churned with worry for the little bird. How could she have forgotten that shades were soul-thirsty beings without mercy? Hadn’t she heard that enough from the demons? The wraiths? What was she thinking bringing her poor little friend along? It was a good thing, she supposed, that Ick had gone missing, they would have eaten him alive. Literally.
The gong sounded again. Roars of excitement thundered through the stadium.
Fate leaned over to Vale and asked, “What’s going on?”
“We got here just in time!” He grinned. “The games are about to begin.”
“What games?” She was becoming impatient with him. His demeanor had changed since they’d entered the city.
He shushed her and joined the raucous masses in their cacophony of cheers. Huffing loudly and firing a glare of displeasure in Vale’s direction, she turned her attention to the impending festivities.
A dozen necromancers, clad in crimson capes, sat in high back chairs at the head of the arena, their silver skin rippling.
All at once, they stood and silence fell over the crowd. The twelve necromancers raised their heads and hands to the covered sky, uttering low words of enchantment. Their voices hollow, blending in a chant.
Fate looked up, bits and pieces of the sky was falling. Chunks of soil rained onto the floor of the stadium.
What on earth are they doing?
She’d given up on asking Vale what was going on. He’d fallen unresponsive. Ignoring her.
What was she doing here? Hadn’t she learned not to follow strange boys?
This was a bad idea.
Her thoughts fell on the demon city. Why hadn’t she just stayed? What did it matter how Kane felt about her? Who cared if he didn’t trust her? Or hated her? At least she would have been safe. At least she would have had Ever. And Ick. Regret clawed at her heart. How she wished she could turn back time.
Streams of dirt cascaded from Dark World’s roof, until one, two, then three objects fell from the canopy, landing with a thud. More and more plummeted until the number hit twelve. She narrowed her eyes, straining to see beyond the cloud of dust.
What are those? Are they…rocks?
The necromancers that had performed the—whatever it was—then shifted their focus to the lumps strewn about the field, chanting and emitting beams of red light from their hands, light which reached out and touched each of the objects.
Soon, they started to twitch.
Then stand.
Fate gasped as she realized what she was looking at. Bile rose into her throat.
Oh my god! Are those what I think they are?
Unstable and wobbly upon twisted legs, torn garments barely masking the glimpses of bone and rotted flesh. Pasty skulls peeked through fine, wispy strands of hair on their crowns. Open sores on their faces wept blackened blood while what remained of their teeth dangled precariously from decomposed lips and gums.
As though pulled with invisible strings to the head of the arena, the twelve dragged themselves like lolling, unsteady puppets to where the red-cloaked necromancers sat.
The crowd cheered as the humanoid creatures marched closer to what appeared to be the start of the race.
A voice boomed excitedly overhead. “Welcome to the 300th annual Zombie Races!”
“Zombie Races?”
Fate repeated, both disgusted and curious.
Vale turned to her, explaining, “Yah, there’s a graveyard on Surface above us.” His chin lifted slightly, pointing upwards. “Every year, the necromancers summon the dead and…well, here we have it.”
Fate was appalled. “You watch this? Like some kind of underworld Olympics?”
He grinned. “It’s really fun, just watch.” His eyes pleaded with hers momentarily, then Xia, who’d apparently been eavesdropping, added in an arctic tone, “It’s a tradition.”
Fate couldn’t believe it. Such disrespect for the dead. On the Surface, people who died were buried in graveyards and given reverence. Put to rest, or so she thought, anyways. This was no way to treat the dead—or undead—for that matter.
Fate turned a reluctant eye to the scene below.
Almost all of the zombies were so badly decayed that they came across as androgynous, neither male nor female—except for one. She stood out from the rest. Petite, blonde hair in a short pixie cut (wild as it was) and clad in a pink prom dress which was tattered and shredded like a morbid Barbie doll. Her skin looked almost intact, nearly pleasant compared to her competitors. She didn’t appear to have been dead for long.
A spark of red electricity suddenly lit up the sky, popping and exploding like a firecracker.
The race was on.
With moans and groans, the zombies willed their clumsy bodies forward around the track. Eyes lolling from their sockets and useless legs dragging behind a few, the poor creatures pulled themselves around the arena. Fate watched in disgusted horror as they tripped, bit and beat on one another. Some even tossed bits and pieces of their eviscerated bodies on the track like a slippery banana peel in waiting.
Roars of laughter thundered around Fate, the cruel heckling and jeering molding a knot in her stomach.
This just wasn’t right. How could Vale—or anyone else—think this was humorous? Didn’t they see that this was sick?
Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy) Page 21
