The Obsidian Tower

by Melissa Caruso

  I stared at her in horror. There was no bravado in her voice; it was bald statement of fact. She could do it.

  She grinned. It was too sharp, too wide, but the mischief in it was familiar, and it broke my heart. “Still,” she said, “it’d be more fun to trick them into fighting each other instead of us.”

  Something about her tone froze my breath in my lungs. “It was you,” I whispered.

  She cocked her head in question, bands of shadow sliding across her face.

  “You sent the bird telling Vikal about the gate.” I stepped back, pressing my fingers to my mouth. “You were the one who sent the message to Ardith that brought them here, too, about the Black Tower being open.”

  “I always did like Ardith. They’re a creature of chaos.” A mix of exasperation and affection colored my grandmother’s voice. She sounded like herself. But then she laughed, and it was a demon’s laugh. “I knew they’d stir things up.”

  A creature of chaos. She’d deliberately let loose the secret about the gate—the one thing certain to set all the nations of Eruvia at each other’s throats.

  “You’re the Demon of Discord,” I whispered.

  I stood in the Old Great Hall after my grandmother left, gone as suddenly and silently as her namesake owls into the night shadows. I held myself utterly still, as if any movement might cause me to come apart in a thousand skittering pieces. The horrifying implications of what I’d unleashed fell on me one after another, hard and heavy as masonry blocks.

  I rubbed my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut on the hot tears brimming in them. “Think,” I muttered. “Think.”

  I had to take this one piece at a time. Even the Grace of Victory couldn’t destroy the gate and find a murderer and avert a war and restore my grandmother and keep the Shrike Lord off our backs all at once. I needed to pick one thing I could do, one step I could take, and do everything in my power to forget about the rest until that step was done.

  My grandmother is the Demon of Discord, and it’s all my fault.

  “Sweet Grace of Mercy,” I groaned, pushing my fingers up into my hairline.

  “Hey. Were you going to leave us waiting forever?” Ashe’s whisper echoed through the hall.

  Ashe and Foxglove leaned on the balcony railing above me, peering down, near invisible in a patch of shadow.

  “Severin is gone, yes?” Foxglove glanced around the room. “We hadn’t heard voices for a while, so we came to make certain you were still alive.”

  They didn’t know. They had no idea that one of the Nine Demons was already loose in this world, and things were so much worse than we’d thought.

  “I—yes, he’s gone.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. One thing at a time. “I need to talk to Vikal. Now.”

  Vikal stared at me a moment in shocked silence, his face blank as new snow, the news I’d just told him not yet written on it. Then pain twisted his features into a knot. He banged his fist against the wall of his guest room, startling a few butterflies that had lit there for the night. He shook out his hand, then punched the wall again, harder; I winced at the impact.

  “Curse everything. The whole world can go to the Hell of Nightmares. I’m done with it.” He’d taken off his eye paint to get ready for bed, and without it his face seemed younger and more vulnerable. “First Aunt Karrigan, then you almost died, and now this.”

  “I’m sorry.” My voice came out ragged at the edges. “This is my fault. I’m the one who let it through the gate.”

  Vikal whirled on me, the violet rings of his mage mark intense in twin pools of brimming tears. “Then you can go to the Nine Hells, too. And Lamiel, for meddling with the gate, and Grandmother, for never telling us anything, and for favoring you so much. All of you can go to the Hells together.”

  “Fine,” I said through my teeth. “But first we’ve got a lot to do.”

  Vikal shook his head, stunned. “Do? What can we do? We’re just third-generation athelings. Grandmother is the Witch Lord, with the domain in the palm of her hand, and she couldn’t do anything about this gate.”

  “Yes. Grandmother is the Witch Lord, with the domain in the palm of her hand.” I said each word with bruising force, because they hurt me too much to handle them gently. “And she’s a demon.”

  “Blood of the Eldest.” Vikal sank suddenly down into a chair, almost missing it.

  Now he was beginning to see what had haunted me all the way through the halls of Gloamingard on the way to his room. What I hadn’t even told Ashe and Foxglove yet, who waited outside, because Vikal was family and needed to hear it first.

  “She can use her power on humans now.” I drove the worst of it ruthlessly home. “We’d better hope she stays away. If she decides to take up the rule of Morgrain again, no one will be able to resist her commands.”

  “And how do you expect us to fix this?” Vikal flung his arms wide, as if to show me the impossibility of the situation.

  I knew too well how bad it was. “We can’t,” I said softly. “Not now. All we can do is keep it from getting worse.”

  “It can’t get any worse,” Vikal said despairingly, staring at his feet.

  “Oh, it can.” I crouched down to meet his eyes. “Vikal, listen to me. You’re an atheling, with a bond to the land and a duty to your people. You need to rise to the challenge and protect them now.”

  For a moment, I thought he would protest; I could see the complaint hovering on his lips, and in his helpless eyes. But his face twisted, he took a deep breath, and resolve settled on him like a cloak. “Fine. Tell me what to do.”

  I clapped his shoulder, an odd pride stirring in me. “First, you need to go warn the others.”

  He blanched. “My father. Hell of Nightmares, I have to tell my father that his mother is a demon.”

  “And mine, too,” I said, swallowing a hard lump. “I can’t entrust this message to anyone else. Only family. He’s looking for Grandmother now, and he’s too stubborn to stop, so we have to lie to him. Tell him she’s a demon, so that he’s warned, but tell him she’s somewhere else—on the far end of the domain—whatever it takes to keep him from confronting her. Because you know that won’t go well.”

  “Eldest, no,” Vikal groaned, pushing his hands into his purple hair. “Your father is even more bullheaded than Grandmother. It’d be a disaster. I’ll send the message, and I’ll warn all our cousins, too.”

  “And be ready to act,” I said grimly. “You and the rest—our fathers, our cousins, your siblings. If Grandmother misuses her power over the land, you’ll be the only ones who can counteract her.” You, not we: the words sat bitterly on my tongue. In this moment, all my family had to rise up together to deal with the threat of a lifetime, doing an atheling’s duty as none had ever needed to before, and I couldn’t be part of it.

  Vikal nodded with grim resolve, purpose kindling in his eyes. “I’ll do it. Morgrain can count on me, Ryxander.”

  “Good.”

  “What…” He hesitated, the awkwardness of the question bothering him for once. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll stay here and try to handle the political end and guard the gate,” I said. “We can’t risk anyone in the line of succession getting possessed, in case we figure out some way to get control of the domain away from Grandmother.” I didn’t mention the unspoken truth that the reason I didn’t count was because if I was ever at a real risk of inheriting the domain, they’d have to kill me anyway, to protect Morgrain from my destroying magic. “That’s crucial—please make sure everyone in the family knows to stay away and defend their own lands. It’ll be the only way we have a chance of reacting to Grandmother if the demon makes a move.”

  “All right.” Understanding shadowed his eyes; he knew that I was admitting I was expendable. “And you’ll handle the Empire and the Shrike Lord?”

  Part of me wanted to throw back my head and laugh until I cried. Instead I nodded, grave and solemn. “I will.”

  To my shock, Vikal reached out and let his han
d fall awkwardly on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the Warden of Gloamingard, Ryx,” he said, a grudging edge in his voice. “It’s good that you’re handling the politics. I can create a glorious chimera, and I know how to keep the land and livestock healthy in my villages, but I don’t know how to convince foreigners to do what I want when I can’t just order them around. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” I managed a smile. “I’m glad you’re here, too. The rest of the family will listen to you, and I know you’ll do a fine job protecting Morgrain.”

  Vikal gave me a fierce nod. “I’ll leave at once; I’ve enhanced Lancer’s eyes so she can see at night. Stay safe, don’t die, and seal the Door.”

  I couldn’t begin to understand the feelings churning in my stomach. The wrenching loss and horror over my grandmother was only beginning to take root—but now, for the first time, I felt that Vikal and I were truly family.

  “You too, Vikal,” I said softly. “Stay safe.”

  The flickering orange light of the fire in the Rookery sitting room cast harsh and changing shadows over their faces as they listened. When I was done, a grim, breathless silence prevailed.

  Even Foxglove couldn’t stay standing in the face of my dire news. He sank into a chair, his face gray-tinged. “A demon loose in the world. Graces preserve us all.”

  “That’s terrifying enough to banish sleep forever, but her dominion over the land makes it even worse.” Kessa shook her head as if dazed by the sheer horrifying scope of the problem; Ashe shifted closer to her. “I’m trying to think whether there’s anything we could do to sever that connection, so that we’re just dealing with one of the Nine Demons rather than a demon Witch Lord.”

  “Just,” Ashe grunted, with a humorless laugh.

  I shook my head. “In theory my uncle could travel around blooding the stones and trying to usurp her claim over the land, but she’d sense him doing it and stop him immediately. The Eldest might be strong enough to contest her for the domain—but they might not. We don’t really know how powerful demons are. And I don’t want to tell the Eldest she’s a demon, because there’s a chance they’d decide the safest solution is to destroy Morgrain.”

  “There’s something to that,” Ashe said, fingering Answer’s hilt. “Bit extreme, but it might work.”

  “I don’t think we need to go that far quite yet,” Kessa said, giving Ashe a stern glance. “If we can’t break her hold over the domain, what can we do?”

  “There’s got to be some way we can save her.” I looked pleadingly at Bastian. He was the scholar; he must know something that could help. “Some way to make her human again.”

  He winced as if my words burned him, turning his face away. A flush crept up his neck. “I don’t know. Some things aren’t easily undone.”

  “Ryx,” Foxglove said, his voice soft as the first flakes of winter. “We may need to look at other solutions.”

  “We’ll save her,” I insisted.

  The stare Foxglove leveled at me cut deeper than the assassin’s arrow had. “We can’t leave a demon as Witch Lord of Morgrain.”

  “Let’s be clear on one thing,” said a soft voice, smooth as silk and far stronger. “You don’t have a choice.”

  Whisper prowled into the middle of the room from some patch of shadow, nonchalant as if he’d been there the whole time. Ashe had half drawn Answer when he spoke; she slid it back into its sheath with a click.

  “Stupid chimeras,” she muttered.

  “Is he a chimera?” Kessa exclaimed, delighted. “He’s so—” I shook my head frantically at her, and she caught herself, clamping her lips shut on whatever offensively endearing adjective she’d been about to apply.

  Whisper’s tail flicked with annoyance. “I came to stop you from making a lethal mistake. I can leave if you prefer.”

  Foxglove bowed, deep and gracious as if Whisper were a visiting king. I supposed he’d seen stranger things. “My apologies. We’re listening.”

  Whisper leaped up onto the mantel, putting himself above everyone, and settled himself with regal poise. “First of all, demons can’t die. Second, while you could in theory destroy her host and force her to choose another one, you lack the power to challenge a Witch Lord or one of the Nine Demons, let alone a being who is both.”

  “What can we do?” I asked, nails digging into my leg, finding itching scar tissue where a serious wound had been an hour ago. “Resign ourselves to face the Dark Days all over again?”

  Whisper flicked a dismissive ear. “One demon hardly constitutes an apocalypse. Or rather, it depends on which demon.”

  Bastian started counting on shaking fingers. “Nightmares, Despair, Carnage, Madness, Disaster, Discord, Corruption, Hunger, and Death. All the options are terrible.”

  “I assure you, some of them are better than others.” Whisper licked a paw.

  “She’s the Demon of Discord,” I said, the admission weighing in my stomach like a stone. “She spread the word about the gate to the Hells to create chaos, and she’s trying to incite conflict in the area. And she didn’t deny it when I called her by that name.”

  “It seems likely,” Whisper agreed, his voice soft as shadows falling.

  “Forgive me, but why are you telling us this?” Foxglove asked, eyeing Whisper warily. “I’ve asked around about you—”

  “Have you.” Whisper’s tone was icy.

  “It’s my job.” Foxglove gave him a courteous bow—but he also hooked his thumbs in his belt, near his pistol and his pouches full of artifice devices. My pulse quickened. Whatever Foxglove had heard about Whisper, it was enough to make him nervous, though he hid it well. “Suffice to say, you’re not known for going out of your way to be helpful.”

  Whisper’s tail swished with annoyance. “I am not a pet or a servant, to spend my days helping humans. I have my own priorities. But those priorities are not served by you blundering around in complete ignorance, fouling everything up. Not when matters as volatile as the gate and the Nine Demons are concerned.”

  Or he simply wanted to control what information we had. He’d certainly tried to steer me away from certain subjects before. Either way, it only begged the question of how he knew so much about the Hells in the first place.

  Still, I wasn’t going to argue about his motives now, when for once he was in the mood to share.

  Ashe ran her fingers along the twists of artifice wire on her sword hilt, as if she itched to draw it. “All right, if you’re answering questions—how bad are the demons exactly? I’ve hunted chimeras that could wreck a town by themselves, but the stories of the Dark Days talk about fantastic stuff—rivers running with blood, day turning to night, earthquakes and hurricanes, the dead rising up from the earth, plagues that wiped out whole domains.”

  “The plagues were the Demon of Corruption.” Whisper’s lips lifted from his teeth, as if the name were distasteful. “The earthquakes and hurricanes were the Demon of Disaster. The rest were most likely Madness or Nightmare, though I suppose the rivers of blood could be the Demon of Carnage if it was literal rather than illusory.”

  My stomach sank into a dark, giddy abyss. “They can actually do things like that?”

  “Naturally.” He began cleaning a paw. “Some prefer to avoid such gauche displays, however. Discord, you’ll be happy to know, is usually subtler.”

  “Lovely.” I raked nervous fingers through the end of my braid, unraveling it. “So no rivers of blood from her, but we’d better watch out for, what… broken alliances and pointless wars? Economic collapse? General lawlessness?”

  “Discord’s schemes are often complex, and they keep changing in midcourse.” Whisper’s tail swished in disapproval. “She’s unpredictable by nature. She does generally take delight in turning mortals against each other to achieve her goals.”

  Ashe grunted. “Better than Carnage, I suppose.”

  A grim silence fell over the room for a moment, broken only by the popping of the fire. The urgent energy of fear began drai
ning out of me, and standing suddenly took more strength than I had left. I sank down on the hard edge of the hearthstone.

  “I’m sorry the Rookery got drawn into this,” I murmured. “This is probably going to get very messy before it’s over.”

  Kessa grimaced. “I can’t deny this mission is turning out to be about as much harmless fun as a bucket of stingroaches, but don’t be sorry. This is our duty. Your grandmother knew it would happen; that’s why she sent you to get us. Dealing with dangerous magic is our job—even if it’s never been quite this appallingly dangerous before.”

  Your grandmother knew it would happen. My hands clenched on my knees.

  “If she knew she would get possessed—if she knew that I let a demon through…” Of course she’d known. That was why she sent me to get the Rookery in person, rather than sending a bird; to get me away from the demon. That was why she went into the Black Tower alone. She knew she’d have a better chance than anyone to fight it off and avoid possession, so she went in there to face it herself.

  Only she hadn’t fought it off. They must have proven unexpectedly compatible, Whisper’s third option, and their spirits had fused. And now the grandmother who’d raised me was a demon, and the Witch Lord of Morgrain was a malevolent being straight from the Nine Hells.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

  Ashe snorted. “That’s all right. We never do. We just blunder along making things worse until we figure out a way to fix it all brilliantly at the last minute, then pretend it was our plan the whole time.”

  “Ashe,” Foxglove scolded. “Don’t give away our secrets.”

  “She’s one of us now.” Ashe shrugged.

  The thought brought a spark of warmth to the cold that had settled in my chest. “That’s right. And you’re experts at this sort of thing.”