Chapter Seven
“Well, here we are again.” Brit slides from her horse then props her hands on her hips, gawking at the cliff face.
Whispers circulate through the group of soldiers. The Crossing Caves must be well known. Not everyone lived in The Meadows, but given Perth’s mother’s tragic death, everyone has heard stories. Places like this usually wind up at the top of rumor mills.
But somehow the idea of walking through a cave so dangerous no longer bothers me. We’ve fought daemons. We seek a god. I’ve died and come back to life. Arland and I broke the curse over the Ground Dwellers—or most of them. Crossing this dark path will be another minor inconvenience on our quest for Light. I’m not sure why I allowed the thought of this place to scare me so much before.
“May I lead us through?” Perth asks, eyes focused on the ground.
I wonder what he’s thinking, if he remembers his mother plummeting to her death, never hearing her land. I hope he’s not trying to make up for that somehow. And if he is, I pray he knows what he’s doing when we get inside.
Arland passes Bowen’s reins to me, then stands next to Perth. They look up at the column of gray and black stone. The Leader’s statures are complete opposites; Arland is tall, muscular, and walks and speaks with an air of confidence, dominance. Perth is short, thin, and he’s replaced the cool detachment he once showed with a persistent look of confusion.
“We have a lot of people relying on us to bring them to safety,” Arland says, lowering his voice. “They are not foolish enough to believe no lives will be lost in the battles before us, but let them die in combat with Darkness, not as cowards in these caves.”
“No one will die here today.” Perth clasps his hands behind his back, an action mimicking Arland, an action which says Perth is trying; he wants to grow. “Will you allow me to lead them?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Arland locks his gaze with mine.
I nod, hoping to encourage him to say yes. Perth deserves a chance to make right so many wrongs. He deserves an opportunity to be the Leader his father wanted him to be, but in a better capacity.
“I agree.” Arland smiles, genuine and captivating, then returns his attention to Perth. “I will allow you to lead, but if this is a request to restore your pride, I beg you to reconsider.”
Brit shakes my shoulder. “What’s going on between you and Perth?”
“I … I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I didn’t see her walk up to me, and I certainly didn’t expect her to ask a crazy question like this.
“Ground Dweller magic, Kate. Keep Brit in line, or we will have a major problem.” Arland’s thoughts stream into mine, warming my mind with his presence.
Brit focuses her narrowed eyes on me like I’ve just been caught stealing her favorite shirt from her room.
“Get off me,” a woman screams behind us.
Spinning on my toe, I catch sight of Rhoswen smacking Vanora.
“Stop,” I shout.
Both women pause and turn toward me. Vanora pushes away Rhoswen’s hand, then marches forward, arms stiff at her sides.
I stand my ground. “Gather your horse, and get in line. We’re leaving. Now.”
Perth’s childhood girlfriend continues forward, nostrils flaring, cheek sporting a bright red handprint.
Wake up, magic. Calm these people.
A shower of white lights drift down from above our heads, settling over the soldiers and horses like a blanket of fresh snow. The forest is peaceful, quiet, not eerie but renewed.
Vanora stops her hostile progression, looks toward the sky, and smiles. She makes a one-eighty and returns to her horse.
“Your turn, Brit.” I point at my sister’s animal. “Now.”
She stomps away as she follows my order.
I pivot, aggravation shaking my core. These caves make people act like tantrum throwing toddlers.
Arland leans close to Perth’s ear, whispers something, then crosses his fist over his heart. Perth imitates the gesture.
What did I miss? It takes everything in me not to growl and throw a fit along with everyone else. Taking a deep breath, I climb Mirain, grab Bowen’s leather straps, then hold them out for Arland. He rushes over and mounts, face revealing no emotion.
“What did you say to him?”
“I reminded him of how important these lives are.” Arland gestures behind us. “And requested a promise to keep people safe.” He situates on the saddle, making the leather squeak under him.
Perth rides next to me. “Stay with me, Katriona.” He turns around and approaches our group of soldiers. “When we enter the caves, remember anything you see or hear will be in your head and not real. Do not speak, do not use magic, and whatever you do, do not give in.”
“Don’t use magic?” I whisper.
“The spells seek out magic. You will be in more danger than anyone else. I will remain in front of you, while Arland remains at the back with your sister.”
“If I’m in the most danger, why does my Coimeádaí have to stay away from me?” I look to Arland for an explanation, but he shrugs and points at Perth.
“You share deeper connections with your sister and Arland, ones which could create magic without your calling for it. Do you wish to keep your army safe?” The Ground Dweller holds his head high and squares his shoulders.
Where did this man come from? This is who I know Perth can be, but he’s never displayed such an incredible urge to lead or take charge while on any of our expeditions. I hope this side of him stays around forever.
Muffled disputes grow louder behind us. We need to stop talking and get through these caves; otherwise, we won’t have anyone left to keep safe.
“Okay, Perth. I’ll follow you.”
“Thank you.” He kicks his heels into his horse’s side, and they ride off toward the caves.
“Kate?” Arland asks, hesitation in his tone.
I glance at him, my mouth still hanging open from interacting with the new and improved Perth.
“Whatever you see in there, whatever intrusion the spells cast upon your thoughts, do not for one minute let it change who you are. You are strong, kind, and you are everything Encardia needs.”
“I promise not to jump, Arland.”
He purses his lips into a thin, white line, a look I’ve never seen him wear before. “Remember what you love.”
Perth stops at the base of the stone path and turns his horse around. “Are you coming?”
“See you on the other side.” I sigh and dig my heels into Mirain.
“Brit, stay here,” Arland says. “Everyone follow Katriona and Perth. Stay in line, and remember, no speaking, and no magic!”
We reach Perth, and I fall in line behind him, look back, then wait for the others to join. Once everyone arrives, Arland holds up his hand and motions for us to proceed.
“Thirty,” Perth mutters, wrapping the reins around his palm.
“What?”
“I am responsible for thirty lives … if my father could see me now.”
“Maybe one day he will.”
He laughs and starts his horse up the steep incline, and I follow.
A thick, black sky hangs low. Clopping hooves echo in the night, surely betraying our position to anyone or anything nearby. We’re in the open, exposed to bats, or daemons lurking in the forest. I’m still trying to figure out how this is the safest way into The Meadows.
My breath clouds in front of me, mixing with the spent air from the animals. I shudder. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt cold, but the closer we draw to the two-story opening in the side of the cliff, the chillier the air becomes.
Perth keeps his focus ahead of us. Part of me wants to look back, check on our line, count the heads, but I’m afraid I’ll see Arland or Brit and somehow make a connection to them. Perth told me how Ground Dweller magic makes weapons, but he never told me about Nefarious spells or how they creep into people’s thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe these spells
were cast so long ago, no one—not even his father—knows how to release the darkness.
We reach the opening, and I turn up my face, soaking in the sheer size of this rock wall. It stretches as far as my eyes can see without light. Thousands of tons worth of stone could collapse on us inside this cave, trapping us forever. Thousands of daemonic bats could be living inside, waiting for us to enter.
I grip Mirain’s saddle horn tightly between my hands. We’re not even in the caves, and I’m thinking about all the horrors our people may face.
Remember what you love, Kate. Think of Arland. Think of being strong.
Passing through the entry, I suck in a sharp breath, but an overwhelming burden presses on my chest and expels the air.
“Katrionaaaa.”
The hissing voice is not real.
“Katrionaaa. You will soon die. Dughbal will kill you.”
Ignoring the threats, I stare at Mirain’s white mane, focusing on what is real. What’s in front of me. What I feel.
Her hoof crunches a pebble, and I glance down. She walks on a three-foot wide path surrounded by blackness. Closing my eyes, I swallow hard.
I hate heights. What was I thinking coming in here? Can this stone even hold all our weight? What if the horses are too heavy … ?
“Arland will die.”
Black fog swirls around me, chilling my skin.
“Your sister will die.”
This isn’t real.
A loud, piercing scream breaks through my concentration. I look back, but everyone is gone, so I look forward.
Perth is gone, too.
My heart hammers against my chest. Stay calm. Breathe. They didn’t all jump … .
“You killed these people, Katrionaaaa. And now you will die, too.” The fog covers my skin, fills the air of each breath I take, fills me.
What if everyone really did jump? How will I live with myself?
No. This isn’t real. I would have seen Perth go over the edge. I would have heard more screams as people fell.
“Yesss. You feel it in your blood, Katrionaaa. Darkness controls you. The gods use you. Turn back. You have failed. Save what is left of your young existence.”
My body feels weightless. I reach for the saddle horn again but tumble forward—
Mirain is gone—no, Mirain is below me. I’m floating, suspended by sprites covered in black flames. My skin is on fire, bubbling and turning pink everywhere the beings touch. Tears well in my eyes. I want to scream, want to cry, want to turn around. This isn’t safe. There has to be a better way, another way at least. I don’t want to be burned. Not again. The shifter did enough to me.
“You burn daemonsss. Why should you not burn, as wellll? You will die if you go any further. Your blood already drainss from you. The others are gone. Turn back.”
A long, open wound stretches from my armpit to my wrist, spilling blood below me. I glance at my left arm; the same style cut covers it too.
“Help me, Kate.”
Arland? I spin in the air, skin shouting at me to find water, to soothe the burning ache. But no one is here. I’m all alone.
Bleeding.
Burning.
Floating to my death.
Water. Maybe that’s what lies at the bottom of the ravine. Maybe the liquid will refresh me, bring my skin relief. It can’t be that far down.
Tears streak my cheeks, evaporating before they reach my chin. I’m so hot, so tired. My eyelids sag.
“Yesss. Water is what you seek. You are thirsty. Your skin is on fire. Turning back is not an option. Moving forward is impossssible. Jump. The fall will be short but worth it.”
Rain pours from the sky but doesn’t touch me. How delightful it would feel on my skin. Silky, calming water … .
One tiny drop smacks my forehead, fresh and intoxicating.
My mouth is parched.
It can’t be that far down.
“The fall will be painlessss.”
The sprites release me, and I slam onto Mirain’s back. She whinnies and rears, throwing me to the narrow path below her feet. Rocks stick to my swollen burns. I clench my fists. My skin stings. I cannot stand it. I need water. I walk to the ledge, my fear of heights sending shooting sensations throughout my chest and legs, warning me to step back, but I peer over the edge.
I see the river. It’s about twenty feet below me. If I turn around, I can climb down to it.
“Jump, Katrionaaa. You will be safe. The magic will assissst you.”
White capped rapids rush over the rocks, the sound deafening. How could I not hear this before? The river is right there. I sit and dangle my legs over the edge. Water splashes up and soaks through my leather boots. The soothing chill only makes me yearn for more.
It’s not that far.
I glance at my arms again; both still bleed and are covered in welts. Pressing my hands to the stone path, I slide—
Something slams into me, knocking me on my side. “Open your eyes, Katriona.”
This isn’t real.
Arland growls. “Open them.”
My eyes are open. I don’t see Arland. Just the inviting river below.
It’s not that far.
Struggling against the invisible force around me, I pull myself toward the ledge and reach out my arm. A crisp, fresh breeze blows against my skin. I’m so close.
But the force pulls me back again. “Open. Your. Eyes.”
I shake my head, afraid to yell at this dark magic. The voice sounds so much like Arland’s, so much like the man I love. I would recognize him if his arms were around me. Wouldn’t I?
“Open your eyes, Katriona Maher. Perth is about to jump off the ledge, too. I cannot save you both if you do not snap out of this.” Warmth greets my lips.
Arland. He’s kissing me.
Awareness strikes through me. My eyes are closed. I force them open, then look around. People are everywhere, screaming, tugging each other away from the ledge. Kent smacks Muriel, then she opens her eyes. Brit jumps on Vanora’s back, knocking her to the ground. The horses stand in the middle, unfazed by everything going on around them. We should have tied ourselves to the animals.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, ashamed to meet his eyes.
“You will never plummet to your death while I am around.” He lifts my chin, a strained smile curving up one side of his face.
“Did anyone go … over?”
“No.”
“Get away from the edge, you idiot,” Rhoswen screams. I would recognize her voice anywhere. She spent every morning and evening with me at Willow Falls, dressing me for Dufaigh’s parties.
Arland releases his tight grip around my middle, then glances toward the ravine. “Promise to stay right behind me?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll stay next to you, but what about them?” I hook my thumb toward everyone behind us.
“It appears the others have the situation under control. However, Vanora may hold some hostility toward Flanna and your sister.” He laughs and starts for Perth.
Gripping Mirain’s lead rope as though it’s my lifeline, I hurry to keep up with Arland, then peek over my shoulder.
Flanna hooks her arms under Vanora’s, holding her still while my sister smacks her face over and over.
“Wake up!” Brit screams.
I have a feeling enemies are being made. Vanora isn’t the forgiving type.
“Mom. I hear you. I knew you were still alive,” Perth yells, drawing my attention forward. He flails his arms, trying to shake Rhoswen.
She may be smaller than me, but she and Perth are similar in builds. He pulls at her long, blonde hair, fighting to get away, to hurt her, but she doesn’t give in. And I doubt he even knows she’s there.
“Arland, she’s already injured. You have to stop him.”
“Give her a minute, Kate. She was at the back of the line near your sister and me, and for whatever reason when we entered this place, she bolted for the front as soon as Perth acted out. Maybe she did not w
ish to see one of her kind make a mistake when given an opportunity to lead, but I believe it speaks volumes about their kind that she is helping at all.” Arland doesn’t look away from the only two Ground Dwellers in our small group. I doubt he will allow Perth to hurt Rhoswen or himself, but Arland’s idea is interesting.
Is this an experiment?
“No,” Arland says, reading my thoughts. “I am not experimenting. Aside from building the bases and providing weapons, Ground Dwellers have never aided in this war. I wonder if they would have if the curse were not in place. Whatever the case, situations like these are where warriors are born.”
Rhoswen slaps Perth; the sound reverberates off the walls.
He tumbles back, then shakes his head. “Rhoswen?”
“Your mother is dead. You know this, Perth. Now, are you going to lead us through this place, or are you going to jump to your end, too?”
Eyes widening, Perth takes in the dangerous scene. All color washes from his cheeks, minus the bright-red handprint from where Rhoswen saved his life—she’s now slapped two people today.
“The spells do not affect you?” he asks, looking back to her, voice flat.
“After passing through here enough times, you become immune to the spells.” Rhoswen brushes past him, disappearing into the darkness.
Mirain snorts.
“You don’t think she’ll run into any daemons, do you?” I whisper.
Arland smiles the faintest of smiles. “Even if she does, she appears to have the wherewithal to handle herself.”
“I failed.” Perth kicks a pebble over the edge.
I listen, waiting to hear the stone hit the bottom, to land in the water, wait for some indication as to how far I was about to fall.
“I am sorry, Arland, Katriona.”
“Count the heads, Perth.”
He meets my eyes, confusion settling into his features. “What do you mean?”
“You are responsible for thirty lives. Count the people. We’re all still here. Failure is not measured by the mistakes you make, Perth, but how you respond to those mistakes. You haven’t failed yet.”
Arland grabs my free hand, then squeezes. “Your father used to say that.”
“Did he?” My heart warms at the thought of sharing words with the father I’ve never known. “Mom said that once, after I failed a test.”
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