The whispers on the wind pulled at his heart, at his betrayal, his pain. Those chilling voices from his nightmare pulled into the heart of the woods.
***
Sweat rolled down his neck, and he rolled his eyes as the prince didn’t stop talking. Marquis quipped at his back the entire time while they navigated the denser part of the woods.
The Shattered Isles had been painted vividly, each word stroking Marquis’s home into life before Adair’s eyes. Of a community that was wild and unkempt, strong and unyielding. One that was united, despite its conflict. Marquis told him about cave exploration and how he could swim for hours, the ocean bending to his demands. Of the merpeople that dwelled in the darker parts of the Black Sea, and the sea dragons, called caines, which took entire fleets down.
Exhaling, the prince caught him off guard as he lifted his eyebrow and asked, “What I don’t understand is how the Faes have achieved such loyalty. What did they do?”
Adair chewed his bottom lip as he hopped over a fallen tree trunk then looked to Marquis. “They were the dreamers in a time when culture, creativity, and equality were being butchered. The Academy was the foundation of that dream, for the desolates, for the people with weaker abilities. For everyone. The people of Kiero followed Roque because they can’t fear him, they can only admire him. How brave he was for standing up to his father, for breaking free of his reign, to start his own.”
“It sounds like you have a different opinion of him.”
He threw up his hands. “I was born at the Academy. Raised in the Academy. Who am I to doubt the intentions of the Faes? They are practically family.”
Shrugging, Marquis cooed, “Sometimes it is the ones closest to us that betray us first.”
A shiver ran down Adair’s spine, as he looked at the shadows collecting around them. The trees towered far above them, their branches looking like veins, a lifeline.
“Adair.”
The whisper tugged at his core. His whole body shook with the recognition, with the knowing that they were getting close. He stopped, slipping his bag free from his shoulders. Choosing not to answer, he grabbed a thin leather book, flipping the weathered pages open quickly.
The wind picked up unnaturally, and the Prince of the Shattered Isles stepped closer, “What is that?”
“My offering.”
He found the page he was looking for, the illustration of the trees bending, forming a doorway to where the mirror lay beyond, and the man bent before it. Before Marquis could react, Adair stood in one fluid motion, unsheathing the blade. Striking it across his forearm, the skin ripped, forming a deep gash. His blood welled and bubbled, looking a deep crimson in the fading daylight.
Taking a steadying breath, he softly said, “I am here.”
The world before them exploded into movement and a brilliant array of colors. He felt the ground shudder. The forest fell silent. Light fractured, spilling and washing them, as everything spun into chaos. Glancing over, Marquis stood in awe.
Blood trickled down Adair’s arm dripping thickly onto the ground below them, which was smooth and golden now. An archway rose, intricate carvings of the forest bowing together, and at the top, two gleaming red jewels stared down at them. A thick oak door was all that stood between them and the truth.
The forest was long gone, and with his shaking bloodied hand, Adair reached to grab the smooth doorknob. The handle twisted and then released, the hinges creaking loudly as the door slowly swung inward.
Adair whispered to Marquis, “Follow me, and please let me do the talking.”
For once, the prince just nodded, at a loss for words.
Their footsteps cracked like thunder as they passed under the archway, into a cavernous room. The floor glowed brilliantly, parts of it turning into liquid silver and forming four walls around them. It was quiet and empty, this place lying between reality and dreams; it was like walking into a jewel being melded and molded into shape.
Adair pulled his jacket closer around him, slinging his pack over his shoulder. He popped his collar out of habit, his hair standing on end. Marquis had frozen by the archway, in horror or fear, he couldn’t tell. His blood trailed behind him, flowing hot down his arm as he stared ahead, walking surely.
A throaty laugh bounced off the walls, distorted, as smoke started to spill from the middle of the room, crawling toward them like grappling hands. It stopped right before his boots, rising like a fog.
“Adair Stratton, you dare come see me again?”
The voice tolled with ancient magic, malice, agony, and despair. An iron tang filled his mouth as he rasped, “I have come with my offering. Will you answer my questions?”
That chuckled reverberated throughout the fog, as one by one, the golden hues started to fade, the inky blackness rippling throughout the room.
“Are you offering yourself or the prince?”
He sneered. “The prince has nothing to do with this.”
That throaty voice chuckled again, whispering, “Oh, I highly doubt that.”
The room was dipped into full-fledged night, like a flame being blown out. Adair’s breath hitched in his throat, and he twisted, trying to spot Marquis. He felt the slight shift of the floor, and before he could react, he was falling. Through the fog, through time and space.
The world roared around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His heart dropped into his stomach as he tried not to scream. The wind ripped at his jacket, his hair, and skin. The temperature dropped, ice crystals forming on his skin and exposed blood. He clamped his jaw so hard, he thought his teeth would shatter.
His body flipped violently, his limbs flaying. He dared to look, opening one eye and then the other. The sun hung low in the sky, bleeding into a sunset. At the same time, the full moon hung beside it, the remnants of night bleeding into the light. He fell through clouds, the ground below him, speeding up to him. Too fast. He could see the snowy tops of mountains below him, rushing up with their granite might.
His scream ripped through him, and his limbs flailed, trying to stop, trying to claw back up. The fog ripped the peaceful scene away, and Adair fell faster, briefly seeing the tunnel he was being swallowed by before slamming into the damp earth.
Everything went dark in a sweeping instant. It was like diving into the ocean, being pulled down by the waves, the sense of self stripped away. Hot blood filled his mouth as he bit through his tongue. Trying to find his bearings, shadows churned before him, those icy whispers cutting through the fog.
“Adair, you have come. You have come!”
Trying to slow his breathing, Adair watched as a pulsing light exploded below him. Its pale essence was like a lone star in the sky, entrancing him and pulling him in. His body slammed into something solid, cracking hard against it. The night clung to the room around him, besides that sole light.
With shaking limbs, Adair pushed himself up, standing slowly.
Adair was in another room, Marquis nowhere in sight. If the one they had entered was the heart of light, then this was the sealing promise of obscurity, the promise of danger heavy on the air. The coolness of the room sent shivers raking through him. Orbs of dew clung to the roots, hanging from the roof, and the smell of the forest after a rain filling his senses. It was both calming and unnerving.
Running his hand through his hair, he took in the creature he sought. Spindly arms hugged his legs toward his chest, his papery skin looking translucent. Adair could see each pronounced rib sticking out of his sides, each vertebra in his spine. His brown hair hung loosely, framing his sharp features.
But it was his silver eyes that made Adair freeze. Those eyes, holding every promise, every secret. Those mysteries that pulled him forward, whispering, “Gortach, I hope the years have treated you well.”
The starving man smiled, revealing rotting teeth as he rumbled, “You, Adair Stratton, haven’t changed much since your last visit.”
Lowering himself onto his knees, he shrugged. “I have and haven’t. But you would know that already.”
<
br /> Gortach’s grin spread wider. The ancient shapeshifter dwelled in the depths of Kiero. Adair had learned that sacrificing blood to the creature caused it to see into the future, answering one question brought forth to it.
With a slight tremor, Adair held out his forearm, the dried blood caking his skin. Those silver eyes flicked down to the wound, ravenous. Slithering fear uncoiled throughout Adair, but he could barely process it as Gortach lowered his cracked lips to Adair’s skin. The wound reopened, and the world tilted as his blood flowed.
Gortach rippled, the appearance of his decaying body fading, replaced by a haunted youth. Adair balked as he saw the familiar appearance. Gortach had a dark sense of humor and took on the form of whoever came to pay its price.
That ancient voice shook through him, his mind, his core. “Now what is it you seek? Your heart, Adair, is consumed by your desires.”
Swallowing hard, he whispered, “What is Roque Fae hiding in the Academy?”
The creature paused, tilting his head. When he replied, it was as sharp as a sword’s edge, “Are you sure that is the secret you wish to hear? You know the rules.”
“Yes, my blood will grant me one answer. I am certain. What are they hiding?”
Gortach crawled toward him, his nails scraping against the dirt. “The time for Kiero’s reign in prosperity is over. Darkness tinges the future, submerging it in death and destruction. Be prepared, Adair Stratton. We will all be unmade. Roque Fae has in his possession an ancient, binding magic. One that was never his to keep. The secrets of ultimate power in the form of the Book of Old.”
Something clicked within Adair.
Gortach was face-to-face with him, his breath putrid as he whispered, “Find this, and you will be free.”
Sweat started to collect at the base of Adair’s neck. “Free from the unmaking of our world? What do you mean? What is the Book of Old?”
He paused, and when Gortach spoke again, his voice was gravelly, “Are you requesting another answer?”
Adair froze, practically trying to hold his breath, then exhaled, “No.”
The image of youth drained from Gortach, showing his true form. Baring his teeth, he spat, “That’s not what it sounded like to me.” Lunging forward unnaturally fast, his now sharpened nails slashed at Adair.
Stumbling back, Adair cursed, running back to the wall of the room. Gortach stood to his full height, chuckling darkly. The crevices caught shadows across his features and body, making him look distorted.
Then, the only light source in the room went out.
Pushing his back flush to the cool, earthy wall, Adair’s heartbeat thundered within him. Images flashed through his mind, and panic flooded him. Giggles sounded in the darkness as the shadows moved. Their sickly movements, those pitiless eyes. The pinned back grins, their sharpened teeth.
And the world, ripped to its core, bleeding.
Adair didn’t know if he was hallucinating, but as the Gortach stalked him in the darkness, his image flicked back and forth.
Gortach.
Those pale faces.
Gortach.
Their sharpened grins.
Gortach.
Their empty sockets pinned him, as a dim green light pulsed again in the darkness. The room was empty, Gortach gone.
Four of them circled him, reaching for him. Long black stringy hair, skin as white as snow, their bones practically poking out from underneath their flesh. Their hands stroked his skin and his wound as they cooed to him, “Adair, don’t let our watcher scare you. Don’t allow us to scare you. You must go. Find the Book of Old. Help us.”
The creature to his right tugged his hair, exposing his throat as she whispered in his ear, “We will watch as the world burns. Together.”
Their giggles encircled him, the darkness washing over him once more. Hot tears spilled down Adair’s face, and as he blinked, Gortach roared back into his deadly reality. Mounds of dirt exploded around Adair, and he threw his body weight forward, rolling.
Gortach said, “I will have all of you, Adair. Your dark desires, your soul. It’s mine.”
Adair heard the scuffling as Gortach loped behind him. He was blindly running full tilt, his blood, his tears, his sweat, burning his skin. Stumbling, dirt filled his mouth, his muscles screaming.
Move, move, move!
He wasn’t about to die in the throes of dark magic. He rolled onto his back just as he saw the skeletal body fly forward, pinning him to the ground. Gortach used his forearm to press down hard on his esophagus, cutting off his oxygen. Adair used all his remaining energy, kicking hard, clawing at his back.
Gortach grinned down at him. “You are just a man. I am made of magic. You cannot win.”
The smell of rotting flesh filled Adair’s senses, and frantically, he spiraled in those silver eyes that churned with knowing, with victory.
Spots filled his visions, and he couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t stop...trying...
“You best get off my mate there.” Marquis’s voice sounded behind them just as the light flared, chasing away the darkness.
Gortach snapped his attention to the young prince, roaring.
Marquis’s lips pulled upward as he looked annoyingly calm. Emerald eyes flashing, he snapped his fingers together. The earth underneath them churned, droplets of water oozing from the dirt, floating up, spinning around Gortach. The droplets suspended and grew until a hissing ball of water consumed the shapeshifter. With widened eyes, he clawed and snapped, his anger lost in the water as the sphere ripped him away from Adair.
Choking, Adair rolled onto his side, gulping for air, blissfully taking it in.
“Adair, you have to get up. Come on.”
He complied, wheezing, as Marquis supported most of his weight. More lights flared as they ran, the underground room expanding much larger than Adair had thought. The world shuddered, and Marquis pulled him down, hard.
Gravity pulled their weight, and they slipped through a small crack. There was a compressing darkness, and then the wind howled fiercely as they freefell into a different world. Snowy mountains enraptured by a starry sky was all Adair saw when they plummeted toward the ground.
Their screams were lost in the wind, snow, and ice. Adair blinked, as they were sucked in faster, the scene changing with the heavy scent of iron. The sun beamed now, a rolling sea of green below them with flowing plains. The scene changed again, and they were falling through dense clouds, moisture clinging onto their skin.
Squeezing Marquis’s hand tighter, they continued to fall.
Adair snapped his eyes shut as the tang of magic rattled in his bones. He opened them, just in time to see the golden floor rushing up to meet him. Slamming into it, the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth and lacing pain shot through his body. Marquis lay still beside him, his deep emerald hair rumpled.
The floor shuddered just as Adair took in the oozing, black fog coming up to meet them.
No.
Through the pain, his blood and tears, Adair lunged forward, grabbing Marquis’s hand. Screaming in frustration, he threw his body weight back, dragging the prince with him. Darkness filled his senses, as he watched the poisonous fog rush at them, wanting to tear through them, to bring them back to Gortach’s lair. His blood pounded a vicious beat, and he snarled at the unconscious prince.
“Adaiiiir.”
Somehow they had defied logic, having fallen through time and space, ending up in the original room they had started in. Cursing, he moved faster, the golden floor turning an opaque black at the sound of Gortach’s voice.
The once silver walls started to crack, debris falling and shattering all around them. It felt like fire splintering through the marrow of his bones.
Yelling, he dipped into that well of ability, begging internally for some hidden strength. He could feel the magic of Gortach looming behind them, wanting to pull them back down into his depths. Slipping in his own blood, he didn’t stop. The archway was maybe ten more steps. Their freedom was just beyon
d that door.
Guttural growls escaped from him, and he lunged, black spots threatening to overtake him.
Don’t stop.
The floor trembled, and Adair heard the shrieking crack, like nails scraping against stone.
Don’t look back.
The floor tipped, gravity clawing at them, to pull them down. Adair screamed, throwing his weight forward, scrambling at the doorknob.
A deep throaty laughter echoed behind him, panic choking him. The floor gave way entirely just as Adair leapt through the threshold, dragging Marquis behind him. They plummeted back into the woods, and Adair slammed the archway door shut just as he saw the translucent claws break through the swirling smoke.
Sweat dripped off his nose, and he let go of Marquis. In one motion, he had his backpack in front of him, and he shakily ripped it open. The books and jerky spilled out, as well as his sheathed knife. The archway remained, the oak door shuddering from the force behind it.
Move.
Throwing the book open, his eyes flicked over the passage about closing the gateway to the ancient realm. His gaze flicked up to the two blood rubies. He didn’t delay.
Shooting quickly toward the passage, his body screamed at him to stop.
Jumping, he swiped the two jewels from their perch, just as the oak door was thrown open. Gortach stood there, his withered, rotting body shaking with rage as the gateway was shielded. He couldn’t pass through.
Adair bared his bloodied grin as the arch melted like fired metal, cutting off their world. They were finally safe.
Once the arch was nothing but dust on the wind, he quickly lurched to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach. Inhaling hard through the bitter taste that coated his mouth, Adair looked down to where the blood rubies had been clutched in his hand. In their place, blackened liquid ran through his fingers, dripping onto the forest floor beneath him. The same putrid smell that had come off Gortach filled his senses.
He watched as the substance ran down his forearm, mixing with his own blood, his breath coming in fast gulps. His skin turned cold and clammy, his stomach churning. He looked at Marquis, his still body starting to look uncharacteristically like Gortach’s. Marquis’s body churned into a nightmare until the world spun, and the forest floor rushed up to meet him, as he collapsed.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 10
