by K T Munson
He laughed at her attempts to free herself. “You have tempered your abilities and have lost. Instead of letting all that chaos free, you chained it like you chained your demonic half. You haven’t learned anything.”
It was becoming difficult to see, and she felt her lungs fight for just one breath. She was suffocating. She could feel the fight go out of her as her brain could no longer process. She felt her body spasm as she started to float away. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, something rammed into Arawn. She slumped to the ground and lay there, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
Elisabeth could see someone fighting, but only as shadows. She tried to focus and sit up, but the strangulation had done its work; she was like a newborn lamb, weak and disoriented. When she could orient herself, she managed to drag herself away from the movement and noise. Her head pounded and her mouth was dry as she heaved herself across the floor at an agonizingly slow pace.
When she reached the back wall, she rolled over and leaned heavily against it, trying to see who had come to her rescue. Her vision began to focus. Two shadows fought. The light hit one, and there was momentarily a flash of gold.
Malthael.
Elisabeth fought her exhaustion and used the wall as a support as she tried to stand. She was breathing hard, and the exertion was making her lightheaded, but she stayed conscious. It looked like Malthael was losing to Arawn’s brute strength. Arawn’s fist cracked across Malthael’s head, and Elisabeth cried out. She took a step and fell instantly, her legs lacking the strength to support her.
“Malthael,” she whispered as she fought to push herself up. “Papa.” She crawled toward them, determined to help somehow.
The room shuddered as Elisabeth looked up. Malthael had lost his sword, plus Arawn was a whole head taller. Whatever chance Malthael had had at beating Arawn was lost. Malthael barreled into Arawn as the Lord of the Hunt brought his joined hands down onto the older demon’s back. Malthael fell to the floor and barely managed to roll out of the way of a powerful kick. Elisabeth wheezed helplessly, watching in abject horror.
Malthael pushed up against Arawn’s leg almost unbalancing Arawn. The hunter threw his arm out and clipped Malthael’s jaw, sending him sprawling.
Elisabeth reached out, trying to force her powers to work, but nothing happened. She was useless, empty.
“Papa,” she croaked, tears of frustration running down her cheeks.
Malthael scrambled to his feet but Arawn immediately punched him square in the face. The crack sounded like a tree breaking clean in half. The old demon didn’t recover quickly, and Arawn’s elbow caught him square on the shoulder, just narrowly missing his head. Malthael fell to his knees.
Arawn took a step back, gloating as he caught his breath. “You’ve gotten old and weak.”
Malthael’s head came up and despite his battered state, there was defiance in his stance. Elisabeth felt both pride and agony. “Even if you take my life, you will not win.”
Arawn paused at that and glanced back at Elisabeth. His smile was twisted, and Elisabeth felt fear clench her heart. She tried again, in vain, to muster anything in Malthael’s defense. Malthael’s gaze went to her.
“Papa!” Elisabeth called, sensing Arawn’s intent.
“Elsa,” Malthael said the instant before Arawn pulled a sword from the Netherworld and sliced through Malthael’s neck.
His head fell from his body, and Elisabeth screamed, the sound embodying all of her agony, shock, and regret. The emotions choked her, strangling her worse than Arawn had. She fell forward, her hands on the ground as her torment turned to rage. Baring her teeth, she tried to feed on anything living to get the power necessary to kill Arawn and avenge her father.
“Now it is time I dealt with you once and for all,” Arawn said, taking a step toward her. “Give me the shard.”
Suddenly, energy filled her; coursing up her arms and into her body in a white-hot rush. Elisabeth hummed with power. Arawn stopped dead in his tracks. She stood as an unseen breeze tugged at her clothes, a physical manifestation of the growing force within her. Arawn looked around, his mouth slightly ajar, but Elisabeth’s gaze never wavered from him. She wanted to see his face when she destroyed him.
Arawn’s eyes finally turned back to her. For the first time she saw fear, and a part of her was giddy over the idea. She wanted him to be petrified, as frozen with terror as she had been only moments ago, when she finally killed him. She wanted his blood on the walls. As her powers doubled, the wind became a gale.
Arawn tried to run, and Elisabeth swept an arm up. The door closest to him swung closed, blocking his exit. He stopped, searching for another way out, but the rest of the doors slammed shut at a wave of her arm. She could feel her heartbeat, feel the power coursing through her veins with every thump. Despite her body screaming at her not to use it all, she didn’t care. Her papa was dead, and she’d never fix what had been broken.
“You’ll die as well,” Arawn called out.
Elisabeth stared at Malthael’s body. She was a vessel of vengeance. When she turned back to Arawn, she tilted her head and smiled bitterly. “You should have thought of that before you killed my father.”
At those words the power in the room hit a crescendo. She threw her arms wide as she met the precipice. As the gathered power exploded from her and rocketed toward Arawn, her last thought was that she’d had her revenge.
Chapter 48: The Divine Court
The fortress shuddered and the hallways shimmered as the endless row of mirrored doors faded—the lockdown was over. Ki ran toward the explosion. Whatever hold Arawn had on Morhaven seemed to have ended. Had Elisabeth succeeded? When he found the great double doors, he forced them open with his full weight. He went to take a step into the room but stopped in shock. He threw up an arm. Everything was white. The endless lack of color was blinding.
For a moment he thought the room was covered in snow, but he quickly realized that snow wouldn’t stick to the ceiling. Ki hesitated at the threshold, not sure what could have caused such damage. It was as though everything had been bleached of its color.
He scrutinized the wreckage. The corner of the room had been obliterated. Rubble covered the ground. Ki scanned the room, and when he saw her, he abandoned all caution. He ran into the room. Leaves crunched under his feet. He looked down and saw that they were also white. He slowed as he reached Elisabeth. Her hair was pale, but she was the only spot of color in the room except for the debris of stone and wood.
“What have you done?” Ki asked as he knelt by her side.
He smoothed her now silvery blond hair out of her face. There were remnants of tear streaks on her cheeks, but her face was serene. If it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought she was dead. He searched the room for Malthael. It took him a moment to spot his body among all the white. Lifting Elisabeth up into his arms, he walked over to Malthael’s body. His head was a few feet away. Ki closed his eyes in mourning. Whatever Elisabeth had done, he now knew why.
The rubble started to move. Startled, Ki took a step back. He rushed toward the door with Elisabeth in his arms. There was only one person who could be left in the room, and Ki was in no state to face him and protect Elisabeth. When Ki reached the door, he looked over his shoulder and saw Arawn’s upper body come out of the wreckage. His right arm was still completely black, but his left arm was white. Half his body seemed to have been bleached white like the room. Not willing to stick around for when Arawn extracted the rest of himself from the rubble, Ki ran with Elisabeth safely in his arms.
As Ki rushed down the hallway, a silvery shape caught his attention. Ki shifted out of reach as Malthael floated by. The demon didn’t seem to notice him. Ki ran after him, although Malthael clearly wasn’t restricted by walls or by having to fully round a corner.
He heard their voices before he saw them. Ethandirill and Nanette were helping King Nauberon, who had an arm out against a wall. Malthael’s ghostly form head
ed straight for Ethandirill. Ki put a hand out and made an incoherent sound that drew their attention, but it was too late. Malthael’s form entered Ethandirill, who was knocked on his back.
“Ethandirill!” Nanette shrieked.
King Nauberon paused only a moment before walking through the illusionary wall. Nanette knelt by Ethandirill and patted his cheek. “Wake up,” she called. She glanced at Ki. “What happened?”
“It was Malthael,” Ki said, still not understanding what had happened.
“Where is he?” Nanette asked, looking around behind Ki. “And what happened to Elisabeth?”
Ki swallowed. “He…he’s gone.” He glanced down at Elisabeth. “I don’t know about Elisabeth. She’s done something.”
“Gone?” Nanette whispered. “Ethan?” Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Ethandirill put a hand out. “I’m all right. I just need a moment.”
Ki adjusted his hold on Elisabeth. “Arawn isn’t dead.” Ki glanced over his shoulder. “Elisabeth did a number on him, but we need to move.”
Ethandirill nodded as he slowly gained his footing. “Let’s go.” He and Nanette went through the wall.
Ki frowned at the wall and then glanced down at Elisabeth. She was a limp doll in his arms, but she was still breathing. Shrugging, he walked into the wall and then was falling. Before he could cry out, he landed in a pile of pillows. Feathers exploded from them on impact. With a huff he leaned back, protectively pulling Elisabeth against him.
He was kneeling amongst colorful cushions on a floating platform of a room. King Nauberon was opening drawers and looking through chests for something, muttering about Babayaga and her spells. Ethandirill was helping Nanette, who seemed unsteady on her feet, into a chair. He could hear her crying softly, mourning Malthael’s loss. Once she was properly settled, Ethandirill turned back to help Ki, but Ki forced himself to stand, unwilling to part from her. He carried her to a fancy couch with golden wood and a deep maroon fabric.
Ki knelt by Elisabeth’s side and shook her gently. He called to her, but she did not stir. Ethandirill held Nanette’s hand.
“What happened to her? Why is her hair so pale?” Nanette asked Ki as she slipped her arms around Ethandirill’s waist. Her head rested on his stomach as tears continued to roll down her cheeks.
“I don’t know,” Ki admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Everything in that room was completely white, even the ceiling.”
King Nauberon stopped rifling around. “What do you mean it was white?” he asked as he came over to stand next to them.
The King leaned toward Elisabeth. Ki reached for his daggers, but Ethandirill put a hand on his arm, stopping him. Unhappy but pacified, Ki watched as King Nauberon studied Elisabeth’s silvery blond hair. The King put a hand over her chest and muttered something that Ki couldn’t make out.
“Elsariel has done something irreversible,” King Nauberon whispered. “She has pulled energy from Morhaven, from its very roots, to fuel her power. Morhaven could have killed her, could have ruined her, but it accepted her, no doubt offering its power to destroy Arawn. It knows its rightful King is not at the helm of the Divine Court.”
“What will happen to her?” Ki demanded.
“Elsariel is in what many call the Upside-down, a loose but crude translation of an ancient place. She must face the spirit of Morhaven. It may still take her life.” King Nauberon looked at Ethandirill, his eyes were hard. “She is a member of the Divine Court now.”
Without another word, King Nauberon returned to his search. Everyone else stared silently at Elisabeth as she slept soundly. She was something else, had become something completely new. Ki didn’t know what it meant but was sure they would somehow overcome it.
“Why did he say it like that?” Nanette whispered, her voice sounding confused as she focused on Ethandirill. “Is it bad that she’s a member of the Divine Court?”
Ethandirill sighed. “Because I am no longer a member of the Divine Court.”
“What are you now?” Ki asked.
“I think when Malthael went into me I became what he was,” Ethandirill sounded dazed as he spoke.
“A demon?” Nanette asked, clearly concerned.
“No, my love,” Ethandirill said, sounding amazed, “The Gate Guardian of Ashlad.”
Chapter 49: Tym Resh
Troy stirred in the early hours of the morning. The burden and pressure on his body was gone. He hadn’t realized how terrible it had been until it was no longer crushing him. Sitting up slowly, he looked around and realized he was in a ship’s quarters. A rush of relief passed over him for the second time. The first had been when Clara had taken the mantle of Keeper from him.
Despite feeling stronger, he had to steady himself when he stood. He was lightheaded, and the slight movement of the boat made his legs wobble. Still, he was utterly alive and giddy over it. Troy didn’t normally do giddy, but when one nearly died, things could change. Slumping back onto the bed, Troy steadied himself for a second try. Before he could make it to the door, though, it opened. Clara stood there with a giant smile on her face.
His gaze slipped to the wine-colored smudge on her cheek. He had thought it dirt on her face before, or a shadow, but now he realized it was a birthmark. It spread from her jawline to her cheekbone and out to her ear. It reminded him of the curve of a fish’s tail in a way. His eyes moved back to the rest of her face and her excited smile.
“You’re awake!” Clara skipped into the room. “I felt you stir and rushed right back. We are on one of the steam ships. I’ve never been on a steam ship before. I quite like them and their paddles. It is fun just watching them turn.”
He couldn’t help but like her. She had prevented his imminent death and there was something about the way she spoke—her happiness and general excitement—that was wonderful. It took him a moment, but he realized it was because she was unbridled in what she was feeling. Her happiness was her own. And after so much death and disappointment in his life, Clara was a ray of sunshine.
Maris’s head poked in behind Clara. He had apparently been keeping watch. He smiled at Clara, and Troy knew he was feeling the same way. Troy was alive, they had a new Keeper, and just like that the world was a little better.
“Are we close?” Troy asked Maris.
“Very,” Maris replied with a relieved sigh. “I expect to be back in Hystera before evening. My husband will be happy if I can make it for dinner.”
“Husband?” Clara squeaked in surprise.
Maris’s eyes took on a certain glint, something Troy rarely saw in his normally stoic protector. “Oh yes,” he clarified, his voice playful, “Husband.”
“Do not tease her, Maris,” Troy chastised. “In Tym Resh relationships like yours are not openly accepted. They aren’t hated, just not as outwardly allowed.”
Clara’s mouth dropped open. “That is normal in Hystera?”
Troy nodded. “Mmhmm. There is much you have to learn.”
Clara blushed. She glanced at Maris, who turned back to his post outside Troy’s door as he tried to hide his smile. Leaning toward Troy she whispered, “How do they have children?”
“There are many women who do not want children and accidently get pregnant. Maris may petition to take such a child under his protection so long as they are of the same clan, he is married, and they can provide for the child,” Troy explained, realizing just how different Tym Resh and Hystera were. He decided against mentioning that Clara would likely find a spirit animal of her own once she arrived in Hystera. That was another discussion for another time. Troy didn’t even have his own yet, but it wouldn’t be long before he would have to make the journey.
The entire idea seemed to make her uncomfortable, but he was pleased to see she didn’t immediately reject it. As a Keeper, tolerance and love were uniformly applied to most situations. They could dislike things, but hate was something most Keepers were not capable of—with the exception of feeling this way about the World Eater, but only b
ecause he was uniformly hated by all.
“I cannot imagine having a father and a father,” Clara whispered more to herself than Troy.
“They love just like mothers and fathers do,” Troy explained, putting a comforting hand on her back. “There will be time for you to learn, and I shall be there for you.”
Clara’s nose wrinkled. “You sound like an old man. I cannot marry your words to your appearance. Are you truly as young as you look? Or do your people age more slowly.”
From outside the door Maris piped up, “There are no other people like Troy.”
Troy raised one eyebrow in Maris’s direction but did not address the comment. “I am nearly thirteen, but I have the education of a man well into his twenties. I may have your years, but I do have twice your knowledge.”
Before she could response a voice bellowed, “Barrie Cove.”
“I do not doubt that!” Clara said excitedly as she leapt to her feet.
Clara hurried out of the room and back to the deck. Troy had no doubt that everything was new and exciting for her. Maris came into the room to gather their things. It was then that Troy realized he hadn’t seen the demon.
“Where is Katallan?” Troy asked. He’d been in great distress and the memory was fuzzy about the demon but he was certain Katallan had been real.
“He is up on deck. He was watching Clara.” Maris shook his head as he gathered the last bag and slipped through the door.
“Any news?” Troy asked without elaborating as he followed Maris down the hallway of cabin doors.
“Katallan heard that they made it within Morhaven and to the Divine Court, but Arawn locked down the fortress. There has been no word.” Maris took the stairs that led to the main deck.
The steamship was twice the size of the one they had taken to get to Loveday, and Troy looked around in awe at the splendor. The first boat had been nice, but this one was spectacular. Every color of the rainbow shone from the stained-glass windows within the sitting area. The wood was polished and honey colored. There were colorful embellishments on the chair’s armrests. The ceiling was high and had a twinkling chandler.
