by S A Edwards
Confusion cut through my anger. “Home? What do you mean?”
“Like you, many of us didn’t originate from this world. We came through the Void.”
“You came from my world?”
“I came from the central world. The seventh world.”
“Why?” I asked. “Could your Keepers see through the Void?”
“There was an incident, and we fell through. All we want to do is go back, but the Keepers of this world won’t open the Gate. They won’t let us go free.” Black flickered in his eyes. He took a breath.
My jaw tensed. Something about his story seemed off. Seeing what I had of Kyne’s character so far, the Keepers probably had a good reason for refusing him passage home. They wouldn’t help Charlie, either, but even with that, they were more concerned about the danger involved. “Why won’t they open it?” I asked.
“Too much work. Too much risk. So they say.” He paced, hands tucked behind his back, frustration etched into his features. “We were willing to fight for it, but then you came along. The Gates started to fail, and another option appeared.” He fixed me with a piercing stare. “We can open the Void without the Keepers. And we can open the Underworld Gate, too. We can both have what we want. If we work together.”
“That’s how you plan to get into the Void.” My heart pounded with the new realisation, and I fought the urge to sit down. “You want the Gates to fail.”
“Exactly. Don’t you see? I can’t let you die. If you do, the balance will be restored, the Gates will hold, and we’ll be stuck here. And Charlie down there. We have to keep going. We’ll reach the next Gate by noon tomorrow, and the one after that by –”
“Wait a minute. What do the other Gates have to do with it? We’re only after those two: The Void and the Underworld.”
“Well, that’s the catch, isn’t it? The Void and the Underworld are the most powerful Gates in existence. For them to fail, every other Gate must fail first.”
Shivers slid across my neck. “You want to free every Hellion just to get your Gate open?”
He smiled.
“You’re mad. Have you any idea of the damage that would do?”
“Fight me all you want. You’re going nowhere.”
Blue flames shot from my hands, engulfing the shelter in a tornado of heat and light.
Kyne staggered back, covering his eyes with his hands.
A deep growl emanated from my throat. “I will not be forced.” I marched to the back of the burning shelter. My fire might hurt him, so he would stay back, but it wouldn’t hurt me. At least that was something I could still rely on, even with all the changes and new dangers in this world. Once I was in the cover of the forest, I’d let him go. As long as he kept away from the flames, he’d be fine. And then I’d return to the village and kill the Hellion.
Pain slashed through my back. I screamed and dropped to my knees.
When I turned, Kyne stood over me, a Mortal Blade in his hand. My blood gleamed on the tip.
My fire died.
13
Within moments, two Mage entered and dragged me from the charred shelter to a new one. Pain radiated through me with every movement. When they released me, I lay on the floor, gasping for breath.
“Move, move.” Hanrel appeared, panting at the doorway. “Kyne, I felt your …” His gaze flickered to me. “Your pain?” He rushed forward, raising a hand as he did.
Water from a jug on a table flew to him in a long wave and swirled between us. He focused in sombre silence, cleansed the water and directed it to my wound.
I exhaled in relief when the pain faded.
“What happened?” Hanrel snapped. He twisted to Kyne and the blade still clasped in his hand. “Why did you do this to her?”
I grabbed Hanrel’s wrist. “He wants the Gates to fail. He wants the Hellions free, so the Void will open, and he can go home.”
He cast Kyne an alarmed look. “Is this true?”
“You should get back to the group.” Black flickered through his eyes.
I pulled on Hanrel. “We can’t let him do this. The Gates are failing because of me. I can’t go near them.”
“Hanrel.” Kyne’s grip tightened on the blade. “Go. Now.”
The Healer’s gaze flickered between us, and then he left in silence.
I glared at my captor. “You can’t keep me here. My gifts will return –”
“I will stab you as many times as necessary to control you. From this moment on, you are powerless. You are mine.”
*
Hours passed in bitter silence. Time and time again, I fought to lift the remaining water from the jug, but it had as much effect as a Mortal’s attempts.
The blade still lay on the floor. It surprised me that Kyne left it. I could use it on him but faced with his gift against my lack of abilities, the likelihood of success was slim.
Two Mage stood outside the entrance of my shelter, and although I remained unsure who they were, I doubted they would help me. Even if they didn’t agree with him, they most certainly feared him. Why else had they never stood up to him? Their silhouettes before the light of a torch were still and unwavering. Even when I’d knocked a bowl of bread from the table, they hadn’t moved.
I tried to cut a hole in the back of the shelter with the blade, but the fabric resisted the edge. The only opening was a crack at the very top, but it was too high for a Mage to reach without access to the gifts.
The door parted, and Rickson entered. He flashed me a grin.
“What do you want, Rickson?”
His smile faded. “I just wanted to see you were okay.”
“What do you think?”
“Look, I’m sorry about the Deepwood. Kyne thought it was the best way to protect you.”
“Do you always agree with what Kyne says?”
“Most times.” He wriggled his fingers and pink fluff coiled over his palm. Then, he tossed it to me.
I caught it against my chest.
“You look like you need a treat,” he said.
“I need to be let go.” I popped the fluff in my mouth. The sweet, soft ball melted on my tongue.
“I can’t help you there,” Rickson said. “Kyne’s methods may not always be ideal, but he means well.”
I blinked. He did have a point, I supposed. Only, no, he didn’t. “That doesn’t justify his actions. Killing innocents, capturing Mage.”
“Well, it’s complicated. He just wants to get us home.”
So, he was one of them. One of those on Kyne’s side. “He’s doing it wrong.”
He spun some more fluff and slipped it in my hand. “Just give him a chance,” he said. “You might find he warms on you.”
“I doubt it.”
He flashed a small smile and left the shelter.
I slid the fluff in my mouth and savoured the taste, wishing he’d left more. A pointless gift, perhaps, but one I desired.
Time passed in silence, and I mulled over his words. How could he believe I would ever agree with Kyne? The more time I spent with him, the more he convinced me he was utterly insane.
Another silhouette strolled toward my prison guards.
One of them raised a hand. “Sorry. You can’t go in. Kyne’s orders.”
“Oh, come on. I just want to see she’s okay.” Amicus’ voice rang out through the quiet night.
“No can do. If Kyne found out …”
“He won’t. She’s been through a lot, and now she’s lost her freedom. Wouldn’t you want company in her position?”
Their shadows shifted. “Fine. Just make it quick.”
The fabric over the entrance parted, and Amicus slipped through. He pressed a finger to his lips, and the candlelight reflected on the fabric around his wrist. “We don’t have long,” he whispered. “Here.” He handed me his pack. “Put it on. We’ll only have moments.”
I slipped on the pack. “Moments for what?”
He ran his hands over my ears, and the tingle of his magic fizzled on
my skin.
A screech pierced the night air, and cries of alarm and pain screamed through the noise.
“Now,” he said. “Run.”
He ran back to the entrance where the guards were doubled over, hands clasped on their heads.
A crackle of lightning sparked from Amicus’ fingers and crashed against their bodies.
They collapsed.
I stared at them. He’d never attacked a Mage directly before. At least, not that I’d seen.
All around, Mage lay on the ground and hunched over their knees, crying out against some pain only they seemed to feel.
A shadow soared overhead, and I gasped at the sight of a huge, winged creature circling over the camp.
A blast of black burst toward it, but it dodged with graceful speed and careened toward the shelters.
“Clara, move!” Amicus shoved me toward the forest.
“I can’t.”
“What?”
“I have to give Kyne a chance.”
Amicus’ brow furrowed.
I shivered, and confusion washed over me. “I don’t … I don’t know why I said that.”
Another screech broke through the clearing and the winged creature soared back into view.
Mage writhed on the ground.
“Go.” Amicus pushed me, and this time, I didn’t resist. I touched my ears. “What did you do to me?”
“I protected you. Della’s voice can be … overwhelming at times.” He flashed a smile and plunged between the trees.
“Celeste!” Kyne sprinted through the weeds, face pale and distorted with shadow.
A root snagged my foot, and I fell, heart pounding in my throat. I couldn’t fight him, not without my gifts. I couldn’t even see properly.
Amicus shifted between us and stood his ground. “You will not take her.”
“You betrayed us,” Kyne growled. “Now, you die.” His eyes turned black. The ground trembled.
His gift tore from his hands like thick oil, pulsing, cutting through the cool atmosphere toward Amicus.
Amicus’ body exploded in a huge form. Startling blue wings extended, glittering beneath the moons’ light. A tail jabbed from his rear, sharp, and lined with dagger-like scales. His face transformed into snout and razor teeth and glowing, sapphire eyes. Heat radiated from his thick scales, and a symbol glowed in his neck: two thin crescents with a sharp, curved line through them.
Kyne’s attack hit him.
It ricocheted off Amicus’ scales. Lightning struck through Kyne’s gift and slammed into his stomach.
Kyne soared backward into a tree and collapsed on a mass of roots.
Gaping at his unmoving form, I struggled to stand on shaking legs.
Amicus shrunk, his wings folded in, and he returned to his human form.
“You’re an Ancient,” I whispered. My dry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I fought to swallow.
He tugged the fabric from his wrist and reached out. The same symbol that gleamed on the Ancient’s neck was marked on his flesh. “We take care to cover these up. If anyone discovered who we are in our human form, we are vulnerable to their attempts to steal our scales.”
“So, that’s true? A scale intensifies a Mage’s gift?”
“It’s true, but don’t be fooled into thinking one can be simply plucked from an Ancient’s body. It doesn’t work like that.” He re-covered the mark, the warning unmistakable in his words. “Come. He will wake before long.”
I followed him with my stomach churning, afraid to defy him, and balled my trembling hands.
After a few hours, red tinged the sky, signalling the onset of dawn.
Amicus stepped out from beneath the trees and onto a narrow path beside a fast-running river.
The tug of water welled within me, so I raised my hand, willing it to obey. A thick ribbon wound through the air and twisted in a familiar ball before me. I smiled.
“There’s water in your pack,” Amicus said.
I shrugged, cleansed the ball, and drank it quickly. “I prefer to prepare my own,” I said. “And after Kyne drugged me …” I didn’t want to believe Hanrel was aware of his intentions to sedate me, but I couldn’t be sure.
“You lost trust.” Amicus nodded. “Understandable. I assume discovering my true nature is why you’ve barely spoken a word for the past couple of hours?”
My lips tightened. I wasn’t sure what to think. An Ancient, the very beings whose home Kyne was against approaching, the beings with magical scales and bodies that even Kyne’s dark gift couldn’t penetrate, saved me from his clutches and led me through this foreign world.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Ask your questions. I know you have them.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the Might.”
Nervous excitement welled in my chest. “But Kyne
said –”
“Anyone who tries to get there without an Ancient would be killed.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.
“What about the other Ancients? Are they going to be okay with my being there?”
“They’re expecting you.”
I gaped. These were powerful beings. Why would they be expecting me? “Why were you in Kyne’s camp? If you can take refuge from the Mortals –”
“You think we fear the Mortals?” He leapt onto a wedged log in the river and hopped the short distance to the opposite bank.
“I think Kyne does.” Water pooled beneath me, lifted me from the grass, and deposited me on the other side.
He pushed on through the trees. “When he arrived with his followers through the Void, we were made aware of the evil that accompanied them.”
“The evil?”
“I was sent to infiltrate their camp and ensure the balance remained,” he said. “He planned to war against the Keepers, but we wouldn’t have let him get that far. And then, you arrived.” He paused at a stump and peered across the forest to where the Might stood on a far-off hill, majestic, mysterious, and somehow more beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on it. The light in the highest tower still shone brilliantly, despite the rapidly gaining day, and the walls glittered with gold.
“Do you know why the Gates fail? Why the balance is off?” I asked. “How can I cause this?”
He shook his head. “That’s what we intend to find out.”
14
The day passed in a long blur of spanning clearings, fields, forest, and streams. We stopped once to eat, and then Amicus spurred us on again, stating his anxiousness to reach the Might before another Gate failed. He seemed to think the power within the Might would help protect the Gates. For a while, at least. So, we gave the villages and Gates a wide berth.
I kept checking behind me, sure Kyne would be following, his eyes black and furious.
My legs were so achy with trekking up and down hills that every step felt like a hammer on metal. Some more of Rickson’s pink fluff would be ideal, a nice reprieve from the exhaustion of the day. I wriggled my fingers, wishing I could call the fluff to my own hand. I shook my head. Odd, how much I longed for it. Surely, that wasn’t normal.
“What happened to the creature that attacked the camp?” I asked, hoping to take my mind off the fluff.
Amicus glanced back. “Della? She’s an Ancient, not a creature.”
“I meant no disrespect.”
“She returned to the Might.”
“With her wings, right?”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”
“Well, I was just thinking about all this walking. Couldn’t you just fly us over there? It would save time.”
He snorted. “I’m not a cart.”
My cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I just –”
“Carrying a person is considered an embarrassment. A disgrace.”
I swallowed back my chagrin. “Walking it is, then.”
We reached a break in the trees. The Might gleamed in the distance, towering above the forest on its own hill. I eyed the steep slope
and bit my lip. Would we have to climb that?
Amicus pointed to the castle. The moons beamed down, casting a silvery light over the darkening surroundings. “We’ll stop there tonight.” He hooked his pack on a fallen log leaning against a crooked trunk.
I slumped on the dirt, grateful for the break, and fished out the flask from my pack. In moments, I’d emptied the contents into the ground. Then, I drew water from the leaves, the bark, the surrounding grass, and let it curl above me. The water Amicus provided was surely fine, but I felt better knowing I’d prepared it myself. After drawing out the contaminates, I directed it into the opening until the flask filled.
I eyed Amicus’ bag. Should I refill his flask, too? Maybe he would appreciate the fresh water. Especially after the stunt Kyne pulled with the Deepwood. What was to say his water was clean to drink?
My vision blurred, and an image of the Might filled my mind. Gold covered every inch of the castle, and wide streets wound between them. Then, the image shifted, running up along the centre tower to where the white light beamed through narrow windows at the very top. Pure, warm, blinding.
The clearing shimmered back into view.
A vision. So, my Dark gift did still work, although the importance of the image eluded me.
Dry branches dropped with a clatter from Amicus’ arms. “Feel free to help,” he said.
I snapped my fingers, and flames sprung up over the pile.
He frowned at the dancing fire. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll get the next load. You sit down.” I gazed at the tower on the Might, the white light beaming from the tip. “What’s in the tower?” I asked.
He sat opposite me and dug into his pack. “Never you mind.”
“There’s something about it,” I said. “That light –”
“Is none of your concern.”
A shadow shifted some way behind him, and Charlie stepped into view. He looked at Amicus and rolled his eyes, dimples flashing.
I giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ll go and get more firewood.” I left the warmth of the flames and hurried to where Charlie stood by the trees. I stopped a few steps from him.
