by S A Edwards
42
Prudens left me to myself for the remainder of the day, and for once, Chimera didn’t follow me. The solitude was disconcerting, and a pang of loneliness stabbed in my chest.
After picking at the food left over from lunch, I wandered the halls, desperate for something to take my mind off the recent events. Despite wanting to see Siren healed and well, Prudens insisted he be left to rest, and when I came across Della, she agreed.
I cried myself to sleep that night.
The next day, I managed to drag myself to breakfast, but when there remained no sign of Siren, my pain deepened. The image of the knife through his hand haunted me. I ran my finger over the condensation beading on my goblet, welcoming the cool bite of its chill. When a drop slid down the side, I abandoned my food and hurried from the hall to hide my tears.
The door to the library stood open, the scent of parchment no longer as prominent as last time. I frowned. The world seemed much less intense without my enhanced sight. Dust curled in beams of sunlight through arched windows high above, and the podium stood empty between two of the shelves.
“Interesting,” I muttered. “I can still see you. I wonder …” I marched back the way I’d come, toward my room. If I could see the podium, was it possible I could still read the writing in the book? Maybe that wasn’t gift-related, but if not, then what was it?
It took a while to find my room again. Every corridor and doorway appeared the same, and I took several wrong turns before finding a familiar hallway, which door was mine?
Reaching for a handle, I twisted it.
Locked.
“Bother.” I sighed, peering down the hallway. Doubtfully, I approached the next door and tried again.
It opened silently to reveal my untouched pack on the chair.
A hint of relief overcame me. I scooped it up, popped it on my shoulder and headed back outside, too restless to stay indoors.
Chimera slept beside the fountain in the courtyard with the Peacekeepers sitting a short way from him. Would he still protect me with the Peacekeepers near? They clearly weren’t a threat, but if danger did strike, would they draw his loyalty with their magic?
I shivered at the thought and pushed on.
Chimera came from the book. Until now there hadn’t been a chance to look through it, but perhaps more answers lay within, like why I could see the book and why Siren figured we’re companions. Although, I couldn’t see the link.
A stone arch opened to the amber field, as empty as when Siren first bounded into it. Speckled flowers swayed in a gentle breeze and crimson butterflies fluttered over them.
I smiled at the memory of the tiny newling learning to fly, back when Charlie still had time.
My smile faded. That time had gone, and Siren was nowhere to be seen. The image of Rickson trying to force the fluff down his throat invaded my mind, the dagger through his hand, his scream.
My hand tightened over the strap of my pack, but the memories kept coming: the warmth of his scales, his vanilla scent, the touch of his hands on my cheek, his lips on mine.
I shook off the thoughts, took a shaky breath, and slid my back down the wall.
The breeze laced with my hair when I opened the pack and tugged out the book. It weighed more than I remembered.
I sliced my finger along the strap, smeared blood on the lock, and flipped open the cover. The pages rustled.
Unrecognisable symbols covered the parchment. Then, they shifted, transforming into my home-tongue.
With slight satisfaction, I flicked through the pages, filled with details of things I couldn’t understand. Hellions, potions, plants, and gifts, each page as intriguing as the last, but never explaining why I could read them.
I fanned farther in through the pages, enjoying the increased breeze on my face, and froze at a phrase about three-quarters of the way into the book.
of the Daemon, trapped in the Gates of Omen.
I stared at the half-sentence at the top of the page. Why would the Daemon be mentioned in the book? My encounter with him back home hadn’t ended well. He’d released a Hellion, promising freedom if it destroyed me. Though why he hadn’t released himself instead was a mystery.
I read on.
His power is too potent to keep in one prison, and so seven have been joined to confine him. We call them The Gates of Omen. As with all things, consequences were forged: a doorway from each of the Nephilium Lands leads into his territory. Precautions have been put in place to warn beings of the danger. We can only hope they heed them.
A list of locations for entrances to his prison came next. That must be the one from home: The Gates in the Dark Forest, but which land was this?
“Clara.” Siren leaned against the arch, face pale.
I scrambled to stand, dropping the book on top of my pack. The grass tickled my bare legs, and a butterfly crossed between us. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He forced a strained smile, and a stab of weakness flowed through me.
“You’re lying.”
“I have no wounds, physically, but my gifts haven’t returned yet.”
“You look exhausted.” I could feel it.
He shrugged. “The effects of the Blade Hellion’s attack. My energy weakens as well as my gifts.”
I nodded. “When will they return?”
“Another day. Maybe more.”
“I see.” My gaze dropped to the ground. At least his power would come back. Mine wouldn’t.
He stepped closer. His warm fingers tilted my chin up, and his thumb traced my jawbone. He pressed his nose against mine, captivating me in his scent, although less prominent than it used to be. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. News of my failure to save Charlie must be common knowledge by now. Tears welled, and I pulled away.
He grabbed my arm, though his grasp remained weak. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I chose to use the whisperleaf. I gave my gifts away.”
“You couldn’t have got to the Gate. You know that. That’s why you did it, isn’t it? If you hadn’t, more Hellions would be on the loose.” He pulled me nearer, and his voice became softer. “The right choice is not always the easiest, but it defines a person, increases their potential.”
“Some potential.”
“You have more than you know.” He leaned in a little, eyes lingering on my lips.
“You haven’t eaten any more Deepwood, have you?” I asked. “I really don’t need to sleep right now.”
He laughed, and for a moment, it felt as though we’d gone back in time, back to when there was hope. Worry twisted within me, and his laugh diminished.
“What’s concerning you?” he asked.
I slumped against the wall. “I’m Mortal now. I can’t do anything about the Hellions. They’ll be spreading through the land, killing Mage and Mortals as they find them. The only ones who can lock them up again are the Keepers, but they’re trapped.” Because of me. Because I touched their magic. Because I couldn’t save Charlie before the Gates failed. I’d do anything to put it right. Even –
I gasped. “I know what to do.” I dropped to my knees, grabbed the book and flipped through it, searching for the page. “It’s crazy, but it just might work. Charlie’s beyond my reach, and I wish I could help him, but …” I took a shaky breath. “The land still needs me, the Mage, the Mortals. They need this.” I paused, staring at the words that could change everything.
Siren crouched down beside me, eyes wide. Could he sense my hope without his gifts? “What are you talking about?”
“I know how to release the Keepers. At least, I think I do.” That my plan would free the Keepers from their own prison was a long shot, but judging on what I knew, it could work. I pointed at the page. “He can help.”
Siren sucked in a sharp breath. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Look, I know it’s insane, but the Daemon is a collector. And he has power. A lot of it. If there’s anything
that can open their prison, he’ll have it.” The medallion of Orashae had been used, but maybe there was something else. There had to be.
“To get anything from the Daemon, you have to make a deal with him. Don’t you know what that entails?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. I’ve done it before.”
“You’ve what?” He closed his eyes and took a breath. When he focused on me again, his features were grave. “I would ask you how that last meeting went, but I am sure it cost a terrible price.”
“It wasn’t that bad. He set a Hellion on me. I forced it back into its prison. Done.”
“There’s always more to it than that,” he said. “A second encounter will be worse.”
“I can handle it.”
“He will ask for –”
“The thing I am most unwilling to give up. I know. Oh.” That was a problem. “Last time, I gave a counter-offer, something different to what he asked but something he couldn’t say no to.”
Siren blinked. “Really?” He smiled, in spite of himself. “Risky. But you’re here, so I assume it worked.”
“Only, I have nothing to give him this time. It must be something of great value, something he can’t refuse. Oh! What about one of your scales? You said they were powerful.”
“Absolutely not. The scale of an Ancient in the hands of the Daemon? It would be catastrophic.”
“But he’s locked up. What harm could he do?”
“A great deal of harm. Besides, going to Omen isn’t an option,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It’s guarded by another Hellion.”
“The Hellion probably won’t even be there anymore. It will have left when the Gate failed and –”
Siren shook his head. “These Hellions aren’t bound by the same Gates you’ve encountered. They can’t leave. They are the Herron.”
43
“The water creatures that change women into one of them?” I thought back to the Hellion I’d met with Amicus.
“Omen is on the other side of their territory,” Siren said.
“So, we’ll need a boat.”
“No. It’s beneath their territory.”
“But then, how’s anyone supposed to get through?”
“They’re not. That’s the point.”
I shook my head. “I’ll find a way.”
“And then what?” he asked. “Say you get through to the Gates, what will you give him? Have you thought about what he will ask for? A counter-offer isn’t going to be an option this time.”
“I have to take something. There’s nothing else he could want. I have no power, no gifts, no treasures.”
“There’s always something.”
I frowned.
“We’ll think of something else,” he said. “There’s always another option.”
“Right.” I snapped the book shut and slipped it back in my pack. “After all we’ve got all the time in the world. It’s not like everyone’s dying or anything.”
Siren bowed his head.
For a time, we watched the amber grass bending to the breeze. Siren leaned on the stone, slipped his arm around me and traced circles on my shoulder. Comfort tugged, his comfort, so I resisted the urge to pull away.
I tried to ignore the emotions running through me, but the longer the silence remained, the stronger they became.
Siren didn’t react to my feelings. Perhaps he didn’t sense them anymore. Perhaps he ignored them. After all, I could sense his.
“What if there’s nothing else?” I blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. “What if this is the only way to free the Keepers?”
“So, what’s your plan?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. “A scale is out of the question. Will you give him what he requests? You know the alternative if you refuse.”
My soul. Eternal servitude. I pushed away the fear that gnawed on my heart like a hungry Hellion.
“Then, there’s the question of getting through the water without getting caught,” he said. “And then, getting back. And assuming you manage all of that, you still need to reach the Keepers in the centre of the expanse, surrounded by Hellions and Kyne and Rickson with his fluff.” He flinched.
I braced in the memory. Kyne. My brother. Apparently. With all his determination to go through the Void, now he’d trapped the Keepers, any chance of that had failed. His plan made no sense. What was I missing? “Okay, so I’ve got some kinks to work out.”
“Kinks? That’s what you’re calling them?”
I glared at him and thought I saw a hint of a smile. “At least I’m doing something about it,” I said.
Prudens stepped through the arch with Della beside him. A long, silver robe laced with glistening silver leaves trailed across the ground behind her. A golden crown adorned Prudens’ head.
“We’re all doing the best we can,” Della said, and I wondered how much of our conversation she heard. “It’s a near impossible situation and we have to consider all the options.”
“Do we have time for that?” I stood, but Siren stayed where he sat. “What if time kills the Keepers?” I asked. “They have no food, no water. What if the Hellions keep spreading over the land? What about the people they’re killing right now?”
“The Keepers are safe in their prison.” Prudens said. “We have Ancients spread out all over the land attempting to control the Hellions and protect the settlements.”
“How are the Mortals responding to that?”
“They have no choice in the matter. They know they haven’t the power to protect themselves from this. As for your idea –”
“You know about that?” I glanced at Siren. Had his gifts returned?
“Without Siren’s gifts, he cannot prevent me from learning as he does,” Prudens explained.
My lips tightened. It almost seemed like an invasion of privacy. “But you said he showed what happened before the Blade Hellion wounded him.”
Prudens nodded. “It gave us time to reach you before the end. Your idea,” he said, “it is intriguing. If the Daemon does indeed have something that can release the Keepers, it may well be a path worth taking.”
Siren shot him a disapproving look.
“However,” – Della raised her hand at Siren – “it is not without risk. Never before, in this land, has a being reached the Gates without being transformed by the Herron.” She eyed my pack. “May we see the book? Perhaps there is more information about the Gate.”
I pulled it out and searched once more for the page.
“Della,” Siren began, but she cut him off with a smile.
“We must take into account every consideration,” she said.
I reached the page. A detailed sketch of the Gates rested on the parchment, identical to the one back home. I’d already read that page so turned it.
The Ancient symbols transformed, revealing more details on the locations of the Gates. I paused at the second paragraph.
In the land of Grevon, the entrance is located one eona east, beneath the water of Herron territory, the guardians of the portal. To reach it, one must wield the gift of a Healer
“A Healer,” I said. “You have a Healer here, right?”
Prudens nodded. “Though we cannot spare her. We need her here. By my understanding,” – he cast a questioning glance at Siren – “there was a Healer in the rebellion camp. A loyal man to the light.”
“Hanrel?” I asked. “Yes, he’s a good man. I think he would help us.” Although, Hanrel was aging in years. Would he have the strength to create a path one eona beneath the water? It would take constant concentration. One slip and the water would swallow us whole. I’d ask him, but I needed to find him first.
“I’m a Healer,” Siren said.
“Oh. Yes, I know,” I said.
Prudens stepped forward. “It will take time before your gifts return, and then you’ll need to recover. The power of holding back the Herron would be too much for you, for any Ancient, and if they catch you, the consequences wou
ld be severe.”
Siren’s expression darkened. “Has a Healer never tried before to reach the Gates?” He directed his question at Prudens. “I can’t quite remember.”
“Not that I am aware.”
“What about the prison?” Siren asked. “It’s a temporary one. It’ll fail eventually, and then they’ll be free.”
Della shook her head. “Temporary, yes, but not meant to last a few days. It will hold for up to six months before falling.”
Siren’s frustration cut through me. “Of course,” he said. “I’d forgotten.”
“I do not know how this will play out,” Prudens said. “But of this I do know, of all the options put forth to correct this circumstance, this is the most compelling. If the Keepers remain trapped much longer, they will surely die. The results would be catastrophic.”
“How?” I asked.
“The world will fall.” He touched my shoulder. “If you can make a deal with the Daemon, this could work.”
*
Siren barely spoke for the rest of the day. Every minute of silence served as a reminder of his opposition to the plan and pushed the Keepers closer to death. Prudens concern over their demise troubled me. It had been decided we would leave at first light to give us a chance to more fully prepare.
“It’s too dangerous,” he said for the fourth time that day. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a comforting, orange glow through the bedchamber. It reflected on the dressing gown he wore, making the white swirls appear golden.
I kicked off my shoes and slumped back against my pillow. “If it wasn’t me, if it was someone else, would you be so against this?”
He perched on the edge of the bed. “I still wouldn’t like it.”
“But you’d agree it’s the best plan.”
“Putting anyone at risk is never a good plan.”
“That can’t always be helped. Although, it can with you. Without your gifts –”
“I’ve already said I’m not staying behind.”
“But if you get hurt –”
“I’ve given my answer.”
He glowered at me. His gifts still showed no sign of returning, and he grew more uncomfortable all the time.
“Okay. Please,” I said, “don’t be upset. Can’t we just relax tonight? It’s been such a horrible week. I don’t want to fight with you, too. I got enough of that with Kyne and the Hellions.” Siren’s presence soothed me, easing some of the pain of losing Charlie. Even so, it took all of my efforts not to cry. Thinking of the Gates, of having something to do, helped keep the grief at bay. I dreaded the time it was over, when I would be forced to think of him, to accept that I would never see him again.
