by Liz Delton
“Get down,” came a voice from beside her. It was Sagano, already dismounted.
She obeyed quickly, but she was shaking, and it was hard to get her feet out of the stirrups. Her fingers hurt from clutching the reins, and she had to work hard to uncurl them from the leather. She had spent the hours trotting along beside Sagano and his mages, thinking over what she would say to the Storm King. Would he listen?
Sagano ushered her inside, while Tai and the others took the horses. Kira had figured Sagano was in charge, but now she was certain.
The narrow passage through the base of the wall was dark and hardly wide enough for two people to walk side by side. If this was the only way into the castle, Kira couldn’t imagine anyone breaching it easily.
Kira could only see a rectangle of light ahead of her, signifying the end of the tunnel. Sagano crept behind her, silent. They were completely alone.
The pit of her stomach dropped. Thistle. She had forgotten about Thistle! She was intensely aware of her heartbeat racing through her veins. Where would the mages take Meluca? What would they do to Thistle if they discovered him?
She forced herself to calm down. She took a deep breath of the tunnel air, soaked with the smell of never-quite-dry stone. Thistle was a spirit—or something like it, anyway. Gekkō’s messenger had gotten by just fine without Kira’s help before now.
But now she was truly alone.
The rectangle of light at the end grew in size as they approached. She slowed, as if she feared the Storm King to be waiting for her at the very end. Sagano bumped into her.
“Keep going,” he grunted but didn’t push her.
She forced movement into her limbs and walked jerkily forward into the light. She blinked a few times, dispelling the darkness from the tunnel.
It wasn’t a room. It was an extremely long corridor, seemingly endless. Stone walls, alcoves of some kind, ran along both sides. The stone walls were highly polished, with embellishments carved into each corner. There were two narrow slits in each wall, reminding Kira of battlements on a castle, except they had vines carved around them. Anyone who tried to infiltrate the temple through the tunnel could be facing any number of hidden archers or mages, who would have an infinite number of hiding places.
As they walked past the alcoves, Kira saw that each recess held a statue, but in keeping with Sagano’s pace, she didn’t have time to study them.
When Kira saw how much further they needed to walk, she took another deep breath.
She wished she had talked to Thistle more about her agreement with the spirit of the mountain. Would Gekkō know when it was complete? Would he come find her and tell her what she needed to know?
Would he be able to get her out of this mess she had so willingly walked into?
As she walked further and further into the Storm King’s castle, she dwelled on what a ridiculous endeavor she had begun. The defenses were impenetrable. She doubted even the Grey Knights could breach this castle. How naïve she was to think she could waltz in here, deliver her message, and safely escape! Her only hope was in Thistle and Gekkō.
She was glad she had chosen not to tell anyone at Gekkō-ji of her ridiculous plan—although Rabenda knew and hadn’t tried to stop her. Perhaps Rabenda still hated her after all. Kira’s feet began to drag.
They passed yet another alcove with another statue tucked inside. Kira noticed several pretty stones placed at its feet. This statue had the face and torso of a woman but from the waist down a dozen coils of her snake-like tail. Her face was beautiful but twisted into a mischievous grin.
The next alcove held the semblance of a horse, with ghostly eyes, and its tail and hind legs appeared to meld into the stone wall behind it. The next, a haggard old man, not unlike…“Is that Gekkō?”
She halted. Sagano came up beside her and peered into the alcove.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Read the plaque.” He ushered her forward, eyes narrowed and clearly thinking she was trying to trick him somehow.
As she entered the alcove, she peeked through the slit in the wall and found she could see through dozens of the alcoves, but it was hard to tell how many. Painted on a tidy wooden sign above the statue were the words, Gekkō, mountain spirit near the Kosumoso and Starwind lands.
“What is this place?” she wondered aloud.
“The Hall of Spirits,” Sagano replied matter-of-factly. “Now hurry up.”
Eventually they reached the end. Kira counted several dozen more alcoves, filled with the likenesses of Camellia’s spirits.
The Hall ended in a wide open room, with galleries looking down on it from the floors above. The floors above went on forever. It was then Kira realized they must be in the base of the Spire. It was like being at the bottom of an endless well. She looked down before the feeling of nausea could grip her.
If those balconies were lined with mages, anyone entering the castle would be trapped like fish in a barrel if they somehow managed to make it through the Hall of Spirits. She nearly laughed. Master Eizan would be proud. I guess I’ve paid more attention in history and strategy than I thought.
Sagano took hold of her upper arm, perhaps growing tired of telling her to keep going, and led her around the large fountain that took up most of the open room. A simple sphere of deep green stone sat in the middle of the water pool, carved from a rock the size of a car. The gentle trickle of water down its sides made Kira jumpy for some reason.
On the other side of the fountain, Sagano was met by an old mage who advanced upon them purposefully.
“What is your business here?” the mage demanded. His white eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
Sagano inclined his head. “I am Tokai Sagano, leader of the Third Shadow Guard. I need to request a meeting with Master Raiden.”
“What makes you think you can request a meeting with the Storm King?”
“Because I must speak with him.” The words flew out of Kira’s mouth before Sagano could twist the question to his own purpose. He shot her a dirty look.
“You?” the mage blurted, incredulous. He glared at the crescent moon on her sash buckle in distaste. It was obvious she had come from Gekkō-ji.
“I’m a visitor from the Starless Realm,” she said. “I have come to deliver an urgent message from the spirits.”
The mage stared at Kira as if she were speaking another language but didn’t offer a reply. For an entire minute, the only sound was that of the tinkling fountain.
“Pardon me,” the old mage finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if his robe were uncomfortable. “Jason!” he called to a young man in the shadows that Kira had not noticed. Jason and the mage had a whispered conversation that even Sagano seemed annoyed not to be a part of.
Without any explanation, the man called Jason walked over to Kira, and suddenly she couldn’t see.
She sighed deeply. “Not this again.”
And then a swath of Shadow slid over her mouth.
Perfect, she complained to herself. Someone grabbed her arm, Jason probably. Blind and mute, she walked where she was led. She could tell it wasn’t back down the Hall of Spirits, because instead of walking down a long corridor, they took turn after turn. She stumbled a few times on a set of stairs. Eventually she heard a door open. She was guided through the door, and it snapped closed behind her.
She still couldn’t see or speak. She froze against the back of the door. Where had he led her? Was there anyone else in the room? Not the Storm King…surely?
Her hands pressed against the hard wood of the door, she strained her ears for anything that would give her a clue about the room she had been put in. Nothing.
She reached behind her for the door handle. Locked, of course, but she had to try.
She shook her head, and tears threatened. Yet her eyes were crammed shut by the binds. She wanted to scream, yet she couldn’t even open her mouth. Her fists bunched, her nails digging sharply into her palms. A horrible growl crawled its way out of her throat but couldn’t escape her mou
th.
What was she even doing here? She had been so stupid to think the Storm King would listen to her—that anyone would listen to her. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Ichiro and Nari? And they were supposed to be on her side.
She slumped to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest.
No one was on her side. Not really. She had been apart from everyone at Gekkō-ji from the beginning. A stranger. A visitor from another realm. Not even Gekkō was truly on her side. Forced into helping him deliver his cryptic message, Kira knew the mountain spirit didn’t truly care for her. He just needed her to deliver the message.
Why her? He hadn’t answered when she had asked. Because she was from the Starless Realm? Because she wasn’t?
She buried her head on her knees. She wanted to go home.
Home. North Noxbury? No.
What she really wanted was to be with her mother. That was where her home was. Had been. No matter how many times they had moved, all the different cities and towns, she had always been home with her mother. But she would never have that home again.
She was sure the dark-creature—the crazed spirit—that had attacked her in the Starless Realm was responsible. Gekkō had said the spirits were attracted to strong magic. Kira guessed that being the only two people with Light magic in that realm, the beast must have been drawn to them.
Kira must tell them. She didn’t know why Gekkō wouldn’t or couldn’t tell the temple leaders himself. Perhaps he didn’t want to leave his mountain, or, if his magic couldn’t reach this far, maybe he couldn’t leave.
But she couldn’t let all those beings she had passed by in the Hall of Spirits be turned into dark, crazed beasts intent on chaos. She shuddered, picturing Gekkō himself with eyes like dark pits. The very real memory of the dragon as it lay siege to Gekkō-ji had often visited her nightmares.
The full moon was tonight. Hours away. If Gekkō was right, and the Storm King wasn’t responsible for the dark-creatures, then somewhere in Camellia, another creature would appear. Another spirit would be warped and driven to senseless violence. Where and who it might attack, she had no idea. It could be Gekkō-ji again where Jun and Nesma and Mistress Tori were or here in Heliodor. She had to tell the Storm King.
But first she had to get out of this room.
She stood, groping the walls beside her and feeling her way around the room. Nothing but bare stone.
For what felt like an hour, she crept around the room, feeling, searching for anything. But it was completely empty. Eventually she gave up, slumping against the wall by the door.
No one came to get her. No one brought food. Hours passed—they must have. She couldn’t tell what time it was anymore, with not even a hint of light reaching her eyes. For all she knew, it was as dark as night. She started searching the room again.
Tonight, the moon would be full. Tonight, another spirit would transform into a chaotic beast.
She slammed her fist into the wall. She had to get out of this room!
“That’s pleasant,” a whimsical voice reflected.
Kira froze on her tiptoes, in the middle of trying to reach up and feel if there was anything above her head, like a high window. Thistle. She flung her head back in relief, dropping back to her heels.
Still unable to speak, she cocked her head to the side, listening for Thistle’s position.
He chirped from somewhere high above, and then she heard the scrabble of tiny claws on stone. The impact of him hitting her on the chest, though he weighed as much as a tennis ball, made her jump. A yelp rose from inside her throat.
“What’s the matter with you?” He crawled to sit on her shoulder.
She pointed at her mouth and then her eyes, shaking her head.
“Ahh,” Thistle remarked. “That is a handy trick of theirs. Unfortunately, I can’t help you.”
She smacked her fist against her palm in outrage.
“Really, I’m sorry. I can’t borrow magic from Gekkō at this distance, and my own small magic isn’t enough to overpower Shadow binds. But it might be enough to get you out of this room.”
Kira cocked her head to the side.
“Why don’t you sit for a moment?” Thistle offered. She felt him scrabbling around on her shoulder, and then he was gone, leaping away.
She found the wall again and slumped against it.
“Your horse is all right, by the way,” Thistle said from somewhere in front of her. “They put her in the stables. She was munching hay when I left.”
Kira heard tiny claws scrabbling on stone.
“That was a few hours ago, though,” he chattered. “It was easy to get out of the stables—lots of handy rafters and hidey-holes. But the way from the stables to the castle is all open courtyards and lawns. I was trying to conserve what little magic I had, so it took a while. And then I had to find what room you were in and—aha!—got it!” Thistle cried.
Kira heard the bolt slide out of the lock and the squeak of a hinge.
“Well? Let’s go!”
She shook her head, frozen against the wall. What was she supposed to do, walk about the Spire blind and mute? She had no idea where she was going—and how was she supposed to get these binds undone?
Thistle seemed to grasp her situation. “I’ll lead you,” he assured her in his breathy voice. “We’ll find somebody who can unbind you, and you can, I don’t know, hit them with your staff until they’ll do it?”
Kira shook her head in disbelief. Reluctantly, she dragged herself to her feet. She had gotten herself into this mess. She would have to find a way out.
With the ease of weeks of hard practice, she summoned a Light staff. Her outstretched palms suddenly held the reassuring weight, and she twirled it once before bringing it to rest by her side.
“That’s the spirit,” Thistle chirped. He landed on her shoulder, and his soft fur brushed against her neck. “I’ll go ahead and make sure it’s clear. We can’t let anyone see you. I think most of them would attack a Light warrior on sight.”
And with that, the small weight on her shoulder was gone. She stood frozen in the doorway, her staff held crosswise before her. She felt a pleasant jolt at the words Light warrior.
“Left,” Thistle’s voice came from that direction a moment later. Kira stepped into the hallway. Her mind immediately conjured up the image of a mage coming up from behind her as soon as she turned. Her nerves buzzed with the adrenaline rushing through her.
“Hurry up!”
She tried to walk faster, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to run into something. She hated these Shadow binds. What a terrible thing to do to a person, she thought bitterly. If I could do Shadow magic, I’d never do this to anyone!
“You’re coming to the corner. All right—stop. Let me go ahead and check the next hall.”
Kira spent the next half an hour feeling as if she walked blind on a tightrope. Thistle had yet to locate a Shadow mage she could easily ambush, and she had no idea where he was leading her. Twice he flew back and had to urge her to retreat to the last corner or stairwell, because mages were coming. She didn’t know if she could handle one, even if she had her vision.
Now she heard the tinkling of a fountain. She stopped dead. Thistle had led her to the main entrance!
“Come on,” he urged from somewhere close by.
She shook her head. She knew this place. Hundreds of galleries looked down upon it, and Jason and that mage lurked nearby. She gripped the stone wall and sank into a half-crouch, as if it would help hide her.
“This is the only way to get to the other side of the castle.” Thistle returned, bumping into her shoulder and gripping the fabric of her jacket with his tiny claws. “Spirits,” he swore. “Someone’s coming, you have to—”
But it was too late.
In an instant, she was flying through the air, ripped from the wall, and slamming into another.
She kept hold of her staff. Obviously, she would need it.
Her attacker d
isagreed. The wind that had thrown her into the wall pooled around her hands, trying to rip the staff from her grip. It was too strong! Her fingers peeled off one by one, and it was gone. She heard it clatter to the floor somewhere on the other side of the fountain.
A deep, amused chuckle sounded from across the foyer, filling the open space.
Kira’s hand flung to her chest, but Thistle was still there, clinging desperately to the fabric. She hadn’t slumped to the floor after slamming into the wall. She was still pressed against it.
It was like that gut-wrenching ride she had once been on at a carnival her mother had brought her to. The one where the floor disappeared, but you remained pressed against the wall because the ride spun so forcefully. Except she wasn’t spinning. She was pinned there with Shadow magic.
The laughter petered out. “You must be the girl who claims to be from the Starless Realm,” a handsome voice called to her. It was deep, and it carried an edge. “I thought you were locked up.”
Kira waited, unable to answer.
“Ah, yes,” the man drawled.
She could see.
The sun was down, but even the sight of Light magic could not calm her.
Across the fountain stood a terribly tall man. His hair was thick, running in waves of black and silver, cut just above his shoulders. Armor plated his shoulders only, as if it were a fashion choice. As if he were a man who didn’t need to bother with such provisions. He wore the same type of robes she had seen the other Shadow mages wear, black, and completely covered in silver embroidered designs. A gratuitous ocean scene dominated the bottom half, with monstrous waves, no doubt fueled by the torrential rain coming from the heavy clouds that decorated the top of the garment.
“Full of himself, isn’t he?” Thistle whispered, so quiet that Kira almost didn’t hear him. “The Storm King.”
Chapter Twenty-Six