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Queen of Storms

Page 4

by C. N. Crawford


  I fell fast.

  Chapter 6

  Luckily, I landed on my feet. I cursed, the sound through the dark like a gunshot. The other voice stopped, and somehow the silence was worse than the chatter.

  I turned to survey my surroundings. I still couldn’t see the Bone Harvester, but I could now see a tunnel that opened into the pit, just wide enough to fit a person. That was where the phantom wind, and the voice, and the smell of old blood was coming from. As much as I was not into those things, I had a feeling I had to face whatever was in there before the pit would let me out again.

  I had taken a tentative step toward it when I heard a man’s voice.

  “Hey, girl,” he said. “You lost?”

  A chill moved through me. Someone was down here … someone normal. That didn’t make any sense.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I called out. After all, I knew exactly where I was. “Though if you know the way to the dungeons, I wouldn’t mind a little input.”

  “Need a hand? I’ve got two.”

  “Still good, cheers.”

  A faint spark of amber lit the tunnel, so far away I could hardly see it. Then another, like pieces of flint sparking against each other. The spark bloomed into a distant flame, then a red ember.

  Behind the glow, a man’s face came into view: gaunt cheeks, stubble, eyes sparkling. About thirty feet away, he leaned against the tunnel wall. He flicked the lighter off, and when the next blast of wind came, it brought with it not only the smell of old blood, but something distinctly herbal.

  “Are you smoking a spliff?” I called out, my voice echoing.

  “I see a señorita, a tasty mamacita; she asks me if I’m smokin’, I tell her, baby, nah … you smokin’.” The joint flared again with a long inhale.

  I stepped closer until I could see the man a little more clearly. Against his milky white skin, his red tracksuit stood out sharply. A gold bracelet around one of his wrists glinted in the light. A crown of snow-white hair topped his head.

  And he was rapping.

  Badly.

  “I’m livin’ in the pit, don’t you know it, got shit to say about it,” he chanted. “This is my new single, innit? Oh no, I’m gonna slap ya. Gonna slap ya face, slag. With my mace, slag.”

  Was this the Bone Harvester? Taru above, I’d have preferred a centaur or something. Monsters I could fight with magic. But an old man rapping in a tunnel?

  Yeah, I was fresh out of ideas.

  “We have to hide!” From behind, a ghostly male voice brushed past my ear. I spun around, but I saw nothing with me in the pit.

  I was losing my mind. Of course I was.

  “Hide where?” A female voice this time.

  Insanely, I thought I recognized the voices. The hair rose on my nape.

  “Who’s talking?” I called out. “Are you really here?”

  “I don’t know where, but he’s coming!” The first voice again. Each time, it sounded like the speaker was standing right next to me, but I couldn’t see anyone else.

  Then, from the shadows, a woman’s body shimmered into view. She glowed, semi-transparent like a ghost.

  I recognized that porcelain skin. Long, flowing chestnut locks twined with lush flowers and framed her elfin face. A spring-green dress draped over her body. On her wrists, she wore bangles that sparkled with light like stars. A crown of diamonds glimmered on her head.

  My breath caught in my throat, eyes stinging. Here she was again, the woman with eyes the color of bluebells and cheeks like pink rose petals. I had last seen her when I was five. She had been leaning over me and smiling. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest.

  “Mum?” I could barely manage the word, but she didn’t seem to hear me.

  Her ghostly gaze was on the tunnel. She stretched her hands out, her fingers splayed. Lightning erupted from her fingertips, and the pit lit up around me. Now, when I looked up at the top of the pit, I could see the edge. It wasn’t that far.

  When I looked down again, the old man had suddenly moved closer. Now, he was doing the robot, jerking around while rapping. Smoke curled from his mouth. “I’m gonna shoot ya, with my gun. It won’t be fun, gonna shoot ya in ya head.”

  My mother’s ghost screamed, a piercing noise that had me clamping my hands on my ears. Her transparent body lifted into the air. Then, my own body joined hers above the ground. The breath whooshed out of my lungs as an invisible force flung me against the rocky wall.

  My ribs felt like they were cracking, and I fell hard to the floor. My vision had started to swim, my ears were ringing, and I could taste blood in my mouth. My chest felt like it had just been hit with a sledgehammer.

  So, this was why they called him the Bone Harvester.

  My stomach tightened as I heard the ghost voices again.

  “We have to hide!” That same phantom male voice brushing past, like he’d been caught in a loop.

  “Hide, where?” my mum said.

  I gripped my chest. The rapper had shifted again. Now, he was standing right above me, glaring at me. I summoned a blast of pain magic, the stormy power filling my body, and I unleashed it from my fingertips. It slammed into the rapper, knocking him back.

  I whirled, hurried to the other side of the pit, and made a running leap, grabbing for whatever handholds I could. Adrenaline coursed through my veins now, all but numbing the pain. I started to climb, hand over hand, leg over leg.

  The lightning flashed beneath me, and my mother screamed. An unseen force hurtled me against the wall once more, a hard slam against the rock face. I fell to the floor, trying to catch my breath. As the rapper took a step closer to me, I whispered a hasty spell for healing. Magic tingled over my body, and I felt my ribs knit together. My magic wasn’t working as it should—not as powerful as normal. But it was doing something.

  My throat went dry when I realized one of the rapper’s arms had transformed into a serrated saw, its jagged teeth covered in gore.

  I let my body charge with magic, then chanted another spell—a reflection charm, so he’d feel my injuries. Blue-green magic crackled down my arm, and I threw it at him. He slammed back into the wall, saw clanging.

  But my mother’s ghost was already screaming again, and I knew what that meant. More slamming into the wall, more fractured bones.

  A pit opened in the hollow of my stomach, and dark thoughts began roiling in my mind. When my uncle found my mum’s body, he said that’s how she’d died. Thrown into a wall over and over until her shattered bones pierced her heart. He said Taru had punished her for heresy.

  I wasn’t about to let myself meet the same fate. I’d been a good little servant of Taru, hadn’t I?

  The healing spell whispered through my bones, and my vision started to clear. Along with it, my thinking clarified.

  The old man was resilient, and I needed to hit him hard.

  The Bone Harvester started doing the robot again, swinging his saw arm. “Other rappers are just slags, walking body bags….”

  I needed my attack spells to be working at full strength, but they weren’t working here. Which meant I needed a new tactic.

  My lip curled. I charged my body with storm magic again, and Taru’s power simmered up my spine. The faint scent of lightning singed the air. I needed to time this just right.

  Taru, help me.

  My mother’s ghostly scream ripped through the air again, and that was my cue. Just as I felt myself lifting to slam into the wall, I flung the crackling arcs of blue-green magic at the Bone Harvester. The reflection spell struck him as I slammed into the rock.

  This time, I didn’t feel the impact, but the Bone Harvester sure as shit did.

  His pale eyes snapped wide open, and he crumpled to the earthen floor. Blood dripped from his lips.

  I held onto my ribs, staring at him. My bones were still a bit bruised, because I hadn’t managed to heal them completely yet. I ran my fingers over them, whispering the healing spell. The gray magic sparked and sputtered, but it was enough t
o soothe my injuries a bit more. I tasted the metallic tinge of blood on my lips, and I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth.

  The Bone Harvester wasn’t moving, and his infernal rapping had finally stopped. And even better, my mum’s ghost was gone. Her death loop had stopped playing. Still, my legs were shaking. I’d never wanted to think about what she had felt when she died—and the knights had forced me to experience it. They were proper sadists, weren’t they?

  I found tiny handholds in the rock and began pulling my way up. This time, the nooks and cracks stayed ingrained in the stone, and I was able to pull my tired body all the way up. At the top of the pit, I dragged myself out and flopped on my back to catch my breath.

  Then, I was looking into the coldly beautiful face of the Nathair. Silver light washed over the stunning planes of his face, and faint interest sparked in his arrogant eyes. “You survived. Good.”

  I caught my breath. “Did you see that? Did you see anything?” I couldn’t quite explain why, but I felt utterly panicked that he might have seen my mother’s ghost. It just felt personal.

  He shook his head, amusement sparking in his pale eyes. “No, but I am fascinated to know what it is you’re so desperate to keep a secret about.” He cocked his head, a smile whispering over his lips. “Is it something to do with how you arrived here, naked and barefoot? Is it true that you are a pros—?”

  “No,” I said sharply.

  “Well, I’ll find out in good time.”

  I blew out a breath. “Taru save me.”

  A flash of irritation crossed his beautiful features, but it was gone again, replaced by that self-assured smile. “Oh, Taru won’t save you, little outlaw. Taru saves no one.”

  I raised an eyebrow. How could he say that about the god he served? It was blasphemy.

  “Now, your real trials begin tomorrow. Best get some rest.”

  I let out a long breath. I really wanted to punch him in the throat and demand to get to the dungeons, but I suspected that tactic would not end well for me.

  The Nathair turned his attention toward the door, where the reverent sister stood. “See our little outlaw to her … accommodations.”

  Without so much as another glance at my crumpled body, the Nathair sauntered out of the room, taking his malign presence with him.

  The veiled sister approached, knelt before me, and offered me a small bowl. “Drink,” she said, her voice soft and delicate.

  I took a sip. It was more soil than water, but after a short few moments, I felt strength returning to my muscles and bones.

  I stood, dusted myself off, and took a deep breath. “That was something,” I said. “My magic didn’t work fully.”

  “That you could use any magic at all speaks to your strength.” The veiled woman nodded. She rose and moved for the door. “Follow me.”

  I followed her. With any luck, she was leading me to a soft bed and a private room. I needed some time with my thoughts, especially after what I’d just gone through. And the Nathair was right—I needed rest more than anything right now.

  Chapter 7

  The reverent sister led me down a series of hallways that pushed deeper into the rock. Here, a damp chill rippled off the walls. Water droplets clung to the rock, shimmering in the faint light. Thunder rumbled faintly.

  Taru’s power is all around us here.

  As we walked, I thought about that drink she’d given me. Whatever was in it, my strength had returned. The ache in my muscles had all but passed, and the bruises on my arm had faded. That earthy potion was better than a healing spell.

  “What can you tell me about the Institute, Reverent Sister?”

  “True knowledge is only for the initiated. You must not explore on your own.” She turned to look at me, though I couldn’t see her face. “You must keep to your room at all times, unless you’re accompanied by a knight.”

  I’d be breaking that rule just about as soon as I could.

  “What would happen to an unsworn who left their room?” I asked.

  “The Reaper would kill you,” she whispered.

  I blinked. “What’s the Reaper?”

  “This way,” the reverent sister said, ignoring my question.

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her seemed a bit … off. Maybe it was how she sort of glided as she walked, like a jellyfish skimming through water. Maybe her kindness alone was suspect, given that everyone else here was an arsehole. Was she the Reaper?

  Or maybe I just had trust issues, and I shouldn’t cast aspersions on the one person here who’d been somewhat nice to me.

  We approached an ornate black door etched with beautiful silver swirls. As we drew closer, the door opened on its own, joints creaking loudly. Immediately, a welcoming aroma hit me. Closing my eyes, I breathed in deeply. It smelled of burning rosemary and rain-dappled spring flowers. The reverent sister stepped aside at the threshold, motioning for me to walk in front.

  The room beyond the door was huge. Floating crystals glowed beneath towering stone arches. At the far end of the hall, tall windows overlooked a stormy vista: nothing but clouds, spears of lightning, and rain hammering the glass. I hugged myself. There was something very cozy about being inside during a storm.

  As I stepped into the room, the floors turned to soft carpet. I frowned, looking down at my feet. It wasn’t just carpet, but fur. I was stepping on the skinned hide of some beast so large he couldn’t belong to this world.

  I surveyed the hall around me, waiting for the reverent sister. Silver, silken sheets hung between marble columns to create soft partitions. As my eyes adjusted, I realized that silhouettes of people lounged behind the cloths—maybe seven or eight altogether? One looked like he was holding a hookah, smoke clouding around him.

  If there had been conversation happening in this room, though, it had died the moment I entered. I couldn’t quite tell on the other side of the cloths, but I had the sense that all eyes were on me. It wasn’t exactly a welcoming feeling.

  The reverent sister stepped inside, and the door shut behind us. No idea where she’d got them from, but she held out another tidy pile of clothes to me. “See to it that you are bathed.”

  Her voice was so gentle and comforting that I nearly missed the weirdness of the command. Before I could ask for clarification, she bowed and exited through the door, leaving me alone in a hall full of strangers, where I was apparently supposed to bathe.

  What in the world…?

  Someone behind a curtain spoke too quietly for me to understand, the start of a hushed conversation I wasn’t a part of. Whatever they said elicited a laugh.

  And here I was, getting laughed at by a bunch of featureless shadows behind sheets. What with my pit fight and the shower tussle with Oren, Wren definitely owed me several bottles of wine and a pizza or two.

  Holding my stack of clothes, I walked further into the hall. One sheet parted slightly as I walked past it. Half of a slender face came into view—a pointed chin, red lips, and a playful little mole. Her full lips pursed, and a cloud of vapor billowed out at my face. I got a glimpse of glittering, sheer fabric on her arms.

  I had the instinct to bat the mist away, even though it smelled of honey. The woman’s lips curled into a bright, mischievous smile. She flashed her pearly white teeth, her canines sharp, even for a fae. The smile then retreated beyond the veil. More snickering, more barely audible words. Tension curled around my body.

  Whoever these people were, they were obviously trying to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t about to let them. Instead, I kept walking quietly through the room until I spotted a closed door. With any luck, that would lead me to the bathroom.

  I paused as I reached it. Someone sat by the door, hunched in the shadows. A slight little thing with dark curls falling in her face. She hugged her knees. She wore the same plain, black clothes I did. She didn’t move an inch as I drew closer. Was she sleeping?

  Another step closer, and I asked, “Is that the bathroom?”
/>   Her head snapped up, and a pair of deep mahogany eyes fixed on me. She wore bright turquoise eyeliner that was vibrant against her sepia skin. Her lips had been painted black, though the lipstick had all but faded now, just tingeing the edges with shadows.

  She cocked her head, the movement swift and birdlike. “You ever look up into the night sky, and you’re not looking at the stars but the darkness between them, and you think we’re not just made of stardust but of vast emptiness, too?”

  “Um, no.”

  “It’s the bathroom,” she finally answered, dark eyes boring into me. “I’m not like the others.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “But you’re not like the others, either.”

  True. I wasn’t like the others—I’d come here to rescue someone, not to join this awful place. But how had I already been marked out as different? “Who did you hear that from? We’re all fae, aren’t we?”

  Her thin shoulders rose and fell. “Never mind. You probably wanna get cleaned up.”

  Was she about to rat me out? “Tell me what you meant, first. That I’m not like the others.”

  “Neither of us are. The other unsworn are gonna make sure we remember that.”

  “I don’t understand. How are we different? We’re all fae. All witches.”

  She pointed a black fingernail at me. “Ah, but they’re noble fae witches. They speak Ancient Fae. Glittering little dukes and marquesses. They chose to come here, for the glory of their families. If they lose the trials, they return to palaces and the kingdoms ruled by their parents. We were picked up off the streets. If we lose, we die. The dragon will eat us, I think, or the rock swallows us whole. We die here.”

  I clenched my fists, unnerved for a moment. But still, I wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to get eaten by a dragon. “It’s fine. We’re not going to die.” I had really no data behind this statement, but it seemed like the right thing to say. And I didn’t plan to stay here long, anyway. “Where are you from, anyway? You sound American.”

 

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