If the Seekers were joining the fray, there was no way they could lose. They were as ready as they’d ever be and Kirheen felt her heart swell with determination and pride. The time had come to finally see it all brought to an end.
CHAPTER 32
Garild woke in the early hours of the morning to a familiar song. There was a strange urgency to it, a leash around his neck that yanked him out of bed, bleary-eyed and weary. He groaned, aggravated by the disruption, and slipped on a loose pants and a flowing shirt before cramming his feet into a pair of sandals. He pushed aside the curtain giving him a small measure of privacy and crept across the room. He could hear the gentle snores and breathing of the others in the room and he stayed quiet, not wanting to wake them.
He wound his way down the stairs and slipped out the front door. There wasn’t a soul awake yet, the morning light just beginning to creep through the trees, distorting the world in a strange blur of colors. He didn’t like being outside at such an hour. The forest was alive, the faintly glowing eyes of predators watching him from the shadows.
Hurrying along the trails, he tried not to think about the things that wanted to eat him and instead focused on obeying the call in his head. He was going to have a firm talk with her about the annoyance of using her powers to lure people out of bed. He’d also suggest she not ever wake him in such a manner ever again.
The song surged in his head, breaking from a sweet melody into something else entirely. It swerved into a chaotic, terrifying hum and it sent a chill up his spine. He hurried towards his destination, suddenly afraid of what he might find at her tower.
The white building loomed over him and the song was so loud in his head, he thought it might break him. The stairs were a struggle as he fought against the frantic notes careening through his skull and when he reached the top of the tower, his breath was ragged, his clothes soaked with sweat.
Samira was pacing back and forth across the room, wrapped in a thin cream colored robe that brushed the ground as she walked. The sconces were lit around the room, basking it in a warm, gentle light so at odds with the song in his head. She did not look at him as he approached and she mumbled under her breath, some strange hymn that he couldn’t understand.
The song was too loud and he fought against the pain it caused as it tore into his mind. He lurched forward, grabbed Samira by the arm and she jumped, gasping as she whirled on him. He ducked down, narrowly avoiding her elbow. The song shattered in his head and he shuddered, knowing just how close he’d come to being swallowed by that power.
Samira was a mess. Her curls were loose and tangled, her eyes ringed with dark circles. Her breathing was ragged, her skin slick with sweat. And the crystals in her chest - those were the worst of all. It looked like someone had doused them in dark oil. That pure, gentle light that normally swelled from within had been drowned out beneath it. They were as dark as obsidian, swirling with chaos and malice.
“S-samira,” he stammered, his eyes wandering back to her face. “Are you okay?”
“No, you idiot,” she gasped, stumbling forward a step. “Does it look like it?”
Garild flinched. At least part of her was the same. “No, not at all. What is wrong with you?”
She raised a hand and clutched at her chest, her face tight with pain. “If I knew that I wouldn’t have called you here. You’re the only one stupid enough to not know how to block me out.”
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, taking a step towards her. “What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped, gritting her teeth against the pain. “I don’t know. Something is wrong. Something is happening and I can’t, I can’t…” She fell to her knees, a gasp of pain escaping between clenched teeth. Garild sunk to the ground with her, reaching out his hand. Her skin was fire, burning with an unnatural heat.
“Samira, let me get Trista. Let me get help. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing-”
“Just stay,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut as she rocked back and forth. There came the unrecognizable hymn again, a prayer whispered in desperation. He stayed with her, watched her crystals grow darker and darker. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. He reached towards her mind only to recoil from the cloying black smoke swirling within.
Whatever was happening to her couldn’t be understood, couldn’t be helped. There was nothing like her, no being with that much power at their fingertips. She forced herself through the pain, her prayer rising and falling with each hurt she encountered. It felt like hours before it finally calmed, before the darkness marring her crystals retreated, a small bit of light shining through.
She started laughing and Garild studied her face, confused. Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she was smiling, her laugh a small, broken thing. She’d made it through the pain, through whatever had wormed its way into her. “You okay?” he asked, her fingers still wrapped around his.
“I think I’m going to be,” she sighed. “I - whew, that was something else. I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Help me up.”
Garild rose to his feet and reached for her elbow. She pushed herself up, steadying herself against him as she tried to find her balance. Her body quivered for a brief moment before going completely rigid, her muscles tightening beneath his grip. He looked towards her face and then followed her gaze, locked onto the floor where she’d just been. It was fear he saw in her eyes and he sucked in a breath before tilting his chin down, his eyes widening at what he saw.
There was a bubbling black handprint on the ground where she’d been sitting. It moved and writhed, like hundreds of black worms crawling over each other. It was starting to spread, the crisp outlines of the print becoming splotchy, like spilled ink on paper. Little tendrils reached out, crawled up and over, dragging that handprint out until it didn’t resemble a handprint at all. Garild drew back, drawing Samira with him but she was fighting him, shoving him away roughly with one hand.
Garild released his grip and staggered away from her. She was staring at her other hand, the one she’d used to push herself up off the ground with. Black tar oozed from her skin, threads of vile corruption poking out of the palm of her hand. It coiled around her fingertips, dripped to the floor below. She held it away from herself, her expression grim. “Get out,” she said, her eyes never leaving the spreading corruption. “Get…out.”
It took him a moment to realize what she was demanding of him. “N-no! Samira, what the hell is it?”
“I don’t know and until I do you will leave this room. I will bar the door and you will let none enter, and should this spread beyond these walls, you will burn this tower to the ground. Do you understand me?” she demanded, turning her head towards him. There would be no arguing with her, he could see that much in the determined set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, I get it. I-I’ll be here. I’ll keep watch. Just let me know what’s happening. Please. Let me know what to do.”
She only nodded, her eyes trailing back to the bubbling corruption in the palm of her hand. The handprint had grown into a dark, slimy circle that leapt and bubbled, hungry and searching. He retreated from the room, swinging the door shut behind him. It shook beneath his hands as she barred it from the other side, effectively locking herself inside.
Something akin to grief was working its way out of his heart and at the outskirts of it, a terror he’d hope to never know. He sank to the ground, his heart thumping wildly, his skin growing cold and clammy. “No. No, no, no, no, no…” It wasn’t real. He was still dreaming, still asleep in his bed and it was a nightmare dredged from the endless studying and worrying he’d done. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been.
But it was. There was no mistaking that corruption, that swirling abyss so hungry and terrifying. His mind couldn’t create so perfect a terror, couldn’t make it feel so real. The nightmare had become reality and there would be no running from it. He sat at the base of the door, watching and
waiting for familiar black tendrils to come devour him.
CHAPTER 33
“The princess is helping us? And the Seekers too?” Tomias asked, completely bewildered. “That’s… unexpected. What else did I miss?” His hair was a mess, white strands plastered to his forehead. Kirheen reached out a hand, pushed his hair back out of his face. He caught her wrist and stared at her intently. “It’s real, right - what I feel and know and felt? This is…”
Kirheen smiled softly. “It’s real,” she said. “Now quit second guessing yourself before I change my mind.”
He grinned, all boyish delight. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s a change, one that’ll take a little getting used to. I’ve kept my distance and-”
Kirheen put a finger to his lips. “I know. You don’t have to say it. I understand.”
He drew her forward, enwrapping her in his arms. His head rested on her shoulder and he kissed her neck softly. “So, tonight the royal family falls.”
“That’s the plan,” she sighed, sinking against him, the tension leaving her body. “Something feels wrong though. I can’t explain it. It’s not the plan, it’s not the princess. Everything just feels off somehow.”
“Nerves, maybe? We’re about to change history, Kir. Years and years of atrocities are about to be answered for and our people will finally have the right to live.”
“I know, I know. I just wish I didn’t feel like this…” She should have been elated but there was a restlessness she couldn’t explain, a growing sense of fear and discomfort. There was something in the city calling to her, hiding just out of sight. It wasn’t just nerves. How could she possibly explain it to him when she couldn’t comprehend it herself? “You’re right,” she lied. “It’s just nerves.” She pushed away from him. “It’s almost time. Let’s hope we’re ready for this.”
“We have to be,” Tomias said. “Can’t exactly turn around now. Just promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll stay safe. Promise me you’ll find me again in the end.”
“I will,” she said. “I promise.”
The room was crowded, chocked with a gathering crowd of rebels, Seekers and a few stray soldiers no longer willing to serve the queen. It was strange to see them gathered together, to not have to wonder who friend or foe was, though in the case of the Seekers it was hard to tell the difference. Many of them had loyally followed the royal family for years. They had facilitated the murder and killing of so many innocents and Kirheen hoped they’d pay for it in the end. This final act would never be enough to cleanse them of their crimes. Most of them had discarded their masks, revealing their faces for all to see. There would be no hiding after it was over. Only one among them hid their identity, the tall female Seeker Kirheen had faced off against. She could feel the woman’s eyes drilling into her from across the room and she shifted nervously, forcing her gaze elsewhere. It made her uncomfortable.
Tomias had gone still, his eyes glancing to where she’d been looking. He looked at the Seeker for a brief second, eyes filled with fear, and quickly looked away. “Not sure how I feel about having them here,” he mumbled.
“Tell me about it,” Daris grunted. “And in just a few short hours, we get to be stuck in a tunnel with them.”
“It’s an ally at least,” Tegan chimed in. “We’re in desperate need of those right now. This is good, however temporary it may be.”
Kirheen, and her small cluster of friends, had been chosen by Mason to take to the tunnels running beneath the city. The Seekers were well acquainted with them and would lead them to the castle, cutting down any resistance along the way. It also meant they’d be stuck in the dark with a group of people that had been their enemy.
The thought sent a tingle up her spine and she bolstered her mind, letting her powers swell within her. She didn’t want to chance any of them slipping into her mind and she kept her walls secure. Gray eyes continued to glance in her direction and she didn’t regret the extra effort she put into guarding her mind.
Mason stepped to the center of the room and raised a hand, silently calling for their attention. A hush settled over everyone, a single breath held in anticipation. His words were simple, the truth of them ringing loud and clear as a bell. “Tonight, the royal family falls.”
The tunnels smelled of damp earth and rot and Kirheen found herself trying not to breath. Her friends were at her side, looking anxious in the shifting light of the torches. The leader of the Seekers stood a couple paces ahead, her own group sticking close, a flock of ravens in the firelight. She’d learned her name was Mirin, and Tomias was suspiciously quiet about her, about what he’d been through while he’d been her prisoner. It was possible he couldn’t remember, that whatever had happened to him he’d blocked out. Whatever it was, he was making a habit of placing himself between Kirheen and the woman, protectively guarding her from sight.
It was impossible to see anything beyond the edge of the torch light, the path they followed disappearing into the dark. It brought to mind the cave leading out of Sanctuary. She shook the thought away. The last thing she needed was to be thinking about homicidal talking doors and terrifying illusions. There was too much at stack. She needed to stay focused.
There was a gentle nudge against her mind, a sensation felt by all in the tunnel. Mason had sent the call. It was time. Mirin turned away from them, silent and dreadful, setting out on a path into the darkness. Her torch shone bright, a beacon to follow. It cast strange shadows and Kirheen flinched at every noise and movement from the darkness beyond. The anticipation of an attack had her on edge, as did the strange sensation growing stronger within her chest. That pull that had plagued her for so long was strengthening, becoming painful the closer they got to the castle. Perhaps what she sought would be found within.
Rats squeaked and water dripped, but the tunnels were devoid of any other sound. Those that had supported the royal family had splintered, some choosing to remain loyal to the queen, while others joined the rebels. Those remaining had felt the coming storm, had chosen to run from it. There would be resistance, but what remained was weakened. It was the perfect time to strike.
As they bore deeper beneath the city, Kirheen could feel the pressure of the earth, the thousands of pounds of dirt and rock hovering above them. She didn’t like feeling so enclosed, the sensation causing her skin to grow clammy and her heart to race. She’d be thankful when they left the tunnels behind.
After what felt like eternity, they reached a ladder that would take them to Lillana’s personal chambers. Once inside the castle, they’d secure safe entry for the princess and the remaining rebels fighting their way through the front.
One of the Seekers approached the ladder and began to climb. Bracing himself at the top, he pushed against the hatch, once, twice, a third time. It gave way with a groan and the Seeker cautiously peered into the room beyond. Something long and sharp was shoved down from above, cutting through him as if he were made of paper. The spear retreated and he fell from the ladder, landing in a heap at the bottom.
There was stunned silence and then everyone drew back away from the ladder. Spears rained down, chucked from soldiers standing above. “They’re here,” someone cried, their voice echoing down through the hatch. Kirheen could hear the clanking of armor, but none of the soldiers descended into the tunnel. They had the high ground and they weren’t going to give it up without a fight.
“Bastards,” Mirin rumbled. “Guess they knew we were coming.” She turned towards Kirheen and the others. “We’re going to have to push from above and below. We’ll push upwards and fight physically, but I need the rest of you to throw them off balance mentally. Think you can handle that?”
“Of course we can,” Tegan said, glaring at Mirin.
“Then do it and quit standing around.”
Kirheen watched as Mirin raised a thin shield above her head, wide enough to protect herself, and anyone below, from harm. She launched forward and started to climb, followed by several of her loyal Seekers.
&n
bsp; Turning her focus to the room above, Kirheen reached out with her powers, grasping for a mind to torment. It was harder than she’d imagined it would be. She’d spent most of her life practicing against those that had powers. Each of their minds felt unique, every mental barrier giving a hint at the person it belonged to. The minds of the ungifted felt empty, an undecorated room with the door left open for looters. There was resistance there, but it was thin, easily breakable.
Her power latched on to one of the soldiers above. In his mind she could see bloodshed and anger, the smell of liquor a plague upon his senses, all consuming. She reached deeper, found his fears, and pulled. The Seekers had made it above and there was the heavy thunk of blades on shields, the ringing of steel, and grunts of expended effort. Around her, the others worked, toying with minds and hearts. The battle was over quickly, and Mirin called to them from above. “You can come up. It’s safe now.”
Kirheen and the others scrambled up the ladder, carefully stepping over bodies as they crowded into the elaborate dressing room belonging to the princess. The Seekers had moved into her bedroom and they followed, trying to avoid the felled soldiers as they went.
“What a mess,” Daris mumbled, looking back over his shoulder.
Outside the room, the sound of fighting could be heard. “We need to get moving,” Mirin said. “The others are pushing in from the front. Let’s go aid them.”
Kirheen trailed behind the group, the fire in her chest flaring with an intensity that about dropped her to her knees. She gasped, hand grasping at her shirt, trying to separate cloth from skin. A sound was building within her mind, a song. It demanded her attention, her obedience.
The fighting was happening all around her. Blades cut through the air, seeking targets that were there one moment only to vanish the next, an illusion blurring where they had been moments before. Minds reached out, sought barriers to crush. Noise and light and sound were all drowned out by a single, solitary purpose. Answer.
The Allseer Trilogy Page 60