by K T Munson
“We are petitioning to have a Seer come and look around the area,” Jinq informed them, which sounded better than We think the demon’s daughter might be coming. “I need to know all the details in order to have a successful petition when she returns. I need you to tell me everything that happened the night your spirit animals went missing, no matter how insignificant or minor it might seem.”
“Where is she?” they asked. Jinq had to walk a fine line here.
These people might not know about the gates, but everyone knew about the Netherworld. It was impossible to hide the Soul Collectors. They went where they were summoned, called by a duty and to the dead. They brought order to chaos, all for some strange belief the Det Mor Clan had, which was enforced by the Morhaven King.
“She is in the Netherworld,” Jinq answered honestly. He would have to be careful to conceal her when she did come; they could not know other worlds existed beyond the Netherworld, and her appearance would give her away.
Murmurs ran among them, filled with worry and heartache. They could not understand why she’d had left them to enter such a dangerous place. Many knew about the Soul Collectors and their owners, but that was it. Only the elders on the council, the Keepers, and the Gate Guardian knew the whole truth. Even Kerrigan didn’t know, but that would change, as he would need her help to hide the Seer.
“Will you tell me how it started?” Jinq asked, talking just barely over their whispers. “Tell me everything.”
“We went to bed one night, and our animals vanished,” a woman said and shuddered. “I woke up from a nightmare, and he was gone.”
“It wasn’t just Rina. We all had nightmares the night that our spirit animals vanished.” The man’s voice was filled with despair.
If their spirit animals were dead, every person in that room should have died with them, unless something dark was at work keeping them alive. A shiver crawled up his spine at the possibility.
“What were the nightmares about?” Jinq asked.
They all glanced at one another. Jinq could see their eyes asking each other if they should say any more—if they should keep the details of their dreams to themselves or share them. He was beginning to believe they were hiding something from him. It must be a terrible secret to withhold, though, in such dire times. He suppressed the clench of worry in his gut as he wondered what was more terrifying than death.
“The plains around our village were on fire,” one woman finally said. When someone tried to hush her, she pulled her arm free. “I remember feeling trapped.”
“I remember blood,” another said, her hands shaking as she looked at them. “It was all over my hands.”
“That was in my dream, too,” one of the men agreed, his voice filled with agony at the memory.
“There were men in robes in mine,” another man said.
“They were chanting in my dream,” a woman with dark hair said, her face drawn and pinched.
Jinq listened as they recounted their shared dreams. Some remembered that the men were chanting; others said they were silent. Many remembered seeing other spirit animals, but not their own. Jinq sat listening, letting their words wash over him as he took in the themes of chanting men, fire, and blood.
“What does it mean?” one of the women said.
“Shared dreams are nothing good,” Jinq admitted. “Give me leave to explore this area.”
“Our council did not agree,” said their elected temporary leader, whose name had escaped Jinq’s memory. “But I will ask again.”
Jinq nodded before rising and moving toward the exit. He glanced back at the people around the room watching him with deadened expressions. Their hopelessness was like a plague. He kept his hand firmly against Hibrius’s back before leaving. His walk through town was much the same as it had been the first time, but he felt something darker, and he remembered Kerrigan’s words. She had seen death in this place—darkness so powerful that it had dragged her in there like a vortex.
She had been rattled by what she saw, a burning planet. Jinq had been blocked from it. He had seen nothing, and that worried him more. Kerrigan was more susceptible to whatever was happening here and would continue to be if the toxic gloom of this place continued to spread. When he reached the edge of town, an idea struck him. He stuck close to the edge of the forest and began searching. It wasn’t long until he came across a small seared rock that had been licked by flames not a fortnight ago. He lifted it up to the sun and knew things in Himota were not as they seemed.
Chapter 35: Netherworld
Nanette tossed and turned in her sleep as she listened to the scratching. The spider creature was trying to get at her, and it wouldn’t stop. The darkness of that night—an unrelenting pitch black—had spread around her, but the sound had been there, a scraping noise. Were it not for her complete exhaustion, she imagined sleep would never have come. The grating sound continued, and she wanted to scream.
She could smell its strange metallic blood and saw the gouges in the stone. She heard it clicking, listened to its call for food, hunger seemingly overcoming any pain of its crumpled hind legs. The noises made her feel half insane. It was there now, trying to get at her in the darkness. She tried not to move or breathe, but it was coming.
Nanette awoke in complete darkness. Fear gripped her as she immediately tried to push herself out of bed. She screamed on instinct, her eyes seeking out any light they could. Her skin broke out in a cold sweat as she listened for the clicking, but she couldn’t hear it. Her breathing was hard and sharp as a light glared to life. She immediately shielded her eyes as her savior came close. She reached out for him instinctively, her fear of the dark making her sob uncontrollably.
He set the light down and pressed down on her arms. At first she was so frantic to take hold of him that she fought his grip on her. After a moment, she realized he was trying to calm her down. She felt her breathing start to slow as his face came into focus. His hands were still on her arms, so she locked her hands onto his elbows. She inhaled and exhaled in a measured way, trying to reign in her wild heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing around as she tried to see further into the darkness and failed. “I don’t like the dark.”
She couldn’t keep herself from shaking as she slowly let her arms fall. He released her shoulders as she pulled her legs up against her body. It was difficult not to act like a child when she was so afraid. She wrapped her arms around her legs and brought them to her chest. Putting her head on her knees, she squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears fall against the blanket.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and glanced up. Her savior was holding fire next to a small cylinder. She watched as the fire came to life and specks of light fell across the bed and walls. He pushed it and it started to spin, and she realized they were horses running across the wall. She pushed the sheet flat so she could watch it run.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up again, but discovered he was gone.
Rising, Nanette went to the edge of the room and peered down the hall. She stood, pensive, as she tried to decide what to do. Glancing back at the dancing horses, she put an arm out into the darkness. It was strange that the light didn’t seem to penetrate it. The darkness ended where this room began.
When she pulled her arm back, it was unchanged. It had been lost to the darkness for an instant as though an obscuring fog had descended upon the Netherworld rather than simply night. That first night, she had been so exhausted and hurt that she’d assumed her little sanctuary had made it so dark. Now she realized it had been much more than that.
“Where are you?” she asked the empty air as her hand touched the barrier.
Frowning, Nanette turned around, unwilling to brave the darkness unless she had to. As of yet she hadn’t left the sanctuary and did not know where the long dark corridor led. She walked over to the lamp that still cast horse-shaped shadows, but they no longer ran. Twirling it, she laid her head on her arms as it spun and contemplated how her savior had
created such a thing. She was just about to return to the bed when she heard someone grunt and the sound of the something hitting the ground.
Nanette froze, her eyes scanning the darkness as she breathed softly, wishing to make herself small and invisible. Her eyes went wide when she realized he could be hurt. Picking up the light, she lifted a long thin blade he had left on the wall and stepped up to the darkness. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into it, and instantly the bright light dulled to a soft glow. Her ring and pinky fingers ran along the rough stone as she followed the hallway, the blade gripped in the other fingers.
As she lifted the dimmed lantern, she realized she must be crazy to be risking herself. On the other hand, though, if something happened to him, she would be lost. In a few more steps she saw a soft light. She moved toward it and nearly tripped over him. He lay on his stomach and a dull red light burned in his lamp. She put the back of her hand on her nose at the smell. Whatever it was he had put in the lamp to ward away his attacker had worked, and she could smell why. It reminded her of singed hairs and sour milk.
Nanette put down her lamp and slowly rolled him over, careful not to cut him with the blade. When he was on his back, she patted his shoulder and whispered, “It’s all right.”
She put the knife down across his chest so that it lay there as she lifted him up by his armpits. Pushing the light back with her foot, she heard it scrape against the ground. She dragged him toward the safety of the cave but nearly dropped him when her leg protested. It welled with pain at his added weight, but she tried to ignore it, though tears were burning her eyes.
When she tried to reposition the lamp, her foot slipped, and she fell. Her body was jolted as she fell half into the room with a groan. Getting her feet under her, she pulled him along the floor and into the chamber. By the end, she was mostly rolling him across the floor until he was safely inside the cave. Sighing, she patted him on the head.
“You’re as solid as a rock and as unmoving as a boulder,” she said, pushing him off her leg, which had somehow gotten trapped underneath him, and further into the sanctuary. The room was dark except for the soft glow from the overturned lantern that lay between the room and the darkened corridor.
Standing, Nanette hobbled over and plunged her hand into the darkness. As her fingers wrapped around the handle, something touched her wrist. She gasped in surprise and tried to pull her hand back, but whatever was coiled around her wrist refused to budge. When the lantern bounced off the ground, she realized she’d dropped it. As Nanette sucked in a breath to scream, whatever was holding onto her wrist pulled her into darkness.
Chapter 36: Netherworld
Ki’s eyes followed Elisabeth as she ambled along the base of a cliff. The charm in her hand seemed to glow brightest whenever she stood under its opening. He could see the entrance to a cave that was up on the face of the mountain. It would be quite a climb, and he would have to do it alone without Elisabeth’s special sight to assist him. He could see light, and he could see some of the lesser demons, but Elisabeth could see everything.
“She is up there,” Elisabeth said, pointing up.
Just as quickly as the light burned bright, it began to fade. Ki frowned. “She was.”
There was movement as the mouth of the cave, and Ki could see a bald man at the edge. The man didn’t notice them at first as his gaze searched the horizon. Elisabeth took a step back, which drew his attention, and he looked startled to see them there. His face contorted in anger as he jumped from the opening. Elisabeth stumbled back. The edges of his tattered clothes flapped around him as he fell, and he landed in a crouch where she had been. Ki shifted to the space between Elisabeth and this strange man, his hands wrapped around the hilt of his daggers.
“Where is she?” Elisabeth demanded.
The bald man stopped, glaring at them both. He frowned as Ki stared at him with an even expression. When the man took a step toward Elisabeth, she pulled back from him, but when Ki took a step forward, she held a hand up to stop him. The man leaned forward and inhaled, taking in her scent, and Ki knew, without knowing why, that he should heed Elisabeth’s wishes. .
Elisabeth looked at him, confused and clearly uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem like she felt she was in danger. Ki kept his hands on his daggers nevertheless. He didn’t like the feel of the bald man with bandages over the lower half of his face. Ki pulled his steel half out as a warning, but he paused when Elisabeth gasped.
“You’re a…” she began, but he put a hand up to stop her.
He put a finger to his lips, and Elisabeth nodded. He pulled his hand back and started to make signals. She nodded again. He bowed to her slightly before he pointed up and then dashed away. As Ki walked up to stand next to her, Elisabeth seemed dazed. She stared at where the man had been, and something inside of Ki was displeased with her expression of awe.
“What is he?” he asked, disrupting her thoughts.
“I can’t say. Names have meaning here,” Elisabeth answered vaguely before looking at him. “He is going to take us to her.”
“It could be a trap.” Ki’s mood had soured, and it was reflected in the sharpness of his voice.
Elisabeth shook her head. “He thought we took her,” Elisabeth said, and Ki glanced at her, befuddled.
“How can you know that?” Ki asked as the bald man appeared again and made his way down.
“His face.” Elisabeth’s voice was airy. “She has only been here two days, and already she has charmed him. I want to know this woman who can survive the Netherworld and charm”—she glanced at him before adding—“his kind.”
The bald man put a pack over his head, and when he turned, Ki saw the markings on the man. His eyebrows rose, and he instantly understood. Those were runes, markings of great power, the kind used by the Chaos Clan. The kind that were reserved for those who had done terrible things and deserved their punishment—it was a powerful prison. Yet something about these marks struck him as different.
“Is it wise to follow this stranger?” he said, taking her wrist.
Her startled gaze rested where he held her firm, but her voice was mostly even. “He will not betray us to them, and he knows who took Nanette.”
He let go of her wrist and she visibly relaxed. Elisabeth was worlds away from falling victim to his Sin Eater. In the days he had spent with her, she had been a shining example of goodness and virtue. Part of him hoped she would never fall victim to it, but that part was so small within him that he endeavored to ignore it.
Ki fell silent as Elisabeth trailed behind the bald man. He had no choice but to follow as well. There were few things in the Nether that he could see for what they were, like Elisabeth did. If those markings were any indication, the bald man was powerful, or had been. He didn’t know exactly what the runes were or why they seemed to shift about on the man’s skin every once in a while. He would have to ask the elders after they returned to the planets.
They traveled through the night. Normally they would have been in danger, but whatever the man burned in his lantern kept the monsters at bay. Ki could see it burning a strange off-red and could smell the pungent scent. Between that and the power emanating from Elisabeth, the creatures of the Netherworld stayed at a safe distance. He could feel them in the darkness, though, and every once in a while he heard clicking. Weavers could not hurt a Soul Collector, and they would dare not try, yet they could still hunger for one. Ki had never known a Weaver to be picky.
Hours passed as they continued their walk, never resting as they picked their way across the countryside of the Nether. It was littered with ruins and barren fields. He admired the strange beauty of this derelict place. Eventually Morhaven came into view, its bright summery light penetrating the darkness. It was as though an artist had splashed green against a red canvas. Ki could see the barrier of Morhaven repel the night of the Netherworld, marked only by the change of rust to a field of green.
“Amazing,” Elisabeth breathed, her voice full of awe.
; The man didn’t wait for Elisabeth to overcome her wonderment. Ki made sure that Elisabeth was safely through before following her. When he glanced up, he beheld the strange weeping willow. Lights danced in the soft wind and stirred with the leaves. Ki was entranced as he strolled toward it. The bright red flowers seemed to dance in the wind, beckoning to him. He was lulled into a state of calm. A rough hand caught his arm and hauled him back. He struggled against it as Elisabeth’s face appeared in front of him. She was trying to say something but he ignored it, trying to shove around her.
Then, suddenly, he was back in the Netherworld. He panted and gazed longingly toward the lush green. Elisabeth was still on the other side of the barrier. The soft breeze rifled her hair, brushing it across her shoulders, as though she were a mirage. When she stepped across the threshold, her hair settled. Once Ki stilled, the bald man stepped back.
“What happened?” he asked, still dazed.
“You were called in by the Poppy Tree,” she said, crouching down beside him. “It seems you are more of a planet-dweller than you let on.”
The bald man stood went to the grass before turning back and saying in a bizarrely deep voice, “We must leave him here.”
“He spoke,” Ki said, shocked and still feeling dazed. He pointed at the bald man and looked toward Elisabeth for an answer.
“The runes suppress my voice until I return home,” he replied, and Ki slowly started to stand. “I shall only be free when I am in Morhaven.”
“You’re…” he started before glancing at Elisabeth. “I cannot trust you with them.”
Elisabeth hesitated and glanced at the bald man before sighing heavily as though conflicted. “I cannot trust you to come through here. The poppies of Morhaven are deadly,” she said, standing. “Stay here. I’ll be careful.”
“I will take care of her,” the bald man said.
Ki began to protest, but Elisabeth stopped him. “Ki,” she said, her voice a whisper, “you can’t come.”