“We’re going to that mine,” Edwin told the spirit. He had spent the last several minutes trying to get Herald to wake, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Maybe that issn’t a good idea,” his spirit said, coming out from under the bed.
“We have to go for Walt,” Edwin said, picking up Herald and his cloak. “I don’t understand… I assumed you would want to go to the mines to find this sanctuary. Well, here’s our chance.”
“You’ve always been afraid of the miness,” the spirit said, “and we’ve always known these women want you to go there. Perhapss we shouldn’t rush into anything.”
“I know you’ve never liked Walt, but he’s my friend. Remember what Herald said? Herald said that the Gate to the Host’s Tomb would only allow a Host with a mahr to pass. If the imp took Walt to the Host’s Tomb, Walt’s aunts won’t be able to save him, but maybe I could. I have to try”
“But it would be foolish to rush there blindly,” the spirit argued. “The time is not right. Your mother died, and she was many times more powerful than we. Is thiss guilt over the boy, the other one?”
Edwin felt blood rushing to his cheeks. “Don’t you dare mention Ashton to me. I told you that Walt is my friend, and that’s the only reason I need. I’m going.”
“I won’t be a party to your foolisnesss. If you do thiss, it is your choice and you go without me.”
Edwin glowered at it. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Herald is wrong; we’re nothing alike. You’re no more a part of me than dirt is part of a tree.”
He finished packing, and a flash of red energy coursed through the spirit’s essence before it retreated under the bed.
When Edwin left the Morriseys’ house, he felt more determined than ever to prove that, despite their connection, he and his spirit were nothing alike. He wished Herald would open for him—he wanted to know whether he would be able to open the Gate without his spirit, assuming he would somehow be able to find the Gate in the mines. But if the book wouldn’t open, there was nothing to be done about it.
Without thinking too much about it, Edwin walked to the entrance near where Walt’s parents had died, the place his spirit had shown him in his dreams. As he walked through Chardwick, he nervously passed guard after guard, but no one bothered him. Maybe it was that he was a lot much taller, having absorbed so much life at the Morriseys’ house; maybe it was that it was evening and the sun had already set over the cliff, giving him plenty of dark shadows in which to hide; or maybe it was that he was wearing many layers of warm clothes, which didn’t stand out because the temperature dropped so precipitously at night, even in spring.
Having folded his cloak to make a knapsack, he carried a few supplies slung over his shoulder. It wasn’t much, only a few things he had been able to find around the house: three apples, a length of rope, and a knife from the kitchen. And of course, there was Herald. After seeing the sisters’ interest in his book, he didn’t dare let it out of his sight.
When Edwin first left the house, a part of him had thought the spirit had been bluffing, but as he got farther, he began to feel the pangs of its absence. “I ca-can do this,” he grumbled to himself, refusing to consider that he was being rash. “I don’t need m-my spirit. I’m f-fine.” He tried to draw strength from the memory of how good he had felt these last few weeks, and he hoped it hadn’t all been the spirit.
Urging himself on, his mind began to feel muddier and muddier, and he held onto that feeling that he was doing something right. He knew that Walt would do the same for him. Rona Goodfellow. Eigil. Ashton. He repeated the list over and over again, like a litany.
The air became cool and dry as soon as Edwin passed the torches surrounding the entrance. A man with a soiled lunch bag was leaving, but he didn’t give Edwin a second glance. Turn around, go back, find your spirit! his mind screamed, but he continued walking.
Running his hand along the wall, the rock felt wet and jagged. A moment later a woman approached, and he pulled his hand back and tried to look like he belonged. Like the man before her, she also ignored him.
The air was hotter and thicker inside the tunnel, reminding him of his mother’s escape in his nightmares. Torches lined the walls, red shadows filled every bump and crevice, and only a short distance in, the little tunnel merged with a bigger tunnel that was alive and busy with activity. Ahead, more tunnels branched off in every direction with people floating between them listlessly, but Edwin refused to consider going back. He thought of Walt and repeated the list in his head: Rona Goodfellow. Eigil. Ashton.
Having long passed the tunnel where the Morriseys had died, it wasn’t long before Edwin was completely lost, and after a while he began to hear a distant noise. It came on so slowly and subtly that he couldn’t place the moment between hearing and not hearing it. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. As he walked, and walked, and walked, it all looked the same and he never felt like he got anywhere, but he was thankful that no one paid him any attention.
Hours may have passed—it was impossible to tell below ground—and he didn’t know what he expected to happen, hoping only that if he kept looking, eventually he would find an answer. Though he refused to admit it to himself, a part of him was sure he was walking in circles, and he was shocked when he finally stumbled on a tunnel protected by two guards, each well-lit standing below a torch. They were still a good distance away, and Edwin stopped and pretended to adjust his knapsack while a burly miner passed by, with Edwin watching intently as the guards questioned the man before letting him pass.
Edwin wanted to stay and watch another miner go through, but he had fiddled on the ground with his knapsack as long as he dared. Without a plan, he wasn’t ready to approach the guards, and he decided to retreat in the other direction to give his muddled mind a moment to think. He hadn’t walked but a few steps when he thought he saw a flickering light, just out of reach, off to his side. Only, when he turned to get a better look, the light was gone.
With his heart beating fast, the light suddenly reappeared and again only lasted a moment.
Forcing himself not to run, Edwin looked over his shoulder and saw the guards staring in his direction. It didn’t appear they had yet seen anything.
But then another light flickered to his side, followed by another and another. It was more than one now, all of them tiny, all of them only lasting a moment, and more kept coming, creating a swarm that moved purposefully and was bright enough to light the ground in front of him. They lit the air and flew towards the wall. One light flickered into being close to his eye, and he saw that it was a tiny insect, only the head looked almost human. Was the Host’s sanctuary trying to help him? He tried to move between them and the guards, wanting to block them, but the little lights were quickly sapping the last of his courage. The lights seemed to be leading him somewhere, but the guards had finally taken notice and were running towards him. All at once the little lights disappeared into the wall.
Confused and panicking, Edwin put his hand to the wall but the wall wasn’t there, and his hand disappeared before his eyes. The guards were almost on top of him now, and he followed his hand into the wall, where he found himself inside a pitch-dark chamber. Putting his hands up, he inched forward and tried to find something to touch, but the darkness was disorienting and he was barely able to keep his balance or make one foot walk in front of the other.
Stupid. This was a mistake. I never should have left my spirit, never should have come to the mines. But Walt…. Think! What do I do now? Stupid. Stupid!
With no idea where he was or what was happening, he was breathing so hard he could hardly catch his breath. He wasn’t sure how long he stumbled along, blind and lost, but it felt like a lifetime.
And then the flickering lights returned.
The group seemed smaller, but to his relief, they seemed to be leading him somewhere. Swarming around him, they flickered in and out of existence, and Edwin couldn’t help but smile. “I h-h-hope you know where you’re t-t-taking me,”
he whispered to the lights as they danced around him.
They seemed to travel a great distance before Edwin realized that the swarm was thinning. It wasn’t until there were no more than a handful of lights remaining that they came to a stop. They had reached another wall, but unlike the previous wall, they didn’t move through this one. Grouped together into a small ball, the little light-insects created the outline of what looked to be a small keyhole that, when he put his head level with the hole, he could see through to an empty tunnel on the other side. He put his hand up to the wall and pushed, but nothing happened. It was just as it looked, a wall.
“Well, how am I s-s-supposed to get out?” he asked the little lights. While he stood there trying to figure out what to do, the lights continued to dim. “Y-you look like a lock, but where’s the k-key?”
On his knees, he felt around the floor for something, anything, he might have missed, not understanding how he could open a lock without a key. Not finding anything, he went back to the lock and felt the rock around it. There wasn’t anything special about it. The air felt stale and heavy, and the darkness seemed to be tightening its grip around him, suffocating him. Unable to calm his breathing, he started hitting the wall, and he was still hitting the wall when the last light died out.
Alone in the darkness, he imaged slowly suffocating or starving, and the full impact of his stupidity hit him. Worse than getting himself in trouble, he hadn’t been able to help Walt. He should have talked his spirit into coming; he never should have left alone. And even if his spirit came looking for him now, he wasn’t sure it would be able to find him here. He didn’t even know where here was.
And then, like being struck in the head, he remembered. “The book!” he said aloud, feeling dumb and silly. After pulling the book from his sack, he said, “Herald. Are y-y-you there?”
“It’s dark,” said the book tiredly.
“Yes, I know it is. Herald, I need your help.”
“I’m a book. I don’t do well in the dark.”
“Herald, I’m t-trapped. We’re trapped. There were these lights, only they were bugs but with human heads, and then w-we were inside the w-w-wall in a secret tunnel, and now we can’t get out.”
Edwin heard the book yawn. “What do you want me to do about it? I am a book, and it’s dark. You can’t read in the dark, you know.”
“Y-you’re a talking book. I don’t need to read you. You can tell me what you know.”
“Quite wrong,” Herald replied. “We books like light. When it’s dark we sleep. Besides, I had no idea you associated with traitors. Goodnight now.” With that the book locked its prongs shut and refused to open.
“What do you mean, t-traitors?” Edwin cried as he banged on the book.
When he had exhausted himself yelling and cursing, he curled up on the ground in a ball. At least his cloak was soft and warm. Without the spirit he didn’t even have the power to light a fire. Fitfully, he drifted in and out of sleep, completely unaware of how much time passed.
A light appeared in the distance. For a few groggy moments, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him. Then, with a start, he jumped up, faltered, and ran towards it. As he got closer, he saw that it was a door, just like the one that had gotten him into this mess. Stumbling through it, he found himself in the tunnel he had seen through the keyhole. To his left, the tunnel extended as far as he could see. To his right, the tunnel curved.
Heat radiated from his right, as well as a strange blue-white light.
* * *
“That was the last of our potions,” Gretchen said angrily. The air smelled of wet rock, and the torchlight cast a dark shadow across her face.
“It can’t be!” Meryl cried.
“Why did he come alone? No Host would leave without his mahr,” Pyre added.
“All is lost!” Mistral moaned.
“No, we’ll find another way,” Gretchen said, but she couldn’t hide the bitterness form her voice. “Not bringing his mahr to open the keyhole was an unfortunate setback. His power, not ours, was supposed to fuel the final doorway past Chardwick’s guards.” She flattened her empty purse carefully between her fingers and stored it in her garter. “On the other hand, our deceit worked. The boy is walking the tunnels. Soon he will reach the Tomb.”
“Even if he does, he will never pass without his mahr,” Pyre said. “How will he get back to Chardwick? He can only follow manmade tunnels without his mahr, and eventually the villagers will find him. What then?”
Gretchen shrugged. “We have done what we can. Now it is up to the boy.”
“But we can’t risk losing him!” Meryl said.
“If we kill him now, there might still be time to gather the other ingredients to conjure a candle,” Pyre added. “The scared mahr of a pitiful Host is better than no mahr at all. Perhaps another opportunity will come, a better one.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gretchen spat. “This is our best chance of ever recovering the Host’s Tomb. Only he, this boy, raised by these villagers, would not see us for what we are.” She shook her head. “No, better we step aside and trust that the boy will open the Gate.”
Suddenly, the fifth sister hushed the others. “Shh. The mahr approaches,” Mina said.
* * *
Walking towards the blue-white light, Edwin rounded the corner and the tunnel gave way to a huge moat in a cavern big enough to fit all of Chardwick. The moat was so wide and deep that he was sure the Hosts must have created it, and his jaw dropped when he looked over the edge and saw bug-sized miners moving rock at the bottom. This must be the rock they carted up to Newick, the rock Lady Nemain had said fueled the Shades’ powers. On the ledge, a good distance away from where he stood, a lone bridge connected the manmade tunnels to whatever lay across the moat.
The rock on the other side of the moat was uneven and craggy, and littered with a small army of strange man-shaped piles of earth and mud. A massive field of yellow flowers covered the craggy ground, all leaning inland towards the blue-white light, like trees leaning towards the sun.
Past the odd field was the strangest forest he had ever seen. The trees’ limbs were gnarled and sparsely covered with strange incandescent leaves, and beyond this forest, somewhere Edwin couldn’t see, was the source of the white-light. As though to answer a question just forming at the tip of his mind, he heard a distant scream. Looking down the moat again, he saw a puddle of molten rock oozing out of a hole a miner cut into the other side of the rock. The Hosts’ creation had an interior like a blacksmith’s forge, and Edwin now noticed similar pockmarks littered throughout the moat. The land beyond the moat was some sort of defense, and there was only one path to the Host’s Tomb. He wondered if this enchanted cavern explained the hot spring under Master Carrion’s greenhouse… but he shook away the thought. That wasn’t important now.
A woman spoke behind him and made him jump, and being so close to the ledge, he struggled to regain his balance.
“What were they thinking digging into the forbidden rock?” she asked a man walking next to her. “I know we’re behind schedule getting that cart up to Newick, but we can’t afford to be careless with everything that’s happened this season. These are the darkest times I’ve ever seen.”
“Newick is draining the magic from these stones faster than ever,” the man said. “You know what pressure the Lucent is under to—” The pair rounded the corner, saw Edwin, and froze.
The woman spoke first: “Boy, what are you doing here? Apprentices aren’t allowed in this area.”
Edwin turned to run, and behind him he heard the woman cry, “It’s him, the boy, the Other, the one who escaped! Hurry! The boy, he’s here!”
There was no way back the way he had come, so he followed the ledge towards the bridge to the other side of the moat, the woman’s footsteps echoing behind him. “Stop! Someone get him! The boy’s here!”
In the distance two miners appeared from a tunnel with pick-axes. Seeing Edwin and the pair behind him, they ran to
wards the bridge to block his way.
“Need any help?” the spirit hummed in his ear.
“Yes! You came!” Edwin exclaimed. He’d never been so glad to see the spirit in his life.
“I couldn’t just let you die,” the spirit said. “And look at the mess you’ve gotten yoursself in. You need me.”
Not wasting a moment, he called the creature into him, and it disappeared from sight in an instant. Barreling towards the bridge, he leapt over the two miners blocking his way with ease. They ran behind him on the narrow little bridge, but with Edwin and the spirit joined they didn’t stand a chance of catching him.
“The boy! Everyone, the boy!” the men yelled, and a loud bell chimed in the distance. When Edwin glanced over his shoulder, he saw that the ledge was filling with miners, all moving towards the bridge.
Edwin was almost across the bridge when he heard someone call on the Fury, but he never stopped running, not even when he found himself knee-deep in flowers. They made little cooing noises and moved over to clear a path for him. Closer to the man-shaped piles of earth, each as big as a small house, he saw they had crude eyes and mouths filled with some kind of parchment. When he finally took a moment to look back, he saw that the miners had stopped at the bridge, the closest mere inches from the flowers; they formed a human wall that stretched back over the bridge, onto the ledge, and into the tunnels.
Since they had stopped following, Edwin stopped running, but he continued backing away from the bridge towards the strange underground forest, all the while conscious of the sound of the shuffling flowers at his feet. There was movement within the wall of miners, and he saw someone maneuvering forward with surprising speed.
A minute later, as the person neared the bridge, Edwin saw that it was Lady Nemain dressed in a green silk dress unfit for the mines. “We’ve been preparing for you, Edwin!” she yelled across the bridge. “I’ve been watching the mines, and the Lucent and his horn guard the village. You have nowhere to run!” When Edwin kept backing away, she added, “Come back across the bridge. There’s no reason you can’t die a noble death under the Great Tree.”
The Dark Passenger (Book 1) Page 23