“No,” Sam said. “You have fed off the magic of others long enough. Go and live whatever time you have left in peace. Try to make amends.”
Gretchen smiled wickedly. “Is that your final word, Sam? You wish to live without us?”
Walt looked genuinely upset. “Sam, no, please,” he pleaded.
Sam’s face remained expressionless. “It’s for the best. Now go before I change my mind.” Behind them, the imp’s tentacles hung limply in the air.
Bowing her head, Gretchen said, “Come, sisters. We have lost.”
Edwin felt only a moment’s relief before the witches started cackling, and the air filled with light as they wielded the elements in their hands. Fire flew in thick molten columns from beneath the lake, swifter than Edwin would have thought possible. The rainwater on the floor began coalescing into a huge ball in the air. The wind grabbed wood, glass, dirt, and anything else it could. Shards of rock pooled at Gretchen’s feet. Lightning crackled between Mina’s hands. Next to him he heard Sam whispering words to the stick-bug.
Then, as one, the sisters attacked.
Edwin didn’t even think of a spell. With the spirit, he just knew what to do. His eyes went black and he stuck his hands out, thinking only the word stop—and the elements stopped in front of him. Halfway between him and the sisters the air was filled with earth, fire, wind, water, and lightning, but it looked as though it had hit an invisible wall. The brownie scurried down his shoulder and hung on his back.
“More, sisters!” Gretchen yelled. “Destroy him!”
The elements attacked his shield from every direction. It took all Edwin’s concentration, but the witches were powerful. A visible crack began to appear between them, and a burst of lightning made its way through, hitting Sam square in the chest. Sam flew backwards and the stick-bug fell to the ground.
“Sam!” Edwin yelled. Gritting his teeth, he tried to close the gap, and he felt a black vein form at his forehead and move down his face.
“Walt, the bug!” Gretchen yelled. “Hurry! Get it before they can command the imp.”
Walt ran forward, weaving between fire and water. Edwin moved a hand in his direction, said, “Back off,” and a burst of heat exploded from his hand, sending Walt flying backwards through the air.
As Walt hit the wall of the cottage and fell to the ground, Edwin’s shield contracted. The witches’ elements had almost reached him, but not without costs; their once beautiful bodies were shriveling, their hair was graying, and wrinkles covered their faces.
The brownie grabbed Walker and brought it to Edwin’s shoulder. With its six prickly feet, the stick-bug crawled towards his neck, where it nuzzled his skin. Edwin began telling the bug to kill the sisters, but before he could finish, Sam tugged at his leg.
“No! Don’t kill them,” Sam croaked.
“I can’t hold them back much longer,” Edwin spat. His black eyes were regaining their color, and nearly spent, the dark power of the spirit was receding from his face.
With noticeable effort Sam stood up, holding a huge, puss-filled hole where the lightning had struck. Sam grabbed Walker from Edwin’s neck and finished giving Walker its orders. Edwin was only able to hear the end of it, but he understood what Sam meant to do.
“Hurry,” Edwin urged.
When Sam stopped talking, pink smoke began to waft up from the stick-bug, smelling pungent and saccharine, communicating with the imp by smell. The imp understood the smoke, dropped the masks, and took flight. The sisters made one last push towards Edwin, screaming, but his shield held.
And then the imp was on them, grabbing at their limbs with its tentacles. One tentacle reached out to the cottage and pulled Walt back to his aunts. A moment later they were all writhing and screaming as the imp dragged their bodies towards the edge of the lake. As soon as their skin hit water the fighting stopped. While the nixies snickered, Walt and the hags turned to stone, looking no different than any of the other statues on the island. Edwin fell to the floor next to Sam, exhausted. The brownie sat on Edwin’s chest and chirped noisily. Neither Edwin nor Sam could move.
Sam’s breathing was shallow. “Edwin… We need to get out of here. The light, the moon—I can heal myself, just need to be above ground.”
With effort Edwin rolled his head to the side and met Sam’s eyes. “We can’t leave. The villagers are waiting for us.”
“The imp. The Gate’s creation spell forbids it from bringing anything in. Walt was never down here. Walt commanded the imp. It was all a trick. But the imp, it can take us out and up to the surface. Past Newick. And you need to absorb something. You’re dying. The brownie. Absorb the brownie. Take Walker. I can’t… Nothing left to command him.”
The brownie nodded solemnly and walked to Edwin’s hand, accepting its fate.
“No, I can’t,” Edwin said. “Never again, no matter what.” He patted the brownie on the head, thanking it for its willingness to sacrifice itself.
“Then hurry, maybe enough time… Walker,” Sam said.
“What about everything here? The other creatures? There might be other Hosts.”
Sam, barely breathing now, didn’t answer.
Edwin’s throat was dry, and the weight of the necklace around his neck was choking him. He gulped, and said, “Walker, come here. Come on.” The stick-bug looked at him quizzically a moment, and then hopped from Sam’s hand onto Edwin’s chest. “That’s a good bug.” Then, as quickly as he could, he asked the stick-bug to have the imp fly them out of here and past Newick. The stick-bug released its pink smoke, and the imp was at their side, scooping them into its tentacle-like hair.
A moment later they were in the air, flying past the rune-covered walls and towards the Gate. The imp dropped Edwin and Sam at the base of the Gate and then flew through the skeletons unscathed, leaving Edwin to open it. When the Gate opened, Edwin saw that the imp had cleared the area of a few villagers, but others were now charging with bloodstone-covered weapons, driving it back. The imp grabbed Edwin and Sam and flew into the air, leaving the Gate to close itself behind them. Looking down, Edwin saw that the villagers and Shades had managed to destroy all the golems and clear nearly all the trees. Even so, without him there to open the Gate they would never get near the cottage or lake.
And then, at the top of the cavern, near what remained of the white-haired bats, they flew into a hidden tunnel and over a hidden staircase, and Edwin realized they were following the same secret path his mother had taken all those years ago. On they flew, up the mine, above the stairs, up and into the Black Keep. The imp’s grip on their bodies was gentle but firm. A short while later they were out of the Black Keep and high in the air, flying above the ledge and the Medgards’ Inn, up the cliff, and away from Chardwick.
Edwin grabbed Sam’s hand, and Sam turned and very softly said, “We just need to rise above Newick. Past there, you can start a new life.”
A new life, Edwin thought. It was something he had always wanted… but he wondered what that could mean now.
Looking down, he watched the wheel-and-spoke shape of Chardwick fade in the distance. A thin trail of smoke rose into the air; the village was almost completely burned now. Above him he caught sight of Newick for the first time, and it wasn’t a village—it was a fortress. Built on a hill, it towered over the hole in the ground. And the cliffs, which had always looked so big from the ledge and Chardwick, now looked insignificant compared to Newick and the valley stretched out before them. The valley seemed to go on forever, but in the far, far distance, he thought he saw some kind of wall circling them in every direction.
The imp reached a field just outside of Newick and dropped them on the ground. Then it left, probably to find new life to carry out its duty of fueling the Gate. As the last of its tentacles left their bodies, Sam grabbed Edwin’s hand. The sun was setting. Without giving it much thought, tendrils of smoke flew from Edwin’s hands and turned the grass around him to dust. All the while Edwin knew he had never felt more lost, or more free.
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CHAPTER 30: THE GATES OF NEWICK
The first thing Edwin noticed was the sweet smell of rotting fruit. Moving slowly, groggily, he felt blades of hay poking against his skin, and when he opened an eye, he saw sunlight peeking around metal bars.
“Woah, slow down,” Sam said soothingly. “We’re all right.”
“We’re in a cage!” Edwin shrieked. He grabbed at his neck and was relieved to find that the necklace and his cloak were both there. The cage rocked slowly back and forth, and he could hear the horses’ hooves slapping against the dirt road. Pieces of fruit clung to the metal bars, and a wood plank meant to protect the drivers separated them from the front.
“We’re being rescued,” Sam explained. “You collapsed in that field, and I carried you as far as I could. It was three days before I found anyone.”
“I was out for three days?” Edwin asked. Squinting against the light, he noticed that Sam’s black hair and clothes looked even dirtier than before.
“Yeah. I thought I might have to leave you somewhere and go out on my own, only I was worried you wouldn’t be there when I got back, and I couldn’t find any shelter. There was only grass out there, not even a tree.”
“How’d we end up here?”
“It was the next day, but I was still tired, so I laid down to rest,” Sam said. “A blacksmith and his wife woke me up. When I told them you were hurt they went to get their horse and cart.”
“But it’s a cage,” Edwin repeated.
“It’s all they had. The blacksmith said he made it to take prisoners to Newick. They’re taking us to their home now. Don’t worry, they don’t know who we are and they only seem to want to help us.”
Edwin sat up against the bars and held his knees. He felt that the spirit shared his concern—he had never released it—but it seemed content where it was.
Keeping his voice low, Edwin looked up from his knees, and said, “Sam, what happened back there in the mines?”
Worried they might overhear, Sam looked uneasily at the wood plank separating them from the drivers, and scooted in closer to Edwin. “What do you mean?”
“Everything! You, Walt, your aunts, this necklace, the imp, Walker, my mother, the Gate, the Host’s Tomb, the cottage, the dead bodies, the nixies and statues. Why did you help me?”
Sam took Edwin’s hand and rubbed it soothingly. “I always wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I was worried you might just be interested in magic and power, like the Hosts. Walt and my aunts tried to make the Hosts sound powerful and noble, but I don’t believe that for a second. No one who thrives on the death of others can be good. And Walt and I are connected—well, were connected—and if I had helped you he would have known.”
“Connected how?” Edwin asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from all the horrible things he had done.
“My aunts—they weren’t really my aunts. They created us, and they chose the Morriseys because of their ties to the Lucent, but they really only needed Walt. Walt and I are opposites, but we need each other. It was all part of their spell. They couldn’t hurt me without hurting Walt, and Walt promised them he’d look after me and keep me out of trouble, and I told them that if they tried to lock me away I’d kill myself.”
“I thought Walt was my friend,” Edwin said, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “Why’d he lie? What did the witches need him for?”
“For you,” Sam said plainly. “It was always about you. They wanted you to get them past the Gate to the Host’s Tomb, but it had to be your idea. They were afraid that if they came to you themselves you would see them for what they were, and their one chance would be lost. And so they created Walt as someone you could trust and someone who could look after you. You were being raised by Nemain’s sister, and our parents were the Morriseys. So you see, we were supposed to grow up together, but then Rona Goodfellow died and you went to live with the Medgards.”
“The hags did all this for a necklace?” Edwin asked, lifting the necklace from his chest to his eye. It no longer held the luster he had seen in the cottage before he picked it up. “It doesn’t look like much, not anymore. It looks… dead. What do you think it is?”
A troubled look crossed Sam’s usually expressionless face. “I’m not sure. I have a guess, but it’s only a guess…. My aunts called it the Host’s Tomb. They fed on magic, you see. They have little of their own, only their elements, and they needed ingredients for their spells. And they’re impossibly old, and they’ve stayed alive all this time by creating candles that steal youth. The candles are made from mahrs.”
“But if all they wanted was my mahr, why all the trouble for this necklace?” Edwin asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to explain. I think all the creatures and everything the Hosts were trying to protect are in that necklace. I think you and your mother came from that necklace. It’s like a sanctuary of sorts. All the magic, all the creatures, and even some of the Hosts are locked away in that necklace. Did you see all those statues by the lake? The Gate was never supposed to last this long—it was only supposed to protect the necklace until the threat passed. Then, I suspect a Host like your mother was supposed to release them all.”
“So as the Gate aged things got released over time?”
“Exactly,” Sam said. “Maybe that’s why the Hosts put the necklace on an island surrounded by nixies. While nixies are another barrier to thieves, they also keep creatures in. Nothing can leave that island if the nixies turn them to stone.”
“I thought only a mahr could get past the Gate.”
Sam thought a moment. “Then maybe they’re there to keep things from causing trouble, or from dying in the tunnels.”
Edwin pulled his knees close enough to his chest to bang his head against them. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled. “If the necklace is the Host’s Tomb, why did my mother leave the protection of the Gate? Why didn’t she take it with her? Why’d she only bring that stupid book? Why did she leave the Gate at all?”
“I don’t know,” Sam replied.
Edwin sighed, but before he let himself get lost in his own thoughts, he asked, “What happened to the brownie?”
“She held onto your cloak all the way up to Newick, but as soon as we were safe she flew away. I haven’t seen her since.”
Rocking back and forth, Edwin didn’t say anything a while. When he looked at Sam again, he said, “What about Walker and the imp? I don’t even know if I want to know. It’s not over, I can feel it.”
“Walker’s right here,” Sam said. “I’d guess the imp went back to the Gate. It wouldn’t stay after it dropped us off. Trust me, I tried. It would have been a lot easier to have it carry you instead of me.”
“Is that normal? For the imp to ignore you?”
Sam shrugged. “Walker was always Walt’s. Walt hated it, and all I know is that the imp’s duties to Walker come second to its duties to the Gate. Walt panicked when you got attacked by the villagers that first time in the mine, and at first the imp wouldn’t obey Walker’s commands, not even after you got hit by the pickaxe and almost died.”
Edwin shook the thought out of his head. “When can we leave here? I want to get as far away from Chardwick as I can.”
Sam swallowed and looked away. “Erm… That’s going to be a problem for two reasons…. You see, I need your help…”
Edwin’s body tensed. “You need me for something? You want to use me, like Walt and your aunts.”
Sam’s eyes watered. “It’s not what you think. I’d never hurt you, but it’s like I said, Walt and I are connected.”
Edwin worried he was going to be sick. “What does that have to do with me?” he asked.
“You know what it’s like to always have someone else in your head, to not be in control of your own mind, but you can help me. You’re a Host, you can break my connection with Walt.”
“I don’t know how to do anything like that,” Edwin said. “Herald might know—he’s this book my mom left for me—but he’
s back in Chardwick. I wasn’t able to take him with me.”
“We could go back and get it. Or you can learn! We’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll help however I can, but—”
“That’s all I ask!” Sam interrupted.
Uncomfortably, Edwin nodded. “You said there were two reasons?”
“It’s something the blacksmith told me. He said there’s a barrier, a magical barrier, that prevents anyone from leaving—”
“Magic? Here?” Edwin asked.
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I think it might have something to do with Spice, but I didn’t want the blacksmith thinking I was too interested.”
Edwin shook his head, and, changing the subject, said, “Maybe we should get out of this cage. I feel fine now.”
“Be patient, let the blacksmith take us to his town. There’s nothing else out here.”
Edwin peered through the metal bars and knew Sam was right. Edwin saw a wall of fog in the distance, but an endless field of yellow grass separated them, and Newick was nowhere to be seen. “You’re sure we can trust them?”
Sam nodded. “I think so.”
“I hope you’re right. At least they can’t be worse than your aunts,” Edwin said. Leaning against the metal bars, he tried to relax his shoulders. He felt tense and on edge, but also tired and drained.
Sam still seemed bothered by something, and after a long minute, said, “Edwin, there’s another thing. My aunts didn’t work alone. There was someone else; my aunts called him their Master. Edwin, it was Carrion.”
“I heard you two talking once. You said you thought it would be better if I was dead.”
“I had to convince Carrion that Walt was the bad twin, not me. I don’t know why he wants the Tomb; he’s not like my aunts—he’s no halfling. But whatever it is, it can’t be good. Master Carrion scares me, Edwin. You don’t know him like I do. He’s ruthless. Even my aunts were scared of him.”
Edwin closed his eyes and bit his tongue until he tasted blood. It helped him stay calm. “So there will be someone else looking for us, and there’s a barrier keeping us from leaving. Great.”
The Dark Passenger (Book 1) Page 28