by S. M. Boyce
a Novel by S.M. Boyce
Praise for Lichgates
“This would make a great movie. A great TV show. Great everything. I mean, Boyce sells it at the concept, but she doesn't stop there. She delivers.”
—REBECCA HAMILTON, author of The Forever Girl series
“Boyce's storytelling is so rich and deftly executed that I found myself bouncing between pure amazement, unadulterated enjoyment, and absolute, perverse envy. She is that good.”
—TOM WINSHIP, author of the Vaempires: Revolution series
"The writing is flawless. The kingdoms and surrounding landscapes breathtaking. The Grimoire is a piece of imaginative genius that bedazzles from the moment Kara falls into the land of Ourea."
—NIKKI JEFFORD, author of the Spellbound Trilogy
Lichgates
(The Grimoire Trilogy #1)
The Grimoire turns its own pages and can answer any question asked of it...and Kara Magari is its next target.
Kara has no idea what she's getting herself into when she stumbles across the old book while hiking along a hidden trail. Once she opens it, she's thrown into Ourea: a beautiful world full of terrifying beings that all want the Grimoire's secrets. Everyone in this new world is trying to find her, but most just want to control the new-found power the Grimoire bestows upon her.
Braeden Drakonin grew up in Ourea, and all he’s ever known in life is lying. The Grimoire is his one chance at redemption, and it lands in his lap when Kara Magari comes into his life. He has one question to ask the book—one question that can fix everything in his broken world—and he’s not letting Kara out of his sight until he gets an answer.
Kara cannot escape her new life in Ourea. There’s no going back now.
Table of Contents
Foreword from the Author
Chapter 1: The Human
Chapter 2: The Yakona
Chapter 3: The Grimoire
Chapter 4: Caged
Chapter 5: The Stele
Chapter 6: Hordes
Chapter 7: Home
Chapter 8: The Kingdom of Hillside
Chapter 9: Questions
Chapter 10: Council
Chapter 11: Blood
Chapter 12: Secrets
Chapter 13: The Waterfall
Chapter 14: The Drenowith
Chapter 15: Ambush
Chapter 16: Aftermath
Chapter 17: Flight
Chapter 18: Truth
Chapter 19: The Kingdom of Kirelm
Chapter 20: Lessons
Chapter 21: Reflections
Chapter 22: The Kingdom of Losse
Chapter 23: Training
Chapter 24: Escape
Chapter 25: Purpose
Chapter 26: Survival
Chapter 27: The Amber Temple
Chapter 28: Discovery
Chapter 29: Tensions
Chapter 30: The Grimoires
Epilogue: The Isen
Additional Features
A Note to Readers
About the Author
Book Blurb
Copyright
Dedication
Praise for Lichgates
Foreword
Oh look, another foreword. Boring, right? Wrong. Mine has FREE STUFF.
This edition of Lichgates is a formal re-release under the Immoral Ink Publishing label. It has a shiny new cover and re-edited content that should make for a more enjoyable read. But the best part is you now have access to deleted chapters. For free.
Head over to The Grimoire Online (TheGrimoireBooks.com). You’ll find three deleted chapters from Lichgates: a snippet of Kara’s life from before she found the Grimoire; the deleted sparring match Braeden has with Gavin when he first returns to Hillside; and the first day of Kara’s training in Losse. These were fun scenes I loved writing, but they just didn’t quite fit in the final edition.
Now if you’ve actually read this far, I’m immensely proud of you. Seriously, how many people read forwards? Few. And you’re one of them. Pat on the back.
Enjoy the deleted scenes, the edited content, and Lichgates’ spiffy new cover. If you ever want to say hello, tweet me (thesmboyce) or send me an email via my contact page (smboyce.com/contact-boyce). And, as always, stay awesome.
—S. M. Boyce
The Human
Kara Magari pushed her way down an unkempt trail in the Rocky Mountains, its trees hunching and swaying overhead as she crunched her way along the rotting foliage that served as a carpet. The canopy grew steadily thicker and swallowed the setting sunlight, casting a murky green glow over her pale, freckled skin as she hiked. Her hiker’s build made her look a year or two younger than she really was—a curse at twenty—but she knew she’d be grateful for it someday.
She ran a hand through her blond hair as she examined the path. This was a new trail, one she found on the way back to her car after an early dinner at the visitor center. She bit her lip and scanned the empty forest. Even though there hadn’t been any empty beer cans or syringes littering the way, solo hiking on an unfamiliar trail was never safe. It would be dark in just a few hours.
She patted the side pocket of her backpack, feeling for the edges of her stun gun, and smirked. She would be fine.
Since her dad had first strapped her to his back twenty years ago and trudged down the East Inlet to Adams Falls, she’d spent every summer of her life vacationing in the Rockies. Her family had hiked almost every trail, but this one was not on her worn and slightly-ripped map. She pushed aside another dangling branch and continued along.
Two minutes later, the trail ended at a simple gazebo built from unpainted wood. Low-hanging branches hid half of its paneled roof, and a tree trunk on either side blocked the way around. Waist-high wooden railings surrounded most of the structure, but left a break in the fencing just wide enough to walk through. A path stretched from this opening across the gazebo to the other side, where yet another gap in the rails would let her through to the blinding daylight. Benches lined the miniature lane through the shelter.
The landscape on the other side was blurred and bright: a stark contrast to the heavy green glow of the forest, where only freckled rays of sunlight could break through the leaves. She narrowed her eyes as she got closer to the gazebo, but it was impossible to distinguish anything through the sun’s sharp glare.
A plank of wood framed with odd carvings had been nailed to the space above the entrance, and she squinted in an effort to read the dull cuts and make out the word:
Lichgate.
She shrugged and stepped up onto the wooden aisle. As soon as she set foot inside, her stomach lurched. Her cheeks flushed, and she covered her mouth to suppress bile.
A blue light flared out of the corner of her eye. It had come from the edge of the lichgate, but as she examined the space by her head, she couldn’t find anything reflective or even blue. She took a deep breath before tossing her pack on one bench and lounging on the other until her stomach settled. Maybe it was the chicken salad she’d eaten at the visitor center.
Kara closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustling through the leaves, relishing the cool air as it coursed along her neck. She breathed deeply again, and her gut relaxed.
Now that she was sitting in the gazebo, she could see the view previously blocked by the low-hanging branches. The structure hugged the edge of a cliff and overlooked a valley surrounded on all sides by a mountain range. A river flowed into a broad lake about a half mile into the distance. This wasn’t Lone Pine Lake, since there wasn’t a waterfall nearby. She craned her neck and stood, leaning against the frame for a better view. It didn’t look like Bluebird Lake, or Mills Lake, either. The wind picked up and carried the stale musk of dried leaves and grass.
Where am I?
She pulle
d her compass from her bag and checked it before glancing up at a pack of clouds that partially hid the sun. The trail hadn’t turned south, and she knew her fair share of the Montana trails by heart. This had to be a new valley, one she’d somehow never explored. Her mom would’ve loved this!
Kara sighed. Her hand reached to the locket around her neck, but she stopped. No. Hikes were for letting go, not remembering.
She walked out of the gazebo. Again, there was a kick in her gut and a flash of blue light. Her stomach tightened, and she leaned against a tree for support. Bark caught in her fingernails.
No more chicken salad!
A strong breeze scaled the cliff and ruffled her hair. It was more of a rocky hill than a cliff, really, and the mossy slope wasn’t all that steep. It leveled out about forty feet down after a curvy trail.
She pulled out her phone to check the time. Another minute ticked forward, but she had about an hour before her dad sent out any rescue parties. She grinned and looked back at her pack, but left it. This wouldn’t take long, and she didn’t want the extra weight.
Kara used the tree as leverage to hop onto the sturdy path below. Step by step, she inched down the trail. Occasionally, she needed to wedge her tennis shoe into a cranny to slide down to the next section, but other than that, she could take it slow and steady.
After only a few minutes, she reached the valley and squinted back up to where the gazebo’s roof peeked through the trees. Not bad. With her finger in the air, she traced the way she’d taken, starting at the lichgate and going over each step in her head. Her finger hovered and came to a stop, though, when she examined the base of the hill.
Built into the rock was a marble door, shrouded with overhanging roots and dangling moss that clung to its frame like bangs. The gray stone was the exact color of the cliff rock, so she would have missed it completely if she hadn’t been looking closely.
She brushed her hand along the door’s smooth stone. It was simple, like the lichgate, and had a round stone knob. A small emblem carved into the rock at eye level looked like a four-leaf clover made of crescent moons.
Her fingers itched on the handle.
C’mon, Kara. Think. There’s a random door in the mountain and you’re going to open it? Really?
The ground trembled with a sudden force that knocked her against the cliff. The wind stopped, dissolving with a hiss into the hot summer sky. She scanned the valley. Several somethings cracked in the ground under her feet.
A sinkhole broke into the turf about fifteen feet away, swallowing the grass and dirt. A man’s voice roared through the fissure and echoed across the lake. When his cry died on the still air, there was silence.
Kara remembered to breathe, and sudden relief washed through her chest as she did. She shifted her weight to leave and even made it a few feet up the path, but she paused as a chorus of men shouted through the hole in a language she couldn’t understand. Smoke pitched from the small crater.
Thunder rumbled overhead. A dark cloud churned in the sky, and her heart fell into her stomach; there hadn’t even been a single fluffy cloud up there ten minutes ago. She glanced to the door and then back up the trail, hesitating, but her decision was soon made for her.
A blinding bolt of moss-colored lightning flashed, striking something in the sinkhole. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Heat coursed through her calves, and she caught her breath. Her ears rang.
Wait. That lightning was definitely green.
The cliff trembled as a deafening boom shattered the air. Heavy drops of rain pelted her skin from nowhere and clung to her hair. Another rumble coursed along the far edge of the valley. Kara needed shelter, and the last place she would go in a lightning storm was up a hill.
She turned back and twisted the door’s handle, sighing with relief as it opened—unlocked— and swung inward. Still, as wet as it was outside and as much as she wanted a safe place to wait out the rain, she lingered on the threshold to examine the room.
Mud covered everything from the floor to the ceiling, and since there weren’t any supports to hold the roof, she couldn’t figure out how the ten-by-ten dirt shelter hadn’t caved in yet. The air within was heavy, moist with the rot of dead leaves, and her only guiding light streamed in from behind her. Roots dangled from the ceiling like stalactites reaching for the floor. The wind picked up, howling as it pelted rain against her back.
She tested the ground with her sneaker. The dirt floor supported her weight, so she tip-toed into the room and left the door open. Rain fell in lingering drops on the threshold before disappearing into the growing pools of mud. She stuck her hands in her pockets and watched the raging storm outside.
A flash of dark brown blurred past her.
She jumped. A tan flicker snaked along the roof, and clumps of soil fell in sheets. She glared at the ceiling, holding her breath as the settling dust rained onto her shoes.
It had almost looked like a root moving, but—no, that was crazy.
Another streak of motion raced down the opposite wall. It passed through a shaft of light, and Kara saw its pointed, wooden tip. Tiny veins sprouted from it like hairs, digging into the dirt so that it could travel.
It was a root moving.
A second spiny vine shot up from the floor and wrapped around her leg. It pulled. She tripped, falling into the first root as it snaked along the far wall. Dirt poured over her head, blinding her. She coughed on the scent of decaying bark. The root tugged again and yanked her onto her hands and knees. It dragged her toward the center of the room. She reached for the knife strapped to her free ankle, the one her mom had—
No. She couldn’t think of Mom. Not now.
A third root wrapped around her waist. Another grabbed her hand as she reached for the blade. The roots flipped her onto her back. With a bang, the door snapped shut. Her stomach churned. The floor disappeared. She fell, and the roots let go.
Kara tumbled through the darkness. Whenever she tried to scream, dirt filled her mouth and nose. She eventually just held her breath, closed her eyes, and waited to be crushed in the landing.
Two roots broke her fall and bent with her, slowing her momentum but bruising her ribs in the process. Her hands slid off the grubs and mud as she grappled for something to stop her fall. Her cheeks flushed, and her stomach floated into her throat, heaving and twisting with her body.
She took a deep breath and thudded against something solid. She covered her head with her arms. Light poured around her as she held her position, waiting to fall deeper into whatever she’d gotten herself into this time. Her shoulder throbbed from the landing. Ringing hummed in her ear, but this was a new, silent place. She peeked through two fingers.
Dirt clung to her now-ripped jeans, and thick, red smudges covered the exposed skin on her arms. Her shoes were caked in mud. Blood seeped through a rip in her sleeve, and a purple bruise had already begun to spread over her kneecap. She rubbed her arms and shins to feel for breaks, but nothing stung. That was good, but her phone was gone and her pack was still in the gazebo.
She leaned against the something solid that had broken her fall, which turned out to be a stone desk. Blood from her arm had smudged the side where she landed, its red streak a vivid contrast to the desk’s white polish. A matching stone chair was set slightly aside, as if whoever had last sat in it had only just left.
Her hair was a mess of tangles and soil, and the streaks of mud on her cheeks smelled like a combination of carrots and crusty leaves. She brushed away as much of it as she could, rubbing the last of the dirt out of her eyes and wiping her face with the least-filthy bit of her shirt. The edges of her vision were blurry, but the room slowly came into focus.
Stone shelves canvassed every wall from the floor to the twelve-foot ceiling. Every inch of every shelf was covered in books, each bound in colorful leather and labeled with gold symbols she couldn’t read. There were no doors in the walls of bookshelves, and the only light came from a pane of glass in the roof that leaked crimson sunligh
t into what could only be a submerged library.
She eyed the skylight before pulling herself onto the desk and reaching for the window, but it was at least six feet away. Without any rope, she would never be able to escape through it.
I’m trapped.
Kara sat on the desk and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her jeans. Her breaths became more and more shallow as adrenaline spiked in unison with her pulse. The ringing became a scream in her ear.