by Bailey Dark
“He was nearly assassinated while you were busy bedding Elluine,” she says.
Willem chuckles sarcastically. “I trust him to watch his own back. Is it my loyalty you question or his abilities? Stop treating him like a child who needs to be coddled. He’s Death, a battle-hardened warrior with more blood on his hands than either of us. He doesn’t need protecting from anyone except you.”
Briar tries to lunge at him, but I force her against my chest.
“How many times have you tried to convince Kane not to come here?” she asks. “How many times have you argued against him about what path we should take? I’ve lost track of the times you’ve flown off or hid when we were faced with danger. I saved your life in Yolnheim, remember? I guess you conveniently forgot that too. For someone who is practically immortal, you seem awfully scared, Willem.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” the Reaper replies. “And you’ve saved my life once where I’ve contributed to saving yours dozens of times! You never should have left home, Briar. You’ve been nothing but a problem since you’ve came to the underworld. You’ll only get us all killed.”
“Go fall into a rift, Willem!” Her body bucks as she speaks, spit hurling at his feet.
Willem is my second in command. I can’t afford to lose him over whatever misunderstanding is between them. Briar’s rage takes shape. Her hands begin to emit a faint glow that grows stronger, pulsing brighter with her anger. I hold them up in front of her eyes and she jumps back. Briar presses herself against the wall, staring down at her fingers like they belong to someone else.
Blue swirls in her gaze as the light sears my eyes.
“Yes! Finally,” I grumble as I pull her towards the doors of the tomb.
Briar stumbles a little as she tries to keep up. I grab her wrists and force her hands against the runes. A loud clang follows the sound of spinning cogs until the door opens with a hiss. Dust kicks up from the ground. Musty air wafts in our faces as the tomb allows us entrance. Briar looks up at me in bewilderment.
“I...how did I do that?” she asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “The dreams, the visions, the feelings...it’s...it’s all because of this, isn’t it? It’s because of my blood? Lux’s blood.”
Chapter 15
Briar
“Yeah!” Kane lets out a victorious whoop as I stand in the next chamber of the tomb feeling like my world is coming apart at the seams.
He claps his hands a few times before rubbing them together like he can hardly wait to get started. The glow disappears as though it was never there, but I know it was. I saw it as clearly as I saw it in my dreams. I was the one who killed the Nephilim. I’ve been carrying this strength inside of me all along.
I don’t know if it’s the power that still thrums lightly inside of me like a faint heartbeat or the sheer magnitude of my anger that gave me the courage to stand up to Willem. I’m almost thankful for the light, for it possibly stopped the two of us from exposing one another.
Kane slowly makes his way along the walls, smiling to himself as his dark eyes dart between one symbol to the next. I’ve never seen him so excited. Large columns line a fire-lit path. The flame is as blue as the midnight sea we sailed across to get here. Its light casts a strange canary yellow glow upon the black marble. The tomb smells of Deadly Nightshade and crisp apples. My boots click upon the floors as I walk through the cavernous chamber. I catch movement out the corner of my eye and see Willem. He shakes his head at me as if to say I am the cause of some great cataclysmic event that will destroy the world.
Arms slip around my waist and I lean back against Kane. His heartbeat soothes me like nothing else and I can almost imagine we’re back at the castle.
“You did it,” he breathes against my neck. “Soon we can harness your power. Together, we can teach you how to control it so you don’t harm yourself or others. Who knows just how strong you are, Briar.”
“I…” the words are stolen from my lips.
My head hurts again. I feel faint, but Kane’s arms keep me steady. Another vision flashes behind my eyes.
So much death. He lays beside me and tells me tales of his conquests. They’re meaningless acts of violence, red slashes through our history that were no more than fables to me a moment ago. Destruction will come on in the silence of the night, carried by the black wings that cradle me gently. The mortals are not safe...no one is...not even I.
The door to the tomb slams shut. A loud, ominous echo reverberates through the chamber and the phantom flames flicker. Kane releases me and tries to read the inscription on the back, but it’s nothing more than a riddle. We’re trapped. Nowhere to retreat. We must go forward. The pain subsides, but I wait to open my eyes again. With the return of my betrothed’s hand, I am able to release the clutching of my eyelids.
With Kane by my side and his shadows to keep me comfort, we move further toward the other side of this long room. It only feels natural to whisper in a place this dark.
“When Drogaem died, the Inati created this tomb. They were dark Nephilim, a brotherhood of priests that served Death,” Kane explains. I wonder to myself whether this knowledge is something he knew before, or if he read it in the runes along the walls. “They brought Drogaem’s fifty concubines and one hundred wives.”
I glance up at him. “What happened to them?”
Kane nods forward. “Drogaem’s head wife, Qenta, was a powerful necromancer. While the Inati fought those who tried to claim the crown before the tomb was shut, she poured her magic into the island. We must be cautious.”
“Are the Inati still alive?” I ask, not liking the thought of a dark brotherhood of soul-leeching creatures.
Kane shakes his head just as we come upon a staircase. Endless darkness awaits at the bottom, or so I think. Kane creeps down first and I walk between him and Willem. His voice is quiet, like his shadows are whispering to me even as his lips stay pressed into a firm line. I’ve felt this before.
“The Inati were executed not long before I ascended to the throne. They were feral beings determined to kill anything that defied their master. For the safety of the gods and those under our protection, they had to be put to rest.”
I don’t think Willem would be pleased to hear this tale.
We hit the landing at the base of the stairs. Torches line the walls with the same fire as before. My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness that still remains. Between evenly placed notches in the wall are women. But not women that resemble the living. It’s clear they’ve been dead for quite some time, but somehow preserved with care. Each woman looks dry, almost hollow. Swatches of silk in a dark hue of jade wrap around their bodies, draping like exotic gowns and covering everything but their eyes and parts of their faces where the silk has torn.
Kane grabs my hand and tugs me along. We follow the torches and the smell of Nightshade grows stronger. It’s bitter and earthy, but not entirely unpleasant. I notice items have been set inside each of notches beside the mummified women, soapstone boxes and jars made of alabaster. I feel my eyes twitch before the symbols on the objects turn to words.
The headache grows stronger, but I attempt to read the inscriptions.
“A spell,” I whisper.
Kane peers at me from over his shoulder and drops my hand. I nod toward the spells. “This is what Qenta used her power for, isn’t it? To keep the women from turning to dust over the centuries.”
“And to set up some pretty difficult obstacles and traps for anyone who discovered the tomb. How did you know that?” he replies just as quietly.
I shake my head, a bit of fear pushing into my chest. “I-I don’t know. I could suddenly read the symbols. They’re blurry, but I can understand them for the most part. Is that bad, Kane?”
“Briar...that language is ancient. Even I can barely read it. It’s the language of the oldest magic in existence, something usually only the gods can understand.” Kane seems troubled, but he turns back and continues with me in tow.
I can�
��t help but stare at the women as we pass. Suddenly, a loud crash reverberates through the hall. I turn around and Willem hurries to pick up a broken jar.
“What happened?” Kane demands.
With pieces of broken glass, he looks up bewildered. “My wings knocked it ove-”
A hand shot out at the Reaper. Willem jumps back and runs right into one of the mummies. I feel boney, gnarled fingers biting into my arm. Blind, milky white eyes open with a scream that quite literally wakes the dead. I kick out and knock the mummy back, detaching the arm from its torso. The body stumbles back. I pry the fingers from my arm and use it to bash another mummy over the head. Kane roars and tears through three in his haste to save me.
I drop the arm and reach for my dagger as I duck an oncoming attack. Willem shoves one of the mummies and she falls into me, pinning me against the wall, and keeping my hand from reaching the blade. Her teeth snap beside my head as I struggle against her. Putrid breath stings my eyes and causes my nose to scrunch. I lift my leg and throw myself back.
The mummy stumbles. More hands swipe at me, but I evade them with ease. I feel the familiar weight of my blade against my palm and bury the tip into the chest of a mummy. She cries out, flashing between the beautiful woman she once was and the hideous monster she became. I feel sorry for them and hope this death brings her peace.
Kane and I are back to back as the dead surround us. At least a dozen mummies separate us from Willem.
“What do we do?” I ask.
I feel the faint brush of Kane’s fingertips against my hand, a comforting touch in the midst of it all. “We have to fight. It’s the only way.”
His shadows push the dead back, giving us space to maneuver. I grit my teeth and lash out at four all at once. They flinch away from the dagger and I use their fear to my advantage. Though the dead are not stronger than the demons we fought in the forests, they seem immune to simple attacks. Kane’s foot crushes one of the boxes and a mummy screams.
Realization dawns.
“Kane!” I shout above the sounds of the fight. “It’s the artifacts! Break them and you break the spell keeping them alive. Stab the heart and they die.”
He looks at me for a moment and then nods his head, trusting my judgement.
Willem, however, laughs even as he faces off with six of the mummified women. “You mean to tell me these doodads and whatchamacallits are spelled to keep these damn things alive? Why should we do as you say? It might make things worse.”
“Just do it!” Kane demands.
We fall into rhythm, breaking the objects and slashing through the dead. Willem circles around us, causing distractions as we work. Slowly, so slowly, the numbers begin to lessen. I wipe the sweat from my face as Kane drives his shadow blade through a mummy. We fall back, feigning a retreat to get the mummies to cluster. Willem spreads his wings from behind the...horde? Gaggle? Flock of mummies?
Kane uses his shadows to trap them from the front. I duck, dodge, and slide through the cluster, finishing off the spell and stabbing the wives and concubines in the heart. When the last body falls, I look down at a large cut in my hand. Kane runs towards me, stepping over the corpses at our feet and tears the sleeve of my tunic.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
When he sees the blood, he picks me up and carries me to the stairs.
I shake my head, trying to pull free. “I’m fine. It’s just a cut.”
“Let me see,” Kane barks.
I smile to myself. I know he isn’t really angry, just concerned. It fills me with happiness. He flinches when he sees my palm, gently prodding around the wound to check its depth. Kane uses the torn sleeve to stop the bleeding, tying it off in a way that’s comfortable, but won’t cause any more damage. “What happened?”
“One of the broken bones. I was knocked to the ground during the fight and cut my hand open.” My explanation eases the tension in his face. There’s so much intensity, so much raw energy in his gaze that I feel myself blush. “Thank you, Kane.”
He scoffs. “For what? You’re the reason we weren’t overcome by those things.”
I point around at the bodies. “But you and Willem could have left me. You could have ran for the end of the hall and abandoned me, used me as bait while you got closer to the crown, but you didn’t.”
His eyes soften. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I know you’ve been hurt along this journey, but I won’t give up on you.”
I hear the crunch of Willem’s boots as he makes his way towards us. “Still alive, Mortal? I’m surprised your little plan worked. But if we run into something unleashed by those things getting broken, I’m blaming you.”
Willem blames me for everything anyway. Why should this be any different?
Instead of meeting his anger with more fear or anger, I simply reply with kindness. Sort of. “Your welcome, Reaper. Guess I saved your life again.”
He kicks at one of the bodies, lifting an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”
Kane stands between us and helps me up. We continue down the hall until we come upon another door. Behind us, I hear the entrance above the stairs close. Trapping us once again. Kane and I observe the markings on the door, but I can’t understand them. It’s all jumbled up like some sort of puzzle. A riddle. Nothing too intricate or anything like that. Just a question without an answer, but the question itself is unfinished.
Chapter 16
Kane
The smell of Briar’s blood mingles with the pungent scent of decaying flesh, Nightshade, apple, and damp stone. It’s a smell I haven’t encountered before, and even living amongst the dead and unfortunate, it turns my stomach. I look down at the drops of her essence on my hand and trail my tongue across them in one swipe. Everything that makes Briar who she is, is in her blood and I can taste her power.
“We need to take a minute to look around. There might be clues around here.” Willem sifts through the bones, tattered fabric, and broken pieces of the artifacts.
Briar looks up at the ceiling and frowns. “Do you see them?”
“See what?” I ask, walking to her side and looking up.
“The markings. There are some on the ceiling. Nothing that can help us open the door, but I think they tell a story,” she answers. “Qenta. She’s the one who did all of this, but she isn’t the one who created the doors. These inscriptions…”
I nod. “They’re transcripts, actually. A list of things she did to protect Drogaem’s resting place.”
“Exactly,” Briar answers. “Their magic signature is different than what I felt on the door. And they never mention the doors at all. It’s so strange they would put the transcripts to their spells in the same place they’re trying to protect.”
“I’m impressed.” My praise causes Briar to look away with a charming blush upon her cheeks. I follow her closer to the door. “What do you see? What’s different between this door and the last one? What are their similarities?”
She chews her lip and begins to inspect the runes. “The dark feeling...the foreboding is getting stronger. I can barely think it’s so loud.”
I shake my head, pointing ahead. “Don’t try to read the runes yet. Look at the appearance of the door.”
Briar nods and looks at the cracks and signs of age.
While the first door was carved out of stone, this one is bone. I feel the life that once flourished within the creature who made the sacrifice. It throbs beneath my palm, churning as though the soul was still trapped inside, but it isn’t. There is nothing but death here beyond the three of us. A cold draft flows across my feet.
I kneel down to feel the air. As a creature of darkness and shadow, of death and the afterlife, it takes a lot to make me shiver, and yet I do. The foreboding feeling within me is stagnant and I hope it doesn’t transfer to her, she is feeling enough in these auspicious moments. Briar follows my lead, eager to learn what other secrets are hidden away in the tomb. She gasps when the air touches her fingers and looks up at
me. We begin to trace the runes with our hands, feeling the magic within them, trying to decipher their meaning.
“Lilies?” I ask.
Briar nods.
She traces the symbol with the tip of her finger. “They seem feminine, don’t they?”
I narrow my eyes looking up. “And if the runes on the ceiling are in Qenta’s, these were put here by someone as strong as her if not more powerful.”
The etchings are clean lines, not rough markings stabbed into the center. These door runes and the ones before show signs of care.
Briar shivers under her own realizations. “It’s not really a defense, is it? It's like the doors are keeping something in instead of keeping us out.”
Willem shakes his head. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here. As soon as we started this journey, something has been warning us away from this place.”
I glare up at Willem, displeased with his lack of courage. “You and I have been tracking the crown for years, searching through every piece of lore we could find in hopes of getting Archech. We’re in this together, Willem.”
He points all around him. “That was before I started seeing signs that someone doesn’t want us here.”
“Lilies grown beneath the first moon of…” Briar trails off, brow furrowed in concentration. I place my hand over hers, feeling the way the runes seem to reach out to her. I nod encouragingly, allowing her to steady herself in the shadows of my power. She breathes deeply through her nose and continues. “Beneath the first full moon of winter. A sliver of Usulyni from...water? No. That’s not right.”
I can feel her frustration. “Slowly, Briar. Breathe. Come on. You can do it. Ethereal pool. What about the lilies and the blade?”
She sounds hopeful. “I-it’s a ritual. It reads like instructions to something.”