The Witch; Stronghold; Underworld

by Ky Tyrand

  “Let him?” Ki’ara could no longer keep a straight face.

  Je’nna sat up, looking for her pistols. Though she couldn’t see a thing through the dazzling array of colors, the girl could sense her gear in the corner of the room. “You told him to slime me, didn’t you?”

  “No. I only asked him how long you would be asleep.” Ki’ara shrugged. “Guess he figured you were about done.”

  “Guess so,” muttered Je’nna as she used her Mu’turi sleeve to wipe saliva from her face. “What’s with all the colors? Did a rainbow throw up on me as well?”

  The wolf obeyed when Ki’ara told him to let Je’nna be. “Some kind of super-healing thing that the wolves do. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been dipped in drool.”

  Ki’ara reached a hand out to help her up, but Je’nna brushed it aside and hopped to her feet. She shook her head and pressed an open fist to the side of her face, while poking at her ribs with the other. A simple nod let the Princess know that Je’nna had completely recovered.

  Petch appeared beside her, and Je’nna’s eyes moved to his, offering a look that caught Ki’ara completely by surprise.

  Did she almost smile at Petch?

  Without saying another word, Je’nna turned and headed straight for her guns and gadgets, which were still rolled in a sheet in the corner of the room. She opened it up and went to work sorting her equipment and placing the many items on her body. It took her no time at all to get organized, at which point she went to the cabinets to gather more gear, beginning with a new Battle Harness.

  Ki’ara thanked the wolves, said goodbye to each of them, and then pressed her hand to the console. The chamber lit up and the animals and swirling colors vanished.

  “Whoa,” said Petch. “This place is really cool.”

  “Do you see anything you want to bring with us?” Ki’ara asked him.

  The boy frowned. “I don’t even know what any of this stuff is,” he admitted. “Let alone how to use it.”

  “Still,” said Ki’ara, “You should take something. A weapon.”

  Petch’s attention was drawn to the sloping console Ki’ara had just activated. “What do you think this is?” he asked, checking out a green hologram that rotated above the buttons and gizmos.

  Ki’ara recognized the image. It had been there since the first time she discovered this place. With arms, legs, head and torso, it was shaped like a person but with robotic looking framework. “Some kind of exoskeleton suit, I think.”

  “Neat,” said the boy, while expelling a breath. “What do you think?”

  Ki’ara shrugged, not understanding his question. “It’s cool, but just an image. I haven’t seen the real thing here, anywhere…”

  “No,” said the Petch, pointing to a message under the hologram. “It says, ‘What do you think?’”

  The Princess leaned across the console, her eyes following the boy’s finger. She’d never noticed the small digital letters printed below the image, but they must have been there the entire time.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Ki’ara didn’t know what to think. Was this a message from her mother? …Or to her mother from someone else?

  It all circled back to the question that was really on her mind: What was her mother – the woman that had birthed her, but she’d never known – doing with all this stuff?

  Deep down, Ki’ara already knew the answer to that question. Or at least, she thought she did. It just seemed so hard to believe. And she didn’t have anybody to ask that could confirm it. Except, perhaps, for the man she was trying to save.

  With a breath of resolve, she turned to the others. “We need to go,” she told them. “We need to find the Traveler.”

  “You still want to find that guy?” asked Je’nna. She was busy scurrying about, gathering all kinds of supplies from the shelves; even passing items out that she thought others should have. Small packs, mostly, which the girl seemed fascinated with, and had collected several.

  “Of course,” replied Ki’ara. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “This place…” Je’nna shrugged. “I’ve never been in an Abnukadin as large and powerful as Sanctuary. But not even it can heal as fast as this place. Not even close. We could bring your Guardian here…”

  Ki’ara shook her head. “Do you think Mother would let us come back here? With her doctors, and Sir Grue’gan?”

  Je’nna looked away, giving Ki’ara her answer.

  The Princess couldn’t help but notice that her friend’s hair was solid pink again; her tattoo, gone. Does she even know about the slip? Though Ki’ara desperately wanted to understand what was going on with Je’nna, her focus was on helping Grue’gan. The longer it took to find To’mas, the longer her Guardian remained in agony, fighting for his life.

  “Apart from sneaking into Sanctuary, kidnapping doctors capable of performing the surgery – along with all the instruments they’d need to safely cut out the bullet – while getting Sir Grue’gan here without killing him… our options are limited.”

  “And how are we supposed to find your Traveler?” asked Je’nna. She had found a larger pack, not unlike Sir Grue’gan’s, and was cinching it onto Petch’s back as the boy held out his arms, wondering what was going on. When the round disk was secured, Je’nna stood back, folding her arms across her chest as she looked him over.

  “What?” asked the boy when he noticed Je’nna was frowning.

  The girl bit her lip, while rubbing a finger on her chin. Without a word, she headed back to the cabinets.

  She returned a moment later with a sword and scabbard, along with a thin belt to strap it to his waist. It was longer than the sword Ki’ara had loaned him, but with a shorter hilt and a straight, double-edged blade.

  The boy’s eyes went to Ki’ara’s, as if seeking permission to take it.

  Ki’ara forced a smile and nodded. It saddened her to see her childhood friend armed for battle. He was just a kid, after all. We’re all just kids. But with the kinds of people, and things, that had been chasing Ki’ara, it only made sense that anyone around her have some means of protection.

  When Je’nna was finished decorating Petch, which was marked by a satisfied nod, Ki’ara showed her the box, opening it so she could see the little triangle ornament inside. “We find the Traveler with this,” she said, confidently.

  Before Je’nna could ask what it was, Ki’ara pointed at the open doorway and added, “Through there.”

  Je’nna and Petch followed as Ki’ara led the way down the narrow tunnel. It would have been dark had it not been for the Blue Energy atop her wrists, illuminating the stone walls, floor, and arched ceiling.

  The trio could tell they were descending, though the slope was subtle enough to hardly be noticeable.

  When they came to an intersection, Ki’ara knew exactly which way to go, leading them to the left without hesitation. The other two followed curiously, wondering how she was so confident with her decision. They even shared a surprised look when Ki’ara flipped a latch and took hold of a handle on a curved section of wall, sliding it open with a controlled pull.

  The three of them stepped through, finding themselves in a curved nook within another dark corridor. The bowed sliding door had a stone veneer on this side, which blended right into the surrounding wall the moment it was closed, hiding any signs of a portal.

  “What is this place?” asked Petch. His duties led him all over the castle, but he was certain that he’d never been here.

  “We’re in the Old Dungeon,” said Ki’ara, leading them onward. Through the years, the Princess had explored the castle from top to bottom. But the Old Dungeon was one place she had always avoided. It was cold, dark, and terrifying. Not necessarily in that order.

  They passed numerous doors – some wooden, others iron – many with bars and heavy locks. Chills ran up their spines when the three of them crossed a chamber filled with chained manacles and rusty metal contraptions that were no doubt ancient torture device
s of some kind or another. They tried not to think about how they might have been used all those years ago.

  Ki’ara kept them moving past it all, on a determined path that led them deeper and deeper into an area of the Old Castle that she had never dared enter. The air was thick and dank, the smells making it uncomfortable to breathe. She finally came to a halt at an old wooden door, which let out a loud creak when she pulled it open.

  The room behind it was small, with an old table in the middle, surrounded by five wooden chairs that looked like they hadn’t been sat upon in centuries.

  “Dead end,” muttered Je’nna. “What did you expect to find in here?”

  Ki’ara said nothing. Instead, she opened the small metal box and touched her finger to the floating metal triangle.

  The other two shrugged at one another as Ki’ara peered up from the strange device in her hands.

  Without a word, she moved deeper into the creepy room; all the way to the back. Her hand hovered over the rough stone blocks that made up the rear wall of the chamber, before resting on one high enough that she needed to stand on her toes to reach.

  Je’nna and Petch watched as the stone slid back at her touch, recessing it deeper than the wall surrounding it.

  Stepping to the side, Ki’ara pressed a second one that was nearly as high up, before leaning down to push one near the floor.

  The room echoed a rumbling groan as a large section of wall slowly shifted back, revealing yet another concealed passage.

  Unlike the previous openings, this door was solid and heavy. The floor shook with its movement until the thick stone portal was finally open.

  From the darkness behind, a tall hooded man emerged into the blue light of Ki’ara’s Niksuru. His crimson eyes gazed down at her as he offered a warm smile. “Hello, Princess. I feared you might leave me waiting forever.”

  Part 3: Underworld

  1

  “To’mas.” Though Ki’ara had desperately wanted to find the man, she never expected that he would be waiting on the other side of this door. He was the key to saving her Guardian. And now he was standing right in front of her. “How did you know…?”

  The man’s smile was warm as he gave her a wink. “Now, Ki’ara, you of all people should know how possible it is to see what’s coming.”

  “But… Ma’gy…” Ki’ara sputtered. “You knew to give her the box, and that it would lead me here?”

  To’mas shrugged. “I saw what I saw.”

  Ki’ara didn’t know quite what that meant. Unless he had an ability similar to her own. “You see Visions of the future?”

  Another shrug. “Bits and pieces.”

  Yeah, nodded Ki’ara. Me too.

  Ki’ara had never met anyone else with the same curse and found herself wanting to ask him a million questions – even just to compare notes – but jumped straight to the real reason she’d sought him out. “Are you really the Traveler?”

  To’mas slowly nodded. “I’ve been called that a time or two.”

  “Is it true that you can Travel to different Lands?” asked Ki’ara. “To different… Worlds?”

  The man’s eyebrows went up. “There was a time when I could.” he frowned. “But that was years ago.”

  Ki’ara could feel her heart sinking. The Traveler was her only hope. “Could you do it again?”

  “Perhaps.” To’mas tilted his head as he considered the idea.

  There was a long stretch of silence, after which he and Ki’ara both said at precisely the same time: “I need your help.”

  “My help?” said Ki’ara, caught off guard by the man’s request.

  To’mas nodded.

  “What can I do to help you?” asked the Princess, her arms folding across her chest.

  “In order for the Abnukadin to take us out of Avalon,” answered To’mas, “We need a key.”

  “A key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Ki’ara cocked an eyebrow. “Where is this key?”

  “That is what I need your help for, Princess,” admitted To’mas. “I can’t find it on my own.”

  Ki’ara looked to her friends, who both shrugged. “How can we help you?” she asked.

  “With that.” He pointed at the box in Ki’ara’s hand.

  Ki’ara looked down at the small metal compartment. The lid was still lifted, but the triangle had stopped spinning.

  Je’nna stepped out from behind Ki’ara, asking, “You know what that is?”

  To’mas offered her the same warm smile as Ki’ara. “Hello, Je’nna. How are things at Sanctuary?”

  The pink-haired girl looked away. “Been better.”

  “Oh.” To’mas frowned. “Mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Acting weird,” said Je’nna, acknowledging something had changed with the woman.

  “Oh.” To’mas scratched his head of long hair. “How are you?”

  “Bored.”

  “Oh.”

  “So…” With her index finger, Je’nna steered him back to the metal box. “What is it?”

  “Ah, yes, well… it’s called an Inuwuru…”

  “Memories,” Ki’ara interjected. She looked up from the box to find that all eyes had fallen upon her.

  To’mas gave her a knowing nod. “Yes,” he agreed.

  “Memories?” Je’nna snickered, making it clear she thought the notion sounded absurd. “Yeah, right.”

  “Whose memories?” chimed Petch, as he peeked over Ki’ara’s shoulder.

  “And who is this young man?” asked To’mas, stepping into the room and putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You look familiar, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “This is Petch,” said Ki’ara. “A good friend.”

  “Petch. Petch. Petch.” To’mas looked up at the ceiling, filtering through his own memories. “Ah, yes, Petch!” he finally acknowledged, shaking the boy’s shoulder. “Great to make your acquaintance!”

  “Uh, likewise?” said Petch, uneasily.

  “Do you… know him from somewhere?” asked Ki’ara.

  “Oh, no.” To’mas shook his head. “Not yet.”

  As the others contemplated what the man could have meant, Petch repeated, “So, whose memories are in the box?”

  Once again To’mas and Ki’ara spoke at the same instant. But this time their answers were different. While Ki’ara said: “My mother’s”; To’mas said: “The Angel’s.”

  Je’nna and Petch both found themselves looking at the faces around them, hoping for some clarification.

  “Well?” Je’nna finally asked, “Which is it?”

  While Ki’ara was certain she knew the answer, she waited for To’mas to reply.

  “Both,” he told them.

  Ki’ara felt a chill run up her spine upon hearing the man’s confirmation.

  Je’nna pushed her mouth to the side, staring at the pair like they were both full of crap.

  Petch was excited at the notion. “There are two people’s memories in there?”

  “No,” said To’mas.

  “But you said…” Petch scratched his head as he read between the not-so-subtle lines. “Wait… The Angel of Avalon… is your MOM?”

  2

  The pain through his legs was nearly unbearable, but it was the feeling of his hand that held the man’s attention. It shouldn’t be there. He’d felt phantom sensations several times since losing it. But nothing like this.

  Yesterday morning, Sylor had been complete. The only thing missing was his brother. The Witch’s little friend saw to the end of that. And Sylor was far from being accustomed to the loss. But the man could tell that something was not right. He could now feel every finger on the hand that had been taken from him.

  And, though it hurt, he could move them all.

  The man tried to make sense of what was going on – not only the feeling in his hand, but the strange sounds: grinding, whirring, humming and hissing.

 
And the smells were just as peculiar. Alcohol and mysterious chemicals that did little to block the scent of burnt flesh and powdered bone.

  Though the sounds and smells were curious and overwhelming, all he could see was blackness.

  He wasn’t even certain that his eyes were open.

  Sylor tried to reach up to his face, but his hand was pinned near his side. Both of them were. I only have one.

  Suddenly, there were lights everywhere as a dark mask lifted from his face. He had no idea where he was. The lights were too bright to see beyond, but he could tell that he was lying on some kind of bench, with a blur of activity taking place around him.

  The lights reflected on metal instruments that zipped around his torso and legs with precise, sudden movements. The motion and glints of light were disorienting at best, leaving him confused and nauseous.

  Tiny sawblades cut. Powerful lasers burned. Robotic mechanisms that held unrecognizable tools darted this way and that, often causing sharp pains wherever they stopped.

  Sylor had no idea what was going on. He didn’t understand that the precision machines were working furiously to reassemble his shattered legs and hips; to repair his damaged organs and burned flesh; and to replace his missing hand.

  All he knew was that it hurt. And that the little Witch-Princess needed to pay.

  He wondered if this was the torture of being dead.

  That thought infuriated him. It would mean that the girl had escaped her punishment, for he had nobody else to see it through. There was no pain he would not face to see the girl suffer her penance. Perhaps he could find a way to haunt her from the grave, which he would gladly do until her very last breath…

  For now, all he could do was close his eyes.

  When he opened them again, three figures were standing over him.

  They were blurry – hazy silhouettes behind the lights – but he could see them clearly enough to know that they were not human.

  Or so he thought.

  But when one of them leaned dangerously close, Sylor realized he was wrong. Not only was this figure human, she was the most striking woman he had ever laid eyes upon.