Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  “I will warn all in my house,” the elven creature replied.

  “What of the Orrery? Will you attempt to repair it?” The King of Blood looked toward the twisted pile of metal and shattered glass with a troubled expression.

  “It took me two thousand years to build it the first time.” The floating woman shrugged. “I suppose I have little else to do.”

  Lyon chuckled. “Be careful, my queen. I beg you.”

  “You worry too much for others, my dear king.” She floated back to the tall man in white and placed the painted blue lips of her porcelain mask to the man’s forehead. “But that is why we love you so.”

  Lyon smiled gently. “You are too kind.”

  “What are we to do with our mortal friend?” Ini turned to her. Ember shrank back reflexively. “You can stay here with me, my beautiful darling. Or you may return to the cathedral with Lyon. Which do you prefer?”

  I don’t trust either of you. It seemed rude to point out the obvious. She looked between the two. A stunning, as-good-as-naked, inhuman woman, or a tall, pale, forlorn statue of a man who drank blood.

  Both of them had gone fishing about in her head.

  Choices, choices.

  “Are you idiots coming?” Maverick called from the foyer. “Truly, no wonder we are all immortal. We would all die before anything was accomplished, otherwise.”

  Lyon chuckled. “He has become so bitter as of late. Well.” He paused. “Vocally bitter, perhaps.”

  “It is how he…copes.” Ini’s tone grew sad as she placed her hand on Lyon’s shoulder. “Be patient with his grief.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” Lyon turned his attention back to Ember. “What shall it be, Miss Ember?”

  Glancing around the Great Hall, she took stock of her options. “I think I’ll return with you, Lyon, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” He bowed his head. “I am flattered.”

  “Don’t be.” She smirked. “Your building is safer. Smaller windows. Easier to escape.”

  The blood-drinker laughed. He didn’t seem offended. “Naturally. Of course.”

  Besides. You’re less distracting. I’m not sure I can keep from blushing around Ini. It had been a very long time since Ember had been around anyone, especially someone so beautiful. Nudity hadn’t been a shameful thing in her culture, just an infrequent one.

  “Now I’m the flattered one,” Ini replied, her voice sultry. “You needn’t be shy, you know.”

  Ember’s face lit up like it was on fire. She coughed and turned to hide her face. “I said to stay out of my head.”

  “Sorry! Sorry. Some thoughts are just so very loud. It’s hard to tune out.” Ini giggled.

  “Now, please,” Maverick called from the entrance.

  Ember was eager to follow the man in gray. “Goodbye, Ini. It was nice to meet you.”

  “I look forward to seeing you again soon, my dear Ember,” the woman in blue purred from behind her.

  Lyon fell in step beside Ember. He stayed silent until they were well out of hearing range and had caught up to Maverick where he was still waiting by the entrance. “She is a bit much at first. I apologize.”

  The three of them headed out of the building together. Ember looked up at the starry sky overhead and wondered what it would be like to never see the sun again. It broke her heart, even if the strangely colored moons were beautiful. “It’s fine…everything here is a bit much.”

  “That’s quite fair.” Lyon placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  She shot him a look. “No.”

  “That is also fair. Once we return to the cathedral, I will see that you have a room made up. My home is not as opulent as the quarters here, as you can imagine, but they are comfortable. I believe you have earned a long rest and a hot bath.”

  A bath. In hot water. I don’t think I’ve had that since…since I was a child. She kept that to herself. It was embarrassing, and probably obvious by looking at her. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

  Kindness.

  It was such a strange thing for her to experience. Even as a healer, as a graedari, she wasn’t ever greeted with open arms. She wasn’t to be trusted. Healers were still human and still known to fall to corruption. Fear was fear, and resources were limited.

  Even when she was saving lives, she was never welcome to stay. Sometimes she was given food or a night of shelter in return for her work. But rarely ever anything more than that. And it was always out of…obligation.

  Never kindness.

  She ran her thumb over the brass of the pocket watch Maverick had given her. She thought of the cookie she had stolen and shoved into her bag that had so easily been given to her by Lyon. And the sandwich.

  And now both Ini and Lyon had invited her into their homes. For knowledge, perhaps—as a clue to the travesty that had happened to their world—but they could have shoved her in a cage instead. Kept her as a prisoner.

  Not as a guest.

  Honestly, Ember didn’t know what in the name of Pit she was supposed to do with that. She didn’t know how to react. It worried her. It’s a trap. A trick. They’re trying to get me to drop my guard.

  The man crushed a skull with one hand and can control my mind.

  Why the fuck would he need a trap?

  She sighed heavily as she walked beside the King of Blood, with the Elder of Words on her other side. Strange titles in an even stranger world.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry. Your world is…overwhelming.”

  Maverick smirked at her and tucked his hands in his coat. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems you do appreciate a bit of honesty,” he said to them without turning his head. “Welcome to Under. I believe the mayhem has only just begun.”

  8

  The walk back to the cathedral was decidedly less horrifying than the walk from it. Ember kept her hand on the handle of her knife, regardless. She listened to Maverick and Lyon talk as she continued to gape at the world around her, trying to take in every inch of detail.

  “There is a word for what those creatures are,” Maverick mentioned to Ember. “What you call the drengil. On Earth, the world we all come from, they are referred to as ‘zombies.’ Your word is far more elegant. But perhaps that’s entirely because I do not know what it translates to.”

  “I’m not sure there is a translation.” She shook her head. “They simply are what they are. Drengil.”

  “When you spoke your prayer for the fallen woman, I could not understand the words you spoke,” Lyon said thoughtfully as he looked off into the city. “We are given the gift of understanding the speech of all those who come to Under, by benefit of their journey into the Pool of the Ancients. Since none of your world have joined us, perhaps…that is why.”

  “Then how come I can understand you at all?” Ember asked. “I suppose it didn’t occur to me in all the madness. I doubt we speak the same common language.”

  “Perhaps the common tongue you speak came with your so-called Dread God,” Maverick pondered. “Why would it not know the other language you speak?”

  “Renskur is the language of the old gods. It’s a dead tongue, known and used only by hunters like me. It’s ceremonial.” She shrugged. “The Dread God would not know it.”

  “Hum.” Maverick stroked his chin. “I would like very much to transcribe it.”

  “Why? If my world is gone, and so are my people, what’s the point?” She raised her eyebrow at the man in gray. “It’s useless.”

  “Knowledge is never useless. Especially in regard to that which is on the brink of being lost. You may be the only record of Renskur left.” That felt like a punch to the gut. It must have shown on her face. Maverick cringed. “I did not mean it like that.”

  “It’s fine.” She turned her attention back to the road ahead of them and grasped the leather strap of her spear in both her hands, enjoying the feel of the leather. “It’s true. My world is dead. My culture is
dead.”

  “There is a good chance that others of you have survived.” Lyon put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “For now. I was lucky to land where I did.” The realization was just beginning to settle over her. It felt like a cold wind, clawing its way through cracks in the windows. “There are monsters in your world…hungry ones. Not to mention those that come from mine.”

  “Perhaps your theory is wrong,” Maverick said, his tone noticeably softer as he clearly tried to right the damage he’d done. “Maybe the collision only brought some of you to this world, and Gioll continues without you and your Dread God. It is possible that Gioll is saved.”

  Ember smirked sadly. “I can only hope you’re—”

  They all came to a stop in the main open square at the foot of the Cathedral of the Ancients. Something stopped their conversation in its tracks. Something big. Something glowing.

  And something that disproved Maverick’s optimistic theory as quickly as it had come.

  The Elder of Words let out a long, disgruntled sigh. “I don’t suppose you recognize that, do you?” He pointed up at the sky. He pointed up at a large, glowing moon that was just beginning to rise over the line of the buildings.

  She did recognize it.

  It was the first thing she had seen in Under that she knew as part of her own world. It shone down on the city in a sallow, yellowed, and sickly color.

  They were not the only ones who noticed it. The passersby that she could see in the large city square all glanced up nervously at it, muttering to each other in hushed tones, pointing up at the yellow moon.

  There was all the proof she needed that Gioll was dead. Everything she had ever known…was gone. She shut her eyes and lowered her head, fighting back tears. “I suppose I should start writing down my language for you, Maverick.”

  Lyon’s hand returned to her shoulder. “I am so very sorry, Ember. I hoped that perhaps we could find a way to return you to your world.”

  “No…it’s okay.” She swallowed the rock in her throat and, with a deep, wavering breath, squared her shoulders and raised her head. “My world was sick and dying. In our culture, we send those on the brink of death to the old gods to spare them their suffering. Gioll was shown mercy.” She paused. “I do wish I had some alcohol, however.”

  Lyon chuckled. “That, we can assist with. Come.”

  The rest of the walk to the cathedral was spent in silence. Maverick kept looking up at the yellowed moon with a shake of his head. Each time he did, his expression grew darker and darker. Lyon seemed to be taking it much better. Or perhaps the stoic man simply didn’t show it.

  But something seemed to be troubling Maverick. She didn’t know him enough to pry, even if she really wanted to. It isn’t my business. We aren’t friends. He gave you the pocket watch out of pity. She kept her mouth shut.

  Once they were inside the cathedral, she tilted her head in curiosity at a man who walked up to them. Well, perhaps the word wasn’t walked. Perhaps it was waddled. He looked crammed into a white suit that was clearly a few sizes too small for him, the buttons straining at the front. Something about him just looked greasy. A half mask sat on his face, strapped over the front from side to side, giving him a birdlike appearance.

  “Otoi,” Lyon greeted the man dully.

  “What is—I came at your call, and I find you missing, but instead find that”—he jabbed a finger toward the statue by the wall with the tattered yellow fabric on the altar—“instead! What is going on? And who is this?” Otoi peered at her. And then grinned. “Hello.”

  “Um. Hi.” Ember took a step back from the man. She didn’t like how he watched her. His eyes were beady, and his stare reminded her of the packs of roaming survivors of Gioll that were known to do terrible things to people they came across. It was the stare of a man wondering what he could get out of her and at what price.

  “Miss Ember needs a guest room. Will you see to it? The one closest to my chambers. I would like her to be provided with dinner, wine, and clean clothes. She will be retiring shortly, so I need it done immediately.” Lyon’s tone was still emotionless, but something about it made it very clear that there would be no further discussion.

  “Yes, my king.” Otoi swallowed, bowed, and waddled away.

  “Otoi is harmless,” Lyon said gently down to Ember after the little man was gone. “He is my elder. If he says anything untoward, please feel free to correct the situation however you see fit.”

  “And I remind you, we do not die here in Under by normal means,” Maverick added with a faint smile.

  Ember chuckled once and shook her head. “This is all too much.”

  “At least you aren’t babbling and crying like some.” Maverick strolled across the room toward the yellow altar, his hands clasped behind his back. “I do get tired of their incessant whimpering. ‘When can I go home? Let me go. You can’t keep me here. This isn’t real. None of this is real,’ etcetera.”

  Ember frowned. “I’m not surprised that people are upset when they’re abducted.”

  Maverick only grunted in reply.

  Lyon shook his head and watched the Elder of Words with a doleful expression. When she looked up at him questioningly, he shook his head. “A discussion for another time,” he murmured quietly.

  “An ugly fellow, isn’t he?” Maverick tilted his head as he took in the statue in front of him. The stone figure with its rotted flesh and gaping skull grinned back in its silent threat. “Seems fitting that our new Ancient be even worse than the previous ones. I wonder how this one plans to ruin our lives and the world as a whole.”

  Lyon’s jaw twitched. He ignored the comments from Maverick. “Come, Ember. Let me take you to your room.” He placed his hand on her arm. “The elder and I will have much to discuss, but you needn’t be privy to our political conversations.”

  “I don’t think they’d make much sense to me anyway.” And a hot bath, a bottle of wine, and sleep sounds amazing. “Are we safe here?”

  Lyon began to reply, but Maverick beat him to it. “As safe as we are anywhere. Which means no. Not likely.”

  Lyon’s twitching jaw began again. He walked down the aisle of the sanctuary, motioning for her to follow him.

  Hesitating, she couldn’t help but regard the man in gray thoughtfully. He was angry. But about what? “Maverick…thank you for the watch. And your kindness. I look forward to the tour of your library and telling you all about my dead world.”

  He turned to her. Something flickered in his gaze—that strange mix of grief and rage again. But when he looked at her, it softened. He bowed his head. “You are welcome. Sleep well, Ember.”

  Lyon led her through the cathedral. She still didn’t know what to make of the candles that seemed to ignite and extinguish with their presence. But all things considered, they were one of the least ridiculous things she had seen so far.

  Her thoughts kept returning to the man in gray. “Is Maverick…” She didn’t even know what she was asking. “It isn’t my business. Sorry.”

  “Is he all right? No.” He paused. “I don’t believe he is. But the trouble stems not from today’s upheaval, but instead one that occurred four hundred years ago. This is not the first ‘apocalypse’ our world has weathered, I’m afraid. It is…” He paused to count. “The third? Perhaps the fourth, depending upon who you ask.”

  “Oh.” What am I supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry.” She kicked herself. That was the best she could come up with? She was supposed to be a priestess of the old gods—she was supposed to help soothe people’s worries. And the best she could summon was that. “I guess…this is my second? Although, technically, the first one started before I was born.”

  Lyon smiled, but it faded a moment later. “Four hundred years ago, the Ancients rose from their prison due to the actions of a wayward king, my predecessor Rxa. It was his power that kept the Ancients chained at the bottom of the Pool of the Ancients. He attacked the new Queen of Dreams, thinki
ng her an abomination. The King of Shadows, her lover, did not take kindly to it, and killed Rxa in his rage. What ensued cost us…many beloved lives. Including that of Maverick’s wife. He has not quite recovered. He blames the Ancients for her loss.”

  Ember frowned. “I blamed the Dread God for all my troubles for a long time. I hated it for what it had done to my world. For all the death and destruction it brought to innocent souls who didn’t deserve it. But I’ve learned that hating the gods for what they do is useless. They’re like the weather. You can hate the rain, but it won’t stop being wet.”

  “Wise words.” They fell into silence for a long moment. “I have tried to help Maverick all I can. But besides playing the sympathetic ear and being his companion when he is in need of one, there is not much to be done about grief such as that. His journey is his own to walk.”

  “It’s still sad. I still feel for him. I know what it’s like to lose someone very important.”

  “Indeed. As do we all, I’m afraid…such is the way of life.” He stopped at a door and, turning the knob, pushed it open. “Here we are.”

  Stepping in, she quickly took stock of her surroundings. One wall was accented by two thin windows, letting the moonlight stream in. They arched to a point at the top, and the stone jambs revealed that the walls were several feet thick. Despite the gray stone walls, the room was warm. The fireplace was lit, and it sent cozy amber light flickering across the carpeted floor.

  A large poster bed by the wall was calling her name. It was covered in blankets, and one looked as though it was made of soft white fur. She wanted to burrow in and fall asleep. Bathe first. Don’t dirty the room so quickly. A door by one wall was open, revealing a bathroom inside. A real, working bathroom!

  A tray on a bench at the foot of the bed held a plate of food and a bottle of wine with a single glass. A small pile of what must be clothing was folded up at the foot of the bed.

  “Our accommodations here are more austere than those of my brethren. Hm. Save perhaps Dtu, the King of Moons. He lives in the woods, after all.” He chuckled. “I apologize if you find my home lacking any luxuries you might expect.”