Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “Really. Thank you. Also…for looking out for me.” She reached out and put her hand on the man’s elbow. “If I had you around my whole life, maybe I wouldn’t have needed to pray to the Grandfather so much.”

  He bowed his head. “Anytime, Miss Ember. Those of us who dedicate our lives to pursuits of the spirit must look out for each other.”

  She stifled a yawn.

  He chuckled. “Get some rest, my friend.”

  Friend.

  “I will. Thank you.” She opened the door and stepped inside. “I’ll see you later.”

  He bowed at the waist.

  She shut the door and, this time, didn’t fight the yawn. Stripping down to her underwear and undoing the bandages she used to flatten her breasts, she climbed under the covers with a groan.

  All right, maybe the bed wasn’t too puffy after all.

  Friend. Been a long time since I’ve had one of those.

  Too bad it won’t last.

  23

  Jakob woke up to the sound of a hushed but angry conversation. He blinked, rubbed his hand across his eyes, and realized he was no longer resting against Dtu’s side, but instead lying on the ground atop a fur coat he didn’t recognize. It smelled wonderful, and it was warm.

  “I will not abandon—”

  “You are not abandoning anyone or anything, you impenetrable simpleton. For once in your life, I beg you to listen to the words coming out of my mouth.”

  He sat up, yawned, and searched for the voices. It didn’t take long. Twenty feet away from him stood Dtu in human form, with his wolfen wooden mask, and a man dressed in black from head to toe. The man had long, black hair, and a full black metal mask hid his face.

  “You do not get to bark orders at me like I am one of your servants,” Dtu growled at the other man. They were about of equal height, but the man in black seemed leaner than the shifter. “I am not yours to command.”

  “And do not bark at me as though you know what is about to transpire here. What I am saying to you is the command of someone with the desire to survive the war, not the battle. Your kind never think much past the moment.”

  “Hello, good morning,” Jakob chimed as he stood, brushing himself off. “Or night. Can’t much tell here. It always seems to be dark.” He chuckled and picked up the fur coat he had been sleeping on. He hugged it to his chest and strolled up to the two of them and struck his hand out to the man in black. “I’m Jakob. Nice to meet you. Who’re you?”

  The black metal mask turned to face him. There was a single hole over where the man’s eye must be, and a slit in the surface that ran down his cheek from the bottom of the circle. But other than that, nothing.

  He didn’t speak.

  Nor did he take Jakob’s offered hand.

  Jakob smiled and lowered his hand, shrugging it off. They must have strange customs here.

  The man in black turned on his heel. “Rxa will be here within the hour. His army approaches. You will do as I say, Dtu. Or the resulting casualties will be on your rotten, hollow head.”

  Dtu growled low, a sound that reverberated in his chest, but said nothing in retort.

  “Who was that?” Jakob asked the Varúlfur. “A friend?”

  “No. Not even close.” Dtu was shirtless, wearing only a pair of ratted canvas pants. He tried not to stare and failed. The man’s muscles were tense, and they twitched with unspent anger.

  Jakob frowned and offered Dtu back the coat that he had woken up on. “Is this yours? If so, thank you.”

  “You may keep it. You will need it.” Dtu cracked his neck loudly, the bones popping. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped as if conceding to something. “It will grow cold on the march.” He began to walk toward where the rest of Dtu’s people were gathered, sleeping or chatting quietly among each other, some few hundred feet away by the tree line.

  “Oh?” Jakob jogged to catch up to him. “Where are we going?”

  “North.”

  “North? What’s north?” He shrugged on the fur coat. It was soft against him, and already he felt cozy in it.

  “A friend.”

  “Fantastic! It’ll be great being on the road again.” He hugged Dtu’s right arm. The action must have startled the Varúlfur, as his steps hitched. “Thank you for the coat.”

  “You are…very welcome, little mortal.”

  “You must tell me more of yourself on the way. And of this world. Does the sun not rise here? It’s so dark.”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  Jakob laughed. “Amazing!”

  Dtu turned to look at him, the wooden holes of his eyes betraying nothing but darkness underneath. It must be some kind of trick they all shared. “Did you not like the sun?”

  “No, I loved it. But there is so much magic here. So many impossible things. All we had were the drengil. Under—this place—it has so many wonderful things.”

  “All of which could kill you.”

  “Eh.” Jakob shrugged. “Everything can kill me. That’s nothing new.”

  “You are a very odd mortal…” Dtu shook his head.

  “I’ve heard that a lot, too. Well, not the mortal part, really. Oh!” He let go of Dtu’s arm to pull a medallion from around his neck. “Since you gave me the coat, I would like to give you this in exchange. Here.” He held it out to the other man.

  The shifter took the medallion and held it in his palm, peering down at it curiously. It was a simple disk of copper, etched with lines and filled with black enamel. It hung from a leather string. “What is it?”

  “The sigil of the Grandfather. The mightiest of all our gods. It’s for protection. I know it’s not much, but—”

  “I…cannot take this.” Dtu ran his thumb over the copper disk, tracing the etched symbol. “It is yours.”

  “And the coat was yours.”

  “I can summon objects at will. It is the gift of being a royal of Under. The coat is no more mine than an acorn belongs to a tree.”

  “But the tree grew the acorn. And sure, maybe it can create thousands and a hundred thousand acorns, so it doesn’t miss a single one, but it’s still born from the tree.” Jakob smiled. “And in return for the tree’s shade, and shelter, and the acorn, I want it to know how much it’s appreciated. That’s all.”

  Dtu’s shoulders slackened again as tension in his back lessened. He sighed and pulled the necklace over his head, lifting his shoulder-length, unkempt brown hair out from under the leather string. “I will cherish it, Jakob. Thank you.”

  He smiled and hugged Dtu’s arm again. “Is it snowy in the north?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “I love the snow.” Jakob sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait.”

  Dtu paused for a long time. “You are an odd, odd mortal.”

  It all happened too quickly.

  Chaos generally did.

  That was one thing she had learned over the course of her life. There was no such thing as calm. It was always just an illusion. Things could change with the snap of a finger. And it very rarely came with warning.

  Ember woke up to the sound of shouting in the hallway. She knew what it meant. Throwing on her clothes, she pulled on her boots and shouldered her bag of supplies. Gripping the handle of her new knife, she threw open the door to the room Aon had loaned her and struck out into the morbid and nightmarish home of the strange king.

  She didn’t recognize any of the people running down the hall, all dressed in black. Some wore partial metal masks that were the same color as their clothing. Some didn’t. But all of them were armed.

  I miss my spear.

  Without any other idea of what to do, she headed in the direction everyone was going. Halfway down the second hallway, she heard someone call her name.

  “Ember. In here, if you will.”

  Pausing, she turned. Through a doorway, she could see Lyon standing by a table, his hands clasped behind his back. But it wasn’t he who had spoken; it was Aon. The man in black wa
s hard to notice in the shadows. The light of the electric bulbs glinted off his mask, the only thing separating him from the background.

  Ember walked into the room. It looked like a study of some kind. It was smaller than his library and had only a moderately grandiose appearance. The table in the center was covered with a large map. One other person was present—Lydia, the Queen of Dreams, was sitting in a chair. She looked furious.

  Ember glanced at the woman with the turquoise ink before she looked back to Aon. “I take it Rxa is here.”

  “Yes. With his army a million strong.”

  “A—” Ember swore and ran her hands through her hair. “You’re joking.”

  Lyon shook his head sadly. “Yej had a population of six million. It seems many managed to escape, but…not enough. He surrounds us on all sides, even now.”

  “Where are the others? Maverick, Ini, and the rest?” Ember glanced around the room again, wondering if they had managed to hide in the shadows.

  “They are leading the evacuation efforts.” Aon looked down at the paper map and gestured for Ember to come closer.

  She stepped to the edge of the table and looked down at the large scroll. It was gorgeous. It was both a map of the world of Under and a work of art at the same time. The world was one huge continent with a few smaller islands off the coast.

  “We are here.” Aon pointed at a spot on the map with the tip of his clawed finger. It had a drawing of the estate there, with House of Shadows written underneath it in formal and flawless script.

  She could see Yej just to the east of the spot where Aon was pointing, barely an inch from the House of Shadows. It gave her a sense of scale, and Under was huge. The far tip of the continent was easily eighty times the distance between Yej and Aon’s estate. “This place is much larger than Gioll. I saw a few of the maps of the old world before I left the citadel.”

  “I fear Under is even larger now. We have added some of your world to ours in the collision.” Aon waved his bare hand. “It is neither here nor there. This map is now obsolete. But I hope the important pieces are close enough to where they ought to be that this plan holds true.”

  “Why are you showing me a map?” Ember arched an eyebrow at the dark king.

  “Because he’s a suicidal asshole,” Lydia shot angrily from where she was sitting. “And this plan is stupid.”

  “It’s hardly what I would have wished for, yes, my dear.” Aon sighed. “It is not ideal. But it is the only option we have.”

  “Bullshit. I can fly. So can Lyon. I can take us out of here.” Lydia shook her head.

  Aon’s tone softened, and for the first time, Ember could hear his feelings for her in his voice. “You will get your chance to do just that, love.”

  “But not until he—” Lydia sighed. “Never mind. Never mind. We’ve been through this. Keep going.” She tucked her knee up to her chest and hugged it. “I’m worried.”

  “I know.” Aon turned back to the map.

  Ember furrowed her brow and watched the exchange. “Why are you showing me this?” she asked again.

  “This is the Temple of Dreams.” Aon pointed his claw down to another marker on the map a long distance south from where they were now. It was along the coast. “This is where Lyon, Lydia, and I will go after the confrontation with Rxa is over—if we survive.”

  “I feel as though I am being left in the dark on purpose.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned in a little closer to the King of Shadows. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He chuckled. “A great deal. But if my scheme goes the way I expect it will, your people will be safe, as will mine.”

  “Where are you taking the refugees?” She reached out and put her fingers on the edge of the map. The paper was old, but thick and in good condition.

  “Somewhere else. I cannot tell you.” Aon left the table to look out the window.

  “Why not?” She studied the map. She saw a myriad of names that made no sense to her. But she knew her current position and the Temple of Dreams were important, and she tried to burn the roadways between them into her memory.

  “I do not know how well you withstand torture.”

  Ember laughed. That earned her surprised looks from Lydia and Lyon. Even Aon turned to look back at her. “Sorry. I thought it was a joke. I have a morbid sense of humor. You need one as a graedari.”

  “I suppose you would, indeed.” Aon paused, seemingly pondering her. It was hard to tell, since he wore a full mask. “We will need to take Rxa to the Temple of Dreams. Beneath it is a cage that was fashioned a long time ago to hold a royal captive. I need a sample of his blood to complete the wards required.”

  “I’m missing really important pieces to this whole plan.” She shook her head. “You’re telling me only what I need to know.”

  “We do not have time for much else.” Aon turned back to the window. “And you’re correct. I am telling you precisely the things you must know.”

  It was a warning. Even though the tenor of his voice didn’t change, she knew it for what it was. She looked back down at the map, hoping she might be able to etch it into her mind. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

  “Why?” Lyon asked. “You do not know us.”

  Ember shut her eyes for a moment and pictured Ash standing there next to her, a broad grin on his face. He was such a jovial, goofy man. She had adored him. He had been her big brother. She could imagine him slapping his hand down on the table and declaring loudly that it was their duty.

  And then promptly asking for a drink and directions to the local whorehouse for a quick one before he died.

  She smiled and, opening her eyes, answered the blood-drinker. “A life lost protecting others was a life worth living.”

  He smiled back at her, his eyes creasing in warmth. He bowed his head to her then in respect. “Wise words, Miss Ember.”

  “It is time to go,” Aon interrupted.

  “One last thing, if I may.” Lyon stepped around the table to approach her. “I thought perhaps you might wish for something more formidable than a simple knife.” He extended his hand, and with a gesture, an object appeared in his hand. “You had something similar with you when you arrived.”

  She gasped. It was a spear, sure. But that was where the similarities to her old weapon ended. The last one she owned had been a piece of rebar that she had polished and sharpened down to a point, then tied leather around to make a shoulder strap. It had been crude, but effective.

  What Lyon was offering to her was gold. It shone in the light. The middle of it was carved with swirling lines, giving it enough texture that her hand wouldn’t slide when she used it. The pointed tip had a single barb. Enough to cause damage, but not too difficult to remove from her quarry. It, too, had a leather strap. But it wasn’t poorly stitched together leather. It was white.

  “I—you can’t possibly—”

  Lyon smiled again at her tenderly. “So that you might yet live another lifetime after today. Please.”

  She took it gingerly. It felt light in her hand. It couldn’t possibly be actual gold, then—it would be too soft to be a weapon, and it would have been much heavier. Tears stung her eyes, and she swiped her sleeve across her face to shoo them away. “Thank you, my friend. Thank you. I hope I get to use it more than once.”

  Lyon put his hand on her shoulder. “Indeed. I will see you soon.”

  The message was clear; he would not say goodbye. She put her hand over his and smiled up at him. “Until then.”

  “If you two are quite finished.” Aon took control of the room once more. “We have work to do. Come, Ember.”

  And with that, the King of Shadows led her from the room. She followed him, still marveling at the spear in her hands. She twirled it over the back of her hand once. She knew she must be grinning like a fool. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever been given in her life. Although, truth be told, she’d been given so very little.

  “Nothing that is about to trans
pire is personal.” Aon had been silent for so long that when he spoke, it actually startled her.

  She blinked. “Okay?”

  Aon slowed to walk beside her and turned his head toward her. The light reflected off the odd circle and line in his mask, proving that they were holes down to what should have been his face beneath. But like all the other masks she had seen, something hid his face in darkness. “You do not seem as though you trust easily.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Why?”

  She looked away. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was staring. She didn’t like how much he could probably see. She didn’t spend much time with people, so she wasn’t used to hiding her expressions. She was probably giving everything away without realizing it. Now I wish I had a mask to wear. “People can be shit.”

  He chuckled darkly. “In that, we are agreed.”

  She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him. But the urge was there anyway. I told him so much about my life, and none of it that really mattered. “My partner—my brother Ash. He didn’t die from drengil. He died because when people are tempted…when they think they can get away with theft or murder? Most of them don’t hesitate to screw over everyone else to get what they want. That’s why I don’t trust people.”

  They stopped at the front door to his estate. It was as beautiful and detailed as everything else in his house. It was also as needlessly large.

  “Nor should you. Which is why I am merely providing you the explanation that what is about to occur is a bit of theatre.”

  She watched him for a second before she smirked. “You’re going to do something awful, aren’t you?”

  “Mmhm.” He sounded pleased at the idea.

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Not overmuch.”

  She shrugged and slung her spear onto her back. “Great. I’m a terrible liar, though. You’re going to have to make it look real—whatever it is you’re going to do.”

  He lifted his clawed hand and examined the palm, flexing and straightening his fingers, as if ensuring that they still worked. “Oh, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s that.”