Unlit_A Kingdoms of Earth & Air Novel

by Keri Arthur

  He stopped beside me. “How deep is it?”

  “It’s just over fifty feet—and at the very bottom of it lies a tunnel.”

  His head snapped around. “What?”

  I nodded. “I have this really weird feeling the tunnel is how Saska got here.”

  “The tunnel might be, but how did she get to the surface? Regular air witches can’t interact with the earth.” He knelt at the edge of the hole and peered in. “The air has a rather foul smell to it.”

  My heart began to race a little faster. “Urine and blue cheese?”

  He glanced up again. “The senses of a Sifft are stronger than I thought if you’re aware of the smell when the wind carries it away rather than toward you.”

  A grim smile touched my lips as I knelt beside him. “The children had the same smell.”

  And that not only meant this tunnel was somehow connected to them, but could also be connected to the plot to overthrow Winterborne.

  Trey swore. “It could also mean the deadness in the earth is an indicator of them.”

  I glanced at him sharply. “You heard my thoughts?”

  His gaze met mine with grim wariness. “Yes.”

  “But how? Are you telepathic?”

  “No.” He hesitated. “The ceremony of Gaia created a connection between us.”

  “Is that all it did?”

  He hesitated again and half shrugged. “I don’t know. And I can’t hear them all the time.”

  That was a relief, given some of my more recent thoughts about him. “But you must have at least some idea of what other problems might arise.”

  “Indeed, but I can’t see the sense in worrying about things that may not happen.” He waved a hand at the trench. “Not when we have greater worries.”

  In other words, he still didn’t want to talk about it. The man was frustration itself. I resisted the inane urge to call him all sorts of names—although the slight smile touching his lips suggested he’d caught them anyway—and said, “I don’t suppose you saw a rope in any of the storage units?”

  “I had no reason to look. Wait here.” He rose and ran back to the speeder.

  I leaned over the shaft, wrinkling my nose against the stink that was rising. Twined within the god-awful smell of urine and blue cheese was the aroma of rotting meat. Something had died down there, and I could only hope it wasn’t a child. That Saska’s freedom hadn’t come at the cost of another’s life.

  Trey returned with both a rope and flashlight. His gaze swept the width of the excavation and uneasiness settled across his expression. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get down that shaft. My shoulders are too wide.”

  “That’s because it was created for someone my size, not yours.” I held my hand out for the rope, and after a moment, he gave it to me. “Besides, it’s not your task to be investigating such places, Commander. It’s mine.”

  His expression was decidedly unhappy. “I’d rather be stuck down that hole than up here worrying about what you’re dropping into.”

  “I’m Sifft, remember, and Nightwatch besides. I can both see and defend myself, and probably far better than either you or anyone else you might send down to investigate.”

  “I understand all that. It doesn’t change the fact I’d rather it be me.” He turned on the flashlight and pointed it down the shaft. “I can’t see anything but dirt at the bottom.”

  Meaning the death I still smelled was out of immediate sight. I looped the rope around my waist and shoulders, and then handed him the rest of it. “Don’t let me fall.”

  “No.” He hesitated. “Be careful, Neve. Comms are still down at Blacklake and we’re too far out from Winterborne for Daywatch to come to our rescue if something goes wrong.”

  I flashed him a smile. “Careful’s my middle name, Commander.”

  He snorted softly, but his amusement quickly fell away as I hung my legs over the edge of the shaft. After a deep breath to gather as much fresh air as I could, I slowly lowered myself down, keeping my palms pressed against the wall on either side to help keep the strain off Trey’s shoulders.

  “Don’t worry about my damn shoulders,” he said. “Just concentrate on listening for whatever might lie just beyond sight.”

  “Why aren’t I catching your thoughts as easily as you seem to be catching mine?”

  “Oh, you’re catching them. Most of the time, you’re just not aware of it.”

  “That’s rather annoying.”

  “Not really. Not from my perspective anyway.”

  “Suggesting you have thoughts you’d rather keep secret?”

  “We all have those, Neve.”

  “Yeah, but I suspect yours might concern either this quest or me more than anything related to your life, be it at Blacklake or Winterborne.”

  “How about you concentrate on what you’re doing rather than firing questions at me?”

  I half smiled. “I’m female, Trey. We can multitask.”

  “Believe me, I’m well aware that you’re female.”

  “I’d never have guessed it from your actions of late.”

  “Can we please have this discussion later?” he all but growled. “Tell me what you’re damn well seeing.”

  “Right now, I’m seeing and feeling nothing but lifeless earth. And you really don’t want to know what I’m smelling.”

  I continued to drop down into the darkness, and with each foot that passed, the stench got stronger, until my stomach was threatening to erupt up my throat. Damn it, I needed fresh air! I reached for the wind, and yet again, she immediately answered. Fingers of freshness spun around me, easing the sick queasiness in my stomach as they chased the worst of smells away.

  I continued to ease my way down the shaft. The farther away from the surface I got, the deeper the darkness became. I’d never feared the ink of night, but there was something in this utter blackness that had trepidation racing across my skin.

  “How much further?” Trey called down.

  “Five feet. Get ready, I’m about to jump down.”

  “Go for it.”

  I released my grip on the walls and dropped to the tunnel’s base. Dirt listlessly filled the air; it was almost as if the life that had been drawn from it had made it unwilling to stir.

  I drew my knife and blaster, holding both weapons at the ready as I carefully looked around. There was no movement in this place, no indicator that anything or anyone had been down here recently. Seven feet to the right of where I stood, the tunnel ended. To the left, it stretched on into inky darkness. The scent, whatever it was, was coming from the left rather than the right.

  I hesitated, and then went right, slipping my blaster back into its holster so I could place a hand on the solid wall of earth. Initially there was no response, and then power stirred, a beat of life that held only a little distance to it. The earth might be inert at the tunnel’s edge, but life returned just over a foot away.

  I spun around and walked back to the shaft. “Nothing in the immediate vicinity,” I called up. “I’m going to follow the tunnel for a few minutes, and see where it leads.”

  “Don’t go any further than the length of the rope,” he said. “I can’t get down there to help if trouble hits, remember.”

  “That restriction might not give us the answers we need, Commander.”

  “I’m more worried about your safety than answers right now.”

  It was a comment that had warmth stirring through me, even though I seriously doubted he’d meant it in the way my hormones were hoping. I walked forward cautiously, scanning the rough walls and dusty floors, looking for the death I could smell. The deeper I went into the tunnel, the stronger it got, but I reached the end of my tether well before I found its source. I hesitated, and then untied the rope. I might have orders to go no further, but Saska had said there were answers here to find, and find them I would.

  I dropped the rope to the ground and proceeded on.

  “Damn it, Neve,” came Trey’s voice. Whethe
r it was real or in my thoughts, I wasn’t entirely sure. “I can send a full team in to investigate the tunnel. It’s stupid to take this risk when we have a more important mission at Winterborne.”

  So I was right—he wasn’t so worried about my safety, but rather what losing me might mean to his and Kiro’s quest.

  “That’s not entirely true, and you know it.”

  Entirely…. There was a whole lot of possible hurt in that one word. It was certainly a warning that attraction was no indicator of anything stronger.

  Although as one of the stained, I should hardly be surprised at that.

  I gripped my knife tighter. The glass blade gleamed with blue fire in the blackness, making the lifeless walls glow with an almost metallic sheen. Though my footsteps were soft against the dusty soil, they seemed to echo ominously in this place. If there were anything—or anyone—living in the deeper recesses of this tunnel, they would hear my approach.

  The wind stirred, assuring me that I was alone, that none were near. Which was comforting, and yet at the same time, not.

  I slowly continued. The air grew hotter and that terrible stench stronger. Sweat trickled down my spine and stung my eyes, and it felt like I’d been creeping through this awful place forever. But Trey would have undoubtedly badgered me into returning if too much time had passed.

  In the darkness up ahead, something loomed. I paused, my heart racing in both expectation and fear. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving. And the gentle wind certainly gave no indication of danger.

  I frowned and unhooked my blaster. The knife might be the better weapon for close fighting, but right now I was more than happy to simply shoot, thereby eliminating the necessity of the latter. I crept closer, and the looming shadow revealed itself to be a smooth wall of earth and stone. A created wall, not a natural one.

  On the left-hand side of it, at the junction of the barrier, the tunnel’s wall, and the floor, was a hand.

  A small, stained hand.

  A child’s hand.

  And one that was unattached to a body.

  Horror filled me as my gaze darted back to the pile of rocks and earth. Did the rest of the child’s body lie beneath it? And did I really want to uncover it?

  The answer was a decided no, but such cowardice wouldn’t provide the answers we needed. And there were answers here to be found, I was sure of it.

  I sheathed both of my weapons and then stepped closer to the smooth wall and pressed my hands against the earth. Like the walls that surrounded me, there was no life in this smooth mound of compacted earth and rock. I pushed against it as hard as I could, but other than a few bits of dirt falling across my fingertips, it had little effect.

  Which left me with one choice. I stepped back and called in the wind. It howled past me and literally exploded the blockage into pieces, throwing me backward with the force of it and sending stones ricocheting across the darkness.

  “Neve?” Trey’s voice was faint. I really had gone deeper into this tunnel than I’d intended. “What just happened?”

  “I cleared a barrier. I’m okay.”

  I pushed up into a sitting position. The dust was so thick I tugged my shirt over my mouth to filter some of the muck from my lungs. It took forever to clear, even with the air doing its best to draw the cloud back down the tunnel, away from this area. I climbed upright and carefully edged forward. In what had been the heart of the rock fall, I discovered a body.

  But it wasn’t the body of a child.

  It was thin and long, with skeletal limbs and crusty lavender skin, and a build that oddly reminded me of an ant’s even though it was clearly humanoid. I followed the line of its remains and spotted its head.

  It was then that true horror hit me.

  I might never have seen the likes of this creature before in real life, but I’d certainly seen many a picture of them in the few history books I’d read.

  What lay before me was the remains of an Irkallan.

  10

  As I’d feared, the Irkallan weren’t in hibernation. And the fact that this body was here, lying so close to the severed hand of a stained child all but confirmed that they were not only active again, but also behind the plot to bring down Winterborne.

  I didn’t want to believe it, I really didn’t, but there was no denying it now.

  History had certainly given witness to the fact that the Irkallan could breed with humans—the staining still coming through so many of us was evidence enough of that. And the witches who’d been kidnapped had, if medical evidence and Saska’s comments were to be believed, been forcefully impregnated in an effort to produce stained children. Those children were then raised by a queen they had no choice but to obey thanks to the existence of the silver bracelets.

  There was no royalty left in Tenterra, Gallion, or Salysis. But the Irkallan lived and worked in a similar fashion to the insects they partially resembled. Not only did they exist in an apiary—which was exactly what Pyra had told me when I’d been questioning her—but there was also a caste system in place that had workers of various levels, soldiers, breeding females, and a queen who ruled them all.

  The Irkallan might have been defeated, but they hadn’t given up their dream of domination over all other races. They were merely undertaking a longer-term, camouflaged, and decidedly devious action this time.

  Freedom, help us….

  There is more to find beyond this body, the wind said.

  I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle finding anything else, but I nevertheless stepped over the Irkallan’s remains and walked on. After a dozen or so steps, I noticed a thick trail of black on the tunnel’s sandy soil. I bent and touched it. It felt hard—crusty—and though it had no scent, I had a fair idea what it was.

  Blood.

  Blood from a child whose hand had been severed, perhaps?

  I closed my eyes against the pain and horror that rose—but once again, the former was oddly distant, an echo that seemed to be coming from someone else. And it wasn’t Trey, as it definitely had a feminine edge to it.

  Could both the sensations I’d experienced in the shower and the emotions hitting me now be coming from Saska? Did the connection that had flared so very briefly between us out there on the storm-held terrace somehow linger?

  I’d never heard of such a thing, but then, I wasn’t overly versed in the ways of psychic talents or magic, even if I did possess the ability to use the latter.

  I brushed the soil from my fingers, then rose and moved onward. Twenty feet later I found the rest of the child’s remains. She was naked and lying facedown on the ground, her small body so badly stained there was only a tiny patch of pale skin on her left rump. Her right hand had been severed and a large pool of dried blood surrounded its stump. Her other hand was whole, but there was no bracelet on it—just the grime marks on her wrist to indicate where one had been.

  The Irkallan had been here. They’d retrieved the bracelets but left the bodies where they lay. There would be no remembrance of a life lived for this child, no ceremony to cast her soul on to its next journey. Nothing but inhospitable soil and a spirit destined to endlessly roam this unforgiving darkness.

  I wanted to rant and rage against the utter inhumanity of the whole thing. Wanted to weep not just for this life, this child, but for the others who were still out there, still under the control of the Irkallan.

  But such an outpouring would be little more than a waste of energy. To stop this plot—to save the children born into this madness, if it indeed it was at all possible to save them—we first had to find just how far the infiltration into Winterborne went. And, perhaps, even more urgently, just how close they’d gotten with their tunnels.

  My gaze returned to the bloody stump, and I frowned. Why was her right hand lying on one side of the rock fall and her body here on the other? Given both bracelets had been retrieved, it suggested the rock fall had happened after both her death and that of the Irkallan. But why would they bury one and not the other? Did they do so m
erely to conceal the Irkallan’s body, or did they, perhaps, want to ensure no one else could escape this way? Given the children they were breeding were capable of using the lifeless earth when our witches weren’t, they had to know any earth-capable escapee would be able to get through the barrier. So maybe the blockage was meant to stop us from realizing the full extent of the tunnel system if we did manage to get through the dead earth.

  Which left one more rather vital question—if this child had been with Saska at the time of her escape, why did she then abandon her? It made no sense—not given the heartache I’d seen in Saska over the death of her babies.

  I stepped away, and then stopped. I couldn’t leave the child here in this darkness. At the very least, she deserved to lie in earth that had the beat of life. I couldn’t guide her soul on but I could at least provide her the comfort of a resting place that wasn’t sterile and empty.

  I took a deep breath to gather my strength, and then once again called on the air. This time, there was no rush of power. The breeze that answered was gentle, filled with reverence and care. The child’s remains were carefully wrapped and then lifted from the soil. Though her body had to have been lying here for at least a week, there was little in the way of decay or bloat. Perhaps the fact we were so far underground, with no heat or insect life present, helped delay the decomposition. Or maybe her exoskeleton-like skin was keeping the process at bay. The Irkallan hadn’t stepped too far along the lines of decay, either.

  The wind turned the child around, and for the first time, I saw her face.

  It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. My breath left in a huge whoosh of air, and all I could do was stare.

  Because the child’s face was mine, right down to the stain on her cheek, although that patch lay on her right cheek rather than the left. The other slight difference was her eyes—hers were silver with a ring of brown around the iris rather than the golden of mine.

  I fell back against the wall and pressed my hands against my knees, sucking in air as I battled the urge to be sick. Horror pulsed through me, not just because of the uncanny resemblance, but because it surely meant there was a blood connection between me, Saska, or perhaps one of those other kidnapped women. There could be no other reason for this child being my mirror image.