by K T Munson
“Who are you?” he demanded, his lip curling in a snarl as he spun around and sliced at the air where Tisiphone had been. She stayed firmly on his back.
“Behind you,” she whispered, and he attacked again. It was fruitless. She was still on his back as he thrashed around, though it seemed that he couldn’t feel her.
“She Who Walks Behind,” the woman in the chair whispered.
Sweat broke out on Eriotes’s brow. It glistened as he tried to back away, unaware that Tisiphone was still there. Both her hands were now curled around his shoulder. He swallowed heavily as he kept looking around for her.
“Where are you? Show yourself!” he yelled, his voice quaking with fear.
“Do you want to know what it felt like?” Tisiphone hissed as hundreds of cuts appeared simultaneously on his body.
Eriotes gave a cry and fell to his feet. The two conscious women watched. Neither turned away and Kerrigan couldn’t either. Tisiphone leaned toward him, looking down on him with a combination of lust and loathing. Kerrigan understood deeply that Tisiphone desired his anguish as she enacted vengeance, but she loathed him for what he was. Though Kerrigan wanted to turn away, she forced herself to watch. She wanted him to pay.
“No more!” he cried.
Tisiphone reached down into Eriotes’s back. He bucked and fought her a moment. Tisiphone’s bat wings fanned out, and she bent her legs. She pushed off the ground and lifted him into the air. They went flying together toward the rafters before Tisiphone landed on one of the beams.
“You don’t repent, and you never shall.” Tisiphone held him out, her hand still in his back. “There is only one fate for you, and that is death.”
He fell from her hold and screamed all the way to the floor. Kerrigan did look away then; it reminded her too much of the suicides in Himota. She felt sick as she listened to the sickening crush of bone, though she believed he deserved the vengeance that Tisiphone wrought.
“Live a good life, a just life, and you shall not suffer the same fate,” Tisiphone said, and Kerrigan finally looked back. She was speaking to the two conscious women as she crossed the room. The woman in the chair leaned back but didn’t say anything. She nodded as Tisiphone reached a hand down and severed her bindings.
Tisiphone began to transform back into her shining self. “Remember these words.” Her voice echoed around the room as she shed her other form like a second skin. Eriotes’s sister looked around, blinking as she reached up to push the rope aside. The sister slowly got to her feet and hobbled on weak knees toward the other women.
A soul began to rise from Eriotes’s body, and Tisiphone took hold of it. Kerrigan saw the rest of Eriotes appear. Tisiphone had him by the throat. His soul shimmered blue as it struggled in her grasp, clawing at her to no avail.
“The storm is passing,” Tisiphone told Kerrigan as Eriotes writhed in her grasp. “It is time to go.”
Her wings went wide and she took to the sky. Kerrigan felt the rush of air, the slight resistance of the building, before they were out in the open again, heading toward the cloud as it moved further north. Kerrigan worried about what she was getting into.
She Who Walks Behind was the avenger. Kerrigan had always thought it was a story to scare children into being good—a tale about a creature with bat wings that came up from the Netherworld to take bad children away. If you did something unjust to a person, she came and took your soul to eternal pain, just like Babayaga, who took naughty children and Soul Collectors who made baby killers suffer. As she watched Eriotes’s soul float mindlessly next to Jinq, Kerrigan wondered what other stories were true and how many figures from them she would be meeting.
Chapter 31: Morhaven
As Ethandirill was hauled to his feet before his brother, he was careful to keep the worry from his face. Instead, he filled it with anger. His rage was fueled by hopelessness, and he knew nothing of Nanette’s fate. He didn’t want her to come back through the gate while Arawn was there, but he also wanted to know if she was alive—and if Elisabeth was alive.
When Ethandirill finally lifted his head, Nauberon appeared annoyed. Upon further inspection Ethandirill determined he was downright displeased. It was strange. He had only two emotions, neutral and angry. Dissatisfied was new.
He had expected an open court. Instead it was empty, not a soul in the room besides the King and his guards. Not everyone would have gone on the Wild Hunt. Many would take the opportunity, but some didn’t have the power to go to the planets like Ethandirill, who could have used portals made from runes and his own blood. He had the power to ride the Wild Hunt, but not the will. His only yearning was Nanette. The hunt would not give him that.
“Leave us,” Nauberon commanded, to Ethandirill’s surprise.
One by one the guards left until all that remained was a strained silence between brothers. Unsure of what would come next, Ethandirill inspected every perfect line of his half-brother’s face.
Nauberon’s finger tapped against the arm of the throne. “I did not think that you would be so foolish as to give Elsariel a means to traverse the gates.”
“My guide is here,” Ethandirill told him, “just as it was when I left here. Speak to Babayaga.”
Nauberon’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think me a fool? Babayaga has no love for the girl.”
They faced each other down, neither willing to bend. The strain of decades drew taut between them in the silence. Nauberon’s shadow seemed to grow around him, matched only by his fury.
Whatever words were going to pass Nauberon’s lips were stilled by the old woman’s voice. “I gave it to her.”
Babayaga sat in a hollowed out tree stump, the roots moving like spider legs, carrying her forward. Her wiry white hair was exactly as Ethandirill remembered it, as was her crooked smile. Apparently she had decided to come instead of waiting to be summoned. She was not one to simply give anything away, and everyone knew it; she had struck a deal in exchange for something Babayaga wanted.
Nauberon’s eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what, exactly?”
“I do not share my deals,” Babayaga tutted at her eldest grandson.
Nauberon’s fingers curled around the throne’s arm. Ethandirill turned slightly when he saw them tighten. He was not pleased, and though his face didn’t show it, his hands did. Ethandirill knew what was coming next.
A darkness rose up behind Nauberon like a shadow as he stood. His voice was thrice as loud as multiple voices layered themselves into a single powerful voice. “You shall not mock me, Babayaga. You took what did not belong to you, and you traded it without my consent. You did not give her your ability to use the gate, you gave her mine.”
His voice echoed around the room, and Ethandirill tried not to cringe. That was the power of the Det Morian Clan. Their voices could command and overpower. They could create or destroy with a single word. The power of words is what gave them the power over all within the confines of Morhaven. It was why Nauberon had covered Ethandirill’s body with tattoos. The markings suppressed his abilities so that he didn’t have a voice to challenge Nauberon. He had made the markings himself with the force of his voice. Ethandirill’s skin itched at the memory.
Nauberon took a step forward. “Tell me your bargain with Elsariel!” he commanded.
“The girl was specific about our deal,” Babayaga snapped. Most men would have cowered. “Her compliance to my wishes in exchange for the King’s object to navigate the Nowhere Gate.”
Clever, Ethandirill thought.
Ethandirill had a feeling that Elisabeth didn’t know that the most powerful of the Divine Court could visit worlds that were not directly connected to the Netherworld. The Det Mor Clan were not ones to share secrets, and they had them in abundance. There were ones that even Ethandirill probably didn’t know.
Nauberon studied Babayaga closely, and his shadow shrunk, receding until it was its normal size. He waited until it was all but gone before he spoke again. “What wishes did you have, dear grandmother?”
King Nauberon’s words were as tight as his lips and with good reason. There were few things that Babayaga would risk incurring the King’s wrath for, but there was nothing that mattered more to Babayaga then the Det Morian bloodline.
Babayaga’s eyes narrowed, and Ethandirill knew she would not proceed with caution. “You were foolish to bring her here. I have removed her as a temptation. My only wish to keep you safe from those that would use this weakness against you.”
A half-blood would have put their position and their bloodline at risk. It didn’t matter that Elisabeth was the most honorable and clever person that Ethandirill had ever met. All that mattered was that her blood was tainted by those who dwelled on the planets. Apparently his grandmother would do anything to prevent such a union.
“Be careful, Babayaga,” he said, his voice as tight as a whip. “Do not forget what happened to the last family member who tried to use the bloodline against me.”
Babayaga’s eyes flicked over to Ethandirill, who had remained as quiet and unmoving as he could during the battle of wits. Without his voice, he was no better than a mortal. Were it not for the blood in his veins, the Netherworld would have claimed his life long ago.
“You have ruled uncontested for too long,” Babayaga told him. Ethandirill tried not to cringe at her words. “You have grown weak and forgetful. I say these things to remind you that you are a Det Morian. You could command the universe with a single word, though you have not used this power for anything in decades.”
Surprisingly, the King showed no anger. “Every word we use comes at a price. Every time we enact truth by force, there are repercussions for our actions. You of all people should know that, grandmother. You may not share my power, but have seen it used more than others.”
A flash of pain came over Babayaga’s old features. The wrinkles in her face suddenly seemed deeper, and the bags of flesh under her eyes doubled. She’d aged visibly before his eyes, and he knew why. Nauberon had been young, not yet one hundred, when the usurper known as Kor had first emerged. Chaos and death had reigned for many years while they’d played out a slow battle. Most people believed King Nauberon had killed his father for the throne and power. They underestimated the Det Mor Clan. They didn’t understand the love of family or the difficulties in killing within one’s bloodline. Instead, they’d decided the easy answer must be simplest—that Nauberon had killed his father for the throne. Alas, Ethandirill knew the truth.
He remembered the day their father had gone insane, remembered when their father had to use his voice to take the life of Usurper Kor. Battles of the mind rarely had a winner, especially when so evenly matched. Although King Fanvara had been victorious, he had not come back whole. A part of his sanity had been lost, causing him to have Ethandirill’s mother beheaded, certain that she was plotting against him.
She might not have been Nauberon’s mother, but Queen Ona had been kind and had raised them both as brothers after the first queen had died so young and unexpectedly. Nauberon and Ethandirill had faced their father and used their powers to make him stop. They could not live under a king who would kill a kind woman without reason or thought. After Ona’s death, when Fanvara had turned his paranoid attentions on an innocent caretaker, Nauberon had tried to stop his father the only way he’d known how—using the same curse that now covered Ethandirill’s body. King Fanvara had used the last of himself to stop the words from taking hold and striping him of his power. He had decided death was better than silence.
That day, Nauberon had lost his youthfulness and became king. It was a day that haunted Ethandirill. He could never forget his mother’s beheaded body or his father’s suicide. Worst of all, Nauberon had come from it a colder creature.
Babayaga knew her son, Fanvara, had changed after the battle and knew that it had led to his death. She didn’t know their secret, though. She didn’t know what it had cost them that day. Once they had been brothers, and now they were at ends. Ethandirill could not forget, and Nauberon could not forgive their father. In a way, it haunted them both.
The silence of the room had spread like oil. Ethandirill worried about who would cause a spark. Finally, Babayaga broke the silence. “She agreed to leave Morhaven to get what she wanted.”
“You said wishes,” Nauberon reminded her. “What else?”
Babayaga pursed her lips as though she wanted to keep the words in. “To cease contact with you entirely.”
“Did she agree?” Nauberon asked calmly, but Ethandirill could see tightness in his jaw.
“She did, unless a life hung in the balance.” Ethandirill saw her lips twitch as she spoke. Babayaga hadn’t wanted to agree to any contact but had been desperate enough to agree to the caveat Elisabeth had presented. Again, Ethandirill had to smile at Elisabeth’s cleverness—she had given herself a way around the promise if things ever became dire.
Ethandirill could hear the wind howling as the Wild Hunt continued. It would continue across all the worlds until the light of the Netherworld began to fade. It had been fifty years since the last Wild Hunt—not since the Black King had one taken place. Nauberon had taken a small party including Arawn to destroy the last of the Shadow Clan and remove the gate from their clutches. Arawn must be pleased to hunt again and roam the planets without barrier. They would remember the Netherworld now for generations and would know to fear it.
Nauberon nodded and stood. “Babayaga, you are confined to your room until the navigation tool is returned to me. The Mystic Elevator shall be removed from your possession. Guards.”
“Might I make a suggestion?” Babayaga asked sweetly. The words immediately put Ethandirill on high alert.
“You may, but they will be your last words until this wrong is corrected,” Nauberon said.
His many robes were wrapped around him and the crown on top of his head suddenly seemed harsher, as though the branches were darker and older. The berries no longer seemed as red. His temper and words were wilting things around him.
“Send Prince Ethandirill to retrieve the girl,” Babayaga told them as guards entered and stood ready to escort the old woman to her room.
All eyes turned to him, and he instinctually shifted away from their gaze. Ethandirill had become accustomed to living in silence and solitude. He was no longer practiced at concealing emotions or being the center of attention. Yet, he suddenly realized, he was the exact person who should go after Elisabeth. He was likely the only person who would ensure that the watch was retrieved and Elisabeth was brought back to safety.
“Take her to her room and remove the Mystic Elevator,” King Nauberon ordered.
Once the doors closed and they were alone, Ethandirill didn’t hesitate. “I shall find them and return your pendant.”
“Do you truly believe you can?” Nauberon asked in a tone of disbelief.
“If you return my voice.” Ethandirill shifted to face him fully.
Brother stared at brother. Ethandirill’s voice had been taken when he had refused fidelity and his right to stand as heir beside Nauberon. They had argued until finally Ethandirill tried to use his power against Nauberon, tried to convince him to choose another heir. It had not been Ethandirill’s brightest moment. The result had been exile and silence. Ethandirill believed it had been to force his hand, but apparently Nauberon didn’t know him as well as he once thought.
“Will you consent to be my heir?” Nauberon asked.
“No,” Ethandirill told him without hesitation, “but that does not mean I am not your brother. Babayaga is right—you are not as feared as you once were. Without a way to navigate the Nowhere Gate, you are in a dire position. Allow me to help you.”
A wary expression came over Nauberon’s face. “Why would you offer?”
“I am still a Det Morian. Regardless of my unwillingness to take the mantle as your heir, I am still of your blood, and my position is safer with you alive.” Ethandirill held nothing back.
“Temporary reprieve.” Nauberon’s voice boomed, and Etha
ndirill felt his skin tingle. He lifted an arm and pushed back the sleeve of his shirt. The tattoos on his body were lighter now. The edges were still black, but the rest of each was a pale gray.
“The black of the tattoos will fill the space slowly, but you will be able to use your voice until it does. Use it wisely,” Nauberon said. Ethandirill glanced up. His brother could be a glacier. Sometimes, however, the glacier shifted in the right direction.
Ethandirill gave his brother a nod. “I shall not fail you in this.”
King Nauberon’s cloak spread out behind him and his crown crested his perfect hair as he came down from the throne. He walked toward the exit, leaving Ethandirill to his quest. In the final moment before he left, he turned back. “Your room is as it was,” he said in a voice that made Ethandirill remember the man beneath the crown, “and you shall find your guide there.”
Chapter 32: Nowhere
Nanette held tight to Elisabeth as she led her through the labyrinth of gates. Elisabeth’s other hand was aloft, the charm leading them toward Ki. It glowed brighter as they turned down another row of gates. A barrage of colors glowed off the gate in what looked like a watery rainbow by their feet. All of them were doorways to other worlds and uncharted planets—and on one of them was Ki.
“Do you think one of these gates leads to Ashlad?” Nanette asked as she scanned their surroundings.
“I have the sneaking suspicion that the gate my papa guards is one of these—or at least one like these.” Elisabeth moved the charm side to side before turning between two gates.
“How do they get these gates out?” Nanette asked, glancing back to where she thought they had entered through the Netherworld.
Elisabeth looked back with an amused half smile. “That’s knowledge that I doubt King Nauberon would share. I imagine only that the king has the power to bring a gate out of this place. The Det Mor Clan love their secrets.”
“When was the last gate moved?” Nanette asked as Elisabeth paced them back and forth between two gates.