The Rise of Fortune and Fury

by Sawyer Bennett

  Looking back into the thick current, I wonder if Lucien is still in there. Is he in pain? Is he being tortured? Or is he nothing at all?

  Shaking my head, I push those thoughts aside. My job is to get us across the river safely, and while I’m no engineer, I merely have to picture an arching bridge made of steel beams. I envision the bridge is solidly planted into the ground on this side of the river and the far side, imagining strong, lava-resistant posts supporting it all the way across.

  “Wait a minute,” Maddox exclaims. “Why don’t we just magic ourselves to the other side? Bend distance or just fly ourselves over? Carrick and I can carry you two over safely.”

  I glance at Boral, giving him a wink. I was far more prepared for this than Maddox.

  While I continue to envision my bridge, Boral explains. “The tortured souls in the river are ravenous—starved of any type of connection to the living. They will consume anything that crosses the banks. If you tried to bend distance or even fly over it, they would drag you down.”

  “We could fly really high,” Maddox suggested.

  “So can they,” Boral replied. “Of course, this is just what I’ve seen with my own eyes before I left the Underworld, but, to stay on the safe side, we should build some type of protective crossover to ensure none of us get snatched and taken down.”

  Boral had clarified this over breakfast. Apparently, Maddox wasn’t paying attention, but I also distinctly remember him flirting with Rainey, too.

  With my steel support beams imagined, I envision an enclosed tunnel that will arch across the river. Thick sheets of steel are riveted together so tightly, nothing can get through. I finish my mental creation with stairs to lead us to the apex and down to the ground on the other side, and I even add lights in the ceiling every five feet to give us sure footing.

  Closing my eyes, I access my magic, which no longer flares warmth within me, but is palpable as if I could touch it. I straighten my arms alongside my body, palms upward, and then slowly lift them. As I do, I watch my bridge creation start to take form. Not in the conventional way something might be built in the correct order, but rather it starts to materialize out of the air until it solidifies and becomes real.

  “Amazing,” Carrick murmurs as he walks to the edge of the stairs that will lead into the tunnel, sitting about twenty feet from the edge of the river. As he reaches it, something rises from the river—a form of sorts but not distinguishable as male or female. It’s made of the same reddish-gold lava without obvious appendages. Almost like an old-fashioned ghost costume that we’d wear as kids with just a sheet over us and the eyes cut out. The creature hovers, bobs on the air current above the river, and watches Carrick even though it doesn’t have eyes.

  Just waiting for one of us to cross.

  “Let’s go,” he says brusquely, and we all move onto the staircase. Maddox goes first, then Boral, me, and finally Carrick bringing up the rear. Before we enter the tube-like portion, I see that several more of those beings have risen and are leaning back slightly as they watch us.

  When we enter the steel tunnel, which means we are now crossing the river itself, something bangs into the side so violently that the bridge and tunnel groan from the strain. The thick steel I’d conjured buckles inward from whatever just slammed into the structure.

  No… not whatever.

  It was an evil soul looking for a snack.

  More banging as those creatures fling themselves against the tunnel, denting the thick metal so hard that some of the rivets start to loosen.

  “Run,” Carrick orders Maddox, who doesn’t hesitate.

  The end of the stairs at the apex provides us about twenty feet of flat steel to run across, and we pick up speed. A huge boom shakes the tunnel, something having crashed right under Boral with such force that he gets catapulted up to the ceiling before flopping back down onto his stomach. Whatever had hit there did so with such violence that the seam in the steel pops and riveted bolts slip out of their holes. Through the opening, a snakelike portion of lava creeps in and latches onto Boral’s leg. His pants catch fire, and I can hear his skin sizzle like bacon in a pan. He screams in pain. Before I can consider what to do, I’m shooting light magic at the tortured soul looking to feast.

  My light hits the slithering appendage of lava, and the thing emits an unholy shriek before letting go.

  Carrick rushes forward, hauling Boral up by the back of his coat, and we all take off running again. Maddox waits for us at the staircase that will lead down, more of the creatures hitting the tunnel, but as we start our descent, we are no longer over the actual river, and the sounds of them throwing themselves against the tunnel recede.

  We’re all out of breath when we jump down the last few steps and hit the black sand on the far bank of the river.

  When I look back over my shoulder, several of the creatures have risen, still connected to the flow of lava. They are turned toward us. Despite them not having actual faces, I can feel their hate and hostility over us crossing safely. One by one, they drop back down into the depths and, as far as I know, are swept upstream with the current.

  “You okay?” Maddox asks Boral, whose exposed skin is red and blistered.

  “It’s fine,” he mutters, giving his leg a shake. “It’ll be healed in no time.”

  “That didn’t happen to Lucien,” Carrick murmurs thoughtfully as he stares at the river. “No creatures pulled him down, and he didn’t burn at all.”

  “Because he was a demi-god?” I hazard a guess.

  “They definitely wanted a piece of me,” he points out, the first creature rising when Carrick had come near the bridge.

  “Regardless,” Boral says, turning my way. “Your bridge endured and got us over safely. Well done.”

  “Yes, well done,” Carrick agrees, eyes shining with pride. “And I’m wondering if you’d like the honor of trying to open the veil into the Underworld?”

  I knew I could open veils, but they had been to Faere where I’d already been before. This was something new, yet I was eager to try, as evidenced by how exuberantly I nod my head.

  “Then give it a go,” he says, sweeping his hand toward the area roughly where we’d cross into the Underworld.

  I close my eyes for a second, imagine my power and having unlimited abilities to do whatever I wanted at my disposal.

  When I open them, I envision ripping into the veil and commanding the Underworld to expose itself to me.

  And it does.

  CHAPTER 7

  Finley

  The fables, stories, and myths of Hell were nothing like I envisioned when I visited the Underworld in my dream. The same holds true now as we step through the veil into what seems to be a monstrously large cavern that rises so high into the air that I can’t see the top—just generalized darkness that could resemble a night sky.

  I always envisioned Hell would be an inferno of flames and smoke, echoes of screaming souls reverberating, and the stench of death all around.

  There’s none of that.

  Yes, The Pit off to the left glows orange and throws off heat, but it’s bearable. The circumference is not much wider than the Crimson River, so maybe at least two hundred feet or more in diameter. It’s still difficult to comprehend the river’s directional flow, especially on this side of the veil. From the depths of The Pit, the river defies gravity and flows up and out of it before turning parallel to the ground and heading in the direction of Micah’s realm, where it seems to cut off right where the veil exists.

  I see why Boral brought us in on this side of the river because had we come in on the other side, we would have been trapped by sloping hills of rock and shale that encircle that portion of The Pit. It provides a horseshoe-shaped wall. When I examine it more closely, I see that cages are built into it. Square holes cut into the side, covered with thick bars, but it’s so dark inside that I can’t tell what’s being held captive.

  “Demon experiments,” Boral says, and I turn to him. He nods his chin up at
the individual prisons—hundreds and hundreds. “Kymaris feeds them the most vile souls that get sent to the Underworld. She then trains them for her personal use.”

  I can’t stifle the tremor that moves up my spine.

  Boral seeks to reassure me, obviously either seeing or sensing my reaction. “Don’t worry. They don’t roam free in the cities. They mostly reside in Kymaris’ castle or the wastelands between cities. But make no mistake, she’ll free them all when the veil comes down.”

  He then points in the opposite direction, a wide stone road meandering over some low-slung hills of stone and dirt. Dead trees and bushes dot the landscape, and it’s clear they were never actually green and fertile. Just dead from the start.

  Kymaris’ black castle rises—black obsidian with the orange glow of the Pit shimmering in the reflection. It’s nothing but tall, pointed spires of varying heights, probably only about half as large as Nimeyah’s castle, but, oddly… I like the architecture of it better. It’s not gaudy or flamboyant… just ominous as one would expect the Queen of the Underworld’s castle to be.

  “This is the way to Otaxis,” Boral says, turning toward another path that cuts the space between The Pit and the castle. It curves around a craggy hill where I can’t see what’s on the other side, but given my last visit here, I’m sure the city is right there. I remember being on the opposite side of Otaxis and seeing the glow of The Pit from my vantage point up on a cliff, so I know they are nearby.

  We all take a moment to discard the cold-weather gear, dumping it behind some rocks. We won’t be leaving this way, rather opening up the veil to lead us straight back to the condo as long as we are safe to do so. With our weapons in hand—me with my whip, Carrick and Maddox with swords, and Boral with long daggers holstered to each thigh, we make our way along the road to Otaxis.

  As suspected, the massive city comes into view when we round the bend just the way I remember it from my dream.

  Clusters of buildings built of mud and stone are separated by crude streets heavily lined with street vendors. The coloring of the city looks different, though, and I’m not sure if it’s because The Pit is at our back, casting light from behind us, or if my dream wasn’t in technicolor, but there’s a yellowish haze tinted slightly red hanging in the air. When I tip my head back, the cavern sky above us is still pitch black, but ahead of us and immediately surrounding the buildings, there’s an almost sulfurous glow that hangs heavy everywhere.

  No gates seal off the city. Just hills and mounds of rocks to the left and right of the road that enters the bustle of Otaxis beyond.

  Boral stops us before we enter, leading us off to the side of the road and behind an outcropping of rocks for privacy. I’m still wearing a zip-up hoodie, and Boral pointedly pulls it over my head and tugs it low over my forehead. “This isn’t going to disguise the fact you’re human if a Dark Fae takes a good look at you, but it will help to hide the bright beacon of your hair.”

  He then looks to Maddox and Carrick. “Keep her in between you two. If anyone approaches us, let me do the talking.”

  This is just a repeat of what Boral told us yesterday. He said that while Kymaris was the supreme ruler of the entire Underworld, the cities were run by the most criminal and corrupt Dark Fae. He likened them to the mob bosses who extort businesses for their personal gain and kill those that oppose their governance.

  When I asked him about the royal Dark Fae, he merely said they rarely left the castle grounds, abandoning the cities to a sort of organized chaos under these mobster-like rulers.

  “Ready to try to contact Zora?” Boral asks.

  As decided, we’re going to try to make things easier by seeing if Zora will agree to a meeting before we go searching for her.

  I nod and take a deep breath. Boral, Carrick, and Maddox face me, expressions guarded. I let the air out and prepare to close my eyes, but movement behind my companions startles me.

  My eyes flare wide as a huge Dark Fae stands there, dressed head to toe in forest green leather and sporting massive wings folded behind his back but which I can see the rounded crests over his shoulders. The feathers are inky black and so glossy, they shimmer with a bluish color. I quickly duck my head so the hood shadows most of my face.

  Boral, Carrick, and Maddox, reading my facial expression, immediately wheel around with their weapons drawn to face what surprised me.

  The Dark Fae doesn’t even twitch but merely crosses his arms over his chest and plants his legs wide. He’s between us and the entrance to the city, and his message is clear.

  We’re not going in.

  “Who are you?” Carrick demands of the fae, but honestly… I only have half an ear on him. I’m fascinated with the fae’s wings. I thought they had all been stripped when they were tossed from Heaven.

  I’m also fascinated by how uncannily gorgeous this winged man is. He’s got dark blond hair that’s cut extremely short to his scalp all the way around and has the perfect amount of facial scruff to make him look roguish. His blue eyes are dark as denim, yet seem cold as ice. While his entire body is covered in leather, I can tell by the bulges here and there that he’s incredibly muscular and from the way he stands facing off with two demi-gods and another Dark Fae, that he’s confident in his abilities.

  “My name is Amell,” the Dark Fae answers in a deep, mellow voice that has just a hint of gravel to it, making him sound sexy and dangerous at the same time.

  Enough, Finley, I scream internally. Quit drooling over the evil Underworlder.

  “I am the ruler here,” he continues, arms still crossed over his chest. “You didn’t possibly think you could come through the veil and not be noticed?”

  Amell leans slightly over to look past Carrick and lock eyes with me. “Especially bringing a human with you.”

  “We had hoped we wouldn’t be noticed,” Maddox quips, giving Amell a wink.

  His message is clear. He’s not intimidated in the slightest by a Dark Fae, even if he is the ruler here.

  “I assume you are ruler in your queen’s absence,” Carrick says to Amell, and that catches the fae by surprise. Carrick seizes on it. “Yes, we know Kymaris is in the Earth realm.”

  “And what do you hope to gain by coming here?” Amell asks defensively, his arms now uncrossing and hanging loosely to his side, where he has a huge sword attached to his hip. He refuses to answer Carrick’s assumption he’s covering for Kymaris while she’s off conquering our realm.

  Carrick and Maddox exchange a glance. It’s a hesitation that tells me they can’t quite decide if they want to be upfront or take the Dark Fae out.

  They could easily do it between them, but would that bring more?

  Do others know we were here already?

  Boral instinctively inches closer to me, and the tension emanating from Carrick and Maddox is palpable.

  Without much thought to what the consequences might be, I step forward, twisting slightly to move past Boral and push my way in between Carrick and Maddox. The men don’t try to pull me back, but both put their hands near their weapons.

  Tipping my head back to look at the Dark Fae, I lift my hands and pull my hoodie back to reveal myself. “I’m here to find my sister, Zora. Perhaps you know where she is?”

  Amell’s face goes almost paper white as he takes me in. His eyes move over me, focusing on my eyes for a moment before he reaches out to touch a lock of my hair.

  Carrick emits a low growl that stops Amell’s hand from moving any closer, and it falls back down to his side.

  “Red,” Amell murmurs in amazement. “Yours is red, and hers is white.”

  “You know Zora?” I exclaim with excitement. “Can you take me to her?”

  His gaze snaps up to mine, his expression hardening. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”

  Shit.

  That’s downright accusatory anger I hear from him. He knows Zora, and he would not have expected her to keep this from him.

  I remember when I had asked Zora before if she
had someone who cared for her or she trusted, and she said she had.

  Was this him? Out of all the Dark Fae in the Underworld, could the one who cared for Zora be next in command under Kymaris?

  If so, I’m not sure that bodes well for any of us.

  Still, we’re here and I’m not leaving without her, so I just go on my hunch. “I’m able to talk to Zora through our bond as identical twins.”

  Amell’s jaw locks so hard that I can see a tic in the corner.

  “When we last talked, she said she had someone here who cared for her,” I say hesitantly. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

  It’s a stretch because that’s not exactly what Zora said. I had asked if someone cared for her, and she said she had someone she trusted.

  Amell doesn’t answer but moves his gaze to Carrick and Maddox, flits it over to Boral, and then brings it back to me. “How is it that a human can employ two demi-gods and a Dark Fae to bring her into the Underworld in search of her sister?”

  Somehow, I think lying to this creature is not the way to go. But telling him the truth would reveal secrets we’ve held close to the vest so Kymaris would be in the dark.

  Ultimately, I go with my gut instinct and pray I’m saying the right thing.

  “It’s been prophesied that Kymaris would come to Earth and open the veil. It’s also been prophesied that I’m the key to thwarting it.”

  Amell blinks, then barks out an amused, disbelieving laugh. When I hold his stare, the smile slides from his face.

  I throw in some tiny lies with partial truths. “I found out about the changeling ceremony and that I had a twin sister here. Somehow, through our bond, we can communicate. We’ve only done it a few times, and Zora has been less than open with me. In fact, she doesn’t seem to want to have anything to do with me.”

  “Then why are you here?” he growls impatiently.