Into The Crooked Place

by Alexandra Christo

  Wesley jumped in front of the beam and his mind splintered.

  He fell to his knees.

  The realms weren’t solid anymore. They were made of nightmares that ran like water, and the air was screaming at him.

  Wesley couldn’t move.

  Tavia was somewhere, yelling. Wesley saw blasts of magic erupt around him. She was fighting off the Crafters, but he couldn’t focus on where, or move his head to search the room for her.

  Zekia knelt in front of him and Wesley wanted to yell at her to get away. He wanted to move—to reach for his gun or his magic—but he was paralyzed.

  The realms were disappearing and he was too.

  Zekia’s magic was poison in his mind.

  “I suppose Saxony was wrong,” Zekia said. “You still have some of those lives left.”

  Wesley found his voice. Or a voice that might have been his. It tasted odd in his mouth.

  “Get away,” he said. “You’re not you.”

  Neither are you.

  “Who would you like me to be, then?” Zekia asked.

  Wesley wasn’t sure what that meant, but then Zekia’s fingers pressed to his temple and a shrill siren broke out in his mind.

  Her face shifted.

  Wesley recoiled.

  The noise was too much and he could barely keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t let Zekia out of his sight. Wesley couldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment. He couldn’t even—

  Wesley blinked.

  When he opened his eyes, Zekia was gone and someone new crouched in front of him.

  He squinted.

  Everything was so bright.

  He blinked again and the person came into focus, eyes like midnight and a crooked half smile.

  Tavia.

  Wesley’s busker. His friend, if she deigned to be that. His something else, if she lived long enough to kill him for thinking it.

  Her smile was like sunlight.

  She placed a hand on his cheek. “Wesley,” she said.

  Her voice was too level and smooth. But it was her. It had to be her.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  Wesley nodded. He’d do anything.

  “I need you to run. Right now. Run.”

  And so he did.

  Suddenly Wesley could stand. The room was a blur, but Tavia’s face was clear, and though the air wailed in his ears, he could hear her voice through it all. Only her voice.

  Whatever was happening, they had to escape. Wesley wasn’t sure why they had come here in the first place. They needed to get back to Creije. It seemed odd he ever thought to leave.

  What was so important about some island?

  Tavia took Wesley’s hand.

  It was warmer and softer than he remembered. He couldn’t feel her callouses or her scars, but she squeezed against his grip and pulled him across the floor and he followed.

  They had to run.

  They had to be safe from whatever was happening.

  They needed to go home, together.

  If they ran, things would be okay, and Wesley found that he didn’t so much mind the thought of running. It had always bothered him before, but now he liked not having to stay and see things through. It felt good not to fight.

  Shadows gathered like a storm in front of them and Tavia’s grip on Wesley tightened.

  Not shadows. A gateway. An escape.

  Something nagged in Wesley’s mind. Something he was forgetting. Something he was supposed to do.

  In the distance, someone screamed his name.

  Wesley looked to Tavia and she smiled and suddenly he forgot again.

  Whatever the thing was, it couldn’t have been important.

  It didn’t matter now.

  It wasn’t safe and they needed to run.

  Tavia tugged Wesley forward.

  Hand in hand, they jumped into the darkness.

  KARAM TORE THROUGH THE castle like a tornado, with a handful of Grankan Crafters like magical shadows by her side.

  For every neck she snapped and every knife she plunged into the hearts of one of the Kingpin’s people, the Crafters brought lightning down as if it were raindrops, throwing blasts of energy that tore through bone.

  They weren’t pacifists anymore and they certainly weren’t losing.

  There was no saving the Kingpin’s people, like they thought. Not all of them. Some had given up after the time charges, but so many—too many—were past that point. They didn’t want to be rescued. They wanted to be with the Kingpin, in the new realm he sought to create.

  Chaos raged outside the castle as Arjun and their army overthrew Ashwood’s. Crafters on both sides fueled by the power the shadow moon brought. It was mania. And as Wesley’s magical tech conquered, the seas began battering the island, no longer afraid of its might.

  Karam didn’t know what had happened, but something had shifted after the time charges and she hauled ass into the castle to find out what.

  Maybe Ashwood was dead. Maybe her friends were. Maybe they weren’t winning after all.

  Karam ripped open the doors to the throne room.

  At first there was nothing but the bright flashing of lights and a dull pulsing sound, but then Karam saw Tavia.

  She saw Asees, hunched over a semiconscious Saxony, wincing as charm after charm laid assault to the barely solid protection field around them.

  Crafters. Three of them trying to break down the walls Saxony was barely holding up.

  Karam didn’t have time to wonder just what in the spirits Asees was doing here and why the edges of her clothes were singed. She’d figure that out later.

  Karam clutched her knives and prepared to unleash on the Crafters.

  She charged forward in a battle cry, throwing a blade through the air that struck one of them straight between the eyes.

  The Grankan Crafters followed, striking spell after spell.

  “Hei sukna,” Karam said.

  Cover me.

  One of the Crafters nodded and flung a protection shield her way, letting it follow her in a tunnel as Karam sprinted toward the Kingpin’s once-prisoners.

  Every spell and charm they fired at her ricocheted and sprung back to them.

  The two remaining enemies darted backward and Karam held out a hand to signal her Crafters to stand down. Whatever the Kingpin’s people had done to Saxony, Karam was going to make them pay.

  She twisted her knives in either hand.

  The first Crafter spun aside, but the blade grazed his shoulder and he swung back around to crack his elbow into the side of Karam’s temple.

  He was fast.

  But she was faster.

  She didn’t need the protection shield.

  She was going to make them bleed.

  Karam slashed her blade across the chest of the male Crafter. Blood sprayed onto her cheek.

  His female companion grabbed Karam’s wrist as soon as she drew blood, twisting it so hard that Karam almost crumbled to her knees.

  Instead, she pushed back. Pressing her wrist farther into the woman’s grip and thrusting her body sideways. Her legs cartwheeled into the air and wrapped around the woman’s neck.

  She fell to the floor, Karam’s thighs like a vice around her throat.

  She twisted. Karam heard the crack—heard the man scream in grief—and then catapulted herself back up.

  The man hissed and an orb of light burned in his hand.

  “I’m going to burn you from the inside out,” he spat. The orb grew brighter in his hands. “I’m going to liquefy every organ you have.”

  He roared and threw himself at Karam.

  She grunted as the Crafter landed on top of her.

  It was the second time today she’d let a mad creature bring her to the ground. Karam was hoping not to make a habit of it.

  The Crafter brought his elbow to her chin and Karam’s teeth shuddered. He raised his arm, the light in his hand bright enough to make her wince. Karam grabbed onto his neck with both hands and broug
ht her forehead hard against his.

  The Crafter rolled off her, clutching his face.

  Karam had enough practice to know exactly the right angle to hit so her opponent’s head would crack open like a coconut.

  She stood over the man. The light was still inside his hand, shining like a beacon. She crushed it with her foot and heard the snap of bone as the light extinguished.

  Saxony was still slumped on the floor in Tavia’s arms. Karam walked toward them.

  Alive or not, that Crafter was finished.

  “He is yours,” she said to the Grankans. “Take him prisoner or leave him to rot.”

  Karam crouched beside Saxony and stroked a curl from her face. Blood fell from her ears, disappearing beneath her collar. Her face looked ashen and the ends of her coiled hair were charred.

  “You look awful,” Saxony croaked.

  Karam smirked. “I defeated a shadow demon. What is your excuse?”

  “Her sister tried to kill her,” Tavia said.

  “Zekia?” Karam asked. “Where is she? She was not—”

  Karam stopped short. Not daring to think it.

  “Do not worry,” Asees said. “She is alive. Unfortunately.”

  Karam’s breath returned and her clenched muscles loosened somewhat.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Arjun was beside himself. Your bat said the Kin was attacked.”

  The moment Karam asked, she realized she already knew the answer.

  “Ashwood took you,” she said.

  “More than that. He made her into one of his little minions,” Tavia said. “Thanks to someone.”

  Karam had never seen Tavia look at Saxony the way she was now. It seemed akin to hatred, or something so similar.

  “I was not a minion,” Asees sneered. “He had me under strange magic. It was as though he could—”

  “Control your thoughts,” Tavia finished. “Yeah, we know.”

  Spirits damn, Arjun was not going to be happy when he found out.

  “What happened to the Crafters loyal to the Kingpin?” Asees asked. “Did you kill them all?”

  She winced when she said it, which was enough out of character that Karam felt a little hurt.

  Kill all of the Kingpin’s Crafters?

  She was a warrior, not a murderer.

  “After the time charges went off, we were able to get the upper hand,” Karam said. “The elixir wore off almost instantly. I believe the charges disrupted the magic somehow. The Crafters who were enthralled came to their senses, but some had fallen prey to the Kingpin’s twisted logic. Those who did not surrender fled to the far end of the island once the shadow moon came. They were too outnumbered to fight. We did not chase them.”

  Karam hadn’t seen the point. They weren’t here to slaughter everyone. The Kingpin was the only person who needed to die. As for the others, they had only come to save those who wanted to be saved.

  Karam looked around the room, noticing a sudden absence. “Where is Wesley?” she asked.

  “He escaped,” Tavia said. She kept her eyes on Saxony, blazing. “With Zekia.”

  Karam’s eyes widened. “What?”

  It didn’t make sense for Wesley to flee, let alone with Saxony’s sister. He had come to kill the Kingpin, just like the rest of them, and though his intentions weren’t anywhere near as noble, they were set in stone.

  Wesley was going to take Ashwood’s place—he’d agreed it with Vice Doyen—and he would not just throw away those ambitions.

  “Zekia was with the Kingpin,” Tavia explained. “Willingly.”

  In Karam’s arms, Saxony went rigid. She didn’t speak.

  Tavia gestured to an empty space on the upper ledge, where the bodies of the Kingpin’s Crafters were sprawled.

  “His throne was there,” she said. “The Kingpin escaped after you set off the charges. The time weakened him, like it was separating him from his magic. Zekia and Wesley fled after and the gateway closed. As soon as they jumped through, the shadows disappeared.” She looked to the floor and blinked. “They were just gone.”

  “You think that our leader is a traitor?” Karam asked.

  Though she knew that Wesley was not a man to be trusted, she couldn’t quite believe he would just abandon them all in the midst of war.

  Tavia opened her mouth to say something, but it was Saxony’s voice that croaked through first.

  “Zekia is an Intuitcrafter,” she said. “She can get inside your head to control your thoughts. It’s one of the reasons she was destined to be Liege. Intuitcrafters are the rarest of our kind. If they’re good, they can use their gifts to have unrivaled empathy. Coupled with foresight, it makes for a wise Liege.”

  “And if the Crafter is bad?” Karam asked.

  “Then hope whatever gods you believe in are on your side.”

  Tavia shook her head, like it didn’t make sense. “Zekia was inside Wesley’s mind before tonight. It was how they met. Are you saying she was controlling him, even then?”

  Saxony shuffled upward to a sitting position, until her head rested against Karam’s heart. “No,” she said, wincing with the movement. “That wasn’t control. It was shared consciousness.”

  “For the love of the Many Gods, speak Uskhanyan.”

  Saxony’s breath stumbled and a tear slipped from her eye.

  “Zekia used to get inside my head all the time when we were kids, because we shared a blood connection. If she was inside Wesley’s, then it’s because they share something too.”

  “Like what?” Tavia asked.

  “A specialty,” Saxony said. “Wesley has true magic. He’s an Intuitcrafter too.”

  Tavia looked paler than usual. “That’s not possible.”

  “I wish it wasn’t,” Saxony said. “But Wesley’s blood was never supposed to be black and I’ve seen him use spells. And during the fight with Ashwood he—” She broke off, like she almost couldn’t bear to say it. “He had staves,” she said. “I saw them appear after the shadow moon.”

  Asees sucked in a breath. “Our spell did not make him into a vessel,” she said, finally understanding. The regret in her voice was crisp. “We only roused power that was already his.”

  “How could Wesley not know?” Karam asked.

  “It is a forbidden spell,” Asees explained. “One that uses a blood sacrifice to suppress Crafter magic. There are not many Kins who would risk such a thing.”

  Saxony nodded. “Whatever Kin Wesley is from was willing to kill to hide him from the world. And if Wesley doesn’t know, then they were willing to kill to make sure he never found out. They cursed themselves for it.”

  “But why?” Tavia asked.

  Karam almost snorted. “Have you met Wesley?”

  Tavia shot her a glare but didn’t refute the sentiment.

  With a sigh, they stood and heaved Saxony to her feet. Karam slung Saxony’s arm over her shoulders and they made for the doors. But before they could pass through, Arjun ran into the room, breathless and bloody. He took in the sight of Asees and the absence of a dead Kingpin and confusion flashed across his warrior eyes.

  “Asees.” He rushed forward and for a moment Karam thought he might cry with joy.

  He placed a hand on Asees’s cheek, gentle and urgent, pressing his forehead to hers with a sigh of relief. Neither of them spoke, but Asees smiled, closed her eyes, and let her entire body relax.

  “I am okay,” she finally said in a whisper. “All is okay.”

  Arjun gulped down a breath and pulled back from her. “We need to leave right now.”

  “It’s not like we were planning on staying,” Tavia said.

  “I mean now,” Arjun pressed.

  “What is it?” Asees asked.

  Saxony coughed and her weight shifted a little heavier against Karam. “Yeah, what’s the rush?”

  “The seas are attacking the island. It looks ready to be swallowed,” Arjun said. “Our Crafters are creating a field to stow the weather and protect the trai
n, but they cannot hold it for long. So get moving, or by the spirits I will leave you behind.”

  But he was already heading toward Saxony, who could not walk unaided. He pulled her from Karam’s grip and swept her up into his arms. Karam was grateful for it.

  The castle began to groan.

  “It is the Kingpin’s magic,” Asees said. “This island should not exist. Now that he has fled, it will go back to where it belongs.”

  “To the bottom of Ejm Voten,” Karam said.

  She stumbled as the great fortress swayed. From the ceiling, dust and stone fell like the first signs of rain.

  They barely launched themselves from the room before it crashed to nothing.

  The floor quivered beneath Karam’s feet as they ran. The walls buckled around them and when they reached the great staircase, Karam threw herself from the balcony and rolled to a stand to soften the blow.

  Arjun, Asees, and the other Crafter allies followed suit, their feet crashing against the floor. Fall broken by their magic.

  Tavia winced when she landed and when they resumed running, Karam didn’t fail to notice that she did so with a limp. Still, the busker didn’t slow. Karam was half-impressed.

  They sprinted ahead and the staircase fell to rubble in their wake.

  From the windows, the sea burst through.

  Saxony was right. Whatever magic had made this place was gone. Now Ejm Voten was taking the island back.

  They jolted from the castle, across the drawbridge, and to the barely there shores where the train was stabbed into the sand.

  The magic was palpable in the air. Protection fields and storm culling, and as they ran through the sand to board, Karam could taste the musk of the magic.

  She flung herself into the train.

  “Go!” Karam yelled, to nobody in particular.

  The train rocked and churned, then lifted from the beach and lurched into the water. The engines screamed like banshees.

  It was fast, faster than Karam remembered it being. The shadow moon had supercharged whatever magic the Crafters were using to move this great beast and she was grateful.

  She just hoped that all of their people—and the people they had saved from the Kingpin—had made it aboard. Though, perhaps not those still intent on killing them.

  The train fled from the island and Karam stared as wind and thunder ruptured the castle.