What the hell was that thing? A leg?
More tentacles crept out from the break in Lifa’s skin and writhed around Bran’s hand. They definitely looked like legs. He cried out, the tentacles, or whatever they were, stung as they swayed across his hand. Blisters instantly appeared on his skin, bulging yellow with what he was certain would be painful pus.
Using his other hand, Bran directed a stream of cold light at the tentacles, freezing them in their dance. Another clap of thunder sounded, this time directly above Bran’s head. It was so close he cried out in pain and clamped his hands over his ears. The thing in Lifa’s neck crackled back into life with Bran’s withdrawal of power, its tentacles writhing out of Lifa’s skin.
Three swirls of smoke rose from the grass in the centre of the gardens. The blue-black smoke widened and reached up to what Bran could guess was seven feet high. With his ears still ringing, Bran jumped up, projected from the higher level of garden where he and Lifa were sitting, and landed on his feet in the lower part of the grounds a short distance away from the three columns of smoke.
‘I demand you release Lifa from her worldly bind!’ he cried out to the smoke. ‘She paid her penance for the crimes she committed; you have no need to punish her further. She must be allowed to leave this realm, for it is not her home. She is a being born from darkness and to deny her return to the below is unacceptable!’
A voice cackled from within the centre column of smoke. ‘Unacceptable? You ridicule us with your words, Necromancer. Who are you to place demands upon us?’
‘Who are you to dictate where someone must spend their life?’ Bran countered. ‘You hide behind smoke so I cannot see what you really are; perhaps you are nothing more than you appear to be. If that is so I can, and will, destroy you.’
A second voice came from the smoke column on the left. ‘We cannot be defeated by the mere likes of you, Necromancer. Your powers are punitive compared to ours. We see all. We have watched you your whole life.’
A deeper voice rumbled from the final column of smoke. ‘We are not here for you, Necromancer. We are here to ensure the Shadow Dancer remains trapped to this world. She must learn from her mistakes. She committed a great crime against humanity. If she were allowed to escape from her burden what is there to guarantee she will not wreak her anger upon humankind once more?’
‘When she turned those people to stone she was suffering from a broken heart!’ Bran replied. ‘She has learnt her lesson, she knows what she did was wrong.’
The smoke columns steadily lowered, revealing three women dressed in identical, black gowns, with thin black hair. The only way of telling them apart was by their eye colour. The woman on the left had eyes the colour of a morning sunrise, the middle had eyes as clear as a blue summer sky, and the third eyes as black and twinkling as starry midnight. Each had nails long and corkscrewed, and their skin was as dull and grey as brushed steel.
The woman in the middle with the blue eyes said, ‘Our quarrel is not with you, Necromancer. You would do well to heed our words and leave the Shadow Dancer to us. You are on your fate’s path. Lifa is not. She must remain bound to this world so her power lessens and we are sure she will no longer pose a threat to humankind.’
‘What about The Salloki?’ Bran demanded. ‘They pose a threat to humankind yet you allow them to roam free.’
‘This is true,’ said the woman with midnight eyes. ‘Yet they are only as free as the Draugr allows them to be. For now, they are bound to The Salloki realm. When the time arises that they leave and ascend to the human realm, Kaelia will fulfil her destiny and wage war upon them. The fate is already written.’
‘You look confused, Necromancer,’ picked up the woman with sunrise eyes. ‘We guide, we do not intervene.’
‘Unless a great risk is posed to humankind,’ intercepted the middle woman. ‘Lifa veered off her path when she turned those people to stone. It was not written in her destiny so by her actions she changed her destiny. We could not allow her to destroy a whole town. If she had destroyed the inhabitants of Margate, there would have been no Margate for Kaelia’s parents to flee to.’
‘Meaning The Salloki may have discovered her earlier and the great Vanagandr may have been freed by Kaelia’s hand when she was but a child. What child would not willingly do as bid if faced with unspeakable horror? The fates would have changed and she would have ended up destroying the human world and all of the other realms,’ continued the third woman. ‘We had to ensure fate was maintained for all, for humankind and gods alike.’
‘Lifa’s imprisonment was for the greater good, you must understand. We did not intervene without due course. We have no desire to shape destiny, we desire only to protect the balance and allow the fates to follow their correct paths.’
Bran clenched his fists. He knew, upon hearing the words from The Three, knew what they were. ‘You are Disir! This is all a load of poppycock. You have intervened on many occasions throughout time, you pretend you are guiders but you aren’t. You are not supposed to intervene yet you do. You were once goddesses, your true alliance will always lie with them!’
The three women dipped their heads at the same time. ‘It is true, we are Disir. It is true we are the fallen goddesses. We are The Three. It is not true we desire to preserve gods over humanity. We fell to watch over humanity; humanity and gods alike must survive.’
‘Now you know you cannot destroy us, Dark One. We are not human, nor are we goddesses. We exist between all realms; if you wish us destroyed you may as well wish all life to end.’
Bran ground his teeth together so hard he tasted blood. ‘Fine. I understand why you wanted to protect the town from Lifa but you do not need to bind her to this world. All she desires is to see her child, remove the bomb.’
‘Bomb?’ the middle woman asked, with a chuckle. ‘Foolish boy, it is not a bomb. We do not utilise the tools of the humans, we use the power from the in-between. It is a Deathwatch spider. It cannot be removed once it has grafted to a host’s cerebral cortex.’
‘It allows us to see Lifa’s movements,’ explained the first Dis. ‘If she leaves the human world, the spider will burn and implode, destroying Lifa’s brain with it. If it is attempted to be removed, it will burn. She will die.’
‘It’s still a bomb!’ Bran screamed. ‘Even if it’s a living, I mean, undead one. You put it in there, you can remove it.’
‘We cannot sever a spider from a host.’
Bran’s mind raced. ‘It’s a Deathwatch? It’s not really alive; Deathwatch spiders have never been alive. They are born of magic—of dark magic and if there’s one thing I have, it’s dark magic.’
The Disir looked at one another. Their voices were barely a whisper but Bran’s sharp hearing detected their words.
‘Can it be he has power over the Deathwatch spider?’ hissed the sunset eyed Dis.
‘He is the necromancer,’ replied the middle Dis. ‘He has power over the dead and the undead alike.’
The third woman trembled and her dark eyes flashed white for a nanosecond. ‘It is changed,’ she cried. ‘Lifa’s fate has changed!’
‘How can this be?’ screeched the first Dis. ‘It is not possible!’
‘Because I am changing it!’ Lifa, having woken up, pounced down to stand beside Bran. ‘My fate is not yours to mould, my fate belongs to me!’ With a scream she grasped the spider’s legs protruding from her neck and pulled hard.
‘No!’ screeched the Disir in unison. ‘It cannot be, the spider has been disconnected from the host’s cerebral cortex!’
‘You!’ hissed the middle Dis, pointing a long finger at Bran. ‘You broke the connection. You are not supposed to be this strong, not yet!’
The woman on the left clutched the middle’s arm. Her eyes flashed white briefly. ‘I see it. It is love...love has made the necromancer stronger!’
The middle Dis’ eyes flashed white again. ‘His fate has sped up. The time is coming sooner, love has fastened his fate!’
‘I told you, you loved me!’ Lifa screamed, still trying to pull the spider from within her.
‘The time for union is closer than we thought!’ cried the midnight eyed Dis, her eyes darkening.
‘He does not comprehend it yet!’ warned the middle Dis. ‘Fate is speeding but his realisation drags behind!’
‘We must not utter another word!’
‘We must not reveal to him what he must unveil for himself!’
‘Fate is spiralling,’ the Disir said together, all looking at Bran, their eyes flashing the same white. ‘You have many choices ahead of you, Necromancer. The road you walk is split in many paths, the journey you will take has many routes, you may fight it or you may not.’
‘You’re saying I have choices?’ Bran laughed. ‘There is no choice for me. I must make Kaelia unite with me in freeing Vanagandr so Hel will release my daughter. I have been waiting over a hundred years for my Rosalie to be free. I have been waiting even longer to know my mother. There is no choice. There is no path other than the way Hel has dictated to me. Everything I do is for her—for my daughter, and for my family.’
‘Choice is always within your heart, Necromancer.’
Bran thumped his chest. ‘There is no choice inside there. Only love, love for my daughter. That is the only love I hold, it is the love of which you speak.’
‘Love for more than one lives inside your heart, Necromancer. Your darkness blinds you but it also leads you.’
Smoke rose up around the three Disir. ‘When darkness and lightness meet, shall your fate be yours to take. When love does fill what was once full of hate, shall the break bring you fully awake.’
‘What?’ Bran shouted. ‘What are you talking about? Wait....’
With a clap of thunder the Disir vanished.
Lifa, bent over on the ground with blood streaming from the back of her neck, joked feebly, ‘You said you didn’t love me but if I hadn’t turned up and made you remember how much you love me, then your strength wouldn’t have grown.’
Not replying, Bran knelt and gently placed a hand glowing with cold light over the Deathwatch spider still half-stuck in Lifa’s neck. The shiny legs writhed under his touch, and then froze. ‘This may hurt,’ he said as the spider shattered, enabling him to pull the broken pieces from Lifa’s neck.
Lifa screamed, and bit her fist while Bran put his fingers underneath her skin to remove the last pieces of the spider. In turn, Bran bit his own lip. Lifa didn’t need any more pain inflicted upon her right now which was why he was unable to tell her it was not the realisation of love for her that had made him stronger, her arrival had brought him the realisation that he could not stop his heart from feeling, even if he tried his hardest.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Stone Pier, Margate
‘We’ll have to take a corpse with us,’ Bran whispered to Lifa once they had returned to the harbour. ‘I really can’t be bothered to fight with the bridge guardian.’
‘But you’re Hel’s golden boy, the giantess will let you pass without any hassle; she always has.’
Bran stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. ‘Yes, she’ll allow me clear passage.’
Lifa snorted. ‘But not me. Not without a corpse.’
‘You’d best procure yourself one unless you fancy a tussle with the guardian.’
‘Her hand is as big as a boat. She could crush me faster than I could release my dancer. I’ll find a victim.’
The earlier rains had washed away not only drifted sand from the pier but people also. Lifa looked around. The only human in sight was a young mother with a pram. Lifa stared at Bran.
‘I can’t,’ she said, swallowing a tear. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘You have to.’
‘Can’t you sneak me down the bridge underneath your coat?’
Bran shook his head. ‘You have to offer a corpse. There’s no other way around it.’
‘But she’s so young.’
‘It doesn’t have to be the baby.’
‘Depriving a baby of its mother is easier, is it?’
Bran expelled a frustrated stream of air. ‘Wait here. I’ll be ten minutes.’
* * *
Lifa was sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the Stone Pier when Bran returned with a body slung over his shoulder.
‘Fresh from the hospital’s morgue. It’s still soft,’ he said, dumping the body next to Lifa. ‘You can carry it from here. I’ll call up the bridge.’
Lifa jumped to her feet and pecked Bran’s cheek. ‘I knew you’d take care of me.’
A muscle pulsated in Bran’s jaw. Wishing the lips that had touched his cheek had been someone else’s. He shook his head but it was as if he could smell her, here in what had been her home town. Kaelia. The last time he had trod the bridge had been with Kaelia by his side. Now where was she? He mentally kicked himself.
He should have staked out the Vallesm castle to keep an eye on her. Kaelia had to trust him, had to do as he asked when the time came to free Vanagandr. It was the only way to free his Rosalie.
‘Are you coming?’ Lifa asked, already at the end of the Stone Pier with the body casually flopped over one shoulder.
Bran hurried to Lifa’s side and splayed out his left hand, radiating his purple light. His steps were deliberate, each foot placed precisely until he reached the very edge of the pier. He withdrew a handful of bone dust from his overcoat pocket and threw it across the water. It shot upwards before igniting into a rolling, violet flame. As quick as it had ignited, the flame extinguished and charred ashes fluttered down.
‘I call for rights of safe passage,’ Bran called. ‘Our spirits are not yours to take, we tread with feet of those born from the land of the dead, hear our words, to Hel we sheath our powers strong, we’ll pass by quietly, to your realm we have once belonged. Show us now the golden pass, let our feet not cut on blades, show us the way to where our darkness is made.’
Bran stepped off the end of the pier and his foot came down upon the brightly shining, golden bridge. Together Bran and Lifa strode along the latticed metal. High railings, their tops twisting into the dark sky above, rose from the edges of the bridge forming a barrier against the long fall to the water below. Instead of seawater, the water was now a translucent purple, clearly showing the swimming blades and hair attached to the skulls of the dead who had been sucked into the icy river bed.
Appeasing the giantess with the fresh corpse, Bran and Lifa did not stop to watch the guardian devour her treat. Instead, they picked up the pace and sped, superhumanly fast, down the bridge until they reached the edge of Niflheim. A cold mist clung around them when they stepped from the bridge. Droplets as large as pearls floated in the swirls of mist. The ground beneath their feet was hard and cracked. Flames licked from the cracks but the fire was strangely cool, matching the russet and burnt amber sky.
‘Tell me don’t have to climb the wall of bones.’ Lifa groaned, looking at her hands. ‘I don’t fancy having to clean the staining of Hellhounds’ bones and blood from underneath my fingernails.’
Bran looked at his own nails. His were indeed still red from when he had visited last and had climbed the wall with Kaelia and the Vallesm. Putting his fingers to his lips, he whistled.
‘What are you doing?’ Lifa shook her head. ‘I wasn’t planning on announcing my arrival to Hel until we are in her palace.’
The beating of strong wings sounded overhead. A pair of giant birds swooped down. Lifa cried out and dropped to her knees, covering her head with her arms. Bran held out his hands and the huge beasts pulled up before him, each dipping their petrol-hued feathered heads under one of his hands. Their red, beady eyes closed under his touch and they squawked affectionately. Bran stroked the birds and dropped his hands, signalling for them to turn around. Their feathers rustled noisily as they did as they were bid. Both lowered to the ground and waited patiently.
Lifa cautiously stood up. The bird nearest her, although crouched,
was still a good deal taller than her; its hooked, pea-green beak as large as her head. It ruffled its wings and Lifa jumped. She clutched her chest and laughed.
‘Really?’ She cocked an eyebrow at Bran. ‘You can summon Hellravens?’
Bran climbed onto the back of the Hellraven nearest him. ‘Things have changed since we last saw each other, Lifa. I’ve changed.’
Lifa watched Bran guide his bird into the air and smiled sadly. ‘He thinks he has changed,’ she whispered to her bird. ‘But he still looks the same Bran to me. Once this Vanagandr thing is over and done with, he’ll come back to me. He always does.’
* * *
The birds sailed effortlessly over the top of the tall, leafless trees forming a gnarled screen around Hel’s elaborate, golden palace. Its roof rose in tiled flames into the sky, ornately patterned with gold and brass swirls smouldering with embers of a dying fire. With the beat of their heavy wings, the birds dropped down on the top step and set their burdens outside the palace’s gilt doors.
‘Come on.’ Bran smoothed his hair and pushed the doors open.
Lifa pressed close to Bran. They both looked up as they passed under the golden door arch and into the hall of portraits. The vaulted ceiling of the wide, long hall was intricately adorned with relief images of gruesome scenes. The colours used in the artwork were aged and cracking, flaking to expose bare stone. Framed paintings covered the entire surface of the immensely high walls. It smelt exactly the same as it always had; a mix of stale air and faintly charred rose petals.
Hel slithered around the corner, instantly dwarfing both Bran and Lifa in her long shadow. Lifa clutched Bran’s elbow, hiding behind him. The low light glimmered off Hel’s skin-tight iridescent clothing. With every step she took, the pale scales covering the left side of her body rattled. Her black, tightly coiled hair was twisted up into a point, adding an unneeded extra couple of feet to her already goddess height.
Mortiswood: Kaelia Falling (Mortiswood Tales Book 2) Page 24