The Doorway God

by Tom Early

  I was, against my better judgment, actually impressed with Aiden. We clearly weren’t the only ones to learn over the past year. He was less of a raging asshole now, and he was trying to teach Sam, even in the middle of a fight.

  Sam’s face cleared at Aiden’s words, and then she furrowed her brow in concentration. The next moment an orb of light popped into existence above her shoulder, casting a soft white glow over her form.

  The shadows hesitated for only a moment and then continued approaching, swallowing up the orb’s meager wattage without any effort.

  “Not quite,” Aiden said. “Try again.”

  “Asshole,” Sam muttered and then threw out her hand. A musical cry filled the air, and then the ercinee flew out from nothing to alight on her arm.

  Sam’s familiar was an ercinee, a glowing black-and-gold feathered bird made of light, and possibly homicidal fireflies. I still wasn’t really clear on that. It was also capable of absorbing energy, I remembered, and when not trying to eat Tyler’s soul it was an extremely helpful ally.

  The ercinee’s glowing eyes surveyed the room for only half a second before it spread its wings and flew, its many tails drifting in unseen eddies behind it. The golden light it bathed the room with beat back the shadows, until only a small ring around Aiden’s form remained.

  “Excellent” came Aiden’s voice again. “Light and dark are equally deadly to each other. Remember that, and you’ll have a chance at holding your own against those versed in shadow magic.”

  “Keep this up, and I’ll start calling you sensei,” Sam threatened. “I get what you’re teaching me without the lecture, thanks.”

  The golden eyes blinked. “Point taken. Continue?”

  Sam sighed. “Somehow you’ve managed to suck the fun out of this for me. Stop,” she called. All of the darkness snapped out of existence, and the ercinee vanished.

  “Good match,” Aiden said. “I’ll say this about you: You are certainly the most adaptable fighter I have ever encountered. Most would hesitate before so swiftly learning from failure.”

  Sam made a face, reaching back to properly fix her hair. “Ew. Even your backhanded compliments feel weird.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I bother.”

  “Can we go back to the rooms now?” I asked, rising out of my chair. “We should probably try to meet our floormates before they’re all done introducing themselves.”

  “Fine by me,” Sam said, and then her face brightened. “Ooh, I hope my roommate is cool.”

  “I shudder to think of what you’ll do if they aren’t.”

  I wasn’t kidding. Sam had issues with sharing space, even with people she liked. The last time I’d slept over at her house, she had laid down very specific rules about what I was and was not allowed to touch. She said she had a system. I just figured she didn’t want to move her socks. Either way, her roommate was in for a lot of… fun.

  “You’ll have a little over an hour at this point to make introductions,” Aiden said, walking back to the door. “Then you’ll be introduced to Obsidian’s current Head.”

  “Obsidian House has a leader?” Sam asked. “What does a house need a leader for?”

  There was a slight hum as the door shimmered and then swung open. Aiden walked through, checking to make sure we followed.

  “The Heads of House are responsible for organizing events, planning Arena teams, and representing the Houses as a whole in all areas of activity,” Aiden replied smoothly. “They are also responsible for keeping the peace for in-House matters and dealing with issues between Houses. It’s quite a lot of work.”

  “What’s the payoff?” Sam asked.

  Aiden gave her a lazy smile. “Why, the pleasure of a job well done, of course. Leadership for its own sake.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow.

  “You get a suite to yourself, top floor,” Aiden admitted. “Four-poster bed, flat-screen television, fully equipped kitchen, the works. The extra living space alone is worth the added responsibility.”

  “Damn.” Sam whistled. “Guess I know what I’ll be aiming for in a couple years.”

  “Thank the gods I’ll be gone by then,” Aiden murmured.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I thought so.”

  Chapter Six

  WHEN WE got back to Obsidian, the house was full of noise. The lounge was crowded with people who were busy smiling and laughing and even hugging each other with a familiarity that meant they definitely weren’t first-years. A few of them waved at Aiden as we passed by, and he offered a grin in return. A smile on his face still looked weird to me. Good, but weird. We headed upstairs, and Aiden dropped us off at our floor before heading back down.

  The first person to greet us was, to my surprise, none other than Septimus. As before, the black-haired boy had curling ram’s horns extending from his brow, framing his flame-red eyes. Despite that and the fact that we had beaten him in the Trials, the nod he gave us as we approached didn’t seem all that hostile.

  “Samantha and Feayr, right? Good to see you two again,” Septimus said, his voice smoother than his outward appearance. “Looks like we’re floormates.”

  Sam gave him a wary look. “Is your imp around here somewhere? If you’re holding a grudge, I’d rather not find out from a fucking scorpion tail.”

  Septimus shook his head. “That was just the Trials. I don’t hold a grudge for losing. And no, my familiar isn’t here. All contracts have to end eventually, you know. Even with familiars.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw the barest hint of a smirk playing around the other boy’s lips when he said that. Weird.

  “Have you seen anyone else you recognize?” I asked.

  “Not yet. Considering there were thirty of us who made it from our Trial, I’m guessing they simply haven’t returned yet, or the Speakers decided they fit better into the other Houses.”

  “On that note,” Sam said, looking at his horns, “is there a particular reason you’re in Obsidian, and not Verdant? I thought that was where the nonhumans normally went?”

  I winced. Sam honestly meant no offense by the question, but for all I knew, the whole human and not-quite-human thing was a touchy subject here.

  Thankfully, Septimus didn’t seem upset, though there was a slightly bitter twist to his mouth. “Let’s… just say that I’m not the sort of nonhuman that does well in Verdant. Besides, my powers fit better in Obsidian, trust me.”

  It was at this point that I absentmindedly stepped aside as what appeared to be a wobbly pile of books on legs made its way past me, down the hall, and opened the door to Sam’s room. I caught a glimpse of dark brown skin, braided hair in a ponytail, and a knee-length skirt, and then the door was shut.

  I glanced back at Sam, who at some point had taken out her sketchpad and was drawing Septimus’s horns repeatedly, from different angles. Septimus didn’t seem to mind and was actually willingly turning his head to help with perspective. He really wasn’t acting like I’d expected him to after the brief time I’d known him at the Trials, but then again, now he didn’t have anything to prove.

  “I think you just missed your roommate,” I said, waving my hand in front of Sam’s face.

  “Wait, really?”

  “Yep. She had a lot of books with her. I approve,” I said, already thinking wistfully back to all the fantasy novels I’d left back home.

  Sam swerved to point at Septimus. “Don’t move. I’m not done with your horns yet. They only rank slightly lower in priority than introducing myself to the person I’m living with for the next year.”

  Septimus glanced at me as Sam made a beeline for her room. His eyes were a shade of red that almost verged on orange, now. “Was she kidding?”

  I shrugged. “It’s possible, but do you really want to risk it? Anyway, I’d like to see what’s on the tablets they gave us, so… have fun standing alone in the hall.” Okay, it was possible I hadn’t quite forgiven him for the imp yet either.
>
  “I’m beginning to understand why you two are friends,” Septimus grumbled, and I just grinned as I walked past him.

  More than a few of the rooms I passed had their doors open, but I wanted a few minutes to recharge on my own before it was time for all of our floor to meet up. I went back to my room, unlocked the door, and stepped in. It only took me a second of blinking confusedly to realize that crossing the threshold had clearly taken me somewhere else entirely.

  Didas offered me a cold smile from where he sat behind a massive wooden desk, his stern features half-framed by a pale orb of light floating by his side.

  “Hello, Feayr. Please, have a seat.”

  I DID my best not to fall straight into another panic attack at Didas’s greeting. The last time we’d spoken, he was busy carving runes into my chest with a magical knife. Things like that were hard to forget. I could already feel the blood pounding behind my eyes.

  Didas frowned. “Calm down,” he said, and his voice seemed to have a strange resonance to it, like several voices layered on top of one another. Surprisingly, I could feel the panic lessen somewhat, not like it had faded, but more like someone had thrown a thick blanket over it. It didn’t feel right, but it allowed me to breathe more normally.

  The cold smile was back. “That’s better. Now, sit down,” he said again, motioning to a sturdy chair on my side of the desk. “We have much to discuss.”

  I sat down and said nothing. I didn’t trust myself to be polite with him, even with the effects of the calming spell in my system.

  Didas looked at me for a moment and then nodded, as if noting and filing away my lack of response. “I imagine you already know why I brought you here. The Wards I placed on you are beginning to fail, as you’ve no doubt noticed. They were never meant to be anything more than a temporary solution, and with every step closer to winter we get, the closer he gets to coming back to the surface. Eventually you will become nothing more than a puppet.” He paused. “Neither of us wants to see that happen again.”

  I shuddered, remembering what it was like to slip into that empty blizzard, not knowing what my body was being used to do while I was trapped there. “No,” I said, and my voice shook.

  Didas nodded. “Then it’s good that I have found a potential solution to this problem.” He walked over to a shelf on the wall to his left, reached up to grab a box of some sort, and placed it on the desk in front of me.

  I took a moment to peer at the case. It was made of a dark wood and completely covered in runes that reminded me of the few bits of Hebrew Sam had shown me when she was complaining about how much she had to memorize for her bat mitzvah.

  “So what’s in it? Excuse me if I’m doubtful about there being an easy solution for me being possessed by the evil god of winter.”

  “You needn’t worry yourself, then,” Didas said, his lips twisting. “This particular solution is anything except easy. And you have no idea the lengths I went through to get it.”

  “Great.”

  “What is in this box is a piece of a legend from your world. Not everything magical left Earth entirely, you see, and what’s more, some of us knew the way back.”

  He was clearly expecting some sort of response, but in a tragic turn of events, I couldn’t summon up any real interest. I settled for folding my arms and waiting for him to get on with it.

  “You’re not one for respecting your elders, are you?” Didas said, pursing his lips like he’d tasted something mildly unpleasant.

  “I am when they’ve earned it,” I muttered under my breath. Considering the last time we’d spoken had consisted of threats and torture, he definitely hadn’t.

  The air rippled out from Didas, and I was pushed deeper into my chair by the sudden force. It hadn’t even taken the slightest gesture for Didas to summon enough power to completely bind me. I couldn’t even take a deep breath as the air itself compressed my chest in on itself. The orb of light by his side had turned a dull, throbbing gray, and all color was slowly being leached out of the room.

  “Without me,” Didas said, his thundercloud eyes flat and cold, “every child at the Trial, including your friend and lover, would be dead at your hands.” I tried to flinch away from him, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything. He leaned closer across the desk. “The only reason I did not kill you then for what happened was because I saw you as an investment. If you are not willing to show me some basic level of respect as I try to help you, then I will kill you and wash my hands of this whole affair.” He stood up suddenly, hands flat on his desk as he leaned over it toward me. I could feel the static as sparks started to sing through the air. Didas’s shadow was extending, looming over me, and suddenly I felt very, very small. “Do you understand?” Didas asked, his voice deceivingly soft and calm. It was easily one of the most terrifying things I had ever witnessed.

  I nodded, eyes wide as I felt the fear in my system but wasn’t even able to experience it fully because of Didas’s calming spell. It was like he had placed a snake inside my skin and refused to let it burrow its way out. My entire body felt like it was about to convulse, and the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff didn’t leave me until I slowly managed to nod.

  The power left the atmosphere, and I sucked in a desperate, gasping breath.

  “Good,” Didas said with an empty smile and sat back down. “Inside this box are the Seven Horns from the siege of Jericho, which didn’t quite happen as described in your religious texts and did involve magic. These Seven Horns, due to the power imbued in them, have the ability to bring down any wall.” He looked at me. “I intend to use them on you.”

  It took me a moment to realize how metaphorical the whole “wall” thing could be, and then I paled. “You can’t be serious.”

  He nodded.

  “But that would bring down the barrier between me and Winter. What’s to stop him from taking me over again and killing everything in his path?” I felt sick, remembering how Sam and Tyler’s eyes had refused to meet mine when I asked them to describe what had happened while I was out.

  “It wasn’t you,” Sam had said, her voice shaky. “I mean, it was your body, but… you didn’t look human, Fay. Not at all.”

  “We would be here to stop him,” Didas said, bringing me out of my memory. “Speaker Sekhmene was able to stop his rampage once before. Should it come to it, she can do so again.”

  “And what about me?” I said. “What happens to me when you can’t seal him away again? Do you kill me?”

  Didas raised an eyebrow. “If it comes to it? Yes. But you are misunderstanding what the horns will do. They will not just remove the barrier between you and Winter’s power. Their power is stronger than that. They will remove the barriers between you and Winter entirely.”

  “And what does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

  For a moment, silence hung heavily in the air. Then Didas exhaled and looked me straight in the eyes. “It means that everything that separates you from Winter will be removed. You will no longer be two separate entities sharing one body. You and Winter will merge.”

  I took a shaky breath. “That,” I said, “sounds suspiciously like it would kill me, just in a less direct way.”

  “Ordinarily you would be right,” Didas admitted. “But there is a reason I am telling you this now and giving you a choice. The better your sense of self is when the horns are used, the more likely it is that you will survive the transition. That’s not to say the university won’t also be pulling its own weight.” He waved his hand through the air. Tracings of runes, of plans and lines that made my head hurt simply by looking at them, became visible for a moment before fading away once more. “We have the knowledge and raw power to hopefully tip the balance of the merging in your favor.”

  “Hopefully,” I said dully. “That doesn’t sound optimistic.”

  “I won’t lie,” Didas said, still maddeningly calm, “there is the very real risk that, despite our best efforts, Winter will simply overpower you once the barriers a
re gone and you will cease to exist altogether.” His lips thinned. “Should it come to that, you have my assurance that you will not be allowed to harm anyone else.”

  “Well, when you put it like that….” Humor seemed good. Yeah. It was that or actually thinking about what Didas was saying.

  “As I said, we will do everything in our power to prevent that. And while we prepare our rituals, the use of the horns themselves will be spread out to better allow you to keep hold of yourself as the merge continues.”

  I grimaced. “That sounds painful.”

  “Possibly,” Didas remarked, seeming unconcerned by the prospect. “Given that the horns have not been used in thousands of years, no one quite knows what to expect.” His eyes brightened. “It’s quite exciting, actually. One rarely gets a chance to play with such ancient magic like this.” I gave him a disbelieving look, and he ignored it magnificently. “Either way,” he continued, “you will have time. The ritual cannot begin before the season’s arrival, as it must be Winter’s time for the merge to take place. For the same reason it must end before winter changes to spring. Our hope is that using the final rune on the last day of winter will limit his power somewhat, though I am not yet certain if that plan will work.”

  “So why tell me now?” I asked. “Why not wait until there’s no time left for me to disagree?”

  “It’s like I’m speaking to a child.” Didas sighed. “As I said, we need you to be as much yourself as is possible for this to work. If you were placed in a situation such as this with no preparation, it would almost certainly fail.”

  I blanched. “Then what am I supposed to do now?”

  “Think on what I’ve told you.” Didas shrugged. “Make your peace with it. Tell your friends. Do what everyone else is here to do.” He smiled thinly. “Learn.”

  “Is that all?” I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “My brain is kind of on lockdown now, so I hope it is.”

  “One more thing,” Didas said, steepling his fingers. “A bit of incentive, if you will, to not run away. You remember Miss Aria Tempestas, don’t you?”