The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2)

by Barbara Kloss

But at least there wasn’t snow and wind.

  I pulled Vera away from the opening, laid her down at the far side of the tree, sat beside her, and leaned back against the wall, shaking.

  My body was frozen. The cold had gone past my fingers and toes, and frozen my bones. Even breathing hurt. I was so cold that I thought I’d never be warm again.

  More than anything I wanted a fire—something to thaw myself—but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic and Vera certainly couldn’t do any. She barely had enough strength left to breathe.

  I slipped my pack from my shoulder; it was empty. Of course it was empty. It never gave me anything I wanted, just exactly what I needed.

  How to convince this stubborn black sack that I needed a fire…?

  “The unseen,” Vera whispered beside me.

  I looked down at her.

  Her eyes were closed, but her breathing had relaxed, as had the lines on her face, making her look less like a warrior and more like a beautiful young woman.

  I watched her in silence, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. “Vera?” I whispered.

  Her eyes fluttered open and fastened on me. Her dark eyes were penetrating, searching and curious and angry, and then she started to push herself up.

  “Here…” I reached out to help her, but she jerked away from me.

  With a soft grunt, she sat upright and leaned against the tree with a sigh. “Where are we?”

  “Um, technically, we’re inside of a tree.”

  She arched a brow and her surprise flushed over me. “You found a shroud?”

  “Yes.”

  She was quiet, thoughtful.

  “Vera,” I started.

  She glanced at me.

  “What were those things back there?”

  She inhaled deeply as her pain peaked and faded. “The unseen. Dark spirits.”

  “I saw the dark rider,” I said. “I think he sent them.”

  Her jaw clenched, and she swallowed.

  “Are they…native to this area?” I asked.

  Vera shook her head and shut her eyes. “They’re not native to anywhere. They shouldn’t exist. The unseen—” she winced “—are spirits of the dead.”

  The tree groaned and creaked against the winter wind outside.

  “Spirits of the dead?” I whispered.

  “Yes.” She adjusted herself. “Pulled from the afterlife. Once pulled, they answer only to the person that summoned them.”

  “Someone brought those three spirits from this…afterlife?”

  “There weren’t just three. Each consists of hundreds—hundreds of angry spirits melded together beneath the control of one master, forced to do his bidding. And when they touch you, they suck out your soul until there is nothing left but an empty shell.”

  I thought of the guards. The men who’d looked ashen and shriveled as though their insides had been pulled from them. I thought of the feeling I’d had, when one of the unseen had touched me. It had been as though someone were ripping apart my insides.

  “Is that what attacked the guards at the castle?”

  Vera nodded slowly.

  And that was what had been in the hallway, when I’d been with Thad. But why hadn’t they attacked us then?

  “They’re answering to the dark rider,” I said.

  Vera was quiet.

  “I saw him right after they attacked. If we find him, we can make him stop this,” I said.

  Vera shook her head and her lips twisted sardonically. “You can’t make the dark rider do anything, princess.”

  I remembered something. “By the way,” I said, “what happened to your pack?”

  Her anger flared so hot, I almost regretted asking her.

  “Danton,” she said through her teeth.

  “Danton…?”

  “He took it.”

  Wait, what? That didn’t make any sense. “But why would he do that?”

  “Why would he do that, indeed?” she sneered. “It was right after we walked through the wall. He…caught me off guard and took it.” She shrugged it off, but I felt her rage.

  It was a battle she had lost, and she didn’t want to talk any more about it.

  But still. I had a difficult time believing that of Danton, but Vera wasn’t lying. Had he known she was being attacked by the unseen? He could’ve helped her. He could’ve helped her so that we wouldn’t be in the state we were in now.

  The only “healthy” person was the one who knew nothing and had no magic.

  “You really can’t do magic.” Vera was studying me, her face unreadable.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened back there.” I stared at the opening. “I wish it had been me, because that would mean I could do magic and I could make us a fire.”

  Vera leaned back against the tree and stared at nothing. “You’re mental, you know that?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been called that a lot, lately.”

  “And, apparently, it isn’t doing any good.”

  “None,” I said.

  Amusement sparked in her, but she said nothing.

  “How are you feeling, by the way?” I asked, knowing full well the pain ached deep in her bones.

  “Fine,” she said.

  I arched a brow. “Is a near death experience normal for you, then?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Commonplace.” I didn’t feel anger from her, though; I felt something much more curious and…amused.

  “The fire and ice—is it helping you?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “It numbs the pain”—hardly—“but it’ll take magic to rid of it completely. Their touch is like poison in your blood.”

  “I wonder why it didn’t affect me,” I said.

  Vera sighed, sagging against the wall. “It hardly touched you before it was destroyed.” She looked pointedly at me with those scrutinizing dark eyes, and I glanced away, uncomfortable.

  Silence.

  “Why did you enter the games?”

  Startled, I glanced up. There was nothing malicious in her eyes, nothing rude or judgmental.

  I wrapped my arms around my legs. “To save Fleck.”

  Her confusion swelled and quickly turned into understanding. “The Daloren child.”

  I nodded, staring absently at the floor.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Was it safe to tell her? “It’s…sort of a long story.”

  I felt her eyes on me like lasers, but she sat quiet with her thoughts.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Why did you enter?”

  She didn’t answer me at first. Instead, she looked away and stared at the space before her for a long, silent moment. Her eyes grew darker and her anger ignited and burned like hot coals.

  And, for once, it wasn’t directed at me.

  “To save myself,” she said at last; her voice a thread, thin and pulled taut.

  Agony flashed through her. She shut her eyes until it passed, and then lay down on the floor, exhausted.

  She needed help. She needed help and I couldn’t give it to her. To see someone so strong, so fierce and so capable, to see her unable to stand, unable to will away the pain, made her seem so…human.

  So much like me.

  “To save myself,” she had said.

  But from what? What could she—a beautiful, strong and powerful woman—possibly need that she didn’t have already?

  Freedom.

  But she was free. She had been free to attend the Academia, free to become an Aegis, free to enter the games. I remembered her mother, then—the scantily dressed leader of Gesh. I remembered how she had screamed at Vera, and Vera had been embarrassed and furious but succumbed to the woman’s demand regardless.

  What had happened in her life to create such hard lines of defiance, such sharp angles of anger? What had made her…this?

  “Who are you?” I whispered to myself, sagging against the tree as exhaustion set in.

  ****

  It was a landsc
ape I recognized. Empty and desolate—devoid of all life. The world bled to death around me as the air cried out in misery. So many voices, so many heart-wrenching voices, but I could see none of them.

  All that mattered was the box, the one in my hands.

  It was a strange box, and I couldn’t recall how it had gotten there, but I was holding it. Small and black and simple, rectangular in shape. So much fuss over such a tiny object.

  And yet I’d waited for this moment—begged for this moment. To hold it in my hands and open it. Find the knowledge sealed inside. The knowledge of the Pandors. It was all that could save us now.

  I trailed my fingers along the lip of the lid. Power radiated form the box. This was it.

  I lifted the lid and peered inside.

  ****

  A soft crunch startled me awake.

  I didn’t even remember falling asleep. I glanced at Vera; she was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling slowly.

  Had I dreamed the sound?

  Crunch.

  No, someone, or something, was outside.

  I pulled my dagger from its sheath and stood, creeping toward the entrance. The shadows beyond were thick and black, and the snow shone a dull grey. I couldn’t see anything unusual.

  I had started to turn back inside the tree when I heard a soft crunch again, closer this time. Considering I hadn’t seen any signs of life all day, save Danton and Vera, I wasn’t too thrilled about hearing one now.

  Maybe it was nothing.

  But what if it isn’t?

  Vera was in no state to defend herself. I needed to see what was making the noise, and if it was anything potentially harmful, I needed to make sure it stayed away from the shroud, away from Vera. With a deep breath, I pressed myself against the tree and slipped outside into the shadows.

  The night held its breath.

  There was nothing. Just tree after giant, black tree. The shadows were still, waiting. Even the wind was quiet. I reached outside of myself, trying to get a sense of life—anything—but there was nothing.

  I shivered, holding my cloak tight, clutching the icy hilt of my dagger, and took a step forward. I felt something then, not far in the distance. Something…cold.

  I looked back at the tree; from here, you couldn’t tell there was an opening and that anyone was inside of it.

  Good, at least Vera would be safe.

  With a deep breath, I stepped forward into the shadows. My footsteps crunched softly in the snow as a cold breeze whispered past, and a dark shape lunged from the shadows. I jumped out of the way and spun around, breathing hard.

  Orange cat-like eyes glowed in the darkness, illuminating a face of dried earth. A Pykan. The sorcerers that had hunted me on Earth all the way through the Arborenne when I’d been with the Del Contes. No one had seen a sign of them since the event with Lord Tiernan.

  The Pykan hissed, stepping toward me, and I took a step back but bumped into another one.

  It grabbed my arms, and I barely slipped away, only to fall right into the arms of the other. It held me tight as I struggled, kicking and punching, trying to writhe free, but its grip was like an iron vice, its frame like kicking stone.

  Without thinking, I kicked with my bad ankle. It felt like someone was ripping my foot off. I cried out in pain, and the Pykan’s grip around me tightened.

  The other Pykan stood before me with a cruel smile.

  “What do you want?” I spat.

  The Pykan tilted its head, studying me. I hated its eyes. They were unfeeling, cold and callous. They were everything that was wrong with this world. “You insist upon running from us, princess.” Its voice was slippery; its breath smelled of rot and death. “And yet all we want is to help you.”

  “Help?” I winced against my vice. “By holding my arms behind my back?”

  The Pykan moved to my other side. “All we want is to offer our counsel.”

  “If your counsel was worth hearing, you wouldn’t have to trap me in order to give it.”

  The fury of the Pykan burned hot, and its orange eyes narrowed. When he smiled, my blood turned to ice.

  “Tell me, child, what’s it like, not having magic?”

  “Why are you…?” I started yelling, but my voice trailed. There was something about the way the Pykan had said that, something about the way it was looking at me. I stopped struggling. “Why?” I asked. “What do you know?”

  It waited there, quiet and satisfied. “Your magic,” it said. “It has been blocked.”

  The word dropped in the air like a brick.

  I gasped. “Blocked?”

  “As in a strong barrier has been placed around your magic, preventing you from accessing it.”

  That couldn’t be true. He was lying. He had to be.

  The Pykan circled me. “I know you can sense it,” it continued. “But when you reach out, it is like a vapor. The magic—” it held up a cracked hand and grasped at the air “—it slips through your fingers.”

  “You’re lying.” My voice trembled.

  The Pykan stopped before me, eyes boring down on mine. “Am I?”

  A lump lodged in my throat.

  It wasn’t lying.

  “But who…?” I whispered.

  The Pykan looked pleased. “Why don’t you ask your grandfather?”

  No. That wasn’t possible. “No, he hated me because I—”

  “—didn’t have magic?” the Pykan finished. “No, he hated you because you had it. You were a threat to him. You were a threat to his kingdom,” the Pykan spat with deep loathing.

  My heart raced as my breath came quick. Me? A threat? The Pykan had to be lying. I wanted him to be lying.

  “Search yourself,” the Pykan continued. “You know what kind of man your grandfather is. Is it really that unrealistic?”

  No, it wasn’t.

  “All you’ve wanted is to have magic. To be an equal. With magic, no one could lock you away, no one could taunt you, attack you when you are so…vulnerable.”

  Denn.

  My stomach twisted at the memory and bile rose in my throat.

  “I can give it back to you, princess. I can break down the barrier so that you can have your magic.”

  The Pykan wasn’t lying, and I felt sick.

  All this time. Months of pain and sorrow, anger and frustration. If I’d had magic, I could’ve had Fleck out of here by now. I could’ve been out of here by now.

  I gazed back into the Pykan’s cat-like eyes, weary. “Why would you do that?”

  “In exchange for the unity stone.”

  I blinked. “The unity stone? Why do you need me?”

  The Pykan’s eyes narrowed. “Because we can’t unlock its power. Only a champion can.”

  “Why me?” I asked. “Why not find one of the others?”

  “Because, you, princess, are a Pandor, and only a—”

  A crack sounded in the distance, and the Pykan’s head spun.

  In its momentary distraction, I moved. I slipped from the grasp of my assailant and ran.

  Bolts of light shot from behind me as I sprinted through the forest. They landed in trees—the snow—but each one missed. I dodged one, landing hard on my bad ankle. Pain seared up my shin, and it was all I had left to pick up each leg. I had to keep moving; I couldn’t lead them back to Vera. If I could just lose them…

  My ankle gave out and I slipped, plunging into water.

  A thousand tiny needles pricked over my skin as I kicked and swam, but my fingers wouldn’t bend. My legs and feet were like anchors, pulling me down, deeper into the ice-cold water.

  With a last burst of strength, I kicked myself upward, and my fingers rammed into a thick layer of ice. I pushed and clawed and shoved, but my escape was sealed. My lungs were bursting as my head started feeling fuzzy. My feet pulled me down, deeper and deeper into the cold water, but I was no longer cold. Warmth spread through my insides, but it didn’t reach my legs and arms—I couldn’t feel them anymore.

  Exhaustion r
olled over me in one forceful wave and the world around me turned dark.

  Chapter 21

  Identities

  I opened my eyes to an orange glow. A small fire crackled and burned beside me, and just beyond it was Vera. She was sleeping on her side, her breathing slow and even and peaceful.

  I was in the shroud. Leather clothes were draped over the stool that stood beside the fire. My clothes. My boots stood upright beside them, unlaced, my dagger lying flat across their toes, and I suddenly realized I had been stripped down to my bra and underwear, tucked beneath a few layers of blankets, with a wool beanie on my head.

  With a start, I sat; my skull felt as though someone had attacked it with a jackhammer.

  But…how did I get here?

  I had brought Vera in the tree, but I had heard a noise and left, and had run into Pykans. The Pykans had told me something—what was it they had said? I couldn’t remember.

  And then I remembered running away from them and falling into water and everything had gone cold and dark.

  How had I ended up here, inside the tree, practically naked under blankets with a hot fire beside me?

  I heard soft tread in the snow, just outside the tree. I snatched my dagger from my boots, shoved it under my blankets and lay down, pretending to sleep.

  The moment my eyes shut, someone stepped through the opening and into the tree. I could feel their gaze on me like I could feel my own heart beating. I fought against my pounding head, trying to get a sense of the person at the entryway, but all I could feel was winter—endless winter.

  The person moved past me, past the fire, and I lifted my lids a fraction…

  It was the dark rider.

  I blinked to make sure I was seeing correctly.

  Impossible. It didn’t make any sense. Had he…?

  He set a few pieces of wood at the far side of the room, and then crouched at the fire with his back to me, dressed all in black like a shadow. A very cold, very lethal shadow. He was fidgeting with something in his hands, head bent in focus.

  Now.

  As quietly as I could, I sat, held my blanket with one hand and my dagger in the other, and slid toward him.

  Just a little farther…

  I pressed the tip of my dagger between his shoulder blades.