A few very short moments later, it was Summer’s turn.
She faced her fate in grim silence. Before her was the unfinished fountain. In front of the fountain stood another soldier, perhaps a second in command to Tantibus in this particular army. That man nodded at Summer. “Please disrobe,” he commanded.
Summer was surprised by the “please,” but said nothing. She took a deep breath, grasped the front laces of her corset, and began to loosen them.
The remainder of her time before the soldiers stretched like a strange, numb blur. She felt cold; the air was less forgiving to bare flesh. But she also barely cared. When she was completely nude, the soldier walked around her. She was told to lift her hair from the back of her neck and to raise her arms away from her body. Then she was told to dress once more and move aside.
She was standing up again after having retrieved her clothing when a word rang out through the clearing.
“Wait.”
Summer froze. The world tilted beneath her feet.
It was Tantibus who had spoken. It was the first time he had said anything at all since he and his men had ridden into town hours earlier that day. She watched the hooves of his mount approach, kicking up dust and leaving ash. Dizziness swept through her, and she knew she’d stopped breathing.
“You are familiar somehow.”
He was beside her now, directly above her, towering over her shivering form like the nightmare that he was.
“Look at me.”
She didn’t even realize she was obeying. An ironic and terrible coldness now engulfed her as she found herself raising her head and gazing into eyes the burning hue of Hell.
“Yes….” he said, and his inhuman voice was like a rumbling hiss that rolled over and through her, then passed to engulf the entire town. “You hold a place for one of them in your heart.”
He moved back then, steering his steed away to release her quite suddenly from his indomitable hold. And in a moment that was like a sentence drawn down with the finality of eternal doom, he issued an order to his soldiers. “Allow her to dress, then bind her. She will be coming with us.”
Chapter Seventeen
The light the newcomer carried was held aloft on an exquisitely carved torch of gold. The fire itself was different from any Raven had ever seen. It seemed composed of flames of gray, yet was capable of giving off quite a bit of illumination.
Direan stood perhaps five or six inches taller than Raven, and was dressed in clothing that at first seemed normal, but upon closer inspection appeared odd. It was the kind of clothing she would expect to see on someone wealthy, sewn of high quality materials that only nobles could afford. The strange aspect of it was that everything he wore seemed muted. It had been tailored in dark shades, not black, but nearly so. This lent for stark contrast to the vibrancy of his impossibly green eyes and the yellow gold of his thick, blond hair.
He came toward Raven, and she stiffened. It was instinct. She was on edge, in pain, and overtly wary.
A glance at her brother showed her he felt the same way, as did Grolsch, who hadn’t yet put his axe into its sling. Orange light glowed from within Loki’s fingertips; he was keeping a spell at the ready.
But the stranger smiled again, and even chuckled. “I promise not to slice you up as my friends have.”
Raven swallowed hard.
Direan knelt before her and offered her his hand. “I have dressings in my quarters. I can tend to your wounds there, if you’ll allow me.”
Both wounds the shadow squid had given her were burning furiously by then, and the idea of having them tended to in a timely manner sounded wonderful. She took his hand, and his fingers curled easily around hers.
“Thank you,” she said, just trying to remain civil.
He helped her to her feet then released her, turning to her companions. “The poison of the Shadra Kin prevents blood from clotting. Her wounds will continue to bleed until the proper antivenin is applied.”
“An’ just why should we trust you?” Grolsch demanded, though Raven had to admit he managed to keep his voice down. For an ork.
“You have no reason to,” Direan explained. “However, if you delay much longer, your lovely companion will bleed to death.”
Raven looked down and gasped to find her left leg and right arm were completely drenched in her own blood. Nausea swam in her gut. Those stars were back in her vision. She leaned heavily on the wall.
Loki must have noticed her sudden distress, because he was at her side, his arm sliding around her waist. “Fine,” he said urgently. “Lead the way.”
Direan turned his back on them, using the torch to light the way, though Raven highly suspected he didn’t need that light himself to see where he was going. Somehow, despite her continued blood loss, she managed to remain on her feet.
“Can you heal me?” she whispered to her brother, leaning close so only he would hear her.
“I can try.”
“It would be a waste of your talents, I’m afraid,” Direan told them without looking back. His voice cut through the space between them like a well sharpened blade, crisp and cool.
He’d heard them, despite their whispers. He clearly isn’t human, Raven thought. What is he?
“The poison in your sister’s veins is resistant to magical cure,” he went on. Raven swallowed hard as another wave of dizziness swept through her. She leaned more heavily Loki, and he tightened his grip. “As it happens to be composed of magic, itself.”
“How did you know we were siblings?” Loki asked.
“I didn’t.” Now Direan did glance at them over a broad shoulder, and his green eyes seemed even brighter than before. Unnaturally so. All of Raven’s little hairs stood on end. “But I do now,” he finished, before turning back around. “Here we are.”
They took several carved stone steps down into a recessed area of the cave, and the space expanded.
Raven looked up as they entered a vast cavern replete with stalagmites, stalactites, and pools of water. Here and there, shafts of sunlight made their way into the cave in dust-mote filled sunbeams from tiny holes in the ceiling high above.
Beneath the beams and feeding upon the sparse but bright sunlight were individual potted plants. They rested on benches and tables of all shapes and sizes. The cave was a virtual atrium of hidden life.
“Set her down on that chair there,” Direan instructed. Raven looked where he was pointing, and Loki led her to an ornately carved seat with plush, white cushioning. When she neared it enough to see that it was velvet, she froze.
“I can’t sit here,” she said softly. Her voice lacked the strength it normally held; she was growing weaker. “I’ll bleed all over it.”
“You needn’t worry about that,” said Direan, who was suddenly standing beside her. She hadn’t heard him approach, but now he placed two strong hands on her shoulders and gently forced her onto the wide seat. “It doesn’t stain.”
Raven’s body felt strange beneath his touch, prickly and uncomfortable. The discomfort added to her already building nausea and weakness, and she turned her face away, accepting the seat with some relief. She needed to rest.
She watched his boots as he moved away. Loki sat down beside her. She glanced at him to find his lips were pursed tightly together. She could tell he wanted to say something to her, but given that their host had heard them loud and clear the last time they’d tried to speak covertly, he probably didn’t want to try again.
It didn’t matter. She knew what he was thinking. This whole situation was too strange. She didn’t trust anything about it.
Grolsch stood next to the seat, as there wasn’t enough room for him to sit down too. Not that he would have taken the seat, anyway. He was more the standing type. He hadn’t even put away his axe.
“The bloom of this rose possesses a unique characteristic,” said Direan. He’d stopped before one of the many potted plants in the large cavern, and was pulling on a pair of gloves. The plant before him looked to be a whit
e rose bush, however very depleted. There were only two stems remaining, and though the two moon-white flowers on the ends of the stems looked to be relatively healthy, she would still wager it was the least healthy plant in the cavern. All the others appeared to be thriving with multiple stems, leaves, and blooms.
“Each stem possesses one bloom and one thorn. The poison of the thorn causes immense pain,” he went on. “The remedy of the petals will take that pain away.” He took a pair of scissors from beside the plant on the table and placed them at the base of one entire stem, preparing to snap it off. “Fortunately for you, it also possesses the ability to heal wounds such as those caused by the Shadra Kin.”
“Won’t that kill the plant?” she found herself asking quickly, despite how sick she felt. She couldn’t help it; she actually felt sorry for the rose bush. Perhaps one of the multitude of souls within her had once belonged to a plant?
“On the contrary,” he replied as he snipped the stem away from the plant, leaving only the single stem remaining. He turned with it and came toward them. “It will now be much more robust than before. Sometimes it is necessary to cut away dead weight so the remaining flower can bloom.”
He met Raven’s eyes as he said this, and she felt that gaze pierce deep. Something about his words made their way inside her. They echoed through her mind, important and meaningful, though she wasn’t sure why.
Direan held the rose as he knelt gracefully before Raven. He gestured to the wound in her leg. “May I?”
There was no room remaining in Raven’s tortured body for false pride. “Please,” she said, only wanting him to hurry. The nausea was becoming unbearable, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten much lately.
She positioned herself so he had access to her leg wound, and tried not to throw up when she saw how much blood she’d actually lost.
She shut her eyes and rested her head on Loki’s shoulder when Direan took a petal from the white rose and placed it directly onto the wound. Moments later, the burning pain in her leg ebbed. She opened her eyes to see the slice in her flesh was closing again. Like magic.
“That’s done,” he said. “Now your arm, please.”
This time, there was no hesitation at all. Raven leaned down, with Loki’s help, and held out her right arm. The gash in her arm was deeper than the one in her leg. She caught a flash of exposed muscle when she inadvertently flexed her bicep, but the knowledge that it would soon be healed staved off sickness.
Direan placed a fresh petal to the new wound. Just as before, within seconds, the burning sensation receded, and she could actually feel her tissues sealing back together.
When she turned her arm over to view the injury, it was almost completely healed.
The rose on the end of the stem, however, was now wilted and very obviously dead. Direan noticed her frowning at it and smiled helplessly. “I’m afraid all magic is finite. And it’s almost always draining.” Then, very quietly, as if he were speaking to her alone, he added, “I’m sure you know what I mean… Raven Grey.”
Chapter Eighteen
Summer’s head throbbed. The muscles of her shoulders and neck were tensed to their limits, not only in fear, but because it helped keep her from moving too much on the back of the horse. The manacles around her wrists were far heavier than necessary, and far thicker. In her imagination, they’d been constructed in an underground smithy, smoky and filled with ash, with the intent of imprisoning some sort of beast much larger and burlier than she.
They left bruises on her wrists even though she did her best to remain still where she sat behind the hulking form of Tantibus on his massive black stallion. The thundering of the horses around her sounded like an ongoing storm. Her guts felt shaken to mush by the hard pace.
She tried not to think of the scene she’d left behind in Warrendale. He’ll be okay, she told herself. Her father would survive. As Summer had been pulled up into the saddle behind the Nightmare Lord, Mary and her little boy had been standing on one side of Summer’s father, and Fyona on the other. Summer had known the women would tend to her father in her absence. The unspoken promise had been in their eyes.
Summer hadn’t cried. She hadn’t struggled. There was no point.
She understood that it was her friendship with Loki Grey that had pulled her into this mess. In the end, she wasn’t surprised. The truth was, she’d wondered whether something like this would happen.
The entire war had been launched over Loki’s sister, Raven. So many powerful forces were searching for her, covering every possible lead, Summer was actually a little surprised her association with Loki hadn’t been manipulated much sooner.
Maybe she hadn’t really had anything to offer to the search. So she’d met Loki Grey. What of it? She had no idea where the man was now, and most certainly had no clue where his sister might be.
Maybe it was different now. Maybe the situation had become desperate.
Summer was pulled from her thoughts when a light fell over the horses and their riders. She looked up, fear tightening her chest. They’d been moving through a dense and tangled forest, but now it gave way to a clearing.
Up ahead stood a gate. It was that structure that cast her mind into the realm of fear. The giant gateway stood the height of twenty homes and rose in cruel spires that pierced the sky with their black rock. She half expected the heavens to begin bleeding.
At the center of the gate were two doors that appeared like sheer walls, a double entrance that for some reason neither grew in stature nor seemed draw any closer as the party picked up speed and approached. Summer squeaked and reached out with her cuffed hands, grasping the back of Tantibus’s armor as he spurred his mount into a furious gallop and the other soldiers followed suit.
But when her grip slipped and she was certain she would fall, she found there was a solid presence at her back, as well as all around her. Tantibus had created a shield around her to prevent her from falling off. Or perhaps to prevent her escape.
Either way, she was glad to be safe for now, as the horse’s speed grew to such insane extents, the ground and surroundings became an indistinct blur. The colors melted into one another. Summer became dizzy. The double doors loomed –
And then the deep, cold dark of their shadow overwhelmed the riders, casting everything into a veritable night.
Summer lost sight of the others in this strange darkness. She even lost sight of Tantibus. The entire world had gone black in the gate’s impossible shadow. The odd thing was, there was no sound in that blackness either. There was no movement.
There was nothing.
It seemed that everything and everyone had suddenly vanished. She was completely and utterly alone. There was no horse, there was no army, there was no massive, demonic double-door entrance to what she had a very strong feeling was a one-way portal into the vestibule of Hell.
Summer tried to lift her hand to feel out in front of her.
And that’s when everything came sucking back into existence once more. Summer found she was still bound, and still on the back of Tantibus’s nightmare steed. The darkness lifted, the horse shot through the other end of the entrance, the enormous shadow passed, and Tantibus’s army was thundering down a long, red stone path toward a castle in the far distance.
With the sight of that castle, the gate behind them became instantly forgotten.
Summer could scarcely comprehend what she was witnessing. She could barely believe she was really there.
Had she really done something so wrong? Had she told too many lies to make people smile? Did happiness not actually matter to the gods, but only rules instead? Whatever it was she’d done, it must have been the worst of the worst.
Some terrans believed that wayward souls, the lost, the unloved, and those who’d made evil in their lives would find themselves in Abaddon after death. But even the worst of those never wound up here.
This, where she was right now, where Tantibus and his men thundered across a vast, terrible landscape, was the last stop
in a Hell-bound journey. From here, there was no way back. It was the point of no return.
Mortals could not come here after death because according to the religious stories, none were allowed to reside here but those born of Abaddonian blood. Up ahead, at the end of a narrow, winding ruby path hedged by cliffs on either side, was the looming, towering, insurmountable structure of Castle Nisse, the grand palace of Hell. It was the home of the Dark Lord, Tanith, the former bounty hunter and assassin lord who was now the ruthless ruler of the Ninth Circle, and all of Abaddon.
Summer would never see the light of the terran realm again…. She’d been right. The giant double doors had been a one-way entrance after all.
Chapter Nineteen
Raven’s eyes opened just a little wider. She processed Direan’s words. As she did, the wilted rose stem in his hand changed. The thorn, until now unused, began to morph and stretch out. Within seconds, it was transformed into a kind of blade. The remainder of the plant melted into itself, wrapping around the bottom of this deadly-edged blade and flattening out to form a kind of hilt to the thorn dagger.
By the time Raven had grasped the full meaning of his words and realized the intent of the bizarrely shifted thorn blade, Direan was already moving. She cried out, calling her brother’s name as she tried to get to her feet.
Direan’s speed blurred, and the fact that he was inhuman became exceedingly clear. He was turning, spinning in a whirl of gray that made him nearly indistinguishable from the rocks in the cave.
Loki was in the process of rising to his feet when Direan struck. The point of the thorn dagger sunk deep. Raven heard Loki cry out in pain. She almost felt the sound of something sharp piercing his flesh as Direan’s blade slid easily past his armor and into the muscle and organs underneath.
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