As she drew closer, it began drawing its lines for her as if it recognized her, creating a legend where there had been a blank page before. However, this time, rather than drawing them in black ink, the lines glowed red with ominous warning. The darkness on one side of the map was back, and now it loomed so close, it touched upon the outer edge of the drawn island that constituted their current place in Immeloria.
That’s what the fog had been trying to tell her. Danger was at their doorstep. Raven’s instincts kicked in. “Both of you, grab the supplies and take hold of the map, now!”
Both men were instantly surging forward, diving to grab their leather bags as they fell to their knees and grasped respective corners of the map. Raven reached for the weapons she’d taken off and fisted them tightly, thanking her lucky stars that she again wore her armor in full.
Sheer seconds after all three of them had firm grips upon the unrolled scroll, the map’s portal opened once more, and they were sent shooting through space and time.
By now, Raven was becoming accustomed to the way the portal magic felt. It was always reminiscent of being gently stretched in various directions. It wasn’t painful, but it was on the verge of being painful, as if it could rip her apart at any moment and there would be no warning. There would just be a sudden temper tantrum of the magic and a quick yank, and her substance would go swimming away in a thousand different directions.
The threat was always there. But at this point, Raven expected that threat, and for the most part, she expected not to be ripped to shreds.
Moments swam by in the entropy that was the portal. After a while, Raven made eye contact with her brother, and an unspoken exchange took place. This particular transport was taking longer than usual.
Raven glanced at the walls of the tube that represented their passage. Normally, they were constructed of sheer magic, an opalesque melting of colors that swirled and sparkled and begged for attention but would make you vomit if you looked too long. This time, however, the pearlescent white was darker, sporting shades of gray. The melted colors swirling within it consisted of primarily reds.
Just like the map, the portal was taking on a wicked hue, one it had never had before.
Raven wanted to warn her companions, but she had no idea what to say, and by the time she opened her mouth to utter a simple, “Be prepared,” the transportation tunnel was finally opening up again.
The other end swirled apart like a massive mouth, and as it always did with its unwitting passengers, it ejected the three of them through that hole with abject force.
Previous experience warned them all of this violent exit, and she and her companions hit the ground rolling. Raven came to a fortunate stop just shy of slamming her head into what looked like the stone leg of some kind of table. She was up and on her feet in record time.
But when her eyes scanned their surroundings, an awareness slammed into her, stealing her breath. The sudden, terrifying knowledge of where she was made itself clear in the very structure of her blood. It recognized its own realm. It hummed to life in her veins.
“Where in the nine hells are we?” asked Grolsch. Despite his attempt at a quiet question, his deep, throaty voice growled in the cold empty space.
Loki unsheathed his sword and took on a fighter’s stance. The weapon glowed a soft purple-white in the dim light. “I think you might have hit the nail on the head, Grolsch,” he replied just as quietly.
The atmosphere called for quiet. It was a place of shadows and secrets. Strange resonances of grunts, fumbling sounds, and the report of footfalls emanated from the far reaches of the room, where shadows were deepest. But they were distant, as if they’d happened in some other place and some other time, and were only remembered here.
Raven knew what those sounds were. They were the echoes of murders, of assassinations, and of captures that brought in pointlessly struggling bounties. Here, between the covers of the books that lined the walls, the history of every such crime was recorded as it occurred. It had been charmed to do so long, long ago, because records of completed jobs were always necessary. Proof was always required.
She knew where they were. She had never personally stepped foot into the massive ground room of this library, yet she could have given her brother and Grolsch a grand tour of the entire building. She knew it because….
She frowned. Because why? Was it enough that she carried Abaddonian blood? Was that the sole reason she knew every nook and cranny of this structure as if she’d built it herself?
“This is the Canton of Corpses,” she told them. Here, at these carved stone tables, assassins, thieves, and bounty hunters would sit, and if they stayed alive long enough, they would learn. They would read about stealth, sabotage, and revenge. Here, they gained the knowledge they could not find elsewhere, knowledge that would help them make their marks.
The vast ground room appeared to be empty at the moment. But here, appearances were deceiving. The walls were adorned with carvings of runes and symbols Raven vaguely recognized. But when she narrowed her gaze, they not only became clearer, they swirled menacingly, as if divulging information she didn’t really want. She looked away.
Other spaces along the walls sported stone book shelves, which were stacked tightly with countless leather-bound tomes. Aisles of these same types of shelves led off into tall shadows and deeper darkness.
The center of the building was dominated by a winding staircase of iron and stone. It climbed seven tall stories into a conical tower, at the top of which, Raven knew there was a locked room. Within this room were housed the most precious and rare manuals pertaining to the most elusive manners of diabolical treachery. Very few made it that high or that far, and often when they did, they found they didn’t have the right key. The term “knowledge is key” was literal in the reverse in the Canton of Corpses. Here, the right key meant knowledge.
There were no windows in this particular library. Windows were open portals through which arrows, darts, and other flying and poisoned weapons could make their lethal ways. All light was provided by magic that had been infused into the very architecture. If that wasn’t enough for someone to read by, they were free to provide their own light. But light made one visible, and like windows, visibility was another commodity these particular readers preferred to avoid.
“Few have ever made it to the top,” she whispered, spouting more of the knowledge she was slightly mystified she possessed. “That’s where we need to –”
But Loki cut her off before she could finish. “Did you say ‘Canton of Corpses’?” he asked. The tone of his voice told her he already knew that was exactly what she’d said, and that he couldn’t believe she had been about to say what she’d been planning to say.
Raven nodded, just once.
There was a long pause, filled with a glare of outright fury. In a low and seething tone, he asked, “Do you mean to tell me we’re in Phlegathos?”
She hesitated, but nodded again. They were indeed in the seventh plane of Abaddon. Dead center.
“Oh gods,” her brother choked out. The anger left his eyes, to be replaced with a hint of hopelessness.
His sentiment summed it up quite well. Traveling into Phlegathos not only constituted jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, it was the second worst circle of Abaddon they could have ended up in.
It was the circle that had once been ruled by Lord Darken.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Loki turned slowly in place, choosing not to look at his sister. He couldn’t meet her gaze, didn’t want her to see his disappointment and frustration. It wasn’t her fault they were in Abaddon.
Was it?
Or did she have that much of a death wish that she would somehow will them right into the very pit of the abyss so she could be with the crazed lunatic who wanted her as his queen? Maybe she was just as insane as he was. They were the same, after all. Of the same damned blood –
Wait, he told himself shakily, closing his eyes for just a moment as
a wave of nausea rolled through him. That isn’t right. He wasn’t being fair. It isn’t like that.
What was wrong with him?
It’s this place.
During their time in Immeloria, Loki had come to understand the person and the soul that was Raven Grey. He’d come to know her heart, her spirit, and even to understand how and why she could feel what she did for Drake of Tanith.
And witnessing what little he had of Drake’s terrible past in the vision that was brought on by Drake’s re-casting of his spell, Loki was even coming to comprehend how Drake, himself, had become the man and soul he now was.
So it was uncharacteristic of Loki to slide back into the intolerant state he’d been in long ago, when he and his sister had begun the perilous journey of discovery that had taught them about themselves. He no longer felt anger toward her for her Abaddonian side.
Did he?
It’s this place! he told himself again, more firmly this time.
Hell had a way of making you do and think crazy things. The problem was, it had to have a foundation to build that craziness upon. Nothing in Hell was random. If there was an anger in him now… it was building itself on anger he already had.
Which meant that he might not be quite as accepting of his sister and her Cainan blood as he would very much like to think he was.
Deal with it later, he told himself. At the moment, they needed to tend to the far more important task of getting out of Phlegathos. Alive.
“What do we do, Raven?” he asked tersely, his back still toward her. His gold eyes were scanning the long, dark shadows of the highly infamous library known as the Canton of Corpses. Gods, I never thought I would find myself here.
“We need to climb to the top,” she told them as if she’d been waiting for him to ask. Her own voice sounded tight. Foreign, even.
I’m treating her like dirt.
“To the Reading Room,” she continued. “But to open the door to the room, we’ll need the key.”
Grolsch, who hadn’t spoken since his first inquiry, now came forward, stopping between them. His physical presence between the siblings felt like an actual wall, strong and cold and hard, effective against the unspoken venom that had been passing from one to the other.
From me to her, he corrected himself.
It cleared his mind a little, and he turned in time to see Grolsch address his sister directly. “What kind of key is it that we need?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly what it is. I only know that you have to earn it.” She gestured to the winding staircase. “There are tests on each level. Passing each test will reward you with the key to the level above it.”
“Are we alone in here?” Grolsch asked next, his dark eyes skirting to the same shadows Loki was distrusting of.
“Yes,” Raven replied. She sounded firm in her response, as if she truly believed it to be the case, and he wondered how she knew.
And then it hit him.
How does she know anything about the Canton of Corpses? The only reason he knew about the library was because he’d studied about the nine circles in depth while serving in the Temple of Haledon. He’d never told her what he’d learned.
She knew this on her own, because of her ties to Abaddon, and most especially because of her ties to Drake and Darken.
She knew because of the mark Tanith had given her.
“Then let’s get started,” Grolsch growled. He grasped the handle of his axe and pulled the weapon out of its sling on his back. Then he marched to the base of the winding staircase. He stopped there and turned back to look at them both questioningly.
Raven seemed to shake herself out of whatever had been holding her in place. She moved to follow Grolsch before Loki did. Loki took a deep breath and felt his grip tighten on the handle of his sword. At least they were alone. Whatever bad luck had made the Hunter’s Map send them here had balanced it out a bit by allowing them to get by without a fight.
All the same, he wasn’t ready to sheathe his sword just yet.
He joined the others at the base of the stairs and followed their gazes to a small black box with a hand-sized hole in it attached to the railing on the right-hand side. It was unobtrusive and carved to match the banister, and if they hadn’t been searching for some sort of “test,” they probably would have discounted it and started up the stairs.
There was no door before them, and there appeared to be no lock.
“Why don’t we just walk up?” he asked.
Grolsch’s expression darkened, either with determination or grim knowledge. He lifted Haledon’s axe from his side and held it over the stairs. Slowly, he inched it upward. A zapping, crackling sound emitted from the axe’s blade where it touched an otherwise invisible force field. He gritted his big teeth, made a pain-filled growling sound as electricity or some other force moved through the blade and into the handle, and dropped the axe. It clanked noisily to the stone steps and tumbled off the staircase to land on the ground a few feet away.
Loki instantly felt both stupid and guilty. How could he have even assumed for one moment that something like this would allow them automatic passage?
Grolsch was cradling his axe arm when he grouchily said, “I think we should use the box.” He nodded at the small black box with the hand hole.
“Let me see your hand,” Raven offered, reaching out toward his obviously injured arm.
“There’s no time,” he said, waving her away. “I’ll be fine in a moment; it just shocked me.” The ork strode to his fallen axe, and leaned down to pick it up, this time with the other hand. “Tell us what to do now before we have company.”
Raven took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if to shrug off the obstinacy. Then she turned toward the little black box. There was only a brief hesitation before she raised her right hand and shoved it into the hole.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Raven, wait!” Loki obviously hadn’t been expecting Raven to simply put her hand in the box, which was why she’d done it quickly. It had been a strange intuition, just a feeling that this was what the test would really be. The library didn’t care about problem solving or riddles. It wanted to know who she was – and what she was made of. Placing her hand in the box exposed her to the magic at work and demonstrated sacrifice. That’s what the library wanted.
She was holding her breath when something in the stone compartment made a clicking sound, and suddenly, a band of cold metal was wrapped securely around her wrist.
“Oh gods, what was that?” Loki demanded, reaching for her arm. Fear at once lanced through Raven. Was she about to lose her hand? Be set on fire?
Perhaps the library didn’t like what she was made of! She’d failed the test already, and she hadn’t even gotten off the first floor!
“Maybe you and Grolsch should stand back!” she exclaimed, not knowing what else to do but try to save her brother. She yanked on her hand, but it wasn’t moving, not even with her brother’s added weight pulling on it. Whatever had her held her fast. “Loki, get back!” she begged, as fear thrummed through her heart like a rolling drum.
“Let me at it!” Grolsch commanded, stepping forward with his axe held aloft.
“I’ll get it to let go,” he growled.
But mere split seconds after the band had slid into place, the back of Raven’s neck began to tingle. It was such a strong sensation, so at odds with the cold fear that had encompassed the rest of her body, it drew her up short, and she stopped struggling.
As a result, Loki stopped as well, his expression at once questioning.
The warm tingle rapidly grew and deepened, heating like a brand that almost hurt. Raven frowned, placing her other hand against the skin under her hair. “Wait!” she said, as the heat quickly spread down her neck and into her shoulder. “Something’s happening!”
Grolsch barely managed to stop, the axe raised high above his head when he froze in place.
The heat raced down the length of Raven’s right arm, and fina
lly pooled in the palm of her trapped hand.
“The mark on your neck is glowing red,” Loki said softly, clearly mystified. His grip on her arm loosened and he stepped back.
Drake’s mark, Raven thought, and suddenly she understood what was happening.
The stone container around her hand looked as though it was heating up, beginning to glow like magma ore that was melting back into lava from its solid form. But the heat inside wasn’t painful; in fact, it was pleasant.
“It recognizes me,” she whispered. “I mean, it recognizes Drake.”
The metal band around her wrist clicked open, freeing her. She withdrew her hand – and in front of her, the force field crackled once more. They watched as it turned from transparent to opaque. At its center appeared a small red point that rapidly spread outward in a growing circle of fire that ate up the field and burned it away.
Within moments, the barrier that separated them from the second floor was gone.
“You mean it recognizes Darken,” Loki said softly.
Raven gave him a searching look. She nodded. “Let’s keep moving,” she told them, deciding to take his comment as both a good and bad sign. It meant he was differentiating between the two, between Drake and Darken, the way she did. Maybe he felt Drake wasn’t all-bad? But it also meant that if Drake and Darken never again separated, Loki would never come to accept the man that was Tanith.
With a spinning mind and grim determination, Raven took the first step up the winding staircase and lead the way to the second level. Their footfalls echoed against the rock walls of the canton, adding to the morbid echoes already in residence there.
The second floor looked much as the first, if just a bit smaller. There were fewer stone stacks, and they didn’t rise quite as high as those on the first floor. The ceiling was lower by a foot or so. Otherwise, they were identical.
The party stood on the landing of the second floor and viewed their surroundings at a winsome distance. Or, perhaps it was only Raven that felt winsome. It was an odd feeling for her to know that she was staring at something few others were capable of seeing. You’d have to go to Hell to see it, and then you’d have to find yourself in Phlegathos. You’d have to stay alive there, and then you’d have to pass the first level test. It was a rare thing, and she was fully aware of that.
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