The Word Changers

by Ashlee Willis

  “But where is it?” asked Kyran again. “Where is the doorway?”

  “Faith,” Stonus turned a look of gentle rebuke on Kyran. “It will appear when it is meant to, no sooner.”

  Posy stood shivering, waiting. She was faintly aware of the faraway sounds of the battle, and wondered if they were getting nearer.

  “Remember, my children,” said Stonus, his deep voice piercing the silence around them. “You go into a place of evil and treachery. What you think you can trust will deceive you; what pains you to do will perhaps be the thing that saves you.” He lifted his eyes to the thick tree line surrounding them, and Posy knew she wasn’t imagining it now; the sounds of fighting were very close. Why were the minutes passing so slowly?

  Suddenly, a subtle rumbling came from the ground beneath their feet. Stonus stamped his hooves in anticipation, his eyes still raking the dark edges of the glade for danger. The rumbling became shaking, and the shaking gave way to the sound of earth ripping and crumbling apart. Posy and Kyran looked down to see two stone columns rising from the ground, pushing through the soil and rising high above their heads.

  Kyran turned to Stonus abruptly and said, his voice urgent, “I must know ... why would enemies of yours, like the ipotanes, want to enter the Glooming? What has someone with evil intent to gain in that place?”

  Stonus’ eyes glimmered and darkened in the shadowy moonlight, and for a moment it looked as if he might not answer. His face a mask, his tone carefully controlled, he, at last, answered, “The Glooming has many outlets and entrances; this is only one of many.” He gestured toward the raised columns. “Depending on where an army may want to attack, one of these entrances may be crucial in the winning of a war. And what’s more, there are ... powers that lie sleeping in the Glooming that could prove useful to the ipotanes in battle, though they are dangerous and sometimes deadly to awaken.”

  “Why did Faxon not tell us?” Kyran asked incredulously, his dark eyes growing wide.

  Stonus shook his head. “What has it to do with what you seek? What has it to do with the princess?”

  “Everything!” Kyran’s voice exploded. “It has everything to do with it! My father is at war with the Wild Land, in case you’ve forgotten. He wishes to kill all the centaurs, and probably now even me. What better way to ... to ...” his voice spluttered out angrily.

  They all grew suddenly silent, though, when a new sound burst into the clearing. Posy barely had time to see the group of ipotanes and soldiers making toward them over Stonus’ shoulder before Stonus turned, his broad form blocking her view, and said, his voice low and urgent, “Go—now.”

  “But—” Posy started, staring at the columns.

  “It is a doorway. Simply walk through the columns.” Stonus had one strong hand on Posy’s shoulder, gently pushing her toward the door, and the other hand was at his sword. The ipotanes were nearly upon them. She turned quickly to Kyran, thinking they would walk through the doorway together, when she saw that he had drawn his sword and had his back to the door, facing their attackers.

  “Kyran, no!” Posy cried, but he showed no indication of hearing her.

  “Posy is right,” Stonus’ voice was so low Posy barely heard him. “You must go now, or you will miss it. The door only remains open for a few minutes’ time.”

  “Then I will have to miss it. I will not run the other way and leave you alone to defend us, if that is what you are asking.”

  Posy felt certain that was exactly what Stonus was asking, and she waited for Stonus to make an argument. But he merely nodded his head once, his eyes on the approaching enemy, and unsheathed his sword. This was a race of creatures, she reminded herself, who did not push, force or bully, and she could see Stonus had accepted Kyran’s right to make this decision.

  “However,” Kyran said, turning to Posy, “you will not miss the door because of me, and I will not have you standing here in danger. I will follow you as swiftly as I can, Posy—I swear to you.”

  Posy didn’t even have time to process what was happening or what he meant. Kyran took her shoulders and gently but firmly spun her around and pushed her through the middle of the columns. Immediately Posy met with resistance. It wasn’t a forceful feeling, but odd—as if she were pushing through an invisible web. She turned around to look back through the doorway, to see Kyran and Stonus, but all she could see were dim shapes moving as if she were looking through very old, mottled glass. She could hear the sounds of fighting, too, although they sounded distant and muffled. She thought she saw a blurred flutter of wings swoop above the fighting forms, but she could have been mistaken. Instead of moving forward, she decided to wait, suspended as she was and with the air around her pressing in on her uncomfortably.

  “I’m waiting for you,” she tried to call to Kyran, but it was as if her voice met with a solid wall, and no sound came. Whether the words were spoken or not, she stubbornly waited. She tried in vain to make out which shape was which through the other side of the door. Was that Kyran? Had he taken a slash to his arm? Was it Stonus who had fallen to the ground, or an ipotane? Just as she was beginning to feel the beginnings of true fear for the two of them fighting alone, something happened to cause her even more concern.

  It began as a slight rumble, as it had begun before. Only this time, the columns began to move slowly downward. In alarm, Posy began trying again to call to Kyran, but it was no use. She stared through the thickened air around her at the distorted figures, a wild anticipation thrilling through her body. Please, Kyran, she said desperately to herself, please don’t leave me here alone.

  When Posy thought the columns were nearly too low to allow anyone to crawl in, she saw a figure running headlong toward them. When the form reached the entrance, it dropped down and slid forward, straight through the swiftly-shrinking doorway and toward her. The atmosphere slowed him the minute he was through the door; otherwise, he would have crashed right into Posy. As it was, his body pierced the web of air around her, his arm reached out to wrap around her and pulled her with him through the dense resistance until they were beyond the doorway and into the Glooming.

  * * *

  When Posy looked to her side, she thought she could still see distorted shadows of the glade as if they passed through it in a dense, dreamlike haze. But soon they began to descend, and it grew darker and more difficult for a while until, suddenly, the resistance ended and they came bursting into a narrow passage that smelled strongly of earth. It was impossibly dark, and they both had to feel cautiously around. They discovered that it smelled of earth because that was what the entire chamber was made of.

  “We are underground,” stated Kyran, wiping his soiled hands on his pants.

  “Great. And how are we supposed to see anything?” asked Posy, making a face in the darkness.

  “We don’t.”

  “How do we know where to go? How do we know we won’t fall off a ledge somewhere to our deaths?”

  “We don’t know, Posy,” Kyran’s voice sounded blunted as it thudded into the walls of packed dirt that rose around them. “No one said this was going to be easy.”

  “No,” answered Posy, and she felt her shoulders droop, suddenly very weary. Though they could not see each other, it was as if Kyran knew her thoughts, and she felt his arm go around her in a brief, awkward embrace. “My sister has been here,” he said, his voice full of forced hope. “She passed through this exact spot only days ago. We are close, Posy, I know we are. And we’re together. I’m glad of that. I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

  His words flooded Posy with warmth, and she knew they were at peace again. Had it really been today that they had argued, met with the centaur council, watched the horrors of the battlefield? It all seemed so long ago.

  “Yes,” Posy said, straightening her shoulders and shaking her head as if she could shrug away her weariness and deny the fear that this place made her feel. “You’re right, Kyran, we are close. We’ve got to be.”

  They walked for a long t
ime down the narrow earthy passage. It was a slow process, for Kyran was walking ahead and using his hands to inspect every inch of the tunnel before they proceeded into it. He wanted to take no chances, now that they had gone this far. After they had been in utter darkness so long, it was hard to tell, but Posy began to imagine she could sense a faint light. When she could make out Kyran’s silhouette in front of her, she let out an exclamation.

  “It’s getting lighter,” she said excitedly.

  “Hmm,” Kyran said. “I thought so.”

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Posy said when she heard the skepticism in his voice.

  “That depends on where the light is coming from and who or what is making it. We’ll have to be extremely careful now. No more words, even a whisper, until we know it’s safe. And stay behind me.”

  They continued down the passage toward the light, the sound of their footsteps deadened by the damp earth all around them. The ground beneath them began to flatten and harden, and Posy looked down to see the floor of the tunnel was now stone. The light ahead of them grew brighter and brighter until there could be no doubt that it led to a room. Kyran stopped and squeezed Posy’s arm when they both heard the voices that came from the room ahead of them.

  “People—many of them, by the sound of it,” said Kyran in disbelief. “What do they do here?”

  As they crept closer to the narrow crevice of rock that led to the room beyond, Posy could hear the voices, and they reminded her of something. It sounded like the content and happy conversation of a relaxed gathering of friends. There was the tinkle of glass, laughter springing up here and there amidst the murmur of voices. It reminded Posy of the sounds at her house when all her family stayed for Christmas, happy in each others’ company, laughing at each other’s jokes. She felt herself warm to it, and straightened from her crouched position as if drawn to the room beyond.

  Kyran grasped her arm and yanked her back down next to him. “What are you doing?” he hissed in her ear.

  “Don’t you hear?” Posy answered with a smile, unabashed. “Don’t you hear how they sound?”

  “Yes, I hear, all right,” Kyran whispered, staring at her. “And I don’t care for it. Why should a happy gathering of people be here, in this place, Posy?”

  But all she could think about was the feeling she had while listening to those voices—as if she had come to a place like home. As if she was wrapped in comfort, and completely secure. As if nothing could shake the solid ground beneath her.

  Kyran shook his head. “We’re not going in there until we know what’s going on.” He latched his arm around her tightly—so tightly that any other time Posy would have cried out and tried to shake him off. But not now, for she was in reverie and she couldn’t be disturbed by anything. Anything—except what they saw next.

  Just as they came to the opening in the rock and peered through, and Posy was feeling as if she would have to break away from Kyran and rush into the friendly warmth of the room, the veil was torn away. Her senses seemed to clash together. What her ears heard and what her eyes saw were at terrible odds, and she stood rooted to the ground, her breath quickening and heart beating rapidly. Now Kyran’s arm tight around her seemed the only security she had at all. She turned to him and saw the horror and disgust on his face, as it must have been on her own.

  The room beyond was filled with the light of a thousand candles. It was filled with tables and chairs, the stone floor shimmering like waxed marble. A hearth was ablaze at one end of the room. All around the room were the people whose voices they had heard, reclining, laughing, and standing in groups all about the chamber, talking happily. People, yes, for people they must have once been. Posy felt a shudder run through her entire body as her eyes swept the length of the room.

  When Posy and Kyran thought of it afterwards, it was hard to get a picture in their minds, although they vividly remembered the feeling of coldness and dread when they first saw the wraithlike creatures. They were not ghosts exactly—not skeletons either. They had skin, but not enough of it to cover all their bones, it seemed. It was stretched horribly across cheekbones and thighs, shoulders and ribs. The hollows of their eye sockets were large and shadowed. Their clothes looked like finery, only they were made of something that looked to Posy like cobwebs, and it trailed in a ghostly cloud behind the figures as they moved about the room.

  “No,” was all she could say, barely a whisper. “What are they?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyran said with difficulty. “I only care how we are to get past them unseen. I’ve a feeling my sword would be no use against them.”

  “If we can’t touch them, maybe they can’t touch us,” suggested Posy hopefully, but Kyran only grunted, his gaze sharp.

  “There,” he said with a slight gesture toward the far side of the room. “I see another opening similar to this one.”

  It was barely a shadow against the wall, a darkened gash running up the side of the stone that flickered with ghostly candlelight. “So ... do we make a run for it?” whispered Posy, her teeth beginning to chatter.

  Kyran let out a dubious snort of breath, but said nothing; he had no other suggestion to make. He had never come up against something that his sword couldn’t handle.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Let’s wait and see if anything else happens, though.”

  “Anything else—like what else?” Posy asked incredulously. “We are not waiting for something even worse. I mean, look at it this way—at least they all seem happy right now. As far as this type of circumstance goes, that’s got to be good, right?”

  After a long silence, Kyran finally nodded once. “All right,” he conceded quietly. “We run.”

  Posy’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly steeled herself against her fear. Kyran stood and turned his dark eyes on her face entreatingly. “I want you to run as if a nightmare were chasing you—as if hell were grasping at your heels. Don’t look around you and don’t try to go anywhere or touch anything until you get to the opening.”

  “And you?” asked Posy calmly, though her heart was beating so loudly now she thought he must hear it.

  “Don’t think about me—I’ll be behind you. Just think about getting to that door and don’t stop for anything, do you hear? Not anything.”

  “Fine,” she bit her lip and felt her eyes slide to the light and warmth of the room beyond them, filled with such grisly horror.

  “Ready?” Kyran said as they both edged toward the creviced rock. “Go.” He pushed her lightly from behind. For a moment Posy felt as if she had frozen, then her legs sprung into action as if they had come to life on their own. She immediately wanted to turn for the reassurance of Kyran running behind her, but she knew she couldn’t dare to do it.

  It happened slowly at first, their noticing her. Even with her racing heart and her fear practically suffocating her, she could still sense the difference in the room. It became quiet for a drawn-out moment. The voices hushed, the music stopped, the clinking of glass was quieted. Only silence and a terrible coldness now filled the room. Still Posy kept running without looking anywhere but her destination. Until she heard Kyran.

  When she heard him calling out, it was as if an icy finger had trailed down her spine. Her feet immediately slowed, and she turned to look, though she knew as she did it that she shouldn’t. She couldn’t help it. Kyran lay on the floor of the chamber, his sword lying some feet away from him as if he had drawn it to fight and had it knocked from his hands. He was curled oddly, almost like a child, and his black hair fell over his face as he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around himself and whimpering.

  Not one of the wraiths in the room was near enough to be harming him. They all just silently watched as Kyran cried weakly as if in pain, or deathly afraid. Then Posy began to see shapes around her—faint at first and then stronger, brightly colored, terrifyingly dark. She knew the images at once for her worst fears, things she dreaded, nightmares she never wished to revisit. It was as if her very feelings had ta
ken shape and put on faces. Helplessness and anger and an emptiness so deep it made her gasp – there they all stood, staring at her from empty eyes, as real as she. They began to circle in toward where she stood rooted to the ground. She heard her own voice as if from a distance as she cried out and tried to cower away from what she saw. Black thoughts and horrors swam around and through her, and she felt as if her body was fading, and nothing would be left of her but raw fear.

  A flash of something flitted through the darkness in her mind, like the white wing of a bird in the dark of night. She grasped at it, tried to see what it was. It was a voice. Her mother's? Her father’s? Kyran’s? She couldn’t tell. A person she loved. A bit of her heart thawed when she heard it, and she felt the rest of her body fight wildly in pursuit of it.

  “Posy, darling, remember your coat.”

  Her mother, then. She must have said those words to Posy a thousand times, but why she thought of it now she didn’t know. But her mother’s voice, and the love she felt for her, were enough. With a groan, Posy opened her heavy eyes and gazed around the chamber, her eyelids drooping. They were gone. A swirl of mist, a sprinkling of dust upon the stone floor, was all that was left of the creatures who had surrounded them and infected them with darkness. Even the fire had turned into a pile of ashes in the cold hearth. Posy lifted herself up and looked over to where Kyran was moaning and rolling over on his side.

  “Posy,” he said faintly, reaching a feeble hand for hers. “What saved us?”

  “My mother,” Posy said, her voice shaking. “I thought of my mother, and how ... how I love her.”

  Kyran reached up to brush a tear from Posy’s cheek, giving her a sad smile. “Your mother saved you, then. But it was you who saved me.”