The Word Changers

by Ashlee Willis

  “What?” Posy looked up at him.

  “You. It was you I thought of in the darkest moment. It was you who brought me back to myself.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Horrors, Inside and Out

  They slept huddled together, under Kyran’s cloak, leaning against a dirt wall in one of the many tunnels that wound through the Glooming. They did not take turns sleeping, but fell asleep together. Posy knew this probably wasn’t a good idea, but they were both too utterly exhausted to be cautious now. Posy couldn’t remember the last time they had slept—not since before they had reached the glade.

  There was no daylight, and no way of knowing when morning came. Posy and Kyran woke several hours later. Posy felt the darkness of the Glooming seep into her before she opened her eyes, but there was something else in her now ... something new. It wasn’t happiness—no, nothing so superficial—but it was something with goodness too strong to be frightened away by this darkness. For the moment, anyway, it was difficult for her to imagine anything worse than what they had come across already, and she somehow felt they must be near to finding the princess. She felt hope.

  After some debate, they decided to venture back into the chamber they had come from the night before, to see if there were any embers at all on the fire, and make a torch. At first Posy had been completely opposed to this. She thought they would come across the creatures again. But Kyran told her they would be nowhere without some light, and he crept back to the chamber. He came back triumphantly a few minutes later, with one of the torches that had lined the stone walls of the chamber in his hand, lit from the embers of the fire that had burnt out in the hearth. There had been no sign that the ghostly creatures had ever been there at all.

  So they set out again, through endless tunnels. Several times, they came upon chambers, and every time Posy felt her heart give a lurch, but they didn’t come across anything more terrifying than a rat in any of them. At last, though, Kyran gave a snort of impatience and stopped short.

  “We are going nowhere,” he stated tensely.

  “Nowhere?”

  “One empty chamber after another, nothing changing, no perceptible decline or incline to the tunnels. We don’t even know that we haven’t been traveling in circles for the past two hours.”

  Posy had to admit that he was right. They had no way to gauge the direction they were going.

  “I suppose we could do as Hansel and Gretel did, although I’m not sure what we’d use. It’s not as if we’ve got bread with us.”

  Kyran’s dark eyebrows shot up. “And who are Hansel and Gretel? Friends of yours?”

  Posy laughed before she could stop herself. “No,” she said. “Well, I mean ... they’re from a story, in my world.”

  “A story, is it? Very interesting. People in books are generally quite intelligent, so I’ve been told.” He gave her the hint of a smile.

  Posy smiled in return. “They were a brother and sister, led into the forest and left to die, but they left crumbs behind them to mark where they had been, and found their way home.”

  “Hmph. Sounds like a fairytale,” said Kyran dismissively.

  Posy wanted to tell him they were in a fairytale right now, but after all the things that had happened to her, she wouldn’t. It wasn’t a fairytale any longer.

  “Anyway, if we had something to leave behind us, we’d at least know we had already passed this way if we came across it again.”

  “Yes,” Kyran considered it. “But we can leave something behind.”

  “Like what?” Posy asked.

  “This.” Kyran held the torch up to the cave’s stone wall, making large scorch marks in the shape of a cross.

  It wasn’t long before their plan worked for them. They circled back on a tunnel they had come from, and turned the opposite way. Every time this happened, they would turn the way they hadn’t been down before. At last, they came to a chamber that was different from the others. At first Posy couldn’t quite picture what was different. The same dirty floor, the same stone walls jutting with roots. Then she saw the small depression in the wall, and something within it glowing dimly into the darkness of the room. Posy began to make her way across the room, but Kyran grabbed her arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I see something.”

  “Yes, as do I. What of it? You can’t just go traipsing over there. I suppose you’ve already forgotten what happened only hours ago in another chamber of this cursed place?”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Posy said meekly. “But look around. This room is like a dead end. There’s no way out except the way we just came in.”

  “Hmph,” was all Kyran said in response. He drew his sword and began to make his way cautiously across the room toward the gap in the wall. Posy followed closely behind him. When they reached it, they saw a small table with a golden cup on it, set with rubies, pearls and diamonds. It was filled with a deep red liquid, like wine, and the cup was so luminous it seemed to put out a light of its own.

  “What is it?” Posy whispered, peering over Kyran’s shoulder.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I sense magic,” he said with distaste. “We shouldn’t disturb it.” He began to back away from it, pushing Posy behind him.

  “But what else are we to do?” Posy argued. “There is nowhere else to go. We can’t just leave this room and follow the same tunnels we’ve been walking in all day. Not a single chamber has been different until this one—this chamber which doesn’t have any other doors. It has to be significant ... doesn’t it?”

  Kyran rolled his eyes. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

  “I think one of us has to drink it,” she answered simply.

  “Oh, no,” Kyran immediately answered. “That we will not do.”

  “I’m not excited about it myself. But what else are we to do?” Posy was completely terrified when she thought about drinking that dark, blood-red liquid. What horrors would it bring? But she also knew that there was no other way. With this thought in her mind, and before she could let her fear get hold of her too tightly, she made her way across the chamber, straight to the golden cup.

  “No!” Kyran cried, his voice breaking in fear. “Posy, don’t!” He ran to her side and seized the cup from her hand before she could drink. “I’ll do it, then, you infuriating, willful girl.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I won’t let it be you, that’s why. I must keep you safe, Posy.”

  At Kyran’s tone, Posy looked up into his face. Without thinking, and with a rush of fevered thrill, she reached up and pressed her lips to his. She immediately felt fire shoot through her veins, and then felt so weak she thought she’d collapse. Kyran wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she gasped. When she at last pulled away from him, they stood looking at each other silently. Posy saw Kyran’s dark eyes fill with something that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. Then without a word, he grasped the cup and put it to his mouth, tilting his head so that his black hair brushed his back, drinking to the last drop.

  At first Posy thought nothing was going to happen. Then they both heard it. The room seemed to shudder around them, the very air shivered and ruffled like an invisible cloak, and they heard a deep rumbling sound. Posy looked at Kyran and had barely opened her mouth to speak when, to her horror, he began to change before her eyes. His body seemed to blur as the noise in the room increased. From somewhere—perhaps the walls—came a violent gust of air, and it seemed to blow Kyran apart. Posy saw the lines of his body and face dissolve and disappear into the wind that blew around the entire chamber. A full-fledged storm had broken within the walls of the room. Posy’s mouth gaped in awe when she saw a fierce knife of lightning explode across the room, and she felt heavy drops of rain begin to splash her face.

  “Kyran!” she screamed frantically, her eyes darting wildly around the chamber in search of him. But he was gone, vanished as if he had never been. She struggled around the chamber, searching every da
rk corner, determined to leave no gap unsearched. The wind howled mercilessly in her ears, seeming to swarm into her mind, and the rain soaked her so thoroughly she felt heavy-footed as she walked through the chamber, stumbling several times. She felt her mouth working, forming desperate words, sensed the tightness in her throat that felt like a rising scream.

  Then she saw him. Kyran stood in the center of the chamber, smiling at her. Posy gasped his name in relief and began faltering toward him, but then her heart lurched. Next to Kyran stood someone else. She could scarcely believe her eyes, and she blinked violently several times as her lashes dripped water down her face. It was another Kyran. Two Kyrans standing next to one another.

  One of Posy’s best friends in her own world had been a twin sister, so she knew well enough the subtle differences to look for—ones that are obvious to fond and familiar eyes. But when she gazed at both of the Kyrans staring back at her, she saw no differences at all. They might as well have been the same. Then the horrible thought came to her, what if they are the same? What if the potion he drank had split him in two?

  “Kyran,” she called through the baying of the wind. “What is this? What has happened?”

  The first Kyran looked calmly at her and smiled. “I suppose that cursed potion I took did this to me. It’s pretty clear what you’ll have to do now, Posy.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked, incredulous at his composure.

  “You’ll have to choose, Posy. Choose which is the true Kyran. That’s the only way for me to be whole again.”

  “But,” cut in the second Kyran suddenly, “if you are wrong ...”

  “If I’m wrong?” gulped Posy.

  “If you are wrong,” the second Kyran’s dark eyes widened in an almost childlike fear, “I think I will be divided forever.”

  “Forever?” repeated Posy mechanically.

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” nodded the first Kyran, giving the second a distasteful glance. “Although why he’s so worried I don’t know. I trust you, Posy. Implicitly.” His black eyes sparkled as he gave her his most charming smile.

  “Do you?” the second Kyran almost shouted, his voice panicked. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Posy asked, wondering if she trusted herself. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, with the storm raging around her head. She couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of it.

  The second Kyran looked at her askance, his dark hair hanging limply on his shoulders, dripping in the torrential rain. “No,” he answered falteringly. “That is, I don’t know. I don’t trust anything in this room. Do you?”

  Posy looked about her, squinting against the blowing storm. “No,” she shook her head. She looked back at both of the Kyrans, and she was terrified. This was her choice, and if she was wrong, it would ruin Kyran forever. Would he truly be half a person, maimed in his soul and possibly his body, if she made the wrong choice? Her thoughts seemed to crescendo upward and out of control, as if the squall around her carried them with it. She shook her head, her wet hair slapping her cheek. She felt as if she could scream her frustration, but it wouldn’t be heard above the din of noise that seemed to swallow her.

  Closing her eyes against the flashes of lightning and the relentless sting of the rain, Posy tried to think. She tried to picture any place but this one. She tried to picture Kyran as she knew him, not as the two who stood before her now, who were somehow so like him, but both so completely wrong. But she couldn’t see him. If I don’t know who Kyran is—who does? She asked herself silently, almost frantically. And the answer seemed to float into her mind. The Author knew. For hadn’t he written Kyran?

  “But he’s not here!” shouted Posy in helpless frustration.

  Both Kyrans eyed Posy suspiciously at this outburst, but they seemed to blur from her vision. The wind and rain, the lightning and clouds, seemed to fade from her sight and grow quieter. A whisper, as light as the faintest feather touch, curled its way into Posy’s conscious. Posy felt her being seem to release into the quiet bubble she was in amidst the storm, and she heard the words brush softly against her ears. What you think you can trust will deceive you. What pains you to do will save you.

  A corner of her mind recognized the words, but she couldn’t remember where she had heard them. It didn’t matter. They were there, whispering to her, clearer and clearer, despite the rage of thunder and rain around her. Any other time she would have scoffed at their lack of clarity and called them a riddle. Somehow she knew what to do.

  “Kyran!” she gasped, as if she had been holding her breath.

  “Yes?” they said in unison, staring intently at her.

  “You are both Kyran, but you are neither one Kyran at all.”

  A flash of something passed behind the first Kyran’s eyes, but he visibly quashed it and said lightly, “My dear, that is a wonderful puzzle, but I believe you are trying to take the easy way out.” His voice hardened. “Name one of us, quickly, before we both disappear.”

  His words gave Posy a start. Would they both disappear? If she did this wrong, would she ever see Kyran again? But she shook her head as if to rid it of the thought, and stated strongly, “I cannot trust either of you, but then, neither of you is Kyran. You are both part of him, but one without the other is not him at all. It is impossible to name one of you.” Her voice became unsteady. “I have to name you both at once.” Didn’t she?

  At Posy's words, the storm began to churn to an amazing pitch, swirling and screaming about their heads. “Oh, no,” Posy thought, watching the blackened clouds swarm above her head with wide eyes. “I’ve killed him, I’ve killed him.”

  As if to prove her right, the first Kyran let out a piercing cry that rose above the storm. The second began to whimper as if in pain, and Posy couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears running down his face. But he looked straight into Posy’s face, and she saw his mouth form words—she couldn’t quite make them out—just before they both disappeared in a violent flash of lightning.

  The instant they disappeared, the room grew silent. The wind died as if someone had closed a lid on it, the black clouds dissipated, and even the walls and floor were completely dry. It was as if the storm had never been. But Posy looked down at herself and knew it had, for she was dripping with water from head to toe, leaving a widening puddle on the stone floor.

  She put her hands up to cover her face, but she couldn’t even cry. She felt turned inside out, with hardly the strength to stand.

  “Posy,” she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned as if she were in a dream and saw Kyran standing close next to her, a half smile on his lips. She didn’t say his name. She didn’t say anything. She just leaned forward and put her head on his shoulder and gave a weary sigh, as if every emotion had been pushed out of her and she had none left. He put his arms around her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Changing Words

  A door had formed upon one of the stone walls of the chamber. The magic of the storm that had taken Kyran and then sent him back again had created the door, and they knew that the test of the chalice had been passed, and they were to proceed through it. The door towered high above their heads and the only indication that it was there was its faint gold outline, as if a line had been etched into the stone and filled with gold dust. The door would not open like any other door. Kyran pressed his hand flat in the middle of it, but nothing happened. Posy did the same. Only when they both put their hands on it did the door begin to moan and crack until its enormous weight shifted and it opened on invisible hinges.

  As Posy took a step into the darkened threshold, she felt Kyran’s hand whip out and grab her shoulder to pull her back. She looked down at her feet and realized a narrow, dark hole of a staircase descended steeply downward, right in front of her. Another step and she would have stumbled and fallen down the chipped stone stairs.

  “Oh, no,” Posy shook her head. She felt weary to her bones. The thought of descending into that blackness below them—she did
n’t think she could do it. Kyran nodded, understanding, but Posy saw the glance he cast over his shoulder. He had no wish to return to the room they had just come from. It was as if the two sides of himself that Posy had so obviously seen before had come as a surprise to him. Perhaps he was not eager to be haunted with the memories of his own extremes again. Posy tried to imagine what it would be like to see herself in such a way ... split down the middle, with her fear in one body and her stubbornness in the other. But surely it hadn’t been only bad—surely the goodness that she knew was in Kyran had been in those two who had stood before her—hadn’t it? To lose oneself, and be left only with a distorted, corrupted shell of whom you had been .... Posy shuddered, a feeling like sickness wrapping around her mind.

  “We won’t go back into that chamber,” Posy said, keeping her voice light. “What if the door were to close on us again and we were locked in? No, we can sleep here, on this landing.” They both looked down at the stone floor. Perhaps three feet of it stretched between the doorway they had come from and the first descending stair. It would have to do.

  Without another word, Kyran removed his cloak and spread it on the floor. They both sat, leaning against the wall. Kyran pulled some food from his bag and they shared it, huddled together like fugitives in the shadowed space. Posy drew her water flask out of her own bag and drank deeply. She knew she should try to conserve what they had, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She felt the water go down her throat, and it seemed the only pure and clear thing in this dark place.

  The enormity of their experience seemed to seep into Posy’s conscience in a kind of haze. She could not be sorry for it; she was no longer even much surprised at it. But she knew it all had significance somehow. She suddenly wondered if the Author knew she was here, in this book. And if he did know, what must he think of her, and of Kyran, trying to change his story, rearrange the words?