Ascendant (The Shift Chronicles Book 4)

by Eva Truesdale

  He landed on the other side and slid for several feet across the muddy ground. A powerful shudder ripped through his entire body, and he gave himself a shake, but within seconds he was already calmly looking back at me. (The energy is much easier to stand on this side, at least.)

  I jumped through so I could see for myself.

  (You’re right,) I said, finding my balance and shaking the lingering tingle of electricity from my fur. After searching for—and not finding—any more promising paths, I started for the one that led down into the cave. (I still don’t understand how I missed that energy from the other beach. How I didn’t see this barrier here.)

  (They aren’t meant to be obvious to the eye, unless something triggers them. In this case, Carrick’s return triggered it into becoming stronger, most likely. It’s another reason I’m almost certain he’s here now. Somewhere…)

  The thought, though not unexpected, automatically raised the fur along the back of my neck.

  We picked our way silently over the rocks and mud, splashing into clear, ankle-deep water that started at the very mouth of the cave and went further in than we could see. I glanced back, one last time, at what I could see of the ones I’d left behind. Just specks on the beach, now.

  I waded into the cave.

  The ceiling rose, thankfully, much higher than I’d expected it would. But after only ten feet or so, the water—and the path it had carved—curved, and walking around the bend brought us into almost pitch blackness. That water seemed to be growing deeper, too. Soon it was almost up to my belly.

  (How much deeper do you think this gets when the tide lifts?) I wondered, my gaze drifting up to what little I could see of the ceiling.

  (Let’s just keep moving,) he replied.

  So we did. For what had to have been at least a mile, we waded on with nothing for company except each other and the echo of our breathing and our feet sloshing through the water. I tried not to think about the ones I was leaving further and further behind, but I couldn’t help it.

  (What did Kael say to you?) I asked after a few minutes. (Right before we left, I mean.)

  We turned another corner before he could answer, and we found ourselves facing an expansive grotto that offered us a little more light; there were strands of orange sunlight beaming through a few small openings in the ceiling, illuminating the pool of cerulean sea we were walking through. My gaze was immediately drawn to the wall across from us, where a set of stone steps stretched up against the wall they seemed to have been carved out of. They were being illuminated by one of those stray bits of sunlight from above. A moss-like substance clung to the steps, drooping down and kissing the water below. And above them hung more of that moss—except it seemed to be glowing, not with any help from stray sunlight, but with its own internal, phosphorescent green radiance.

  It all looked unnatural. But beautiful. Gorgeous in the same otherworldly way that Carrick was gorgeous, and the longer I looked it all over, the harder I had to fight to keep my hackles from raising and a growl from rumbling in my throat.

  I forgot about my question to Joseph, and I waded into deeper water and swam toward the staircase.

  The lichen-covered steps were slick. I tested my footing as I waited for Joseph to catch up, and I lifted my snout into the air and breathed in deep. Closed my eyes for a moment and listened. The things I sensed only proved confusing, though—an indecipherable tangle of scents and sounds that reminded me of how useless it always was to try and properly track any of the feral.

  The only clear thing I felt wasn’t from my wolf senses at all, but from a tugging at my human mind and heart.

  Both of which were telling me to climb these steps.

  I kneaded my claws in and out of the spongy moss stuff, and, once I was confident that I had found the best way to keep my grip on it, I bounded up a few feet. I was almost at the top when one of the steps crumbled beneath my paw. My body pitched wildly as I tried to regain my balance; I almost lost it completely and went tumbling over the side, into water that was at least thirty feet below me by this point.

  Breathing hard, I finally steadied myself, and then I glanced back to make sure Joseph was still safely following me. He was only a few steps below. But he wasn’t what my gaze lingered on.

  Because there was something incredibly strange happening behind him.

  There was a barrier forming at the foot of the stairs. It didn’t stop with blocking off our safest exit, though; within seconds it had wrapped around on every other side, too, fully encasing us along with the steps. I hopped a few more feet to reach the top, but found that barrier cutting off the flat summit that I’d been making my way toward.

  And as I inched closer to inspect it, Joseph’s voice barreled so loudly into my thoughts that I almost lost my balance again. (Don’t touch it.)

  Almost as soon as he said it, I felt the massive amount of negative energy flowing through the air, encasing me and suffocating me much like the barrier itself had swallowed up these steps.

  (What is this?) I said, drawing back.

  Joseph slowly climbed to my side, his head low and ears pinned warily back. (A trap, it seems.)

  (I could have guessed that much—but what kind of trap, exactly? It looks like the barrier outside. But it doesn’t feel like that.)

  (No—because it’s not. This is not natural. It’s a sort of bastardization, a black magic version of that barrier outside. And walking through it would almost certainly be a very bad idea. A fatal idea.)

  (So we’re trapped here? Either until we die, or until whoever set this trap comes to finish us off?)

  He was quiet for a long moment before he said, (I don’t think anyone is coming to finish me off.)

  Something about his tone was off in a way that I couldn’t understand—that I didn’t want to understand, maybe. Because it was already making me even more uneasy than the barrier itself.

  And because he had said me instead of us.

  (Then we just need to focus on finding a way out of here,) I said, pointedly.

  (I know the way out.) His eyes drifted to the section of barrier behind me. (And Carrick knows that I do, I’m sure.)

  (Then why set this trap… why would he…)

  My thoughts trailed off. Because our gazes met, and suddenly I knew what was about to happen.

  (You can neutralize it. Can’t you?)

  Instead of answering my question, he slowly shifted back to his human form.

  (This almost killed you last time. And if this black magic, if this is different, if it’s more powerful, then there’s no telling what might happen to you—)

  (I know what will happen.)

  (You can’t.)

  But he was already doing it.

  His hand was already reaching toward the barrier. I could see the energy of it already starting to pull toward him— like little wisps of smoke that were settling into his skin.

  I started to lunge for him, to knock him away from that dark energy, but his voice made me freeze mid-step. “If you still wanted to know the answer to your question from earlier: Don’t let her die in there. That’s the last thing he said to me. And I owe him that much, at least.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Good-bye, Alex,” he said, and then he took a step backward into the barrier.

  Twenty-Seven

  force

  (NO. No, no, no!)

  His body convulsed, absorbing the energy and creating a path to the top.

  His eyes shut tightly.

  And then he fell, tumbled over the side, and landed in the water below.

  For several moments after he slipped under the surface, the sea water diffused the energy he’d absorbed, which gave the water an eerie glow of its own. It clearly illuminated his body, made it easy to see him floating lifelessly beneath rings that were still spreading outward from the point where he’d hit.

  My first instinct was to race down, to get to a lower point where I could jump safely in after him. But the barrier at
the foot of the stairs, and along most of the side—save for the area where he’d tumbled through—still remained.

  I couldn’t get to him without enduring a thirty foot fall myself.

  And then I realized that the path he’d cleared to the top was already closing.

  I had no time to think; I hurtled up the few remaining steps and dove through the tear in the barrier. The converging, dark energy singed the tips of my fur. I landed awkwardly on the other side and had to scramble to keep myself from sliding over the edge of what turned out to be a very narrow platform of stone.

  I flattened myself against the stone, waiting for the world to stop spinning around me. My chest hurt. I wanted to cry, but I also didn’t want to stay in this awful place long enough to break down.

  A quick glance around found no barriers on the two outer sides of the platform; there were only two steep drops to the water below. To my right, that barrier was now closing off the stairs I’d already climbed. On the last remaining side, there was an arched doorway carved into the rock.

  And through it, there was another set of stairs.

  I fought my way to my feet, heart pounding. I listened over the sound of its frantic pumping, hoping against hope as I looked back, but there was no point in it; there were no other people left to hear. The sea had taken its dead, and it was now silent below me, save for the occasional drip drop and echo of water falling from the ceiling.

  I desperately didn’t want to be alone in here, but I was.

  And now there was nothing to do except keep climbing.

  These stairs were steeper. Narrower. I thought hands might be useful, as well as a bit of fire magic for light, so I decided to shift back to my human form. I was struck immediately by a heavy, wet chill that I hadn’t noticed when I was a wolf. I summoned enough fire to serve as a torch, and with it floating helpfully in front of me, I wrapped my arms tightly against the cold.

  And then I trudged upward.

  After about ten steps, the fire I controlled flickered.

  A strong, unnatural gust of wind arrived a second later to blow it out completely.

  My breath caught in my throat and I slowed for half a moment, but I refused to stop climbing. I summoned more fire. When my light danced over the walls again, this time it revealed faces. Gaunt, corpse-like faces that I was sure hadn’t been there before. And they were so close to me in this narrow passage that I couldn’t ignore them, even as I forced myself to look nowhere except straight ahead.

  Nowhere except straight ahead!

  Because I recognized those faces.

  Eli. Vanessa. Kael.

  All of them looked like ghosts. All of them were haunting my every step, and I knew they weren’t real, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except getting away from them—

  I forgot about my fire, closed my eyes, and sprinted blindly up the stairs.

  “You should watch where you’re going.” Carrick’s taunting voice echoed down through the passageway toward me.

  “I know where I’m going,” I shouted back, feeling my way even more quickly up those steps. “And none of your games are going to stop me from reaching you.”

  “Games?” His laughter whispered around me. “I wasn’t playing a game—I was trying to deliver a message, is all.”

  “A message?”

  “You see; you’ve been too slow. The curse has come and claimed them, and the dead faces you saw only reflect that truth that you tried to run away from.”

  “That truth…”

  “You couldn’t save them in the end.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Try calling to them, then. See if they answer your thoughtspeech.”

  My steps slowed without any conscious decision to. I didn’t want to do as he said. But how could I not?

  Kael and I had the strongest connection, so, though I was afraid, he was the one I tried first.

  He didn’t answer.

  Vanessa didn’t either.

  “They’re just too far away,” I said.

  “A mile at most,” he said, laughing again.

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m trying to help you, Alex. I’m trying to save you the trouble of fighting by informing you of how little you have to go back to—so you know there’s no point in suffering any longer. You should simply surrender.”

  “You really haven’t figured out how I operate yet, have you?” I said, blinking my eyes open again and breaking into a sprint. If I ran fast enough the faces all blurred together. And if I didn’t stop, then the fear of what they represented couldn’t catch me.

  Carrick fell silent. I ran even harder, leaping the steps in sets of twos and threes. Just when I was beginning to suspect that they might be some sort of illusion that went on forever, I climbed the last one and exploded into a large, circular room. It was well-lit— both by softly glowing jewels embedded along the tops of the walls, and by a hole in the very center of its floor. There was a white haze coming from that hole; it reminded me of the distant light of stars. I crept closer, heaving for breath, and I peered over the edge.

  And it was filled with tiny pinprick lights—lights like stars— while the space around each individual light was the deep blue-black of a night sky. It looked like a tiny universe was contained within the very floor of this cavern.

  Not exactly the obvious portal to hell I’d imagined.

  Still, staring at it filled me with a terror unlike anything I’d ever experienced; a cold dread that clawed for my lungs and snatched my breath away, and then dove into my heart and left an overwhelming despair in it. The kind of despair that made me want to throw myself into the vast, empty beauty of that sky-portal, just to attempt to leave all of this behind.

  I managed to talk myself out of it, though, and instead I yanked my gaze to somewhere else—anywhere else—besides that portal’s light.

  Carrick was there almost immediately, commanding my eyes as he stepped to the edge of the pit.

  He was a dog. No longer a wolf tricking me with his beauty, but a black beast of a hound with fire for eyes and a skeletal body covered in scars and strange, demonic-looking markings. Each of his steps caused the ground to fissure and hiss, like his body was toxic enough to poison the very stone he was moving across.

  But I knew it was him by the way his mouth curled in that twisted way of his, even in canine form.

  (You said you were going to drag me back to hell, didn’t you?)

  I glared at him with all the hatred I could manage.

  (Well. Let’s go then.)

  He cleared the pit in one leap.

  I veered aside, but claws still caught my shoulder, and suddenly my skin was hissing and trembling in the same way the stone floor had a moment ago. Only seconds passed before I felt the poison eating deeper and deeper into my arm, making it throb—and I could swear I felt it already swelling, too.

  How long until it spreads over my whole body?

  That panicked thought made me summon magic faster than I ever had before. I slung fire from my fingertips—not at him, but at that portal. It was the source of his power—of all their hellish power—and I had to destroy it. Everything I had left in me was bent on destroying it. I danced around Carrick’s attacks as best I could while staying close enough to keep launching fire at my target.

  But though the dark, starry surface of the portal buckled and wavered with every spell I sank into it, nothing I did seemed to be having a lasting effect.

  I tried barrier magic, too—tried to enclose it and then crush it out of existence.

  Nothing worked.

  And I was getting tired.

  So tired that fighting both Carrick and the portal quickly became impossible; as I watched that demon gateway absorb the last of my barrier spell, Carrick slammed into me and sent me flying across the room. I hadn’t been quick enough to even attempt to dodge him.

  His touch had left more poison behind. It ate its way through my clothes and skin, and the feel of my skin hissing a
nd simmering made it impossible to focus on anything else right away. Before I could try to get back to my feet, he was on top of me, his poison claws pushing into the center of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I was positive he was going to push a hole right through me.

  Then heat exploded from beneath his claws, and he drew back with a yelp.

  At first I thought it was just my fire magic unleashing itself in one last desperate attempt to save me. Then I realized: The Solas was shining from its safely-tucked place beneath the zipper of my jacket. And I should have been grateful that it had driven him back, I guess.

  But mostly I wanted to rip it off in frustration and throw it in that dark pit, to see if maybe it would prove truly useful in the end.

  Maybe that was what I was supposed to do all along?

  Before I could give in to that tempting thought, though, Carrick’s teeth clamped around my ankle. My pained scream echoed long after he’d lifted me by that biting grip and thrown me across the room.

  I landed dangerously close to the edge of the portal. My head slammed against the ground, and my ears were filled immediately with a strange ringing as that ground started to shake. It trembled and shook like a lid over a pot of boiling water; a cap just barely containing the pressure of the energy beneath. It felt dangerous. I wanted to move away from it, but I couldn’t seem to get any part of my body to listen to the commands my brain was giving it.

  Not even as Carrick stalked toward me, his head low and a confident, predatory gleam in his eye.

  (You’re all talk again, it seems,) he said. (All of those showy promises to drag me to hell…but it looks like I’m going to be the one taking you there instead.)

  I can’t fail.

  I can’t let him take me anywhere.

  I managed to claw my fingers toward the Solas. I clutched it, and I thought of all the people I had promised to find my way back to. I thought of what they had been through, what the feral had done to them. I thought of Kael, and of his mother and all the questions still surrounding her, the things we’d gone to search for at her house…