I struggle against her till I lose control over my body. Everything feels numb, and I can't move. I see her, but she fades in and out of my vision while she swims with me.
I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to drown over and over again.
She looks at me, and she presses her hand to my face.
Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
fade into light
Voices fill my head. Voices of my parents, my brother. Of Amelia and David. Jace and Rhiannon. They’re all talking, to me… I think. Though I can’t make out what any of them are trying to say. They fade in and out, till only one grows stronger. Till only one becomes apparent and clear.
The voice of my brother.
I see him now, standing over me. He doesn’t say anything. He crouches down and examines me. I can’t move. I can’t sit up, I’ve lost all control over my body. I can’t speak. He looks curious at first, tilting his head, but then a smirk spreads across his face as he begins to pour water into my mouth. I can’t close my mouth. I can’t stop him.
He blurs, like I’m looking at him through water.
I blink my eyes and I can’t breathe. My eyes burn from the ocean. My throat burns. I try to inhale, but there’s nothing but water. It’s dark, down in the Pitch, in the depths of the sea. I feel the restraints on my ankles, chained to the ocean floor.
I look to the side, I’m not alone. We’re in rows, us all in a line. I’m chained beside Nova, and I can’t see past him. He keeps setting himself on fire, his skin turns into lava rock while I can see the fire burning through the cracks, but it goes out when the water hits. Simmering around him. When he passes out, I see Jace and Rhiannon beside him.
There are rows of us, hundreds. Maybe thousands. All trapped.
We don’t belong here.
We are chained among some of the worst killers. The worst murderers who had supported Drarkodon during his reign, who would drown, over and over again, until their time ran out. There was zero tolerance during the Grim War, but Mother Nature was above killing them. I wonder if my dad was too.
Beinyth, however, seemed to have no problem keeping them locked up here. He seemed to have no problem locking us up too.
Every time I die, from water filling my lungs, over and over again, struggling to breathe, the same thing happens. I hear the voices, but Apollo changes.
This time he’s disappointed.
“Why?” he asks me. He’s eleven again. “Why did you let them take me, Artemis? Why did you lead us there? This is your fault. This is all your fault.”
It’s nice to finally hear someone else blame me for a change. For someone to just come out and accuse me for what I’ve done. I’m sick of everyone trying to make me feel better. Let me torment myself. No one else was there. No one else knows. But I know.
I know more than people think. I know more than they’re comfortable with.
My mind drifts.
A voice enters that I don’t recognize. It’s loud and deep, much like my father’s, but more intense than his. Stronger, in a way, yet also shaky.
“Artemis,” he says, it’s simple, though very clear. Visions fade in and out, and he says my name again. But still, I don’t know who he is.
The darkness fades into light, and I see a man sitting near a bed. He’s leaning over it, sobbing into his hand while babies cry. I look on the bed, and a woman lays there. Deceased. There’s no fluid in her body, drained dry from the inside. Her skin is taut around her skeleton, and her bones protrude. The sheets are soaked in blood. I recognize the house, and then I see the study. I’m in Edgewick.
“Sir, your sons, they need you.” A woman with red feathers on her head, sticking through the strands of her hair of similar color, steps into the room. Nova?
“I can’t,” the man sobs, he’s clutching the sheets as he cries. “He killed her. My son, he killed her.” He shakes his head. “He’s not my son.”
“Sir, you have to. They’re all you have.”
“I don’t want them,” he says, staring at his wife. He touches the side of her face gently with the back of his fingers. “He took her from me — and I couldn’t stop him.”
“There’s nothing you could have done, Atarer. You haven’t been a chronomancer in a thousand years,” Nova argues. She’s trying to justify it. “You’ve been asleep. How were you supposed to know this would have happened?”
“Chronomancy! I should have foreseen it. What kind of chronomancer was I if I couldn’t save her? If I couldn't have prevented this? If I knew this would've happened, I never would've left Glasskeep for her. She’d still be alive.”
I take a step back. I have more in common with my grandfather than I want to admit.
The floor beneath my feet begins to shake, and it drops into a dark abyss.
I land in a creepy old town; it’s Thealey. Brighter though, the sun shines stronger than I’ve ever seen in my whole life, but I remind myself the Pryley hadn’t erupted yet. Vampires didn’t exist yet. I see my grandfather carrying two bundles in his arms as he looks around suspiciously before entering an old, rundown shop. I don’t think I remember seeing it — I don’t think it still existed when we went there. I think that’s where the Laughing Toad now stands. Inhaling deeply, I force myself to follow him.
I reach for the door, and my hand goes right through it. I’m not really there. I walk in, inviting myself. Voices streaming from the back, disembodied, I hear my grandfather’s and someone else’s.
“You can take it away? Their powers? All of it?”
“It won’t be cheap,” the man says. “Though I’m sure you can afford it. You were the prince of Glasskeep, after all.”
“I’ll pay any sum,” my grandfather says.
“Actually, I see you’ve suffered a great pain,” the other man says. “I’ll do it at no cost.”
“No cost? Are you sure?”
“Consider it a gift,” he says.
“Thank you, Spellbinder, thank you.”
“Come back in two hours, the binding will be complete.”
Atarer leaves in a hurry, and I walk toward the hallway, leading to the lit room in the back. I’m not sure I want to look inside, but perhaps I have no choice. Maybe this is all things I need to see. Chronomancy.
I inhale deeply as I try to prepare myself.
The Spellbinder is an old, fragile looking man. He has a glass eye that moves rapidly as he flips through one of his many, old dusty books. He moves around the room, grabbing vials, and jars from shelves and putting them all together while my father and my uncle cry in a cage near his desk. He cuts Alekoth’s cheek and then Drarkodon’s, putting their blood both into a cauldron that smokes as soon as the blood drips.
“I hoped this moment would come,” he says, while he dumps bat wings into the pot. He stirs it and puts out the flame beneath it before reaching his hand into the simmering liquid. He touches Drarkodon’s face first, painting an ouroboros symbol around his face. “The tale of two, cursed for destruction. One with the strength to kill,” he says, and moves to Alekoth, where he begins painting a triskelion. “The other, the courage to resist.”
He wipes his bloody finger against my father’s clothes and looks down at Drarkodon. “Don’t worry, child,” he says, “your dark days will come, and everyone will feel the wrath of Norhurst.” He pulls out a pendant he kept tucked hidden in his robes. It’s the ouroboros symbol.
He’s a necromancer.
I’m gasping again when I’m brought back to the Pitch.
My head is pounding, it feels like it’s going to explode. I try to breathe, but water fills my mouth and lungs. I cough, but that only makes it worse.
Everything fades to black again.
I’m not sure where I am now. There are remains of what looked like a black castle, reduced to rubble. There’s lanky man sitting in the center of the ruin, a mop of floppy bla
ck hair on his head, ruffling in the wind. His hands are pressing against the ground, and I take a step back when I spot the skull in front of him. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand him.
Black smoke rises from the ground, coveting the skull and the bag of bones sitting in front of him. I back up, forgetting that I’m not actually there.
He looks up, and his eyes are black. This must be Drarkodon.
“Mother, what do I do?” he asks, as the smoke swirls into the figure of a woman. She’s standing before him.
“What have you done?” she asks him, her voice echoes. It’s otherworldly. “What have you done?” she asks again, this time her tone is louder, sterner. It erupts throughout the remains of the castle walls.
“I’m trying to bring you back,” he says, his legs shake as he forces himself to stand. “I need you, Mom. Dad doesn’t understand. He won’t give me a chance. I need you. I made a terrible mistake and I just want to take it all back.”
“Release me,” she demands. “This is not what we do. Release me, Drarkodon!”
He presses his lips together and just shakes his head. He stops crying and doesn’t bother to wipe the tears from his cheeks. It’s like he flipped some kind of switch with his emotions. He shut down.
“If you won’t help me,” he says, “I’ll make you.” He outstretches his arm, his hand cups the air like he’s grabbing her neck. She begins to gasp. She can’t breathe. “I’ll make you,” he repeats himself. He says it without emotion, not on his face, not in his tone. “There will be bloodshed, and I will reap. I’ll make you proud, Mother.”
“You’re — you’re not — not — my — my son.” She struggles beneath his grip. “What — what happened to you?”
“Life,” he says. “I watched as Alekoth got everything while I got nothing. No love from Dad, and apparently none from you either. My first kill, not even a day old.”
“That wasn’t — your fault,” she whispers.
“Tell that to Atarer. He spent my whole life blaming me!” He moves closer to his mom as he lowers his hand. She doesn’t move from where she is. There’s a faint, green glow emitting from her body, like nature knows she’s not supposed to be there. “He wouldn’t even look at me, Domne. Then Alekoth took the only thing I cared about. The only person in this whole world that I loved —” he smiles, and shakes his head. “So I killed her.” He paces around her. “I felt guilty at first, you know. I left Edgewick out of fear, I would be cast out anyway, so I left first. I needed a sense of belonging. I needed someone to tell me that I was enough. That my efforts were enough. I wanted that from you.”
“They’re not,” she says, struggling to take a heavy breath. “You’re not. Not anymore.”
“I’ll show you,” he tells her. “I’ll show you all. The Grim Reaper will rise to power, and no one can stop him.”
“Your brother will,” she says, and Drarkodon shakes his head. He laughs.
“My brother. My pitiful brother. He doesn’t even know what he is — he doesn’t know what I am. What I’m capable of.”
“Do you?”
“I can’t wait to find out.”
I gasp again for air, and my lungs finally fill with it, in the absence of water. I’m no longer chained to the ocean floor with other prisoners. Why did I see all of that?
I sit up from where I lay, water rushes around me like I'm trapped in some kind of air bubble.
“A chronomancer — in my domain,” a loud voice roars. “You’ve a very interesting group of friends. What are you doing here?”
I look up and see a man seated before me, he’s the most human looking merperson I have ever seen. His skin is the same color as my mother’s, though his hair is red. He looks like a lion, his beard merges right into the long, unruly hair on his head. There’s a giant sea snail sitting on his shoulder, and he holds a trident in his hand. Beinyth.
“I asked you a question, Artemis. Quite frankly, I don’t care who you are. I will throw you back into the Pitch if I see fit.”
“I want to get onto the Midnight Strider.”
He arches a brow and sits forward in his throne.
“What for?”
“I’m sure you know,” I say. There really is only one reason I’d dare go to the Underworld while still alive.
“Why did you come here? I’ve protected you twice, it’s not my job —”
“You?” I ask. “When?”
“In Edgewick, I healed you, and I did what I could with the time I had, for your friend. But werewolves are different. I kept you safe from those Skinharvesters in Mithlonde. Don’t interrupt me again.”
“Your waters link the realms,” I say. “Just help me get onto the ship.”
“No. I don’t just release my prisoners,” he says, waving his hand to someone, motioning for them to come forth. His guards bring in Benny, Nova, Kina, Jace and Rhiannon. One guard shoves Benny right beside me, and he slides across the reef. “I caught this one trying to help you all escape. Clever, ghosts. But not clever enough.”
Rhiannon is still unconscious, and I notice her side has been bandaged, so has her arm. Did the merpeople do that? Bandage her wounds?
“For a chronomancer,” he continues, “you sure keep a lot of undead company around you.”
“I’m both now,” I say. He laughs. “I am.”
I try to focus, I do my best to think about my eyes turning black. Focus, Artemis. Concentrate.
For a second, I’m blinded. I blink rapidly, and my vision comes back. Beinyth is sitting back against his throne now.
“So perhaps you are…”
“I have to save my brother,” I say. “Please help us. If I don’t, Drarkodon will make Apollo release him. He’s gonna come back. How many of your kind have died because of him? How many have you lost, Beinyth?”
He slams the bottom of his trident so hard against the reef that it cracks beneath it. He gets up from his seat and points the trident at me. “How dare you talk to me like that. Show some respect. I’m an Immortal.”
“Do you think I don’t know who you are?” I ask. “You’re the Earth Shaker. Without you, my parents wouldn’t have been able to erupt Pryley.”
“Your parents — you know who your mother is?” He sounds surprised. I nod. “Why haven’t you accessed any of the abilities she’s left you?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head. “So focused on your father’s side, you’re blind to what’s right in front of you,” he tells me. “The elements can work in your favor if you know how to utilize it. Of course, my domain is always a little trickier.” He looks back at me, and narrows his eyes. “What makes you say Drarkodon will come back? How do you know anything about it?”
“I saw it,” I say. “He’s going to torture my brother until Apollo agrees to set him free. I can’t just sit around knowing what’s happening to him.”
“So you became both. Why?”
“I wanted to try to trick his creatures — into thinking —”
“You were Apollo.” I nod, and avert my eyes at his words. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t really have much to say. “You’re very weak. There’s too much power in you, and it’s going to want to come out one way or another.”
“I stopped,” I say.
“Do you think it matters? It’ll grow like an infection. You’ve infected yourself, boy. Just remember that — you did this to yourself. You’ve signed your own life away.”
“Please let us go. I promise we won’t enter your —”
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t trust your family. You’re all being taken back to the Pitch. Immediately.”
Something pinches my arm and everything goes dark.
I wake up drowning in the water again. I can feel the water filling my lungs, my throat burns from the salt
y, bitter taste of the sea. My stomach turns, I want to throw up but I can’t. I can only gag on the water that surrounds me. I can feel myself fading from consciousness again, while my eyes feel like they’re going to explode.
The flashbacks of Drarkodon’s life are gone. I don’t have another, I just drift in the darkness. Encased and surrounded. It’s quiet, and sullen. The silence is deafening. I’d much rather tap into my abilities, but I don’t know how to control it. I don’t know how to go back. Focusing, my eyes turn black, but I can’t keep it together long enough to really try. Not with the constant choking on the water. I can’t breathe. I can’t focus, not here. Not in the Pitch.
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
everything dies
I cough, water spills out of my mouth and I wipe the side of my face. I try to sit up, but my body hurts. It aches in every spot imaginable. I move only a little and my muscles tense. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t know if it’s a dream, or if my mind is just playing stupid tricks on me. I’m probably still in the Pitch, chronomancy transporting me to places to sooth me.
It’s not helping.
“Don’t move too much,” someone says from a distance. “Your body needs to readjust to being a land dweller.”
I open one eye. A what?
Moving my hand along the ground, sand runs between my fingers. I turn my head and my friends are all lying around me, with a mermaid sitting over Benny. Barnacles, anemone and all.
We’re out. We’re out of the Pitch.
“That was some crazy stunt you pulled,” she tells me. “My father had no choice but to let you go. He couldn’t hold you, but don’t think he won’t try again if he has the chance.”
“Your father?” I ask, coughing more. I wipe the side of my mouth as water spills down my chin. I force myself to sit up and shake my head, removing the excess water. “What did I do?” I ask.
“You were drowning all of the mermaids.”
Oh. I wipe my hand against my wet clothes, trying to get the sand off of it but that does almost nothing.
The Midnight Strider (The Chronomancer Chronicles Book 2) Page 24