by Dana Davis
“You must leave.”
“I—I do not know how.”
The shadow man made an odd noise that sounded very much like annoyance. “Well, I have no time to show you the way. If you meddlers insist on venturing here then I will leave you to your fate. I warned the old one I would not help. Your type never listens.”
“The old one?” The shadow man groaned then turned and disappeared across the mucky river. Larisa started to panic. “Wait, please. Come back! I do not know the way!” Her cries went unanswered.
The river made her uneasy and she turned away from the faces in it, some wailing or moaning as they drifted by. They seemed to move toward something, as though the river had a plan. Death. Tortured spirits? Wandering souls? Could I be a lost spirit? No. The red-eyed, shadow man had told her to go home, that she did not belong among the dead. She had a body somewhere, alive and waiting for her return. This body, the one here, was her spirit.
This place would probably send her into madness if she stayed too long. The river flowed the opposite direction from what she was facing. Perhaps I need to go against the river. She bit back fear and started against the river current, staying well away from the muddy water.
She tried to ignore the crunching sounds beneath her boots, but her steps echoed, making the sound almost unbearable. She seemed to be in some sort of huge tunnel, dark and dank, yet with flickers of red and orange light bouncing off the walls. She saw no source for the odd lights but the river looked familiar, as though she had been here before. Her memories seemed to be jammed up in her mind, like the contents of a bottle with its cork stuck.
If only she could remember who she was and why she had come here. This was the Hollow of the Dead. Someone sent her here? No, I volunteered. All right, I am remembering more. Just not enough.
Her steps slowed as she approached what looked like another tunnel off to her left. Her fingers involuntarily clutched something that hung between her breasts, a talisman with a blue stone in the center. Pretty. And old. It has power. But what could it do? How could she use it if she could not even remember who she was or where she came from?
A woman’s voice called out above the rushing water and the moaning of spirits. “Larisa!” It was muffled, as though it came from behind a door.
My name. Larisa is my name. Yes. I remember that now. “I am here!” she cried, but no one responded
She turned toward the other tunnel. Perhaps that was the way out. She tried to cross to it but some invisible barrier kept her away, so she continued against the flow of the river, walking on and on, over bones, past wailing spirits, whose contorted faces peered out from the river as they passed then popped and disappeared like a child’s bubble game. At one point, Larisa covered her ears, but that did not shut out the horrible sounds.
Why am I here? Why did I come to the Hollow? She called out again but no one answered, so she continued along the bank, against the current of the wailing river, searching for a way out. Minutes, or maybe hours, passed, when she saw something in her path. A shadow crouched and hunched over something in the orange light of the Hollow. Perhaps the red-eyed creature had returned to help her.
Sucking noises stopped as she approached and the shadow raised its head to look at her. The creature, not a shadow as she had first suspected, had a dark, featureless face beneath a hooded cape. It had no mouth, yet it was feeding on something. Larisa took a step back. Another figure lay on the ground near the creature’s feet, and a swirling mist rose from the prone figure up toward the faceless being. Larisa was afraid to know just what a creature of the Hollow would feed upon, but it did not move toward her, did not seem to see her as a threat. Instead, it bent over its meal and continued sucking.
Desperate and eager to get out of this place, she gathered her courage and continued toward it until she stood not three feet away. “Please. I need help.”
The hooded creature did not look at her. “Go away. She is mine.” It sounded like it might have once been female.
But how can it speak without a mouth? Perhaps Larisa only heard it in her head. “I’m not going to hurt you. I am not here to take your meal. I just want to know the way out.” When the creature failed to respond, Larisa took another step closer. Something about the prone figure the creature fed on made her take notice this time. Long legs dressed in thick pants. Leather boots covered the feet. These looked familiar.
The hooded creature rose up and swiped out a dark hand that barely missed Larisa’s throat. “Go back!”
The prone woman’s face came into Larisa’s view as she stumbled out of the creature’s way, and her mind flooded with memories. “Kepriah!”
“Go back, you fool!” The creature lunged at her.
****
The falling sensation stopped, just like that, and Kepriah found herself in a great tunnel with orange tinged walls, a dark river running nearby. This place smelled musty, like an old attic that had been shut up during winter months. She saw faces in the river and heard cries of torment.
Where am I? She fought to remember what she had been doing only moments ago and how got here.
Taunting, churning, screaming, the river moved along its course like a lunatic crying out from his cell. The sounds sent a chill up Kepriah’s spine and she shivered. A man stepped from the darkness ahead. Or rather, the shadow of a man. He did not appear quite human.
“You!” she called in the most authoritative tone she could muster. “Where is this place?”
The man turned her direction and red eyes stared back. “Go home! Your kind is not welcome here. Go home!”
“What? Where am I?”
He continued across the river, mumbling to himself and gesturing none too gently, until he was lost from Kepriah’s sight. Something about the river disturbed her and she dared not cross it. Faces bubbled up from its muddy depths. Some wailed in silence then burst and fade back into the darkness. Human bones littered the area, like an untouched battlefield from a years-ago massacre, and the ground crackled and crunched beneath her feet as she walked.
Where the hell is my scepter? She had a scepter, somewhere. But why did she have a scepter? Her hands were empty and she studied them, trying to remember.
“Lose something, dearie?” a strangled voice called out from behind her. It sounded female. And old. Very old.
She whirled to see a hunched, robed figure coming closer. “Who are you? Where is this place?”
“Do you not know?”
“If I knew, old woman, I would not have bloody asked.”
“Temper, temper, young one. You would not want to end up like them, would you?” One arm made a sweeping motion toward the tormented faces in the river. “That is better. Come, dearie. I promise you will have all the answers soon.”
Kepriah stood her place. Something about this woman seemed familiar but she could not remember. She was certain this was a woman. Or at least it had been a woman in life. “Who are you?”
“You will find out soon enough. Now, come!”
With that command, Kepriah seemed to lose her will and she took a step toward the hooded figure. Then another, and another, until she stood close enough to touch the old woman. She tried to see the face but the hood hung too low. She fought panic when she realized she could not move her arms.
“That’s better, dearie. Give me your hand.”
Her arm began to move on its own, but Kepriah fought that order. Her muscles trembled with resistance as her arm lifted itself toward the strange woman, but she managed to pull it back to her side. What is going on here? Who is this woman and why does she have power over me?
“You resist me. Very good. You have grown stronger than I suspected. Stronger than I could have hoped in such a short time.” One shadowy hand made a gesture in the air. “But I have little time for games.” The hand gestured again and Kepriah felt her resistance leak out. “Come, dearie. Show me that defiant face of yours.”
Kepriah lifted her head, all the while trying to resist, until she broke
out in a cold sweat. She cringed when strong fingers pressed against her temples, but what she saw beneath that hood frightened her more. There was no face, only a layer of skin where features should be, smooth skin stretched taut like a drum. A sharp pain in her head caused her to cry out and all resistance left her. She no longer had any desire to pull away as memories of the past few days flooded her mind.
Donigere. Yes, that’s where I was. Or rather, where she was supposed to be. Larisa. Patrice. Where were her sisters? Where is Jakon? This could not be Donigere. She saw no dilapidated houses, broken trees, or muddy streets, only tunnel walls and a tormented river. They had destroyed the bodies so there should not be bones on the ground. What is this place?
You do not need to know that, dearie, the old woman’s voice said in her mind. Just relax. This will be difficult for both of us if you resist me.
Resistance. Yes, that is exactly what Kepriah needed to do. That thought fled as quickly as it had appeared as a song filled her mind, soothing, like a lullaby. She felt safe, protected, even with the pain at her temples, pain that became a distant ache as soon as she thought about it.
Better, dearie? the voice said.
Yes, thank you.
Now that is a polite girl. You are very welcome. Just relax. This will take only a little while. You will have to visit me several more times. We cannot do it all at once, you know.
Do what?
Never mind that, dearie. Just relax.
The song continued and Kepriah began to relax into the rhythm of the stanzas, the soft tones of the singer. She took comfort in the luxurious ground beneath her.
Yes. Soft and comfortable, Kepriah of Landerbury. Relax. Open your will to me. That’s a good girl.
Kepriah smiled as peace filled her. This type of safety and comfort she had not felt for a very long time, not since she was a small child. It called to her, beckoned her to rest. Her head felt light, as though something feathery supported it. A soft caress seemed to flow through her body and out the top of her head. An odd sensation, one she might have worried over…
No worries. Just relax. You are safe with me.
Kepriah relaxed as dreams of a wonderful childhood filled her mind.
****
“It’s been two days, Jakon,” Patrice uttered through exhaustion. “They won’t survive much longer.” She could no longer get an image of Kepriah through her ring and Larisa’s image was hazy, like gazing through fog. “What if that thing has killed Kepriah already?”
“She is not dead, Third. Be patient. You must have faith and continue to scry for them. I cannot believe the Moirai would choose you and your sisters and bring you here, only to let you fail so early in your assignments.”
“But how much longer, Jakon?” Failure. That word bounced around inside Patrice’s head like a pinball. She had failed her sisters. She had failed Selenea and Earth. The two worlds would be destroyed without the Trine to bring back magic. Magic that I didn’t even believe in until recently. Magic or not, the sisterly bond was strong and her heart broke at the thought of losing her sisters. Tears flowed down her hot cheeks and she began to sob.
“Noble, do not do this. You must not lose faith.”
Patrice’s tears quickened and her gut trembled. Suddenly, she felt herself fall. Her entire body became lost in some kind of darkness. For an instant, she saw orange tinted walls close about her.
Someone shook her from her misery and Jakon’s golden eyes came into view as he leaned over her, hands on her arms in a tight, painful grip. His mouth moved but she couldn’t make out the words as she drifted back toward the strange walls. Sharp pain caught her in the face and the world flooded back to her. Every smell, sound, and feeling rushed into her body. Her cheek stung and she put her fingers to it.
“Do not try that again, Noble. We cannot afford losing you in the Hollow, too.”
“What? You mean—”
“You almost left me. What were you thinking?”
Adrenaline pumped through her body and flooded her ears. At least she didn’t feel so tired now but the horror must have shown on her face. “But the ring can’t transport me to the Hollow.” Dark brows raised above those golden eyes as Jakon stared at her. “Can it?” She sat up and gazed down at her ring. It looked the same as always, antique silver encasing a round blue jewel. “I went to the Hollow?”
“You tried. Your pulse began to fade just like First and Second’s did. I am sorry if I hurt you.”
“No. It’s okay, Jakon.” Her eyes met his again. “Feel free to haul off and slap me if I try that again, will you?” She forced a smile to hide the incredible terror she felt about the Hollow. She would take several slaps if it kept her from that place, and she fought a shudder.
Jakon’s sharp teeth stood out through his weary grin and he bowed his head. “As you wish, Noble.” He checked Kepriah and Larisa over.
“Any change?”
“I am afraid not.”
Patrice took in a long breath and concentrated on her ring and the fuzzy image of Larisa. Something was wrong. That creature she saw with Kepriah was still there, only now it had Larisa in its grasp. “No! Keep away from it! Larisa!”
****
“Go back!” an old woman’s voice cried out. Kepriah’s peaceful memories faded and she tried to move. Stay calm, dearie. This does not concern you.
“Kepriah!”
Someone is calling me.
Relax. Listen only to me, the gentle voice said in her mind. Respond only to me.
“Kepriah!”
Larisa? Larisa! Suddenly the soft ground beneath Kepriah became hard and lumpy. She felt bruises all over her body. Musty smells filled the air and moans from somewhere nearby crammed her ears. Her head ached.
No! Listen to me. Not to her. “Go back, you fool!”
But Kepriah gathered her wits and fought to break free from whatever spell held her. She could hear her sister calling her name as she fought through the darkness of the spell, like swimming upstream through muddy water. But she tired and found herself sinking back toward the happy place, the childhood that did not exist.
That’s it, dearie. Relax. You just stay peaceful while I deal with this.
Yes. Happy. A loved child with a mother and father who never left her side. But that’s not how she remembered her childhood.
Remember it that way. Wonderful, peaceful. You as a small child, running through the flower fields, catching butterflies by day and fireflies by night.
Yes. Oh, yes! So wonderful. Another voice caught Kepriah’s ears. This one distant. It did not call to her. Instead, this voice called out to Larisa. Patrice? I have to get up.
Do not listen to them, dearie. You remember the wonderful childhood. The happy place. Just stay there.
Yes. No! It did not happen that way. This is a lie. Kepriah again swam against the muddy current until her body ached and her lungs burned. She heard Larisa call her name repeatedly. Then the cries grew strangled. Larisa’s in trouble. I must help her.
The faceless voice grew silent and the current less powerful. Up and up toward Larisa’s voice she swam until she felt her sister’s embrace. “Wha—” Her body went frigid, as though encased in ice. She shivered and her teeth chattered so hard she thought they might break.
“Kepriah?”
“Lar—” So cold. She tried to sit but her muscles were stiff, frozen. Am I dead? Am I still in the Hollow? Is Larisa dead too?
****
Patrice’s cries had brought Larisa from her stupor, but the hand around her throat tightened and she could not break free. Instead, Larisa took the talisman in her fingers and aimed the blue stone at the creature, sending a flame to it. The creature let out a piteous cry and disappeared, leaving her alone with Kepriah. A muddy river flowed nearby. Human bones littered the ground. The Hollow.
“Kepriah,” she uttered through a tight throat. “Kepriah, wake up. Can you hear me?” She shook her pale sister and rubbed knuckles against the lifeless chest until she got a re
sponse.
“Wha—”
“Kepriah?”
“Lar—”
Larisa sat and cradled her oldest sister against her. She is so cold. We need to get back to our bodies. How long have I been gone? Patrice and Jakon must be worried. Kepriah’s scepter suddenly appeared and Larisa fought the urge to weep when her sister’s rigid fingers closed on it. Kepriah tried to sit but Larisa held her in place. “Slowly.”
“I’m c-cold.”
“Yes, I know.” She gathered her prone sister in her arms and rubbed her limbs in an attempt to warm her. After a moment, she checked Kepriah’s eyes. Dark smudges had formed beneath them but the pupils looked good, responsive. Her sister’s skin began to warm slightly. “We must get back.”
“We are dea—”
“Do not say that, Kepriah of Landerbury. We are very much alive. We are just away from our bodies at the moment.”
“Jabber shit!”
Larisa took the cursing as a healthy sign and helped her sister to her feet, stumbling herself.
“This place is miserable.” Kepriah made a couple of unsteady steps. “How the hell do we get out?”
“I haven’t exactly figured that part out yet.”
“What?” Kepriah pulled away and stood on her own with the help of the scepter. “You mean you came here without knowing how to get back? Are you a lunatic?”
Despite everything that had just happened, Larisa smiled. “You are welcome. Do you remember how you got here?”
“Someone, or something, pulled me in. It sounded like an old woman. I held her off until she put me in some sort of stupor. A spell, I think. I did not remember who I was at first, until I heard someone call out my name. Then I braced my will against the spell. The old woman wanted something from me.”
“I could not remember much at first, either. Patrice is watching over us. She’s the one who called out to me. I was walking against the current, hoping it would lead me home, when I found you.”