by Jade Mere
So Tahki reached up, his back still firm against the ground, and locked his arms over Rye’s neck. He drew Rye down to him, curling his fingers in his hair, and brought their lips together. The kiss felt soft and cool, and both their bodies relaxed against each other.
But the trauma of the river had been too much. Tahki’s arms fell to the dirt, and his mind slipped away into darkness.
HE WASN’T asleep, but he couldn’t open his eyes. His limbs refused to move just yet. It still felt like his body was caught in the tow of the river. He could almost feel the current moving over him, the water so cold it burned, and he wondered if his mother had felt the same way when the flames devoured her.
She had been brilliant, loved, respected. She would have become famous had she saved herself instead of Tahki that night. All he’d wanted to do since the day she’d died was make it up to her, follow the path she would have taken. If he became a famous architect, his success would be hers. His father had never understood his obsession with fame, that if the world saw what Tahki could do, they would get a glimpse of what his mother might have achieved. This castle had been his chance to prove to her that he had been worth saving, but someone or something clearly didn’t want him to succeed.
The numbness faded, and he rubbed his eyelids gently until they unstuck. He opened his eyes to Rye’s muddy face. His hair looked clumped and damp, his lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed.
Tahki’s stomach twisted at the thought of the kiss. He’d wanted to kiss Rye for a long time now, but not like this. The kiss hadn’t even been consensual. Rye would be furious with him, maybe even refuse to talk to him. Although the people of Vatolokít might view a stolen kiss as romantic and whimsical, Tahki had been raised to understand that kissing someone without their permission was wrong.
He took a deep breath. This place looked dark and smelled heavily of dirt and minerals. Moisture clung to the rock walls around him. Only a faint glow bloomed from beneath a slate wall where the river flowed in.
He rubbed the bumps along his skin. His wet clothing felt slimy and heavy against his body. He wanted to take it off and curl up next to Rye and feel warm again, but the thought made him flush. Instead, he tried to look around for an exit.
Rye stirred, and his eyes blinked open.
Tahki swallowed. He wondered if Rye would even remember the kiss. Maybe saving Tahki from the river had left his mind raw and fuzzy.
“You should have woken me,” Rye said. His voice sounded groggy and harsh, like he’d swallowed a handful of gravel.
“I just woke up,” Tahki said.
Rye rubbed his head. “We’re under the castle.”
“I noticed, but where?”
“The river carried us to an underground cave.” Rye rose, stumbled, and steadied himself. Tahki had never seen him look so unstable. “Dyraien said there were natural tunnels below the castle, but I was too focused on breaking free of the river to notice our location.”
Tahki hugged himself. “Rye?”
“What?” Rye stretched his muscles and cringed.
“Thank you.”
Rye didn’t look at him. Maybe he’d call Tahki a moron again. Maybe he’d yell at him for delaying work on the castle. Maybe he’d tell Tahki to stay away from him.
“You shouldn’t thank me,” Rye said. He still wouldn’t look at him. “Those things I said to you, that night Hona told you about my past… I didn’t mean them.”
Tahki swallowed. “I was out of line.”
“No, it wasn’t your fault. I overreacted. I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things.” Rye looked at him now. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know about me. I just wanted to tell you myself, but I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Rye didn’t strike him as the kind of person who feared anything.
“I was afraid you’d treat me different, either pity me or think I wasn’t a worthy friend, that I wasn’t good enough because my family was a disgrace.” Rye sighed. “I should have apologized sooner, but I was ashamed by my behavior and didn’t know how to approach you.”
Tahki thought a moment. For the last few weeks, he had been the one fighting to prove himself. He never considered Rye might be trying to do the same. “I would never pity you or think you unworthy. You’re amazing, Rye. You’ve overcome so much, and you never complain about anything. Besides, wasn’t it you who told me not to try so hard to impress people?”
Rye smiled. “I guess I did.” Then he said in a slightly timid voice, “When we get out, maybe we can talk more. I’d like to hear what you wanted to tell me that night.”
Tahki thought of the kiss again. He wanted to bring it up, but that might ruin the moment. Instead, he nodded and said, “Is there a way out?”
“The room is sealed,” Rye said. “I walked around last night but couldn’t find any exit. We’re surrounded by dirt walls on every side, too thick to dig through by hand. I’ll have to dive under the wall, swim to the other side.” Tahki felt sick. Rye must have sensed this, because he said, “You stay here. I’ll get Dyraien and some supplies, and we’ll knock out the wall.”
“All right,” Tahki said. It would be easier if he just swam with Rye, but he couldn’t swim, and going against the current would be too difficult for Rye to manage with him hanging on.
Without another word, Rye stripped off his shirt and boots. Tahki forced himself to watch, a wave of dizziness overtaking him as Rye took a deep breath and dove in. Tahki shivered as the icy water splashed onto the dirt by his feet. He picked up Rye’s damp shirt and boots and sat in the dirt. Tahki hugged the clothing for comfort, brought his knees to his chest, shut his eyes, and chanted a silent mantra to the gods.
Something splashed in the water, and his eyes flew open. He expected to see Rye, but no one was there.
“Hello?” Tahki called. Maybe Dyraien had seen them struggling in the river and come to rescue them.
As he peered into the dim light, a low growl rumbled through the cave. Tahki stood slowly and turned his body toward the sound. He knew what he would find before his eyes rested on the dark mass crouching beside the river. The black cat hunched an arm’s length away. There was no place to run, so he faced the animal, his back pressed tight against the rock wall. But the cat didn’t attack him. She moved away from the water, toward a tunnel that hadn’t been there before. He squinted. Maybe the tunnel was another trick.
The cat trotted a few paces and then looked back at him. Another throaty growl escaped her. He could hear Sornjia’s voice telling him to follow her, but he didn’t move. The cat was a monster who’d tried to kill him just hours ago. He searched for anything he might use as a weapon, but the only thing he had on him was his mother’s pencil. It hadn’t fallen out in the river, but a small pencil wouldn’t do much good. He’d lodged a hunting knife in the cat’s side before and it hardly made a scratch.
The cat swished her tail and growled again, this time loud enough to shake his bones. Tahki couldn’t retreat, and there was nowhere to hide and wait for Rye. His only option was to go forward, so he took one hesitant step. The cat moved on, but when he didn’t follow, she stopped. He gripped Rye’s clothing and took another step. The cat also stepped forward. They moved like this down the tunnel, one choppy step at a time, the cat always a few paces in front of him. She padded through the dirt, leaving behind paw prints larger than both of his feet put together. Her shoulders bobbed up and down in a hypnotic rhythm, and all he could think about was how her jaws could crush him in one bite.
The light faded, and for a time he could hardly make out her shape. With every step, he grew a little bolder. He could actually study the cat now without anxiety overpowering all his sense.
“Where are you leading me?” He felt ridiculous talking to a cat and even more so when she didn’t reply.
The pathway finally opened up, and Tahki found himself in a room where natural lightning roots glowed in the dirt walls. Something glinted in the light. He saw a handle, dark wood, and iron bolts.
A door.
He rushed to it and tugged, but it didn’t budge. With a sigh, he backed away. The door looked massive, the rings the size of his chest. Tahki swallowed. He didn’t recognize the room. A stone pool with black water sat in the middle of a wide, circular floor. The ceiling looked twenty feet tall.
He was standing inside the black gates.
A low moan escaped the cat, and Tahki turned just in time to see her body collapse onto the ground. Light faded from her eyes, and she went still. Tahki watched her a moment, and when she didn’t revive, he turned to the black gates and tried tugging again, frantic to escape before she woke. He pulled and twisted and pounded on the wood with his fist.
“Rye? Dyraien? Anyone? Let me out! I’m down here!”
A low groan came from behind, and he turned toward the black pool. The water inside boiled, and he watched in horror as eels twisted their bodies into an oily knot. A shiny black hand emerged from the bubbling heap, then a head, then a body, and legs.
Tahki dropped Rye’s boots and shirt and slid his back against the gate, caught between fear and fascination. He wanted to run down the tunnel, but he couldn’t move. The figure twisted, its body convulsing as it emerged. Its arms extended, stretched upward, and then it became deathly still.
“You…,” a soft, breathless voice called. “You are….”
Tahki swallowed. His entire body trembled. A scream inched its way up his throat, but he couldn’t get it out.
The figure bent forward. “You are… a moron!”
Tahki stared, not sure he heard right.
The black water drained away to reveal a young woman no older than him. Her skin was bronze, almost golden, her hair white as cloud marble. Her naked body radiated beauty. It took his brain a moment to realize she had spoken Dhaulenian.
“Well?” the woman said. “Are you just going to sit there all day shivering like a naked dog-rat?”
Tahki didn’t move.
The woman rolled her eyes. “I thought Nhymiicha would have raised you better.”
Hearing his mother’s name broke his fixation. He slid his back up the gate but didn’t step forward. “Who…. What are you?”
The woman made a sour face. “Your brother wouldn’t waste time with stupid questions. He’d ask something smart, like, how did you possess that cat’s body? Why are you stuck in that filthy black water? How do you keep your hair so nice and shiny when you’re dead?”
Tahki stared. “Dead?” His religion taught him spirits were real, but he’d never believed it. He’d never really believed in the gods, either, yet just moments ago he’d prayed to them. “You’ve been the one haunting me? Attacking me?”
The woman pursed her lips and blew air at him. “Piscgiia!” She used the word to describe a small, hairless rodent that infested the slums of Dhaulen’aii, an insult commonly shouted at disrespectful children. “You were the one who attacked me.”
Tahki’s hand moved to his chest where the cat marks throbbed lightly.
“Oh please,” the woman said. She spoke with large sweeping motions of her hands. “You always have to make it about yourself, don’t you? Here I am, a dead woman, kidnapped from her home, tortured and sacrificed, and you still make it about you.”
Tahki’s back stiffened. He had no idea if he should feel afraid or insulted or tricked. “How do you know my mother’s name?”
The woman put her hands on her hips. The eels in the water thrashed around her legs. “Tahki.” She said his name the way an upset parent might. “I am your great-grandmother.”
Her words didn’t shock him. His brain had already been shocked enough, like when you keep hitting the same tender spot on your elbow and it eventually goes numb. But he averted his eyes, because if she really was his great-grandmother, he didn’t want to see her naked.
“Piscgiia, you’re such a prude. That’s your father’s side of the family,” she said. “Your mother’s side always welcomed free skin.”
“Stop calling me piscgiia,” Tahki said. He glanced back at her. “What do you want from me?”
Her face softened a little. “I want you to listen to me. I need your help, Tahki.” Her desperate tone made her less frightening.
He remembered his mother painting their family tree on a giant wooden canvas. The finished product had been hung in his parents’ bedroom. Tahki used to lie on their bed and study the names. He pictured the tree now and mentally followed the black branches on his mother’s side: His mother, grandmother, great-grandmother. He saw her name in his mind.
Niivrena. Her name was Niivrena. He remembered his mother calling her Nii, but all she’d ever told him about her was that she’d vanished without a word when she was young. His father told him Nhymiicha’s family had always been flighty and unpredictable. They were people who spoke to the sands and listened to the wind, rarely settling down for long.
“All right,” Tahki said. “I’ll listen.” He took a cautious step forward but gave the lifeless black cat a wide berth.
“I’m sorry about your chest,” Nii said. “Possession isn’t an exact art. You never have total control over the creature you take the body of, even if they’re dead. But I didn’t have a choice. You ignored all my illusions. I had to take corporeal form, which is very dangerous for a spirit.”
Tahki frowned. “Illusions? You mean the thing in my room and the water?”
Nii nodded. “I tried to bring you here. I can only appear in this body and talk to you when I’m in this pool.”
“Why?”
“Because this is the place I was murdered.” The eels in the water flared up, nipping at her knees. Tahki wasn’t sure where Nii ended and where the eels started, if they were a part of her or keeping her captive. She seemed to ignore them.
Tahki rubbed his wrist and asked, “Who killed you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “A woman named Thronis. Dyraien’s great-grandmother.”
“Why did she kill you?”
“Tahki,” Nii said. “I’ve been watching you. I know what I’m about to say is going to be hard to accept, not because you’re a logical person, but because you like Dyraien. You like this castle. You’re going to want to resist my words.”
She was right. He’d already started reasoning against what little information he had.
Nii bent down and drew a circle in the black water to calm the eels. “Do you know the history of the river you fell in?”
Tahki watched the black water twirl. “You mean the Misty River, the river you tried to drown me in?”
Nii looked him up and down. “You seem fine to me.”
“Thanks to Rye.”
Nii pursed her lips. “I had a hunch he would save you.”
“A hunch? What if you’d been wrong?”
“Then there is always your twin.” She gave him a smile. “Now, unless you want to stay here for an eternity arguing with me, tell me what you know of the river.”
Tahki rubbed his eyes. If he was going to learn anything, he needed to comply. “I know the river runs from the Calaridian Sea through Vatolokít all the way across Dhaulen’aii. It connects the two oceans.”
“But do you know the spiritual history of it?”
Tahki nodded. The Misty River, what in Dhaulen’aii was called Wairupok’ae—the river of souls—was sacred to his people. It was said the river spirited souls from the world of the living to the Dim, the world of the gods.
“This spot here,” Nii explained. She wiggled her arms and fingers in a showy manner, like a magician putting on a show for children. “This spot, where the water falls into the white sands, is an entryway, a sacred area where mystical energy gathers. Our ancestors would travel for miles to pray here. It is where the first mystic was born.”
Tahki started to ask what a mystic was, but Nii shushed him.
“I know,” she said. “So many questions. Give me time to explain, Piscgiia. Mystics are Dhaulenians born with a special connection to the Dim. They are conduits for the gods. The word o
f the gods travels through them. Because of this connection, it is said the soul of a mystic is so powerful it can open a pathway between worlds. Are you listening to my words, Tahki?”
Tahki nodded.
“But you don’t believe them, even after all of this?” Nii kicked her feet and the eels slithered around her legs.
Tahki swallowed. “I don’t know what I believe.”
Nii rolled her eyes. He’d never actually seen anyone roll her eyes as much as she did. She seemed a little dramatic.
“Listen,” Nii said. “Dyraien Királye is not what he claims to be. The Királyes have lied for generations. They have a conquest sickness in them.”
Tahki almost jumped to Dyraien’s defense, but Nii gave him a hard look and he kept quiet.
“Ambrusthin Királye is Dyraien’s great-great-grandmother. She grew up in a temple not far from here, raised by Dhaulenian monks after her father abandoned her. The monks taught her our religion, our ways. One day, a mystic showed up at the temple, a young girl come to learn from the abbot. Ambrusthin befriended the girl, and together they set out on a quest to open the Dim. Ambrusthin was obsessed with the idea of gods and the world of the immortals. The monks did nothing to stop them, as it seemed like harmless child’s play. I assume you know what happened next.”
Tahki didn’t.
Nii looked irritated. “They opened it.”
“Opened what?”
“How is it you inherited your mother’s talent but not her wit? They opened the Dim, Tahki. Ambrusthin found a way to do it by using the young mystic girl. They saw the Dim with their own eyes. But the pathway did not stay open. It closed as they entered, and both of their bodies were thrust unnaturally back to our world. The mystic girl was killed instantly. Her soul had been the payment for opening it. As for Ambrusthin, her sanity was taken. But not immediately. She grew older, married a prince, killed him when he became king, and took over the country. She had children and told her child what she knew of the Dim before she completely lost her mind. Since then, every generation of Királye has tried to open it and keep it open so they may enter. None have succeeded.”