The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1)

by Kristy Nicolle

  “Seriously. You might be a pain in the ass, but I don’t want you dead,” he reminds me, and I sigh.

  “Well, in that case, I better let you take me to this courts place then… if it does in fact exist,” I add, not ready to be fully compliant just yet.

  “Well then, come with me. We have a long journey ahead of us. Char is waiting on the river just beyond The Hollow, but it’s a bit of a trek,” he warns me and I feel my brows rise on my forehead, excitement seeping through my uncertainty.

  “You mean Charon? The ferryman? And river as in the River Styx? Really?” I challenge him, pulling up knowledge from my degree.

  “Yes. Really. And just so you know, if she hears you call her a ferryman, she’ll smack you upside the head with her oar. So just leave the talking to me okay?” he chuckles, and I roll my eyes.

  “So, you’re taking me to hell. Like, really?” I catechize him, trying to gauge exactly how far this charade can go before I have to put my hands up and go along with it.

  “Yes, so if you’re going to tell me to go there again you might want to think about the fact I have an apartment with a spa tub.” He raises an eyebrow at me, the black of his skin fading to flesh as he begins to laugh. Soon he’s back to his old self, no different except for a few ruffled seams on the outside of his leather jacket.

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” I mumble, still in disbelief.

  With this, he grabs my hand, and I let him take me, willingly, to hell.

  PANDORA

  “So they know…” is Lilliana’s first reaction. I have commanded the box to take us to the place it last opened a portal in this dimension, so here we stand, shrouded in the shadow of trees as the sun rises over the horizon, adjacent to some kind of manor house with sprawling grounds. We peer around broad trunks of trees as a chill wind whips around my ankles and lifts my dark hair from my shoulders.

  “That monstrosity of Abraxis’ loins does, that’s for certain.” I reply, looking back over my shoulder and into the gaunt chasms of her eye sockets.

  “The other Nexus members must know too. They implied visiting to the Indicatus courts, that means they’re involved,” Lilliana recalls the information correctly in a rasping whisper. Watching, I realise that as the couple begin to walk toward us with the vampy red head lagging behind the half demon, half man, we need to get out of here. I might be able to easily hide from a mortal with an affinity for fire, but I’m less likely to be able to evade the heightened senses of Xion.

  “Come, we must go… I will return with you to the Fallen Kingdom and then go and infiltrate the Courts. We must know what it is they’re hiding.” I whisper back to her as we slide around the tree trunk, disappearing.

  Picking up a long branch from the ground which has fallen, Lilliana grips it with her dirty claw-like nails and begins to sweep the ground, erasing our footsteps. She is smarter than her children had been, that is for sure.

  “Do you really think that girl killed Alpharia? I mean, look at her. She’s so… childish,” she asks me, looking up into my eyes with rage kindling behind the glassy surfaces of her own.

  Grasping the box within my fingers and sliding open the side with a septagram etched into the wood panel, the symbol of The Nexus, I toss it into the air, where a screaming portal of red and black shadows opens. I hate travelling back this way because it’s always way rougher going back to Mortaria than it is getting out.

  “Things are rarely what they seem, Lilliana. I believe that we must learn more about her before we write her off as benign. She might look weak, but who knows what lies underneath that milky white skin and those feisty red curls?” I taunt, taking her hand and pulling her, once more, back into my box.

  Chapter Eight

  Jungle Boogie

  SEPHY

  “This is The Hollow.”

  Xion stares up at the enormous gnarled tree, which looks as though it’s made from two intertwining trunks hugging each other like charred lovers.

  “It doesn’t look very hollow to me,” I observe, staring hard at the place that seems like it could, in fact, be an oversized fairy door, the kind my mother had made for me when I was a child.

  “That’s because we haven’t paid the toll yet. When Haedes bargained for your mother, he planted this tree and watered it with his own blood. It links this world and The Underworld so that she could be taken from here to there. There are only a number of linkways like this one in the world,” he informs me, eyes deadly serious and unwavering as I nod. No longer just content with argument and denial, I decide to actually humour him and listen for a change.

  “Okay, so what’s the toll?” I ask. My words fall into silence as he pulls out the black twisted shard of Obsidian, which forms the blade I had seen him wielding earlier, from the inside of his leather jacket. He holds out a large, calloused palm as we stand upon the damp earth, and the leaves rustle around us ominously, before slashing his skin and causing blood to run from the cut, thick and rich in colour. His pale-again skin is littered with similar cuts, suggesting he is no novice to this kind of payment.

  I watch him, holding my breath unintentionally as I wonder if I’m about to have my life changed forever or be shown that this is actually a seriously elaborate prank. I hope in a way it’s the first because at least then I won’t look like a complete moron.

  He presses his palm it to the tree trunk, in the space where a flat piece of wood bridges the two intertwining trunks. Here, they begin to separate at the base of the tree and sprawl into tentacular roots.

  “Now you,” he instructs, passing me the knife. I look to him and cock my eyebrow with a hesitant and cautious glance as I feel a rampant chill run unexpectedly down my spine.

  “Are you kidding me? Blood?” I practically giggle as the words leave my lips, finding this all utterly ridiculous, and yet annoyingly, anxiety still pools in my stomach.

  “If you’re not a fan of bodily fluids, then Mortaria isn’t the place for you.” Xion smirks as I sigh out and take the edge of the crystal to my own palm, hissing through my teeth as my soft skin breaks open and blood pours forth with the easy flow of red wine.

  “Who the hell is a fan of bodily fluids? What is there some bodily fluids fetish club I’m not aware of? Because you know if you’re into that shit, then we might have a problem… that’s just…” My voice is bordering on hysterical as he sighs, cutting me off and reaching out, one hand still pressed to the wood, to grab my wrist and pull me forward toward him.

  He slams my palm into the wood of the tree with haste, and I feel the unusual texture of the grain take in my blood like a sponge.

  In an instant, where there was once solid wood, nothingness takes its place, leaving me without anything to lean on.

  I stumble forward and hear Xion snigger under his breath, clearly amused by my lack of experience with walking through trippy tree portals. Kind of like all the cool kids are doing it, and I’m that one loser who hasn’t had the guts or something equally as immature.

  Darkness swirls in dense clouds, puffing and buzzing with red lightning which sparks in all directions. I take one step forward as I right myself on a floor that doesn’t appear to exist, then another with caution. Putting my hands out in front of me, I reach out as though there may be some invisible wall waiting to smack me in the face, paranoid still despite Xion’s claims being proved impossibly true.

  “Come on.” Xion is impatient now, moving forward into the blackness and grabbing my wrist again, pulling me forward and leading me like I am no more than a small child or a baby lamb, innocent, clueless and lost in the mist.

  As we continue to pace quickly through the dark, and the seconds pass, the only light for a long time seems to be intermittent scarlet slashes until, in a flash, a distinguished line of red appears. Freudian in connotation, like the opening of a flower or something, it widens. We get closer and closer to the growing vertical slit, before suddenly, I’m standing with my back against a tree identical to the one which I’ve just seemingly walk
ed through. This time though, the height of the tree is surrounded by a gilded metal cage, gothic in design, towering, cylindrical up the length of the trunk. The dark metal, which twists like something organic, casts intermittent shadows over my awed expression as I find myself completely out of place.

  I take a few moments, blinking as I realise that the setting is far from identical, and I lower my gaze to find my feet upon spongey moist soil.

  The smell that fills my nostrils is strong, rusty in fact, and overhead a vermillion hue settles over me as I gaze up and tread forwards beyond the cage. An unsettling bloody sky floods my vision. Free from stars, the only light is cast by an enormous violet sun which burns brightly as pluming flares of lilacs through indigo reach out from it like burning tendrils. I inhale. It’s a terrible beauty, but a beauty none the less.

  I’m standing in a forest, but everything seems too red, too bright. The tree trunks are distinguishable as charred silhouettes, but the ground is encased in bloody leaves, which also cling to the trees, creating a macrocosm of scarlet. There is no breeze, and the air is sticky, as though time is stood still here, even in the most natural of ways.

  “What the hell is this place?” I ask, smelling the air and feeling my eyes widen. My sass has disappeared, too stunned to find anything witty or sarcastic to say.

  I thought I knew everything of the world. I thought I knew how it worked, how to manipulate it. But with this, I momentarily realise that perhaps I’m but a speck.

  “Welcome to the Sanguine Forest. Don’t be alarmed by the smell; it’s a little overwhelming at first, but you’ll get used to the blood,” Xion explains, stepping forward and looking back at my expression with a smug grin. “Do you believe me now?” he asks, and I nod, unable to speak, or move, only able to gape at the heavy black clouds which distinguish themselves barely in a thin line against a horizon bordering on invisibility.

  “Blood?” I ask, feeling my stomach turn. Why is it always blood with him?

  “Yes, the trees, they feed off it. This was Succubi hunting ground once, but not any longer. Not since The Nexus colonised it.” He is shooting off information like a maniac gunman with a passion for pulling the trigger just to scare the crap out of his hostage, AKA me.

  “Succubi? The Nexus?” I repeat the terms, taking a small step forward and continuing to look down at my feet as I feel the soil beneath me give slightly. Before Xion answers, I find my favourite boots sinking into the dirt and blood squelching out under my weight.

  Ew.

  I want to run, I want to go back, to forget this place exists, but as I spin to do so, I find the portal is closed, and The Hollow is no longer… well, hollow. I note that the empty archway within the surrounding cave sports a simple plaque, reading only ‘In loving memory’ in swirly calligraphic font.

  “Succubi are demons; they feed on blood. Demons come in different species. The Banshee are another type; that’s the one you killed the other day. The Nexus are the council that organise the rehabilitation of mortal souls… so to speak,” he explains too fast, moving to turn, to walk away, leaving me confused even still. My heart rate rockets, suddenly needy as I stand in this new world, not sure of any of the rules.

  “What kind of demon are you?” I ask the question that’s the most pressing in my mind, the most dangerous, perhaps, but the one which is burning away at me with the highest intensity. He looks over his shoulder slowly, not meeting my gaze, almost as though he’s alarmed at my continuing gall despite everything.

  “I’m an Abraxian… well, half of one. I’m half human too, just like you,” he says, and I cock my head, looking at him with an odd expression.

  “Oh. Do you feed on blood?” I am direct once again, not having time for pleasantries, as I so rarely do.

  “No. I eat food, just like you,” he practically growls this time, looking slightly angry at my implication, and I bow my head, not having a witty comeback for this either.

  All in all, I’m stunned silent, and that is no small feat to achieve for anyone.

  “I know you have questions, but we need to keep moving. Ask on the way, and I’ll fill in the blanks for you,” he vows and I frown.

  “Well, it’s all a blank right now. I don’t even know why I’m here. Something about my debt?” I take a few steps forward now, rediscovering my footing and confidence as I stare into his familiar face, and we begin our journey through the forest.

  “Okay, well I’ll explain as best as I can, and then you can ask me anything you like, okay?” he suggests, and I nod, struggling to make words again as I stare at the overwhelmingly alien nature everything around me.

  The oddly coloured sky, the too dark clouds, the ruddy earth… it’s all surreal, and yet, somehow, I feel like I’ve been here before.

  Maybe it’s because my mother had supposedly been tied to this place, or because I’ve read so much about The Underworld in my studies, but even though I feel out of place, the mechanics of the setting don’t shock me, don’t cause me to pass out or hyperventilate. They just… are.

  “Okay, so in a nutshell, The Nexus have reason to believe you might not be entirely human.” He announces this, and I suddenly feel sick. He doesn’t make any sense, and it’s increasingly terrifying to me each and every time he opens his mouth.

  He looks around at the trees and then to my confused expression, as though he’s worried someone may be listening in. “It is suspected that you might be Haedes daughter,” he whispers this fact, his voice deep, and my heart stops in my chest for a moment.

  Is he serious?

  “My father is Adam Sinclair…” I retort, irritated as the image of my father’s face floating through my mind, clear as crystal, obscuring even the overwhelming nature of the surroundings in which I’m immersed.

  “Your mother, when she came down to The Underworld, she fell in love with Haedes. She wanted to leave your father for him, but then she found out upon her return that she was pregnant with you,” he continues, and I feel my rage becoming uncontrollable at the inkling my happy family was anything but.

  “So why didn’t she just bring me here, if he’s my dad?” I ask him, folding my arms in suspicion. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm nervously.

  “The sun here… it stops mortal aging. It’s made up of a combination of the Eternal and Resurrection flame. One is red and one is blue, that’s why it’s purple in colour. It keeps the deceased mortals here alive for as long as we need them. If she’d have brought you here as a child, well, you’d still be one right now. Haedes created it to stop his Godly powers destroying his mortal body. That kind of power makes him age far quicker than a normal mortal.” He explains this, and my eyes widen again.

  “What do you mean? The dead mortals?” I focus in on this particular sentence and my heart expands a little. Could it be my parents are here?

  “This place, it’s used to purify mortal souls. To return the darkness that corrupts them during their lifespan back to where it came from, The Well of Eternal Torment. Once the darkness is returned, they can move on to the Crucible of Gaia and be reborn again.” The explanation seems complex, and doesn’t match anything I’ve studied for the past seven or so years. I mean, there are names I recognise, but everything seems to be twisted up.

  “Huh…” is the only reply I can come up with, wanting him simply to continue as we hurry past charred trees, and the purple sun blisters overhead, eerie and beautiful all at once, especially now I know it’s function.

  “Souls of the deceased rise into permanent bodies which are constructed from the Mortarian soil itself in Golgotha, called Doppelgangers or Doppels for short. Golgotha is the graveyard which lies between the Sanguine forest and the Plains of Ichor. After they rise there, they’re taken to the Indicatus Courts, where we’re going now, for sentencing,” he concludes, and I feel my brow furrow.

  “Sentencing, for what?” I query as we reach the edge of the forest. The trees here are thinning, and I feel my heart pound as a light white glow ap
pears from nowhere.

  As we close the gap between us and the source of the light, I realise that the glow is coming from the river. The River Styx.

  I gape as we approach the sloping, ruddy bank and Xion watches my face.

  It’s real. It’s really real.

  “Their sins. Every sinner has a different role here, and each role helps purify their souls so they can move on.” He pauses for breath, and I take it all in. The surroundings, his gaze, the inclination that I might in fact caught up with the very Gods I have studied in so much depth for so many years.

  Is it fate? Coincidence?

  It doesn’t seem very likely that I’d be so fascinated without some kind of divine intervention, or twist, which it is now growing clear to me is entirely possible.

  “So, what roles are there?” I ask, my skin turning translucent as the light from the water, which looks like liquid moonlight, casts me in an alabaster hue.

  “There is quite a wide variety, but by far the worst is for those sinners whose main crime is wrath or pride. They’re sent to the Ashen Waste to protect the city from the demon armies.” He looks at my curious expression, smiling, I’m sure at my compliance in listening to what would usually seem like insanity. “The Demon Lords want to take back the city and their hunting grounds, and it’s the job of the sinners in the Souldier Forces of The Ashen Waste to stop them,” he clarifies, and I nod again, following surprisingly well despite the complexity of the issue.

  “So, The Nexus, they organise all this?” I ask, and he nods his head, eyes flitting between me and the water.

  “Yes, that is their sole purpose here. They are perhaps the most important council of the Higher Plains, because without the constant control over the movement of souls, things can go very badly wrong for the universe,” he warns, and my eyes widen.