Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by Taylor Leigh

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Reginald asked gently, helping the creature up to a sitting position.

  ‘This is not the reception I was expecting,’ the creature said contemplatively in a voice that rasped.

  Arkron barked with laughter. ‘The hell did you think would happen? Sneaking in here like you did?’

  The Denizen clasped his side and winced. ‘From what I had heard, I had assumed I would be treated with some civility.’

  Arkron eyed him. ‘You do realise that we’re in a war against your kind, don’t you?’

  The Denizen crossed his arms. ‘And do you realise that perhaps not all of us agree with what Sinsetun’s goals are?’

  Arkron, for once, seemed lost for a reply.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Reginald asked.

  ‘Crammell. I’m a cavern worker.’

  Reginald nodded. ‘And why are you here? Why should we trust you? What do you have to offer?’

  Crammell straightened. ‘I know the Denizen’s master plan. They don’t simply want the throne.’

  Arkron rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, we know. You have a more devious motive.’

  Crammell blinked, a little surprised. ‘But you don’t know how it will be accomplished, do you?’

  Silence.

  ‘I do. I helped deliver it.’

  Reginald couldn’t explain why, but he felt a blanket of dread slowly settle over them.

  Arkron perked up, sudden nervousness flashing in her eyes. ‘What did you help deliver?’

  ‘Shards. A stone and her sister, broken from its mother in a distant Realm, long ago. They’ve been lost, separated from their Realm Mother and each other, till now. Now we’ve brought them together. Sahabra will be reunited once again. Ah, yes, the witch knows of it. The stars are right. This year, when the Other World rolls back into the sky, the stone will be united and the doorway will be opened. It only happens every five hundred years, and now is the time!’

  Reginald shut his eyes for a moment. There was something nagging at his mind. A memory he pushed from the front of his thoughts. Something he’d seen when he’d talked with the gate keeper, those long months ago. ‘What is this stone, Sahabra?’

  Crammell trembled. ‘Red like blood, brought from another Realm long ago, broken from its mother and split again. It is a key to sever the fabric that separates our worlds.’

  His stomach tumbled over, feeling as if he’d knocked rocks down a hill. He’d seen it. He’d seen the Denizens bringing it into the city! How could he have forgotten about it?

  Reginald frowned. ‘What does this stone’s sister look like?’

  Crammell shrugged. ‘It is small, well-disguised. A shard of a shard.’

  More remembrance hit him. He thought back even further than his speaking trip to the city, back to when he’d first discovered what had happened to his aunt. ‘Like a stone on a ring?’

  Arkron stared at him sharply, face unfathomable.

  ‘Aye. So you’ve seen it. One of the rulers must already be gifted with it.’

  Reginald let out a deep breath and ran his hands over his closely shaved head. He turned to Arkron. ‘What does that mean?’

  Her face was dark. ‘It means we’ve only got a few months till the Daemon invasion begins.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Victoria stood on the soggy shoreline, trying to come to terms with the smell of rotting plants and dead fish. Upon her discovery of the body, Andrew had hauled himself up and piloted the skiff over to the spot. He’d stripped out of his suit and began sorting his equipment, humming a classical tune with glee as Victoria flagged down the faint shapes of Tollin and Molly from the centre of the lake.

  Now here they all were, standing on the foul beach, staring down at the corpse. Andrew was especially intrigued and well prepared. He seemed to have known ahead of time they’d find a body. Victoria wasn’t entirely sure she approve of just how happy the corpse made him. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him so cheerful as he was now.

  ‘Tartan. I’d say one metre seven centimetres in height, female, probably about twenty-five…’

  ‘Oh, come off it!’ Molly said. ‘We know it’s Elizabeth!’

  He pulled on a pair of black gloves and lifted up the corpse’s hand, examined it. Dropped it. Turned the body’s head to the left, right and up, his eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘By the looks of things she drowned, which is odd, the storm last night wasn’t enough to sink a ship if it was piloted by someone skilled and she’s a sailor. The current of the lake washed her ashore here probably three hours ago. Hard to tell what caused her to drown without seeing the ship. The water has washed away most of the evidence…’ He pulled open the woman’s eyelids. ‘What the deuce? Well, that’s unusual.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Her eyes. They’re yellow.’

  Tollin frowned. ‘Yellow? Could be some form of jaundice? Couldn’t it?’

  Andrew scowled and lifted up one of the dead woman’s slender hands. ‘No, I don’t think so. She is a sailor, yes, but she’s healthy. The rest of the skin is normal pigmentation. Maybe a slightly grey hue, but there aren’t any other signs to suggest that.’

  Victoria wrapped her arms around herself. ‘This isn’t very decent,’ she remarked, looking towards her companions. Tollin and Molly ignored her, instead staring, captivated, at Andrew.

  ‘Cause of death…’ Andrew’s hands flicked back up to the neck. ‘Like I said, drowning...’ He stopped, disturbed. ‘Wait.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tollin asked.

  ‘I’m wrong. That’s not what killed this woman.’

  The statement made everyone pause. Andrew did not often admit to being wrong.

  Tollin knit his brows. ‘Not what killed her?’ He was at Andrew’s side now. ‘Her body certainly has all of the signs of drowning.’ His eyes darted over the body quickly. ‘Ah, yes…of course…’

  ‘What?’ Molly and Victoria both asked together.

  ‘Poisoned,’ Andrew stated grimly.

  ‘What? How can you tell that?’ Victoria demanded, hesitantly marching forward.

  ‘Normally I couldn’t,’ Andrew admitted. ‘But see the blackened colour of the veins and lips? I can’t think of any other explanation. Her skin colour, how grey it is, that’s another clue.’

  ‘Could just be because of the state her body is in,’ Molly suggested. ‘Death does things to the body.’

  ‘No. I think she was in this condition when she left. Perhaps whatever it was caused her to have a mishap on the lake.’

  Victoria grimaced. ‘But who would poison her?’

  Tollin started pacing. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t intentional.’

  They all looked to him.

  ‘Well,’ Tollin said, ambling round the body. ‘It’s possible for accidents to happen when under the influence.’

  Andrew sat back on his heels. ‘So, what are we looking at here? A case of addiction? I don’t recognise the symptoms if this is some sort of drug, and I usually deal with these cases.’

  ‘Why get drugged up and sail out here?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘Perhaps someone was after her,’ Tollin thought. ‘When people get involved with illegal substances there are always consequences. Or…’ His eyes shone. ‘Perhaps she thought someone was after her. Paranoia could be a side-effect. If she was drugged she wouldn’t be thinking coherently.’

  ‘She could have stolen it, whatever it is,’ Molly suggested. ‘I just wish we knew what we were dealing with. I treat people with addiction problems and I’ve never seen the likes of this before. Elizabeth wasn’t a liked woman. Didn’t have many friends, but I didn’t think she had people out wanting to kill her. However, I wouldn’t put her past stealing drugs.’

  Andrew stood. ‘If there’s a new drug out there and it’s causing violence then we need to figure out what it is as quickly as possible. I better get this body back to the lodge where I can look at it more thoroughly. I might be able to determine what manner of poison did her in with the use
of my equipment.

  ‘Finally! Something interesting is happening!’

  Andrew loped back to the boat. He pulled out a blanket to put the corpse on, muttering to himself. Victoria could have sworn there was a new spring to his step. She scowled as she watched him tramp back to the body.

  ‘Hang on,’ Molly said. ‘Don’t you notice anything else that’s weird?’

  ‘Everything’s dead,’ Victoria said bleakly, looking around. She had noticed the foulness of the place ever since she’d floated past it with Andrew, hours earlier. With everything so beautiful and green around, it stuck out painfully obvious.

  ‘Yes, Victoria,’ Andrew said in a jaded tone. ‘Very accurate observation, but we do know that she’s dead.’

  ‘No, not just that, don’t you see?’ Victoria gestured to the stunted, rotting bulrushes and the dead fish clogging the shoreline.

  Tollin’s eyes lit up with a keen spark. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, standing up straight and glancing round. ‘They’re right…’

  ‘And look, see here?’ Molly pointed down to the ground and Victoria noticed in a bit of revulsion what she was pointing at. It was a frog, but so deformed it hardly resembled a frog. It had too many legs and its face drug through the clay. ‘There’s more than one.’

  ‘The fish, too,’ Victoria said, turning back to the shoreline. ‘There’s lots of dead fish. Some have extra heads.’

  ‘Interesting…’ Tollin mused. ‘Now I wonder what could have caused that?’

  Andrew sighed. ‘Victoria?’

  She trotted forward. ‘Yes?’

  ‘My leather case. Go open it and get out two of the glass phials and bring them here. And careful not to break them! They aren’t easy to come by.’

  She obediently did as she was told and presented Andrew with the phials. He uncorked them both and filled one with water from the creek and one with the black, mucky sand. ‘I’ll see if there’s any similarities between this body and any contaminates there might be in this stream. Perhaps she isn’t drugged after all. Perhaps there’s something in the water.’

  Tollin bit his lip thoughtfully, sharing a conspiratorial look with Molly.

  Victoria glanced back at the body, trying to ignore them. There was something about it nagging at her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Tollin slogged through the muck and cast a long gaze at the creek bleeding into the lake. ‘Where does this originate at?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Andrew grunted, studying the body more closely under a magnifying glass.

  ‘Well, you’re the expert on these things, aren’t you?’ Tollin cast Andrew a trying stare.

  Andrew eyed Tollin a bit peevishly. ‘Yes…but that leads off into Druid land. I haven’t had the opportunity to discover its source. It heads somewhere up into the mountains, from the south, into Blaiden territory, I think. But beyond that I can’t tell you much.’ He looked up from the body, eyes shining. ‘But I know where it passes by. Watcher’s Keep.’ Andrew dug a bar of soap out of his bag, walked down to the water’s edge and started scrubbing at his hands feverishly.

  ‘Oh,’ Tollin grinned. ‘Fancy a little trip, you lot?’

  Victoria frowned. ‘What exactly are we looking for?’

  ‘What indeed, Victoria? What indeed!’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Reginald and Arkron pushed through the stifling streets of the lowest layer of the city at a quick pace. Reginald was sweating heavily in the thick cloak he was forced to wear to keep his identity hidden. He envied Arkron, who only wore a veil to conceal herself.

  She was walking so fast through the crowd it was hard for him to keep up. A small dark part of him toyed with the idea of losing her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had time for a breather and she was completely to blame. As if Arkron had read his mind, she was back at his side, pulling him forward. Not that he really wanted to leave. He was too invested in this. He actually cared. It was a new, refreshing feeling.

  Reginald was overwhelmed by how many people, animals and vendors there were around him. After his time in the desert, the sudden liveliness of the city was a little intense. Different instruments droned from alleys and children screamed and shouted over barking dogs and bellowing elephants. Dust persistently hung in the air, constantly stirred by the thousands of feet that tread every way at once.

  The day-long walk to the city had given him plenty of time to think, but he still had absolutely no idea about what he was going to say to people. By the looks of things, no-one wanted or cared to hear him. Haggard faces were all around him and the feeling of oppression hung in the air like the cloud of dust kicked up by the crowds. Few Denizens were down this far, and the ones that were were just as bad off as the humans. Hunger, misery and hopelessness were almost palatable in the crush of sweaty bodies.

  He tried to make eye contact with the many different faces he saw round him. He wanted to see something friendly that would give him some courage to stand up for these people. There wasn’t much. Everyone was either so broken-down and tired, hurried or angry he couldn’t find anything to connect to. It was discouraging. These people didn’t want to fight. How could they revolt when they hardly had enough strength to get through the day?

  A new noise reached his ears, surprising, considering the din. Reginald turned around in a tight circle, forgetting Arkron, and saw where the sound was coming from. The culprit was a large woman bound in rough clothing, sitting outside what could only be called a hovel, weeping. She didn’t seem to worry about the scene she was causing, no-one was paying her any mind as it was.

  Reginald pushed through the crowd towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t show any sign of realisation he was there.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The woman turned up red rimmed eyes to him with a tired, worn face. From the tale her expression told, she had been in her position for some time. ‘They took Rackson!’

  Reginald scowled. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘My son! The priests took him. Said he had to serve his part, it was a great honour for him to be sacrificed in the arena!’

  Reginald forced back a shudder. ‘When did they take him?’

  ‘This morning. He’ll fight to the death at the end of the week!’ She burst into sobs again. ‘I have heard of it before, children being stolen in the night without a word. This was much worse, seeing him taken. He was all I had left; my husband is far away in the army, if he’s still alive. He’ll never return either way.’

  It was then that Arkron arrived. ‘What’s going on here?’ she barked.

  ‘Her son, the Denizens took him,’ Reginald repeated numbly.

  Arkron nodded and tugged on his arm. ‘Welcome to the real world. Come on, we have to go.’

  Reginald leant down next to the woman. ‘I’m terribly sorry about your son. My name is Reginald. I don’t know if I can do anything about your son, but I promise you, I will stop this from happening in the future.’

  Arkron continued to wind through the crowd, towing him along. She apparently had a set destination in mind, but she hadn’t shared her plans with Reginald. He was used to it by now and didn’t bother protesting against her demands. He owed his life to her, and if in return that meant doing as she said, well then, he didn’t have much say in the matter, he supposed.

  In time, he realised that they were nearing the lower layer’s main bazaar.

  Arkron finally stopped in the flow of people. She had guided him to a large, round, red building. It stood out in the bazaar like an overseer, keeping stern watch over those below.

  Reginald automatically took a step back. He could almost feel the palpable energy wafting off of it. It was a dark place, and not for humans. He hadn’t forgotten his experience in the palace, and that one hadn’t even been Denizen territory. This building before him, it was sacred, used to contact the Dark World. The penalty for treading on the very steps was death.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Reginald crie
d, feeling his panic rise. The crowded, hot square was getting to him. No-one was paying them any mind but he couldn’t fight back his paranoia. The eyes of the palace could be anywhere. If he didn’t keep his head down, he could be strapped to a pole in the desert by the end of the day.

  For trying to keep their presence undercover, Arkron definitely wasn’t helping. She did not seem to have personal regard for any consequences they might be facing. Her constant rabble-rousing with the commoners was enough to bring the full wrath of the palace down on them. She was a beacon for trouble. But this was by far the worst thing she’d come up with.

  Arkron hauled him by the arm towards the chipped stairs of the temple like a cross nanny disciplining a child. The current of people parted around them, not wanting to slow their pace over the domestic dispute.

  ‘Get up there and speak!’ she hissed through her veil. Her grey eyes flared with a dangerous light.

  Reginald stared up at the temple. Horrible horned faces carved along the eaves leered down at him. Off to one side was a big ceremonial bell, hanging like an overweight, sullen bat. The entire structure smelled of death and evil.

  ‘Are you mad?’ he cried, pulling his hood closer round his face. ‘Do you have any idea what happens to people who walk on that sacred ground?’ He shrank away from the steps as if they might bite his ankles.

  Arkron rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you remember anything I told you? There is no sacred ground; this is just a weak spot between Realms. They’re everywhere! I could find one of those spots in the palace’s lavatory! Nothing for you to worry about! It’s just a lot of hype over nothing. Now get up there and give these poor souls something to think about!’

  Reginald swore. ‘You’re going to get me killed! If any Denizens show up, I’m blaming it all on you.’

  ‘That’s what I’m here for. Now shove off!’

  He rested his sandaled foot down on the first step, eyes squeezed shut.

  Nothing happened.

  No pit opened beneath him. No illness struck him. He opened his eyes in surprise. A slight thought tugged at him. Maybe Arkron was right!