“The rock was carried down the side of the mountain by a glacier,” she said, not approaching the hole just yet, though I had a sinking suspicion that was where we were headed.
“I thought it was kind of random here in the middle of the field.”
The last of the sun’s rays faded away, and naturally, Agnes invited me to enter the hole ahead of her.
Not wanting to look like a wimp, I approached it, though cautiously. It was deep, and I couldn’t tell if there were stairs.
As I was turning back to ask Agnes how I was supposed to get down, something—or someone—from the hole reached up and grabbed my ankle, yanking hard. The next thing I knew, I was falling fast, tumbling and shrieking as I spun through the blackness.
Chapter Nine
Instead of landing with a jolt, though, my feet swung around until they were pointing down and my head was up. My fall slowed, and I landed gently on what felt like a stone surface.
“Is it her?” a woman’s voice whispered through the darkness around me. The way it echoed led me to believe I was in a large cavern of sorts.
“Yes, yes!” a man’s voice responded. “It is.”
“Where’s Agnes?”
“I’m here,” Agnes said, standing somewhere behind me.
“Let’s go, then,” someone said.
I was gently prodded from behind with either a stick or somebody’s hand. Probably a stick, judging by how Agnes had acted about touching me earlier.
Trusting I wouldn’t fall, I took a step forward, scooting my foot along the ground as I went.
“Does it have to be so dark down here?” I asked. My voice trembled, showing I was more nervous than I’d realized. While I knew I would need light to see, I didn’t want to know what surrounded me.
“Oh, drat,” Agnes said. “I forgot the torches.”
“Typical,” one of the men’s voices responded. “Harry, do you have one?”
“Of course,” Harry said.
I heard shuffling and then what sounded like someone striking flint. A couple of sparks flew, but not many. “It’s too damp,” he said. “Fire Impeder, you can light things, right?”
I nodded, feeling like an idiot for having forgotten I could create fire and light my own way. “Yes. Hand me the torch.”
A solid wooden object was placed in my hand and I felt up and down it, making sure I knew which end to burn. I gathered the powers that were a constant, gentle pulse around me, asking them to light the torch. Even though my magic was always there, I still struggled with pulling enough of it in sometimes. This should be easy, though. I felt the familiar tug on my powers, and a flame burst into life. It wasn’t very big—I’d never developed my magic outwardly—but it was sufficient, and soon, a rosy glow filled the little cavern. I raised the torch, looking around me.
If I’d been surrounded by people before, it didn’t look that way now. “Hey,” I said. “Where did everyone go?”
“Light is not our friend,” Agnes responded. “We will have to stay in the shadows.”
I nearly felt guilty for needing to see. “Do you want me to put it out?”
“Only if you can travel quickly without it,” Harry said.
I looked ahead. The tunnel led around several huge boulders, only parts of it visible here and there. There was no way I would be able to do this on my own, especially if it would be as long a trip as Agnes had led me to believe. I shook my head. “I won’t—just let me know if I need to turn it off.”
I started forward and heard the shades follow, their whispers echoing off the granite walls as they kept up. The tunnel was uneven, and it was very chilly. My breath was visible, and I was grateful that I’d worn so many layers. The tunnel stretched on, moving around big rocks and passing by chunks of what looked like ice. They were light in color, but not as white as they would have been if sunlight shone on them, so I couldn’t be certain.
It was hours before the shades finally said it was time to stop and take a break. I hadn’t wanted to complain, but I was simultaneously too cold and too warm, and my joints and muscles were seriously angry with me for overusing them. For crying out loud, this was pathetic. What had happened to the dancer I’d been in grade school? I’d let myself slip too far, obviously. Why hadn’t I been taking advantage of the fabulous hiking terrain that surrounded my home? My body was doing so poorly. Being tired after a few hours of walking on a relatively flat surface was ridiculous.
I only caught glimpses of the ghosts that surrounded me every now and then—they were each in varying stages of rotting—but I felt their eyes on me the entire time, hungrily watching me as I ate. Once I was ready to continue, I packed my things away, picked up the torch, and started walking again.
After several hours, we decided to stop so I could get some sleep. I lay on the tunnel floor, cushioned by my fluffy clothes and using my purse as a pillow. I fell asleep pretty quickly, which surprised me.
After I rested for who knows how long, one of the shades awakened me, and we started forward again. This time, the shades talked to me as much as they had to each other the previous day. They told me about themselves and why they were there, and I found it fascinating and interesting.
Apparently, in life, they’d been hired to guard the passageway to the Akashic by a group of creatures known as Cerberi. I’d heard of a Cerberus that was a guardian of the underworld in mythology. But from what they said in response to that, mythology wasn’t always accurate—who would’ve thought—and Cerberi mainly just guarded knowledge. The shades were hired because they didn’t have loved ones to return to after death. The job was one that would continue forever.
“How did they pay you while you were alive versus now?” I asked.
“Most of us needed information, and to get it, we agreed to work for the Cerberi forever,” Harry said. “The knowledge we gained was valuable enough that we continue to do the job willingly.”
So, it wasn’t a job that paid per hour. I don’t know why I’d assumed it would be. “Will we run into any of the Cerberi?”
“No. They rarely come. Too many of them are evil now, and they don’t have access to the Akashic any longer. Those who are good are busy protecting humans who will eventually help rid this planet of those who are evil.”
I didn’t have a response for that, and I continued in silence, traipsing along the tunnel, the shades bickering and conversing around me. I didn’t know what it was—probably the fact that I couldn’t completely see them—but other than that conversation, I never warmed up to talking with them, and that disappointed me somewhat. It was like an awkward first date that you really wanted to work out, but which obviously wouldn’t.
The shades let me know as we finally neared Mount Koven. I understood by now that Mount Koven wasn’t a separate mountain, but was a peak on Denali itself. It felt like we’d walked far enough to have reached a completely different continent.
The closer we got to our destination, the more humid and warm the air became. Eventually, I had to take off my coat. I tried tying it around my waist, but it was too fluffy and big to stay that way, so I ended up flinging it over one arm and holding my purse with the other.
We reached a massive double door made of stone, wood, and intricately designed metal. It was rounded at the top, and a little bit of light glowed around the edges. The shades told me to put out my torch.
“You won’t need it inside, anyway,” Agnes said.
“She won’t need it now,” Harry responded.
I put out the light and set the torch down on the cold stone ground. My eyes adjusted slowly. I was surprised to find that, as Harry had said, I didn’t need the torch anymore. It wasn’t that I could see better or that the tunnel was lighter without it, but my eyes seemed to take in details just fine. How, though? I couldn’t tell.
Agnes approached me, her hand hovering over my arm as if she wanted to touch me to get my attention. Standing in front of me got my full attention. Her skin looked whole and healthy in the magical light.<
br />
“This part is difficult for mortals,” she said. “Trust me that everything will be okay.”
Uh . . . was that supposed to be reassuring? “What do you mean, ‘difficult for mortals’?”
She chewed her bottom lip, a concerned expression on her face. “You have to leave your body behind. Only spirits can enter the Akashic.”
“What? You’re kidding, right?”
Agnes shook her head. “Your body will still be alive and functioning.” She took a breath—did shades breathe? “We will do our best to protect it, but you need to know that it will be vulnerable while you are in the Akashic. Don’t prolong your visit.”
I felt my eyes bugging. “Vulnerable? To whom?”
“The hounds.” She acted like that should explain it.
“What hounds?”
“Those who devour all.”
I gasped when I realized she was referring to the dog that had been on the opposite side of the tracks the other day. “They can come here?”
She nodded, then hesitated. “The evil ones were Cerberi. They used to guard the knowledge here when they were good. So they remember the entrance to the tunnel, but they aren’t allowed access to the Akashic itself—only the good ones are. The evil ones have stolen bodies before, but it hasn’t happened for years. And they don’t know that you’re here, so we should be okay.”
I shook my head. “I’m not good with ‘should be.’ How long will it take me to get the information I need?”
She shrugged. “It depends on how quickly you find the correct shade.”
I folded my arms, taking a step back and surveying her. “Okay, tell me what’s going on. I have to find a shade that has information?” This whole time, I’d been picturing the knowledge being stored in books that I’d slide the magical data chip into. I don’t know why—probably because knowledge is traditionally stored in books.
Agnes again put her hand out as if to comfort me. “You are more worried than you need to be.” She motioned toward the door. “When you enter the room beyond, keep the data chip in your hand, and as you walk around the shades that are inside, the appropriate one will sense you searching for him or her and should approach you.”
“Should?” I asked. This was getting worse and worse.
“It depends on who possesses the information. Most shades are willing to impart what they know freely and easily. But occasionally, you will come across one who isn’t quite so eager to help.”
Judging by the fact that no one had done it already, I was positive I would have to open the door. “Tell me how to get in.”
Chapter Ten
Agnes and a couple of the other shades approached the door, motioning for me to as well. “Put your hand on the wood right here,” Harry said, pointing at a small box.
I did so, then gasped as my skin immediately began burning. It felt as if millions of needles were stabbing me at once. The burning pain got too intense, and I pulled away involuntarily, looking at my palm. Every inch of my hand was covered in blood—my own.
I looked up at the shades. “What was that for?”
“Only those who have been granted permission to enter the Akashic have the ability to do so. You must prove you are who you say you are.”
I looked at the door, wondering if I pulled away too quickly. “Do I need to put my hand there again?”
“We will see,” Harry said. “It takes a moment.”
The blood was barely visible on the door, glistening. It stayed there for several seconds, then slowly seeped into the grainy surface. The wood inside the square began glowing, and I watched as that glow spread across the wood, melting into grooves etched into the door that looked like runes and symbols.
The door vibrated before swinging inward.
I gasped. A vast, magnificent room opened up in front of me. The whole thing glowed as if lit by hundreds of thousands of blue-gold lights.
Agnes indicated for me to enter.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward. If I’d remembered I’d need to leave my body behind, I might have gone a lot more slowly.
Walking through the threshold was like passing through a giant squeegee or forcing myself through a massive sheet of plastic wrap. It was a bit sticky, but more than anything, it created a pressure that propelled me forward, and with a great sucking motion, my spirit stepped out of my body, and I left all physical sense behind. A low ringing sounded in my brain—was that from my physical or spiritual ears?
Turning, I gasped, looking at my almost-corpse, now lying on the ground of the tunnel. My eyes were open, staring up. I didn’t look alive.
“Am I okay?” I asked.
Agnes nodded. “You’re still alive. Continue, Lizzie. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, if those hounds you talked about don’t come.”
“You will sense if they do, but I promise you, we will guard your body.” She indicated for me to turn around.
I did so, then gasped again. The room was completely full of spirits that hadn’t been there before. Those closest to the door had turned to see me as I came in, but a whole multitude of them hadn’t even noticed my entrance.
One or two smiled at me, and I was grateful for that. None seemed concerned about my presence—they must have had a lot of trust in their method of entry not to be worried about a stranger.
A man approached me. “What information do you seek?”
I was almost too distracted by the clothing he wore to hear his question. He was dressed like an Orthodox Jew—complete with a big, round fur hat, black clothes, and curls on the sides of his face. I even saw the little rope tied around his waist.
He was translucent—all the spirits were—and I was actually grateful for that. After the experience with Agnes earlier when she’d gone from being physical and visible to rotted and falling apart, this was much preferred.
I showed him the data chip in my hand, and he took it from me for a moment. After examining it, he nodded, then handed it back. “The information you seek is that way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and stepped to the side, letting me pass him.
As I continued, I was careful not to touch any of the shades. I didn’t know what would happen if I did, but the way Agnes had acted made me not want to find out.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what dying was like. I hadn’t gone through a tunnel toward a bright light, of course, but multiple religions believed that when somebody died, loved ones and friends would be there to greet them.
I didn’t know what I believed, but for now, I pretended that these people were friends and loved ones. It made them less creepy.
A couple more shades stopped me as I continued, asking what I was looking for. Each of them were dressed in very unusual clothing. One lady wore a huge and magnificent dress that could only have come from the era when women bound their waists so tiny that all their intestines were pushed up inside their rib cages. She and the others continued directing me deeper into the room.
I finally came upon the right shade. He was a weathered, wizened, nice-looking man who wore a long robe-like toga thing. I’m not very good at which outfit came from which era. It was definitely pre-eighties, though.
He took the data chip from me and rolled it over in his hand. He didn’t even need to look at it before saying, “Yes, I remember this prophecy. In fact, I gave this prophecy.”
I relaxed, feeling as the stress that had entered my shoulders and neck began seeping away. “What can you tell me?” I asked.
“Everything. Alexander wasn’t permitted to tell you very much.” He rubbed his chin with one hand, fisting the data chip in the other, surveying me. “At the beginning of time, long before man had been created, the Hounds of Tindalos existed. They had free rein over most anything they came across. The Great Ones allowed them to devour innocent and evil alike. They were directionless, purposeless, and subject to fleeting whims and desires.
“Any time someone learned about them too quickly, the hounds would appear and devo
ur that individual. Those of us who knew of them spent all our time hiding and fleeing. It became evident that if we didn’t stop them, they would eventually destroy everything.
“Votes were cast, and I was chosen to approach the hounds and offer them an alternative. The plan was that once I was close enough, I’d touch one, and using my ability, would See their past, present, and future, and would find a weakness we could exploit. And maybe, just maybe, they’d accept the alternatives I would present them with.
“I got their attention, and as is their habit when they notice anything, they tried to devour me. I held them off long enough, though, to offer several bribes.
“The first was a truly physical body, granting them the ability to turn into living dogs. It was somewhat appealing, but not enough. So I also gave them the power to shift into humans, who are superior to dogs in many ways. This was a little better, but I could sense that they still required more.
“With great reluctance, I offered our final bribery: all knowledge. But it came with a condition—those who gained knowledge would ultimately choose between good and evil, and hopefully, we’d be able to persuade them to live a normal life and give up their former ways. I didn’t tell them of this hope or the condition for fear they would all choose evil.
“They accepted all of the briberies, and I touched their heads, granting them access to that knowledge. Imagine my surprise, though, when I touched them, to find that they have very few weaknesses, and the only creature that could destroy a hound was a hound. Except for one person—a Fire Arete who would not even be born for thousands of years. You, Dorothy Elizabeth Ashton.”
I blinked. My first thought was, oh, gosh, he knew my full name. I know, I know, not very deep. My second thought was holy crap—what have I gotten into and how do I get out of it? My third—and final—thought was along the lines of whoa, this is deep. This is really deep.
“Why me?” I know I’d asked it before, but now, I was with the actual guy who really knew.
The Shade Amulet Page 5