“We’re here.”
18
The House of Ashes
BELLADONNA SAT UP. They had left the forest and were now coasting down a dirt track toward the edge of a vast dark lake ringed by jagged mountains that seemed torn and wounded as they strained toward the ink-black sky. In the center of the lake was a small island almost entirely occupied by a rambling fortress that spread across the rocky outcrop like a fungus.
Belladonna’s stomach flip-flopped as she tried to remain outwardly calm. She peered at the back of Steve’s head, wondering if he was awake.
He was. He turned and glanced back at her, smiling thinly.
“It looks just like school.”
Belladonna smiled back. The shore of the lake was visible now, the water lapping gently over a pebbled beach and a small boat bobbing at a decrepit dock.
The closer they got, the more dilapidated the dock appeared. It had clearly been a fairly robust structure in its day. But its day had long since passed and now the boards and piers were black and rotted. With each movement of the tiny waves, small bits of wood could be seen breaking off and dropping into the water. The boat wasn’t much better—Belladonna had seen more impressive craft on the lake in the park at home. The fact that this one didn’t have a pedal paddle wheel was just about the only factor in its favor, so far as she could make out.
They had almost reached the dock before they saw the boatman. He was swathed in a black coat that was tied around his waist with a piece of rope, and an old blue muffler was wrapped around his throat. He sat on the edge of the dock, eating sunflower seeds and watching their approach.
Grandpa Johnson brought the car to a halt and they all got out. Was it Belladonna’s imagination or were they all moving more slowly, as if they could delay the inevitable end of the journey? They walked down the last ragged bit of track toward the boatman.
“Hi,” he said when they were close enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice.
“Hello,” said Mr. Johnson, smiling.
“What can I do for ya?”
“We need to get to the island,” said Belladonna nervously.
“Do you, now? And why would that be?”
“We have to see the Queen of the Abyss.”
“Really? Old family friends, are ya?”
“Well, no…”
“Because otherwise you’d have to be totally loony tunes to deliberately put yourselves in the way of that one.”
He hoisted himself to his feet and stomped down the dock toward them. Belladonna winced at each footfall, expecting the whole structure to give way completely and dump him into the drink. As he came closer, she was able to make out his face. It was friendlier than she’d imagined, wide-browed and open, though he had a fairly impressive scar that ran down one cheek and right across his chin. His hair was thin on top and grizzled gray. The overall effect was of a professional wrestler who had fallen on hard times.
“We still need to go,” she said.
“Yes, well, there’s a price.”
“No, there isn’t,” said Grandpa Johnson. “And you can drop the act. You’re not Charon and this isn’t the Styx. You’re Hank Miller from Philadelphia; you used to drive a bus, and this is Grendelmere.”
“What if I am?” grunted the boatman defensively. “And what if I did drive a bus? Everyone paid for a ticket back then, and half the time the buses weren’t even clean. Why should the trip to the House of Ashes be any different? It’s a lot harder, I can tell you that. There’s no engine, for a start. I have to row and this water’s like molasses.”
“Did you do something wrong?” asked Steve.
“Wrong? What makes you think I did something wrong?”
“Well, most of the Land of the Dead seems to be really nice and…”
“Nice?” barked the boatman. “Nice? It’s all sunny and full of happy people and animals and … things. I mean, look at that car you pitched up in!”
“What’s wrong with it?” demanded Grandpa Johnson a little defensively.
“Fins!” sneered the boatman. “That’s all I gotta say. Fins!”
“You don’t like the sunshine, then?” asked Elsie.
“The sunshine’s fine. The sun shines here, as matter of fact … occasionally. No, it’s the people. I drove a bus. I seen enough people. I like it here. I sit by the water. I row people over when they want. Not that anybody much wants. And I fish. It’s pretty good.”
“You fish?” said Mrs. Johnson, looking at the gray-green water. “What kind of fish do you catch?”
“Kind of weird ones, to tell the truth. Big eyes. Lots of teeth. They don’t taste great.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“But it’s not about the fish. It’s about fishing.”
“I can understand that,” said Grandpa Johnson. “Used to like a bit of sitting on a riverbank myself.”
“Okay,” said the boatman, somewhat mollified. “Enough talking. I’ll take the kids over. It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”
“The kids?” Belladonna turned and looked at her parents.
“We can’t come,” said her mother, smiling softly. “The Dead aren’t permitted to cross the waters of Grendelmere.”
“But … I thought she was the ruler of the Dead,” said Steve. “You said she was immortal.”
“She is old,” explained Grandpa Johnson. “Older than anyone who has ever lived. Older than anything that has ever lived. She has been here, in that house on this lake, since the dawn of time itself.”
“But she doesn’t rule?”
“Not really. She has seen more, felt more, done more than anyone else. They say that nothing happens that hasn’t happened before, so she always knows what to do.”
“But you can’t speak to her?” said Steve skeptically.
“No. But sometimes she comes to us.”
“Well, that’s just stupid. I mean, it’s like that staff room rule.”
“Staff room rule?”
“Yeah. We can go to the staff room, but we’re not allowed to knock on the door. We’re supposed to wait until a teacher comes out or goes in and then we can say who we want to see. You could end up standing there all through lunch; it’s the most stupid rule ever.”
“I’m guessing you don’t just stand there?” said Mr. Johnson, who was really starting to like Steve.
“No, I don’t. I knock on the door. They’re just teachers.”
“Look,” said the boatman, “are you going to the House of Ashes or not?”
“Yes, we are,” said Belladonna.
“Right. Follow me.”
He stomped off to the boat and jumped in. Belladonna was sure he’d go right through the bottom of it, but it just bobbed about a little more.
“Come on!” he yelled. “Move it along! It’s safe!”
Belladonna turned to her parents and her grandfather and hugged each in turn.
“I wish you were coming,” she whispered.
“You’ll be fine,” said her Dad.
“But what if—”
“Don’t worry,” said her mother. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
Belladonna smiled and turned to Elsie, who held out a hand and shook Belladonna’s and then Steve’s firmly.
“Good luck,” she said. “I wish I could go too. It looks really scary. Should be topping fun!”
They turned and made their way along the rotting dock to the small boat.
“Okay,” said Hank, “ladies first.”
He held out a massive hand and helped Belladonna into the boat. To her surprise, it felt perfectly sturdy once she was in it. She glanced around to see if anything had changed, but it looked just as rickety. Steve clambered in and sat next to her while Hank did some stretches with his arms and shoulders as if he were about to compete in some sort of athletic event.
“Ready?”
Belladonna nodded, and Hank set the oars into the rowlocks and pushed away. The boat bobbed against the piers for a moment befor
e he heaved it to port and hauled the oars back. The small vessel lurched forward with surprising force, leaving a bubbling wake.
Belladonna waved to Elsie and her family and watched the shore until she could no longer make them out.
“You know what I’m going to do?” said Steve matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“When I see this Queen of the Abyss character, I’m going to ask her where she was last October. I mean if she’s so old and powerful and clever, how could Ashe have practically destroyed everything?”
“That’s a good point, kid,” said Hank. “You might want to phrase it a bit more polite, though. She sprinkles kids like you on her cereal for breakfast.”
“What?”
“Just so y’know.”
Hank winked at Belladonna, who grinned and turned away from the receding shore to look forward over the prow of the boat toward the looming black silhouette of the citadel on the island’s shore. It looked like there was quite a bit of open ground between the shore and the great wall around the palace, but from that point the fortress thrust skyward, with palisade upon palisade punctuated by towers, spires, and flying buttresses. It was impossible to make out any detail, however. The House of Ashes seemed to absorb what little light there was and stand stark on the skyline like a shadow.
“Here’s the thing,” said Hank suddenly.
“What?”
“You need to know this. There are seven gates between here and the Queen of the Abyss. Each one has a guardian. You gotta give each of them a gift.”
“A gift?” said Steve. “Seven gifts?”
“Well, offerings, really. You’ll get them all back. And they don’t have to be anything big. Not wrapped or anything. Pencils are fine. Well, so I’ve been told. I’ve never actually been in there myself, you understand.”
The boat was halfway to the island now and Belladonna was starting to feel a little apprehensive. Gifts. The guardians would want gifts. She started to mentally list all the things she had in her backpack. Were there seven? Why hadn’t he mentioned this before they left her Mum and Dad? They could’ve brought more stuff with them.
She heard Steve coughing at the back of the boat and saw a faint wisp of smoke curl away.
“Are you alright?” asked Hank.
“Fine. A bit of a sore throat. I might be getting a cold.”
Yes, thought Belladonna, or you might be allergic to dragon milk.
The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that drinking the dragon milk had been a really bad idea. And it wasn’t just that Steve had drunk it, it was that she hadn’t tried hard enough to stop him. And after all that stuff with the Night Ravens!
“Hank…”
“That’s my name.”
“What do you know about the Empress of the Dark Spaces?”
“Not much. Before my time.”
“Yes,” said Belladonna, “but empresses are more important than queens, aren’t they? Did the Empress once rule over the Land of the Dead? Or did she rule over some of the other worlds?”
“She did not.”
“But—”
“Look, alls I know is that she was nobody. Nothing. At least to start with. Professor Gadge up at the Panoptic Library says she was an aberration. I don’t know much about that, or where she came from, but the prof said she didn’t give herself the title until she heard where she was going to be exiled. Nice guy, the prof. Got me this gig.… Empress! As if!”
“Well, then why is everyone so scared of her?” asked Steve.
“You don’t need some old-fashioned title to be scary. Plenty of people all through time have been plenty scary without so much as a ‘sir’ or ‘duchess’ between ’em.”
“Yes, but—”
“Right,” said Hank cheerfully, as the boat knocked gently against the dock on the island, “stay where you are.”
He jumped out of the boat and tied it to the dock before reaching a hand down to Belladonna and helping her out. Steve scrambled out behind her and for a moment they all stood awkwardly.
“Thank you,” said Belladonna.
“Yeah, well, you guys be careful. You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard about this place.”
“You’ve brought other people over before, though, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. A few, like I said.”
“How many…” Steve hesitated, then continued: “How many have you taken on the return journey? Back to the shore?”
“Not a single one,” said Hank, smiling. And with that he stepped back into the boat, untied it, and pushed away with one of the oars. “So long!”
They watched him as the ramshackle boat eased through the black sludgy waters of Grendelmere and back to the far shore.
“I wonder what happens if you fall in?” mused Steve.
“Nothing good,” said Belladonna as a bubble appeared on the surface, expanded slowly, and then burst with a thick pop. “Come on.”
They turned and walked across the open ground toward the House of Ashes. The walls were dark gray and massive, streaked with the accumulated dirt of centuries and punctuated every hundred meters or so by sturdy, crenellated towers. At first it looked as if there was no way in, but then Belladonna realized that what she had first thought was a shadow cast by one of the towers was actually an open gateway.
“It’s that way, I think,” she said, nodding toward the gap.
“Great,” said Steve grimly. “It looks like a missing tooth.”
Belladonna smiled—it really did.
“How old d’you think she’ll look?” mused Steve as they strode across the rock-strewn ground toward the gate.
“I’ve no idea,” said Belladonna. “Maybe she’ll be like the Sibyl—so old that there’s nothing left but her voice.”
“Huh. I reckon if you’re going to give yourself a title like Queen of the Abyss, you’re going to have to look properly scary.”
This was almost certainly true, thought Belladonna. The kings and queens they’d read about in History at school had all been real sticklers for the right combination of respect and awe from their subjects. Particularly Elizabeth I. Maybe the Queen of the Abyss would be like her. Belladonna admired Elizabeth I, but she had a feeling that she was almost certainly “properly scary” in real life.
“Who dares approach the realm of the Lady of Death?” boomed a voice just ahead of them.
There was no obvious speaker, so Belladonna and Steve walked on a bit further and saw that there was a fire burning in a great bronze brazier just to the side of the gate. Next to the fire was a small temple constructed not of marble but of some sort of black stone. Belladonna could just make out a white-robed figure inside.
“We need to see the Queen of the Abyss,” said Belladonna, peering into the darkness of the interior.
She was about to step inside, when there was a yelp.
“No! Stay where you are!” said the voice. “I’ll come out.”
There was a pause and a rustle of frantic activity inside the temple.
“That voice sounds familiar,” whispered Steve.
The guardian of the first gate emerged, irritated and pressing a mask onto her face.
“What’s the rush?” she said in a deep, feminine, and very familiar voice.
Belladonna stared, openmouthed. The guardian was tall, very tall, and wore a long robe of white that flowed with every movement, but it wasn’t her voice or stature that was striking. It was the snakes.
They writhed around her head, knotting and reknotting, slithering over her shoulders, tongues flicking in exploration and mouths occasionally gaping to show deadly venom-dripping fangs. On her face was a blank mask of white, with simple holes for eyes and mouth.
“Well?”
“We’re … that is … are you the gorgon?”
“A gorgon,” she corrected. “A. One of, well, not many, but a few. Well, three actually. I’m Euryale.”
Belladonna had the feeling that behind the mask was a face she
knew, but she couldn’t quite place the voice no matter how hard she tried.
“Hello,” she said, “I’m Belladonna. This is Steve.”
“And you want to see the Queen of the Abyss.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to find the Ninth Noble.”
“The noble?” said Euryale with a start that seriously alarmed the snakes, which went into a tongue-flicking frenzy.
“To stop the—”
“The Empress, I know. Has she found the Circle?”
“The what?”
“The stones, the standing stones? Has she found them?”
“I don’t … maybe…” stammered Belladonna, remembering her dream.
“Typical,” muttered Euryale, wringing her hands and glancing up at the walls of the citadel. “I told her not to choose someone so young, but did she listen to me? Noooo. And now look where we are.”
“Where?” asked Belladonna, suddenly hoping that perhaps they’d found someone who could actually tell them what was going on.
“What?”
“Where are we? And who did she choose? Me? Are you talking about me?”
Euryale looked at her like someone who didn’t realize she’d been speaking aloud. She shook her head sharply, making the snakes writhe and hiss in discomfort.
“Yes. No … It’s not for me to say.”
“Um … are we going to have to go through this with all seven guardians?” asked Steve, rolling his eyes. “Because if we are, then it’s going to take a really long time to save the Nine Worlds … again.”
Euryale spun around and glared at him. “You are a very annoying boy,” she hissed.
“I know,” said Steve, smiling. “Everyone says so.”
The gorgon continued staring at him, and Belladonna began to get the uneasy feeling that she was considering removing her mask, but she turned to Belladonna instead.
“Do you have a gift?”
“Yes,” said Steve, reaching into his bag and producing half a pencil and a ballpoint pen. “Here.”
Euryale’s mask was stark and plain, but her stunned contempt for the proffered gift came through loud and clear.
“What,” she said slowly, “is that?”
“It’s a gift. Hank said that—”
The Midnight Gate Page 20