by Joshua Khan
Mary hesitated, and Lily could read the worry in the old woman’s creased brow. “Child, no good can come from digging up the past.”
“Who was she?” asked Lily.
Mary’s shoulders sank. “Is that why you’re here? To find out about her?”
That was an odd question. “No. I came to search the jewel spider cave. They’re back.”
“Back? How?”
“A sorcerer’s behind it—a renegade from House Typhoon, we think. They’ve been raiding villages all over Gehenna, and beyond. They’re using the jewel spiders to capture people and put them to sleep. We lost Gabriel to them.”
Mary stared in shock. “Gabriel Solar? What was he doing back here in Gehenna? Don’t tell me the wedding’s back on?”
Lily laughed. “No. He was fleeing the war between Lumina and the Sultanate. It’s going badly for his father, so he sought refuge in Castle Gloom.”
Lily drew out the letter she’d found at the abandoned house and carefully opened it. She also took out the jewelry that had been in the chest with it. The silver and black pearls shone in the candlelight. “Tell me about the ghost.”
Mary plucked nervously at the edge of her apron. She sat and poured herself a cup. “You might as well hear it from me.” She tilted her head toward the door. “The ghost you met was a revenant. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes. A spirit driven by revenge. Something terrible happened to her, didn’t it? Something terrible and unjust?”
Mary nodded. “There was a jewel spider infestation in Gehenna, twenty years ago. They were tracked here, to a cave. Someone got it in his head that this woman, a newcomer, was responsible. You know what people are like. Ready to blame their misfortune on strangers. Called her a witch. Put her on trial.”
Lily stopped her. “They say Charon was responsible.”
Mary replied angrily, “They were right. He made sure she was found guilty and she was burned.”
“That’s horrible.”
Mary gulped down the tea. “Then, about three months ago, things started happening. It’s the ghost. She’s set alight a few houses already. One was owned by the judge at her sham of a trial. The other two, the families of those who served in the jury.”
“And she attacked me because of Charon.”
Mary looked at her with pity in her eyes. “Lily, I wish things were different. I tried to appease her with roses, but her rage is too great.”
Lily felt a chill spread through her body. “And so she’ll come after me.” There were ways to stop revenants with magic, but the instructions were back on the shelves of the Shadow Library. She did know this much, however: “She suffered an injustice, one terrible enough to bring her back from the Twilight. If I can somehow rectify that, she’ll find peace, and go.”
“You’re not going to let this matter rest; I can see it in your eyes,” Mary said, then sighed. “You’re so like your father.” She gathered the fragile letter in her palm. “All right. Let me tell you about Iblis and Branwen.”
“She was beautiful, was Branwen, beautiful and clever and generous and all things a man could wish for, except one: she was poor. Her father was a tenant farmer, no land of his own, merely a worker in the field. Like his father before him, and so on. Times I wish she’d never left that farm, but she wanted better for herself and came, like so many ambitious folk, to Castle Gloom. And I gave her a job.”
“When was this?” asked Thorn.
“About twenty-five years ago. Iblis was a young man, not quite twenty, and Charon Shadow, Lily’s grandfather, ruled Gehenna.” Mary cleared her throat. “Anyway, Iblis and Branwen saw each other. As young folk do. They became close.”
Lily’s mouth hardened. “Father never spoke of her.”
Mary smiled. “And why should he have? He loved your mother. But this was before he’d even met Salome.” She brushed her fingertips over the letter. “He taught Branwen to read and write. To count and to dance and to ride. They would picnic in Spindlewood on any warm day. Gone from breakfast to dusk. I didn’t mind. Iblis was happy, and if you’d known his father, you’d have known that was a rare thing indeed.”
Lily bristled. No one should make her father happy but her mother. “So he gave her this jewelry, I suppose?”
“Yes. Among many other gifts. He was the young lord of Gehenna and already a masterful sorcerer. People had high hopes. Things…moved swiftly.”
Thorn waved his knife as he ate. “This is real good. Better than what—”
“Will you shut up, Thorn?” Lily demanded. Thorn glowered, then added more pie to his ever-ready mouth. She turned back to Mary. “Moved swiftly between my father and…this woman?”
“You never knew her, Lily. They say women shouldn’t have magic, but they don’t understand—we all have it. Oh, maybe not in ways that men count, but it’s magic nonetheless. Branwen, she could beguile a man. Her eyes were as dark as the devil’s promise, and when she smiled, it made you dream of wonderful things.”
“I get it, Mary. You’re saying my father lost his heart to her.”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
They sat in silence. Lily shifted on her chair, staring at the flames. “What happened then?”
“War. The trolls had been troubling our northern domains, so Charon sent Iblis. He was gone a year, and when he came back, Branwen had vanished. He searched, but then soon after met your mother and…well, you know the rest.”
“Why did she leave?” asked Lily. “Maybe my father had got bored with her.”
Mary’s gaze darkened. “She had to leave. She was afraid of Charon and what he might do to her.”
“Why would Charon care about a servant?” Lily asked.
“Charon had plans for your father. By then he knew there was no magic in your uncle Pan, so Iblis would inherit Gehenna. He would not want the fate of his country to be…upset over a serving girl.” Mary frowned, unwilling to explain further. She gave a little shrug. “But your father met Salome. Life moved on.”
Thorn tapped his plate with a fork. “End of story.”
“Not quite, unfortunately.” Mary wiped her face. “Branwen had been gone a few years; I’d almost forgotten all about her. Then I heard that a woman had been burned at the stake in Malice. There’d been a plague of jewel spiders, and Branwen had been condemned for causing it. Your grandfather was behind the investigation; I know that now, but at the time, he used others to carry out his dirty work.”
“Was my father aware?”
“No. Charon had sent him far away, on another one of his missions. His timing was deliberate, I suspect.”
Lily stood up. She knew all she needed to know. “And now this ghost blames us, the Shadows, for her death.” It was getting late, and she wanted to get back. She didn’t need to hear any more.
“Lily…” started Mary.
Lily’s heart was beating fast and she felt dizzy, but why? Her father had…known another woman before her mother. So what? It was normal.
Mary eased Lily back down into her chair. “I’ve started this tale and you must—you will—hear me out.”
Despite her dread, Lily nodded.
Mary sat and folded the remnants of the necklace back into its cloth. “They said she’d been seen with the jewel spiders, and that was true. A few had been found at her home. Not live ones, just broken pieces, something a child might collect to play with.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “A child?”
Mary nodded, her face a grim mask. She took Lily’s hand. “Yes. Branwen had a young son. That’s why she left Castle Gloom in the first place. Charon wasn’t after her; he was after the boy.”
Lily stared at her old nanny, her own blood growing colder by the moment. “What happened to him?”
“Charon’s men found him,” said Mary, her voice trembling. “They threw him on the fire.”
“By Herne, that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard,” said Thorn. “So he died, too?”
Lily couldn’t speak. She fe
lt sick, and ashamed. How could she share the same blood with someone so evil?
“The boy was burned, and burned badly,” said Mary. “But he survived, somehow. The townsfolk reckoned it was due to damp wood not burning properly, but the pyre consumed his mother sure enough. He was a poor, broken thing, skin black and peeling, half his body wrecked beyond repair. I stayed by his side, tending to him, thinking any day would be his last, yet he hung on. Despite everything, he would not give in. You could see it in his eyes, the will to live.”
Thorn spoke hesitantly. “What color were his eyes?”
“Gray. Gray like storm clouds in winter. Gray like his father’s,” said Mary. “Gray like yours, Lily.”
Lily pulled free. “No. That’s impossible.” She needed to leave before Mary said anything else. She needed to leave now. She stumbled to the door, but she couldn’t get it to open. Why wouldn’t it open?
Mary turned her around. “Branwen and Iblis had a child, Lily. That’s why she left. Iblis never knew, but I’m telling you. You have a brother.”
I have a brother.
A half brother, to be exact, but that didn’t seem remotely important right now.
The thought circled around and around in Lily’s mind as she sat silently in Mary’s cottage, listening to the rest of her tale.
“It wasn’t damp wood that saved the child,” said Mary. “It was magic. And I suspect he was the one who had awoken the jewel spiders. Just a little child playing with some shiny toys, not realizing what they were. Even though he was just four, his magical powers were already manifesting—he was Iblis’s son after all.”
Lily forced herself to look into Mary’s eyes. How many other secrets was her old nanny keeping? “How long did you take care of him?”
“A few weeks. He started moving again but didn’t speak. I feared the fire and smoke had destroyed his voice. Then, one morning, I found him drawing. He’d taken some charcoal from the fireplace and covered the floor and walls with cobweb patterns. When I asked him what he was doing, he looked at me with an intensity no child should have.” Mary shivered. “‘I am weaving.’ That’s what he said, in a broken, croaking voice. I didn’t know what name his mother had given him, so I called him Weaver. He responded to it, so it seemed good enough.”
Thorn had stopped eating, enthralled by Mary’s tale. “What happened when he got better?”
“I managed to find Branwen’s parents,” said Mary. “Told them the news of her death. They couldn’t look after the boy themselves; they were afraid if Charon found out he was still alive, he’d come after them, and they were right to be afraid. But there was another relative, a sailor or merchant or something, I can’t remember which. He took Weaver on his ship, bound for Lu Feng, which is as far away from Gehenna as is possible.”
The rest was easy to guess. There was no hiding Weaver’s magical potential, so he was recruited by House Typhoon and taught the magic that suited him best, which was all things of darkness. Then they gave him a position within their bureaucracy.
When House Typhoon was overthrown by the Feathered Council, all their sorcerers had abandoned them, stealing what they could. In Weaver’s case, that had meant a cloud ship.
How long had it taken him to sail back to Gehenna? Kidnapping people all the way, binding them to his webs?
It should have been obvious, from early on, who they faced. Sleep was the brother of death, and the Shadows were the masters of death.
I have a brother.
And he wants to destroy me.
That was the truth of it. After all these years, he’d come back for his revenge. For the death of his mother, for his own mutilation, for his birthright.
In another world, at another time, perhaps in a better, more just world, he would be ruler of Gehenna.
And I would never have existed.
What would have it been like if her father had married his first love instead of his true love?
Lord Iblis and Lady Branwen Shadow.
Lily squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, but she couldn’t block out the image of Weaver. His burned body, his twisted limbs, and the fierce desire in his eyes, those familiar gray eyes.
Why hadn’t she realized, the moment she’d first seen him? It was obvious, despite the deformities, that he was her father’s son.
My father has another son, and I have a brother.
Pie unfinished, Thorn pushed the plate away. “Now we know about Weaver, what are we gonna do?”
Thorn on one side, Mary on the other, just like the old days. Lily was glad to have them both. They were very different from each other, but they both provided her with balance and perspective. They stood up for what they knew was right. True, it got them in plenty of trouble—Mary had almost started a war, and Thorn seemed to attract enemies like a dog did fleas—but Lily admired them all the same. They didn’t shy away from a challenge, and neither would she.
Lily stood up. “We’re going to set things right. And start by speaking to Branwen.”
“Branwen? Can you hear me?” Lily stood at the mouth of the cave of jewel spiders, just an hour later, clutching a bunch of black roses. “I’ve come to talk.”
The others, Mary, Dott, and Thorn, stood a way back, all looking on anxiously. Thorn held two buckets of water, just in case.
Lily made her way back into the cavern. It was dark, misty, and cold.
“Branwen?”
No answer.
Lily carefully unwrapped the twisted silver bracelet and put it down on the ground. “I have something for you. A gift from my father. Do you remember it?”
Lily gasped as fire flickered in the corner. The flame swelled into an unsteady shape, but Lily recognized her. The revenant. The temperature began to rise, and Lily glanced toward the exit.
She steadied herself. She couldn’t run away.
The revenant approached the piece of jewelry and crouched down. Her fiery fingers brushed the metal, ever so slightly, and the silver bubbled and melted into a puddle.
If she can do that to metal, what could she do to me?
“I know what happened, Branwen,” said Lily, her voice trembling. “I am sorry, so sorry. I want to make it right.”
The revenant looked up at her with burning eyes. The flames thickened, and the heat intensified.
“Your son is here in Gehenna.” There was no way to retreat; the revenant was between her and the exit now. The smoke was already thick above her head. “I want to help him. He deserves justice. I know he does.”
“Lily! Get out of there!” yelled Thorn. He had crept halfway in and held one of the buckets ready.
“Stay back! I’m talking!” Lily faced the revenant even as the fire grew brighter and hotter. “Please, Branwen. I will make it right. Just give me time, that’s all I ask. Do not harm anyone else, and your son will have what he deserves. I promise.” Lily reached out. “He is my brother.”
The fiery spirit held out her own hand, and Lily gritted her teeth, preparing for the pain. But she couldn’t falter, couldn’t let the spirit of Branwen think she was telling her anything but the truth. Their fingers were inches apart, and her skin tingled.
Lily trembled as her hand grew hotter. “He is a Shadow, and we look after our own.”
“Lily…” Thorn edged closer.
The revenant vanished. All that remained was the molten lump of silver.
Thorn ran up to her, and Lily shoved her hand into the bucket. She sighed as the cold water began to reduce the pain. “I think she believed me, Thorn.”
He looked over both shoulders. “That was a big promise to make, Lily.”
They left the cave. Mary inspected her fingers, tutting loudly. “It’s clear to me you can’t look after yourself.”
Despite the pain, Lily smiled. “You’re probably right.”
Mary huffed. “There’s no ‘probably’ about it. I’m surprised Castle Gloom’s still standing. I heard half of it collapsed not a week ago.”
Lily and Thorn lock
ed eyes. Thorn winked.
“I suppose I’d better come back, just to make sure the steward’s doing a good job and Cook hasn’t emptied the treasury by overpaying the farmers. And the zombies…” Mary put her fists on her hips. “They’ll need managing, too.”
Lily kissed her.
Thorn didn’t. He was frowning. “You hear that?”
Lily paused. She couldn’t hear much more than the sound of her beating heart. “What?”
“I heard it last night. I thought it was thunder, but it ain’t.”
There was a sound, echoing down from the northeast, from the slopes of the distant Troll-Teeth. Lily peered toward the black silhouette of the mountains. “Can you see lights?”
“Yeah, I can. Must be campfires.”
Then Dott clapped. “I know the big noise. It not thunder, little T’orn! It feet stompin’!”
“She’s right,” said Lily. “The troll army is on the march.”
They needed to get back to Castle Gloom fast. Lily put Mary on the mule led by Dott, and borrowed horses from the innkeeper for herself and Thorn. She pushed them hard back south through Bone-Tree Forest. Thorn took them off the main trail and, thanks to his uncanny knack for navigating the woods, had them through the forest within the day.
It was Lily who spotted the familiar black spike of the Needle first. “We’re almost home.”
“Hold on, Lily.” Thorn reined in his mount. He pointed off to the southeast. “Who are they?”
A line of people trudged through the snow, a way off. They carried their belongings on their backs or on skinny donkeys. One or two had converted their plow horses into wagon pullers and were shouldering the wheels out of deep ruts. They moved in a thin, snaking line, all heading toward the castle.
What was going on? She needed to find out. “Come on.”
“What about us?” asked Mary, shifting awkwardly on the mule.
“Catch up.”
With that, the two of them spurred their horses into a canter, and then, when the trees had cleared, a gallop, eating up the last few miles between the boundary of Bone-Tree Forest and the walls of Castle Gloom.