The City Under the Mountain (The Seven Signs Book 4)

by D. W. Hawkins

  “My mind.” The threads tightened around her chest.

  “Use it,” D’Jenn said. “My Kai is useless here, Bethany. I couldn’t cut you loose if I had all the power in the world.”

  Another noise echoed from outside the room. Bethany could feel vibrations through the metallic threads on her skin, as if the web was resonating with the distant thunder. She forced her heart to stillness as the tendrils covered her eyelids. If her body could have shivered, the whole web would be shaking with her discomfort.

  Bethany forced the emotions to the deepest pits of her mind.

  “That noise is getting closer,” she said, her voice steadier than her heart. “What happens when it gets here?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” D’Jenn’s voice answered. “Focus.”

  “You won’t leave?” The words came out tinged with fear. Bethany felt stupid for saying them, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Not without you,” came the reply. “Best fall to task, little one. That thing will be here soon.”

  Bethany took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm the storm in her mind. She reached for her Kai and was surprised to feel it singing at her core, just as it always was. There was nothing interfering with her magic, no resonance with the Nar’doroc’s song—it answered her call with ease.

  She made you forget about it. It’s been here the whole time, you just couldn’t feel it. Like you couldn’t remember D’Jenn’s face.

  Bethany let her senses creep into the burning room. The silver web was a bright, twisted mass of light in her mind, with endless threads wound into ever more complicated patterns. Bethany tried to follow a thread with her mind, focusing on the way it was woven into the whole. Her attention broke before she could keep track of its pattern.

  She picked another, following its direction outward from her body instead of the opposite direction. The effort was difficult, but she managed to track its path to the ceiling. It told her nothing. If there were anchors, as D’Jenn said, she could search for years before she found one.

  “It’s complicated.” Bethany’s voice was calm. “I can’t make sense of it.”

  “How deep did you look?”

  Some part of Bethany bristled at the comment, but her voice came out just as calm as before.

  “I followed a single thread all the way to the ceiling. Picking through each one will take too long. Right?”

  There was a pause. “You have a good point. Perhaps you should change your perspective.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Look from a different angle.” There was an irritated edge in his voice. The thunder boomed again from the darkness, closer than before. “If a single thread doesn’t reveal anything—”

  “Look at the whole web,” she finished, realization hitting her as he spoke the words.

  “Sharp girl,” he said. “Time’s running through the glass, Bethany. Best be a sharp, quick girl.”

  She would have replied if the web wasn’t squeezing her so tight.

  Bethany concentrated, sending her senses outward once again. This time, instead of focusing on a single thread, she tried to picture the entire structure of the web. Her Kai picked it out against the backdrop of the flames, but it took her a moment to construct the image in her mind. Parts of it were blurry, and she couldn’t envision the detail with much clarity.

  She started to redouble her efforts at concentration but paused. Perhaps a lack of detail was what she needed. Getting lost in the twists and turns of the individual threads had been her earlier mistake.

  The thunder boomed outside the door and the filaments shifted against her skin.

  “Ignore that,” D’Jenn said. “Focus.”

  Bethany solidified the image of the web in her mind. It looked like a cloudy essence shot through with tiny, glowing threads of light. She rotated the phantom image in her consciousness and noticed something when she did.

  The web was nothing like a spider’s web. It wasn’t anchored to the wall by the tension in its threads and hadn’t the net-like structure meant for catching flies. Instead, the silver web was more complex toward the center.

  It’s like the web grew out from the middle instead of being built across the room.

  Bethany followed the pattern to its source—her hands. The threads had grown like roots from the center of her palms, encased her like a caterpillar in a cocoon, then trapped her in the room. Something tickled at Bethany’s mind as she made the realization.

  She could feel something in her grip, something beyond the warm threads of metal. Against the center of her palms—clutched tight to her chest—was something soft. Bethany focused her senses on the object and her heart gave an involuntary twinge.

  Crushed in her grip was the little doll with gemstone eyes.

  The filmy strands of metal were coming from the doll, pierced through her woolen skin like they had grown from her chest. The threads had wrapped around Bethany’s fingers, her arms, her shoulders, and her whole body until she’d been trapped. The doll was the source of the whole mess.

  The web shifted against Bethany’s skin, squeezing tighter, as her attention fell upon the doll. A shudder ran through the fabric of its tendrils, as if it could sense the pressure of her mind. Bethany suppressed the disgust welling up in her stomach—the way it clung to her reminded her of a tick.

  Is it clinging to you, though? You’re the one holding the doll.

  Bethany’s concentration rocked. She made to loosen her grip on the little woolen toy, but her heart gave another twinge of pain, and she stopped herself. The thought of letting go was terrifying. Memories flashed through her mind—the little room, the singing voice, the smell of spiced bread. Tears filled Bethany’s eyes.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t let it go.”

  The web drew her deeper into its embrace.

  “Let what go, little one?” D’Jenn’s voice was tense, and it came to her as if he was looking in another direction. “What do you mean?”

  She wanted to explain, but her throat closed around the words. “I just can’t.”

  The thunder rumbled again, this time vibrating the walls of the room.

  “Whatever it is, Bethany, time is running out. None of this is real, little one. It’s all in your mind.”

  “It was real.” She sobbed against the filaments squeezing her ribs. “I know it was real. It was.”

  “But not anymore.” D’Jenn’s voice rose over the noise of blowing wind. “Worry about now, Bethany! What’s real right now!”

  “I can’t let it go.”

  “You must!”

  “It’s all I have left.” Bethany hadn’t meant to say those words, but there they were. She could feel their truth like a stone sitting in her chest. “If I let it go, it’s gone forever. I’m gone forever.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, child!” The noise of the wind rose and D’Jenn screamed over it. “If you don’t let go, we’re both gone forever!”

  She knew D’Jenn was right. His words only added weight to the stone in her chest, as if the physical burden of so much truth was too much to hold inside. Bethany made another attempt to let go of the doll, but again her heart quailed in response, and her grip tightened further.

  The heat in the room grew painful as her concentration slipped. Silvery fingers crept into the nooks of her ears, reaching inward. Bethany squeezed her eyes tight against the sensation, recoiling as best she could, but there was no way to escape. The web tightened until she could no longer breathe.

  Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as the reaching filaments blocked her hearing. Her lungs surged and her head started to hurt. Spots appeared against the darkness of her eyelids.

  Bethany redoubled her concentration, focusing on the feeling of the doll in her hands. She moved with caution, with deliberate intent, and loosened one of her fingers. Her heart broke as she pulled it free. Bethany tried to absorb the feeling, to let it flow through her.

  She loosened another finger.r />
  The web moved in response. She was able to suck in a breath of stifling air as the pressure on her chest loosened. Memories intruded on her focus, but Bethany pushed them to the depths of her mind.

  Her left hand loosened its grip on the doll, which made the whole structure of the web shudder. Pushing against the sudden loss of pressure, Bethany let go with her left hand and jerked her arm free of the web. Her hearing came back as the tendrils retreated from her ears, bringing the sound of a gale and excited screams from D’Jenn.

  “Keep going! You’re doing it!”

  Bethany tore at the webbing around her right hand, pulling threads free like a seamstress working a knot. The web resisted, but Bethany kept tearing at its filaments. With each thread, her right hand loosened from the doll.

  With a surge of strength, Bethany pushed the doll away from her chest.

  The web released its tension and Bethany dropped to the floor. The doll—still clutched in her right hand—was the center of a writhing mass of silvery tentacles. She sucked in a breath and held it away from her face.

  “Get rid of it, Bethany!” D’Jenn stepped into the room as the web withdrew into the doll. “We have to leave!”

  Bethany took one last look at the doll. Its little face was frowning, gemstone eyes reflecting the flames. There were tears coming from the stones, leaking down the doll’s cheeks.

  “Bethany!”

  When Bethany looked up, the Silver Lady stood in the doorway. She was wreathed with angry fire, regarding D’Jenn with a look of hatred so deep it made Bethany’s blood turn cold, despite the roaring inferno around them. D’Jenn squared off with the woman, placing himself in her path.

  “Do what you need to, little one.” The burning globe of light in D’Jenn’s hand grew brighter. “Hurry!”

  The Silver Lady took a step into the room, flames rushing before her. D’Jenn raised his hand to summon his magic, but nothing happened. The fire met his clothing and climbed up his body. The Silver Lady smiled at his screams.

  Bethany closed her eyes and summoned every bit of strength she had left. Memories again flashed through her mind, and she savored them for the smallest moment. She memorized the sound of that distant, singing voice, burned its signature forever on her heart.

  With one last cry of pain, Bethany threw the doll into the flames.

  ***

  D’Jenn opened his eyes.

  His head itched from the unraveling of Bethany’s dream-vision. Piercing the Nar’doroc’s song with the Source’s power had been tricky, but he had found Bethany’s core at the center of the storm. The burning apartment had felt so real, so vivid. D’Jenn glanced to the orb in his hand and stood.

  Time to find out if it worked.

  The bridge was far removed from the killing field below, but its height granted D’Jenn the perspective to see the scope of the damage Bethany and the Nar’doroc had wrought. Great rents were torn through the ground, with orange firelight shining through the cracks. Smoke filled the cavern, assaulting D’Jenn’s nose with the acrid smell of burning minerals.

  D’Jenn summoned his magic, got a running start, and jumped into the smoking air.

  His clothing fluttered, making a wild flapping noise as he flew. With more preparation to use the floating spell and magical wind, he sailed in a graceful arc over Bethany’s killing field instead of tumbling on an unknown trajectory. Maintaining his direction required tight control of both the power in the floating spell and the angle of the breeze.

  D’Jenn’s stomach tightened with excitement. Part of him wanted to hoot like a child jumping into a lake, to enjoy the thrill of moving through the air at such speed. The effort of maintaining the two spells left no room for such things. Even with the Source clutched in his hand, D’Jenn was tiring. Managing the flow of power from the ancient stone was becoming difficult.

  The ground appeared through wafting clouds of smoke and floating embers. The glow of burning fires shone through the smoke. Scattered pools of magma peeked through the haze, which made D’Jenn’s stomach tighten. The last thing he wanted was to land in one of those.

  Dark, huddled forms moved through the shifting dust. Pained, fearful cries echoed from the murk, like the whelps of beaten dogs. The air stank like char and seared flesh.

  The ground rushed toward D’Jenn. He finessed the two spells to direct his fall and created a cushion of dense air to slow himself down. His knees gave a sharp sting of pain as he landed, but D’Jenn managed to keep his balance. The sensation of stone under his feet made his head lurch, but the vertigo passed as quickly as it came.

  The field was choked with dead Garthorin.

  Bodies lay in smoking piles like debris scattered by a flood. D’Jenn had seen the destruction from a distance. Its aftermath, though much quieter, was just as chilling.

  “Bethany!” D’Jenn spun in a circle, peering through the haze.

  A moment passed while something rumbled in the distance.

  “Here!” The sound of dry coughing floated somewhere in the dust. “I’m here!”

  D’Jenn turned, searching. Dust floated through the cloying air, blocking his sight. Using the magic in the Source, he summoned another breeze to clear the field.

  The cloud of dust blew into the city, revealing the scope of the destruction. The ground had been torn asunder, and the floor of the cavern had rippled like the surface of a pond. Pools of cooling lava dotted the shattered landscape, trailing tendrils of black smoke into the breeze. Piles of dead Garthorin littered the ground like drowned ants.

  Bethany crouched in the center of the field, occupying the only smooth patch of stone. The Nar’doroc clung to her shoulders, slithering over her body like a living snake. She looked around the cavern and met D’Jenn’s gaze. The orange light in her eyes was gone.

  “Bethany!” came a call from the shadows.

  Dormael appeared with Allen and Shawna. He smiled and rushed to Bethany’s side, taking her face in his hands. D’Jenn saw them and raised a hand, eliciting a round of relieved looks. Shawna and Allen walked over to meet him.

  They were covered in gore.

  “We thought you were dead.” Allen smiled and took D’Jenn’s forearm, giving it a firm shake.

  “Not yet.” D’Jenn glanced in the direction of the city. “The odds are still good for it. That creature will be back any moment.”

  “Creature?” Shawna gave the city a fearful look.

  “The woman,” Dormael said, which drew a meaningful look from Bethany. “The Silver Lady.”

  “I trapped her in the city, but I doubt it will hold. We have to put that thing to sleep.”

  “I don’t know any lullabies for a vengeful spirit of magic.” Allen gestured at the blood splattered on his armor. “Maybe I could charm her with my good looks.”

  Shawna snorted. “She wasn’t impressed last time.”

  “She won’t sleep anymore.” Bethany shook her head. “I can feel it. I can control her a little, but she’s too strong now.”

  Dormael scowled at the yellow gem glowing on Bethany’s shoulder. “It’s the second piece.”

  “It’s not a piece anymore,” Bethany said. “It’s part of her now.”

  “We couldn’t part them if we tried.” D’Jenn sighed. “It took Indalvian years to figure it out, and even when he did, she survived the process. Even with the stone, I had trouble containing her.”

  “The stone?” Allen came forward and gestured at the Source. “Is that the—?”

  “The stone from the temple, aye.”

  “And you went back for it.”

  “I did.” D’Jenn nodded. “We’re all lucky I did.”

  Allen made to say something else, but a loud rumble drew everyone’s attention back to the city. There was a flash of light against the silhouettes of the ruins, followed by a loud boom. D’Jenn’s stomach dropped to his toes.

  “She’s coming.” D’Jenn turned back to his friends.

  “What can we do?” Dormael said. “We can’t de
stroy it. We can’t separate the pieces.”

  “What?” Allen drew a short sword from his belt. “Are we just going to give up and die?”

  “I—I can feel her.” Bethany put her hands to her head and clenched her eyes shut. “I don’t know if I can keep—”

  Flames erupted from Bethany’s shoulders, wrapping her in a sudden conflagration. Dormael screamed and went for her but was deterred by the heat of the fire. Allen stumbled back, a horrified expression on his face.

  The fire roared and intensified, but Bethany crouched, unburnt, at its center. She scowled at something unseen, reaching her hands back toward her shoulders. The Nar’doroc writhed and twisted over her body, but Bethany was oblivious to its movement. Her eyes—still her own rather than the glowing pits of light—turned upward.

  The woman stood behind Bethany, hands gripping Bethany’s shoulders. Her body was made of the same angry fire surrounding the girl. The woman raised her chin as she looked around, fixing each of D’Jenn’s companions with a righteous, gleeful stare. She moved, but before she could step away, Bethany’s hand gripped her wrist.

  The cavern floor shook as Bethany grabbed the flaming ghost. The flames around the two of them thrashed and eddied, forcing everyone to stumble farther away. The light from the fire was blinding.

  Bethany’s voice rose above the rumbling. She screamed a high, angry note. Bethany rose to her feet, hand clamped over the woman’s fiery wrist, and turned to face the creature at her back.

  A struggle ensued between them, though D’Jenn could see little of what was happening. Bethany clasped hands with the woman, as if they were a pair of brawlers having a contest of strength. Their eyes locked to one another as they threw their wills together.

  The noise in the ether was deafening. Bethany’s song blazed through the air, attacking the substance of the Nar’doroc’s power. The two essences fought one another like separate liquids in a bowl, rushing together in a whirling, shapeless frenzy.

  How is she resisting the artifact? In the past, the Nar’doroc’s power had cut through magic like a hot knife. Now Bethany’s power flung itself against the artifact’s, and somehow, pushed it back.