The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1)

by Blayde, Morgan

  “I will not be long, lass,” the elf prince promised. “This is the tomb of Ellyssia, our greatest warrior queen. She respects courage. Whatever you feel is a test from her. You must meet this challenge ... alone.” He hurried away.

  I sat on a small boulder, one of the few that broke the smooth expanse of floor, and riveted my eyes to the seal. Ellyssia was in there, dead yet waiting … for me?

  My heart raced. I put my hand over it and felt my locket. I opened it and dropped my eyes to Phillippe’s picture. The blue light made him seem strangely fey, as if I were seeing a stranger. I closed the locket and held it in my closed fist. I could not fail Phillippe more than I already had. I would not run from this test.

  One by one, the crystals along the wall dimmed. Several flickered out completely, a challenge to my resolve. Wagging shadows with red eyes leaked from around the seal. With an aching slowness, the wraiths rippled across the rough tunnel walls as if the air could not hold them. One flat shadow flowed close to where I sat, as if to merge with my own shadow on the wall. I wondered if my shadow were penetrated, would I feel it. Such things seemed possible here. Vastly unsettling, I closed my eyes. I endured.

  And something dreadful did seem to brush me in passing. A terrible coldness pierced.

  I comforted myself with words of faith. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death … I shall fear no evil…”

  Hah! Who was I deceiving? Terror crushed my voice to a broken whisper.

  “For Thou art with me…”

  A woman’s voice released a single word into my mind. Run.

  I opened my eyes wide.

  Total darkness enclosed me, as if light were an impossible dream now faded. Distant voices gibbered and echoed, then joined in a chorus of dark, cruel laughter. The fused sound washed over me, a wave of trepidation, draining away resolve. I slipped off the boulder, striking my knees painfully against the ground. That small distraction helped, making me real to myself. I answered the voice, lifting my head in futile defiance. “No. Strike me down if you must, but I will not leave!”

  Only the ember red eyes of the shadows were visible, demonic fireflies that swam through the darkness in synchronized pairs. Moth wings sliced my arms and face with razor kisses. I gasped from pain that lagged the cutting, like thunder trailing lightning.

  The voice came again. Flee, or you will surely die.

  I flailed my voice to greater strength. “Thy rod and they staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me…”

  The seal on the wall caught fire, burning with green, spectral flames. A woman’s head and shoulder pushed through the barrier. She was the fire. It clung to her translucent armor, rising up from deep within her icy core. Her eyes locked onto my face with a promise of destruction that made me believe I had only moments to live.

  I felt faintness hovering nearby as my pulse pounded, and had to swallow to get enough moisture to speak. “I have no way to fight you,” I said, “and I am very afraid, but I will not run. I need your help to save my son. Please, if you ever knew anything of pity...”

  Her face became a grinning skull—without mercy—as the rest of her body came out of the wall.

  Cold dread and hatred flared in me as I was reminded of the specter that had lured Phillippe onto the ice. Surely these spirits were not the same. I could not believe a one-time queen of Avalon would leap worlds to destroy an innocent. That belief anchored me against the threat I felt.

  I heard her steps advancing, a sudden proof of solidity. Her laugh pealed, distant and inhuman. The white metal sword in her hands drew my gaze. She shifted her grip on the hilt so the point could be driven downward.

  My gaze dropped to the picture in my cupped hand. I sighed my last words, but surprisingly, they were not for Phillippe, “Azrael, I will love you forever.”

  The specter hesitated; startled by the name I uttered, then came ever closer. Unspoken words insinuated themselves in my guttering thoughts: I am Kursa. Remember...

  My body was jarred. Her sword pierced my chest, sliced through my heart, and stilled its frenzied beat with an agony that paled even the wonder of receiving her true name as a dying gift. I collapsed, my hand an iron claw around my locket, refusing to release its burden.

  9. HUNTING PARTY

  Darkness filled my eyes. My heart scarcely seemed to beat—frozen and numb like ice in my chest. The rock under me was hard. A blanket had been tossed over me and a saddle served as a pillow. Great amazement at being alive burst across my mind, as my lungs drew slow, aching breaths. I had thought myself slain. Living was a surprise.

  The air stirred and I heard the whisper of cloth.

  “Amberyn?” the word left my lips, a frail fluttery thing that struggled to rise.

  “I am here, White Rose.”

  “My son?”

  “Here as well, along with Ty’hrall. Both have just had a trip to nature’s privy.”

  I tried to sit up, but a hand caught my shoulder and pushed me back. The elf’s eyes had to be a lot better than mine to see me moving.

  “Keep still,” he said. “All is well, but we must wait here ‘til morning. The trees are whispering of Dar’kyn skulking through the night, heading this way. Sleep if you can.”

  I heard him, but such danger seemed a little thing to me at that moment. “I failed. I could not keep fear from my heart … so she struck me down.”

  Amberyn stretched out beside me to share body heat. An herbal scent emanated from him that I could not place. Apple ... mint...?

  You did not fail completely,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Was he only being kind?

  “I would show you what now lies by the wall, under the seal, but I do not want to risk a light. Ellyssia left you a present.”

  “She did? What?” I remembered a word that appeared in my thoughts as she struck me down. Her true name? Was that her gift as well?

  “A hunter’s horn and dueling dagger,” Amberyn said. “You would have done better with Firestorm, the sword of legend—”

  I smiled wryly. “Oh, she gave me that as well, point first. I did not expect to awaken ever again.”

  “Truly? You have no mark upon you.”

  Yes, he could definitely see in this darkness. My hand crept to my heart, feeling for injury. There was none. My fingers searched for other wounds and felt only smoothness along my arm. The cuts made by the red-eyed shadows were gone. I could well believe it all a nightmare if not for the lingering cold sunk deep in my chest. I doubted my heart would ever be warm again.

  I continued the discussion to distract myself from discomfort. “I do not understand how I was struck down, but left without a wound.”

  “In a time before my people came to Avalon, Ellyssia’s armor and sword were lightened with an infusion of grace after being forged in the fire of a new-born star. No darkness can withstand her weapon’s touch.” Amberyn paused. “But your heart seeks the Light, so her mystic blade left no lasting wound.”

  I pried at his comments. “I thought the elves had always been here.”

  “No, we are the thrice-born.” His voice assumed a rich formality, as if he were intoning an often repeated tale. “When the stars were young, we walked their paths. Then war came to heaven. Most celestials chose one side or another, darkness or Light, but there were some that would not lift sword in that conflict. At the end of the great battle, the uncommitted were stripped of immortality, made male and female, and cast to Avalon.”

  I gasped at his revelation. “Elves were once angels?”

  “Aye, lass, first angels, then little different from humans. Made mortal, we could not bear to age and lose our beauty. We could not bear to be swallowed by darkness in the cold embrace of the grave.”

  “So what did you do?” my voice was the thinnest whisper. I was a child, hearing a tale of adventure, spell-bound by his words.

  He laughed without mirth. “Why, we cheated Death. We became elves, forging a covenant with the forest, rootin
g our souls to it. Thereafter, as we died, our spirits were reborn in the trees until the forest became far more than ever intended. That is why an elf’s death is called the fourth birth.”

  I yawned hugely, knowing that sleep would come soon, but I wanted a few more answers first. I prompted Amberyn, “Death could not have taken that very well.”

  “Oh, not at all. His dark servants came to tear the souls out of the forest and take them to the World of the Dead. But my ancestors defended the great forests, weaving a communal spell that forever shut out the eternal bridge from landing upon Avalon, barring even the reavers from coming here. That is why, when I go to the Gamesman’s city, I must travel by way of another world such as Earth.”

  I shunted my thoughts from such dazzling admissions, and brought the conversation back to the ghost. “I would think Ellyssia’s spirit would have been claimed by the forest. Does she linger here only to guard ancient armor and her star-forged sword?”

  “She was one of the Celestials that refused to fight, but before the battle ended, she repented and returned to duty, lending her sword to heaven’s cause. Though forgiven for wavering, she chose to accompany the exiles here. Ellyssia refused the covenant of the third birth, claiming she would serve the sentence imposed by Providence. She, alone of our people, waits for Heaven to reclaim her.”

  “I wish I had known her in life.” I yawned again, but shook it off. “To give me anything when I only quivered at her feet, trembling in fear…”

  “You do yourself an injustice, White Rose. It takes great courage to remain in the savage vise of a dark glamour. Most would have fled, and that rather swiftly. You did not.”

  I knew he was trying to comfort me, but I had embarrassed myself, acting like a child alone in the night. “Had I done better, Ellyssia would have given me the sword with the dagger.”

  “My advice is to be grateful for what you have. Never have I heard of human or elf being offered celestial gifts before. As for still needing a blade of power, this is Avalon. We have enchanted swords all over the place. I will obtain one for you somewhere. Meanwhile…” I heard something being unwrapped, “…eat this. You must be famished.”

  I felt Amberyn’s hand against my arm, offering me something. I reached over and my fingers closed upon a chunk of bread. I wondered if the elf ever ate anything else. I broke off a piece and chewed it, savoring a special blend of seeds, nuts, and dried fruit.

  My hands grew too tired to move after I had consumed but a few morsels. My thoughts became lethargic. The uneaten portion of bread was pulled gently out of my hand, and the blanket was tucked around me. Sleep came and I dreamed…

  My feet silently track across an infinity of white. I leave black footprints as proof of my passing. I call out, but the terrible silence overwhelms my words, swallowing them. I see a black star that longs for a place in my soul. It craves me, drawing with unseen cords.

  Soon, the star lengthens and widens to become a door shaped like my face. This mask looms over me as I stop in front of it. Closed eyes open, and it stares with pits of hardest shadow. Lips move. I cannot hear the words, but I know what the mask wants, what all closed things want—to open.

  My hand reaches out, though I beg it not to. I grasp the razor edge of the black mask. Pain comes, sharp and immediate. I jerk my hand back and bleed darkness that falls and streaks the bottomless white. I reach out with both hands, and pull the face, turning it to reveal a horizontal well of darkness.

  Living Black pours in, spilling across my feet, filling the only infinity I have ever known. I scream as the White begins to die, for it has no voice, but mine. My throat becomes raw. My voice is silent after a while. I float on a sea of ink, carried swiftly up to the ivory arch of heaven. I hit the sky and it cracks. Pressed painfully against the barrier, I am held in place by a relentless current.

  Soon, either the sky will let me through, or I will shatter.

  I scream, and then I am through; born into a new world, the world of my mother’s rose garden. I start small, the size of a grub, and tumble from the petals of a rose. I grow larger, until I attain proper size.

  White roses blaze all around me in joyous celebration at my return. But the water in the fountain is black. It fills the basin and overflows, staining the ground. The flagstones turn onyx. Stems and leaves darken. The soft petals grow sable. The world becomes obsidian.

  I weep black tears, having destroyed the world. All this is my fault for opening a forbidden door … for releasing a hunger without end.

  Covered in cold sweat, I came awake in a rush. My chest heaved. I gasped for breath, sitting up, staring. My nightmare was real. There was no light anywhere. I had slain it. No!

  Belatedly, memory surfaced, informed me I was in a cave where heavy darkness was normal. Relieved, I looked toward the mouth of the chamber. It was dark as well because morning had not yet arrived. I hoped that my distress had not caused me to utter betraying sounds. We had enemies in the night that might be very close.

  Next to me, Amberyn breathed deep and slow. Undisturbed by what I had endured. I felt annoyed with him that he had not awakened to comfort me, breaking me from the fist of nightmare, yet I wished him better dreams than mine.

  Many more nightmares, and I would foreswear sleep altogether.

  I heard something beyond the cave’s mouth. The small hairs at the back of my neck bristled a warning I could not ignore. Still, if it were something inconsequential like a passing animal, I did not want to disturb the others. I decided to creep to the mouth of the cave and peer out through the screen of bushes that concealed the opening. The truth was I would rather do anything in that moment than return to sleep.

  Amberyn’s forearm hung laxly over my thigh. I gently slid away from him, gathered my feet under me, and stood. With one hand on the cave’s side wall, I stepped over the elf and made my way carefully, feeling ahead with each foot before I shifted weight to it. It took forever, being so careful.

  Close to the entrance, I sensed a great mass. I reached out and stroked Ty’hrall’s side. Asleep on his feet, deep in his dreams, he gave no sign he knew I passed.

  The darkness did not seem as absolute as at the back of the cave. I could make out my son, stretched out on the ground like a corpse awaiting burial. I shivered at the thought, and crept on to the mouth of the cave. My eyes and ears strained for information. I caught a breeze thickened with the scent of honeysuckle.

  Then came a bestial snarl followed by hushed words. “Why are we wasting our time? We have been over this same stretch of ground three times now.”

  There followed the sound of a blow, as though the questioner had been cuffed smartly across his head. Another voice spoke. “I smell magic. Someone tidied up their trail through here with a spell. I want to know who and where he has gone.”

  “He will scream on my blade,” another voice promised gleefully.

  I knew fear again, but not as before—this time it did not cripple me. Deliberately, carefully, I withdrew the way I came, taking exceptional care to make no more sound than the faintest whisper of cloth.

  These searchers had to be the Dar’kyn that Amberyn had mentioned. I knew it would be very bad if they found our hiding place. I was unarmed, and while Amberyn and Ty’hrall were formidable, there was no telling how large this hunting party was. I’d heard three voices, but there could be a dozen or more waiting out there, not the kind of odds to be faced needlessly.

  I caught Ty’hrall’s head and stroked his fuzzy cheeks, whispering into his ear. “Wake up, my friend … quietly. There is trouble!”

  He dipped his head to show understanding.

  “Dar’kyn,” I explained.

  I felt his body shiver, but knew this for suppressed rage, not trepidation. Ty’hrall feared nothing—but creatures of water.

  “Keep watch,” I said.

  I slipped away to Amberyn, and eased down beside him. In his sleep, he had discovered my abandoned blanket and appropriated it for his comfort. I lay down and slipped a h
and over his mouth, holding his shoulder with my other hand. “Amberyn, Amberyn! Dar’kyn … outside.”

  He held himself very still.

  I withdrew my hands.

  He rolled toward me and sat up. His hand found me, making me jump slightly in the darkness. The elf drew me close and whispered. “We must wait. Make no sound. It is safest to let the morning drive them away.”

  I knew he was right, but waiting was worse than battle. Doubtless, I would soon be straining for sounds until I started imagining them. It was too bad that Ellyssia’s hunting horn could not summon a host to stand beside us. Unfortunately, I had not yet found allies to swoop in to save the day. Had that been the case, I would already be assailing the World of the Dead to recover my son’s soul.

  I wasn’t dressed for quick movements should trouble find us.

  Doubtless, Amberyn had spare garments I can borrow that were more fitting to travel. I would have to get them in the morning and change from my present attire. I dare not try to change now—just removing my corset with its stays promised to be a noisy affair. All I could do was wait in stillness for our stalkers to leave.

  I felt for Amberyn. He was gone. I thought he’d probably gone forward to watch the mouth of the cave. Left alone, my thoughts explored sensitive avenues. Azrael had betrayed me with silence about my son, and then professed his love to me when it could only be a burden. I did not know if I could forgive him for either act, nor if I could stop loving him. That I did love him was no longer something I could hide from myself. When I thought I was dying on Ellyssia’s sword, his name was last on my lips. I knew what that meant.

  The thought of facing him stirred me beyond reason; I wanted to batter his face in with my fists, and then mend each wound with a kiss and loving caress. I wanted to carve chunks out of his shadowed heart, and then wrap myself forever in the cold comfort of his arms. Sadly, I shook my head at my conflicting impulses—my heart was a mess.

  I had to admit, I could use Azrael at my side. I knew the Dar’kyn would be no threat if he were here. I yearned to call his name, but it would do no good. He could not come through Avalon’s warding—my dark angel would never even hear me, not unless his heart’s strength surpassed his reaver power.