The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1)

by Blayde, Morgan

  Loss deadened the pale faces that turned our way. Their eyes widened with madness and distraction. No one moved to challenge Azrael as he carried me across the room, but a bitter hatred formed in our wake. If looks could flay, I’d have no skin left at all.

  The haunted emptiness within the Dar’kyn continued, as we fled the fortress and navigated the streets beyond. The villagers roused to glower at me, seeming to know I had killed all that held their dark society together. The elves on the surface might be glad I had extinguished the obsidian tree, but those down here would despise me endlessly. Any less devastated and they would have rushed to weapons, despite my unnatural protector.

  “Let us hurry,” he said, “before they awaken fully from the shock.”

  We reached the iron bridge. I buried my face against Azrael’s chest, and closed my eyes tightly. The cold deepened as shadows caressed me. A moment later, Azrael set me on my feet. I looked around. We were on the far side of the chasm. He had sped us across in a second, sparing me discomfort.

  I felt relief when we reached the blue-crystal grotto. The sound of falling water led us the rest of the way to the underground pool where we found Amberyn climbing the bank. He looked as disgruntled as a half-drowned cat. He stared. “What is this? You were supposed to wait for me to rescue you! Do you know what I had to go through to get this far? And you—reaver—what are you doing on this world? It should not be possible.”

  Several arrows came out of the darkness. One entered Azrael’s shoulder and vanished entirely, ignored by him. Another passed close to Amberyn’s startled face, and went on to hit the water he’d just crawled from. Apparently, the Dar’kyn had found a new purpose to center their lives upon—killing me.

  Forgetting his questions, Amberyn plunged to cover, flattening against a huge, blue, crystal splinter.

  The water geysered, determined to get into the fight. I watched liquid serpents form and knew that Tyne was here as well. That made it clear how Amberyn had arrived—he’d ridden the waterfall with the elemental’s help. Her water serpents arced into the distance, transparent bodies thinning and dripping as they went. In the far shadows, curses erupted, and mixed with scuffling sounds.

  Amberyn took advantage of the distraction to scramble my way. Without breaking stride, he threw himself into Azrael, dragging me along as well. We floated through a lightless realm, with danger left behind. A moment later, we reclined on a bed of grass near the surface pool, with the dark angel standing over us.

  The unicorn was there as well. He nuzzled my hair, taking my scent to reassure himself it was truly me. Absently I rubbed his cheek, staring around for my son. Surely he was somewhere close by. Not finding him, I turned my gaze upon Amberyn.

  “Where’s Phillippe?”

  “I found someone to take him in while our quest for allies and armaments continues. You need not worry.” Yet Amberyn’s gaze shied away from me. His manner contradicted his words.

  “What have you done?” I demanded.

  “I thought you might need me sooner rather than later, so I gave him to Tyne. I am certain that she will give him the best of care.”

  My eyes narrowed. I wanted to lash out against his high-handedness, but controlled myself. I needed to have faith in the people that Providence put in my path even if they were troublesome.

  “Even if there is difficulty with Tyne later,” Amberyn guessed at my thoughts, “recovering Phillippe should be a minor problem compared to what still lies ahead of us. I suggest we get on with our original plans.”

  “What plans are those?” Azrael asked.

  I wanted to tell him, but I needed something clear between us first. I rose to my feet and caught his stare with mine. “Where is your allegiance—to my grandfather, or me?”

  “To both of you,” he said.

  “And should it come to choosing between us?” I pressed.

  “That does not have to happen.” His face darkened and I knew that he did not believe his own words.

  I sighed, leaned into him, and pulled his face down for a kiss. “I know you love me, but my son’s soul is at stake. I need to know that you are fully behind my war on Death. Can you not put me first in your heart?” I begged.

  “It is not that simple. Love and honor are large pieces of who I am. You are asking me to cast away part of myself. If I do this, I am diminished. And without honor, how can you trust my love? How can I?”

  I trembled. His words meant I must rip out my own heart, and hope to mend the breach later. Tears crept down my face as I forced myself away from him. “I know this sounds heartless and cruel … but you must leave me, if you will not fight for me. The decision is yours.”

  Azrael stiffened as if I had slapped him across the face. His eyes burned brighter, then dimmed as he gained control of his emotions. The muscles along his jaws knotted as he stepped back from me. Though it was only a few more inches, it felt like miles. His cloak shuddered and disgorged the White Rose costume, sword, whip, and the silver mask—freshly cleansed of the rough usage I had put it to; Azrael was considerate if nothing else. He nodded in farewell, or at some thought of his own, and walked stiffly to Ty’hrall. A few murmured words passed between them, then Azrael was mounted and the unicorn’s horn shimmered with mystic force. Together, they started a run that slid behind the walls of space, for they thinned away to nothing, leaving Avalon behind.

  Of course, Azrael needed help leaving, I had destroyed the tree that gave him access to this warded world in the first place. The unicorn was probably taking the dark angel back to the cold comfort of his duty. Well, I had my own to attend to. I sighed heavily.

  “That went well,” Amberyn observed.

  I frowned at his irony. “Then you and I have different definitions of ‘well’. So what is next?”

  “Oh, that is easy. We still need a magic weapon, another mount, and some allies that lack all trace of fear.”

  “Allies? Some of your people?”

  “Yes, though I was thinking of going to Silver Wolf’s world and getting help there as well.”

  “You think his people will be so inclined?” Silver Wolf aided me, but that did not mean his people would be so inclined. Perhaps Amberyn intended to offer them gold.

  He shrugged and handed me the dagger I had lost when first captured. “You never know with shape-shifters, but it is worth a try.”

  12. THE VILLAGE

  Amberyn led us up an ivied hill under the vast forest canopy, to a place of power where white boulders were crude pillars. The stones were topped with more of the same, a ring in the air lit by slanted shafts of sunlight tinted yellow-green by the leaves. I felt the weight of lumbering curiosity, as if the trees had finally awakened to my presence. I felt them watching me as I would gaze at a ladybug creeping on my hand.

  I was neither excited nor afraid, just tired. I wanted everything over, but most of my journey still lay ahead. I drew a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pictured my son as he had been before tragedy struck him down. That was what I fought for, what I needed to recover. Resolve returned, bringing a second wind. We were here to open a gate to another world. I followed Amberyn into the ring.

  He played his harp once more, quick sharp chords that cut the air, and uttered a harsh song that lacked the beauty of the ballad which had brought us to this world. If various songs were keyed to specific worlds, then the next one would be a challenge.

  Sunlight covered me like resin, warming my face. A pine-scented wind kicked up, tugging at my hair. Then ecstasy pierced me, catching my breath, stealing it for a moment. The arousal of transition dropped away as I stepped into a frozen wilderness. Heavy clouds formed a low ceiling above us. The stinging wind deepened moment by moment. I raised my hood, grateful when we finally left a hill’s ridge for the blue-shadowed protection of a draw. My breath a white cloud, I shivered with every step across hard-packed snow.

  Riding would have been faster. I sorely missed the company of the unicorn. After his return, Amberyn had sent Ty’hrall t
o yet another world on a quest only he could accomplish. The unicorn would join us later. Concerned, I had asked what this other mission entailed, but Amberyn had only smiled, saying it was a surprise. I was wary of such surprises, this frozen hell being one of them.

  “How far is it to the shifter village?” I asked.

  “Not far.” He led me out of the draw. We skirted a thicket of ice-glazed cottonwood. “It will only seem like forever.”

  As if matters were not bad enough, he had to jest. I glowered at the big fluffy snowflakes that drifted against my face, melting into cold tears. I wanted to quicken my pace, but knew better than to work up a sweat that would only turn to ice against my body, threatening my life.

  Amberyn murmured a spell, his words carrying uncommonly well in the frigid air. A ball of ghostly blue fire appeared with a silver core. It moved off a bit and hovered, slightly bouncing in midair, waiting.

  “That way,” he said. “The ghost-light will guide us.”

  We veered into frozen brush that snapped and crackled as we forced a path. With a quick step, Amberyn pranced down a steep bank that cut off the wind. He wound up on a white slick, a frozen creek.

  At the bottom of the bank, I paused, transfixed, staring. A shudder and a thrill of fear went through me. My heart raced with my thoughts, faster and faster, as my stomach churned. This was how Phillippe had nearly died. I closed my eyes, refusing the sight. I knew we needed to hurry on, but I simply couldn’t.

  “Celeste? What’s wrong?”

  “I need … a moment.” I rallied my spirit, mentally giving myself a good shake. My son needed me functional. I had not truly been myself since Angelique’s death. Someone should have slapped some sense back into me before this—I needed the strength I had lost somewhere. I needed it badly. Until it returned, I would just have to get by on the endurance I did possess.

  I followed—awkwardly—my agility compromised by the numbing winds. Footing turned treacherous. I kept my head down and watched the placement of every step before shifting my weight.

  I realized that Amberyn had stopped only after I stumbled into his back. I latched onto him so I would not fall, and lifted my face to see what lay ahead. My mouth went dry with trepidation. Larger than I would have believed, three silver wolves stood as if frozen in place, posing for a painting. I expected yellow eyes, but they were ice-blue, displaying fearless interest. Their heads were broad and their front legs thickly packed with muscle—powerful brutes.

  With the ghost light hovering above him, Amberyn spoke in a low, cautious voice, “Take the mask out and show it to them.”

  I opened the pouch that hung at my side. The silver mask came to hand and I drew it forth.

  “I hope you know what I am doing,” I whispered.

  I held the snarling mask outside my cloak, against my chest. Dredging up courage, I angled past Amberyn and turned to face the wolves, my heart pounding though I told it to be calm. The animals’ icy gazes centered on the mask, then swung to my face. The lead wolf advanced with a slow smooth stride.

  “Steady,” Amberyn advised. “Don’t touch your sword. The wolf will take the gesture as a challenge.”

  My fingers twitched, but stayed in place, as I fought the wild impulse to go down stabbing.

  “Do not be afraid. They can smell fear. It will make you prey when you want to be accepted as a fellow predator,” Amberyn said. “And don’t look in their eyes either.”

  “Damnation, elf, you are a little late with that one!” I was already staring into the lead animal’s frosty, blue eyes as he led the other wolves my way. I closed my eyes and said a hasty prayer, drawing my guardian angel’s attention to my current needy situation.I heard a savage growl turn into a surprised yelp. My eyes snapped wide open. The dark angel was there, rising up from the wolf’s shadow. I reached out but stopped short of touching the back of Azrael’s cloak.

  Growling told me the other wolves weren’t as happy about this timely arrival as I was.

  “I thought I had chased you off.” My words were faint yet he heard me.

  “Just because affairs are muddled between us does not mean I am going to let you die.” His words did not cloud in the air like my own.

  It is strange, what the mind fastens on in times like these.

  He went on, “You would tear out your heart for your son, but I would tear out my own—for you. I have resigned from the service of Death. I have made my choice.”

  He had abandoned his calling for my sake, risking Death’s displeasure. I was overwhelmed, glad and dismayed at once. His proved love touched me deeply, but I had to feel sad and responsible that he had lost his place in the world he knew, and might never fit into the world Phillippe and I must return to. He was adrift in the universe, because of me. I felt the need to love him fiercely while I could.

  Secure in his presence, I stepped to his side and turned him toward me. I cast the mask onto the snow in front of the snarling wolf, and kissed Azrael, letting him feel my complete surrender to our passion.

  His strong arms wrapping me like steel bands as we embraced. His cold was negligible compared to the surrounding air. My world became one of pure sensation as his firm lips fused to mine. My heart melted like candle wax as joy flushed through me, a warm tingle. The thought that Azrael had once shared Phillippe’s essence made the embrace awkward for only the first moment.

  “There is a time and place for such things,” Amberyn chided. “This is not it.”

  But he was so wrong. The snarling of the wolves turned into puzzled whines as they found themselves ignored, forgotten.

  Azrael pulled back from me and turned toward the wolves. In a cluster, they stood close enough to pet, if I dared risk my fingers. “She is mine,” the dark angel told them, locking his gaze in turn with each animal. “Remember that always.”

  He wavered like a heat mirage in the desert and then was gone, leaving Amberyn and me to continue on our own. I was not fooled, however. I knew he was only a whisper away, bending reality so that his presence would not hinder negotiation. Emboldened, I knelt, bringing my head level to the wolves. I spoke softly, keeping my gaze lowered.

  “Silver Wolf gave me the mask along with his true name. His shade waits for me to call to him from the winds limbo, into the Courts of Death. I need your help to do this.”

  There! If any of these were shape-shifters, I had made my case. Now, I could only shiver in place, waiting for a response.

  The lead wolf hunched in on himself, rising on hind paws as if his spine were realigning. He changed, or some glamour was set aside, for the wolf melted into a man wrapped in furs with a short sword sheathed at his side. Only his eyes and the silver hair bristling on his scalp were the same. Though I half expected the change, it wrapped me in amazement. I stared, wondering if I would ever take such things in stride.

  “Amberyn, good to see you again.” He nodded, then turned a measuring eye on me. “Faang and D’elia will want to hear your words. Come with me.”

  Assuming obedience, he turned his back and walked away. The remaining beasts retained wolf form. I thought perhaps they might truly be as they seemed, with no other form to claim.

  I retrieved the mask, returned it to my pouch, and climbed to my feet. With Amberyn beside me, I followed in the shifter’s wake. The wolves fell in behind us to make sure we didn’t dawdle.

  The banks lowered along the frozen creek and soon the winds were whipping and cutting around us again, numbing my exposed face, making a streaming banner of my hair. I could have worn the silver mask, but the thought was distasteful. I was not sure I could ever wear the mask, remembering Aracus’ face burned away on Avalon.

  We reached a place where several boulders made stepping stones up the right-hand bank. Our guide went that way. Amberyn copied him, pulling me along by the hand, aiding my balance, down a well-worn path. A timber wall shielded a settlement. The top of the logs were hewn into rough points.

  A double gate was sealed shut. The wolf-turned-man advanced, s
houting to some unseen sentry within as we neared. Slowly, one of the great iron-hinged doors creaked open.

  I became aware that two wolves were immediately beside me, prodding with icy stares. I hurried to catch up with Amberyn.

  A sentry in human form—wearing chain mail and a blood-red cloak—stood watch where we entered the compound. He had a two-handed broad sword strapped to his back and a double-bladed battle axe in hand. His silver beard bristled as he smiled with little warmth. A scar ran across his left eye which was clouded white. The other orb blazed pale blue.

  “What have we here, Rhaul?” the man asked.

  “Strangers,” our guide said, “come with word of Silver Wolf.”

  “I heard he was dead,” the sentry said.

  “He is,” Amberyn said. “We have traveled farther than you would believe.”

  I stopped next to the elf and cast back my cloak, bringing forth the mask once more. The sentry’s good eye widened, fixing upon the ring I wore. “Apparently so,” he said. “You are required to leave your weapons with me while here, unless given leave to go armed.”

  I looked at Amberyn, ready to follow his example. He handed over his silver blade and I gave up my rapier and dagger, then produced the whip. It drew sharp interest from the guard who carefully examined the gleaming thorns worked into the white leather braid.

  Rhaul looked up at my face, curiosity emblazoned across his own. “I know what you pretend to be. Tell me who,” he said.

  “Celeste Comeyne.”

  “She is the White Rose.” Amberyn’s voice challenged. “I swear it on my children’s souls.”

  I did not doubt that the elf had a soul; I had seen a soul’s pain in his anguish over his abducted wife. I had felt the kindness and seen the courage only a soul can produce. The priests in my village church called elves soulless, but I disagreed.

  Suddenly, I realized that a stunned silence had captured those gathered around. Our hosts’ gazes clung to my face as though to burn my visage into memory. Still staring, the sentry spoke to Rhaul. “Faang is in the Great Hall with the spirit-caller. You’ll want to take these two there at once.”