Dirge stopped walking and rubbed her chin. “For Mattoc, that is acceptable.” She nodded once. “Go ahead.”
“Very well, Dirge Meilan,” Rhapsody said, taking the door by the handle and pulling it open.
31
When I awoke, I was sitting astride a giant white horse with a flowing pink mane and a large ivory horn jutting from the center of its head. Two great feathered wings spread from the animal’s flanks, brushing softly against my calves. I was riding a winged unicorn. The White Queen was steadily leading the unicorn with both reigns in her tiny hand.
The path we followed glittered like opals sprinkled with silver in the sunlight, turning the ground beneath us into a dance of light and color. Flowers of all shades sprouted around us for miles. So many and so different it made them almost indistinguishable from one another. It was like walking through one of those oil paintings that didn’t focus on the details quite as much as it should have.
A small noise escaped my lips, and the girl turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were narrowed into thin slits, and I could just barely make out the green beneath.
“You’re Rhapsody aren’t you?” I asked even though I already knew the answer. “The White Queen.”
The girl frowned. “What is it you really ask? Do you want to know my name? What is in a name, anyway? Do you wish to know why you are here or what is going on or anything or everything?” She swept her hands out. “Your question is hardly specific enough to be answered.”
I shook my head. It was very difficult to concentrate on what she’d said, and yet, somewhere in the back of my mind something was clicking, telling me that somewhere, somehow this was all familiar.
“What is your name?” I asked again.
“Rhapsody,” she replied.
I gulped and shut my eyes. This tiny red-haired six-year-old was responsible for allowing my birth. It might not sound like much, but Warthor had basically threatened to rip open the gates of Hell and allow its denizens free rein over the earth if I was not revived. He had taunted the gods and Rhapsody had seemingly bowed to his arrogance.
Or so I’d thought. She had shown me what really happened. She had not forced Dirge to come back. She would have let Dirge stay in the afterlife, forever. Rhapsody would have let Warthor destroy the world if she had wanted to stay.
In reality, Warthor had never had the power to bring Dirge back to life. Dirge had held all the power. She had chosen to die, and she had chosen to live. The only concession was that she had wanted Mattoc to come back as well. No wonder he hated it when I disrespected her. I made a mental note to talk to him about it. Yeah, I felt bad. So sue me.
When I opened my eyes, a large castle was beginning to appear in the distance. It sat perched atop an enormous glacier. Giant ice sculptures of majestic trees and ferocious animals dotted the landscape. I took a deep breath and noticed my hands were shaking. This was the home of my old master, The Invincible Warthor Ein. I was almost there, and it scared the hell out of me.
The winged unicorn gave a nervous whinny as Rhapsody led us toward a bridge. Sitting in the center was an aged crone in a pink flamingo-patterned lawn chair reading a novel. She looked up from her book, and with a dismissive glance at Rhapsody, waved us through.
“Okay, who was that?” I asked, turning to look at the ancient woman.
“The old crone of the bridge. She likes romance novels,” Rhapsody replied. “Once you cross this bridge you will be fully in Warthor’s domain. Perhaps it is there you will find what you are looking for.”
We stopped before a bridge with planks rotted and filled with the green moss of decay. I looked at it warily as Rhapsody began to sing.
“Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, oh wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house, counting out his money, the queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey, the maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes, when down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.” The words continued fluttering from Rhapsody as I dismounted and crossed the bridge, leaving her and the unicorn behind.
The closer I got to the massive structure on the other side, the more it looked like it had been carved from one singular block of ice. Purple and blue spires jutted from the cold earth in a seemingly rhythmic pattern as though someone had sat atop the earth with a flute and coaxed them from the ground. Bright flashes of blue and gold danced around me as I came ever closer to a solid silver drawbridge.
In front of the spectacular, gleaming bridge stood Rhapsody. As I approached, she looked up with eyes as weary as dull coals and raised a slender hand to stop me.
“Did you know that in the olden days people used to eat song birds as a delicacy?” she giggled slightly to herself. “That is so human after all. Not being able to enjoy something without destroying it entirely.” Then she reached out, grabbed my nose, and tweaked it roughly.
I glared at the girl before shoving past her. Warthor was so close I could practically feel his presence.
Rhapsody smiled and glanced at me once more. “Do not hop back into the nest, young one. Instead live. Do as your brothers and sisters have done and live.” With those words, she morphed into a wispy swarm of bees and buzzed off into the distance toward some unknown honeycomb.
Behind me, the bridge had faded away, leaving a great swath of winter where it had been. I turned toward the icy monolith before me. Zef was right. The time for barking had ended.
32
I was impressed. Normally, mortals couldn’t survive for long periods of time in the nether. Most people’s minds, even among the Dioscuri, couldn’t handle being in the nether for too long. Why? Because the nether had a way of warping its own reality.
Anyone who stayed in a place where up was down and black was white long enough tended to come back cuckoo for cocoa puffs. But not only had Warthor lived here for years, he’d created his own domain. It was impressive, to say the least. Now, only one question remained. Was he still sane? I really, really hoped so, but if he wasn’t, there was always Plan B. Haijiku, the one sword even the Invincible Warthor Ein feared.
I glanced down at the weapon and gripped the hilt in my hand, reaching out toward it with my mind. Like my old weapon, Shirajirashii, Haijiku was inhabited by a spirit. I had asked Apep to summon The Emissary of Tragedy back into the blade, but so far I hadn’t felt its presence. If The Emissary refused to come back, the blade would be no more than a pretty sword. A pretty sword was not going to stop Warthor Ein and save Mattoc.
I pulled the sword from its sheath and held it in front of me, and as I did so, I felt a spark, the faintest twinge of consciousness flicker within the blade. I shut my eyes and let my power flow outward.
Something inside the sword seemed to tremble. There was the rustle of a great cloud of wings, like thousands upon millions of butterflies flittering to and fro. It flickered over my skin, drinking in my thoughts, my memories, and my desires. It did all this in the space of a heartbeat. It took all of me and seemed to nod. The flutter of wings settled within the blade.
Haijiku was legendary. I wasn’t at The Emissary’s level, and that he had come when called was a big deal. Yet, somehow, I had expected him to come. The people who would be willing to allow The Emissary back into the world would be few and far between. Most of them didn’t have Apep, the Egyptian deification of darkness, to vouch for them. Still, I was pretty sure Haijiku had shown up for one purpose and one purpose only: to destroy Warthor Ein. Why else would my old master fear the blade so much?
Marble and onyx statues of winged men battling serpents stood on either side of a rusty iron door. I was at the massive entrance to Warthor’s castle at last. I had never been to Warthor’s secret lair in the nether before. I hadn’t even heard details about it. Warthor wasn’t someone whom most would purposely seek out. He was one of those people to be avoided at all costs. Yet, I was about to barge into his hous
e and try to kill him. I was sure I had made worse plans before, but I couldn’t exactly think of when.
I gripped Haijiku a little tighter and pushed the door open. Shards of ice protruded from a twisted throne in the center of the room at seemingly arbitrary angles as if the designer’s plan had changed whimsically throughout its creation. An eerie incandescence painted the inhabitant of the throne in an ominous light, obscuring his reclining form from view.
“So you have come to me at last, Bunny.” Warthor’s voice echoed in the room as a single yellow rose twirled listlessly between his fingers.
He began to pick the petals off the little yellow flower. “She loves me…” he said, and so on until every last petal littered his lap.
“I want Mattoc back,” I said interrupting him. “Now.”
He sat back for a moment and regarded the former flower. “Such a pitiful thing now… such a pitiful, beautiful thing.” He bit down on the remains of the flower and chewed softly.
As I took a step inside, Warthor waved his hand, and the door slammed shut behind me. I jumped. My mouth went dry and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Even a mongoose wasn’t supposed to step into the viper’s den. I was much less than a mongoose, and he was a better-than-average viper. Even with Haijiku this was stupid.
I glanced down at my trembling hands and tried to will them to stop shaking. When that didn’t work, I placed my hand back on the pommel of Haijiku. The blade comforted me somewhat. Warthor was scared of this weapon. No matter how monstrous and cunning he was, he feared The Emissary of Tragedy.
Warthor reached off to the side, and with his fingers, nudged a crystal wine glass. His fingers stretched, pawing at the glass just out of reach. He cursed and shifted his weight until he could wrap his hand around the stem. As he began to swirl the wine within, the red fluid cast a faint sanguine hue over his hand. The wine moved slowly, traveling up the glass to form translucent dribbles that dripped down to join the rest.
“Give back Mattoc,” I said again, trying to keep my voice calm and empty.
He lifted the wine glass to his nose. His eyes seemed to melt as he inhaled deeply, breathing in the fragrance. He tilted the glass ever so slightly, to allow just the faint trickle of the fluid to flow guiltily into his mouth as I stepped toward him. His eyes narrowed, and he threw the glass at the wall. It shattered in a flash of crimson.
“Unacceptable,” he cried, pointing at Haijiku. “You dare to bring that wretched thing into my presence, Bunny? Your daring will cost you as it has already cost me a delightful glass of Pinot Noir. Hurry and fetch me another so that my wrath might be sated.”
Hot anger bubbled up inside me. I had feared this man for so long. Today, I was going to squash my fear. After all, I was sure he had made Joshua do all those horrible things to me. I didn’t know how exactly, but it was classic Warthor Ein. No one else would use such overwhelming force. The only question was why. Not why had he done it, but why had he wanted my gun?
Warthor stood, throwing his scarlet robe off with one thin arm. The robe fell in a heap at his feet, the golden medallion he cinched it with clanging against the frozen floor like a gong. He pointed at me. “You must do what I say! I brought you back from Hell!” He turned his back to me and gripped the arms of his throne, his ribs expanding and contracting under his black long-sleeved turtleneck with each heavy breath. His rail-thin body was almost always hidden beneath oversized sleeves and loose pant legs. He glanced over his shoulder at me and narrowed his sunken, ice-blue eyes.
I wasn’t quite sure why he was so gaunt and frail looking because I’d seen him throw a fire truck over a building before. Even skilled magicians needed to have some kind of muscle to do that, but I was pretty sure Warthor weighed barely over a hundred pounds soaking wet. Then again, I was also pretty sure his true superpower was being able to eat through an entire buffet and not gain an ounce. The bastard.
“I know what you’ve done, Warthor… Everything,” I lied because for all I knew I’d missed something obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time or the last time.
“I’ve done lots of things, Bunny, and regretted few of them.” He turned, oozing his way toward me. Before I knew it, he was cradling me like a dancer. He leaned in until our lips were almost touching. “And yet, m’ lady, here you are by my side once again.”
“Enough, you lunatic!” I snarled and pushed him away from me. He caught my bandaged hand roughly, and I had to resist the urge to cry out. Still, it should have hurt more than it did. Good, I was finally healing.
“I’m the lunatic?” He smacked his chest with his palm. “You come here, to my home, with that weapon. You come with harsh words on your tongue and hostility in your heart. It is as though you have no respect for your master.” He shook his mop of oily black hair.
His hand darted out, seizing me by the throat. Before I could blink, he flung me away as if I weighed nothing. The back of my head struck the throne a few feet away and stars flashed across my eyes. I ignored it, pushing myself to my feet, and ignoring the throbbing between my temples.
“If you don’t give Mattoc back, I’m going to kill you.” I let the emotion drain from my face and voice as I spoke. “After you let him go, I need you to tell me how you plan to stop Valen.”
“Why should I tell you a damned thing, Lillim?” Warthor threw his head back and laughed before looking at me as if I were very dull. His smile grew strained as thoughts flashed through his eyes. “Maybe I should do nothing at all?”
“If you do nothing, the monsters will realize the Dioscuri are powerless to stop them.” I took a step toward him, clutching Haijiku. “Sure, it’s a dragon now, but eventually it will be more. Already the vampires are practically impossible to handle. They think we’re a myth, Warthor. A myth.”
“What do I care if monsters find out your mother’s worthless Dioscuri are gone? Maybe if I sit back and let them do something, they’ll come back and do their damn jobs for once. Then you can stop doing whatever it is you do in Southern California and start doing real work.” The way he said it made me think he might have been thinking about this for a while. It seemed insane though. Would he really let Valen rise just to snub his nose at the other Dioscuri? No, he wouldn’t. He had to have a plan, after all, he was bound to Trius and Valen had been clear about one point in particular. He wanted Trius dead.
As that thought played through my head, I realized I didn’t care what Warthor’s plan was. For years the Dioscuri had been the story told to all things that go bump in the night. We were the things that gave nightmares bad dreams. We were the boogeymen of the spiritual world and to tell all those horrible, nasty things that the proverbial boogeyman was gone, well… If Johnny the vampire wasn’t killing people because he feared a big bad Dioscuri would get him, what would he do when that fear was gone? I wasn’t sure, but I also didn’t want to find out.
“Someone’s got to keep the place safe.” My glare settled on Warthor, and I nearly screamed at him as my hand tightened on Haijiku’s hilt. “What I do is plenty important.”
“Yeah,” he replied with a snort. “Running away from your mom was really important to the cosmic plans of the whole universe.”
33
“You’re freaking insane!” I drew myself to my feet, using the throne for support. He was distracting me with crazy, which was weird because he wasn’t crazy. Not in the classical sense at least. Like Sheldon in Big Bang Theory, sometimes it didn’t matter that Warthor was probably the smartest person on the planet. If he wasn’t consciously trying to focus on how to act, well, all bets were off.
“You stole Mattoc.” I shook my head and glared at him. “You sent Joshua to steal my gun.”
“So?” A wicked smile appeared on his face. “I had to free you from your fears. You’re already a better fighter than Dirge, but you want to pay for her sins. You keep saying, ‘I’m not her,’ then you torture yourself over a comparison that only exists in your mind. I want you to be free of that.”
�
�Then why did you steal Mattoc?” I asked, wondering if what he said was true. Even if it was, would it matter?
“I wanted to make sure you’d come to my doorstep sooner rather than later. I knew you’d come here for Mattoc eventually, but you have a penchant for becoming distracted with meaningless tasks.” He shook his head and sighed. “With Valen on the loose, it took you how long to come find me? I should have been your first stop. First on your ‘to do’ list. I had to find out from other channels while you chose to play kissy-face with Caleb I’m-a-huge-bore Oznek.” He glared at me, his narrow eyes sweeping over me in a rush of anger. He flicked his hand at Haijiku. “I don’t know what you expect to do with that.”
“I’m going to kill you with it,” I growled and drew the blade with my good hand and held it in front of me. Haijiku came alive in my hand. It was like a field of birds, knowing it would explode into a storm of flapping wings if you took even one step toward it.
“No you won’t. You know what will happen if the Dragon Knight dies. Valen and his vampires will rule the world.” He bit his lip before smiling. It had been for just a second, but I’d seen it. He may have been bigger, faster, and all-around better than me, but he was still scared of Haijiku.
“That doesn’t bother me.” I said, and the strange thing was, it was true.
I knew, deep down that Joshua would never betray me on purpose. Somehow, Warthor had forced him to do it and that made it worse. That made me hate Warthor so much, that at this exact moment, I didn’t care about the damn drakes and their endless war. I didn’t care that Warthor’s death meant Valen would win.
“Go now,” Warthor growled. “And I shall spare your life this one time. Return to me when you have gained the respect worthy of your honored master.” His hands curled into fists. “Otherwise I will destroy you as easily as I would take out the garbage.”
The Lillim Callina Chronicles: Volumes 1-3 Page 20