When we’re nearly halfway across the bridge, he finally answers my question. “He isn’t specifically expecting us. Not now, at least. But he’d offered his help and gave me the password the last time we spoke. He told me it would be his least favorite part of the trials.”
“Why not the best?”
“Too easily guessed.” Rev shrugs.
Once across the passage, we continue down another winding trail that leads to a tunnel with huge and elaborate archways of braided stone. Shadows overtake us as we enter into the mouth of the lovely cave, and a wonderful smell of something like lavender overtakes me.
“Wow,” I breathe.
I bump into Killian’s rear. “Dude!”
“Sorry, can’t see much. It’s dark.”
I chuckle. “Oh, sweet luminescent child.” I slip past the stag and his rider, pressing my back to the cool stone. Then, I grip Killian’s reigns and guide him forward while uttering soothing words.
Finally, we reach an entryway, the ceiling is domed and torches light the whole room. I don’t even get a moment to examine it all before a voice booms through the whole place. “Hadn’t thought I’d see you again, shadow fae.”
I flinch until I turn and see a familiar dwarfish fae smiling at me.
“Hello, Tyadin.”
Rev
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever make it up here,” Ty says. “I was on my way out for a hike in the mountains, but I suppose I’ll have to rearrange my schedule now.” He laughs easily and waves us over.
I decide to leave out that the visit was Caelynn’s idea.
Tyadin fetches a stable hand to take Killian to the stables, and then he ushers us through another dark tunnel. It twists and turns, the darkness is overwhelming. I am used to my brightly lit court where everything is visible. Here, it’s dark and winding. You never know what’s around the next corner. The torches lighting the pathways are so far apart it leaves us in darkness much more often than I’d prefer.
I suppose this is more Caelynn’s element, though. I’d be curious to examine her expression... but it’s too dark to see it.
Finally, we reach what appears to be the entrance to the castle. There are a set of doors thirty feet high, rustic wood, and steel braced. Opposite the doors is a grand staircase, which means we’re already inside the castle. We went a back way?
We pass a pair of lanky fae whispering in the corridor and keep moving without a word to them. Down a smaller hall and through a wooden door, we enter a sitting room with a roaring fire and stained glass windows. There are two sets of bookshelves on one side of the room, and the rest are decorated with old portraits of fae I couldn’t name. The floor is grey stone, but there is a large red area rug that’s thick and warm.
“Swanky digs, Tyadin,” Caelynn says, examining a case full of trinkets.
“What?” Ty asks.
“Nice place,” she amends with a chuckle.
“Oh, thanks. It’s a pretty big change for me. I just moved here after the trials. I spent most of my life in the mountains with my father. My mother grew up here, though.” His mother is full fae, his father's full dwarf. He likely lived a very different life even just months ago than he is now.
“How did you get chosen as champion? I don’t think you ever told us,” Caelynn asks, as she plops down on one of the dark fur couches.
“The council held a trial of our own, just a simple dueling tournament. The winner was our representative in the trials. It didn’t matter that my father was a dwarf or that I don’t look even remotely fae because the only prerequisite to entering was being a citizen of the Crumbling Court. I think the queen was pleased a dwarfish fae won because it’s a good representation of who we are as a court. My competition was low, though. Even with an open tournament, there were only seven entrants. I think many fae were afraid of having to compete with the ruling courts. There was a lot of pressure for us to prove ourselves.”
“They were proud of you, I’m guessing.” Caelynn smiles.
“Very. Even though I basically dropped out of the trials. I could have completed that orb challenge, I just... didn’t think it was worth it anymore.”
I swallow and look down at my feet.
“But I made it pretty far. Made allies. They were more than happy with my performance. Honestly, if I’d failed in the second trial, I think they would have been happy. The shadow-vyrn story is legendary around here.”
Caelynn laughs.
“I’d say you should be prepared to sign a few autographs during your stay here, but the whole court is a bit distracted at the moment.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“Uh, well, it’s dwarfish stuff, actually. Nearly half of this court has some amount of dwarfish blood, so the rightful heir to the dwarfish throne showing up out of nowhere—well, it’s pretty big news.” Tyadin’s eyes glisten, the amber color shinning more than usual. And I know immediately this news means a lot to him.
“A dwarfish king? One of the lost heirs?” Caelynn asks.
Tyadin told us the whole story of the dwarfish people’s fall a century ago. It’s not a story fae among the ruling courts know very well. Bits and pieces, sure, but Tyadin gave us a perspective only a dwarf could give.
Basically, the king was killed by an ancient beast, and his two sons were taken by conflicting factions, both claiming they had the rightful heir to the throne. This resulted in a civil war, followed by a goblin invasion, and well, that was the end of the dwarfish kingdom. They’re scattered across the realm now, having no real place to call home.
Tyadin nods and runs his fingers through his long black hair. “It’s well documented that one of the heirs died. So, if he is really the other... he’s indisputably the true dwarf king now.”
Tyadin is quiet for a while, looking at his boots.
“So, what does that mean, exactly?” I ask. Wondering, mostly, what this means for my friend. I know he is very proud of his dwarfish heritage, so will he go following after this king? Assuming I believed his story, that’s what I would do in Ty’s shoes. “Is this heir going to rally the dwarves to follow him?”
“He says he wants to reclaim his throne in the old mountains. He’s putting together a group of dwarves willing to fight with him. I don’t think he’ll get many followers but...”
Caelynn’s eyes narrow.
“But you’re going,” I say definitively, the expression on his face and the shy yet proud stance illustrate his feelings on the matter fairly well.
He nods. “It’s probably a fool’s errand. The chances that a small group of dwarf warriors could chase out the goblins, defeat whatever fell creature still lurks in those mountains, and rebuild the kingdom...”
“You’ll probably die trying,” I agree.
“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at my head. I catch it easily and then lean over the back of the couch.
“But if it was me,” I continue, “I’d rather die fighting for my dreams than live with regret and wonder what if.”
Tyadin smiles. “Thanks.” He takes a seat across from Caelynn, who, I notice, is staring at me. I meet her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking, but she immediately blinks and turns away.
Tyadin clears his throat. “So, Caelynn, I’m surprised to see you here. How did you hook back up with Rev?”
Caelynn blinks, her eyes wide, but she recovers quickly. “Well, that’s an interesting story.”
“She had a delivery for my father,” I tell him simply.
“Oh?”
“An assassin’s head.”
Tyadin smacks his hand over his eyes. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” she says, not at all bashful.
I laugh. “It was pretty badass actually. It came as a surprise, but the look on my father’s face when she came marching into our banquet hall—I swear, I’ll cherish that moment the rest of my life.”
“Damn, sounds like I missed an iconic moment.”
“You did.”
“So, I
assume you’re here because you need help with your mission. What is it you need?”
I take in a long, awkward breath and then force myself to say the words. I recount to Tyadin my failed attempt at getting through the Wicked Gates, and immediately, the countenance in the room changes. Tyadin leans forward, eyes focused on nothing at all as he listens intently. He’s taking this seriously, and already some of the tension between my shoulders eases.
I’m not alone anymore. I have allies.
We’re not any closer to a solution, but I know I have his and Caelynn’s full efforts to aid me.
“So, our goal,” Caelynn says, “is to get him through those gates, by whatever means necessary.”
“We could catapult him over?” Ty muses, a sly grin spreading on his face.
“Ha ha.” Caelynn rolls her eyes
“Seriously, I would do it if it’d work.” I swallow, my expression still serious despite their jokes. “I don’t care if I get back out again... I have to get in and get that cure.”
“Well, you need to get back out or the cure won’t come with you,” Tyadin says.
“Whatever, you know what I mean. I can’t be remembered as a failure, rejected by even the Wicked Gates.”
“It could be a good thing,” Tyadin muses. “You were rejected for being too pure? That wouldn’t be such a bad legacy, would it?”
“Sure, I’ll be just good enough to fail the entire realm and allow thousands to die. No one will care why I failed, they’ll only know that I did. And also, no, that isn’t the issue. You don’t have to be a murderer—" I pause, forcing my eyes not to dart to Caelynn. She’s noticeably still as I fight my brain to find the words to continue. “You don’t have to be evil to go in. Historically, there are many counts of people going in and coming out that are heroes of their times even before they enter.”
“But that doesn’t mean they don’t have their demons,” Caelynn says.
“And I have them too.” If she could only feel the anger swirling through my chest now. My selfish pursuit of power. My hatred for my own... I shake my head. He’s not my father. “I’m telling you, it is not because I am too pure.”
“Well, theory number two,” Tyadin says, expression still stone serious as he concentrates, “is it possible the gates don’t recognize you as the winner of the trails?”
Rev sniffs. “I asked the queen this—it was an awkward conversation, but it had to be done. She said there was no particular reason the gate would care about the trials at all. Anyone could enter.”
“Well, sounds like the queen is a lot of help,” Caelynn mumbles. “Any other theories?”
“Nothing promising. The gate is just being a dick and will change its mind if I keep trying? The sorcerer who started the scourge also put a curse on it so that no one can enter? That it’s actually a riddle I need to solve?” I shrug.
“Well, let’s keep trying then,” Caelynn says confidently. “We’ll make a trip to the gates tomorrow. You’ll try, and we’ll be witnesses—see if we notice something you don’t. Best case, you get through tomorrow, and you’re on your way to being the savior of the realm. Worst, we’re back to where we were, and we’ll brainstorm again after.”
I take in a long breath and nod. It does feel good to have a plan, as simple as it is. There’s a step ahead; even though I already know how it will end, it’s still comforting.
Caelynn
Tyadin presents us with guest rooms right next to each other. His apartment is two floors above ours, but he spends several hours in Rev’s room. Long enough that he either sleeps there or I simply never hear him leave.
I flip through the books Rev provided, learning as much about the Wicked Gates as possible. It feels like such a masochist endeavor. I’ve known that my soul is bound for the Schorchedlands when I die for a full decade. It’s a fate I can’t avoid after everything I’ve done. My soul has been tattered and scarred since the day I wandered into the wrong tunnel inside the Cave of Mysteries ten years ago—the moment the Night Bringer shoved his talon through my chest. Or perhaps it was when I agreed to his bargain and his magic entered my body. Either way, the girl who entered those caves did not come out.
So, learning details about the fae afterlife and the broken souls bound to it isn’t my favorite research subject. It’s all to help Rev, I remind myself. I want his life to be worth sacrificing mine for. I want to know I made the right choice.
I heave in a long breath through my nose and continue reading.
There are three distinct sections of the Schorchedlands. The outer edge, the inner circle, and finally, the core. Each section holds worse and worse evil spirits. Each inch closer to the center, it becomes hotter, the world darker, the smog thicker. Living beings can’t survive for more than a few hours inside the core because the air is poisonous to them.
One of Rev’s books tells the tale of twelve fae who had entered through the Wicked Gates and returned. One of them lived an entire year inside the walls. Another of his books is about the legends surrounding the origin of the Schorchedlands. The beings that created the fae realm and its people had infighting between them, and three of those ancient beings created a magical place of punishment, so strong that even one of their own would be trapped once bound to the place. I graze through that book, but the story reminds me so much of the Night Bringer that I can’t bring myself to focus too heavily on it. If the Schorchedlands holds a being like him—or perhaps worse—I certainly don’t want to know about it.
The Wicked Gate, it reads, was spelled to only allow one living being to enter and return every ten years. The return part being key.
Living beings can enter as much as they would like, but with the clear understanding that they can never return. Any living being who enters must give the Wicked Gate a formal request of total free will. The purpose was so that no one could be coerced into the lands as mortal punishment.
The book says nothing about a prerequisite for getting into the realm. It says nothing about needing to answer a riddle or needing to have a tarnished soul.
It does, however, explain that in addition to the initial purpose of holding the most evil of powerful beings, it was always intended to be a temporary holding. That every soul is redeemable, no matter how sullied, and once any soul within achieves the redemption they missed while in the land of the living, they will then pass onto the next life.
This is the reason many wraiths accept bargains from the living. Some just for a sense of adventure, for a chance to cause mischief in the world they once inhabited, but for others, it’s a chance to redeem what they missed while living.
Souls needn’t be entirely pure to pass on, the book says. Many souls have several conflicts weighing them down. But one negative attribute will stand out most significantly. Your gravest sin. Your deepest seeded flaw.
This becomes the soul’s new quest. Resolve it, and be redeemed. Refuse, and remain forever.
The Schorchedlands exist to hold evil spirits away from the living but also to allow these spirits the opportunity to face their single most damaging flaws and fix them. Once this single quest is completed, they will be expelled from the land of death and given life anew.
The text then goes on to list the most common solutions to an unredeemed soul.
Selflessness. Humility. Forgiveness—themselves or others. Acceptance. Truth. Honest caring.
They’re fairly vague answers that don’t tell me much. Beneath each is an example of a soul who was redeemed by one of those things.
I must fall asleep somewhere in this list because the next thing I know, someone is knocking on my door hollering from the hallway.
“Shut up, Tyadin!” I grumble, pulling my face out of the parchment. My hair sticks oddly to the side of my face. Great. I’m going to look fabulous today.
“You have five minutes before I knock again. After that, we’re leaving without you.”
I flip the door off and then groan as I roll out of the chair I’d been sitting in and get ready
to face a predictably unpleasant day.
Rev
Caelynn’s eyes are as red as I am sure mine are. Tyadin and I stayed up most of the night, reading through several books about the Schorchedlands and the Wicked Gates. We got very little new information.
Our strange party doesn’t speak much at all as we set out, each with a mount this time. I ride my golden stag, and Tyadin provides plain old stocky ponies for himself and Caelynn, thanks to the Crumbling Counsel. He’s a hero in this place ever since the trials. It’s funny—he’s a hero for placing in fifth. Drake, Kari, and Brielle, I know, each had to deal with legitimate backlash for simply not winning. Mostly for allowing a lesser court fae to defeat them.
Once we make it to the flat trail we set out on our trek at an easy gallop. As we grow closer, the sun finally rises enough to wake me fully and Tyadin as well, apparently, because he begins a chatter.
“So, you two traveled from the Luminescent Court together.”
“Yes?” Caelynn says.
“With one mount? What happened to yours, Caelynn?”
“Never had one.”
“You mean to say Prince Reveln of the Luminescent Court, the gentleman, made the lady walk the whole thirty-mile trek on foot while he rode that lovely stag?”
“I am not a lady,” Caelynn spits quickly.
“You’re a countess, are you not?” Ty asks.
“I was disinherited long ago. And we traveled much farther on foot during the trials. Thirty miles is not that far.”
Even for fae, thirty miles isn’t a particularly pleasant stroll, but I don’t feel the need to add to Tyadin’s tangent. I should just tell him to pipe down and mind his business now, but I’m curious to see Caelynn’s reaction to this conversation.
“But we didn’t have the option of a stag or a horse during the trials. It’s really just about manners.”
“I had plenty of manners. Of course, I offered her my stag.”
“Ahh!” Tyadin says. “So, you walked then?”
“No.”
Curse of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 2) Page 5