by K T Munson
Reluctantly, Troy followed Maris from the interior of the ship and out to the deck. The wood and railing were in perfect condition. Very little paint was chipped, and the wood was well maintained. Clara waved to them as she stood by the gangplank. Katallan was standing next to her and drawing strange looks given his size and well-wrapped head. If they only knew the truth.
The fresh air put a new spring in his step as they left the lavish steamship. The horn announced its arrival, and future passengers hurried to assemble in a makeshift line so that they could board once the last passenger departed for Barrie Cove. He could see in the distance the domed cathedral that served as home for Tym Resh’s gate.
Barrie Cove’s unique architecture included white buildings with red and brown wood embellishments in strange crisscross and straight patterns across the walls. Other buildings had red roofs and fantastical designs on the buildings stonework. Many looked like colorful fans. Some of the roof eaves faced the street and others faced neighboring buildings. Some homes were tiered; some were split, while a few others had little rooms and towers at the front. One had a massive tower with great windows in the shape of a child’s toy top. It, like the steamship, was absolutely breathtaking. He had never seen so much white on buildings, and the red roofs were a beautiful accent. Clara took equal pleasure in it and pointed out many of her favorites.
He was so absorbed in their surroundings that when they arrived at the domed building, time had passed quickly. Troy had been delirious when they had stumbled through the gate in search of Clara. Now he looked at the city of Barrie Town with fresh eyes. Meredith was lucky to live in such a place. Perhaps the Gate Guardians should begin visiting other planets’ gates to gain new appreciation for their partners’ homes.
When the door opened, Maris announced Troy and Clara. Clara was wide eyed and tight lipped when they announced her as the Keeper of Hystera. Troy understood her reaction. It would be an adjustment for anyone. When Meredith rounded the corner herself, Tory was relieved. The cut on the side of her head was still bandaged, but she appeared to be much improved. Until he noticed her grim expression.
“What is it?” Troy asked coming toward her.
She took a steadying breath. “It…” Meredith began, and then her calm exterior cracked. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Troy’s mouth dropped. Putting a hand on her arm, Troy asked, “What happened?”
She let a sob escape before she managed a few words. “It is the dial.”
“The gate’s dial?” Troy asked, confused.
“Ashlad has gone dark,” Meredith wailed, surprising those around her. She nearly collapsed, but Maris caught her. His arms held her up as Troy took her hand.
His stomach fell to his feet. All of his earlier happiness was gone. There was only one reason a dial went dark when activated: a dead Gate Guardian. Tory remembered the day it went dark when Ruhan’s predecessor had died. The new guardian had to activate the dial before the gate would work again, and the green light of Ashlad’s dial would remain dark until then.
“Malthael,” Troy whispered. “What has happened to you?”
As Meredith cried into Maris’s chest, Troy wondered if she was mourning Malthael or the possibility that their only hope had been dashed and that the horror of recent events would increase tenfold. They were under siege from an enemy that could appear from fractures to seemingly anywhere on the planets and kill them all as they slept. Despite the abject horror that Troy felt at the continued assault from creatures of the Netherworld, it was muted against what was happening in Morhaven. If Malthael was truly dead, what would be Elisabeth’s fate?
Chapter 50: Hani’sun Mahavoril (Upside-Down)
Elisabeth sucked in a startled breath and felt the cold stone of the floor against her cheek. She pushed herself up. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She wasn’t in a room. She was outside, and the tile beneath her was a bright yellow. All around her poppies swayed in the wind, their blood-red faces dancing. To her left a giant tree rose before her atop the back of a pale stone man. To the right of the tree’s trunk was the face of that stone man lying half in the soil. The man’s eye was the size of her body. The statue’s stone legs must have been buried beneath the ground.
Tilting her head to the side, she studied the way the massive tree seemed to grow into the statue’s body. The roots intertwined with every aspect of the sleeping giant.
Where was she? Slowly she stood and dusted off her skirts. She scanned the area, but she saw only the yellow path, the giant tree, and an endless field of poppies.
The sun was unwavering, and she put her hand above her eyes to shield them. She hoped that doing so would allow her to see further, but she only saw more of the same. Was this where she was going to spend her afterlife? Were her friends all right? All at once she remembered Malthael’s death, and she fell to her knees. She wrapped her arms around herself and wept. The pain of a thousand lifetimes passed over and out of her with every sob. The ground was covered in her tears and then seemed to swallow them up.
“I feel your grief, child,” she heard and looked up.
Elisabeth gasped, the surprise of having a statue speak to her shocking her out of her anguish. Its one exposed eye was open and watching. Its body stayed rooted in its spot, but when it spoke, its mouth opened and the ground trembled from its might.
Her mouth hung wide a moment before she asked, “Who are you?”
The ground shook, and Elisabeth realized the statue was chuckling. “Who is not a concern. What is the right question. I am Morhaven,” it replied in a gravelly voice.
“I don’t understand,” Elisabeth said. “Morhaven is a place, not a person.”
“I am not a person in terms of your conventional thinking. Speaking in your tongue like this is exhausting, but I shall try to explain,” the stone man said. “I am the soul of Morhaven. I am the father and mother of it and all its inhabitants. So long as Morhaven exists, I am bound to it. This is Hani’sun Mahavoril.”
“You created the Divine Court?” Elisabeth asked, astonished.
“Long ago I created the first council of six. The first Det Morian chief among my creations was to rule my world. She and her descendants were to continue that course, taking on the responsibility to protect Morhaven. They are as much a part of me as Morhaven itself,” the statue explained.
Two things about that statement were amazing. First, it meant that Elisabeth was talking to the equivalent of a god, a creator of life itself, Secondly, the first ruler of Morhaven had been a woman. Looking at the statue more closely, Elisabeth realized that even though the voice was raspy, she couldn’t tell the statue’s gender. It had sounded gruff and masculine at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. Its chest was far buried and the great tree grew on its back, which obscured what might be any feminine curves. The statue wore a headdress-like crown that could have been worn by either gender. Perhaps gender did not apply. Perhaps it was neither.
“Why am I here?” Elisabeth finally asked cautiously.
There was a short pause. “You took from me, and I gave willingly, but there is a price for what you have taken.”
Elisabeth’s blood ran cold, and for a moment she wondered if death might not have been easier. She was convinced that she didn’t die, she could feel it in her bones, but she did not know what this god had in mind for her. Instead of death, the god of Morhaven had protected her, given her the power to kill Arawn, and shared secrets of the Divine Court. It was a debt that she knew would not be easily paid.
“What is it you ask of me?” Elisabeth asked.
The statue made a sigh of appreciation. “Correct the damage Arawn has wrought. The fracturing between the Netherworld and the planets pains me. They were not to be connected that way. Return the world to its rightful balance.”
“What about Arawn?” Elisabeth asked, her entire body filled with hatred.
“He is one of my six, just as you are. The house of Arawn cannot fall,” the god of Morhaven replied.
Elisabeth felt shock and rage all at once—shock that her bloodline was descended from one of the original six and rage that she could not bring Malthael’s killer to justice. She’d thought him dead, but instead he would live and were she to keep her word, she would have to protect him. It burned in her gut that she had to leave him be. An idea came to her, a backup plan. Her fists uncurled as she resolved herself to ending Arawn’s reign.
“Very well,” she consented. The god settled back in and closed its eyes. Elisabeth waited a beat before asking. “How am I going to leave?”
“Follow the yellow stone road.” It was as though the air was whispering to her.
Elisabeth turned. The yellow trail continued to her right and wound through the cheerful clearing with the bright poppies and straight into a disturbingly dark forest. She gave the sleeping giant a doubtful look and sighed. Resigned, Elisabeth began walking along the trail. The poppies closest to her seemed to turn, and the grass reached for her. Memories of deadly lilies kept her far from the reaches of planets. Ethandirill was not here to save her this time.
When she reached the edge of the path before it entered the nearly black forest, she paused. Her mind turned to her friend and to Ki. Her papa was lost, but they could still be saved. She could save them. The path seemed to glow in the darkness. With newfound resolve, she quickly ducked through the blackened crisscrossed trees at the opening and entered the forest, determined to return.
Chapter 51: The Divine Court
Ethandirill felt lightheaded. His brother abhorred him, and their small truce had been broken when he’d chosen Nanette over his bloodline. He had given up years upon years of his life and had sacrificed his nearly immortal state for her, the cost of bringing her back from the brink of death. As he held her against him and comforted her, though, Ethandirill knew he’d made the right choice. For all his brother’s power, Nauberon would never know happiness like Ethandirill had with her.
Nauberon was still searching the room for whatever he needed. He had to touch every object because Babayaga had spelled them all to look different. He’d told them as much when Nanette had offered to help. Ethandirill had nearly punched him when he’d treated her with distain of a lesser being—as though her offer of help disgusted him. Before Ethandirill had formed a retort, Ki had put him in his place by reminding him without Nanette’s help he’d still be stone. That had mollified his brother—for now. Not to mention right now they all had bigger problems—and he had antlers.
His gaze wandered to Elisabeth. Her skin was nearly as pale as snow, and her hair was silvery blond. It was strange to have admired its sunshine brightness and to see it now reduced to this. The contrast of Ki’s dark locks to hers made its paleness only more pronounced. Ethandirill suspected that if she survived, Elisabeth would be forever changed.
Nauberon stopped searching and looked across the room toward Elisabeth. He hurried to her side and held a hand over her. Ki looked ready to kill him but did nothing. Of them all Nauberon was the strongest and most likely to know what was going on.
“She’s passed the test,” Nauberon said. He retracted his hand and stood to his full height. He looked…impressed.
Elisabeth’s eyes opened slowly and color returned to her cheeks. Her hair remained pale, but she looked like she was returning to consciousness. Ethandirill sighed with relief, and Nanette gave a happy cry. Elisabeth turned her head toward Ki, a slow happy smile spreading across her face. She reached a hand out, and he took it without hesitation.
“You’re alive,” Elisabeth whispered, her voice hoarse.
Ki touched her cheek. “So are you.”
Her gaze shifted to Nauberon and she tried to sit up with Ki helping her. Nauberon took a step back, watching her closely. His expression made Ethandirill’s eyes narrow. There were very few things Nauberon feared, but Ethandirill could see in his features hints of dread.
“Is the Upside-down the same?” Nauberon asked.
“The what?” Elisabeth asked as she finished sitting up and put a hand to her head.
“The place where the spirit of Morhaven resides,” Nauberon said, and Ethandirill watched something pass between them. “Hani’sun Mahavoril.”
“The yellow path still exists,” Elisabeth shot back. She seemed irritated. Though Ethandirill had no idea what they were talking about, he knew he wasn’t the only one not following the conversation.
With a final veiled frown Nauberon returned to his search. Nanette threw her arms around Elisabeth. They hugged, and Nanette cried. Elisabeth comforted her as Ethandirill and Ki waited patiently.
“I thought you were dead,” Nanette wailed.
“Shush, it’s going to be all right now,” Elisabeth said, though Ethandirill couldn’t see how. “I know what I have to do.”
They all turned to her as though she’d grown two heads. Even Nauberon stopped his search, still holding a book in his hand. Ethandirill felt all of the hair on his arm stand on end.
“Elisabeth?” Ki asked, “what do you mean?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Elisabeth said as she slowly extracted herself from Nanette’s embrace, “but first King Nauberon needs something.” She glanced at what he was holding. “Unless it is those letters.”
Ethandirill looked at the leather-bound book and back at Elisabeth. Nauberon held up the book higher. “You can see what it really is?”
“Yes,” Elisabeth replied after a short hesitation. She stood. “Now what are you looking for?”
Nauberon set down the letters that had been enchanted to appear as a thick book. “A jar. It will contain a heart that looks like it is made from roots.”
Nanette grimaced. She turned to Ethandirill for an explanation, but he didn’t have one. He’d never seen the thing his brother was talking about, nor did he know what it did.
Elisabeth started going through the rows and rows of shelves, searching for what Nauberon wanted.
“A heart?” Ki asked what they all were thinking, “Why do you need a heart?”
Nauberon hesitated, and suddenly Ethandirill understood. “It’s your mother’s heart.”
His eyes shot over to him. “Yes.”
“Brother, no,” Ethandirill said, moving forward. “You cannot let her out.”
“That thing is not my mother. She once was, but no longer. I need its strength,” Nauberon replied sounding like the words pained him.
“Our father barely survived her. You know what she became when she died,” Ethandirill said.
Elisabeth stopped her search. “What is she?”
Nauberon pointed at him. “Speak not of her,” he said, his voice layered with power and the barest of emotion.
Ethandirill felt the words and the truth catch in his throat—of the monster Nauberon’s mother had become. He tried once to speak and then again before giving up. He gritted his teeth in anger. Only his brother had that power over him, and he had used it more than once. Ethandirill wanted to punch him again.
“You must tell me,” Elisabeth said, “or I will raze everything here.”
Nauberon stepped toward her. She threw up a shield and took a step back. He reached out, his hand passing through her shield and toward her throat. Ki jumped into action, daggers in hand as he moved toward Nauberon, but Ki only made it two steps before Nauberon made him stop with one word. Ki was frozen in place.
“You will do what I ask,” King Nauberon told her.
Elisabeth glared. “You do not scare me any longer. You will tell me what I’ve asked, or I shall destroy it all.”
Ethandirill moved Nanette behind him as Nauberon wrapped his hand around Elisabeth’s throat. “I could kill you,” Nauberon said, as she put her hands on his wrist, “with my hands or a word.”
“True,” she answered, her voice oddly calm, “but not before I drain you.”
The beautiful tan skin of his hand and arm were suddenly colorless. Nanette gasped, and Ethandirill stared in awe. They watched as the white spread up his arm. Elisabeth�
�s eyes glowed blue as the bleaching power spread. This was her power, the one that drained life and color from whatever she touched. Nauberon pulled his hand back with a stunned expression. No half-breed or mortal had ever threatened a Det Morian as Elisabeth just had.
“You have been blessed,” Nauberon said, holding his colorless hand in his other one, like one would hold a wounded appendage.
“Yes,” Elisabeth replied. “I have a plan, but I need something strong enough to wound Arawn. Now tell me what is she? What is Ethandirill’s mother and why do you need her hear?”
They all heard and were shocked. “Wound him?” King Nauberon’s voice was filled with the same disbelief Ethandirill felt.
“I was told he cannot die,” Elisabeth answered, sounding unhappy. “Instead I intend to banish him to a place and take away his means of escape. I need a powerful being for that.”
Nauberon considered her words. “My mother is a Chanekue,” he said.
“I read about them,” Ki said. “They are wraiths that can scare the souls of their victims from their bodies. Their only weaknesses are Soul Collectors.”
Nauberon glared, and Ethandirill considered punching him. First of all because he just wanted to do it, and secondly because it might knock some sense into him. A Chanekue was more than just a wraith, not to mention that it had all the power of the Det Morian blood behind it. Soul Collectors could put the souls back in the victims of Chanekues and undo what the Chanekues had done. To defeat them Soul Collectors could also trap Chanekue’s disembodied spirits back in their corporeal bodies by ripping out their hearts. The creature that was his mother was more danger than she was worth.
“Tell them why it is worse,” Ethandirill explained.
“My mother had Det Morian blood,” Nauberon explained. “She has more power than just one wraith.”