“Bastien!”
Relief floods me. Her voice is muffled by thick air, but she can’t be very far away. I notice a dim ring of light below—the end of the shaft.
“Jump when you reach the end of the rope!” she says.
I climb down a little farther until I’m hanging by the hook. I let go without thinking twice. I trust her.
The fall isn’t long; I don’t need to drop into a roll from the impact of landing. A moment after my feet hit the ground, Ailesse’s hand weaves through mine. I kiss her before taking a look around us. “Do you see the bridge?” I ask. We’re not closed in by tunnel walls anymore; this space is wider. She holds up the lantern. A few feet ahead, the edge of the ground falls away into a dark void.
“I think so.” She leads me twenty or so yards around the curving edge of the pit. Solid circles representing the full moon are engraved on the ground along the way. Ailesse points to the symbol of the bridge over earth at the foot of a stone pathway that stretches across the void. The soul bridge. “I can’t tell where it leads to or how far it goes into the darkness.”
I’m about to suggest we walk across it together when I see an unlit torch in a sconce behind us. I cross back to it and rub the top of its wrapped fibers. They’re coated in something sticky like pitch, but the resin smells strangely sweet. Whatever it is has kept stable for who knows how many years, decades, or even centuries.
Ailesse pulls out the candle from her lantern and hands it to me. I light the torch. The flame is strong and burns without smoking.
“Look, there are more.” She points to two nearby sconces along the wall. As we light the torches inside them, we notice others and keep walking around the circular pit, lighting all of them until the ledge ends, about halfway around. At least we can see what’s across the other side now—a curving, natural wall of stone.
It has to be about a hundred feet tall, where it blends into the cavern ceiling. The wall is pocked with boarded-up tunnel openings. Each marks different levels of the catacombs and mines above us—places that must have been carved out before people realized they’d drop off into this cavern. But the strangest thing is that no tunnel has been carved across the pit on our level.
“I don’t understand.” I scrutinize the thirty-yard-wide pit and the natural bridge that runs across it. “The bridge leads to a dead end.” There’s no wide ledge to stand on over there, like we have on this side. “What about the Gates of the Beyond that you said you have to open?”
Ailesse reverently gazes at the end of the bridge. “They won’t appear until I play the siren song.”
I nod like that makes perfect sense. I guess it will when I see them.
I study the bridge harder. It’s five feet wide—much narrower than the land bridge I caught a glimpse of during the new moon. It’s also five feet thick. Below the bridge is only air. It looks like wind or water whittled the rest of the stone away. Except there is no wind or water down here, and the rock is durable limestone, not sandstone. The thought of Ailesse standing on a bridge so thin and fragile-looking makes my pulse race.
“Do you think it’s midnight yet?” I ask her.
“Almost.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she replies without the slightest tremble. “But you need to stay on the ledge. The Chained could catch you off guard and toss you into the pit.”
I hate the fact that I can’t see these monsters.
“Be careful with that black powder, too, or you might destroy the bridge.”
I nod, begrudgingly removing the two packs from my shoulders. I set them fifteen feet back, against the far wall of our ledge. I hoped blasting the powder could help control the number of Chained on the bridge. I was going to ignite each cask, one at a time, whenever Ailesse called out that a Chained was nearby. But this ledge isn’t far enough back from the bridge to be safe. If I caused an explosion, the bridge would blast apart. “What happens if some of the dead are thrown into the pit?”
She wrinkles her brow. “I’m not sure, but they’d survive the fall. They’d climb back up, no matter how far they dropped.”
That’s comforting.
We walk back to the foot of the bridge, then stop and look at each other. Ailesse’s face is bruised and scuffed up from our fight with the Chained man. Her umber eyes have brightened to amber in the torchlight, and her lips are a darker shade of rose from kissing me. She’s never looked more beautiful.
I cup the back of her head and draw her mouth to mine. I kiss her longer than I should. I know we’re short on time, but I’m reluctant to let her go. An ominous feeling builds inside me, like this might be the last chance I have to hold her.
Finally we break apart. “Be careful,” I whisper, stroking her face. Tears burn in my eyes. I can barely hold them back.
She gives me an encouraging smile. “You, too.” And then she’s out of my arms, and the warmth of her body is gone. I feel like half of myself just walked away.
She steps onto the bridge, walks across it until she reaches the middle, and pulls the bone flute from her dress pocket. She closes her eyes for a moment, then straightens her shoulders and draws the flute to her mouth.
She looks at me one last time, gives me a wink, and starts to play.
It’s a different song than the one that lured me to her, though this one is just as haunting.
My hands ball and flex as I glance around us, waiting for some sign of the approaching dead. “Maybe you can yell ‘Chained’ or ‘Unchained’ when each soul comes, so I’m aware,” I suggest.
Her eyes lift to me, and she nods without a hitch in the song. The music soars on a high note, then lowers as it finishes the melody. Ailesse pockets the flute and stares at the dead end of the bridge.
“That’s it?” I ask. “Don’t you have to keep playing until they come?”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t like a rite of passage. This song has more power, and the dead feel it more keenly. Wherever they are, they’re already coming.”
I gnaw at my lip and stare at the massive wall. “What about the Gates?” Maybe a secret tunnel is about to carve itself out of the stone, or the wall will vanish. But neither happens.
Before Ailesse can answer me, wind bursts up from the pit, and I startle backward. Specks of dust collect in the air. They gather together and form the shape of an arched door at the dead end of the bridge.
Ailesse laughs and flashes me a wide grin. I struggle to return it. The dust of the door is black, not limestone white, and I can’t explain where the wind came from or how the dust continues to hover and swirl in a sheer veil. Everything about this place contradicts logic. I doubt even Marcel could make sense of it.
“Which Gate is that?” I ask.
“It’s visible, so it must be Tyrus’s Gate to the Underworld,” Ailesse replies in a rush of enthusiasm. “The one at the land bridge is supposed to be made of water.”
My brows tug together. I’m still caught on the word “visible.” “So the other one is invisible?”
“Almost.” She lifts on her toes and points to the right of the Gate of dust. “Do you see that silvery shimmer in the air?”
I focus, and a slight haze appears, like a smudge on a pane of glass. “A little.”
“That’s Elara’s Gate, and the twirling shimmer above it is the spiral staircase to Paradise.” She smiles even bigger. “Paradise, Bastien,” she says again, like maybe I didn’t hear her.
“Oh.” That’s my best response at the moment. My mind can’t wrap around any of this.
My eyes travel to the high stone ceiling as I strain to see the shape of the stairs, but then I catch sight of something mysterious that I can see: a strip of dried clay that runs across the center of the ceiling. It’s identical to the shape and size of the soul bridge directly below, but the clay has crumbled away in a few spots and reveals tight rows of wooden planks and dangling roots in the spaces between them.
I frown. Plants don’t grow in the mines or the catacom
bs. Which means right above this cavern is the outside world—dirt, sky, fresh air. Someone’s patched up a natural opening in the ceiling.
Ailesse clutches the pouch of grace bones around her neck and shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m here—that I’m actually seeing these Gates with my own eyes. They’re even more wonderful than the ones I imagined at the land bridge.”
I don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t call them wonderful. My father had to pass through a Gate like one of these.
She stiffens and gasps. “Do you hear that?”
I whip out my knife. “Where are they?”
“No, not the dead.” She smiles. “Another siren song. It’s coming from inside the Gates.”
I lean a little closer to the pit. “I can’t hear anything.”
She blinks slowly, her gaze lost as she listens to music that doesn’t reach my ears. “The deeper melody comes from the Underworld, but the descant rises above it from Paradise. Each part is so different, but they perfectly complement each other—one dark and one hopeful.”
I watch her as she stands, listless like she’s caught in a daydream. I clear my throat. “I’m sure all of this is amazing, but you need to get ready. A Chained soul could fly in here any moment.”
“Souls don’t fly,” she replies absently. “That’s a myth.”
“Still, you—”
Her eyes dart past me, and she’s instantly alert. “Chained!” she cries. “On your left!”
My knife swings, but I strike nothing.
“He’s on the bridge now.” She steadies her feet. “Stay back!”
She starts battling the Chained with a quick and varied series of kicks. I struggle against a fierce instinct to run to her side. She dodges blows I can’t see. She ducks and cartwheels along the side of the bridge. I begin to relax, watching how focused and skillful she is.
Damn, she’s beautiful when she fights.
“Your time here is over,” she tells the Chained. She whirls around and drives her fist into the force of a tangible body. As she continues to attack, she pushes the soul back to the end of the bridge. She delivers a final kick, this one stronger than the rest, and the black dust scatters and re-forms into an arched door.
She turns to me, her brows lifted in shock. “I did it.”
I grin. “Well done.”
She rubs her arm. “It would be easier with a staff. That’s how the Leurress are trained to ferry.”
“You’re doing just fine without one,” I say. Then I notice she’s panting, with beads of sweat on her forehead. She didn’t tire this easily when she fought the Chained man in the quarry. But then again, moonlight and starlight were shining down on her through the aviary dome.
“More are coming!” Her eyes dart around the cavern. “All of them Chained. One from the shaft. Two from the tunnel.”
The tunnel? I turn and quickly examine the wall behind my ledge. Sure enough, a tunnel leads out from a shadowy area next to the opening of the mining shaft. I race over to it, my knife raised, but a sharp blow to my stomach knocks me off my feet. “Bastien!” Ailesse cries. I fly backward and skid several feet across the ledge.
“I’m fine.” I cough and push back up to my feet. But she isn’t. From the way Ailesse twists back and forth—kicking, jabbing, punching—she’s already battling at least two more Chained.
I sprint for the bridge. I’m barely on it when I bump into something. “What are you doing here?” a man’s voice growls. “This isn’t your fight.”
I immediately plant my feet. Just as quickly, I slash my knife forward. My blade hits resistance, and I stab hard. The man hisses, drawing back. I keep striking. I parry, lunge, duck, and spin. I use every skill I’ve practiced, every varied formation, and force him backward. It seems to be working. I’m halfway across the bridge, and Ailesse has moved near the Gates.
She’s only fighting one Chained now. The other she must have already ferried to the Underworld. I swing my knife again, but the air before me is empty. I hurry forward several steps, but I still can’t figure out where my opponent went.
Ailesse makes a noise of exertion. She’s whirling back and forth, battling in front of and behind herself. Merde. The man who left me is attacking her. I run, but she shouts, “Stay back, Bastien!”
I stop a few yards away, but I can’t make myself leave.
“Please! I can handle these two.” She’s laboring for breath. Her face is flushed. “Get off the bridge!”
My blood pounds faster. Ailesse can’t fight like this much longer. She needs to channel more energy. I look at my packs. “I’ll be back soon! I’m going to blast apart the ceiling!”
She leaps over an invisible something and spares a quick glance at the ceiling. Her eyes widen. “Hurry!” She jabs an elbow behind her.
I race away, my knife swinging aimlessly in case any Chained attack. I need to ignite the powder casks before more get to Ailesse.
I grab my two packs and my lantern and sprint into the tunnel. Some of the Chained came in this way, so it has to lead outside. At any rate, I can’t jump high enough to catch the shaft rope again.
Limestone bricks line the tunnel and lead to a staircase. My legs burn as I climb each zigzagging flight to the top. There must be twice as many steps here as there are in the three stories of La Chaste Dame.
The stairs end, and I see a hatch. The Chained have already pried it open. I look above—at a clear sky full of stars and the perfectly round moon. I let out a huge breath. “Thank you,” I say to no one in particular.
I climb outside into a meadow surrounded by a thick forest. I’m standing in the middle of a circle of stones that barely rise above the wild grass. Some are engraved with phases of the moon.
My pulse races as I quickly rummage through the grass and search for the wooden planks I saw from the cavern. This is taking too long. Ailesse is probably fighting more Chained.
At last, I find a couple boards with dried clay squeezed between them. More are nearby. Soon I’m able to trace the long edge of the patched-up strip that matches the soul bridge below.
I set down my packs and remove the casks of black powder. I place three of them evenly apart along the strip. I uncork the fourth cask and spread a trail of powder that links each cask together, and from there to the edge of the meadow, several yards away.
I crouch and pull my candle from my lantern. My shaking hand makes the flame quiver. This could be disastrous. The explosion might crush Ailesse or break the bridge. But I have to risk it. She’s not going to give up now. She needs a fighting chance to finish ferrying.
I take a steeling breath, roll to the balls of my feet, and lower my candle to the trail of black powder.
A brilliant flame ignites. It rapidly snakes toward the nearest cask.
I bolt for the forest and send a prayer to Ailesse’s gods.
46
Ailesse
MY MUSCLES BURN AS I wrestle the last of the three Chained close to the swirling black dust. The man has an unrelenting grip on my shoulders. I slap the back of his elbows to stun him, and his hold on me weakens. I quickly hook my foot around his ankle and try to sweep out his legs. He doesn’t budge. My pulse throbs through my head.
He grapples for my shoulders again. I twist before he can grab me, and shove him backward. He loses his balance, but doesn’t fall. I grit my teeth and shove him again. He finally tumbles through the Gate.
I lean my hands on my knees and struggle to catch my breath.
Chazoure flares from the hole of the mining shaft. My stomach tenses. I straighten, tightening my fists. The soul drops to the ground. No, no, no. Not him. Not yet.
He leers at me. “I thought I’d find you here.”
It’s the man with the broken nose, thick arms, and chains crisscrossed over his chest.
The one I fought in the quarry. The one who invaded Jules’s body.
I swallow hard. I’m too sapped of strength. And he’s too vicious and powerful. How much Light did he steal from Jules
?
His nostrils flare, but his brow twitches when he looks past me to the Gate of dust. Its lure brought him here. “You can’t make me go to Hell. I don’t belong there.”
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. I won’t let him see my weakness. “Prove it. Take off your chains.”
He growls. He knows very well they’re irremovable. “I’ll kill you first.”
He launches onto the bridge.
I tense to spring over him with my falcon grace. I’m standing right in front of Tyrus’s Gate. If I’m quick enough, I can roll aside and he’ll barrel through.
In mere moments, he’s upon me. But he’s veering toward Elara’s Gate. I dive to block him, but even with my graced reflex, I’m too slow. He catches my leg. The sudden stop throws him off balance. He’s going to fall and pull me with him through the Gate. I kick and thrash. Adrenaline pummels through me, but I still don’t have the strength to overpower him. He doesn’t let go. He steadies himself and drags me up to my feet. His meaty hands have a vise grip on my arms.
“You’re the one who doesn’t deserve Paradise.” His breath is rancid. Chazoure spittle flies from his mouth. “Would you like to meet your own Hell? Look below.” I don’t. I know what I’ll see—a torturous drop into nothing. He sneers. “I’ll send you there.”
He moves to hurl me off the bridge. I fight to anchor my footing with my ibex grace, but he’s too strong. I fumble to unsheathe my knife. Just before the Chained throws me, I stab him in the stomach. He roars out in pain and releases me. I land ten feet back on the bridge, just shy of falling off the edge. My sixth sense weakly patters a warning, and I scramble to stand. The Chained is already running for me, his face ferocious.
“Goodbye, Bone Crier.”
I’m going to die.
Bone Crier's Moon Page 30