It’s as the Keeper said. The rules are different here.
Will it ever heal? Or will it feel like this forever, the pain slowly seeping deeper and deeper into me? What else is looming out there in the Nethers waiting for us? Can I die here? The possibility sinks into the pit of my stomach like a brick. I’m too close to freedom to let it happen now.
And under this fear is another question, whispering to me with a tingling thrill: What of the box? Are its rules different here too? My fingers itch to pull it out and see, but not now, not here, not in front of the Keeper.
“I ought to call the demons to come take you away right now,” he says.
I say nothing. It would be better at least than forcing me from the realm.
“They would be quite pleased with me if I brought you to them,” he prods again. “It’s what I’m here for.”
A creaky grin spreads across his face, revealing a spread of yellowed, cracked teeth.
“However, I think I might help you instead.”
Help me? Him? Every particle within me resists this idea. But who knows how long it could take me to find Rona without him in this abyss? Maybe it would be good to have someone who knows this strange realm on my side. But still something nags at me.
“Why?” I ask.
“Let’s just say I have scores to settle,” he says, wringing his bony hands. His eyes narrow. “But if I do help you, what do I get for it?”
My hope drops.
“I have nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” he snaps. “There is so much old magic coming off you I can practically see it.” His eyes drift, landing again on my cloak pocket.
It twists inside me like a knife. He knows.
I’m caught. I reach into the cloak’s inner pocket and pull out the box. “This is what you sense.” I hold it out for him to see.
“Oh yes,” he eyes it greedily. “Give this to me and I will take you to where this soul is that you seek. Or at least, where she would be, if she is still in the Nethers.”
The Nethers? But this is not the point, not now.
“I cannot give it to you.” Frustration trembles through my fingers and I feel an urge to crumble the box to pieces. But can I, here? Could I just hand it over and walk away? But there’s no finding out right now.
Even if I could, something in me snarls at the idea of giving it to him, this strange devious man. This box, whatever is in it, it’ powerful. And it craves to be set free. For the first time, watching the hungry look in the Keeper’s eyes, I wonder why. My gut says I’ve been forced to guard it so carefully for a reason. It could be dangerous, and whether I’m still bound to it or not, I’m responsible for it. I couldn’t bear to be responsible for any bad that comes from it, too, it I were to hand it over to someone with the wrong motives. All these new things swirl around inside and implode on my craving to be set free.
“Then I cannot help you.” The Keeper shrugs and makes a show of turning back toward the boat.
Out in the dark abyss the moans and cries are rising again. Trying to find my way through it alone feels impossible.
“Surely there is something else I can give you.”
He walks back, an assured grin on his face. “No. I want the magic.” His hand drifts thoughtlessly toward it. I snatch the box away.
“Touch it and I will be forced to kill you.” I growl it with dark animosity. He needs to understand, he needs to fear it. He needs to keep away from what is mine.
Instead, he laughs.
“Kill me? I cannot be killed. I am immortal. The one and only immortal man.” His pride sputters into bitterness.
Miriam gasps. Her face clouds and she steps away from us. They stare each other down, the Keeper gritting his teeth.
“What?” I ask. “Miriam. What’s wrong?”
The small strange man clenches the staff. Miriam’s hands ball into fists. I step between them. “Miriam?”
Miriam jolts back to herself and turns to the Keeper. “We’ll do it. We’ll give you the box.”
The Keeper cackles with delight.
My insides go cold. “But—”
Miriam quiets me. “Not now,” she whispers.
The Keeper stretches out his hand for the box. I stare down at his outstretched palm and the words catch in my throat, I don’t know what to say, what to do. Miriam steps in front of me and pushes his arm away. “You think we will just hand it over so you can run away and abandon us? Bring us to her. Then you can have it.”
“Fine.” He pulls his hand away with a grimace. “If this woman you seek is still out here in the Nethers, she’ll be in the Pit.”
He used that word before, Nethers. This time I demand explanations. “The Nethers? The Pit?”
“The Nethers,” Miriam gestures out to our surroundings. “The outer rim of the Underworld. Where the lost spirits roam.”
Is that what I keep hearing, the groans of the lost?
“And you’ll see what the Pits are when we get there,” the Keeper grumbles. “This way.”
He points off into the forest of stony pillars. Then he turns and heads into it, without checking to see if we follow. It’s dark and oozing with haze. Soon he is swallowed up by it, and the only sign of him is the crunch of his footsteps against the pebbled ground.
I fasten my blade back into the hilt and start after him, but Miriam grabs my arm. “I can’t explain right now, he’s too close. But, it’s better to keep him in our sights, even if it means making false promises. Trust me.”
Then she follows the Keeper into the forest.
Before I go after them, I look back to the river one last time. My shoulder throbs. How I ache for my small, safe temple room back in Epoh now.
Chapter 15
THE FOREST IS empty, far as I can see. Which is not far with the thick haze that hovers all around. It is darker in this hollow than on the river. No water to reflect the dim light. Just flat earth and bald sky. Miriam’s soft glow stands stark against the dim barrenness. Our only light as we follow the Keeper through the pillars.
Every step twinges in my shoulder. And every twinge reminds me the rules are different here, and pulls my mind back to the box. Am I still bound to it as I am in Terath?
Miriam meets my pace and walks at my side. I tuck away the question for later.
“My mother.”
Her voice is low and small in the quiet. The only other sound is the soft padded tread of the Keeper ahead of us, that and his shallow panting breaths.
“What?”
“You asked how I knew about the beast in the river. It was my mother. She taught me all the beasts from the legends of the Underworld—both of us. How to identify them, how to kill them.”
It fits. The prayers she taught Jordan, the rituals. “But why? Jordan didn’t know.”
Miriam’s nods. “We didn’t want to put too much of a burden on him. He’s still so young.” Her eyes drop to the ground. “And now it’s too late, I can’t tell him, ever.”
“Tell me. I will take your words back to him.”
Up ahead the Keeper hums to himself as he weaves through the stony pillars. I try to keep my voice low. Something tells me to keep him out of this.
“You have to understand. By the time Jordan was old enough to remember her, our mother, she wasn’t quite right,” Miriam shuts her eyes and sighs. “She used to protest against Epoh to return it to its original vision. For freedom. For the Gods.”
I remember when Zevach was closing his fist around Epoh. Many from among Epoh’s people fought back in those times. Before they understood all Zevach and his soldiers were capable of. Many were hurt. Many died.
“But the Silencers fought back. She’d get beaten terribly, over and over. Once one got hit in the head, too hard, and it did something to her brain. After that, she heard voices. She thought they came from the Gods,” she looks to me, her voice gets quieter. “She believed the voices told her Jordan was going to be the one the Texts foretold would lead the Gods’ army in the Third
Ream War. And she believed them. She started drilling us, preparing us for war. Teaching us the Texts and every legend, she knew. The voices took over our lives.”
War? Drills? It’s just like in Haven.
I glance ahead to make sure the Keeper can’t hear us. He darts nimbly between the pillars without looking back.
Miriam continues, “Jordan was too young to understand. But I heard what the others said about our mother, and I was ashamed and angry. I stayed away from home as much as I could… but then she got very sick. Before she passed away, she made me swear to keep training Jordan. And I did, at first just to distract him from grief… but then I started seeing it. He knew things he couldn’t possibly know. I don’t know if he’s all my mother claimed, but he is special.”
I remember Jordan, his hands spread out to me, feeling the magic radiating off him. Special.
“I had to get him out. I had to.” Her eyes blaze, bright and warm. Her soft wisp of a hand clenches onto my wrist. The frigid tension pinches in my shoulder. “The Gods sent you to us that night. You have a place in their plans, too.”
Me? No. Even if the Gods do still glance toward Terath on occasion, they don’t see me there among their own creatures. But Miriam stares at me, eyes brimming with hope, a smile on her face.
It’s too much. I look away.
“We’re falling behind,” I mumble, and quicken my pace to catch up with the Keeper. Miriam’s soft glow trails close behind me.
****
We walk on and on and on in the quiet, deep into the strange forest. Deeper than I thought possible for it to go. Dirt. Steps. Stony pillars. Maybe for days. Or at least hours. It becomes hard to tell the difference. Always the Keeper stays just ahead, keeps us chasing after his scratchy head bobbing through the pillars.
He acts stranger and stranger the farther we go. Murmurs to himself, counting out pillars, changing direction at random. Doubt begins to creep in, spreads like a weed through my mind. Does he know where he is going at all? Perhaps he has gone mad down here by himself all this time.
Or worse, it occurs to me. It could be a trap.
We can do nothing but follow. Follow and wait.
Meanwhile, the box calls to me, nestled against my chest and interfering with my thoughts. Can it open? Does it control me here like it did in Terath? The questions nag and nag and beg me to answer. Not here. Not so close to the others. I remember the hunger in the Keeper’s eyes as they drifted toward it inside my pocket.
But my fingers twitch just thinking of it.
I slow my pace. Just a little. Miriam drifts ahead of me, holding pace with the Keeper. Bit by bit, I let the distance between us grow. How far ahead do I dare let them get? Too far and I’ll lose them completely.
I wait until Miriam’s light is far away and obscured by the pillars. Until I don’t dare break off from them anymore. Then I turn my back to them and pull out the box. Somewhere in the distance, they’re already calling for me. My time is short.
Even in this dim light the box shimmers, bursts with golden magnificence.
Do I dare try to open it? Suddenly I am seized by tingling nervousness, get lost in its hypnotic glistening.
“What is that?”
I jump at Miriam’s voice, just behind me. My thick fingers fumble, the box tumbles out of my hand. How long have I been frozen here? Too long. I lost my chance. And now the box is loose, exposed, lying in wait on the ground. Her hand reaches down to pick it up.
“No!” Panic swallows me. Don’t touch it, don’t touch it. I’ve shoved Miriam away before I realize it.
She’s sprawled on the ground. My panic dissolves into stinging shame. I snatch the box away and hide it in my fist.
“I’m sorry.” I kneel to her, stretch out my hand to help her up. “Are you okay?”
“She’s fine.”
The Keeper. I whip around to face him. How much did he see? Was he right there all along? His cold expression tells me nothing. I try to cover it up.
“I’m glad you came back. Thought I’d lost you.”
He grins. Stares me down with cold eyes.
“Let’s see it.”
“See what?”
Too fast. The tense buzz of anxiety rises in my mind. I said it too fast.
“The magic you carry. You’ve taken it out. I can feel it. Now let’s see it.”
“No.”
His eyes narrow.
“Maybe,” I relent. “When we get to the Pit.”
“Maybe? Maybe next time I don’t come back for you.” He stares at me, his hand clenched tight around his staff. I stare right back. “Maybe I change my mind and tell the demons you are here.”
Hot anger creeps up my back. What choice do I have? I bring my fist to my chest, fingers clenched. “You cannot touch it. Do you understand?”
The box pulls for him, trembles against my palm.
I imagine him snatching it, my hands seizing him and ripping off his head.
It brings warm satisfaction, cold fear.
“Sure, sure,” he responds. He leans in close. His eyes are wide and hungry.
I loosen my grip and splay it out in my palm between us. It quivers, sending tiny vibrations up my arm and nipping in my aching, wounded shoulder.
And the Keeper. He leans over it, his mouth hanging open. Closer and closer and closer until his eyes are inches from it, examining the elaborate engravings. I can feel every breath he releases.
With my hand outstretched, he is closer to the box than I am. Every step, every breath, every move he makes, my muscles flinch.
Behind him, Miriam is leaning in, too.
I snap my fist closed and stuff it back into my pocket. “That’s enough.”
“Yes… yes… ” the Keeper murmurs.
But his eyes are still on my pocket.
“We need to keep moving,” I push.
He jumps as if waking. Blinks. Gives his head a shake. “Of course,” he says. “This way.”
And he is off, scurrying into the stony forest.
The dread that rises every time a human gets too close, it drops from me like a cloak as soon as the Keeper steps away. But it doesn’t leave. It’s always there, pooling at my feet, real and dense. It clings at my ankles and drags behind me with every step. Can I ever break free of it? I’ve missed my chance to find out. For now all I can do is follow and keep up. Be ready if another opportunity comes my way.
The Underworld groans and creaks around me, shifting its pieces, uneasy and restless. Up ahead, the Keeper forges through the pillars, rambling over his shoulder to Miriam. I hurry to catch up.
“—to point B. There’s no straight path, and the way is always different. Always shifting.”
I cut him off. “Shifting? The realm?”
He stops on his heel and whips around at me. In my rush to close the gap between us, I almost ram into him. “Yes. Shifting. If we walked back the way we came right now, it would be different. It’s in constant motion. Restless. And it knows you’re here. It doesn’t like it.” His expression hardens.
The air behind him twitches—or does it? I squint, stepping closer, but there’s nothing there. Suddenly the realm’s cavernous creaks and ticks feel hostile, like the realm is whispering angry things at me. Little bumps rise all up my arms.
“Then why are we following you?” Miriam demands. “How could you know the way if it is always changing?”
The Keeper turns to her, rolling his eyes. “Because I have this.” He shoves his free hand into his robe and pulls out a white stone, smooth and flat and barely the size of his palm. “Without it, you’re lost. Which means without me, you’re lost.”
Miriam leans it and studies the stone. “And what’s that?”
He blinks at her. A slow smile spreads over his face. “Well. That’s exactly what I was about to show you.”
He takes a few steps away and plants himself. Just behind him, the air glimmers, a faint disruption to the space—there is something there. I just can’t tell what.
r /> “Now keep close,” he says. I look over to Miriam and she glances back, and then shrugs—what else is there to do. We shuffle toward him.
“Closer than that—hold onto me.” He juts out his elbows toward us, and we each take hold of a bony arm.
The box quivers in my breast pocket and a twinge in my gut tells me not to trust him. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going through the glimmer.”
While he speaks, he flips the stone over between his hands, pulls us forward with him toward the glimmering air. Once, twice, three rolls of the stone and we’re in it, the glimmer is sucking us in. I’m jerked forward with a lurch, I’m squeezed flat and thin and tight until my very particles are stretched, and as the world starts to fade away to twisted streaks of darkness, I am swallowed into a deep, chilling panic.
Somewhere near me in void the Keeper whispers, “To the Crossing,” and then everything drains away into a violent swirl and it’s all I can do to cling to the Keeper’s arm with all my might.
Chapter 16
THE VACUUM SPITS me out and my body skids across hard ground.
I lay there a moment and wait for everything to stop spinning. Slowly, I become aware of the dull throbbing across my back. And the cold. A deep chill goes down to my bones. The kind Miriam gives off, but more, so much more.
Something pokes me.
“Get up.”
The voice reaches out and tugs at me with an echoing dissonance. I pull my head toward it. More spinning.
The Keeper blinks down at me in blurry double.
“What happened?” My voice sounds far away and floating, detached from my body.
“Exactly what I said. We went through the glimmer. I didn’t realize I’d be dealing with a helpless pile of dirt on the other end.”
His frowning face slowly merges into a single form.
He pokes me again with his staff. “Now get up.”
Somewhere in the background, high staccato notes poke through the air. Familiar. Miriam. I pull her words into focus.
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