Darkness Falls (DA 7) (5 page)

As the pulsing got stronger, light began to flare softly across the building’s warm surface. Ripples of energy rolled away from my touch, growing ever stronger, until the whole building seemed to shimmer. Then a black crack appeared to the right of my fingertips. It bloomed rapidly across the surface, until it had formed an inky stain the size of a basketball.

In,
Amaya said.
Hunt we must.

I’m not going to fit—

Will,
she cut in.
Believe.

Azriel had urged the same thing, but it was kinda hard to do when the world kept sending you into a tailspin. But again, it wasn’t like I had a lot of other choices, not if I wanted to stop Malin from doing whatever she intended to do inside this place.

I gripped Amaya tighter, closed my eyes, and imagined myself arrowing through that circle.

Energy tingled through me; then there was a brief sense of movement. I opened my eyes and saw darkness. Complete and utter darkness. Not even Amaya’s flames were able to break the depressing weight of it. But I could feel her warmth in my hand, and that was at least some comfort.

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that the
Dušan was still outside, her serpentine form flowing back and forth across the entrance hole I’d created, her agitation evident in every lilac inch.

No come,
Amaya said.
Outside must stay.

“Well, that’s damned inconvenient,” I muttered, although it wasn’t entirely surprising. The Dušan hadn’t been able to enter my father’s quarters, either. “Any idea where the hell we’re supposed to go in this ink?”

Something,
Amaya said.
Hides.

My grip on her tightened.
Is it Malin?

Tell not,
she said.
Black heavy.

Where?

Left. Find will.

Yeah, I thought grimly, but will it be us finding her, or her finding us? And how the hell was I supposed to fight in this goddamn ink?

You will tell me if I’m about to crash into something, won’t you?
I said, and flowed forward cautiously.

Something suspiciously like a chuckle ran across the rear of my thoughts, although she didn’t actually answer. I held her out in front of me, so that if I
did
run into something, she’d at least hit it first. We moved through the ink for what seemed like hours, but maybe that was a side effect of having absolutely no sensory input, and no clue as to what might lie underneath night’s cloak.

Here,
Amaya said eventually.
Stop.

I did so and once again scanned the blackness around us. I still had no sense of anything or anyone . . . and yet, there was an oddly different feel to the air here. It felt . . . anticipatory.

Damn it, I needed to see!

Then lift,
Amaya said.

Lift what?
I took a step forward. Movement stirred the ink, and it wasn’t mine.

The dark.

I took several more steps forward. Again there was an
answering echo of movement, and a deep, oddly unclean energy began to stir around us. It stung my being, the sensation unpleasant.
I can’t lift this, Amaya.

Try can,
she muttered, displeasure heavy in her mental tones.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Azriel might have implied that I could use the power of this place
if
I applied myself and believed, but the whole trouble with
that
was the fact that I had no idea where to begin.

In mind,
Amaya said.
Will do.

Meaning all I had to do was imagine? That sounded entirely too easy, especially considering absolutely nothing else on this goddamn quest had been. But I resolutely closed my eyes and imagined the ink was nothing more than a suffocating fog. Then I pictured a breeze coming through and scattering that fog, revealing what lay underneath. I fixed the image firmly in mind, put as much belief into it as I possibly could, and literally
willed
it to happen.

For several heartbeats, nothing did. Then a strong breeze began to play through my particles and there was an odd sort of shift, as if the whole place had somehow moved. I opened my eyes and saw darkness.

But it wasn’t the ink of before.

There were shadows out there now—some humanoid, some reptilian or animal, and some that bore striking similarities to the Aedh. And there were all sorts of flora, round spheres that resembled planets in miniature, and many other things that had absolutely no resemblance to anything I’d ever seen before. It was almost as if this place was some sort of monument to all the things that lived and breathed, as well as all those that didn’t.

Creation’s reference library, perhaps?

But why in the hell would Malin come here?

“To destroy creation, of course,” came the amused
reply. “Or, at least, the part of it that references the temples and the gates.”

I swung around, my fingers automatically tightening against Amaya’s hilt. Malin strolled out from behind some kind of stone crustacean, her golden wings little more than gossamer wisps in this place and her body even less defined. But the malevolence that oozed from her being played across the shadows and made it hard to breathe.

You don’t need to breathe here,
I reminded myself fiercely.
You are energy, and of this place now.

Malin laughed, the sound cutting. “You can never be of this place, little Risa. Do not believe the reaper’s lies, because they will get you killed.” She paused, and I had an odd sense that she was smiling—a cool, cold, cruel smile—even if I couldn’t see it. “Of course, it is not likely you are going to survive this encounter anyway.”

“One of us certainly won’t,” I replied evenly. “But then, it’s not actually me you have to fear, Malin. It’s the remnants.”

She was still moving toward me, her pace even, measured. As if she had all the time in the world and absolutely nothing to fear.

I frowned. Something wasn’t right . . . I swung around and raised Amaya. She connected with something solid and sparks flew, briefly highlighting the long length of blade that had almost chopped me in two. Amaya’s flames crawled down its length, but there was nothing and no one holding the other end. Nothing but darkness itself. Amaya hissed, the sound of displeasure.

Cannot eat,
she muttered.
Of this place.

Of this place?
The thought died as awareness surged. I shifted sideways sharply, felt the air recoil as a fist the size of a car smashed down on the spot I’d been standing in a second before.

A
fist
. Fucking hell, she was bringing the things that were held in this place to
life
.

“The remnants cannot hurt me,” she said. This time, her voice was coming from the left, even though her shadowy form still approached from directly ahead. “They dare not. Not in this place.”

I flung Amaya at the Malin I could see, then closed my eyes and imagined myself standing behind the one I couldn’t. There was a brief snap of movement; then malevolence hit me like a punch to the gut and it was all I could do not to exhale in pain. I clenched my fist and swung, as hard as I could. Felt the burn of electricity across particle fingertips as I connected with something—or someone. Heard her grunt before the sense of malice was abruptly ripped away.

I’d hit her. I’d actually
hit
her. And if I could do that, then I sure as hell could do more.

I opened my hand, felt Amaya thud into it, then imagined myself standing behind Malin again. This time, however, she was ready for me. Shadowed lightning arced toward me, the heat of it so fierce every particle burned. I flung out a hand, imagined a shield, and there was one. The lightning hit it and bounced back to its source. Malin swore and disappeared into the shadows again.

Behind!

Fear surged. I jumped high, flipped around, and swung Amaya as hard as I could. Black steel connected with bloody red and sparks flew, bright fireflies in which I briefly glimpsed Malin’s eyes.

And saw only madness.

She would destroy this place, destroy two worlds, and even all creation itself, if that was what it took to achieve her goal of freedom. I couldn’t fight that. No one could. No one but the remnants, perhaps.

But given that
they
were conspicuously absent, I had to at least try.

Malin disappeared again. I imagined myself standing to her right and swung Amaya. Once again, red steel
connected with black. Malin’s cool smile briefly flashed, and her sword became two, then three, then four and more, each one linking to the next via a fiery thread. I swore and ran backward, attempting to get away from the rapidly multiplying web of metal. Felt the sharp caress of air behind me. I dove away, but not quickly enough. Energy smashed into my particles and knocked me aside, where it pinned me, bored into me, ate at me. A scream tore up my throat, but I bit down on it hard. If she could multiply her weapons, then I damn well could, too.

But nothing happened.

Can’t,
Amaya said.
Am unique.

“Well, fuck,” I muttered, and imagined instead a fist smashing down on the source of the energy. There was a sharp whoosh of air; then the dark surface underneath me shook as something heavy hit not too far away. The energy gnawing at my particles abruptly ceased, but not the swords. They came at me, a thick rush of red that reminded me of a bloody river. I hoped like hell it wasn’t an omen, that it wasn’t
my
blood that would soon be running like a river in this place.

I imagined myself away from them, but the net of swords flung themselves at me, cutting off any avenue of escape and surrounding me in a web of needle-sharp steel. Again I tried to transport myself elsewhere, but when I opened my eyes, all I saw was the gleam of swords as their points began to slowly inch toward me.

Amaya, shield.

Flames flared from her steel, hissing and spitting against the duller red of the other swords, but they had little effect. I swore again and slashed at them. Shards of steel went flying, but for every one we shattered, two took its place.

Laughter rolled around me, a bitter, contemptuous sound. “You will die, dear Risa, as your father deserved to die. Slowly, and in great pain.” She briefly appeared
out of the gloom. “The swords will suck you dry, then spit your remnants into the endless ether; there will be no rebirth, no becoming a reaper, nothing but darkness and the knowledge that you failed.”

With that, she disappeared again. Steel slid into my foot. I swore, jerked away from its touch, and slashed down on the other weapon. Steel went flying, but once again, two more weapons took its place. More steel slid into my particles, their touch heated, foul. Desperation surged. Damn it, there had to be a way out of this! But the swords had me pinned on all sides . . . all sides but one, I realized suddenly.

I imagined a hole opening up underneath me, and a heartbeat later I was dropping down—fast. High above, steel glimmered, but they weren’t following. They simply continued their slow press inward.

Relief shuddered through me, but I wasn’t entirely sure why, given I still had a psycho bitch to stop. I imagined running after her, closing in on her, and suddenly I was. I raised Amaya and flung her. She made no sound as she cut through the shadows, but Malin nevertheless sensed her. She made a motion with her hand and a net of sliver wrapped itself around my sword and stopped her dead. Amaya screamed, the sound echoing both in my head and through the shadows.

Hurts,
she wailed.
Burns!

I swore and grabbed her as I ran past. Imagining her net free didn’t work, so I picked it away as best I could as she alternated between cursing and screaming—both in pain and for blood.

Malin was still running ahead of us. I frowned, suddenly wondering why she was actually doing that. I mean, why not simply imagine herself where it was that she wanted to be? Had Azriel somehow restricted her movements when he’d torn her concealing net away?

Movement, to my left. Before I could react, I was sent
flying. I sailed through the air and splattered against something cold and solid, then slid in a heap to its base. For several seconds I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t hear anything. My head was ringing, there were stars doing a merry dance all around me, and the darkness seemed to be moving.

I blinked. The darkness
was
moving.

I cursed and flung myself out of the way, but that shadowed, obelisk form somehow grabbed me, and once again I was sailing though the air. This time I crashed into metal, and the resulting clang was a clarion sound that cut through the darkness and stirred to life something out there in the shadows.

Up, up!
Amaya screamed.
Move must!

I tried. I couldn’t. My particles were burning and I just didn’t have the energy. I closed my eyes and imagined myself away from the obelisk. Felt an answering sense of movement, but it was neither fast nor far.

I twisted around, saw the giant obelisk with arms thundering toward me, and forced myself forward, as fast as I could. It still wasn’t enough. Not only was the thing behind me catching me, but Malin had come out of the canyons and was heading toward a single column on which stood a series of miniature buildings and two barely adorned gateways. The temples, and the gates to heaven and hell, I knew without a doubt.

In desperation, I put as much energy as I could into the need to get in front of her, to stop her. There was a sputter of movement, but before I even knew whether I’d succeeded, two bolts of lightning hit my middle and sent me flying backward—straight into the arms of the obelisk.

Malin laughed. “And so, dear Risa,” she said, as she pressed a hand against the stark white stone of the column. “You have the pleasure of watching this place die, and a moment to reflect on your failure before the creature that holds you tears you into infinite pieces.”