Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (38 page)

“Absolutely not. That house has to be monitored by Stelians at this point. I doubt they expect you to return, but Carden will have scouts there just in case.”

“If Dad’s still caught in Deidre,” she continued, not listening, “what happens if she dies?”

“All the souls she has trapped will be released.”

“Then I’m going to kill her.”

He took a shaky breath. “I understand that hatred. I really do. But it can be consuming. Trust me. Deidre is also incredibly strong. To put it in perspective, she’s the only isen I’ve met and not killed. Ever.”

Kara wasn’t listening.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the grasses dance in the night breezes. She massaged her temples.

“So isen can change their shape to be anyone, right? Anyone they’ve stolen?” she finally asked, trying to piece together the new information with what she already had.

“Yes. If an isen steals your soul, it takes your skills, your looks, your powers—everything, right down to the last thing you wore. They can take on your appearance at will and use your magic at any time. They are the worst kind of enemy.”

“Are they all evil?”

“Most of them are just insane. They have to steal a soul every decade or so to maintain their immortality, and if they ever stopped stealing, they would eventually grow old and die. But having all those souls in one body makes them go slowly crazy. All of the eldest isen are mad, simply because they store so many souls within them. A lot of isen don’t last longer than about a thousand years, because they accidentally kill themselves doing something stupid. Niccoli is the exception. I don’t know how he has maintained his sanity enough to still lead a guild.”

“Maybe he hasn’t.” Kara shrugged and lay back on the grass. “Why aren’t there legends about these things?”

“There are plenty of creatures based on isen, just nothing quite like them. Anyone who sees an isen is stolen or killed, with a few rare exceptions”—he glanced over to her to prove his point—“so there isn’t much to go on.”

She whistled and stretched out, the soft grasses by the tree tickling her neck. Ourea was one hell of a place.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

THE KINGDOM OF LOSSE

Kara didn’t sleep.

The bright moon broke in speckled waves across the meadow, illuminating the freckles on Braeden’s face. He tossed and turned in his fitful dreams, half waking each hour to murmur and turn over, but at least he didn’t change form again.

The griffin moved closer about an hour after Braeden fell asleep and now sat at Kara’s feet. Only its feathers and fur, which bent in the wind, moved. It watched the forest as if something was coming, its neck arched toward a silent threat she couldn’t see. Her muscles tightened. She thought she could sense the lingering tension, too, but figured it was probably just the motionless beast in front of her that made her uneasy.

A thin halo of the morning sun appeared on the pink and yellow horizon and its first ray fell squarely on Braeden’s forehead. He opened his eyes as if it had poked him.

“Did you sleep?” he asked, stretching.

“No.”

“I would’ve taken watch, if you were worried.”

She stood without answering and rolled up the blanket he’d given her the night before. Her exhaustion was biting, but somehow refreshing. For the first time, she began to truly feel the weight in the woods, the strain on the sky, but the sun didn’t dissolve all of the tension like she’d imagined it would. The world was prepared for something she still couldn’t see, and that understanding both unsettled and calmed her.

They packed without speaking, and it wasn’t until she pulled herself on to the griffin that Braeden spoke again.

“Kara, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Trudge through these hoops as if you care about our problems. These are our battles, not yours. I know you feel responsible, since you’re the Vagabond, but that doesn’t make you a slave to a world that doesn’t want you.”

“I have nothing to go back to,” she said, her eyes stinging from the lack of sleep. “Ourea really is all I have left. This place is haunting, and even if I could somehow go back to my old life and never be hunted again, I could never stop dreaming about it. This is my home now. I’ll fight to keep it safe if that’s what it takes.”

“We’re lucky, then.” He smiled and patted her ankle before jumping into the seat behind her and leaning against her back for balance. The griffin took a running start, beat its wings, and lifted them into the air.

Kara and Braeden flew until midday, long after a massive waterfall dissolved into view. It fell in a thick sheet over the sheer cliff, consuming at least a half mile on the broad mountain side, and even though they flew for hours, they seemed to never get any closer. The roar of its cascading water beat on the wind, drowning out the whistle of the air with its deafening thunder. Braeden tapped her shoulder when they were finally close enough to land and gestured to a wide walkway that led behind the waterfall.

“That will take us to the caves.”

There wasn’t enough space for them to land on the walkway itself, so the griffin flew to the top of the cliff to let them off. It nudged Kara’s back and lingered, so she scratched its chin again. It dissolved into a thin funnel of dust at her touch and disappeared into the afternoon light, leaving her to hope that it had returned to the Grimoire and not disappeared forever.

They walked down the path that led behind the waterfall. There was no cave like she’d expected—just solid rock behind the pummeling water. Nestled into that rock was a lichgate, woven from thin, sprawling vines rooted in the cliff. The entry was small, about the size of a doorway, and its vines sloped without purpose in an odd, crooked frame that led to the muted gray depths of a cave. They walked through and she tried to ignore the telltale flash of blue light and the kick in her stomach.

The cave wound on for what felt like ages, growing darker with each echoing step. A small gray flame erupted in Braeden’s palm and illuminated the lifeless tunnel when the light from the lichgate disappeared behind them. Kara hung at his side, close enough to feel his body heat through his sleeve. She was trying to think of something to say to fill the echoing darkness when they turned a bend, and the tunnel opened out onto a brilliant morning. She blinked in the sudden sunlight and lifted her hand to shield her eyes until they could adjust.

Their tunnel continued, but one side had long ago broken away to reveal another stunning waterfall that pulsed overhead. A four-foot wall was left to act as a guardrail between the walkway and the falls, but it was thin and mostly useless. Water pooled in tiny, unavoidable ponds along their path, soaking their pant hems with the waterfall’s excess. Hundreds of feet down, a river tumbled away from the base of the waterfall, flowing its way through a teeming forest. After a few miles of green canopy, a thick line of white beach spread beneath them, and from there, an ocean stretched to the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. Braeden nodded in agreement.

They walked in single file along the far side of the wall to avoid slipping. The falls drowned out conversation, so she enjoyed the view. The salty zing of the water vapor snapped her from her exhaustion, and she was too consumed with her sightseeing to notice that Braeden had stopped. She bumped into him and teetered off balance, leaning toward the open tunnel wall, but he grabbed her waist to steady her. She blushed as he pulled her back on her feet, and she hated herself for the heat that raced to her cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice.

“This is it, Kara.”

He let her go and pointed down another tunnel. A faint green light radiated from hundreds of tiny crystals lining the passage walls. She went in first. As they walked deeper into the mountain, the sunlight and the roar of the water faded. The crystals were more than enough to light the way.

“Kara, stop for a minute. Don’t look behind you.”

“Um—okay.”

Naturally, a tingling sensation burned through her like a finger poking her head, begging her to look because he told her not to. The hair on her neck tickled, and she longed to turn around to see why he was shuffling about behind her.

“All right,” he finally said. “We can keep going.”

She relented to her urge to turn around. A tall, thin, and very blue creature with a white shell necklace blinked down at her, his giant green eyes the color of seaweed. Her chest panged in surprise.

“A warning would have been nice, Braeden.”

He made a gurgling noise that she figured was laughter. It was faint and soothing, like shallow water over river rocks.

“Sorry,” he said, starting again down the passageway.

After only a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel bent around a corner and opened into a vast cavern. Kara whistled and craned her neck to see the ceiling, which loomed more than a mile above them. The massive space echoed with disembodied whispers.

Hundreds of small breaks in the roof served as skylights, illuminating the breathtaking scene frozen into one of the cavern’s walls. The Grimoire’s drawing hadn’t done the real thing any justice.

At least a hundred dragons circled a single man, all of them embedded so deeply in the rock that they looked like carvings. They rose to the ceiling, circling and snarling. Bubbles of rock rose from the wall in immobile flames that roared from the beasts’ gaping mouths. Tails curled around claws, teeth shone in jagged spikes, and lidless eyes glared down at the newcomers in the tomb.

Kara stepped into a puddle, which snapped her attention away from the wall. Dozens of small streams burrowed through the cavern, bubbling and churning on their way through their shallow riverbeds. They intertwined here and there, so that the end result was an elaborate combination of raised islands amidst foot-deep water that ambled toward a wide lake. The lake spanned the width of the cavern, its water deep, but more of the green crystals illuminated its depths where the sunlight failed.

“That yakona was the last Blood of the Retrien kingdom.” Braeden nodded to the man frozen in the middle of the dragons. The Blood’s sword was raised above him, and a thin beam of rock ran upward from the blade’s tip into the dragons above. His face was a snarl, all the color and life long gone.

“Yeah, I read about him,” Kara said

“His entire bloodline was lost when he fought the dragons, so I doubt he meant to freeze himself in there.”

“Where did his people go?”

“Those that survived the battle vanished.” He shook his head, disappointed. “They were brilliant fighters and yet, they advocated peace and understanding. Force was always a last effort. Of all the kingdoms, they should have been the last to disappear.”

The hair on her neck prickled, like someone was watching her.

“Maybe they’re not altogether gone.” She glanced back at the lake, the watched feeling seeping into her shoulders and down along her spine. Shadows flickered through the green glow in the water.

“What is that?”

“The Lossians are here,” Braeden said. “They must have been waiting for you.”

More and more bodies blocked the rich green glow, until the lake’s clear depths plunged into darkness. The giant blue orbs of Lossian heads—some bald, others with shoulder-length black hair—began to break through the surface, all with identical seaweed-green eyes.

The army waited while a single Lossian swam forward and walked onto the shore. He was about Braeden’s height, his thin form slightly more defined, and his bare webbed feet dripped over the rock as he approached. He smiled and the pointed grin of his mouth stretched from ear to ear in a long, curved line that reminded Kara of the Cheshire cat. His uniform was tight and gray, just one solid piece of fabric that reached from his elbows to his knees. Black stripes ran diagonally across his arms, and a matching black belt with a pack on it looped around his waist.

“Welcome, young lady.” He glanced to Kara, his eyes passing her over just as quickly as his words. He bowed to Braeden and smiled. “And welcome, my brother! I am Duke Trin, and I’ve come to see the Vagabond to the kingdom of Losse. Tell me, has he been delayed?”

Kara forced a stiff laugh and resisted the deep urge to sigh.

“I’m the Vagabond,” she said.

“We—” Duke Trin lost track of his words and froze, his mouth unhinging to gape at her for a few long seconds before he recovered and reigned-in his jaw.