The Labyrinth of the Dead (7 page)

The thing in her hand felt suddenly
heavy. "It’s made with what?"

"Souls. Same as everything on the
island. Same as the island itself. Souls." Kanika kicked the cobble loose.
"Souls." She tore a shingle from the side of the building on the corner. "The
sea was empty once and the queen forged every inch of this place herself. The
engine is made from souls and runs on souls. They are the only thing real in
this world." She dropped the shingle and it splintered as it fell, giving off a
silent wisp of light.

Portia flinched. She opened her mouth
to speak, but at that moment two figures glided around the corner. A spectral
man and woman came face to face with them and stepped back in terror. They were
murky and insubstantial, a far cry from Kanika’s
solid body and her own imposing presence. The couple turned and skimmed away,
glancing feverishly behind them. Portia took a step to follow, but Kanika
gripped her arm.

The girl raised a finger to her lips
and tilted her head to one side. From somewhere down the shadow-filled street,
Portia heard the baying of a hound. A long, low whistle followed, like the cry
of a tea kettle.

Kanika’s eyes grew wide and she whirled Portia around.
"Go!"

"Go where?"

"Away from here!" Kanika broke into a
run and Portia followed. "If the patrol catches us, it’ll be over. For us
both!"

A woman’s cry rose up through the
crooked streets, but they did not dare look back.

"Sanctuary," Kanika gasped. "Find it.
Ask the axe. It’ll know." She pointed to the coin hanging from the bottom.
"They won’t be able to follow us there!"

"Lead us to a sanctuary where we can
pass the night in safety," Portia said as she ran. The coin began to twist
slowly at first, then it arced outward, tugging at the axe-handle. It was
passing strange to watch the coin swing and pull in opposition to the jouncing
of the axe.

They ran between two tall buildings,
the tops of which had come to rest against one another, forming a large,
creaking arch. Faces pressed against the windows, gazing mournfully down at
them. The keening followed their flight, echoing harshly from every surface
around them. Whatever creature made that terrible sound was gaining on them,
and its kettle-whistle companion was not far behind.

They followed the insistent pull of the
coin through the ruined streets. They ran down wide avenues and clambered
across black gardens studded with statues. Whichever way the coin tugged, they
went, often doubling back on their trail and bringing them perilously close to
their pursuers. The crisscrossing trail seemed to confuse them. Portia silently
thanked the force at work within the coin and immediately felt a surge of
warmth flow through her.

A long row of factories rose up on one
side of the street, several of them flickering with what looked like firelight
from behind the shuttered windows. With each
flare of light, a sound—nearly beyond hearing—accosted Portia’s ears.

"Don’t listen," Kanika whispered,
pulling Portia along as she slowed her steps. "It will drive you mad."

They paused in the shadow of a building
for a moment, the sounds of their pursuers far off for the time being. "That’s
where they do it. Where they render the souls."

Kanika nodded in agreement.

"How many are consumed there?"

The girl’s eyes flickered toward the
façades and she pondered a lie. "I don’t know exactly," she said at last. "I
wasn’t among them for that long. I do know they roam every night and bring back
all that they can catch. Sometimes none, sometimes twenty, but most often about
a half dozen."

"Every night?"

"Yes. Many people die around the world
every day."

Portia shook her head. "Don’t they know
not to come here? Aren’t they warned on the shadow-side?"

"No one comes here on purpose. Except
you."

"And you."

"I was following you, Portia. Most
souls stumble here by mistake. There are so many paths to take, and her majesty
makes sure that many of them lead here."

Portia took a step toward one of the
buildings. Mortar crumbled from between bricks as the giant machinery groaned
and shuddered within. She touched the wall, feeling the vibration of the
mechanism inside, but also the gentle reverberation of the being that had once
lived and breathed.

"Each building makes a different
thing," Kanika explained. "I hear some souls are better for some things than
others. So they bring the souls in to a central hub and pipe them through
underground tubes to the appropriate factories. Some mint coins, others press
embers, but most of them are where the everyday things get made: cobbles and
fence posts and window glass." She patted the wall. "And bricks."

"Then what do they make there?" Portia
pointed to a lone structure that stood at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was as if
light itself was being drawn into its core, sucking it between each brick and
around the edges of all the windows. A faint odor of brimstone and sulphur flirted with the wind.

Kanika shook her head, withdrawing.
"Dark things, bleak things."

"Darker than creating stones and
doorknobs from souls?"

The coin yanked down on the leather cord
and the axe shaft slid against Portia’s palm. They heard footsteps, substantial
and rushed, heading toward them. There was no time to ponder the secrets behind
that imposing façade.

Beyond the row of factories, the
buildings grew smaller and shabbier, interspersed with overgrown and rotting
gardens. The coin directed them to a narrow track that cut between two of the
fields. They followed the path, tripping over loose stones and strands of
stinging vines.

A wrought iron garden gate rose up out
of the shadows, set into a wall that could have belonged to a pleasant country
estate fallen into quaint disrepair. The gracefully scalloped shape showed no
signs of decay. That immediately caught Portia’s notice. It also smelled
different. The musky, rust-tinged odor she had noticed clinging to everything
else on the island was not present here. The breeze that floated over the wall
smelled of water and freshly cut grass.

Vines had climbed onto every surface,
including the arched gate, and it took some doing to maneuver the latch without
being stung too severely. As Portia pushed open the gate, she felt another
barrier. This one was subtle, far more so than the vines. There was a ward on
the place; she could taste it like a bitter herb on the back of her tongue. It
gave no resistance as she entered the walled garden that lay beyond.

Kanika hesitated, her attention
diverted behind, her down the slope of path. The sky had darkened to a murky
mauve-brown. "They’re here, now. They’ve found us."

Following her gaze, Portia could see
the silhouettes of beings moving through the streets. They were nearly silent,
feet whispering on the stones as they passed. They seemed human in shape, but
yet they were quiet and disturbingly different somehow. These were accompanied
by the hulking shapes of what looked like large black wolves. The patrols moved
quickly through the eternal dusk. Several of them headed up the path,
accompanied by the disquieting baying of the wolf-like creature that pulled at
its chain.

Portia motioned across the threshold.
"Kanika, come on."

The girl resisted, eyes flitting
fearfully over the open gateway as if she could see the shimmering ward. "I
don’t know…I don’t know if I can cross that."

"I can’t see why not. Come on!" Portia
reached through the ward and grabbed the girl, pulling her past it before they
could be seen by the beings below.

There was a breathless moment as Kanika
fetched up against the ward like a fly in a spider’s web. Portia pulled hard
and the girl fell through the invisible shield into Portia’s arms. Kanika’s body pressed eagerly against her for a moment that
lingered just a bit too long.

"There, now. That wasn’t so hard.
You’re here where it’s safe." Portia stepped away from her and gave her a firm,
platonic squeeze of the shoulder.

"Yes," Kanika replied breathlessly.
"Safe." She glanced back at the gate. "Let’s get out of sight. I’d rather not
rouse their alarm."

Together they pushed the gate closed
and sank into the tall shrubs just within the wall. What emerged from the
darkness might have passed for human many yards away, but up close, it was a
terrifying sight: a genderless being in a stained tunic with deathly pale skin
tinged a sickly yellow. Its two eyes were gone, and in their stead a single
telescope lens had been inserted into the forehead. Portia could hear the whirs
and clicks as it focused. A metal plate fitted with dozens of small holes
covered the mouth and nose area and wheezed with the creature’s breath. The
dire hound at its side bayed again and lurched toward the gate. Its master
yanked back hard on the chain, sending the thing sprawling to the ground with a
heavy
thump
.

The telescope clicked several times as
the creature scanned the courtyard beyond the wall. It reached a hand toward
them—a hand rubbed raw and nearly devoid of skin. The tissue pulsed as it drew
near to the warded barrier, and the creature retreated a step. It rumbled low
in its throat and turned away, dragging the protesting hound.

"Herder," Kanika whispered. "That was a
herder. They are the trackers, finding their quarry and flushing it into the
open for the reapers to catch. You might outrun one of them, but not the
dire-hound." She shivered and Portia could smell true fear on her.

"Have you had a run-in with one of
them?"

"Once."

"Will it come back for us? Bring
others, perhaps?"

"No, I don’t think so. Not tonight,
anyway. There’s too much magic here. You saw its hand? When the flesh is
removed they can feel wards and bindings and such."

"Who would choose to be subjected to
that?"

The girl looked up and met Portia’s
eyes. "In the queen’s court, you serve her, you feed her, or you perish. The
most savory of these is to perish. So the choices become easier than you might
think."

"Kanika, lass, how do you know this?"

She turned her face away.

Portia softened. "Kanika…"

The girl pushed herself to her feet.
"We’ll be safe here. For as long as we stay, which could be forever, I guess,
if you wanted." Her grey eyes were almost longing as she gazed down at Portia.
"We could both stay here."

There was something innocent and
wistful in her voice just then, but it faded nearly as quickly as it had
appeared, and her eyes glittered with layers of subterfuge once more.

"You and I both know that isn’t going to
happen. I have come here for a reason. As, apparently, have you."

"You told me you’d help me."

"I told you I’d try. But you won’t tell
me what it is that I must do."

Kanika sighed and shook her head.
Something shifted behind her eyes, as if there were too many thoughts warring
for prevalence. Again, that wavering childlike quality washed over her
features. She covered her face with her hands and her whole body trembled.
After a long moment, she regained her composure.

The hairs rose on the back of Portia’s
neck. "Kanika? Are you all right?"

The girl tilted her head to the side,
sending her curls dancing over her cheeks. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Nevermind." Portia rose, deciding not to press the matter
further.

Around them grew elegantly trimmed
trees, startling compared to the brackish, overgrown roads beyond the walls.
Night-blooming flowers gleamed with dew and scented the air with a fragrance
that left a pleasant hint of vanilla on the back of her tongue. The pleasure
surprised her; it was the first time she had felt anything but dread since
coming to this place.

"Where are we?"

Kanika smiled. "We’re in a sanctuary.
This is a sacred place, a protected place." She went back to the gate and
peered out, rising on her toes to see down the deserted road. She plucked a
fat, silvery moonflower from a nearby bush and nestled it into the stinging
vines at the top of the gate. She stepped back to admire her handiwork with a
broad smile. "It’s so nice to feel safe and to be among beautiful things at
last." She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the gleaming petals before
turning toward Portia. "Besides yourself, I mean."

Two low hedges flanked the white gravel
path that led out of the courtyard toward a tall, arched bridge. Their
footsteps drummed on the wooden planks as they crested over the slow-moving
stream below. From that vantage point, the walls and trees obscured the view of
Salus and strengthened the sense of tranquility. The moonflower on the gate
seemed to glow softly. Portia smiled.

"This is a magical place. I have never
seen anything like it." The water below looked to be as dark as ink and moved
serenely with just the barest whisper as it caressed the stones.

Kanika beamed. "See, it isn’t all
dreary and awful here, is it? We could make quite a fine life here."

"There you go, again. Listen, Kanika—"

 "Portia, look!" Her small hand closed around
Portia’s wrist with surprising strength. Kanika pointed beyond the hedges,
toward a line of figures that moved on silent feet like drops of moonlight.

They were draped in gossamer veils that
hung nearly to their ankles. Beneath the veils and gowns, Portia could see that
they were human and they were women. They followed the line of the stream,
passing by on the far side of the bridge.

"Who are they?"

"This is a holy place, a place of
refuge. And they are its keepers."

Portia stood, mesmerized, as they
streamed past a few yards away. The second to the last figure swept by, sending
a storm of sensation through Portia’s body, burning her from the inside out.
Through the sheer veil, Portia could see sunset-red curls.