Chapter 18

  “So, we just press it into the center…?”

  “And the door opens.”

  “And the door opens,” Fia sighed. “Or…those two statues spring to life, tearing us to pieces and dragging our corpses off into the dark.”

  “It does seem a distinct possibility.” Malachai stood, facing the stone guardians, unable to turn his back on their watching eyes.

  “And you’re sure this is the door?”

  “It must be.”

  Fia shook her head. “There’s a lot of doors in the palace, it could be any of them, and this one doesn’t seem particularly well guarded.”

  “Unless it is” replied the rebel king, unable to look away from the grotesque shapes. “Where’s that specter of yours?”

  Ella, yes, Ella could help, unless, “She’ll come if I need her.”

  “And, what, if I need her?”

  “Then you may be left waiting.”

  “A harrowing thought indeed, but we must press forward.” Malachai braced himself, hand resting upon his hilt. “Whenever you are ready.”

  The great stone slabs stood bare before her, hewn into the mountain, there were neither seams nor hinges. Like the tunnels beneath the city, their perfection surpassed the skill of even Orent’s greatest minds, built by magic, one long lost. In their center was the keyhole.

  Fia lifted her hand, and the compass with it. The whirling rings came to a sudden halt locking into position, a perfect match to the carvings on the door. It was time.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” a voice called out. And from the shadows stepped an old man, a familiar face, it was Albrecht.

  “Albrecht, old friend.” Malachai chuckled. “You gave me quite the scare!” He waved at the statues in between them. “What do you know of these grim creatures?”

  “They won’t come,” Albrecht whispered. “Not yet anyways.” He was staring intently, eyes locked on Fia. But there was something different about them. Albrecht’s eyes were dark… olive. These were much lighter and in their strands were woven flecks of gold.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving before they—”

  “—Malachai!” She grabbed his arm, pulling him to face her. “Malachai, he is not your friend.”

  “Fia,” he took her hands gently. “I know he has hurt you… But we all fight together now. Do not let your past spoil this victory.”

  “Malachai, look at his eyes!” She pushed him past him, stepping towards the Magistari.

  “Tell me,” She cried. “What happened to the girl? What happened to Evi?”

  “Such terrible business,” Albrecht replied, head resting in the shadow of the many-armed beast. “But it had to be done, had to be convincing…”

  “Convincing to who?”

  “This was always the plan.” Malachai reached out, pulling at her shoulders. “Nothing has changed, Fia. We are all here now.”

  “You were not meant to let him through without me,” whispered the old man, his voice wavering faintly. “And yet you were about to open the door…”

  “What happens when we do?”

  Albrecht smiled. A wicked grin cut across his face. “Just as you said, the statues will crumble, and the beasts within will take us all.” The gold had taken his eyes, and they glimmered in the darkness. Their glow was all that could be seen.

  “Even you?”

  “Even me.”

  She heard a sharp gasp and Malachai stepped from behind her. “Albrecht… Albrecht come back to me, dear friend.” His eyes were clouded, and the lines in his face were set deeper and cut sharper than she had ever seen them. He was much older than she had realized and his face was twisted in sorrow.

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  “Oh, Malachai,” a dark voice crooned. “I want you to know that I truly did try to stop you. You were never meant to make it this far, but, deep down, part of me hoped you would.”

  “How long?” Malachai choked, the words dying on his lips.

  “Perhaps, since the beginning…Perhaps not until this very night. Which would be worse? I wonder…”

  “I suppose it makes no difference now.” His hand gripped tight upon the hilt of his blade.

  From the mage, there came a low rumble. Deep and raw, it grew until the still air shook with its sound, a howling wind beating against the mountain. And Albrecht fell, his body cracking on the stone floor as bone shattered and skin tore. And from behind his writhing mass, a strange moon rose in the garden.

  From his back burst great slender branches, golden thorns that climbed toward the stars before arcing at the joint, as they fell to plant upon the stone. And they lifted him, raising him high, into the night, until his figure was lost in a halo of false light.

  Malachai drew his blade, and with it a second moon rose, its silver light racing to meet the gold.

  Suddenly, a shadow loomed before them, swallowing the light. It was a monstrous creature with many legs. Its splayed limbs twitched, and then it jerked, scuttling toward them, Albrecht’s limp corpse swinging with each step.

  “Ella!” Fia cried, and Ella was with them, her shields glowing in a flash of light as they spun in the air.

  The spider came for them, crawling to the edge of the light, where it settled, curling around its perimeter. Slowly, it stretched out its limbs, creeping over the orb and pushing inward. As its barbed legs sank through the surface and gold touched gold the shield parted, recognizing the beast as one of its own and welcoming it into the fold.

  It was only then that the spider struck. Falling upon them in a storm of gilded spears. The first pierced Ella, stabbing through her and nailing her to the stone. Slumped over, the specter began to melt, and the spider grew, feeding on its aureate light.

  Malachai swung his blade, and as silver met gold, there came a shriek. And the beast collapsed, stumbling back as a leg fell from it.

  With a cry, he charged after. Steel glimmering as he hacked and cleaved, dancing through the chitinous snare. It pulled tighter and tighter, reaching for his throat. But the spider could not touch him. And his sword sang, one limb falling, then another, like crooked branches lost in a storm.

  He struck it down, and it lay among the rocks, legs pulled back, curling towards the sky. And Albrecht was there, cold and still. But as Malachai approached, his head lifted from the ruin, eyes turning to meet him. The rebel king froze, caught in their web. They were not Albrecht’s eyes, but the Magistari could still be seen in their golden lattice. In its many windows, each a memory, a reminder of the man he had been. And Malachai stayed his hand, his sword falling as he wept.

  “Albrecht…”

  Albrecht rose, face contorting into a gruesome sneer. He walked to Malachai, speaking softly, arms outstretched.

  “No!” Fia screamed. She raised her staff, sending spears of light flying through the air. But the gold passed right through him. As it did, he turned to her eyes gleaming.

  “Wait,” he rasped. “Wait and you may yet survive this.”

  A flash, another volley. And then laughter, shrill and piercing.

  “Foolish girl!” He held Malachai, lifting him by the neck. “What more proof do you need? Your spells are of no use against one such as I!”

  “Malachai!” She screamed. “Malachai! It’s not over!” But there was no answer. The man hung slack, strung up in the spider's hooks.

  “A sad end, indeed.” As he spoke, his thin arms began to turn, spinning the rebel, weaving a golden silk around his flesh. “But, the more we talk, Fia, the longer he will live.”

  “Talk?”

  “Indeed.” The voice whispered, a familiar voice, where had she heard it before?

  “About what?”

  “I have been looking for someone just like you.”

  “Someone like me?” Slowly, carefully, she began to inch away from him. If she could just keep him talking for a little longer… “Why?”

  He paused, limbs frozen mid-turn. “On the river, I sensed something in you. Something old. A magic. Older than our world. I must know what it is.”

  “Why would I tell you?” She reached out, one hand behind her back, fingers brushing over the smooth stone, feeling for the grooves.

  “I have much to offer, Fia, most of all to one like you.”

  There it was. The stars, the runes, deep trenches in the stone. The keyhole. She pulled her hand back, slipping it into her pocket and taking hold of the compass.

  “A sister, perhaps.”

  She froze.

  More laughter.

  “It seems I do have something to offer you. That is good.”

  He couldn’t— could he? They weren’t real. That was what Timor had said.

  “What do you know of my sister?” The words just slipped out of her.

  “Sophie? She is one of mine. You could join her if you wished. In exchange, you need only lend me your eyes for a time. It is a trade I promise none have regretted.”

  Fia’s heart raced. The pounding drummed in her ears. She needed to think, needed a moment.

  “What about him?” She pointed at Albrecht. “I don’t think he would have wanted to his.”

  “Oh Fia, I don’t think you know what this man wanted. He was the sort to hide himself away. Many would have been disappointed to see his true nature.” The spinning stopped, and Malachai was gone. And the spider began to walk, stalking her down. “Albrecht came to me willingly and was given all he asked for.”

  At that moment the pounding ceased. And it came to her. A calm understanding. He had no power here.

  “You don’t understand my magic,” she breathed.

  “What?”

  “Are you even aware of what is happening to us?”

  His head tilted, eyes searching her face. But they had gone dark, their luster dulled by confusion.

  “Happening?”

  “We are in a loop.” And she spun, thrusting the charm through the keyhole.

  “Girl no—”

  The doors crumbled. Light of every color burst through the cracks and there was a scream. Now was her chance. The only answers she could find in this world were through that doorway. Behind her, the great statues sprang to life, clawing at the spider, tearing into him, devouring his gold amidst the falling rock.

  Fia stepped through the door.

  Cycle: Timor 3-3