Chapter 29

  She was gone. Not back in the walkway, not down in the courtyard. Gone.

  “Cari?” Fia whispered. “Cari, where are you?” Dread filled her as the pale moon rose. Something had taken the girl. Her eyes fell on the hanging gates. Riddled with tiny mollusks and rotting from within, Cari must be behind them, somewhere in the keep. But she could not reach her until she dealt with the praying men.

  Fia strode down the steps into the moonlight. Lifting her staff, she sent golden spears flying towards the backs of the drowned faithful. Their prayers, cut short, interrupted by gurgled screams as she nailed them to the pillars that lined the inner court.

  But there were many, and more of them. They rose silently, white cloaks billowing in the ghost of an old storm. They drew their blades, rusted steel, soaked in brine, and bejeweled in vivid hues of brilliant twisting coral.

  They charged her.

  Another flash. More spears. More choking gasps. But for each one that fell, it seemed that two more sprang up to take their place.

  As they grew close, she slammed her staff into the stone. The golden shields began to spin around her. Line after line, the faithful threw themselves against the barrier, howling as they broke upon it, seared against its flame. Their corpses piled high in its glow. And behind her, from her shadow, slipped Ella. She shimmered softly in the aureate light, an echo of long-lost gold.

  Ella flew up into the night, rising until her silhouette was lost in the silver shade of the full moon. And from the gloam, she rained fire down upon the men.

  But still, there were more.

  From the doors of the keep, a thick water spilled. Dark and viscous, it slid down the steps, filling the cracks and snaking through the lines of the cobblestone. It crept towards Fia, slithering across the courtyard, splashing against her shield, and pooling beneath her feet.

  And suddenly, they were inside, crawling, pulling themselves out of the dark waters. Strange men floating to the surface from deep wells, swinging at her wildly as they filled the veil.

  She leapt away, narrowly escaping the hiss of their biting steel. Already, there were seven inside the barrier, and more continued to ascend, climbing out from the deep. She needed more room. Her shields spun faster and faster as she pushed them out, burning through rows of men, as she sought the space to maneuver.

  But the more ground she took. The more the dark water pooled, seeping through the cracks, filling the center with the wild men. They came at her from all sides, a twisting knot, pulling tight around her.

  Wave after wave, flashes of golden light, just enough to keep them at bay. She stood in the waters now. And beneath her feet, she could see them, a drowned army in a sunken world. There were too many of them, an endless stream, flooding the courtyard.

  Above, Ella raged, burning away all that rose outside the barrier. The putrid stench of their ash filled the night, a bitter wet smoke, like drowned wood set aflame. The scorched air clung to her breath, settling in her lungs and pulling her down.

  Something caught her! A hand, pulling at her boots from below. And there were more! Pulling her deeper, trying to drown her beneath the waves.

  Her staff fell, slipping through her fingers. The waters were so deep, how could she be so far from the surface? She pulled, struggling against their weight, reaching towards the distant moonlight. She wanted to scream. Cry out for Ella to save her. But without her staff, she could do nothing.

  “Enough!” a voice cried out.

  And the water collapsed. And Fia fell with it, crashing down, her head cracking against the cobblestone.

  “Enough!” the voice cried again, and the faithful froze, the light leaving their eyes. “I have no more need of you.” It was a woman’s voice, cold and commanding. As she spoke, the men began to leak, dark water pouring from their flesh until they were returned to their source, pulling back and retreating into the keep.

  Alone on the steps stood a woman, tall and pale. She was robed in seafoam; her ashen hair fell against its folds like waves upon the shore. In her hand, she held the Trident.

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  “I have struck a bargain with your companion.” Her voice rang through the courtyard, echoing off its columns, swirling around Fia.

  “What have you done to her?”

  “Please, Cari is quite well,” the woman replied calmly, “Allow me to take you to her.” She turned, beckoning to Fia as she stepped through the hanging gates.

  Beyond the yawning doorway was a grand hall, or at least the ruins of one. Raised from the depths, the carved black marble still wept. Its briny tears carved through the stone, cutting thin channels along the walls where they fell. Above, tangled in sea reed, were golden chandeliers adorned with great pearls slick with green algae. Everywhere she looked, Fia saw the three-pronged spear. It was carved into the sea-bitten statues that lined the walls, embroidered in the tattered banners still damp and molding, branded on the rotting beams that held the roof aloft.

  “The Castle Kalidros,” the woman sighed, “My home…” She led Fia up a wide staircase into the throne room. And there, amidst a twisting mass of ivory bones, upon a great throne of shell and coral, sat—

  “—Cari!”

  The young girl smiled, hopping from the throne and running down the dais to meet her. “It's alright,” she called, “Everything’s going to be okay!” She leapt up, wrapping her arms around Fia’s waist.

  “Did she hurt you?” She demanded. Taking Cari’s face and cupping it in her hands.

  “Of course not!” she giggled in reply, “The lady of Kalidros means us no harm!”

  “But she’s taken the Trident.”

  “It belongs to her, though,” Cari frowned, “It was us who stole it from her…”

  “But don’t you need it?” Fia pressed, “Aren’t you going to be a hero?”

  “I will be a hero!” Cari’s eyes sparkled. “She explained it all to me. I’m going to save Kenosia! And I’ll live here with the lady, exploring all its wonders. And someday, when I am ready, I’ll be the new lady of Kalidros!

  “Cari, I don’t think—”

  But the young explorer ran back up the stairs, scouring the boneyard, singing as she searched, “Away, away, under salt and sea, lies holy drowned Kenosia.”

  “What have you done to her?” Fia hissed.

  “Nothing…” The lady whispered, watching as Cari ran through the gaps in a massive ribcage, “She needs a family, I need a family… We could be happy together.”

  “You would keep her here? In this dream?” She could hear Cari cooing in the distance, poking at the stone floor.

  “If it would make her happy.”

  “It does not seem to make you happy.”

  “I am lonely… and tired.” The lady’s eyes were wet. “But what more joy could there be than a dream shared?”

  “This is a nightmare.”

  “It has become so.” She admitted, “But with the Trident returned, I would use its power to restore the land. I will shape a world of light, one where she will never fear the shadows.” There was a squeal as Cari made what must have been a fascinating discovery.

  “It won’t be real.”

  “It will be real to us. Tell me, what life would she have in the waking world? A village that would see her dead? A family that threw her to the sea? No, she will have a better life here. There is no difference between a dream and reality if the dreamer never wakes. She will be happy here.”

  “What of the other girls?”

  “What other girls?”

  “Outside the dream, your grotto is littered with bones. What happened to those girls?”

  “They dreamed for a time,” The lady scowled, “But their dreams soured, and they could not last forever.”

  “I won’t let that happen to Cari.”

  “It won’t,” she snapped, twisting, her face suddenly frenzied and wild, “I have the Trident now, I am in command!”

  “But if she wants to leave, you’ll let her?”

  “She won’t.”

  “But if she does... Will you let me speak with her?”

  “If you must.” The lady nodded, folding her arms.

  She found Cari sitting on the spine of a great sea serpent. She was staring intently at the bones but smiled when Fia approached. “Look,” she held out her hand. It was glowing, a dim cerulean. Crawling on her fingers were tiny crabs. “They live inside the snake,” she whispered excitedly, then carefully set them back on the ivory rock.

  “Cari, may we speak?”

  The young girl nodded, eyes shining.

  They sat together, watching the crabs scuttle back and forth.

  “Cari, I… do not want to leave you here.”

  “You’re leaving?” Her eyes widened, “Leaving me?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Then we’ll stay here together!”

  “I can’t… I have to go back.” She took Cari’s hand in her own, caressing it.

  “But…I’ll miss you.”

  “Why don’t you come with me then? There’s a whole world we could explore together.”

  Cari frowned. “But what about the lady?”

  “She said you may leave if you like. Cari, please come with me. There’s so much I want to show you, great cities, lakes of fire, mountains that touch the sky… I think you’ll grow tired of exploring this same city. But outside we can go wherever we want, and you would be my hero.”

  “A lake of fire?” Cari gasped, her green eyes sparkling, then she paused, rubbing her nose thoughtfully. “Can we visit her?”

  “I think so.”

  Cari sat thinking, scratching her head as she ran her fingers through mussed hair. She was so small, her tiny fingers pulled at her chestnut hair, twisting themselves into knots between its strands. “Alright,” she squeaked, “I think I’ve explored enough here.” She swung herself off the snake, “I’m sorry, lady,” she called out, “I can’t stay with you. I’m going to help Fia find the lake of fire!”

  There was a piercing ring, like the shattering of a glass window, and a sea breeze swept through the throne room, catching the lady and sweeping her up into the mist. The falling droplets all that remained of her, sparkling dimly in the pale moonlight. And the sound of waves.

  You dare defy the Goddess.

  The room began to shake. From above, great statues fell, crashing into the ancient bones, splintering on the marble below. Out of the cracks, an ocean poured. It filled the room as the castle began to sink.

  And from the depths, a shadow rose. It was coiled like a sinewy rope, long and writhing, tearing itself out of the wounded floor. Salt and rot clung to the air as it climbed higher to loom over them, a great serpent.

  Cycle: Timor 8-2