Chapter 47
CHAPTER 47
Keldarion
T he only light in the Great Chasm comes from the lantern Uncle Irahn carries. It burns valiantly in the pitch-darkness, causing shadows to flicker along his and George’s faces. Our elevator continues its creaking descent down, down, down into the deep. We’re long past the torches held by the other Voidseal workers. No one’s mad enough to go this far down.
But no one’s ever tried to rescue someone from Sira’s prison before, either.
George and I spent yesterday traveling from Frostfang, with George riding atop my wolf’s back. The old man proved himself a keen rider. “No harder than riding the ostriches down in Jacksonville! Mr. Fraser opened up a farm. I was quite taken with it.”
In the time we’ve been traveling together, I’ve learned, much like his daughter, George has a story for everything. Though, where Rosalina’s stories come from her books, George’s all come from his own history. Crossing the Anelkrol Badlands reminded him of a failed expedition he and Anya were a part of on the HMCS Karluk . The massive bridge across Voidseal prompted a memory of fastening a lock to the Ponte Milvio with his and Anya’s names on it to symbolize everlasting love. Though I’ve poked my head into the human realm from time to time, these places and names mean nothing to me. Yet, it’s as if I can see everything play out in my head; George speaks with such vivid imagery, his mind as sharp as ever.
The one common theme in all of his tales is Anya. She’s always with him, the focus of his attention. It’s as if just by saying her name, something within him alights.
Now, George leans over the edge of the elevator, trying to peer into the murk. Uncle Irahn grabs him by his coat and yanks him back. “You’ll lose your nose that way, boy,” Irahn says gruffly.
George gives a sheepish grin and taps his foot impatiently. Despite being a human and traveling with a giant wolf for days in the most unforgiving place in the Vale, he’s shown no fear. No nervousness.
I, on the other hand, am filled with dread. There’s nothing to distract me here with the dark so consuming. Only the irritating rattle of the elevator and the cold. The dread sinks deeper into my bones.
I’m not afraid of the Below or whatever Sira throws at me in her labyrinth. But I’m responsible for Rosalina’s father, the most important person in her life, and possibly—if things go according to plan—I’ll be responsible for her mother, as well. I have to bring them home safely. Have to give Rosalina a chance to see both her parents again.
The elevator creaks to a halt. We’ve been descending for what feels like hours; the stillness unsettles me.
“This is as far down as it will go,” Uncle Irahn says. “You’re on your own now, boys.”
He opens the door, and we step out into an icy tunnel. Uncle Irahn hands both me and George a lantern, though they do little to help. It’s as if their light is swallowed immediately.
“Thank you, Uncle,” I say.
To my surprise, my uncle hugs me. “I don’t know what’s so damned important down here, boy, but I better not randomly wake up one morning with a Blessing in my chest.”
“I’m not going to die,” I say. For the first time in so long, I’m confident in that. There is too much future for me. Too much for Rosalina.
Uncle Irahn nods. That’s as much emotion as I’ll get from him.
George and I walk into the tunnel. The elevator creaks as it ascends back toward the light.
“Only one way out now,” I mutter.
With each step, I sense we’re leaving Winter behind and entering the Below. The air is warmer, and I shed my large coat. Eventually, we don’t even need our lanterns. Glowing green scars cut across the walls: remnants from when Caspian created the Great Chasm in the first place.
“What is this place?” George asks, running a hand along the stone.
“The result of a temper tantrum,” I mutter. “Now, it’s an entryway. Sira could send an army through this gap if she wanted to. The only thing standing between her and Winter is the Voidseal Guard.”
“A temper tantrum. I do believe you’ll have to explain further,” George says.
My voice is raspy. I don’t want to tell this tale. But all my stories seem to be filled with tragedy, and George has given me so many, I suppose I owe him one. “Before the realms existed, there was only the Above, home of the first fae. Many legends have been passed down about what it was like, but all agree it was a place of light, of hope. It was lit by a magical rosebush known as the Gardens of Ithilias.”
“So, heaven exists,” George mumbles. “At least, a version of it.”
“Whatever it was, it doesn’t exist anymore. Sira stole a rose and created the Below. She waged war on the Above and eventually destroyed the rosebush. Everything would have been lost if it wasn’t for Aurelia’s courage. She saved four roses from the bush before Sira destroyed it and used those to make Castletree and the realms.”
“Aurelia,” George whispers. “Aurelia. Anya. My Anya.”
Green light glows off my skin as I talk. “Years and years after Aurelia left the Vale, the Below was still waging war on the realms. Everyone knew Sira was using the rose to create her monsters, so a plan was put in place by my parents to retrieve the rose. Unfortunately, they were ambushed while escaping the Below. My parents eluded capture, but the rose was lost in the attack. Neither the surface realms nor the Below had control over it.”
One step in front of the other. One word after another. I can’t let myself get tangled in the memories of my parents.
Of him.
“Despite the best judgment of many, I made an alliance with the Prince of the Below, who swore he had abandoned his mother and all allegiance to this dark realm.”
“The dark-haired boy. The one I saw in my mind’s eye speaking with Anya. There was something familiar about him …”
“Yes. Caspian. We decided to work together to find the rose. I even lived in the Below for a time while we searched. Eventually, we succeeded.”
“A valiant mission indeed,” George says. He watches me out of his peripheral vision, and it’s as if he’s reading me like a map. There are so many unsaid parts of this story. The love. The desperation. The bargain. But I don’t need to tell George for him to understand.
“Ultimately, our alliance was not to last. An ally of mine attacked Caspian’s home, and in return Caspian stole back the rose and led an army against Keep Wolfhelm. My mother perished in the battle, and I was captured by the Below. Thus began the War of Thorns, a terrible campaign that would claim the life of many fae.”
George sighs deeply. “There is no greater tragedy than friendships torn asunder by war. Pain knows no allegiance.”
“Just like Caspian,” I mutter. “The War of Thorns raged across all four realms. Frostfang was occupied, and the Below led a force against Autumn.”
“Ah, Dom and Billy spoke of this when we passed by the chrysanthemum field outside of Coppershire. They said a huge mudslide destroyed both the fae and goblin armies.”
I nod. “Those armies recently fought again, raised by Perth Quellos’s evil magic. Thankfully, Farron has now given them eternal rest.”
“You were captured during all of this?” George asks.
“Caspian chained me to a mountain within the Below.” I shrug as if this fact is no more jarring than saying I was out of town. “Ezryn, the same ally who first attacked Caspian’s home, climbed the mountain and rescued me. Although Ezryn was High Prince at the time, his father was able to hold back the Below’s forces against Spring, so Ezryn stayed to assist Winter. I gave him command of my army. He and my father worked together to take back Frostfang.”
“You went after Caspian yourself,” George says. It’s not a question. Insightful, just like his daughter.
“I needed to reclaim the rose. At least that’s what I told myself. Truly, I wanted Caspian to hurt the way he had hurt me. I challenged him, and we battled across the Badlands. I knew he was powerful, but during our fight he … erupted. This chasm, the tunnels, the green light—that was all a result of his betrayal.”
“Or his love.” George shrugs.
“Caspian’s love has always been a tempest.” My boots are too loud on the stone, the green scars too bright. “The rose was destroyed during our fight out on the Anelkrol Badlands. Sira could not use it to create any more of her armies, but nor could we use it to take control of them. The monsters, such as the goblins in the Briar, became wild, untamed. All suffered.”
“You’re sure the rose is gone forever?”
I take a rumbling breath. “Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I did it myself.” Images flash into my mind. Lavender eyes flooded with green. Ice battling with shadows, with thorns, with emerald fire. “My father died in the process of retaking Frostfang, and I received Winter’s Blessing. Between my newfound strength and Caspian’s Green Flame, our magic was untethered. The rose was the cost.”
“What came of this war?”
A joyless laugh escapes me. “Nothing. Hadria and Florendel were able to hold their borders, and after the mudslide destroyed the armies in Autumn and Frostfang was retaken, the Below had no choice but to retreat. As far as Caspian and I were concerned, when the rose was destroyed there was nothing left to fight for but the death of the other. I suppose there was a limit even to our anger.”
George is silent for a few moments; a strange occurrence for him. Then he says, “I’ve spent my life finding remnants of things people thought destroyed, and I’ve come to learn nothing is ever truly lost. Perhaps, Keldarion, a little piece of heaven may still be here in the realms.”
“Your delusion is charming.”
“So I have been told.” George smiles, then flicks his gaze past me. “Ah! Looks like we’re about here.”
The dim purple light of the Below’s horizon filters in through the tunnel. We quicken our pace until we step out from the cloistering walls into a massive chamber.
A colossal structure looms before us. The walls of the labyrinth rise into the murky sky. The stones seem ancient, yet unmarred by time. Intricate carvings adorn each one, depicting grisly scenes of torture and violence. I can only imagine how much time it would have taken to carve them. Grotesque creatures of stone stand on either side of the open entrance, their forms distorted beyond any recognizable beast in the Vale.
The maze is so large, there’s no way to tell how far back it goes or how long it stretches. But somewhere beyond it is the rightful Queen of the Enchanted Vale.
“Last chance to turn back, George,” I say. “I can do this without you.”
“No, you can’t, boy,” George says. He closes his eyes and touches his heart. Then, he snaps his eyes open and takes three steps into the labyrinth. “Left, I should think.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
He smiles back at me and taps his heart. “She’s my little piece of heaven.”
I stay frozen to the spot. Within these walls are dangers like I’ve never experienced—the darkest and most vile creations of the Below—and I’m going to be led by an old human man trusting his heart.
Well, I’ve done stupider things.
I enter the labyrinth and follow behind George as we walk straight into the heart of evil.