Chapter 2 #2
Peacefully. But without freedom—under the threat of death. Past me would think it would be a decent compromise, that if they save themselves now, at least they’ll have some hope, have a chance.
Chance for what? The question comes in Azur’s voice, full of venom and hatred. He thinks a life without freedom is pointless.
I’m not sure which of us is right, and yet looking at the lower fae beyond the gate, I can’t expect them to wait for a future chance when this is the closest they might ever be to escaping. There is a solution—one that I dread.
I’ll have to bury all my pride, give away the tiny bit of power I still have. And yet it can free these people. Tarlia comes to my mind, and I swallow. If I do this, how will I be able to save her? And if I don’t, what will she think of me?
“Ferer,” I mutter. “I need a favor.”
My insides are squirming in protest, hating what I’m about to ask, and yet, is there another option?
ASTRA
This cave was indeed meant to be a Tiurian sanctuary, except that they never got to carve up the ceiling or polish the walls or even floor.
Still, by one of the side walls, it has a platform that looks like it was made to accommodate those seats or beds like the ones in that other sanctuary.
While it doesn’t have cushions or any soft surface, it’s enough for now, as a place to rest—even if resting is the last thing I want, despite my exhaustion.
I don’t know where the Witch King is, but I’m glad for some respite from his harrowing presence.
Azur sits beside me, his head leaning on the wall, jotting something down on a strange, dark paper, with some kind of magical quill.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He glares at me, then scoffs as if the answer was obvious. “Writing poetry.”
I don’t ask anything anymore and leave him to his business, until eventually he places the paper back in his pocket.
Ghouls walk in front of us, and every two or three minutes, four of them stop and watch us, as if they were taking turns.
Their bodies look like mud, as if someone sculpted them with some kind of clay, except that whoever did it took a long time on their faces.
Eerie fae, human, or Tiurian faces, staring at us with blank, incomprehensible stares.
I tried reaching out to them, but found nothing but a wall. Either way, I wouldn’t risk asking them to help me escape or defeat the Witch King, since I’m not sure if there’s any separation between their minds.
And yet the question hangs: why did they help me back in the Shadow Lands forest? How come they bowed to me and showed me the way to the Amethyst Palace?
If I could figure out these answers, I bet I would be able to do more than escape: I could defeat the Witch King.
“They watch us.” Azur’s voice breaks a long silence. “Perhaps hoping to learn something.”
Right. I think it’s like the third or fourth time he’s hinting that we can’t talk right now and should keep up the pretense that we want to help the Witch King. Pretense for me, at least. I’m not sure how much Azur is pretending, and the thought chills me.
“They’re just magic, aren’t they?” I ask. I don’t think a simple curiosity about the ghouls would reveal my true intentions. “His Majesty’s magic, I suppose.”
He rubs his chin. “I wouldn’t know. And wouldn’t want to offend them. After all, they’re listening.”
Yes, listening. No kidding. I want to yell at him that I’m aware, but I have more important matters to try to solve.
I need to know more about that strange light barrier in the tunnel, and Azur might help me.
“Do you know why they can leave the cave when we can’t?”
He leans back on the wall and raises his shoulders in a slow shrug. “They’re made of earth and magic. I suppose the rules are different for them.”
That’s not helpful. Despite the ghoul’s watchful eyes, there’s something else I need to ask before trying to figure out a way to escape.
“When my magic returns, and if I can cross that barrier in the tunnel, will it open it permanently?”
His relaxed features harden for a less than a second. “It might be temporary. It might be permanent. If you’re wondering if you can be the one to free His Majesty with your magic, the answer’s yes.” He smirks. “Except that he might not need you.”
“Right. Because you can free him too, I suppose.”
“My magic can.” He sounds so smug, so proud.
Is that why he stopped me? So he’d be the one to free the Witch King? Perhaps to make sure he survives or keeps his eyes? Is his magic returning? Or is he pretending?
I snort. “And you’re thrilled about it, I suppose.”
“I love my magic, yes.” He frowns, then glances at the ghouls, as the group that was watching us walks away. “The Shadow Lands are dangerous for a human—or fae—at night, unless we’re under His Majesty’s protection, of course.”
“Which we are, aren’t we?”
He chuckles, touches a pocket, then looks at me. “Nice hair color. Can I touch it?”
That’s an odd request, but I assume he wants to whisper something. “Sure.”
He leans over and takes a lock of hair between his fingers. “It feels like normal hair.”
“Indeed. No thorns, unfortunately.”
Azur chuckles, then blinks slowly, his fingers caressing that strand carefully, then he whispers, “Can I smell it?”
His voice would be seductive, I guess, if we were anywhere else, in any different situation.
“Then come closer,” I reply in an attempt at a similar tone, except that I think my voice is shaky and my throat is tight.
He doesn’t move, and keeps doing whatever he’s doing to my hair, caressing it tenderly as if it was a cute animal or something.
I’m getting annoyed and about to pull back my hair, when he says, “Patience is a virtue.”
His eyes flicker to the foul ghouls watching us. They stand there for long, uncomfortable minutes, while Azur still seems fascinated with my strand of hair.
I mean, it’s purple and pretty. I would be fascinated as well, if my survival instinct hadn’t taken over my mind.
Then again, he’s fae, so whatever he’s doing might be absolutely normal for them—or else he’s trying to tell me something with his gesture alone, but the meaning is murkier than muddy waters.
Finally, Azur gets closer to my neck and sniffs my hair. The ghouls standing in front of us leave, and he whispers, “Sneak out when I distract him.”
“Through that passage with the brilliant filaments?” I whisper back. “Won’t it open it for him?”
“It won’t make a difference.”
I don’t think there’s time for him to explain why, so I ask a simpler question. “Will you follow me?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just get out. Once the sun’s up, it will be safe for you.”
Is that why he wants to wait until morning? No ghouls are standing in front of us yet, so I take the opportunity to explain, “I can walk in the Shadow Lands at night. And bring someone with me. It’s safe. I’ve done it.”
Azur frowns. “You can be lucky for a while, before a soulsucker finds you, or you’re overwhelmed by ghouls or sand sprites.”
“No.” I recall my light staving off the ghouls, and I’m certain I could do it again. “It’s safe. Unless…”
Perhaps leaving in the morning is how we can guarantee that the Witch King won’t follow us.
Four ghouls stand in front of us, and although Azur is still at a whispering distance, I try to be more careful with my words. “If I were to open the passage in the morning, do you know if His Majesty would be able to leave?”
“His Majesty is already mighty and grows more powerful by the minute. Of course he can walk in daylight.”
My heart stills as I consider what he said. “More powerful by the minute?”
“He absorbs magic, Astra.”
My heart jumps as I recall controlling and transcending an entire castle.“Your magic?”
“It must be going somewhere.”
The thought is so disturbing that I need to control myself not to tremble. “He’ll be invincible.”
“Indeed.” His chuckle sounds like a wild creature moaning in pain. “Aren’t you delighted?”
“Obviously. Isn’t that amazing?” A glance tells me the ghouls walked away, and I take the opportunity to ask a more urgent question. “If I sneak out, won’t he continue to absorb your magic? Still be invincible?”
“While you sneak out, I’ll stop that from happening.”
“How?”
“Trust me.” His voice doesn’t have a single hint of fear or indecision. He knows what he’s doing.
Trust Azur. A tough thing to do, but then if I escape, I can get help, can tell the others, can at least get away from my maniac ancestor who could kill me on a whim.
The ghouls return to watch us, and I can’t risk saying anything in front of them.
“Well, I’m tired of waiting. We should help His Majesty now.”
“I’m tired of waiting too.” He finally lets go of my hair and leans back.
I should smother my sigh of relief but I’m too worried to focus on something so silly.
He looks around and takes that paper from his vest pocket, stares at it, then puts it back and turns to the ghouls. “I wish to speak to His Majesty.”
The ghouls in the middle step aside, opening a passage, then turn. It’s a brief moment, but I can hear them in my mind. Follow us.
If I can hear them, could I talk to them? I’m not sure. My heart pulses heavier in my chest.
I get up from the uncomfortable, uncushioned seat and walk behind them.
Fewer ghouls are in the cave now, I’d say some fifty or sixty, and they’re no longer standing in formation, but walking around.
The Witch King is sitting at his throne, leaning his head on his hand, as if resting.
I wonder if he needs to sleep, and how strong he is.
I also wonder what the ghouls will do when I sneak out, and what will happen to Azur.
We’re approaching the throne, and the Witch King pins us with his dark eyes.
My heart pumps my blood furiously in my chest, my entire body taut in anticipation of what’s to happen.
This is it. I know I suggested we should do it sooner rather than later, but now I feel my courage seeping through my skin and evaporating in the desertic air. Can I even trust Azur? Or am I signing a death sentence?
Regardless. Waiting would only have postponed the inevitable.
And the question is: what is inevitable?