Darklands

“Vicky,” Kane said above me. “Put away the sword.”



Suddenly I saw myself from the outside. Wild-eyed, scowling, brandishing a sword whose bite meant certain death. My demon mark didn’t merely burn or sting; it glowed like a beacon. It was drawing Difethwr to me. I could feel the Hellion’s approach. With each earthshaking step Difethwr took, my anger grew hotter, the urge to destroy more overpowering.



The Keeper crouched before me, shaking. My arms ached to strike, to feel the blade whoosh through the air, to meet the resistance of flesh and bone, and then keep slicing. I wanted the smell of hot blood, the melody of an anguished cry.



Look at the sword, said Butterfly’s voice in my head.



Darkblaze gleamed dully in the light.



It’s not flaming, is it? Remember what that means? This guy isn’t an enemy. For cripe’s sake, put the sword away.



The Eidolon was right. With effort, I sheathed the sword. I avoided looking at Kane.



Listen, I’ve got more than enough chow for now. So don’t do anything stupid that’ll get us both killed, okay? Butterfly’s voice faded. Other than a slight gnawing when I thought about how close I’d just come—twice—to unnecessary violence, I barely knew the Eidolon was there.



The Keeper rubbed his chest. “Here’s my offer,” I said. “You get us to the mountains. If I kill the Hellion, Lord Arawn has promised me his hunting horn.” I gestured at the tarp that covered the severed demon heads. “Any reward beyond that is yours.”



“Agreed.” The Keeper sounded so shaky that I think he would’ve accepted a cup of swamp water as payment to avoid making me angry again. He may have been a whiz at killing stranded demons, but fighting a crazy woman with a magic sword and a werewolf with a battle ax—weighing those odds, who wouldn’t decide to cooperate?



Still, I thought I’d offered a decent price.



Kane dismounted and looped our horses’ reins around a tree branch. I moved over to make room, taking a seat, and he stepped into the boat.



“Are you all right?” He took my hand as he settled beside me. The demon mark glowed through my sleeve.



“Calling the Destroyer is…hard. This new version of the Hellion feels more powerful than before.” Way more powerful—I didn’t want to admit how much. If my demon mark had previously felt like a bonfire, now it felt like a nuclear reactor in meltdown mode. “I can handle it.”



“Are you sure?”



I yanked away. “It’s not like I have a choice.” What was I doing? Kane wanted to help, and I responded by turning into a seething ball of fury. I reached for his hand and gentled my voice. “Please be patient with me. To do this, I have to push down everything in me that isn’t the Destroyer’s essence. That leaves anger, violence, rage…Those feelings call out to the Destroyer. I have to bring them forward, and the demon mark magnifies them.” I swallowed. “But the real me is still in there somewhere, too.”



“I understand.” But his eyes made me wonder. He patted my hand and let it go.



I clenched my hand into a fist and then opened it again, stretching the fingers. Clench, release. Clench, release. It cooled the fire in my forearm by a few degrees.



The Keeper dug his pole into the water and pushed, propelling the boat forward. We glided silently through the water toward the stark stone mountains.



Clench, release. Clench, release. The movement distracted me from the simmering anger that felt ready at every moment to boil over into rage. The anger was there, calling the Destroyer, but it didn’t possess me. Clench, release. I watched my hand open and close, focusing only on that, noticing how my fingers bent, feeling their nails dig into my palms, then unfurling them again.



“Look!” Kane’s exclamation made me jump. A throwing knife was in my hand before I realized I’d moved.



“What?” I turned back and forth, scanning the swamp for a huge, ugly Hellion. “The Destroyer?” We’d be sitting ducks in this boat.



“No, sorry, it’s the falcon. In that tree.”



I squinted along the line of his arm to see a large bird perched on a dead branch. It was snow white, with a powerful chest and a hooked, cruel-looking beak. As we passed, the falcon turned its head, following us with dark eyes. Then it took to the sky, rising slowly as it flapped its massive wings. Its wing span must have been four feet. The bird climbed into the air and soared toward the mountains.



Nice if we could do that.



“Its nest is on that mountain,” remarked the Keeper. “On a cliff a thousand feet up.”



Of course. If I survived my encounter with the Destroyer, my next job would be to scale a thousand-foot cliff and coax the bird to hop onto my shoulder. One thing at a time, Vicky. At least now I knew where to look for the falcon. I’d figure out how to catch it later.



The Keeper steered the boat to a narrow strip of beach at the base of a cliff. Dark granite stretched up and up as far as I could see. There was no way we could climb the steep face. I couldn’t fight here, with a mountain at my back and the swamp at my feet. I’d kill the damn Keeper for wasting my time. Clench, release. I sat on my hands, keeping them away from my weapons.



“This won’t do,” I said. “I have to be up there. If I can’t kill the Hellion, I need to drive it back into the demon plane.”



“I surmised as much. Above us is a lookout station. The ground is level, there’s room to fight, and it overlooks Uffern.”



“And it’s thousands of feet straight up!” My fingers clenched into fists, and this time I didn’t release. I really wanted to smash this guy’s face. “Even if I had wings, I couldn’t get up there, so what good is it?”



“Vicky.” Kane’s calm voice washed away some of my anger. “If it’s a lookout station, there must be a way up.”



“Indeed.” The Keeper nodded. “Arawn’s wizards created this range as a border defense. Some of the mountains, such as this one, are hollow. The path is inside.” He muttered a few words and made a sweeping gesture, like drawing aside a curtain. An opening appeared in the cliff.



“I’ll check it out,” Kane said.



“Be careful,” I called. I drew a knife and stood between him and the Keeper. I wasn’t going to let this guy corner us in some sort of trap. The Keeper folded his arms across his chest in a casual, nonaggressive posture, but he kept his eyes on me.



Kane reappeared. “It’s like he said. The mountain is hollow, and there’s a path, a ramp, that spirals up to the top.”



I put away my knife. The Keeper gave me a slight nod. “I will show you the way,” he said. Kane helped him drag the boat into the cave. I surveyed the swamp. A shadow glided over the stagnant water as the white falcon soared overhead. Other than that, the place was still, though I could feel the Destroyer’s approach.



It was coming. Would I be ready? My demon mark burned, craving violence. Did I want to fight the Destroyer—or join it?



Clench, release.



I followed the others through a narrow opening in the granite, wide enough at the bottom for the boat to clear, then tapering upward to a height a few inches above my head.



The cavelike entryway widened into a hollow mountain, just as Kane had described. The same dim, even light that suffused the Darklands illuminated the inside. A ramp, complete with railing, spiraled steeply upward.



“What’s your name?” Kane asked the Keeper as I approached.



“Edern ap Nudd.” He bowed. “A knight of King Arthur.” Except for seven, none returned. Suddenly I felt a twinge of sympathy for the guy. Like me, he’d been clay-born when he entered the Darklands. What would it feel like to come here as a living person and never be able to leave? A chill ran icy fingers along my spine. I didn’t intend to find out.



“I spent centuries as Lord Arawn’s prisoner,” Edern continued. “Then more centuries in his court until I persuaded him I could be trusted. Now I patrol the border.”



Kane told him our names, but I was too impatient for formalities. “How long does it take to climb to the top?” I asked, peering upward.



“You don’t climb. You ride. I’ll show you.” Edern walked to the base of the ramp. He gripped the railing as he stepped onto the incline. When he let go, he began to glide up the ramp. He went about ten feet, then grabbed the railing and hoisted himself over the edge, landing lightly on his feet in front of us.



“The magical current carries you, like a fast-flowing river. It takes perhaps ten minutes to reach the top.”



Ten minutes. Better than the hours-long climb I’d imagined. “It works for clay-born, too?” I asked. “Not just shades?”



“Aye. It carries whatever steps into its flow.”



Kane looked up, craning as he followed the spiral that seemed to go on forever. “How do we get back down?”



“When we reach the top, I’ll reverse the flow. It prevents enemies from following us.”



“Let’s go.” I started toward the ramp.



“Wait, Lady Victory.” Edern put a hand on my shoulder, lightly, as though he feared my reaction. “Riding the flow takes a…” He searched for the right word. “A lightness of touch. Hold the railing until you feel yourself floating on the current. Then let go. Don’t try to propel yourself. Focus on keeping your balance.”



“Balance. Right.” How hard could it be? Like one of those moving sidewalks at an airport.



“Take care. If you fall, the magic presses you down. It can drown the clay-born.”



Drowned by magic. Wonderful. Why couldn’t anything be easy here? Maybe the Destroyer had the right idea—raze everything, burn it all to ashes. Obliterate the Darklands, and let souls find their way to some other realm. I pictured the mountain in flames, this ramp a river of fire, and I laughed. The sound that echoed through the hollow mountain didn’t sound like me. It was deep and many-voiced, like a chorus of demons. Like the voice of the Destroyer. The burning ache in my arm forced me to come back to myself.