The Cursed Rose, page 14
It was the easiest choice she had ever made.
Speckles of sand ghosted around her. Shane took three running steps and then launched herself into the air. The drop yawned beneath her. Her hands closed around the chain, her boots clanging against the dangling steel beam.
Shane let out a whoop of exhilaration as the whole contraption swung toward the far wall. At the last possible second, she let go, careening toward the little hollow. A cloud of sand rose up around her as she landed. She couldn’t even see Fi anymore, but none of the mechanisms had retracted, so she was still down there somewhere, holding on.
Shane checked the hole for blades and then shoved her hand inside. She had to stick her arm in all the way to the shoulder, but her fingertips ghosted over something—cold metal, the crank of a lever. Shane yanked it down. The mechanism nearly sprang out of her hands. Apparently, this one didn’t require somebody to hang on to it like Fi’s did. The cascade of sand slowed to a trickle as the fissure in the ceiling rumbled closed.
Shane spun around and gripped the wall of the hollow, peering down. The sand hadn’t just stopped pouring in from above. Some kind of grate had opened in the floor, and right before her eyes, the sand was pouring away, hissing down into the bowels of the ruin. A second later, Fi appeared, coughing and spluttering, throwing Shane’s coat and a mound of sand away from herself.
Shane’s shoulders slumped in relief. She eyed the swinging beams for a second before jumping onto the lowest one, the metal shuddering under her weight. Then she slid carefully over the side, dangling from her fingertips for a second before dropping, using the quickly dwindling pile of sand to cushion her fall.
Her boots slipped out from under her in the slick pile, and she ended up on her backside—but luckily, that was somewhat cushioned, too.
“Shane!” Fi choked out, but it came out more like a garble.
Shane scowled, glaring up at the ceiling. “You know, for a supposedly peaceful Order of Magic, these Rose Witches sure spend a lot of time coming up with inventive ways to kill people.” She bent to dig Fi’s leg out of the sand, though she regretted that a second later as Fi pulled her boot free and almost kneed Shane in the chin.
Fi was still blinking at her, sand-crusted and bewildered. “What about the door? Why didn’t you just take the chance and go?”
Shane snorted. “First of all, I’m insulted. Second, you misunderstood this trap in a big way.” She shook out her jacket and slipped it back on, resettling the ax on her shoulders. “That’s not the right door up there—probably just a one-way ticket back to the mountains. And the way I read it, that story about Aurora isn’t just about sacrifice. It’s about trust. Nobody who would ditch their partner in a sand avalanche is going to make it through Aurora’s tomb.”
Shane glanced back to see whether that bit about trust had landed. Fi’s face was certainly pinched into a frown, but Shane couldn’t tell if that was guilt or the excessive amount of sand Fi was shaking out of her hair.
“Guess we’re done with this lever, then.” Still, Fi hesitated before she relaxed her grip, pulling her arm out of the hole fast as the mechanisms groaned again. But it was the good groaning this time—a half-sized door grinding open at the bottom of the wall, still partially covered by a mound of sand. Shane kicked it out of the way while Fi picked up the dark lantern and hooked it on her belt.
“Think it’s safe to say the worst is over?” Shane asked.
Fi rolled her eyes. “Not if experience is anything to go by.”
Shane took the lead this time, crawling on her hands and knees through the opening. It was roomy enough that she wasn’t worried about getting stuck, but she was glad not to be all that broad-shouldered. She could hear Fi behind her, the lantern clanking against the ancient stone walls.
It felt like it took forever, but it was probably just half a minute before Shane felt empty air in front of her and slid out into a vast, open space, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Fi’s boot lodged in her back as she scooted out of the passage right on her heels. The door snapped spitefully closed behind them.
Shane huffed out a laugh. “Just like old times, huh?”
She couldn’t tell in the dark, but she had a feeling Fi was rolling her eyes. The girl knelt down, and Shane heard the scrape of her flint and tinder as the sparks flew once, twice before the lantern finally caught, casting a yellow glow.
Fi’s features leapt out of the dark, her expression of apprehension turning to one of wonder as she stood, holding the lantern aloft.
They were in a wide rectangular room with sheer walls and no windows or doors. The floor was stone, but with patches of sand here and there, probably swept in from the previous room. At first, Shane thought the walls were covered with the same rose carvings as in the first chamber, but when she looked closer, she realized there were no flowers in bloom among these vines—just unopened buds and roses puckered at the tips, forever closed. A shiver crawled up her spine. It was eerie how much the rose-less vines looked like the wicked Forest of Thorns.
“Shane, look at this,” Fi said, pointing. In the very center of the chamber, a great black slab of stone rested in a pool of dark sand. It was definitely in the shape of a coffin, but it looked like something that would be more at home in a haunted crypt than the tomb of a beloved queen.
“You think she’s in there?” Shane asked. She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger just in case.
Steelwight had a lot of stories about angry ghosts and souls dragged to the other side for trespassing on the realm of the spirits. Shane had spent countless childhood nights lying awake in terror of those stories—mostly because her grandmother insisted that Shane could offend all the War Kings of Rockrimmon, living or dead, with her stubbornness and liked to finish her ghost stories with a jump scare, grabbing her grandchildren with her bony fingers so they wouldn’t sleep a wink.
“There’s no way to know for sure without checking,” Fi said, not sounding the least bit concerned about stepping on any ghostly toes. “But . . . does this feel like the end of the tomb to you?”
“No,” Shane agreed. “Plus, we’re not currently standing on a pile of skeletons, and I don’t see a place for dozens of treasure hunters with no memories to have escaped back to the forest. Which I guess makes this another—”
“Trap!” they finished together.
The word hadn’t even stopped echoing before the air around them filled with a hissing noise. It sounded like a hundred snakes moving at once. Only there were louder noises, too, grating and grinding.
“The walls!” Shane shouted in warning, practically ripping her ax from its straps. Fi swung the lantern around, the light spinning dizzily as she scrabbled for her rope.
It was like all the walls had come alive, the rose vines writhing across the bare rock like a mass of snakes twisting over and through each other. Shane felt her heart slam into her throat. This was no trick or illusion, no ancient mechanism. This was real magic. Her knuckles curled over the ax as she watched the vines slither down from the walls, crawling toward them through the dark.
Shane had no idea how effective her ax would be against a magic snake, but it would be pretty hard for those things to keep moving once she’d pulverized them. The lantern light flickered, the shadows growing and shrinking as Fi turned in a circle.
For just a second, the flame was hidden behind her partner’s body. Suddenly, the uncurling vine in front of Shane had a second shadow splashed against the wall—one that wasn’t cast by their lantern.
“Watch out!” Fi screamed, yanking Shane backward by her coat.
A wisp of light, ethereal as a ghost, rushed past them like a warm breath. It looked like one of her grandmother’s will-o’-the-wisps, darting into the corners of the room and disappearing in the shadows.
“What is that thing?” Shane demanded.
Fi’s eyes shone as she set the lantern on the ground, unspooling her rope. “I think it’s our next clue,” she said.
Shane felt Fi’s back thump against hers, solid and steady. Then the snakes were on them, and she threw herself into the fight.
13
Fi
fi set a length of rope spinning, trying to track the slithering vines while still keeping one eye on the little ball of light. It had retreated to a high corner of the ceiling, waiting. Fi would have to worry about that later. The first of the vine snakes was getting close, its stone leaves crackling as it plowed through the sand. Fi squared her stance, trying to recall all of the details of the room at the same time. There had to be a way out—a way forward—and a hint buried somewhere in the chaos around them.
A violent crash behind her signaled the beginning of the fight. Bits of broken stone skittered across the floor as Shane cracked her ax through the first vine.
With a rush of sand, another vine sprang at Fi, twisting around her wrist like a shackle. The hard stone cut into her skin as it cinched tight and then froze, turning back to unyielding rock. Fi yanked at her hand, but it was locked in place.
Two more of the vines were already racing toward her. Desperately, Fi let her rope fly. The metal ring bounced off the writhing vines with a loud ping! and then lurched out of her grip. The rope had snagged on one of the stone thorns. Another stone vine hurtled at her, and Fi ducked just in time, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket. She didn’t miss the way the little wisp of light jumped, like it was waiting for just the right moment to strike.
“Shane!” Fi yelled. Behind her, she could hear the grunts and crashes of the huntsman dealing with her own problems.
“Little busy here, Fi!” Shane called back.
“The vines are trying to trap us so that light—whatever it is—can attack.”
“What?” Shane demanded.
Fi tugged desperately against the stone shackle, kicking at one of the vines slithering around her feet. Her toe throbbed like she’d kicked solid rock, but at least she’d tossed it back a few inches.
The vine coiled again, the stone rippling like a viper as it readied to strike. Fi stretched as far as she could, struggling to grab her fallen rope. The vine launched at her. Instinctively, she threw her free hand up to protect her face, aware even as she did that she was about to be completely trapped.
The stone never reached her. Shane let out a great shout as her ax smashed into the vine, shearing it in half and leaving it a crumbling stump writhing on the ground.
“Keep your eyes covered,” Shane warned. Then she spun the ax in her hands and slammed the blunt end into the vine trapping Fi’s wrist. The stone shattered, bits of rock flying in all directions, and Fi stumbled free. The skin of her wrist was scraped raw. She grabbed her rope and turned to join Shane, only to find her partner shoving her toward the black coffin instead.
“This is a job for a huntsman,” Shane growled. “Figuring a way out of here—that’s a job for a bookworm.”
Fi wanted to protest. Blood was already running down the side of Shane’s face, her messy hair studded with shattered chips of gray stone. But her partner was right. Fi shot one last look at the strange wisp of light hovering at the edge of the room. Then she snatched up the lantern and rushed to the black coffin.
In the wavering light, the stone gleamed as though the entire thing had been carved from obsidian. The surface was smooth, and it was thick enough that Fi couldn’t even hear a hollow echo when she rapped her knuckles against it. There was nothing else in the room—the clue she was looking for had to be here. But it was hard to focus with Shane locked in battle behind her.
Fi jumped as a torn-off hunk of vine smashed into the coffin inches from her.
Focus! Fi told herself. She sucked in a deep breath of dusty air. There was a seam running around the top edge of the coffin—invisible to the eye, but Fi could feel it with her fingertips. A lid. Fi forced her shoulder against the edge, using all of her weight to try to force it open. The stone didn’t budge. Clearly, it wasn’t a matter of brute force. She had to find a way to unseal it.
“Anytime, Fi!” Shane growled. Her voice was closer, close enough that Fi could feel the shards of broken vines striking her calves as Shane hacked away. It really was just like old times.
Fi closed her eyes and pinched her earlobe. Hard.
This was the tomb of Aurora, the first Witch Queen and the founder of the Order of the Divine Rose. But there were no roses in this room, deliberately so, and unlike the sunlit statue and the garden of weeping willows, this place was dark and menacing, with a cold, forbidding coffin. It was the most unfitting place possible to be the resting place of a Witch like Aurora, the greatest light Witch Andar had ever known.
All at once, she was lost in a memory of Briar Rose, sparks of white light dancing between his fingertips. Briar, who had the same magic as his powerful ancestor.
This wasn’t a trap at all—it was a test. Fi’s eyes sprang open in time to see a stone vine flying toward her. Shane seized her by the collar and dragged her to the ground.
“I can’t hold them off any longer!” she warned.
“It’s okay.” Fi squeezed her partner’s shoulder. “I know what I have to do.” Then she stood up, walking purposefully toward the ball of light. The vines snapped at her feet, leaves and bulbous rosebuds gliding through the sand.
“Fi!” Shane shouted. “Get back here!”
“Trust me,” Fi said, throwing a look over her shoulder.
“I really hate it when you say that,” Shane grumbled.
Fi just smiled. Then the little wisp of light darted forward, straight at her. Fi threw her arms wide and let it in.
It was like being hit by a blast of air, or a rush of mist if, instead of icy cold, the feeling was warm like the sun. At first, it felt like all the life was being sucked out of her, her knees buckling, her breath stuttering and shallow in her chest. Then a different kind of power filled her, searing and bright. Fi looked down at her hands in wonder. They were glowing a silvery white.
On its own, her body turned back toward the obsidian coffin. Fi’s first instinct was to fight it—to try and regain control of her body—but she didn’t, because this was the test.
Aurora Rose was the most powerful light Witch of all time. The little ball was a fragment of the queen as surely as the Lord of the Butterflies hid pieces of himself in mirrors. Aurora was the guardian of her own tomb and the judge of who could enter. In the end, a trap, no matter how clever or carefully set, could only test a person’s wits, or strength, or luck. The only way to know what was in a person’s heart was to look inside them. Whenever treasure hunters broke into her tomb, Aurora’s spirit had possessed them and simply walked the unworthy back out into the forest, leaving them with no memories of her.
And now? What would she do with Fi?
Fi felt herself take another step. The vines calmed around her feet, the stone rosebuds unfurling in the radiant white light. Fi closed her eyes. The glow that had filled her didn’t feel as frightening when she imagined it was really Aurora, who looked so much like Briar Rose.
Please, she begged silently. I may not be worthy, but my cause is. Briar is. Your descendant needs you. At the thought of him, a tide of memories rushed over her, and Fi let herself get swept away in them—Briar carrying her piggyback, Briar swirling in his Red Baron costume, Briar’s blue eyes sparkling like a deep, warm ocean, Briar kissing her under a sky of stars. Briar, who was the light burning in the center of her, chasing away all of the darkness and the fear and the loneliness she had gotten so used to. It made her ache and ache and ache, remembering how much she loved him and how he’d been ripped away from her.
Fi didn’t know if Aurora could see those memories, too, but she tried to concentrate on that love, on her desire to save him and all of Andar. If you ever loved someone like this, she thought, please help me get him back.
Her body had reached the coffin. Shane was shouting her name, but it sounded distant and hazy. Aurora raised Fi’s hands. Light gathered at the tips of her fingers, sparks of pure white magic. Fi gasped, a tear sliding down her cheek at the light that felt so familiar.
The Witch gathered all the magic into a single finger and then pressed it against the seam of the coffin. Light spilled out, running like water down the black stone, pulsing and bright. She could feel Aurora’s presence like a warm sunlit day full of the soft scent of roses.
Suddenly, Fi’s ears rang with a voice. It whispered with the rustle of the wind through the willows outside, the tinkling song of silver bells.
I’ve waited so long for this day.
It was Aurora, inside Fi and all around her. Light filled her vision, blinding white like she was looking directly at the sun, and when she blinked it away, she was somewhere else. The spire of the Spindle Witch’s dark tower rose from the carpet of white bones—but for one instant, one second between blinks, it had looked inverted, as if she were seeing Briar’s white tower rising from the black thorns instead.
Two lonely towers. Two Witches waiting for a rescue. Just as Fi had always suspected, these stories were infinitely more tangled than they first appeared.
Yes, Aurora breathed, close in her ears. We found her in the tower. She was all raw magic at first—no skill, only instinct. But she learned fast. So fast.
The scene had changed. They were inside the tower—the same empty tower Fi had wandered for weeks. Except it didn’t look so lonely or empty. She recognized the Spindle Witch’s room from the pictures scratched into the wall, but now it was crammed with Fi’s unsteady desk and some other furniture, all laid out together as if to make a worktable. The surface spilled over with heavy leather-bound books, some wide open while others bristled with so many bookmarks and scraps of notepaper Fi doubted anyone could find what they’d marked.
