Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (46 page)

"Until King Ronan came along, the church's rule in Prynesse was absolute," Jo said. "Sometimes a historian from Freehold will come visit the stacks." Jo lifted an unlit oil lamp from a ledge beside the elevator. "Eric said the monks lead them by the nose showing visitors the approved books."

Might she find her notebook after so many years away? "You're sure you know where to find Elan's research notes?"

Jo nodded. "I've spent weeks in the stacks hiding and reading." Jo lit the lamp and soft light filled their surroundings.

Her whole life, she'd loved the darkness. She'd sought it out and relished the solitude it offered. But, the lamp light radiating from Jo's hand eased the tension in her shoulders. She relaxed, if only a little.

"Follow me," Jo said.

Jo led her past stack after stack of piled-high books covered in layers of dust. The room, far wider than the main library, seemingly had no end. The stone floor, smooth and polished by the elevator, showed cracks and signs of decay.

As they moved deeper, the temperature dropped and the stench of mold prickled her nostrils.

"We're almost there," Jo said.

Would she find her journal eaten away from decay if she found it at all?

Jo slid past a towering stack of thick tomes sprouting frayed and yellow paper. Their bindings had disintegrated.

She worried touching the books might turn them to dust.

Jo climbed a short set of stone stairs and paused before a stack of volumes piled high against a smooth marble wall. With spines facing out, the books appeared in good condition.

"Why are these books better preserved?" She said.

"The monks bring any book related to Elan's research here. Even if the church doesn't like it, they don't want to see the material destroyed."

"How many others know of this place?"

Jo shrugged. "Some of the monks I'm sure. They have no idea that Eric knows of this place. If they knew I was lurking around down here, I wouldn't be among the living."

"Can I hold the lamp?"

Jo stepped forward and handed her the oil lamp.

She held the lamp high and spilled light over the volumes before her.

Volumes of books held research on transcendent soul energy and displaced power theory. She'd read them many lifetimes ago. Some written by her own hand.

"See anything?"

She moved across the stack. Her heart beat faster as memories came back to her. Fond memories of time spent with Elan and Lora. Arguments over theory and research. Long hours spent talking about the fabric of life and how to unseal its power. The best time of her life, until it had gone so horribly wrong. Why had Elan shunned her? The man she knew wouldn't have tossed her aside like rubbish. She'd loved Elan. She still did.

Tears welled in her eyes as she swung the lamplight lower.

The light revealed a thin leather-bound notebook with a hand-drawn rose on its spine.

She gasped. Her head buzzed and her legs turned to mush. Her hand trembled casting creaky shadows across the stack.

"What's wrong?" Jo came up beside her and peeled the lamp from her white-knuckled grip.

Heart pounding, she pulled away book after book. She tossed each aside until she reached the notebook. Her pulse raced so fast, her heart beat in her temples. With a trembling hand, she picked up the notebook and peeled open the cover.

Tears streaked her face and she couldn't suppress a triumphant laugh.

Jo leaned in casting light over the pages. "It's all numbers and strange symbols."

She smiled and wiped away a tear. "Elan and I made our own code."

Jo's mouth fell open and the girl's face turned ashen. "You knew Elan?"

She nodded. "We discovered magic together."

"What was he like?" Jo said.

She fluttered through the pages searching for the end. "He —"

A piece of paper slipped free and drifted downward before settling at her feet.

Jo bent, scooped up the paper, and handed her an aged yellow note.

The paper, written in the same code, contained four brief sentences.

Her eyes flashed across the symbols decoding as she read.

Darius doesn't speak for me. I never asked you to leave Meranthia. I believe I know how to reverse the curse. Come find me. E.

The room spun, her legs buckled, and the note slid from her fingers. She collapsed and the notebook tumbled away.

Jo knelt beside her and spoke words of comfort, but her world collapsed. She wailed and pounded her fists against the cold marble floor.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Inner Glow

A thorny red branch slithered around Danielle's neck.

Her breaths came in short ragged pulls and a slow drumming throb settled at the base of her skull. She clawed at the heartwood limb snaring her throat but the tree wouldn't budge.

Brees stood frozen beneath the archway. The shaman's eyes registered raw panic.

The tree pulled on her magic reserves siphoning more of her precious strength. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, her insides turned to jelly and her vision blurred at the edges.

A low gurgling scream came from nearer the tree. Jeremy. Her stomach rolled and she strained to free her arms from the tree's grasp. Would her life end here? Killed by the tree to which she'd devoted her life.

Brees turned and stared down the hallway leading from Trace's workshop.

"Brees," she said straining to blurt out the word.

The shaman's gaze met hers and a fresh wave of panic sprouted in her mind.

Fear settled in the shaman's eyes, but something else lurked too. A loathing perhaps. A look she'd never seen that caught her off-guard.

A low humming noise came from her belt pouch setting off a vibration across her stomach.

What would vibrate in her pouch? Her mind raced through the contents: Black vine seeds, Healing plant seeds, Trace's petrified heartwood seed, and one last item. The dormant heartwood sample she and Kelwin created back in Freehold.

She suppressed a scream of triumph and stretched her mind toward the humming at her waist.

The evil heartwood's presence slammed into her consciousness.

Pain rippled across her body. The limb circling her throat tightened and blackness crept at the edge of her vision.

Keely’s high-pitched scream echoed across the room.

Willing forth her dwindling energy reserves, she lashed out with a spike of nature magic.

A hissing sound roared in her mind and the presence retreated.

She latched on to the heartwood inside her pouch and it sang inside her mind with the voice of an angel. Tears welled in her eyes and she poured magic through the link.

A golden-red limb curled beneath the closed belt pouch and raced along her body.

Her head spun and vision dimmed. The golden heartwood sang while the evil presence fled from her mind.

Liquid currents of red and gold washed over her body and slid beneath the evil tree's limbs.

A distant screech filled her mind and the pressure around her neck vanished. She gasped and filled her lungs with precious air.

The golden heartwood chirped a melody unlike anything she'd heard from the grove.

Voices shouted and robed figures spilled into the room. The whoosh of fire preceded the acrid stench of burning wood.

Her mind recoiled and the chirping grew to manic levels. The evil presence faded while fear flared inside her mind. Fear not born of her own emotional response. The fear came from the entity inside her thoughts.

Blurred images of people running and shouting mixed with a purple haze of smoke.

She choked and rolled over curling into a tight ball.

The golden-red heartwood flowed around her coating her body like a second skin.

A crackle of lightning flashed through the smoke. A shout and a scream.

She recognized the shouts. Keely and Arber. Where was Jeremy? With a groan she rolled over hacking, coughing, and retching out streams of bile and mucus.

The golden heartwood hummed.

Soothing vibrations drifted through her body then vanished.

Strong hands grabbed her and dragged her by the arms across the workshop. "Brees?" Her voice sounded fuzzy and distant while shadowy figures dragged her across the room.

Air, fresh and sweet, crossed her lips and she leaned backward finding a hard surface behind her back. Tears streamed from her red, stinging eyes. She gagged again, retching up a second round of bile.

A tugging sensation pulled at her waistline and her pouch slipped away.

She stiffened and her eyes shot open.

Brees stood a few feet away speaking with a second man. A shaman. She didn't recognize the bearded man.

The shaman nodded, spoke in a low hushed tone, and hoisted up a leather pack.

Jeremy's pack. A pack containing both Lora's and Elan's Spheres. Why had Brees taken her belt pouch? "What are you doing?" She choked on the words setting in motion a fresh bout of gagging.

"Saving you," Brees said.

She crawled onto her hands and knees and peered into the room beyond.

Smoke poured from the workshop and any sign of the evil tree had vanished.

"Give me my belt pouch," she said.

A veil of electricity appeared around her leaving Brees obscured. She jerked upward and spun in a quick circle. "What are you doing?"

"I told you Danielle," Brees said. "I can't let you build the gate. I'm sorry."

She reached for her magic but found emptiness and exhaustion. Where had the golden tree gone? Had they burned it? She reached out with her mind and found nothing. The heartwood tree in Trace's workshop had died killing any hope of curing the plague.

"You've sentenced us all to death." Her stomach twisted and her gaze fell to the hallway leading to the workshop.

Three electrical cocoons held Arber, Keely, and Jeremy. None of them moved.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The Taint

Pain, hot and sharp, like a molten shard of jagged glass raked through Ronan's legs. Stifling air clogged his nostrils and the flavor of decay coated his dry lips.

He pushed his eyelids open and blackness consumed his field of vision. His chest tightened and panic flared in his head. He groped the space around him trying to find a handhold. Had he gone blind?

A jolt of pain lurched across his arms and back. He reached for Elan's magic. It wouldn't come. "General Demos," he said, desperation lacing his words.

His voice echoed across a vast chamber. No response came in return.

"General Demos can't hear you," a voice said.

He turned his head searching for the voice. "Who said that?"

No response came.

"Why can't I see you?" He said.

"You've but to open your eyes," the voice said.

"What? My eyes are open."

The voice fell silent.

"Can you help me?"

"You don't belong here," the voice said.

"Where am I?" He tried to move his legs and pain flared.

"You are nowhere."

"I don't understand."

"Why have you come here?" The voice said.

"I need your help," he said. "I'm sick. My soul thread is tainted."

"You don't belong here and I won't help you," the presence said.

His stomach dropped. "I've reached the end then. I'm out of choices."

A long silence fell in the chamber before the presence spoke again. "Your life is nothing but a series of choices. You've arrived here because of your poor choices."

"That's not true," he said. "I'm here because the world needs me. My friends and family need me. The world is facing desperate times and I'm a desperate man."

"You've brought this on yourself," the voice said. "I have no pity for you."

His chest tightened and his body trembling. He would die here alone without Rika. Without his family. His life an utter failure. "Please...I would do anything," he said in a whimper.

For a long moment, silence hung heavy. "Only you can reverse the course of your destiny," the presence said. "If you're willing to pay the price, then perhaps I can lend aid. Even to one such as you.

Such as him? What did that mean?

"Your past holds the key to your future," the presence said. "Find the wrong to right and reverse your course."

What did the presence mean? "How? I don't understand."

"You can make but one choice," the presence said. "Choose."

The presence faded and his vision flashed replaced by a field of bright light.

Pain flared through his body.