49

CANDLE

In Death's Other Kingdom

Gwavas Keep was overflowing with people. All of them were hurrying about their business with nervous energy. Candle had never known that there were so many members of the Ancestors' Own. The Mester must have called in every available man and woman from their field posts in the fell. The corridors were so crowded there was barely space to breathe. All of the training rooms were full of people working, sleeping and eating, and there was a large contingent from Crows' Nest and Jolling the Tinkers set up in the rooms usually set aside for Devotions.

Walking through the confusion with Jotham was a strange and rather unsettling experience. Stealth did not come naturally to Jotham and he strode through the place as if he owned it, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. Candle had managed to convince him to wear a cloak and hood of the Own's cut and style, which he had donned after some half-hearted protestations. His illusion runes had made sure no one recognised their faces. Candle wasn't scared, but she didn't want Jotham to hurt anyone who might have the audacity to try and stop them either. After his recent display in the mess, his face must be well known. Fortunately everyone seemed intent on their own business and they were able to make their way through the front doors and down to the relative peace and quiet of the lower levels without incident.

Jotham lingered at the spring in the bedrock, looking at the still waters with great interest.

"This is the pool you were in?" he asked, golden eyes fixed on the calm surface of the water. "With the runes that showed at twilight?"

Candle nodded, eager to be gone from that place that held so many recent terrors but Jotham refused to be hurried. The glow from his witch lights bounced off the surface of the water and cast a soft luminescence scattering across the cave in shades of blues and green.

"Come on," she said, pulling his arm daringly, but it was like trying to move a mountain. She stopped tugging with a sigh and went up to the edge of the pool. She made sure to avoid looking at the spot where her brother had so recently spent the last moments of his life.

"I stood right there," she said, pointing.

"On the bottom?"

She nodded and he walked over to peer intently into the water. To her intense relief he then seemed to lose interest and allowed Candle to lead him down to the bottom-most level of the Keep.

The place was empty, dusty and gloomy with an air of neglect that Jotham's dancing witch lights did little to dissipate. Candle looked around.

"There's nothing here."

"So now we look for a magically concealed doorway," said Jotham. "And by we, I mean you." He laughed, but his eyes remained serious. "If there are levels below this one, and I'm almost sure that there are, the door won't be in plain view. And since the ability to detect glamour is unusual in the extreme...your eyes are our best bet of finding it."

They set about searching systematically. Lots of the cells were used for storage or had dusty piles of old canvas or crates piled in them. Candle was happy that Jotham was there to help lift everything, and the search went quickly as they worked their way along the floor. After half an hour or so Candle's eye was drawn to a spot of rough stone wall that glimmered faintly. It was hidden behind some empty barrels, in a locked cell, that was indistinguishable from all the others. Jotham snapped the lock off with his fingers, and together, they moved the barrels aside.

"Well?" asked Jotham, staring blankly the stone wall in front of him.

"Here," said Candle. Gleefully, she pressed her fingers against the wall. Meeting no resistance, she pushed and her hand went through into empty air beyond. She grinned back at Jotham and slipped through the nonexistent wall with her whole body. She instantly regretted the decision not to wait for him. The space beyond was pitch black and she froze in place, afraid to move until the large man arrived with his lights. They illuminated an old stone corridor blocked by a massive iron door held in place by a single deadbolt. They pushed it open, to reveal a gently sloping corridor that led down into the dark. There was a slight movement in the air that promised a large space beyond. They walked in silence, their sounds footsteps crunching against the dry stone.

"Someone knows about this place," said Jotham, after a while.

"Someone is maintaining that glamour," said Candle. "That magic was fresh."

They walked on, down a crumbling stone staircase that was the twin of the one at Dawn Watch, complete with crumbling pillars. At the bottom the smooth walls gave way to a natural cave system. Stalactites hugged the ceiling and water dripped slowly and insistently down crystallised rock structures. The rocks gleamed as they passed, before vanishing back into the gloom as the light left them. The pathway turned narrow, and the walls fell away and soon they were crossing a narrow chasm that fell away steeply on either side. Candle leaned over to look down and Jotham grabbed her by the arm as she stumbled. The bottom was too far away to see, the gap stretching away into nothingness.

On the other side of the chasm bridge the rough walls returned and they passed through a doorway into more ancient crumbling passageways. These chambers were different from those directly under the Keep - they were cut from a darker, denser stone, and the walls were sorted into alcoves. Each wall was filled with empty, oblong spaces, that yawned in the darkness. A few fragments of pottery were scattered here and there but not much else. Candle blinked, and for a moment each alcove was occupied by rags and bones. There were so many of them, and she stumbled in shock, rubbing at her eyes. When she opened them again the vision was gone, although her unease remained.

"What is this place?" she asked shivering. It was cold and breathlessly still. The hairs on the back of her neck refused to lie down, and she kept checking over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. She was terribly glad of Jotham's company, and the warmth and timbre of his voice when he spoke. She wondered if they were the only living things for miles.

"A crypt," said Jotham. "It's a crypt." He prowled between the stone passages and sniffing disapprovingly at the empty cavities in the walls. "No bodies, though," he said. "I've seen places like this before. At home - in the Night Nation."

"Do you think we will find Belias? His body, I mean."

"I am hopeful we will find his final resting place - look!"

He brushed his fingers along the stone by the nearest alcove. Half hidden in the shadows was a rune, carved in the rock. "The names of people who were laid to rest here," he said eagerly.

Candle shivered again. She wanted more than anything to be free of her demon, but the thought of finding an actual body, or even the dusty desiccated remains of one, seemed horrific. Not sending the dead to their rest through the ritual of fire seemed totally barbaric.

They continued along examining each crypt for marks. The names were old, presumably from before the Dissever. She recognised one or two and wondered with a shudder if any of her distant Ancestors had ever lain here on a cold stone slab for a final resting place.

They passed along the chamber and into another passage. Rounding a corner they both came to a sudden stop. An elaborate and well cared for altar was laid out in a cold stone room. A wealth of candles illuminated a simple painting of a sweet looking girl, perhaps fourteen years of age with a warm and golden glow. The girl's features were Teurek, with the moon-pale skin of that race but her hair was red, rather than the usual white -blonde. It was red like a living flame and it glowed in the soft light of the candles. Candle had to admire the artistry of the painting. The artist had beautifully captured the girl's spirit and it was a thing of beauty, despite being cracked and yellowed with age. In the spaces between the paint, copper plate showed through, gleaming a little in the warm light of the candles. There were no personal objects on the altar, only the scores of candles and many, many vases of flowers. Candle touched a gentle finger to one of the petals in wonder, and not a little fear. The delicate blossoms seemed so completely out of place in this dusty tomb so far underground.

"These are fresh," she murmured. "Who comes down here to worship their Ancestor in a crypt?"

"Eisheth, I bet," said Jotham, eyeing the portrait warily. "I'd bet a treasure on it. Come on, the sooner we deal with Belias and get out of here, the better. I do not want to meet Eisheth down here."

Candle glanced over her shoulder at the girl's solitary portrait as they left, but the lonely altar was soon forgotten as in the very next place they found the crypt marked with Belias' name.

The hollow was empty, lined with dust like all the others. There was no body, nothing to mark the hollow of any importance, nothing to differentiate it from the other lonely cavities. Candle took out her silver and iron dagger, hands shaking.

"Do it," said Jotham, as she looked up at him, her heart thudding. "Let's see if we can finish this."

Candle swallowed, then gathered her courage in the darkness, her fist tightening on the dagger.

"Belias," she cried, and the demon appeared at her shoulder, a stain of darkness against the deeper black of the tomb.

"Did someone call my name?"

Candle plunged the dagger through the ink-black shadows of his body without hesitating. She hated everything about him, and she put all her frustration and anger and fear into the blow. She plunged it through the place where his maggoty heart would be, but her hand met with no resistance. She might as well have stabbed smoke from the fire or an illusion charm. She struck again, staring up at his hideous face, so close to hers. Nothing happened. She waved the blade through his head. He blinked at her, and his maw stretched wide into that ghastly grin she was beginning to know so well. The blood turned to ice in her veins.

"Did it work?" asked Jotham, stalking a wide circle around her, his feet making a dull thud on the stone which each step.

"No," said Candle. "It didn't work."

The dagger dropped out of her hand and clattered on the floor. Her stomach twisted and Belias laughed in her face as her stomach twisted. She would never be free of him - she had been foolish to dream.

"No," said Jotham, as if he could hear her thoughts. "Don't lose hope - I thought this might happen."

"Then why," she said, suddenly furious, "did you let me think it would work?"

"It will work," said Jotham, his voice calm. "You are just not quite in the right place."

She blinked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I hoped this would work," said Jotham. "I really did. I didn't tell you because the next step is so dangerous."

"What could be more dangerous than living with a demon?"

"I made one miscalculation. Belias is not here - his physical body is not here with us in the Twilight. He speaks to you from the Night. To kill him you will need to travel to the Night Nation."

Candle stared at him.

"But - I'm alive. Only the dead can travel to the Night Nation."

Jotham looked down at her, his eyes glowing molten in the gloom of the crypt.

"You know this is not true," he said. "I am not dead, and I have travelled there."

"The Gates? You said they were closed and guarded -"

He inclined his head.

"There are two ways to travel to the Night," he said. "Through fire and through water. Your living body would not survive the passage through fire. That passage is only available to the dead. The second way is through water. Water is a natural conduit for energy - you know this also. The Gates - the pathways between the worlds - when they are open it is indeed possible to travel between Twilight and Night without physically dying. I have only done this once, and it is not a course of action I would lightly recommend. The Night Nation would be dangerous in the extreme for a living human."

"You know where a Gate is?" Candle said. "You know how to open it? What about the Guardians?"

Jotham looked at her steadily, his eyes distant, then he roused himself as if coming to some decision.

"I am a Gate Guardian, and there is a Gate in my mountain. This is the treasure I protect. I will show you the way to the Night Nation if you wish to travel there."