The Labyrinth of the Dead (2 page)

There was a moment of quiet as Claire’s
voice faded away and the whirlwind seemed to hold its breath. Portia glanced
back. Cadmus nodded grimly. She gazed down at Imogen, memorizing once more
every inch of her face, her hair, her clothing, her body.

"Godspeed, child," the captain
whispered, touching his fist to his lips, then his heart.

Portia stepped over the threshold and the door
slammed shut behind her.

—2—

THE GREY field stretched out in all directions, shrouded
in a heavy fog that crept along the ground. It was empty; there was no cottage,
only a subtle, slightly square depression in the earth like the faintest of
echoes. Portia had tumbled through the screaming wind and landed heavily in the
stunted, brittle grass. Shaking herself clean of the clinging debris, she
reached into her bag, rummaging through all the little pockets and pouches
until she put her fingers around the large stick of resin. She no longer needed
to speak the invocation to bring it to life; it flared into a warm golden glow
at once. The gentle light did little to diffuse the thick shadows, but it was a
comfort nonetheless. She surveyed her surroundings. The only break in the
ground-covering fog was the stand of trees reaching spiny black branches into
the hazy sky. She moved toward them, marking the number of steps it took. But
as she approached, she saw a road, narrow and rutted. In the Penemue of
sunshine and life, it was a broad farm track; here, it was nothing but a
forgotten path through the dead field and perpetual fog.

The voice startled her. It was a lusty,
full-throated call that emerged from the fog ahead of a sprightly figure, a
young woman just out of childhood. Warily, Portia backed into the long shadows
of the trees, setting one knee down into the stiff grass that threatened to
poke her through the durable cotton twill. She tucked the glowing resin into
the wide sleeve of her surplice jacket, dousing the light. The girl skipped
down the road, kicking up a weak cloud of dust as she swung her arms and sang.
She slowed as she reached the trees and made a protective sign. Portia kept
still, wanting to observe but not alarm her. The young woman moved carefully
around even the shadows of the trees, her eyes narrowed as she tried to pierce
the gloom. From the shadows, Portia could see the girl’s eyes were the color of
the fog around them, a pearly grey. Once clear of the perceived danger, the
young woman moved on, singing once more.

"You are new here. You stink. You reek
of the living, like sweat and bone and blood." The voice was neither male nor
female, but something elemental and grating. What breath it had was cold and
stirred the hairs on the back of Portia’s neck.

She tilted her head just enough to see
the figure that stood before the tree. Or stood within the tree—they somehow
seemed to occupy the same space. It sighed like branches rubbing against one
another, and the tree creaked loudly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for someone," Portia answered
as she shifted into a crouch facing the voice.

"There are a lot of someones
here."

"Good."

"I could help. Many pass through here."

"I appreciate the offer, but I need to
do this on my own."

"Alone is
dangerous here. You need company. I need company." The arms that reached for
her had twisted black twigs instead of fingers.

Portia ducked and scurried backward out
of its shadow. The moment she was clear of it, the spectral figure faded and
there was nothing but a lifeless tree before her once more.

"You must be new not to know the dangers
of speaking to trees." The girl had returned. She stood well clear of the
tree’s shadow and regarded Portia with a bemused smile. She was a slender lass,
but muscularly built in a way that reminded Portia of the tightrope walkers of
the circus. Her dark hair curled into fat corkscrews that had been cut just
below her chin. "I’m called Kanika here." She extended her hand.

"Here? As opposed to where else?"

"We all take new names here, mainly
because we usually don’t remember what we were called before."

"Is it always like that?"

The girl grinned tauntingly. "What did
they call you when you lived and breathed?"

"Portia. And I still both live and
breathe."

Kanika straightened, looking quite
shocked and even disappointed. "And I suppose you shall also persist in this
name of yours?"

"It is important that I do."

"So the person you’re looking for might
remember you?"

"Yes."

Kanika grinned. "Wonder how I knew
that?"

"I assume you overheard me when I was
talking to the tree."

"Well, yes. But you have that look about
you. Folks come in here all the time to look, thinking they can bring someone
back. Necromancers and the like. It doesn’t end well." She shook her head,
sending her sprightly curls bouncing across her heart-shaped face.

"Where are you headed, Kanika? You’re
right that I am new around here and I don’t know my way around at all. Is there
a town or village nearby?"

She laughed, melodically. "Sure thing
you aren’t from here! Now there is a place where we spirits congregate. I guess
you might call it a city of some sort. I am heading that way and I wouldn’t
mind company." She gave Portia a long look through coal-colored lashes and
waited with a coy smile playing around her lips.

"Now, my dear mistress Kanika, I
haven’t time for games or for courtship. The one I seek here is the love of my
life."

The girl shrugged, her smile never
wavering. "Sure thing. But you must realize, there is no life here. And truth
be told, if your love is here and not moved on, my guess is that your beloved
has either forgotten you or has bedded down with the next available
replacement. Loyalty is scarce in these parts."

"Not hers."

"Well, then. Shall we go on together?
Such good company as yours is few and far between."

Kanika set off down the narrow track at
a fast clip, singing loudly once more. She explained between verses that the
demons and other creatures that hunted in these parts were quite put off by
music. "So if you don’t want to be eaten, you’ll be quick with the ditties."

"If travel is so dangerous, why have
you risked it all alone?"

Kanika’s voice stumbled in its song and she shot Portia a
look that spoke volumes.

"It was important," was all she said
after a long moment. "I, too, am looking for something. Or someone."

Portia laughed despite herself. "Well,
which is it? A something or a someone?"

"Either, I suppose. I guess the
someone. Since the something seems to be gone now."

"I’m sorry."

Kanika did not answer, she only walked
on, her eyes focused on the little puffs of dust that roiled up around her
tiny, slippered feet. "What’s the worst is that if I
could have found it, you could have been the someone to help me."

"Me? What could I do for you? I don’t
even know you."

Looking ever more the lost little girl,
Kanika turned to Portia with awed tears glistening on her lashes. "Don’t you
know what you are? Can’t you see yourself?"

Portia held out her hands and examined
them front and back. "I am me. I only see myself as I always do."
But not as
I always have.

Kanika shook her head, disbelieving.
"You know, you didn’t need to tell me that you yet live, I could tell anyway.
You shine here, Portia. You glow. The magnitude of your power is tremendous.
You’re in danger here, a target. And you can’t even see it." She stopped and
looked Portia up and down once more. "This quest you’ve put yourself on, it
will not be easy for you. I know what you are. I know the stories.
Bene
‘elim.
You are
not supposed to be here because you are not supposed to die, not like this,
anyway, not like ordinary people. Angel-souls
don’t come here. But," she said, smiling, "that means I know who you are
looking for."

"You do?" Portia’s heart pounded,
afraid that the name Kanika would speak would be
Nigel
.

"Yes. She’s the one like you. The one
with the angel’s soul."

A modicum of tension left Portia’s
shoulders. Not Nigel. And she had seen Imogen…unless she meant Hester. "So
you’ve seen her?"

"I have."

"Can you tell me where she is?"

"If I wanted to, yes."

"I see. How do I know you’re not just
telling me this so I will be beguiled into helping you?

Kanika sighed. "That’s hardly fair. Why
would you think I was trying to trick you?"

"Let’s just say I’m not the trusting
type."

"Your one true love has red hair. Tall.
Very pretty eyes, green, at least the last time I saw them anyway."

Portia let out a long breath. Imogen
had indeed passed through here. "And what would convince you to tell me her
whereabouts, Kanika dear?"

"I don’t know yet. But maybe I can
think of something."

Portia sighed. "Somehow,
I get the feeling that you’ll have no trouble coming up with what you consider
a fair price for your information."

"It’ll have to be a price that you’d be
willing to pay. But from what I read in your eyes, I could ask for anything.
You shouldn’t show yourself to be too willing. This is a dark place, and others
would be eager to take their advantage."

"But not you."

"Oh, no! Never!" She actually looked
aghast, for an instant. "But we trade in favors here. Favors and shadow-gold."

"What’s shadow-gold?"

"Not a necromancer, are you?"

"No. Hadn’t you guessed as much
already, my clever girl?"

Kanika pointed toward the hazy outline
of a large building on the horizon. "You’ll find out all about it when we get
to the city."

Portia followed her gaze. There, in a
low valley, she could see the edges of buildings through the mist. It was right
where Penemue ought to have been, but instead of the regal chapter house and
the village nestled at its feet, there were only jagged shapes and foreign
outlines of a town in ruins.

She nodded. "Then let’s be on our way."

The bleak path was intersected by a
scrubby patch of trees that in the Penemue of the living world was a thriving
orchard, one of several in and around the village. Here, Portia observed, Kanika’s confidence shrank and she forced a smile to her
lips and began to sing once more. It was an unnerving melody full of strange
little notes that did not seem to have any relationship to the ones that
preceded or followed. It in fact sounded somewhat like a melody Portia knew
from childhood, but sung backward.

"Sing!" Kanika hissed at her.

So Portia joined in, only she sang the
tune the right way around, and it made for a most disharmonic experience. But
the moment they set foot within the shadows of the spindly trees, the moaning
began. The sound quickly increased to a loud gibbering that sent chills rolling
across Portia’s flesh. She turned to ask Kanika if perhaps there was not
another way through—she could think of about a dozen back ways into the center
of Penemue and several of them did not involve going near any trees—but the
girl was standing, frozen, in the middle of the path. The finger-branches
already reached for her.

Racing to her side, Portia intercepted
the first branch and snapped the twigs back in a single, practiced motion. The
tree howled, the very bark writhing with pain. That was when she saw the faces.
Dozens of eyes looked woefully at her with woody lids and mossy lashes. Mouths
like knotholes keened and the whole tree undulated in suffering and anger.
Portia slapped away two more clawing offshoots from other trees and brought her
forearm down hard on a weak spot on a third. The branch splintered and fell
into the dirt with a heavy
thump
that sounded more like meat hitting the
ground than wood.

"Kanika, run!"

The girl’s eyes grew wide and she
nodded, a small smile curving her lips as she dashed forth, making for the far
end of the orchard. Portia watched her go, not willing to give an inch of
ground until the girl was safely away. The trees, it seemed, couldn’t have
cared less for Kanika and made no effort to stop her. Instead, they focused all
of their malice on Portia. Sharp, hand-like twigs came at her from all
directions. Portia tucked the canvas satchel safely into the folds of her
jacket and pulled a set of goggles from an interior pocket. She drew them
snugly down over her eyes and dropped into an easy crouch.

"If you want me, you’ll have to come
and get me."

Enraged, the braches attacked wildly,
swinging for her eyes and snapping their ends on the tempered glass lenses.
Portia blocked and struck as she slowly inched toward the open sky ahead. Her
cautious movements escaped notice for a time, but then one of the arboreal
beasts reached out and clamped its spiny digits around her throat, dragging her
back; its neighbor reached out to help reel in the prey.