Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 20

"Funny. My eyesight is perfect. So what's with the letter?"

"Gee, I don't know . . . maybe that's because I haven't read it yet. You might've noticed it was sealed."

Rex shrugged. "Might've. So?"

Emma made a grab for it. "Let me read it."

I gave up, let it slip through my fingers, and fell back onto my pillows as Emma cleared her throat, intending to read it aloud. "OhmiG.o.d, that is so freaky! She knew I'd read this to you! How cool is that? I just got goose b.u.mps. Okay, starting over . . .

Since your daughter is reading this to you, I will behave. Charlie, I write this because my end has been revealed. I cannot see yours nor all the events that will lead me to mine-I only know that it will happen and I must follow the path Fate has laid out for me. I have, however, seen a glimpse of Death, and your future, when you drew it here last night to my club (thanks for listening by the way. You owe me three grand in damages).

Sachath will soon recognize you as divine, and, stating the obvious here: it will kill you unless you kill it first. It's you or it, Charlie. Plain and simple, no?

Ask yourself why it has been so successful, why the Archons themselves feared it. Not even they had the power to end its existence. Therefore, neither do you. Though, in a roundabout way, you do. Makes you crazy, doesn't it? Welcome to my life.

Here's the thing. I see random bits and pieces. I don't see the complete picture. But (and I hate to say this) the things I have seen tell me that (gag) you and I bond, become (gag, again) friends, so I want to help you. Who knew, right? You will hurt for me, which is nice to know. I hurt now even though I don't understand all of it.

Just know that I will be with my sister Fates in the end, and the prophecies I will continue to give will be more powerful than ever (if such a thing is possible, because, h.e.l.lo, World's Best Oracle here).

And remember this: the Creator didn't account for everything.

Bye, Charlie. I don't get to say that in the end, so I'm saying it here.

~ Sandra.

P.S. I hope you find your siren.

P.P.S. On the three grand: I take cash, credit cards, and checks. Just give it to Tuni.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, feeling a sting in my throat and behind my eyelids. My chest felt like it had been punched. I wanted to laugh and cry, and wished to G.o.d that Sandra was still around so I could shake her and hug her. d.a.m.ned oracle.

After a heavy moment, Emma cleared her throat and said, "So you have to figure out how to kill this Death person. And what's an Archon?"

I sat up to find her sitting cross-legged, the letter in her lap, a thoughtful expression on her cute face, and a dimple in her cheek that told me she was biting the inside like I often did. I stayed quiet, not about to clue my kid into the fact that First Ones still existed, but I couldn't deny the threat that Sachath posed.

"But you won't be able to," she continued, however, not waiting for me to answer. "But you kind of can."

"Frustrating, isn't it?" Rex told her. "Oracles are always like that. Take my advice, avoid them at all costs."

I told them about Sandra's prophecy. Accept yourself to make the shadow whole . . . together, together . . . but not by your hand . . . and death will come to death . . .

"So, if you accept yourself, you make the shadow whole . . ." Rex said, resting his chin on the teepee of his fingers. "Whole could mean physical. If it's physical, flesh and blood, it can be killed."

"And accepting yourself could just mean all your powers coming together or something," Em said. "And not by your hand . . . does that mean you use your power, Mom? Like from a distance? I don't get it."

I sighed. I'd already worked most of what they were saying out for myself. "I don't, either." And I needed to work it out because I sure as h.e.l.l couldn't call Sachath here to fight unless I knew how to defeat it.

"The oracle seems certain you become divine," Rex observed.

I'd definitely come into a strange sort of power in Fiallan; the fact that I could use my arm with the same effect as Ahkneri's sword; the fact that everything seemed to work together inside of me to make that happen. It hadn't been just one power, but all of them, everything inside of me, all the human and off-world genes coming together. And I was starting to suspect that I'd had a little help in that department from a certain earth sylph who had once told me I was fractured on the inside and offered to fix me. I'd temporarily been given the gift of Nwyvre, the Hidden Element, in order to save my sister Bryn, and now I was starting to believe it had brought peace to the warring powers inside of me, made me whole.

"How much homework do you have?" I asked Emma.

"A ton. Geometry and more Geometry, Astrology, and I have to study for a Crafting Vocab quiz tomorrow."

"You'd better get started, then," I said.

Since it was only four o'clock in the afternoon, and Sandra's letter burned in my brain, I decided to pay a visit to the one being I knew had some answers. "I need to make a quick stop at the Grove and grab another cell phone from the station." I already had a duplicate ID, badge, and weapons at the house, but the cell would have to be configured with my old number and contacts by the tech guy at the station. "How about I pick up a pizza on the way back and then I can help you study? Sound good?"

"Two pizzas," Rex said.

"One cheese," Emma said.

"One with everything. And get some of those breadsticks," Rex added. "And you've got yourself a deal."

I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and then held out my arms to Emma. "Hug."

After a long, tight hug, I kissed the top of Emma's head and smoothed the wispy hairs that had escaped her ponytail. "Missed you, kid."

"Missed you, too."

Rex cleared his throat. The lifted, expectant eyebrow and the exasperated look in his lavender eyes had me nudging his foot with mine. "I know," I said. "You missed me, too."

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, but his lips curved into an attractive smile. He promptly removed his feet, stood, bent over, and kissed my forehead. "I did, actually." And then he walked from the room, calling out, "And don't forget the breadsticks, woman!"

Em laughed. "He's so weird."

18.

"You can't hold your breath that long."

"That's bulls.h.i.t and you know it. The lake's not that deep. And besides, all you have to do is blink me in. You're the Druid King, so I know you can do it."

Pendaran and I stood in his private quarters, away from the main temple and courtyard. The breeze over the lake stirred the white curtains that hung on either side of the large opening to Pen's private dock. He stood framed in the s.p.a.ce while giving me his lame-a.s.s excuses.

"You're being a bit overprotective, aren't you?" I asked. It was one thing to keep Ahkneri hidden and protected from the outside world-it was detrimental, in fact. But I wasn't just anyone. I had every right to see her if I wanted to, more right than him for sure.

Pen turned and glowered at me, and I had to grudgingly admit, he was intimidating. Maybe if I hadn't seen him turn into a dragon, things would be different, but once that image was seared into my mind, it was hard not to be a little leery of the guy.

"My borders are being crossed. My kin are at risk. Protective?" he asked mockingly. "d.a.m.ned right I am. Why do you want to see her?"

"I just want to talk to her, to try and communicate. I have things I need to ask her, and she's the only one who can answer." If she chose to. "Look, I'm the one who wanted her protected in the first place. I'm lying to my boss and my superiors; I even lied to my own kid to keep her secret. Letting me in that cave won't change anything, but it might save my life, which I'm kind of partial to, so . . ."

He stared at the water, arms crossed over his chest, profile as stubborn as his body language. "I stay with you the entire time."

"Fine." Even though we'd been through battle together and had trusted each other, it didn't mean Pen trusted me with this. I supposed I couldn't blame him. Anything could happen in that cave. h.e.l.l, if Ahkneri decided she wanted to take a tour of Atlanta's hot spots, who was I to say she couldn't take over my mind and make me release her? There were things that could go wrong. Very wrong. Having the Druid King by my side was a bonus.

Pen faced me, placed his gigantic hands on my jacket-clad shoulders, and we were off.

"Don't move yet." His deep voice filled the darkness as my weight settled back into me. "The floor is rocky."

A light flared, followed by another. Sconces on the damp bedrock walls held dancing arcane light. It was green and dim, but enough to allow me to see.

The underwater cave was enormous, holding a huge air pocket deep beneath the lake. Water dripped in loud echoes. It wasn't cold like I'd expected, but warm and humid. Pen reached out and snagged my hand. "This way." He pulled me along like I was an errant child, still reluctant to have me in his private s.p.a.ce.

The cave floor was uneven and filled with loose rocks. Even though I didn't like being led around, I was grateful for the strength of Pen's hand since it kept me from falling and twisting my ankle on more than one occasion.

Lights flared as we pa.s.sed between rocks as high as my shoulder, finally coming to Ahkneri's resting place.

Pen stopped and released my hand.

I'd forgotten how stunning the sarcophagus was, how large and significant. The thing had been carved out of one enormous piece of agate, so smooth it gleamed in various colors of honey, flaxen, and cream. Not a single marking lined the body. Only the thick agate lid bore a line of script around its perimeter-the same type of script on my arm.

As beautiful as it appeared, I now understood it for what it really was: a prison.

"I'll wait over here." Pen's deep voice echoed in the cave as he picked his way over the rocks to a flat oval depression in the ground. I shouldn't have been unprepared when he shifted into his dragon form, but just seeing it took me by surprise.

The light bounced off his black scales as he circled and then lay down, giant jaw resting on his front legs, wings folded against his back. He was so large I could hear his breathing from where I stood and see the slits of his nostrils move in and out with each breath. His eyes blinked and then stared at me calmly, quietly, that weird abalone color filtering across the irises.

Ahkneri hung at the edges of my mind, always that welcome, that whisper of acknowledgment. I turned back to the sarcophagus. Now that I knew more of what she'd gone through thanks to Sandra and the dream I'd had in Fiallan, I wanted her to be free. She'd been totally shafted. All she'd wanted was to live her own life, and to suffer like this was unimaginable and unfair.

Would this be my eventual fate? The thought left me a bit sick to my stomach.

I need to know, Ahkneri. I placed my hand on the smooth agate and pleaded in my mind. I need to know how to defeat Sachath. Part of me thought the obvious: if she knew, then she would've defeated it a long time ago. But then knowing and actually doing were two different things.

I felt her smile. Weird, that. Please. Tell me.

I will show you instead.

Immediately, I was taken out of time and reality. I wasn't sure if my body was still standing there in the cave or if I was really standing, in the physical sense, on the wide, level rock on a vast red plateau. But I sensed I was just a visitor, not part of the scene, not able to affect or alter anything around me.

Not that I could move if I tried. The scene playing on the plateau rooted me to the spot.

Ahkneri was there, dressed in some bada.s.s black armor and it wasn't the polished, gleaming type; it was dented, bloodied, and spiked. Her black hair was in two long braids; she had what looked like war paint on her face-stylized symbols slashed across one cheekbone and around the corner of one eye. She held Urzenemelech in her hand, and the blade glowed like my arm had glowed.

She and five others, four males and a female, all armored, all wielding swords, fought against what I knew had to be Sachath, only it wasn't just shadow, it was like them, a physical body, but male and without the armor. The shadows were there, too, like an extension of its body, seeping from its skin like smoke, swirling around it, lashing out. The shadows were its armor and its weapons.

Red dust flew in the wind, grunts and steel echoed over the plateau. The fight was hard, nasty, and brutal.

It appeared as though they worked in three pairs. Each pair consisted of one without a helmet and one with. Ahkneri and a male. The other female and a male, and then the two males. The two females and male who fought without helmets were on point, and their partners worked in rotation with them, defending, giving them time to regroup and attack when necessary.

I was pretty sure since Ahkneri was without one, that the ones without helmets were First Ones, and the ones with were Disciples, and they were no less intimidating than the divine beings they protected.

The shadows flowing from Sachath got a piece of the male First One, slicing through his arm, severing it. It fell, still gripping the sword. Before he could dodge, the shadows curled around him, enveloping him, and then like some f.u.c.king porcupine, shot him through with spiky shadows wherever there was a break or weakness in the armor. The First One's wings shot out-wings as white as snow-released in panic, fear, death, I didn't know, but a scream erupted in my head as light burst from the body. It happened so fast, like a vicious blur, and it was done. The First One was dead, dropped to the ground, discarded.

s.h.i.t. My heart pounded as his Disciple roared with fury, attacking with a pa.s.sion and speed that was incredible to witness. He rolled, coming up with the First One's severed arm still gripping the sword. He shoved it into Sachath's side. A spine-chilling screech filled the plateau as the creature stumbled back. I held my breath. It was wounded. It could be wounded.

A shadow lashed out and decapitated the Disciple. The helmet rolled, skipping over rocks before coming to a stop several feet from the battle.

Ahkneri and the other female lunged at the wounded Sachath, pressing the advantage. Ahkneri closed in and they fought with such pace, it was like watching a battle on fast forward. The two Disciples rotated in; Ahkneri's Disciple took over and was stabbed clean through the armpit as he lifted his sword arm. The shadow came out through his opposite shoulder blade. His sword clattered to the ground. The shadow withdrew and the Disciple crumpled to the red ground.

The other female First One rotated in and delivered a vengeful blow, her blade sinking straight into Sachath's heart.

Ahkneri screamed, "No!"

I knew it was a killing blow.

Sachath looked down in surprise and then its face became more animated, more humanlike. Emotion poured into its eyes as its shadows reached out and pulled the First One close. "Forgive me, sister," it said before darkness threaded its way from the wound, wrapped around her sword, covering her hand and then scurrying up her arm, covering her like a horde of insects.

The female's Disciple went berserk, hacking at Sachath, attacking, trying to save her, but he was tossed like a rag doll. He landed forty feet away, the crash of his armor loud in the sudden quiet.

Ahkneri lowered her sword and began backing up.

That is why we cannot kill it. Strike a deathblow, and you become Death. It's a fail-safe. To ensure there is only one outcome-the total annihilation of my kind. When the last one of us is dead, Sachath will return to the Creator.

Ahkneri's black wings shot out as she moved slowly away from Sachath. Then she turned in my direction, and ran. Supernaturally fast. Arms pumping. Face determined and haunted. She took flight, shooting past me, the tip of her wing pa.s.sing through my shoulder, heading for the Disciple who'd been thrown.

He was flat on his back, but jerked suddenly and woke swinging, as if from a nightmare, a broken cry on his lips. He struggled to his feet, jerked the helmet from his head, and flung it, roaring his pain to the sky. His golden hair was damp with sweat and blood, and his power and grief were so raw that his cry seemed to rip the air apart. And for a moment, I thought I was looking at Leander, but then Ahkneri's wings swept in, blocking him from view. She grabbed him and flew away.

The scene retreated as though I was being pulled away along with Ahkneri and the Disciple.

I returned to the cave, swaying slightly at the sudden disorientation, and having to grab on to the sarcophagus for support. Pen's dragon head lifted. He watched me with solemn eyes as I bent over and tried to get my wild pulse under control.

I felt like I'd been in battle myself for how shaken I was and how hard my heart pounded. Ahkneri had allowed me to see something of great significance. All of it brutal and unbelievable. All of it needing a moment to sink in, which I took.

That was the last battle ever fought with Sachath. You can kill the creature, Charlie, but you will take its place if you do. You will become Death. Sachath can only be killed with a divine weapon. No one but us can wield them. And yet, you strike the blow, and you take its place. Another fail-safe.

I thought for a long moment. What about someone else, can someone other than a First One kill Sachath?

As you saw, the Disciple delivered a blow with a divine sword that wounded the creature. Had he held the sword, however, it would've killed him. There were times in battle when Disciples attempted to slay the creature with our weapons . . . suicide, they knew, but just one moment was all we'd need, just one killing blow that did not come from our hand . . . and yet that blow never came. We tried everything, coordinated attacks, launching our weapons from afar, but our weapons are an extension of us. Struck by hand or afar, the killing blow still kills the weapon's owner and another Sachath rises. If another were to use my sword and kill the creature, I'd still become Death, wherever I was.

What about using a sword from a First One already gone? I asked. Sachath would die, and there'd be no First One to change into Death.

It was a thought that worked better in theory. No one can wield our swords, Charlie. And most, even if they could for a few minutes, did not have the strength to defeat Sachath in that short period of time.

What about other races, I went on, their powers, can they harm it?

We fought Sachath at a time when other races were in their infancy. There are primal powers perhaps strong enough, but Sachath is . . . perfect.

Anything else you can tell me?