A Guardian of Shadows (Revenant Wyrd Book 4) (8 page)

“Not impossible, but strange,” Pi answered Cianna, ignoring the exchange between Devenstar and their teacher.

“Not strange at all. Wyrded beings have an unusual effect on the wyrd of other creatures,” Flora said. “We all saw the kelpies travel through Clara that night she fell over the side of the bridge. It’s my belief that they might have brought her change on faster than was intended. I’m sure she wasn’t far off from the change naturally, but they certainly helped it along.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Devenstar folded his lanky form up beside his sister, staring at their teacher.

“She is in her trials. She is immortal. Clara should be fine.” Flora said.

“What did she do back there?” Cianna asked. It appeared she was the only one flummoxed by what Clara had done with the kelpies.

“Just a protection that extends to any sorcerer in their trials,” Flora waved a hand at Cianna as if to silence her. “Now hush, I’m scanning her to make sure she’s okay.”

She leveled a look at Clara, and her eyes grew unfocused, distant, as if she were seeing things none of them could. A few minutes later Flora came back to herself. “She will be fine,” she told them.

Pi slumped to the ground, relief etched on her face. She looked up at Cianna.

“Thank you,” Pi told her.

“No need to thank me. I’m sorry I acted like an ass.”

Pi shook her head. “You have a task at hand. An important one. It’s natural to be consumed with that. I think your pilgrimage isn’t so different from our trials after all.”

Cianna thought of the nightmares, the gruesome images she saw in her sleep. The way the dead would come to her, harassing her when she wasn't moving fast enough for them. She thought of the power pulling her on. She looked down at Clara, who appeared asleep, but was deep in the grip of something Cianna couldn’t understand.

Cianna hoped that nightmares and wythes were the worst of what she would have to face. She looked toward the Barrier Mountains on the distant side of the Realm of Fire and shook her head. Who knew what she would find when she entered the Necromancers’ Mosque?

“I hope you’re right.”

The hecklin gathered at the fence of the Haunted Graveyard, not bothering to try to enter the cemetery. Still they barked, still they howled. It was different seeing them in their natural habitat. When they were in the Realm of Earth, Angelica hadn't been able to see them, since their white fur blended with the surrounding fog. Here, in the total darkness only split by the occasional pool of sunflower light, their fur nearly glowed with power. A chaotic power.

Their inaction put Angelica on edge.

“Should we be bothered that the chaotic creatures are afraid of this place?” she wondered aloud.

“Do you think this is like the Mirror of the Moon?” Jovian asked, looking around at the vine-covered tombstones, crumbling in disrepair. It was evident by the long clumps of grass and the accumulation of sunflowers further in that no one took care of this graveyard. In fact, there were so many sunflowers growing on a building at the center of the Haunted Graveyard that it radiated like the sun had come to rest there.

“What do you mean?” Joya asked, gazing at the brightness in the middle of the graveyard.

“Well, the Mirror of the Moon is the heart of the Sacred Forest; what if the Haunted Graveyard is the heart of the Haunted Forest?” Jovian asked.

“Hmm, I hadn’t really thought about it,” Joya told him. “I want to know what’s in that building.” Joya's feet carried her closer to the center.

Uthia grabbed her, her black and white bark almost glowing in the darkness of the graveyard. She pulled Joya away from her current path, and closer to the group.

“No you don’t, sorceress.” Uthia warned her. Overhead a sizzle of lightning flitted between the racing clouds.

“What's in it?” She turned to the dryad.

Uthia didn’t break her gaze from the building. She started shoving dirt into knotholes on her legs, holes that Angelica didn’t remember seeing before. Could it be that Uthia could alter her shape to suit her purposes? It was unnatural. Angelica shivered, trying to envision a person doing that, and couldn’t help seeing bloody pockets filled with dirt and worms.

“There is a protector in this graveyard. A powerful dalua.” The dryad told them all.

“And that's what lives in the building?” Joya said, turning back to the glowing structure.

“No, she rests on the altar just before it.”

“The statue?” Angelica asked.

Uthia nodded. “If you get too close, she will come alive.”

“So a gargoyle,” Jovian said.

Uthia nodded again.

“Is that why there are so many sunflowers around?” Joya wondered.

“What do you mean?” Jovian asked his sister.

“Well, we’ve never seen such a gathering of sunflowers before, have we? It’s almost like it was planted there intentionally.”

“So?” Angelica asked.

“Gargoyles only come to life at night. But it is always night-like here, right?” Joya said. “Maybe someone planted them there to keep the gargoyle frozen, make her think it was always daylight.”

Uthia was nodding. “True as that might be, she still comes to life when someone gets too near. Must have to do with the power bestowed upon her.”

“What happened here? It looks like it was once a thriving place; why is it abandoned now?” Jovian wondered.

Uthia shrugged.

“It has to do with the gargoyle,” Joya said.

“How do you know?” Angelica asked.

“I don’t know!” Joya looked confused. “I just do.” That declaration seemed to scare Joya. “She was placed here as a protection when it was the Realm of Spirit. When spirit left the lands and the Shadow Realm came about, she saw everyone as a threat.”

Joya turned around, looking at the overrun cemetery. Worry at how she knew these things was apparent on her face. Angelica would bet that this knowledge wasn't part of her sorcery. She also didn't think it had anything to do with the psychic powers of the anakim, either.

“That makes sense,” Jovian agreed.

“That’s how it is,” Joya said. “She was placed here to keep it safe, and ended up destroying it by not letting anyone in.” Joya turned back to the building behind the gargoyle. “Except one person; the one who planted those sunflowers.”

Joya turned around, looking to each of the individuals she traveled with, as if she was expecting them to confirm what she had just said. None of them knew, so they didn't say anything.

“Who planted those sunflowers?” Jovian asked Joya, his interest apparent on his face. He thought she was on to something.

Joya started to shrug, but then thought about it. It seemed like she was listening to something inside her head. “The Realm Guardian?”

“That's impossible,” Uthia told them. “The Shadow Realm hasn't had a Realm Guardian for at least ten years now.”

“How is that possible?” Joya wondered.

“I don't know. There's a lot of fighting, a lot of division. Very little semblance of rulership.” Uthia stood from her task of gathering the graveyard dirt. She gestured that everyone should fill their pockets. The hecklin were still at the fence, their barking and howling starting to diminish, knowing they wouldn't get to the humans while they were inside the Haunted Graveyard. Angelica worried about what would happen when they left. Would the hecklin's bloodlust get the better of them and render the dirt useless?

“Isn't there any kind of stewardship?” Joya wondered.

“I really couldn't tell you. The Shadow Realm is a world of its own. Logic would say that yes, there is some kind of ruler in place when there isn't a Realm Guardian, but it obviously isn't working from what I've heard from my sister dryads who call these woods home.”

Joya looked around, uncertain.

“But how?” Angelica asked. “I still don't understand how you know these things.”

“Angelica,” Joya said. “You and Jovian have had so many strange occurrences with psychic powers; isn't it possible that mine are starting to bloom?”

Angelica shrugged.

“But something strange is happening here, Joya,” Jovian said to her. “Ours started as dreams, fanciful daydreams. We had to take a drug-induced trip to see Baba Yaga. Our things never manifest like this, except in the Mirror of the Moon.”

“Well, maybe this place is strong like the Mirror of the Moon,” Joya argued. “Maybe you are right that this is the heart.”

“But I don't think we would have had any visions in the Mirror of the Moon if it hadn't been because of some interference from Amber's lingering energy,” Angelica pointed out.

“And what about your palms?” Jovian asked.

“And what you did with those shadows back there?” Angelica asked quietly. She hated being confronted with the strangeness of her family. Why couldn't they just be normal?

“I don't know how to answer that,” Joya said, casting her eyes to her feet.

“Maybe it's just the power of the anakim, like you said before.” Angelica hoped that's all it was. If the anakim had psychic powers, then wouldn't all of them have that to some degree?

“Maybe,” Joya said. She looked back at the mausoleum in the center of the graveyard, shining like a holy beacon. “I still would like to see what’s inside there.”

“Maybe you already know,” Jovian encouraged. “You know so much already. What is your head telling you is inside it?”

“Answers? And, strangely, home?” Joya tried to smile it away, but couldn't.

“What do you mean ‘home’?” Angelica asked. Her skin prickled with goose bumps.

“Angie, I really don't know. I just feel that inside there is a way out of
here
, maybe answers, and maybe home.”

“Like it will lead us out of the Shadow Realm and back to the plantation?” Jovian asked.

“Maybe?” She didn't know.

“What is the voice telling you?” Angelica asked.

“It isn't a voice, just a sense of knowing. And it's confusing. Not the plantation, but I get a strong feeling of finding home inside.”

“Then we should investigate,” Jovian said.

“Put it from your mind,” Uthia said. “You had all best stuff your pockets with this dirt. It will take us another week at most to traverse to the Holy Realm.”

“But what about what Joya is feeling?” Angelica asked.

“Likely it is nothing more than a trap, a bewyrdment of the Shadow Realm. A defense of the Haunted Graveyard leading you to death.” Uthia crossed her arms and leaned against a headstone.

“We’ve all seen that more than once,” Joya agreed. “She's right. It's probably just wishful thinking, or a wyrding. Maybe too much time on the road has some ill effect on me, making me miss home more with every step.”

Angelica didn't believe that, but she bent to work, not sure if the dirt would lose some of its potency over the week. Angelica shoved as much as she could into any free pocket she could find.

“Do you think this will stay strong for the entire week?” Angelica asked. “Do you think the dirt will keep the hecklin at bay all that time?”

“Yes, I do,” Uthia said.

“Well, it did sit on Rosalee’s shelves for a while, and then Grace carried it with her for weeks,” Jovian told Angelica. “It was still effective when we had to use it last time.”

“What if it sifts out?”

“Holes in your pocket?” Jovian asked. Angelica smirked.

“Joya, don't go near there!” Uthia said. Joya had used the time the dryad had been distracted to sidle closer to the mausoleum.

At some point the hecklin had calmed down, and instead of barking and growling they only milled about, sniffing the air and looking behind them as if they waited for something.

Joya bent to the task of filling her pockets.

“Dear Goddess,” Joya said.

“What is it?” Jovian asked.

“The dirt is the only thing to ease the burning in my palms.” Joya dug her hands deeper into the dirt and smiled.

What the Otherworld is going on with her? Did the verax-acis damage her more than we thought?
Angelica asked Jovian.

Who knows, but something weird really is happening. The way her stigmata has changed color concerns me. It isn't just dirt, Angie — her dots are gray now.