Page 112 of The Iron Dagger
“Seeing the future is unnatural. It makes me hurt. It is bad for the mind,” said Desideria as though she were reciting something from memory. “He helped me to stop.”
“He erased your memories. He nearly drove you mad!” said Hara, clutching at her mother’s shoulders. A horriblethought crept into Hara’s mind at her mother’s words. She turned slowly to look at the mock-Seith, who was standing unnaturally still, watching them.
“Did you hurt my mother?” she said. “Did you hurt her when she had visions of the future so that she would be afraid of using her power?”
The mock-Seith was silent for a moment. Then it spoke in that strange approximation of Seith’s voice. “I would never hurt my love.”
Pain and disgust settled like molten lead in her stomach.
“Come with me, Mother. We will find a way to free the others later, but we need to get you out of here. Away from him,” she said, her eyes burning with hatred. She knew he was only a false copy of Seith created by her mother’s mind to placate her with lies, but she could not stand to have her trapped in here with what he represented.
Hara knelt beside her mother and closed her eyes to summon the memory of the pit, but before she could retrieve the image, she heard her mother moan in fear. Hara’s eyes flew open to see the mock-Seith had grown, stretching so tall that its head nearly brushed the ceiling.
Hara staggered back, clutching her mother in fear. Desideria’s fingers were twisting and clutching at her scalp, while she cried, “No, no, no, please, no,” over and over.
It began to untie the mask, and underneath was something that made every instinct in Hara scream to run.
It was Seith’s face, but only just.
Long brows furrowed over a cluster of three eyes on either side of its head, each eye blinking independently of the others, darting over them and missing nothing. When it opened its mouth, there was nothing but a black hole, as though the insides were coated with ink.
It was a face of such cold, brutal hatred that it made Hara recoil. Her hand brushed against one of the bone blades against her hip, and she frantically grasped at the handle, unsheathing it. The creature saw it, and its impossibly wide, dark mouth stretched. A deep clicking sounded from its throat, echoing up through the empty corridors.
“None of this is real,” Hara whispered. “It’s not real.” Her chest was rising and falling so fast that she felt lightheaded. She could not think.
In a movement so fast that Hara barely saw it, the mock-Seith stomped on her mother’s leg. A sickeningcrunchechoed through the empty halls, and Desideria let out a keening cry.
Driven by instinct more than conscious thought, Hara plunged the knife into the closest part of the monster that she could reach. She felt the blade sink into its foot and stop against the hard floor. The thing let out an inhuman screech, reaching down to grasp at the handle.
Then she ran, clasping her mother’s hand and shouldering her weight. She dragged her down a long dark hallway, hobbling towards a dimly lit room at the end. She thought of escaping to her beach, but then she remembered the two-headed beast. It would not be safe there. She knew no one else who might be trapped within the stone, so there were no other realms to step into. Panic began to make her heart pound, but as they reached the dim room at the end of the hall, Hara saw that it contained more hallways and shadowed alcoves.
She took one at random. As they traveled through a new hallway into another set of rooms, it became clear that they served no other purpose than to have a place to run. There were few distinguishing features other than the odd column or recess, and the farther they ran, the more featureless the rooms became. Soon they contained nothing but blank walls and diffused yellow light.
They struggled down a long dimly lit corridor without doors, and Hara felt as though she were on the verge of weeping, hoping to find a place to hide where they could rest for a few moments. They could not continue running forever with her mother injured like this.
She nearly cried out in relief when the next room contained a closet set into the wall.
Hara pulled her mother into the dark recess, trying to catch her breath. Her mother whimpered in pain and clutched at her shin, blackened with bruising. Hara tried to ignore the guilt at making her run as she quickly performed a pain relieving spell, whispering softly, her hands shaking through the motions. She had to get the pain under control, otherwise the monster would hear them.
When she was finished, she tried to summon the memory of the glacier pit, but then the guttural croaking, clicking sound came faintly from the hall they had just left.
Desperately, Hara unsheathed her second knife. It was a creature of magic, and so it would not like iron. She did not know what might happen if she used her alchemy in this place, but they needed something that would buy them time so that she could properly concentrate on the glacier pit.
The bone was warm in her clammy hands, and she gripped it firmly, covering every inch of it with her skin. She began to feel the material growing weighty in her hands, the familiar pins-and-needles sensation of transformation flowing through her touch, and then the deep clicking grew louder. It seemed the creature was using it to sense them somehow, for it soon entered the room.
Its steps were uneven, as though the knife in its foot had hindered its gait. Hara pulled back into the shadows of the alcove, making sure they were well concealed. Her mothersobbed silently, biting her hand. The knife was almost ready, a dagger of pure cold iron.
A curious white glow began to shine between her numb fingers, growing stronger as the transformation became complete. The very air seemed to shimmer where it touched the iron.
Then the creature was there, invading the small space with its hulking form. The pitch black mouth opened wide as it grinned in triumph, and the sickly scent of incense was overpowering. It smelled like poison, and it made her nose burn and her heart stutter in fear.
Her mother screamed as its spindly fingers clenched around Hara’s arm and lifted her into the air, giving her one hard shake like a rag doll.
“You don’t run from me,” said the creature, its voice distorted and hollow, more like a roar of wind than a voice. Dark liquid leaked from the corners of its mouth. “You don’t fight back.”
It squeezed with inhuman strength, and Hara gasped and cried out, feeling as though her arm threatened to splinter. Her shoulder seared with pain as her entire weight was borne on the joint, and he shook her again.
With a grotesquepop, Hara felt the joint separate. Shattering pain radiated down her arm, and her eyes watered. She took gulping sips of air, trying to stave off the agony.
