As the Arch Druid told me Night Mare fed on noxious plants, it was easy to connect the dots and travel to the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. After a very lengthy climb up the Cliffs of Logic, I arrived outside the entrance to the catacombs to see a beautiful, majestic, yet fearsome-looking black winged horse feeding from the nightshade bush.
Surely this was Night Mare.
"To work, then," I exhaled, removing the ember-filled skull from my satchel and taking out the spoiled egg the White Queen gave me. Wanting to get it over with, I cracked the egg against the skull and dropped the rotten yolk into the skull. "Ah, the smell of sulfur in the morning," I just had to groan, waving a hand in front of my face.
Now for the last ingredient. This would be particularly tricky, since the recipe called for a maiden's hair, and I didn't have any. Hoping the spell would still work, I plucked one of my own hairs and dropped it into the skull.
I took a step closer to Night Mare, shaking the skull gently to stir the contents together. Then I solemnly chanted over the skull, "Creature of night, to me succumb! Fire and brimstone leave thee numb! Purity bind thee like a chain, to do what ere I now ordain!" I couldn't help but hold my breath once I was done. Was my hair the monkey wrench in this idea?
Night Mare whinnied, her nostrils flaring at the scent of fire and brimstone. My heart stopped. Oh my head, the spell worked!
Euphorically, I put the skull down in front of me and beckoned her closer. "That's a good girl. I need a lift to your home, please," I whispered.
Unable to resist the smell, the wild horse slowly walked over to me. This close, her eyes were glassy, probably making her unaware of me being this close to her. Carefully, but quickly, I got on her back and wrapped my arms around her neck for security.
"Let's ride!" I bellowed, jerking a little when she took off into the air. The wind swept through my hair as she flew high into the sky, and I started to laugh from the feeling spreading through my torso. Then overhead, I could see the sky darkening with stars appearing everywhere.
Night Mare landed on a cold, dark surface, and I was quick to slide off her back before she bucked me off. Then she took off, presumably to return to her master or go back for more nightshade.
I exhaled a little uneasily, looking around the place. "No turning back now."
The Realm of the Dead was barren, its surreal landscape cold and gloomy. Off in the distance I could see twisted shapes, probably distant spires or mountains. Roaming everywhere were the ghoulish animated undead and the restless spirits bound to the surface by earthly cares.
Two in particular caught my interest: a beautiful, noble woman floating alongside a desperate-looking man. Their clothes were amazing, almost in the same vein as Alexander's clothes. Was it possible these were the spirits the Oracle mentioned, the ones that could help in the battle against the dark cloaked ones?
Cautiously, I approached them. "May I be so kind as to inquire who you are?"
The woman looked up from under her dark hair. "I am Queen Allaria of the Land of the Green Isles, and this beloved spirit is my husband, King Caliphim," she introduced them. "We were murdered in our beds by our trusted vizier. Like a viper, he snuck in during the night and stabbed us in our sleep. Now my husband's soul is broken, and he will not speak."
"Aha," I grinned. "So it was you the Oracle meant. Your daughter is Princess Cassima of the Land of the Green Isles, yes?"
Queen Allaria's eyes widened. "Our daughter! Have you news of the princess?"
"Yes and no," I sighed, looking down. "After escaping servitude under Mordack, she returned home safely only to hear of your deaths. As far as I know, she remains sequestered in her bedroom, mourning for you and awaiting marriage to Vizier Alhazred. I personally have not seen her."
Queen Allaria exhaled. "I am glad to hear of her return, but she will not be safe alone with that devil. Oh, that we could be there to protect her," she lamented.
King Caliphim spoke for the first time, yet his eyes were blank. "Cassima, how I failed thee…" he moaned quietly.
"My poor husband will never rest while our murder goes unavenged and our daughter is in danger," Allaria shook her head.
I rested a hand on my heart, bowing my head. "Allow me to introduce myself, majesties. My name is Kit, and I am here on behalf of my colleague, Prince Alexander of Daventry. He, too, was imprisoned under Mordack and he now quests to free Princess Cassima from Alhazred. The reason I came here is to free you and return you to the Land of the Living, so your people can learn the truth about Alhazred. No doubt your daughter needs you as well."
Just as the Arch Druid had done before, Queen Allaria looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. "But this is the Realm of the Dead! We cannot leave it, nor for that matter can you. The only one who might be able to return us all to the Land of the Living is the Lord of the Dead, but he would never help us. He has no mercy," she warned me.
"We'll never know until we try," I grinned.
"Then take this," she advised, showing me a translucent item that bore the message "Admit one". "It is my ticket to the Underworld. There you will find the Lord of the Dead. I cannot use the ticket as long as I'm chained here, and if we cannot be avenged, I will never be unchained."
"Many thanks, your majesty," I bowed again, taking the ticket from her. "This may just save us all."
"Be careful, young lady," she worried. "If you can ease my husband's torment and help our daughter, we will be most grateful."
"I promise," I nodded once, bowing once again. "Take care, majesties."
My business here was done. Time to head to the Underworld to confront the Lord of the Dead.
Along the road, I encountered another spirit who seemed highly distraught. She cried freely, apparently not caring that I was watching.
"I-Is everything all right?" I asked hesitantly. Kind of a dumb question, but how else was I supposed to break the ice?
"My son is lost!" she cried.
"Lost?" I echoed. "You mean, in this realm?"
"No," she shook her head. "His spirit is stuck in the Land of the Living, probably looking for me. But I cannot leave to go show him the way. My poor Ali!"
"Is there any way I can help?" I offered.
"Take this handkerchief," she requested tearfully. "If you get back to the Land of the Living and find him, tell him that his mother is waiting for him here." She lightly brushed her lips against it and floated towards me. "By this kiss, he'll be able to find his way to the Realm of the Dead."
"I swear to give him this once I find him," I promised.
"Thank you, thank you," she sobbed. "Oh, my Ali!" She gave me the handkerchief, as ethereal as Queen Allaria's ticket, and then went on towards the Underworld.
I took a second to stare down the path, where a mighty, ominous skull waited. It must have been the entrance to the Underworld, with a bright, pale full moon lurking above it. Probably the only source of light here.
Walking along the path that felt strangely organic under my feet, I soon arrived at the enormous skull, where four skeletons stood around it. The one closest to me handed out what looked like tickets to the passing spirits, which the spirits would then give to a uniformed skeleton. Once receiving the ticket, the uniformed skeleton would wave the spirit through the doors, guarded by two skeletons on either side of the entrance.
The skull entrance did look very macabre, but something drew me towards it regardless. Almost like a little nudge in my subconscious that eventually I'd be walking this path without flesh and blood attached to my limbs.
The skeleton passing out tickets was a gigantic figure, wearing ceremonial armor and gripping a key ring in one bony hand. The key ring was unoccupied save one small key hanging from the bottom.
Glancing off to the side, I could see an arrangement of bones, almost resembling a xylophone or piano, with two smaller bones propped up next to them. I bit my lip as I went over to the bones and picked up the smaller ones. "Let's see if I remember how to do this," I muttered, tapping one of the bones experimentally. Then I started to play the bones like a piano, giggling at my choice of song and hardly believing it was making the skeletons jiggle around in dance. It was full-on laughing when a chorus line of skeletons came out to dance.
The single key on the skeleton's key ring flew off the ring on account of its keeper moving around too much, and I grinned as the song came to an end. Being sure to put the bones back where I found them, I picked up the key and tucked it away.
"Excuse me," I said to the skeleton taking tickets. "I have a ticket. Will you let me pass?"
The guard took Queen Allaria's ticket and waved me through. "Go on! Next!"
The doors parted to allow me entry, and I walked through, trying not to shiver when I felt them close behind me. This was the true point of no return. Either I got what I came for, or I'd never leave.
Just like outside, the path felt organic under my feet, twisting every which way before descending into the darkness. Torches set on the walls illuminated the black, glossy River Styx under the path.
Off to the side lay a knight's remains, possibly the same knight mentioned in the Arch Druid's story. I walked over to the suit of armor, cringing in alarm when a spirit flew out and through me into the river below. Once that scare was over, I bent over to examine the remains. On the knight's right arm was an old tattered ribbon, something he might have worn for his lady, and a single black gauntlet without a matching one on the other hand. I could faintly make out writing on the gauntlet, so to take a better look, I carefully pulled the gauntlet off the knight's arm and examined the writing.
Flesh may cross the portal and seek its master, Death. Flesh may go where Death has trod and challenge, like Scheherazade, He Who Reigns Beneath the Sod, to spare a mortal's breath.
A light shiver crossed my spine as I read this. But maybe this was the means to challenge the Lord of the Dead. "OK, well, better keep this with me."
The path eventually stopped, and beyond it was the River Styx, stretching on to eternity. At the banks close to me was a tall, imposing figure in a black hooded cloak in an eerie ship. Many spirits were already on the boat, staring off into the distance as if in a trance.
Feeling highly sick to my stomach, I knelt beside the banks of the river and withdrew the teacup of swamp ooze from my satchel. Working so very slowly so as not to get any on my skin, I scooped some of the river's water into the teacup and put it in a secure pouch of my satchel. Then I dug out the coins Alexander and I found in the Winged Ones' catacombs and offered them to the ferryman. "Will you accept this as fare for passage, please?"
Silently, Charon took the coins and waved me onto the boat. As soon as I was in, he pushed off, allowing the boat to coast freely across the river.
Before long, Charon arrived at a path that sprung out of the river and led to a huge gate. Getting the feeling this was my stop, I nodded once to the ferryman and carefully disembarked, stepping over the lip of the boat onto the strangely organic-feeling path.
I cleared my throat and approached the large wooden gate, standing maybe a couple of feet away as I reached out to open it. As if on command, the wood shifted to change shape, and the next thing I knew, the doors that once looked commonplace now resembled a leering skull that eyed me almost hungrily. "What touch has awakened my sleep?" the gate pondered, his voice low and filled with menace. "I smell the blood of a mortal! Reach out thine hand again, fleshy human, that I might devour it," he invited. "It has been centuries since I last ate."
Seeing a talking gate that wanted to eat me in real time was a little scary, no doubt, but the only thing running through my mind at his words was Tch, you bloody well wish. I cleared my throat again and spoke in the bravest, most irritated voice I could muster. "I would pass, Gate!" I informed him. "I have business with your master."
Gate's eyes sparkled. "My master and thine, human! I would be pleased to introduce thee. Only step forward and thou shall meet him shortly," he told me.
I snorted. "Yeah, no thank you. I would much rather have an audience with the Lord of the Death with my flesh still on my bones where it belongs."
"And why should I let you past, human, when I would much rather eat you?" Gate challenged, sounding a little less amused.
"Because I have been told it is possible for humans to enter Death's realm," I shot back, putting a hand on my hip. "Is there nothing I can do that will allow me to pass? Surely something comes to mind."
I could hardly believe the way I was talking. Why did everyone around here sound so archaic? I was starting to worry I was going native.
"Hmm," Gate hummed. "I seem to recall something-a trick….Perhaps…a test. Hmm….Ah, yes. 'Should a human try to pass, a riddle is Gate's wont to ask,' he quoted, grinning evilly.
Thank God he wasn't asking me to do magic or something like that. Riddles were harmless enough. "A riddle it is, then," I agreed.
"And if thou wouldst fail to answer Gate, his thirsty jaws will be thy fate?" he confirmed. I exhaled sharply through my nose and closed my eyes before nodding once in agreement. "Listen as though it meant thy life then, human, for it surely does: 'My first is foremost legally. My second circles outwardly. My third leads all in victory. My fourth twice ends a nominee. My whole is this gate's only key.'" A menacing smirk decorated his lips, as if he was under the impression I would never figure it out.
I smirked back. "The answer is love."
Gate's smirk was gone in the blink of an eye. "Thou traitor of the mortal plane!" he growled angrily. "How didst thou guess love?! That riddle should never have been solved! Love is unknown in this realm!"
Gad, did I love surprising people. "Love can never be banished, even from a place as cold and dark as this. Right now, up on the surface, there are still human hearts who refuse to let go of love."
"Enough!" Gate roared. "Burden me not with thy poetry! Pass through and quickly, before I change my mind!" His skull face melted back into the wood, transforming into the pair of doors I saw initially, then they opened.
Where the hell did all that come from?! I grimaced to myself as I scurried through the open gate.
The hall of the Lord of the Dead was massive, an incredible feeling of openness due to the Sea of Souls below and beyond the path I was standing on. At the end of the path was a massive throne where an enormous figure sat, presumably the Lord of the Dead. He would gesture on occasion to the spirits that floated before him, his lips moving in words I couldn't hear (and honestly I didn't want to). He seemed to be woven into his throne, with what looked like chains further strapping him to it. So the Arch Druid was right: this was a task he was bound to for all of eternity.
Two shrouded guards stood on either side of the path. I couldn't tell if they were watching me, but it felt like they were. "Excuse me," I cleared my throat. "Is it possible to have an audience with his Lordship?"
Silently, they walked me down the path to the Lord of the Dead.
The Lord of the Dead was far more intimidating up close than I realized. I was only a little nervous, but standing before him, just like the entrance to the Underworld, did not fail to remind me that my own mortality was fleeting. His eyes were dark, and empty of emotion, and more importantly, mercy. If he really was human once, all traces of it were gone.
He peered down at me curiously. "Why have you entered my domain still wearing your flesh?" he demanded slowly. "If you are so anxious for Death, you might have found it easily enough in the Land of the Living. But since you are here, you are most welcome to stay. Kiss my hand, and you will be one with the spirits. There will be no pain," he promised.
Frowning, I extracted the gauntlet from my satchel and held it up so he could see it. "I am not here to die, but to demand my right of challenge! I respectfully challenge thee, Death, by throwing down this gauntlet," I declared, throwing the armlet onto the path. "'Flesh may cross the portal and seek its master, Death. Flesh may go where Death has trod and challenge, like Scheherazade, He Who Reigns Beneath the Sod, to spare a mortal's breath."
The spirits around us were shocked. "She hath the gauntlet!" one cried.
"Impossible!" more chorused.
"She challenges Death!" one gasped.
Balling a fist, the Lord of the Dead rammed it on the arm of his throne. "Who are you to challenge Death?" he snarled.
"A mortal female of flesh and blood is all I need to be, my Lord," I answered. I wondered if it was just the atmosphere that was making me talk like this, but whatever. As long as I got my point across, it didn't really matter. And more importantly, if I didn't keep talking like this, I'd be happy.
"And what is it that you seek with this challenge? The soul of some dead knight?" he inquired, sounding bored and irritated at the same time.
"I seek the souls of King Caliphim and Queen Allaria of the Land of the Green Isles," I responded.
He fixed me with an incredulous expression, but the degree of disbelief was greatly toned down. "You would save two human souls and emerge alive from this realm yourself? That shall be a difficult challenge indeed. The tomb does not open its doors lightly."
I rammed a fist into my hand. "Either all three of us go together, or none at all."
"Very well," the Lord of the Dead hummed. "Then let me think of an appropriate task. Ah. Yes, I have it now. Your challenge is this: For thousands of years, I have sat upon this throne. I have heard every sad tale that can be told by human lips. I have seen tragedies that ended empires, injustices that defy reason, love that would light the very stars turn cold and hard. I have seen torments that cannot possibly be born, and yet must be for centuries. This thing I have never done-I have never shed a tear. Make me cry, thou woman of flesh. That is my challenge."
I raised an eyebrow as the spirits expressed their disbelief. "Make Death cry?!"
"Sooner could she turn sea to stone!" one declared.
"Or fire to ice!" another supplemented.
Piece of cake, I laughed silently as my fingers closed around the frame of the mirror Beast had given Alexander. "Well, my Lord, if your existence has been all that you say it has, then truth alone will be my sword," I proclaimed, holding up the mirror and pointing it right into his face.
His expression changed, and this time, there was no missing it. His eyes had widened somewhat, and his jaw was slack. Clearly the mirror was doing its job. Judging from his look of surprise and fear, what he saw in the mirror was no laughing matter. I could hear the faint sound of wailing souls, the clink of shackles colder and more immutable than any forged by man, moans resulting of a world of thirsts that could never be quenched. I felt the mirror tremble in my grasp, and thanked my lucky stars that I couldn't see what was on it, but the Lord of the Dead was transfixed. Reflected in his eyes were things long forgotten: his enslavement to his throne while still a man, the years of watching misery and horror, and growing ever more numb to it. The seep of his own humanity, the slow growth of a new thing altogether which became that which he was now, an existence that had no possibility of redemption or end. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the surrounding spirits draw away in pain, shrieking in agony.
"Take it away!" one begged.
"Make it stop!"
After a second, there was the sound of shattering glass, and a single gray tear dripped from Death's eye. "Truth is, indeed, a terrible thing," he muttered. "I have worn this mantle for so long, I had forgotten its dreadful weight. You shall take the souls and leave as I agreed. You have been granted a stay from this inevitable reality. I almost…envy you. Find the souls she has claimed, and bring them to me," he ordered.
I stood aside as King Caliphim and Queen Allaria were brought before the Lord of the Dead. It was almost too easy.
"King Caliphim and Queen Allaria, I presume," the Lord of the Dead greeted. "Your hero has won you a few more years of mortality. May your souls be more prepared for their rest when you return." He held up one hand and surrounded the monarchs with a brilliant light.
When the light faded, the King and Queen were no longer see-through. They nodded solemnly to the Lord of the Dead. "Thank you, my Lord. I hope that they will," Queen Allaria concurred.
His eyes found me next. "And you, woman of flesh. My steed shall take the three of you back to the Land of the Living. Tell her where it is you wish to go," he told me. Sure enough, Night Mare came flying into the chamber, landing gracefully at the head of the path. "Until we meet again, then. I assure you, we will meet again," he promised darkly.
"With all due respect, my Lord, I hope that day is a long ways off from now," I admitted to him, smiling apologetically.
"It is never as long as you might wish, mortal," he responded. "Now, be gone."
"Yes, milord," I bowed my head to him as King Caliphim helped Queen Allaria onto Night Mare's back. I climbed on behind them, then Night Mare lifted into the air and flew off into the night.