C.E. Murphy - Truthseeker

Starlight shone through a sky of blue shadows and black trees beyond the door’s golden edges. A grove of darkness, hollowed earth dipping low, lush-looking grass blue with moonlight. It invited with the cool comfort of an autumn night, wind rustling branches full of leaves. Even from the far side of the door, the quiet land seemed a sanctuary, drawing Lara to it. “Where does it go?” The question came out hushed, as if speaking aloud might disturb the world beyond the door.

“Wales,” David said, utterly prosaically, and laughed as Lara turned an injured expression on him. His reply had the same wrong tone to it that his name did, playing on and on as it searched for accuracy in an answer that wasn’t entirely wrong. “The Barrow-lands,” he said more softly. “You don’t like fairy tales, Lara. You might not know the stories of my people and our lands under the hills. Let me show you.”

He took a step toward the door, extending his hand toward her as he moved. Lara slipped her fingers into his, surprised to feel that her own were cold with excitement. She thought the idea of stepping through a doorway made of magic to a world that wasn’t her own should be terrifying, but the endless truth in Dafydd ap Caerwyn’s words sang to her. All it left behind was the belief that she would forever regret not daring this exploration.

“Show me,” she said, suddenly decisive. “I said I’d help. Let’s go.” She put words into action almost before she was finished speaking, stepping ahead of Dafydd to cross the door’s threshold first.

Something changed as she stepped across, the weight of the world somehow releasing some of its hold on her. Misty, cool air swept Lara’s cheeks, dew alighting in her hair, and the first breath she drew was tinged with its own sweet flavor, as if it had never gone through an endless cycle of breath. Under the starlight, silver sparkled off her skin, lifting hairs and sending a chill of delight through her. It felt like power, that sensation, lending Lara a confidence she’d never known. Curious, she tried to reach out with it, searching for what it could tell her about the alien truth of the world she now stood in. She felt Dafydd’s weight shift behind her as he, too, crossed over, and she turned toward him with a smile already on her lips.

Hell unleashed itself.

The sky above Lara tore, wings and claws coming from the darkness, fiery eyes stealing the color from the stars to shoot bolts of heat at her. She screamed, flinging herself toward the door, but even as she did so its golden frame shattered under the weight of night. The space she pitched herself through held only nighttime and trees, no safe passage home. Momentum carried her forward into a dive, dew and grass staining her shirt as she skidded across the slippery meadow.

Dafydd bellowed in a language she didn’t recognize, warning clear in his voice. Thunder clapped in the clear air, carrying his shout far beyond the strength of an ordinary cry. Lara twisted back toward him, her fingers digging into the dirt, fear a painful thing clawing at her chest in an attempt to escape.

Lightning came on thunder’s call, shards of electricity shattering the night and briefly—mercifully briefly—illuminating the shadows that poured from the darkness. Lara had no name for them: demons were creatures of substance, not the wraith-thin shadows whose wings swallowed the lightning’s brightness. They were barely more than wing and tooth and claw, a mockery of bats, black skin stretching from jaw to wing to foot, all distorted with each beat of the monstrous wings. One dropped its mouth open to gout flame and Lara screamed again, meaning it to be a warning to Dafydd.

He flinched, but didn’t lose ground, only lifted his hands as if he held a sword. Lightning gathered between his palms, a blade of jagged brilliance cutting apart the horror’s flame, splicing it to either side of him. His blade lasted no longer than that, fading as quickly as its element did, leaving him empty-handed once more. His voice, though, remained steady, almost cajoling, and Lara lurched to her feet, scrambling for the narrow window of protection offered by the Seelie prince’s form. The breadth of his shoulders suddenly seemed much greater than it had in the confines of her home, his elfin delicacy abruptly filled with all the strength and confidence a warrior could need. Perhaps it was the same difference she’d felt in herself on stepping through to Dafydd’s world: a completion that had been lacking in her own.

Lightning streaked the sky again, tearing Lara from her brief contemplation of Dafydd’s shoulders. One of the monsters darted to the side too late, blue power exploding through its black form. It screamed, a birdlike sound of rage, then was gone, nothing more than a handful of sparks drifting toward the damp grass. Beneath the scream’s echoes, Lara heard Dafydd’s voice, soft and steady, making liquid words that meant nothing to her.

The air flexed around them, as if responding to Dafydd’s calm speech. Another nightmare dove down, claws extended. Lara flung her hands up in a panicked attempt to protect her face. She only half-saw the monster bounce back with the same force it had attacked with, just a few inches away from Dafydd and herself. Dafydd staggered with the creature’s impact, and the shoulder of his suit jacket dimpled, as if claws had hooked into it without managing to touch him.

Silence rose up, shocking as the screams had been, leaving nothing in the night but stars and moonlight. Lara dragged in a breath and stumbled from Dafydd’s side, staring at the sky. “What the—”

“Lara!” Despair shot through Dafydd’s voice and caution flared too late. Winged darkness fell from the sky again, red gaze searing into Lara’s. Instinct went to war in her, the struggle between fight or flight leaving her frozen. Death awaited her in the clutches of vicious black talons, and even as she threw off paralyzing fear she knew she’d hesitated too long, that she could never move quickly enough to escape the nightmare. The admission rang with truth even inside her own mind, even barely made into words, and she thought she might be able to die well, not screaming.

Dafydd smashed into her, knocking her aside. Lara screamed after all, more surprise than terror, before horror tore another raw sound from her throat. The nightmare blackness didn’t care which target it hit: Dafydd howled as its claws slammed into his ribs, ripping his clothes, tearing his skin. Lara closed a hand in the wet grass, furious that she found no fallen branch or stone to use as a weapon there, and surged to her feet, white rage replacing her fear. She tackled the nightmare, knocking it free of Dafydd. The world became pounding black wings and the scent of ashes in the back of her throat. She rolled with the monster, both of them trying to gain the upper hand.

She was somehow astonished when the winged blackness came out on top.

It slammed forward, jaw gaping, and she strong-armed it, driving her hand into what passed for the thing’s throat, holding it back from tearing her head off. It was far more solid than she thought it should be, and much smaller when she had it in hand than it had seemed. From jaw to wing tip, from wing tip to clawed feet, it was less than the length of her arm, but she trembled holding it away from herself. For all its small size, for all that it looked like little more than a sheet of blackness cut away from the night, it had substance, a demon after all. It shrieked and swept its wings in, clawing at the ground around her, unable to gain purchase in her flesh with her hand at its throat.

Chimes sounded in the back of Lara’s mind, clarifying and ringing together until they became the deep continuous toll of church bells, carrying with them a memory and an unquenchable sense of truth.