Touch of Death (Order of the Elements Book 2) Page 2

  I stirred my coffee with a spoon. “Do you remember the Death King’s Air Element?”

  “Armoured soldier with an attitude problem? Yes.” Brant sipped his own coffee. How he could drink it without sugar or milk was a mystery to me. “Why?”

  “They paid me a visit this morning,” I said. “An explosive one.”

  Brant’s eyebrows crept higher with every word I spoke, and finally, he rose to his feet. “That’s trespassing, that is. Does the Death King know?”

  “Ryan claimed to have forgotten the node came out directly into my house,” I said. “Not that that’s an excuse for the violence. Sit down, Brant. Don’t go declaring war on anyone.”

  He sat down, his mouth pulling in a scowl. “This is bullshit. I thought your agreement with the Death King was over.”

  “It’s not about our agreement. Someone’s supposedly sharing the Death Court’s deepest secrets. It’s more likely to be one of his liches than me. It’s insulting, really. I saved his soul and he repaid me by sending one of his soldiers after me.”

  “Why not return the favour?” he said.

  “What, barge into his castle in the middle of the night?” I arched a brow. “I doubt I’d be able to take him by surprise, even if I got past his security. Besides, I don’t have a permit from the Order, and it’s not worth risking a reprimand just because the Death King’s having a paranoid blip after his near-death experience. I mean nearer-death. Whichever.”

  Brant was silent for a moment. “How about going to visit him using your powers, then? That’s not breaking the law.”

  “Using my…” Right. “Astral projecting? Not sure he’d like that any better, to be honest.”

  Astral projecting—aka, travelling into the Parallel as a spirit without my body—neatly skipped over the Order’s rules against crossing without a permit, but that didn’t make it any less risky.

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “You have the skills, it’s a shame to waste them.”

  “Speaking like a typical mage.”

  Forcing an elemental mage to live without magic was like asking someone who lived both on land and in the water to pick one over the other, so most mages left Earth as soon as they were aware there was an alternative. The Order enforced so many rules on those of us who opted to remain behind that most elemental mages went behind their backs on the most mundane issues.

  The difference was, regular mages weren’t breaking the law every single time they used magic.

  “You’re a mage,” he pointed out. “I know you have Devon and your other friends to think of, but the Parallel is safer than the Order in a lot of ways.”

  “Aside from the vampires, phantoms, liches… and let’s not forget the countless unscrupulous elemental mages out to get me.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Also, the lack of adequate plumbing. And public transport.”

  “I thought you hated the bus anyway.”

  “Yes, but at least I can get around without having to shortcut through underground tunnels crawling with monsters.” I lifted my coffee cup. “Also, where could I get a decent cappuccino on the other side?”

  “Just listing the pros and cons,” he said. “I know the Order makes it so that you feel you have to choose one world or the other, but that might change one day.”

  “Huh?” I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing really. Just rumours. You know, the Order’s rules have only been as stringent as they are since after the war. They used to be much more lenient before then.”

  “Which is longer than both of us have been alive,” I reminded him. “What’s going on that makes you think they’re going to change anytime soon?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “But I’m sure not everyone at the Order is thrilled that they lose pretty much every mage to the Parallel as soon as we’re old enough to make up our minds about learning magic.”

  “True, but look what happened when the Elements were allowed to do whatever they liked,” I said. “War, destruction, chaos…”

  “Cobb almost started a war anyway.”

  A chill raced down my back at the mention of the jailed spirit mage’s name. “Yes. I know. I’m not saying I agree with anything the Order does, but imagine the Spirit Elements had done to this world what they did to the Parallel. I might not agree with what the Order did to me, but I understand it.”

  After all, I’d known what I was getting into when I’d signed up to study spirit magic with Dirk Alban back at the academy. Just because I couldn’t remember why I’d said yes didn’t erase the fact that I’d walked in with my eyes wide open.

  His hand reached for mine across the table. “That’s ancient history. I don’t want the Order to guide your decisions.”

  Sometimes, the guy just missed the mark entirely. “They ripped two years of my memories out of my head. Forgive me if I don’t want to lose anything else.”

  His hand faltered. “That was tactless. Sorry.”

  “I’m just in a twitchy mood today,” I admitted. “On account of the rude awakening I had this morning. Maybe I will hop over to the swamp to figure out what’s got the Death King sending his Elements out to threaten me.”

  I’d sworn that I’d stay out of any dangerous Parallel-related business, and the Death King definitely fell into that category. But then again, so did Brant himself, despite his assertions to the contrary. The Parallel was teeming with unscrupulous individuals out for themselves alone, and while I didn’t count Brant among them, sometimes he said things that made me wonder if people ever really changed.

  “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He reached and squeezed my hand across the table again. This time, I squeezed back.

  “What’re you up to, anyway?” I asked. “Any jobs?”

  Most mages in the Parallel made a living through barter and trade—in rare objects or information—and while the Order left them to it, if they grabbed the wrong item at the wrong time, they’d find themselves the target of one of the Order’s retrievers. Which would explain why I didn’t get on with Brant’s friends. I mean, if you ignored the fact that one of them had locked me in a cage a few weeks ago. I’d assumed the incident would prompt Brant to take a long hard look at who he did business with, but from what he’d just said, I doubted that was the case. Then again, what had I really expected?

  Brant was silent for a long moment before saying, “The usual. Working, listening out for trouble. Haven’t heard anything odd from the Death King’s direction, but I can’t say I’ve been anywhere near the swampland.”

  “It’s better for your survival that way.” Now I’d bought up the subject, though, I wouldn’t put it past him to march up and knock on the Death King’s door and wind up locked in a cell. Again.

  He had a point… I could astral project into the Parallel without leaving my own home. Or without my body leaving it, anyway. As long as the Order’s people didn’t catch me in the act, nobody would have to know. I’d get in and out without trouble.

  Granted, the Death King was the very definition of trouble, but he had no reason to harm me. Right?

  Back home, Devon had opened the shop for the day, and sat behind the counter, spinning a blank cantrip underneath her thumb. Cantrips were made out of a rare metal found only in the Parallel, inscribed with symbols depending on their function. In their blank form, they resembled pale gold coins, slightly larger than regular money. A number of thin instruments covered the desk, the tools Devon used to carve the coins with the necessary symbols for each spell.

  “What’s that one for?” I indicated the coin she was spinning.

  She caught the coin in her fingertips. “It’s a spare. I never have spares. What the hell are the Order doing, going totally magic-free?”

  “Are you expecting anyone from the Order to show up today?” I asked.

  “Not anytime soon. Why?”

  “I’m planning a little astral projection,” I told her. “I’ll stay in the back room,
but I’d like to be forewarned if I’m going to be interrupted.

  “Wait, you’re going to the other side?” She put the coin down on the desk. “To the Death King?”

  “I figured it’d be less risky than visiting him in person,” I said. “If he throws a tantrum, I’ll come straight back with no harm done.”

  “You’re still leaving your body behind, though,” she said doubtfully. “Did Brant tell you to do it?”

  “He gave me the idea,” I said, “but it’s less risky than walking there on foot.”

  “Everything’s risky where the liches are concerned,” she said. “But go on, if you must. I’ll watch the desk.”

  “Cheers.” I headed for the narrow wooden door behind the counter. “I’d rather not, but if I don’t, Brant might find himself minus a soul again.”

  I went through the door into the back room, which was around half the size of the shop. While it was originally designed to be a storeroom, Devon’s cantrips didn’t take up much space, so we’d turned it into a gaming cave complete with a table set up for our weekly D&D game. Along the wall stood our TV and games consoles—all second-hand courtesy of a friend of Devon’s who worked at a game shop—while the kitchen lay in an alcove on the right-hand side.

  I cleared an Xbox controller out of the way and sat down on the sofa, so I wouldn’t end up coming back into my body to find my legs cramping from standing too long.

  Then I stepped out of my body, into the path of the node humming beneath the house. At once, the vibrant current of magic came to life around and inside me. Hovering on the spot, I pictured the hidden world on the other side, and the node’s light carried me through.

  I came out of the node in the stretch of desolate swampland in front of the Death King’s castle. I’d assumed that if he could build a castle in a place where castles had never existed, he could make the surroundings look a bit more appealing, but perhaps he liked living in a place filled with murky swampland and twisting trees and not much in the way of wildlife unless you counted the phantoms drifting around. The ghostly shapes didn’t bother me as a spirit myself, so we ignored one another as I floated up to the gates surrounding the huge dark-bricked castle dominating the swampland.

  Most people in this part of the Parallel—if you could call them people—belonged to the Death King. First were the wights, skeletal beasts who rode around on horseback and fought tirelessly for their king. Then there were the liches—tall, shadowy and ghostlike. If killed, they’d simply come back in a new, identical body, courtesy of the amulets in which they kept their life essence. Not a fate I’d have chosen for myself, that was for sure. Two of them stood on either side of the gates, but none said a word to challenge my presence. A sweeping gesture indicated that I could go in, so I did, floating straight through the gate and into the castle grounds.

  No liches hovered on this side of the gates, though I should have known better than to expect the Death King himself to come out and greet me. Or one of his chosen Elemental Soldiers, each hand-picked as a representative of the four elements of air, earth, water, and fire. The last time we’d seen one another, he’d unexpectedly offered me a job as his own personal Spirit Element, which I’d turned down mostly out of shock. After he’d locked me in jail and ripped out Brant’s soul—temporarily turning him into a lich—I’d assumed any chances we’d had of ever being allies had crumbled to ashes. As it was, I’d helped him regain his throne from the dickhead who’d stolen his soul, while he’d helped me survive the aftermath of the fight and ensured the Order hadn’t punished me for the laws I’d broken.

  We hadn’t spoken a word to one another since. Truth be told, I hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to him after all that, but if he thought I’d turned on him, I’d be more than happy to put him right on the matter.

  I floated up to the castle doors, which were made of dark wood that matched the bricks, surprised to find no liches on guard duty like there normally were. I hovered awkwardly on the spot, not wanting to float through the doors in case I got ambushed for trespassing. It wouldn’t be the first time, but back then, it’d been a total accident.

  I looked around for any signs of life… or death… but even my friend Dex was nowhere to be seen. Granted, the fire sprite wasn’t the Death King’s biggest fan, either.

  I reached out to knock on the door, and my hand passed through the wood. So much for that idea. Huge pillars embedded with grinning skulls stood on either side of the gates. The Death King had once hinted that the skulls belonged to people who’d annoyed him, and he wasn’t the type to joke around.

  “Alas, poor Yorrick,” I said to one of the grinning skulls. “I knew him, Horatio. I wonder what you did to deserve this fate. Trod on the Death King’s foot, probably.”

  I stiffened, sensing someone watching me. A tall, shadowy figure had passed through the doors without opening them, silent and still. The Death King wore a long dark cloak and an equally dark suit of armour which moulded to his body. His dark mask concealed his features, though I was fairly certain nothing at all lay beneath. Yet somehow, I still knew he was staring at me.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

  “Long enough. You’re quoting Shakespeare.”

  “Yes. I am.” Why was he looking at me like that? I didn’t think I’d done that bad a job at my Hamlet impersonation. “Where are your guards?”

  “Dealing with important business,” he said. “I’m somewhat surprised to see you here like this.” He gave a sweeping gesture at my transparent form.

  “I didn’t think it was worth the hassle of coming here in the flesh,” I told him. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t recall asking you for help.”

  “Excuse me?” I folded my arms across my chest. “What was the point in sending your Air Element to give me a rude wakeup call, then? They woke me up and accused me of spreading your secrets.”

  “Not on my orders, they didn’t.”

  “It’s a good job I didn’t bother breaking the law to come here in the flesh, then.” Nobody managed to infuriate me quite like the Death King. “What was the accusation for? Did you get bored and decide you needed to start a feud with someone?”

  “I meant they weren’t supposed to threaten you,” he corrected. “I did ask them to bring you to speak to me.”

  “What do you want with me, then?” I frowned. “What’s so important that you couldn’t come to see me in person?”

  He beckoned me to follow him into the castle. “Someone is killing my liches.”

  3

  I stared at the Death King for a moment. “What? Someone’s killing your people? How is that possible?”

  “I imagine you know how.”

  “No, I really don’t.” Liches were immortal. Kill one and they just got up again, courtesy of their souls’ separation from their bodies and stored in a— “Oh. The soul amulets?”

  “Yes.” His voice tightened with anger, and I pictured the expression on the face that lay beneath his mask turning to rage. Or rather, the face that had once been his, back when he’d been human. He put on an illusion of his human guise whenever he crossed over to Earth—a handy way to avoid freaking people out—but most of the time he played the Grim Reaper. Effectively, I might add.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Someone stole one of your souls again?”

  “So it seems.” The fury in his words hit me like a whip, and I barely suppressed a flinch. “I don’t yet know how they did it, but it’s only possible for one of us to be killed if the vessel holding their soul is compromised.”

  Well, shit. “You think the lich who betrayed you is still around? Or Cobb told someone else how to break into your hall of souls?”

  “That, or he and his allies took more than one soul during the original theft,” he said. “There is no other way for one of us to die.”

  “I’ll take your word for it on that,” I said. “But if you don’t know who’s responsible, then I’m not sure if I can be much
help.”

  “You have more experience in the area than the average person, and you remain the only living person who has seen what the inside of my hall of souls looks like,” he said. “Except for my Elemental Soldiers, of course.”

  What was he implying? “I didn’t tell anyone. And I wouldn’t have known if any of the other souls were missing. Didn’t you put extra security outside after the incident a few weeks ago?”

  “I did,” he said. “Nobody has ever stolen anything of mine aside from the recent transgression, so I can only assume it’s connected to the individual who took my own soul amulet out of my hands.”

  No kidding. The place was a fortress, and of all our enemies, only the traitorous lich had survived—by virtue of blending in among the other liches. While the Death King distinguished himself by the armoured clothing he wore, the others were near-identical. Picking one out of a line-up would be all but impossible.

  “If someone stole more soul amulets, were there any signs of a break-in recently?” I asked. “Are you certain they disappeared at the same time as yours?”

  “No, but the victims’ soul amulets are all unaccounted for,” he said. “I want you to find them.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I said. “I can hardly walk around the market asking about stolen soul amulets, can I? People will recognise me from the battle. I’m as big a target as you are.”

  “Do you really believe that?” he said. “How many times have you been recognised here in the Parallel since the battle?”

  Well… none. Not that I paid social calls to the residents of Arcadia most of the time, unless I was sent to confiscate illegal artefacts on the Order’s behalf. While the Death King’s soldiers recognised me as the person who’d saved their master’s soul, to ordinary people, I remained a nobody.