The Dark - By Marianne Curley Page 0,3

see it?’

‘The city is under the lake at Angel Falls. It is one more thing that Lorian keeps hidden from me. But one day – soon – I will find the way in, and its secrets will be mine.’

‘Is there something in particular you want from this city, Highness?’

Lathenia’s eyes flash at the young man. He is more astute than she realised. Perhaps his other power is finally starting to reveal itself. ‘There is a key, in the shape of an eight-sided pyramid. If you find it, Bastian, I would make you a king, and your realm would be immense. But heed my warning – the key has the power to kill any mortal that touches it.’

Bastian swallows deeply, his mind focused on the concept of becoming royalty. The idea of his own realm sparks visions of grandeur. And now that Marduke is … well, gone, maybe his own talents will be more noticed. ‘It must be an important key, Highness. Does it open a chest of treasures?’

She scoffs at the boy’s naivety. ‘Perhaps one could call it that. But it’s not the sort of treasure that will bring you wealth, Bastian. It is a treasury of weapons. The finest and most powerful to be found in all the worlds.’

In the ensuing silence Lathenia’s eyes wander back across the room to the still body of her loved one. Bastian watches as the Goddess’s hand, with her unusual fingers, splays across the blood-stained chest of the Order’s highest-ranked master. ‘You must forget the key for now, Bastian. And forget Arkarian too. I will deal with him. You don’t have the power. Not yet at least. And he is much more highly skilled than the average Guard. I have a plan for him that I will spin into action very soon. But I do have a mission for you. An important one.’

‘I am nothing but your humble servant.’

‘Bring me the name of the one whose hand held the dagger that stole Marduke’s breath.’ Spinning her head, Lathenia pins Bastian with ice-cold eyes, ‘He may even attend your earthly school! Find him! Do you understand, Bastian?’

Bastian nods and takes a deep breath. ‘Yes, Highness. I am to bring you the name of Marduke’s murderer.’

Somewhat comforted by the very thought of revenge, Lathenia’s attention returns to Marduke’s slain body before her. A wave of grief grips her as she gently runs her fingers over the disfigured half of his face, the empty eye socket, the vacant side of his mouth, old scars from a previous battle with one of the Named. She kisses the cavities softly. ‘The world will pay for this death. They will feel my grief. They will see my rage.’

‘And so they should, Highness,’ Keziah makes himself known once more.

She stares at the shrunken old man, seeing he has more to say.

‘But perhaps, Mistress, for a small price …’ He makes a money motion with the fingers of his left hand, ‘something can be done to ease your pain.’

Her shoulders lift, her chin rises. ‘Speak, Keziah. For your life it had better be worth the words that flow from your shrivelled lips.’

He coughs into his cupped hand, his chest rattling and whistling. Catching his breath again he says, ‘If you are prepared to make a journey in search of your beloved’s soul—’

‘I would do anything to save him. Explain yourself. And quickly, my patience is sorely tested this day.’

‘The middle realm, Highness. The place Marduke’s soul wanders, looking for a white bridge that will lead him to his final destiny.’

‘Of course! He died within a mortal body while still in the past! If we reach him in time, Keziah, before he crosses that bridge …’ Her words drift away, but her meaning remains clear – there is a chance Marduke will live again. The very thought makes her immortal heart lurch.

‘We will need your assistance to venture there, Highness. And perhaps your hounds could be of use to find him quickly.’

‘I won’t need my hounds to find him,’ she dismisses. ‘I would know him in any world.’

‘There’s just one more thing,’ Keziah says, hesitating.

‘Go on, old man! Hurry!’

‘Your voice must be the one of his soul-mate, or he will not return.’

She smiles, and without answering, transports them into a grey and twisted forest, Bastian included for the experience.

With the sudden drop in temperature, Bastian shivers. ‘Are you sure Marduke’s soul is in this place, Keziah?’

Keziah snorts as the Goddess moves on ahead, as if she were one of her own hounds