35. Owen

Owen stared at the long iron fence that ran along the perimeter of the graveyard in the distance and hoped they wouldn't meet with the Horgg again. The paths they took all through the night were full of broken stones. Luckily, there was no sign of the giant, and so far, they could see without the nuisance of fog or darkness.

Most of them were quiet as they trekked through the site, per Rem's request. Dark clouds drifted overhead, while snow drifted down, and an eerie chill swept through the area. When they stopped to rest in the afternoon, a musty odor filled Owen's nostrils.

While Rem's men unpacked food and passed around meager portions of tough mutton and stale bread, Owen sat alone, away from the Hunters.

When Rem sat beside Owen with a bowl of stew, Owen refused it.

"You should eat," Rem said, holding the spoon out for him.

"I just lost my appetite," Owen responded.

Despite the insult, Rem smirked. "Perhaps you'd rather I grab your head and force it into your mouth instead?"

Owen's jaw clenched. "I'd rather starve than allow you to feed me like the sick bastard you are."

"Hm, well, eventually you will grow hungry, and then you won't be able to refuse the hand that feeds you." Standing to his feet, Rem eyed him before walking off.

Owen stared after him, imagining his purple fire consuming him. If only his hands weren't bound so tightly, and he wasn't in constant pain from his injury, then maybe he could summon his fire and burn them all.

When they resumed walking, Owen felt the weight of Rem's words when his stomach growled. No, he wasn't hungry, but his body was. His stomach couldn't understand why it had been refused food, and now the result was weakness. Despite this, Owen trudged on.

The graveyard seemed to expand endlessly in all directions, and the iron fence was no longer in sight. Rem's men shuffled along, a few of them muttering and chuckling with each other. The only other sounds were the clinking of their weapons and the crunch of their boots on the dirt. The weathered path wove around deadened trees, and water rested in depressions between gravestones.

Clove ran ahead of them, scouting the areas as they came into them. Often, she looked back at Owen and whined, and he couldn't help but pity the poor animal for having Rem as an owner.

Owen steered clear of the water puddles, hoping no strange creatures would spring out of the pools to grab his ankles as it had done with Colt. He swallowed hard and looked up at the sky. He hadn't prayed to Alenar in a while, and now, in his quiet desperation, he closed his eyes briefly as he thought his prayer out.

Please keep my companions safe from harm.

They had been walking for hours by the time evening arrived, and Owen's legs tingled and his muscles throbbed. His arm was in so much pain, he had no choice but to stop and rest. He thought of using his Essence as he had in Quinnby's tavern, with his mind alone, but doing such a thing had been incredibly draining. He didn't have the strength to summon that amount of energy again, and even if he tried, it still wouldn't be enough to take out all of Rem's men. There were at least ten of them surrounding him.

No, it's best if I keep on with him and do whatever he wants. Then Colt, Gilda, and Brom can stay safe. It's better this way.

To comfort himself, Owen looked down at his bracelet around his left wrist, his heart swelling at the sight of the brass honey bee clasped to the leather. He sighed heavily, missing Colt already.

"Think that beastly giant will show?" one of the Hunters with a low, worn out top hat asked.

"Let's hope not," answered another with a full beard.

When a snarl broke from a cluster of trees, all eyes turned toward the sound. Rem's men brandished their weapons, swords drawn and bows at the ready.

Growls filled the graveyard as three dark beasts with long snouts and black eyes made their way out from the trees and headstones. Owen readied his hands, separating his palms as much as he could in the bindings. He would preserve his energy as long as he could, though, and let the Hunters fight this battle.

"What are those?" a young Hunter asked.

One of the beasts came slinking up to them, and Owen recognized the animal. He'd seen its likeness before, in the book in Ivormor.

"Shadow graugs," Owen said quickly.

A few men looked at him, and one of them asked, "How'd you know that?"

"I read it in a book." Owen cut his eyes from the Hunter to Rem, who sneered before preparing his firearm.

The beasts looked slightly different from what was depicted in the picture he'd seen before. They were hairless, their skin dark and their eyes red. They looked almost like huge rats mixed with dogs, but there was no doubt that this was what they were staring at. The beasts came at them, but Clove charged at one, sinking her teeth into its throat and taking it down immediately.

Rem's men flew into coordinated action. At Rem's order, arrows flew into each beast at the same time, and they fell to the ground, dead on impact.

"Is this all?" One Hunter laughed. "The fun ended too early."

As if in response, more beasts flooded out from the shadows, now more aggressive. Rem kicked one's head with his boot before stabbing it. Another beast pounced on one of the Hunters, pinning his arm down, and the man yelled out for help.

Owen pushed through the throng of Rem's men and stretched out his fingers toward the beast. Enough Essence flowed from his fingertips to make the animal stumble backward, and it released the man. Disoriented, the beast yelped and whined, backing off.

Another Hunter screamed behind them as a beast sank its sharp teeth into the man's neck, and then a firearm went off, and the beast howled as it fell to the ground. Two more men stabbed it viciously, killing it, as more beasts ran forward.

"Pull together!" Rem yelled. "Form a circle!"

Cold steel met hot flesh. Snarls and growls came within close range. Something wet and hot slung against Owen's neck. When another shot rang out, Owen jumped from the noise.

A beast yelped weakly, and then a chilling chorus of whines rose up before silence fell over the graveyard. Another minute passed. The slaughter was over. Peeling his eyes open, Owen released a breath. His heart was a loud drum in his head. Sweat ran down his temples and beaded on his upper lip.

"One man down," someone said.

When the circle of men diffused, Owen saw Rem crouched next to one of his fallen. The kill had been instant. Blood stained the man's neck and mouth.

Clove sniffed the man, then whined softly before moving away. Blood dripped from her jaw, and she walked with a slight limp, and Owen's heart broke at the sight.

Placing his fingers on the dead man's eyes, Rem closed them. "Rest in the Vale," he muttered. Then he stood up, his face like stone as he stared at Owen. "I told you not to use your Essence at all. Need I remind you what will happen if you do?" He glared at him.

"I saved one of your men's lives," Owen snapped.

Rem narrowed his eyes before moving away. The rest of them were quiet as they passed by the dead Hunter, making peaceful gestures with their hands or muttering their condolences while others dropped trinkets on his body.

Then they continued along, as if they were now over it and the man no longer mattered.

When night fell, none of them could sleep, and they kept so quiet that Owen swore he could hear all of their hearts thumping nervously. From beside him, one of Rem's men shook as he brought a waterskin up to his lips. Water dripped down his shaggy beard.

When Owen met the man's fearful eyes, he told him, "I hope it's all worth it."

The man swallowed. His hair was tied back into a band at his neck, his brown beard unkempt. "I hope so, too, lad, for your sake. And ours."

Owen finally ate, after Rem removed his ties, which surprised him, but one of the Hunters watched him the whole time, which made him feel queasy.

Rem seemed to never sleep. He walked the grounds instead, and Owen could sense his tension, despite appearing confident. Rem's men were cautious, their eyes alert. At the first speck of dawn twilight, they continued onward. As they journeyed deeper within the graveyard, a stone path marked their route forward. Headstones became more common, most of them too weathered to be read, overgrown with fungus and lichen. As the path ascended a hill, so did the grave markers. Some had fallen over, while others lined a dirt wall at an odd angle, as if the ground had drooped, and the stones right along with it. Drizzle fell, making the fungus-covered pathway slippery, and a thin mist gathered around them.

Owen's throat was dry from panting up the hill, his lungs feeling heavier than usual, and his back was sore. He stretched and rubbed his muscles. It felt as if they had climbed this path for hours, moving at a pace that left them breathless. Finally, they crested a steep incline and found themselves on an expansive and desolate plateau. The rocky ground was uneven, but bare. There were no headstones or grasses, and before them, upon a slight hill in the distance, was the Gate.

The sight took Owen by surprise. He didn't know they had come so close to it already. His heart hammered, and a clenching dread swept through his chest.

"This is it," Rem said into the silence, his voice low and almost reverent.

The mist had dropped, and now the wind picked up, blowing leaves and dirt across their path. With it came the smell of something putrid and rotting. Then Owen saw it, a pile of skeletons, though he could see no skulls. Owen let out a breath, wincing with a sudden sickness as he recalled the heads hanging from the Horgg's belt. Nearby, a weathered wooden pole jutted out from the ground. On the end of it was a tattered red Legion flag, nothing more than worn strips of faded fabric.

The scent of cinnamon suddenly hit him, and his eyes widened as he scanned the area, finding only a few towering mausoleums in the distance.

He's here, but where?

As if in answer, someone yelled out, and then an arrow shot their way, taking one of Rem's men down to his knees instantly.

As another arrow flew past, the Hunters were prepared this time. One of them tried to pull the injured man to safety, but he was suddenly struck with another arrow.

Looking up, Owen spotted Lou, the man who had shot Amias down. He wielded a crossbow, same as that dreadful night in Milarc, and beside him stood Elian, his blue eyes menacing as he stared at him.

Owen began backing away, but Rem grabbed him viciously by the arm.

"My men will take care of them. Now go on." He pushed Owen toward the worn stone steps leading to the Gate.

As Owen raced up the steps, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Owen!" Elian shouted, and Owen looked over at his executioner. He held his breath as he awaited the Core Wielder's next words. "By order of the Legion, you have been deemed a threat that must be dealt with. I will have no mercy on you!"

"Don't listen to him," Rem hissed. "I will keep you safe."

Owen's heart pounded, and he let out a breath as he stared at the Wielder's fierce eyes. Would this man truly have no mercy on him? This man who Owen had sensed coming and going throughout their entire journey across Avathon? This Core Wielder had followed him this whole way, just to kill him?

Rem nodded at his men, then said, "Kill them."

The remaining Hunters strode forward, but they halted when Elian and Lou drew out their Cores. Their spheres seized several of them, rendering them unable to move. Four of them dropped their swords and grunted as they tried to fight the power of the Core. For a moment, it looked as though the Wielders would win this fight, as their weapons caused the Hunters a great deal of inward pain, and Owen's heart seized with dread.

I'm going to die.

A shot rang out from beside Owen, and he jerked away from Rem. When Owen looked up, he saw Lou doubled over on the ground, the Core gone from his hand and blood soaking his shirt around his chest.

Smoke swirled from Rem's firearm. With one less Core controlling them, a few of his men were able to regain control and gathered their weapons back up.

Elian's eyes widened in horror, but he never once let up from using his Core on the Hunters. Before they could take the Wielder down, the ground suddenly thundered and shook. Heavy, quick steps rushed at the Hunters, and before Owen could register this thunderous sound, he saw the giant Horgg dashing their way.

Everyone ran out of its path just as the Horgg slammed its enormous spiked club down with a roar. The ground vibrated, sending shock waves that sent everyone staggering back.

As Owen stumbled into Rem, the man grabbed him and pushed him up the steps, leaving his men behind. When they reached the Gate, Rem pulled Owen's dagger from his coat and wedged the hilt into his bound hands. "Open it."

The Hunter's face was a mixture of excitement and fear as he looked back at his men attempting to attack the Horgg. Elian was thrown into the mix, forced to aid them and take it down, and Rem was taking advantage of their brief time before the Wielder could get to them.

In the midst of it all, Owen caught the scent of lemon, and also incense and pine. Eyes widening, he looked to the east, the direction toward Bridge's home, and searched for his companions, but he saw no one.

Perhaps I'm just losing my mind in all this… I don't want them to come for me.

As the sounds of slaughter went on behind him, Owen looked up at the Gate with wide eyes. It was huge, scaling at least fifteen feet high. Two curved black handles graced its iron. There was nothing behind it, as Amias had told him, and hundreds of candles encircled the door, melted and misshapen.

It was clear that all Owen needed to do was move forward and insert the dagger into the keyhole. Even bound by his wrists, he had a firm grip on the hilt. Turning, he made his way forward, each step echoing the beat of his heart. He swallowed hard, his eyes peering up at the Gate with dread… and curiosity.

His eyes found a keyhole, nothing more than a rectangular slit on the right-hand side of the door. He raised the dagger, and it began to glow yellow.

An arrow flew their way, nearly taking Rem's head with it. Gasping, Owen stepped back as he looked at the arrow now lying on the ground, noticing it was one of Colt's that he'd made himself.

Owen's heart sped up, and he turned to see Colt standing with his bow. His lover was here, looking dirty and sweaty. How had he been able to get here so quickly? Had he run the whole way without rest? But then a cloak of dread passed over Owen. If Colt was here, Rem wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

No, no… why did he come after me?

"Let him go," Colt demanded.

Rem snatched Owen and held him in front of him, whipping his firearm out and placing the cold barrel against Owen's side. "I only need him half alive." When a sound clicked on the firearm, Owen looked down, his heart seizing.

He's serious.

"Alright, alright!" Colt set his bow and quiver on the ground and held his hands up in defeat.

In the distance, the attack against the Horgg was turning dire, as the sounds of slaughter against Rem's men echoed in Owen's ears. He could even hear Clove barking and snarling from somewhere. She had thrown herself into the pit of violence in order to keep everyone safe. Owen realized just how ruthless this man was, how evil and cruel Rem truly was to let his own men die. The sounds of clashing steel surrounded him, and in the chaos was Elian's voice, cutting through it all. Owen couldn't figure out what the man was saying, but he seemed to be getting closer.

A glint from the right of the gate startled Rem, and he jumped back as someone ran at them. It was Brom, who came at Rem with a sword, ready to cut him down. But Rem was ready, and he held up his firearm and pointed at Brom.

"No!" Owen yelled, but the shot had rang out, and then Brom gave a loud cry as he fell to the dirt.

"Brom!" Gilda emerged from just behind him, panting as she crawled up the hill. She bent before him and glanced at the wound in Brom's side in horror, then she pulled off her scarf and pressed it against the gushing wound to stop the bleeding, just as Agnes had done with Nel.

Owen let out several short, panicked breaths, but when he stepped forward to help, Rem jerked him back by his injured shoulder, and he hissed in pain.

"I'd hate to have to shoot Colt next." Rem cocked his head at Owen as his firearm moved to Colt, who looked desperately back and forth between Brom lying on the ground and Owen, seemingly not knowing what to do.

Shutting his eyes tightly, Owen tried to drown out all the noise to focus. There seemed to be no rational answer for what to do, other than to fight, and with his hands bound, his body injured and exhausted, and a firearm leveled at his friends, Owen was at a loss.

Gilda growled as she stood to her feet, her fingers curling around her steel knuckles she had yet to use on their entire journey through Avathon, until now. She glanced at Colt, her eyes stern, as if trying to relay something silently to him.

"I don't usually resort to such measures," Rem said darkly. "But you have all given me no choice."

Snatching the dagger from Owen's hands, Rem pushed Owen away, so hard that he fell against the Gate, hitting his head, and crumpled to the ground.

Trembling, Owen sat up and attempted to channel his Essence at Rem, but his power was weak. That's when he noticed how Rem's body seemed to glow with a strange aura. Owen blinked several times, wondering if he was seeing things, but it was no trick of the light.

Gilda dashed toward Rem in fury and flung out her hands, but when her Essence had no effect on Rem, her face twisted in bewilderment. The confusion swept over Owen as well, baffled as to why she could no longer use her Essence on Rem.

She growled and swung out her arm, making a swipe for Rem with her sharp knuckles. Behind her, Colt was slowly making his way around to Owen, and Owen tried to crawl to him.

Gilda ducked under Rem's mad slashes at her with Owen's dagger. After one last duck, she popped up beside him and thrust her arm forward, but Rem dodged it and kneed her in the stomach before gashing her hand. She let out a cry, doubling over, and Rem grabbed her by the hair and spun her around to pin her against him.

Colt was nearly to Owen, but stopped when Rem placed Owen's dagger against her throat.

"You are nothing without your Essence," Rem told her, holding her tight as she struggled to get away. "Remember that as you fall into the void."

Both of them froze, and Owen's eyes widened as he caught the deadly look in Rem's eyes. They were filled with a burning rage. Then Owen saw the flash of light on steel as Rem dragged Owen's dagger across Gilda's neck, slicing through her flesh so quickly that Owen couldn't even make sense of what he was seeing.

Blood spurted from Gilda's throat into the mist.

Dark blood.

Dripping. Choking.

Killing.

A scream climbed up Owen's throat, but it lodged before it could ring from his tongue, and instead he heard Brom's wail instead as he lay in the dirt, still holding his bloody wound.

Owen watched in horror as Colt rushed over, catching Gilda as Rem stepped away. Colt's face went white with shock as he cradled Gilda's twitching body in his arms, his own hands becoming red as he pressed his palms against her throat. But his hands could do nothing, and when Gilda's eyes froze, her brown irises reflecting the sky and her body going still, Colt rocked her with silent shock.

It's not real, it's not real.

Owen stared at the charm he'd given Gilda, laying against her chest, now stained red. His lip trembled, but no tears sprang to his eyes. None of this made sense. This must be a nightmare. He would wake up soon.

Gilda was dead.

"I brought you here to open that Gate." Rem sneered. He bent down and wedged the bloody dagger that had just killed Gilda into Owen's hands, then he stood up and pointed his firearm at Colt. "I have been granted protection in the name of the dark one. None of you will best me. So if I have to slaughter your lover next to see it happen, I will!"

Owen could do nothing but stare at the dagger, now stained with the blood of the woman he had grown to love. His body trembled. His knees shook. When he glanced at Colt, a tear rolled down Colt's cheek, and Owen's heart broke.

"How much more blood will be shed before your loved ones are saved?"

A chill ran up Owen's spine, tingling his scalp.

"Open the Gate, Owen. Only then will your companions be spared. The power within you is not strong enough to withstand the obstacles before you. Without me, you are weak."

Blinking, Owen let out a breath as he saw the hooded shadow man slinking around him several feet away, invisible to everyone but him. This strange voice had wanted to guide him, and now it was telling him he was weak without…

What?

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to drown out the shouts behind him. Had Elian died in the Horgg attack, or was the man still alive? And the Hunters? Colt and Brom? Owen knew now that Rem would not hesitate to kill Colt. Rem had already taken Gilda"s life, and perhaps Brom"s. But Owen could keep Colt alive.

Now he stood under Rem's twisted gaze, knowing he had moments to choose, with the shadow man urging him to open the Gate as well. It seemed he had no choice. It was true that he was weak. He had no fire left in him. He couldn't summon the fire in his veins, as his hatred had numbed to stunned defeat.

I give up.

With shaking hands, Owen got to his feet, gripped the hilt of the dagger in his bound hands, and pushed the blade inside the keyhole of the Gate. The steel glowed yellow, and when he turned it clockwise, something clicked. The Gate reacted, and the doors slowly opened.Owen stepped back, panting. Terrified… exhilarated…

A rush of wind howled around them. The sky grew dark. A strange sensation passed over him, prickling the skin on his scalp.

Owen looked into the hollow darkness beyond the door. Whispers traveled in the still air. Small pebbles and dirt on the ground drifted over the threshold and into the darkness, as if being sucked in.

Something wasn't right. The air around the Gate reeked of a rotting darkness he didn't want to touch. The scent of bile surrounded him until he could taste it on his tongue. He felt nothing but shadows. The dark energy terrified him, yet it pulled him in, calling for him. The unknown was within his grasp. His friends' freedom, the voice…

Power.

He took a step back, and when a heavy gloved hand dropped on his shoulder, Owen grimaced in pain and looked over to see Rem.

"Good boy," Rem said, walking forward.

As the darkness of the Gate seemed to deepen, Owen took a step back until he bumped into someone. Jumping, he turned around to find Colt, who took his shoulders in his bloody hands.

But the sounds of the world seemed to drown out, and while Owen focused on Colt's lips, trying to understand what he was saying, he could hear nothing but a deep ringing that eventually muffled all noise around him. Something vibrated, deep in his body and soul, moving up into him from the ground. His arms shook, and suddenly he wasn't sure where he was or what was happening.

Cutting through it all was one voice that he knew, and when he turned his head and looked below, he saw Elian climbing the hill toward them, panting and holding his side.

Sound suddenly rushed back to him as he turned to Colt. He had cut Owen's bindings and was shaking him.

"Owen!" Colt cried. "Owen, answer me!"

Then it dawned on him. All of it.

Gilda lying dead, Brom injured and pale, Colt before him, Rem's men below them, and Rem himself standing before the opened Gate of the netherworld, the Unseen Vale.

He planted his shaking fingers in his hair, the last few minutes playing over in his head over and over again, and he breathed in and out quickly, tears pricking his eyes.

"I killed her…" Owen choked. "I killed her."

Colt took his arms and tried to hold him, but Owen resisted and instead collapsed to his knees, feeling weak and faint. Colt fell with him, holding on to his arms.

When Elian's voice cut through the chaos, Owen looked up to see the Wielder several feet away, his coat glistening with blood. His blue eyes widened, his face wincing as he held his side. This man had shown up a minute too late, and now Owen wished the Wielder had taken his life as he'd intended.

A low rumble sounded from the Gate, and black smoke curled out from within the darkness. The rumble intensified, causing the ground to split from the Gate all the way down to where Rem's men were. The beastly Horgg fled the scene, as did crows and vultures, animals that had not previously been seen. Even Clove. Then someone grabbed his arm and yanked him up from the ground and toward the Gate.

Colt came at the man, his fists flying. He landed a punch on the Hunter's face, and then they all three staggered as the black void before them seemed to suck them in.

"Owen!" Colt called after him, grabbing his hand, but he lost his grip.

Someone still held onto him from behind, and Owen fought against them, knowing it was Rem.

And then all light and sound was snuffed out again, like a flame within a deep airless cave. The silence was heavier than the darkness of the graveyard. He couldn't tell if he was walking or falling. The sensation was dream-like, unreal.

A stinging, cold rush of air washed over him just as he realized he was desperate for breath, filling his lungs, his veins. His skin prickled all over. Rushing air filled his ears. He waited for death within the darkness, but it never came. The moment didn't last long, and soon, his feet touched solid ground.

Slowly, the world came into view.

He was in a clearing. Dry, brittle trees surrounded him. The area was doused in a green hue of light. Fast-moving clouds blocked the sun, making the sky appear darker than Owen knew it was. Any sounds made were drawn out and slow, muddled as if being heard underwater.

Before him was what looked like a castle, all black stone with ugly jutting spires that reached toward the sky. Owen stepped back, his eyes wide at the sheer magnitude of it. Beside him, Rem glared at him, and Owen pushed him away before turning on his heel to run, but Rem grabbed him and pulled him around.

"Let me go!" Owen pushed against him, but Rem's hand was tight on his arm.

"I have yet to use you for your final purpose, Owen. If you think opening the Gate was all you were useful for, I implore you to think deeply about all of this. Remember what I said about being your mentor?"

Fear seized in Owen's chest. He wanted to get as far away from this sadistic man as he could. He had no strength or courage to muster up his fire, so instead he drew back his left arm and hit Rem square in the nose.

Rem reeled back, his face bloodied, and Owen took the chance to run. His whole body was in pain, but he pushed himself onward to get away from the Hunter.

"Owen!" Rem screamed. "Get back here!"

The world seemed to rush by in a blur, and it wasn't until Owen stopped, out of sight of Rem, that he looked around to get his bearings. Was he in his own world, or was he simply on the other side of the Gate? Was he in the Unseen Vale?

Am I dead?

He wandered through a copse of trees, and when he emerged into a field, the sky darkened, as if evening was approaching quickly. He caught sight of a deep valley below. Several boulders littered the ground, but there were no hints of life, no animals, no sound.

A shadow loomed across the valley, seeming to come from the castle, as if something reached out. It throbbed like the dull sound of a beating heart, drawing near him.

He stumbled forward, making his way around the valley and toward a cluster of trees. Thoughts of Gilda, of her dead stare, rushed back to his mind. He thought of Brom, shot and bleeding. Was he still there, or was he in this place too, sucked through the Gate? And Colt… Owen had lost his grasp. Where was he? He wasn"t sure if Colt was in this place or not, but Owen knew he was still alive, as he hadn"t felt his energy break from him, as it did with his mother when she passed, as it had done with…

A sound stirred from behind.

Owen whirled around, his heart jolting. He saw someone moving through the trees. For a moment, his chest ignited in hope that it might be Colt, but it died when he caught sight of someone else.

He backed away slowly. The man who came into view was not who he expected: tall, slightly hunched and dressed in gray tattered rags. A gray scarf wound around his neck and up over his mouth. Eyes the color of ice peered out at Owen.

Both of them looked at one another, transfixed, unmoving. Owen swallowed hard, glancing at the weapon in the stranger"s hand.

When the man brought up a bow, he aimed an arrow Owen's way and said, "Run."

to be continued. . .