It didn’t surprise Morgan to see Katar in front of the charge, leaving his people behind to suffer their fate alone. Although she wanted to stay and fight, their lack of weapons would only lead to more people getting slaughtered. She refused to risk her men in a battle that they couldn’t win.
After traveling another mile at a brisk pace, the soldiers began to regroup around them…those who survived. The trees thinned out, the path turning rockier, while the fog became denser. She didn’t like the way it seemed to be herding them.
Atlas kept to the edges of the group, the mist almost seemed to caress his leg as he moved past. She didn’t like the possessive touch, but the fog didn’t harm him in any way or seek to infect anyone else…almost as if they were doing exactly what it wanted. To her surprise, the sunlight seemed to reverse the effects of the fog in Atlas. In the daylight, he appeared his normal self, the tint to his skin fading, but she feared when darkness fell the infection would return with a vengeance.
Atlas caught her frown. “Stop worrying. While dark elves have some homicidal tendencies, they are aimed at their enemies. We should reach the gates soon. You should prepare yourself. Entrance is a test of worthiness. It can be a bit…abrasive on the nerves.”
“What do you mean?” Morgan hated tests. Tests always meant pain in her experience.
“It will take your worst fears and amplify them. It’s the gates’ defense mechanism. To make you turn back.” His expression turned grim. “Don’t assume what you see is an illusion. Everything is backed by magic, meaning—”
“It can kill.” Morgan rubbed a tired hand down her face, her body still aching from Katar’s abuse. “Everything in this realm seems to want to kill us.”
“We’re getting close.” Excitement brightened Katar’s voice, the prick practically dancing as they drew closer, and she picked up her pace.
“How many others have you sent to discover Tartarus?”
“Fools.” Katar waved a dismissive hand. “Apparently, only the uninfected can open the seal. After the first few parties disappeared, I had to come up with an alternative plan. That’s why I worked on discovering a way to preserve myself.”
“The last time you cracked the seal on Tartarus, you released a plague. Has it occurred to you that there will be more traps waiting for us?”
“Not to worry.” Almost giddy, he rubbed his hands together. “That’s why you and your men will go first. If another plague is released, it will give me time to escape.”
Ward remained a silent shadow to Katar until now. “You’re a fool if you think you can take Tartarus and make the fog come to heel like a pet. Your immunity is already wearing off. Can’t you feel the mist edging closer?”
“We must hurry.” Katar scowled, becoming twitchy, scurrying along faster, as if to escape the fog, and she wondered if his paranoia that the fog was hunting him might not be that far off. It stalked his every movement, as if sensing he was the one who released it and was hungry to devour him.
By midday the soldiers had been reduced to a third of their original numbers while scavengers continued to pick them off one by one. Morgan and Katar and her men were kept protectively in the middle, and it chafed not to face the enemy directly.
The ground became even rockier, the landscape giving way to craggy hills. The rock and sand had a red tint. Even the atmosphere was hazy, giving the landscape an alien feel that reminded her a little of Mars, the area a barren wasteland devoid of any magic.
When they rounded the next curve, the path was bracketed by two pillars, the stones crumbled, the archway having long since turned to dust. The only way to proceed was to go through.
“We’re here.” Katar rushed forward as if to greet a long-lost lover.
“It’s…not what I expected.” The entrance to hell was a little underwhelming.
“It’s a portal.” Ward studied the structure with interest, his attention moving from Katar for the first time since the collar had been placed on him, the murderous rage seething beneath the surface banked for a moment.
As they drew closer, a hum of power emanated from the stones. “It feels…”
“Ancient.” Ward crouched to study the remains. “The gods of old created this place.”
Morgan blinked, and the foreign words etched into the pillars began to glow slightly. “‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’—that’s real?”
“It’s a threat.” Ryder glared at the pillars, looking ready to smash them.
“Or the gods’ twisted sense of humor.” Draven muttered.
“It a warning.” Kincade disagreed with the others, and Morgan had to agree.
“A lot of the myths on earth originated from actual places and events.” Ascher ignored the others and stepped protectively between her and Katar. “You can change your mind. We don’t have to go through with this plan.”
“Do you have any other ideas?” Because she couldn’t think of a single one. If they wanted to save Atlas, this was their only choice. When he remained silent, she sighed. “I didn’t think so.”
The monstrous roar of a jungle cat on steroids rumbled from the passageway a few yards in front of them, the low sound skipping right over her instinct to fight and told her to run like fucking hell.
“Time to go.” Atlas strode past her toward the archway.
And vanished.
A steady line of soldiers began filing through when another roar reverberated in the air…but much closer. “What the hell is that?”
She glanced at Ascher, since he’d lived in this realm the longest. He grabbed her arm, shoving her in line and quickly following. “If I had to guess, I would say a saber-toothed tiger.”
“Huh?” Morgan’s brain shut down, and she dug in her heels, craning her neck to see around the line of people. “I want to see.”
“No, you don’t.” Before she could protest, she found herself flung over Ascher’s shoulder and hauled through the portal, his warm hand resting distractingly close to her ass. The last image she had was Kincade’s and Draven’s amused expressions, while Ryder narrowed his eyes at Ascher’s hand.
Then everything around her went black.
It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness and her brain to realize they had been transported underground. Ascher pulled her down from his shoulder, dragging her down the front of his body. The man was built, the delicious heat of him soaking into her, making her want to linger and explore.
“Morgan.”
“Mmmmm.”
Ascher swallowed hard, but didn’t protest further.
When the other three guys entered the portal, they plowed into them, and knocked some sense into her. Feeling her face heat for her momentary lapse of judgement, Morgan turned away and studied their location.
A warren of passageways crisscrossed the cave system, each one looking as uninviting as the rest. The room was lit well enough for her to see, but she wasn’t able to trace the light source.
“Fey light?”
“No.” Ward touched the wall, rapping the stone with his knuckles. “But the magic used is so powerful, I can’t tell what is real and what isn’t.”
And he didn’t seem happy about it.
When she spun to take in the whole cavern, her good cheer vanished. “The portal is one-way.”
“The only way out is to pass through the tests. Only then will the portal re-open.” Katar stood on the opposite side of the room with what remained of his soldiers, while her men lingered protectively at her side.
“Which way?” Morgan turned toward Atlas, not trusting Katar to lead.
Atlas shook his head, not even bothering to investigate. “The last time I was here, the cave was a castle overlooking a bottomless ravine. They created this specifically for you. To reach the gates of Tartarus, you need to select which passage to take.”
What the hell did the magic read from her that said to stick her in a pile of dirt hundreds of feet below the surface?
“No.” Katar strutted toward them. “This is my mission. My decisions. She’s only the help.”
He perused the options, then selected the one with the most light and the biggest opening. The one that screamed danger. “That’s the wrong way.”
Katar didn’t even pause his stride. He lifted the pendant from around his neck and pressed the button. Ward grunted, a trail of smoke rising from the sizzling metal collar.