But such an outpouring would be little more than a waste of energy. To stop this plot—to save the children born into this madness, if it indeed it was at all possible to save them—we first had to find just how far the infiltration into Winterborne went. And, perhaps, even more urgently, just how close they’d gotten with their tunnels.
My gaze returned to the bloody stump, and I frowned. Why was her right hand lying on one side of the rock fall and her body here on the other? Given both bracelets had been retrieved, it suggested the rock fall had happened after both her death and that of the Irkallan. But why would they bury one and not the other? Did they do so merely to conceal the Irkallan’s body, or did they, perhaps, want to ensure no one else could escape this way? Given the children they were breeding were capable of using the lifeless earth when our witches weren’t, they had to know any earth-capable escapee would be able to get through the barrier. So maybe the blockage was meant to stop us from realizing the full extent of the tunnel system if we did manage to get through the dead earth.
Which left one more rather vital question—if this child had been with Saska at the time of her escape, why did she then abandon her? It made no sense—not given the heartache I’d seen in Saska over the death of her babies.
I stepped away, and then stopped. I couldn’t leave the child here in this darkness. At the very least, she deserved to lie in earth that had the beat of life. I couldn’t guide her soul on but I could at least provide her the comfort of a resting place that wasn’t sterile and empty.
I took a deep breath to gather my strength, and then once again called on the air. This time, there was no rush of power. The breeze that answered was gentle, filled with reverence and care. The child’s remains were carefully wrapped and then lifted from the soil. Though her body had to have been lying here for at least a week, there was little in the way of decay or bloat. Perhaps the fact we were so far underground, with no heat or insect life present, helped delay the decomposition. Or maybe her exoskeleton-like skin was keeping the process at bay. The Irkallan hadn’t stepped too far along the lines of decay, either.
The wind turned the child around, and for the first time, I saw her face.
It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. My breath left in a huge whoosh of air, and all I could do was stare.
Because the child’s face was mine, right down to the stain on her cheek, although that patch lay on her right cheek rather than the left. The other slight difference was her eyes—hers were silver with a ring of brown around the iris rather than the golden of mine.
I fell back against the wall and pressed my hands against my knees, sucking in air as I battled the urge to be sick. Horror pulsed through me, not just because of the uncanny resemblance, but because it surely meant there was a blood connection between me, Saska, or perhaps one of those other kidnapped women. There could be no other reason for this child being my mirror image.
Freedom, help me… it was my kin involved in this plot, be it willingly or not.
I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get both the shock and my thoughts under control. This latest fact didn’t really change anything, even if it did add weight to my desire to see it all ended.
I pushed away from the wall and directed the air—and the child’s small body—forward. As I stepped over the Irkallan’s remains, I hesitated, then drew my knife and chopped off its head. Trey might be able to hear my thoughts—and therefore be well aware of everything I’d discovered down here—but others might need hard evidence before they could be convinced that the enemy we’d long thought in hibernation was instead actively plotting our downfall.
I grabbed the head by its two antennae, holding it away from my body as bits of fluid and who knew what else began to leak from it, and continued back down the tunnel. When I reached the end of the rope, I grabbed it with my free hand but didn’t immediately tie it on. There was time enough for that.
“Trey, you still up there?” I said, as I finally neared the shaft.
“Where else would I be?” His voice was heavy with anger. “Damn it, Neve, I told you not to risk—”
“That risk was worth it, trust me.” I paused, and frowned. “Have you been catching my thoughts?”
“Not since you released the rope. It would appear proximity is a factor.”
“Then I have a whole lot of bad news for you,” I said. “But first, I’m sending you up a body.”
“Whose body?”
“A child’s—a stained child’s. She should be buried in soil that holds the beat of life, not left in this sterile, empty darkness.”
“Are you sending her up via the rope?”
“No. The air.” I directed the wind to hold her vertically rather than horizontally, and then sent her up the shaft. “She’s on her way.”
Light flared down the length of the shaft, momentarily blinding me. I shielded my eyes against the glare and watched the child’s body rise. When the air had lifted her free of the entrance, I took off my jacket, placed the Irkallan’s head inside of it, and looped it around my utilities belt. Then I tied the rope back around my body and said, “Right, you can haul me up now.”
He did so, quickly and efficiently. The minute I was topside, he said, “That child could almost be yours.”
“I know.” I undid my coat and held it out. “But this is even worse.”
He quickly unwrapped the head, and his expression shifted from one of puzzlement to disbelief and horror.
“An Irkallan? It cannot be—”
“It explains the extensive staining on the three children who attacked Blacklake. It also explains why witches are being kidnapped—they’re forcibly impregnated to produce children capable of using magic, but whose actions can then be controlled via the bracelets.”
He swore and began to pace, his strides long and angry. “We’ve been monitoring the Blacksaw Mountains since the end of the war. There’s been no sign of movement in or around that place.”
“Well, there wouldn’t be, especially if they were going underground rather than over.”
“Even that doesn’t make sense. Young children, stained or not, wouldn’t have the strength to create such tunnels—it’d more than likely kill them. Besides, it was only thirty years ago that the disappearances started happening, and they’d need far more women to produce the number of children required to make such a vast undertaking viable.”
“You said the dead patches started appearing more than fifty years ago. What if witches have been disappearing far longer than we’ve presumed? What if this plot has been happening for centuries rather than years?”
He swore and thrust a hand through his dark hair. “We need to get back to Winterborne—urgently.”
“Not before we bury that child—”
He swung around and I saw the denial on his lips. But his gaze met mine and, after a moment, he gave a short, sharp nod. He strode across to the viable earth and, in little time and with very little effort, a deep grave had been dug.
I shifted the tiny body into it and gently placed her on the bottom. “Rest well, little one. May the earth grant you the peace and happiness that was not yours in life.”
“And may those that reside within the earth’s magic treat your soul with kindness, and guide it on to rebirth,” Trey added softly.
I watched the small body being covered with earth and tears trickled down my cheeks. It was irrational to feel so emotional about a child I’d never known, and maybe it was due in part to the link I seemed to have formed with Saska. Or maybe it was the fact she looked so like me that it wasn’t hard to imagine it was my child down there in the dirt. Either way, those tears kept falling.
Trey didn’t say anything. He simply tugged me into his arms and held me. “No child, whether they’re kin or not, deserves to die alone like that,” he said eventually. “We have to stop these bastards, Neve.”
“Yes.” I pulled away from him and quickly brushed the tears from my cheeks. “Winterborne needs to be warned.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to drive?”