Chapter One
Hell’s Gill looked like any other slot canyon. Situated in the northwest sector of the Yorkshire Dales and sharing a border with the Lake District National Park, it was a narrow five-hundred-meter-long slash in the ground, created over the centuries by the clear, cold waters that still ran at its base. Although not particularly deep, it had become a favorite haunt of cavers and scramblers alike, all of whom had no idea that this was one of the most dangerous places on earth.
Hell’s Gill wasn’t just a slot canyon.
It happened to host the main entrance into Darkside—a reflection of our world that existed on a different plane.
It was also the home of demons, dark elves, and who knew what other nasties.
Though no one these days remembered how, multiple gateways had formed between our plane and theirs. Most of these were considered minor and, until recently, the only demons that came through with any sort of regularity were juveniles seeking to hone their hunting skills. Every gateway was both magically warded and regularly checked, and the witch council in the nearest town was generally responsible for dealing with any incursion.
The magic protecting the main gateway had never fractured. Not since Uhtric Aquitaine—the last Witch King to hold the great sword of power—had closed it after the last major incursion hundreds of years ago, anyway.
Unfortunately, all that was about to change. Three hours ago, Mo—who I called my grandmother even though she was centuries older than that—and I had flown over to King’s Island, where Uhtric’s sword had for centuries been encased in stone, and discovered it gone.
A new king had claimed it.
One we believed was already in league with Darkside.
I peered over the edge of the old stone bridge that spanned the Gill. A pool of dark water lay directly below but narrowed into another gorge several meters further on. Vegetation spilled over the edges of the canyon, hiding much of the sides and the water-smoothed cutaways deeper down. Though I couldn’t see the main gate—aside from the fact it was night, it was basically under the bridge and deep within a cavernous cutaway—I could feel the pulse of protective power that emanated from it. It spoke of fierce storms and deep earth, of cindering heat and the violence of the sea—Uhtric’s magic, still in place, still protecting us.
But for how long?
I looked up and studied the gently rolling hills of the surrounding area. There was no indication the night held any life, let alone any danger, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t out there. Darkside’s inhabitants were very good at concealment.
I gripped my two daggers in my claws, then fluttered down to the main section of the bridge and shifted back to human form. The De Montfort line of witches were not only healers able to both give and take life, we were also the only line capable of taking a secondary form—that of a blackbird. Mo had once said this was part of the reason it had become our duty to guard the king’s sword—few ever suspected or even looked for watchers in the sky. Which, given many demons were winged, really didn’t make much sense, especially when—as birds—we had no real capacity to fight.
Another blackbird soared up from the darkness of the Gill and swung toward me, her dark brown feathers shimmering in the moonlight as the shifting magic crawled over her. Mo landed lightly beside me in human form and shook off the beads of moisture dotting her bright orange coat.
I leaned back to avoid getting smacked in the face by her long plait of gray hair and then said, “Any indication our new king brought the sword here to test it?”
“No, and that’s worrying.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d have thought it would be the first thing he’d do.”
“Unless he’s well aware we’d be thinking that and has reacted accordingly.”
As if in response to that statement, something stirred out in the deeper darkness of the night. I scanned the immediate area again. The gently rolling hills remained empty, but I couldn’t escape the growing certainty that something was out there—that someone was watching.
“Possibly. The bastard’s been one step ahead of us from the get-go.” Mo strode over to the edge of the bridge. Though her right leg was still in a protective boot after she’d fractured it in a fall down the stairs, it really wasn’t hampering her movements in any way these days. “I’m thinking we need to place a wall across the gateway’s entrance.”
I frowned. “How will that help? He has the damn sword—he can simply blast both your wall and the gateway open.”
“Not if I build it strong enough. Not without some effort on his part, anyway.”
“Hate to say this, but he hasn’t exactly had too much trouble unpicking your magic up until this point.”
“That, my dear Gwen, is because no one fully understood what we were dealing with—”
“A murderous, bloodthirsty would-be king intent on destroying his rivals, the monarchy, and anyone else who stands in his way, you mean?”
I kept my voice deliberately light, but heartache nevertheless slipped through me. Two of the people he’d destroyed were my cousins, and both had suffered utterly brutal deaths.
“Yes.” Just for an instant, something shone in Mo’s blue eyes. Something that spoke of heartache and great sadness.
It was a stark reminder that she’d lost far more than me—not just over the last few weeks, but also during the long centuries of her life. She’d buried children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and who knew how many others, all because none of them had inherited the so-called god gene that extended her life. In all likelihood, she’d bury both my brother, Max, and me just as she’d buried our parents. Unless, of course, her genes suddenly kicked in and extended our lifespans—and given I hadn’t even inherited the De Montfort ability to heal, that was looking ever more unlikely.
“However,” she continued softly, “now that we do know, we can react accordingly.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
She cast a smile over her shoulder, her eyes shining with power. I’d always known she was capable of far more magic than her De Montfort heritage should have allowed, but it wasn’t until a few days ago that I discovered why. Mo was a mage, and one of only three still alive. Mages differed from witches in that not only did they have a mega-long lifespan, but they were capable of performing a vast range of spells and had the capacity to harness the power of the earth and the skies. Four other witch houses—there were seven in all—were capable of harnessing an element, be it earth, air, or darkness and light, but the dilution of bloodlines over the centuries now meant there were varying degrees of control. The Aquitaine line of kings could technically manipulate fire, but their main skill set was the ability to syphon energy from all elements—though it was only via the king’s sword that it became a usable weapon against Darkside.
“I’ll create the wall; you deal with any demons or dark elves that might approach before I’m finished. It should be quite simple, really.”
I couldn’t help a wry smile. “Yeah, because everything up until now has been absolutely simple.”
“Well, the law of averages does say we have to strike it lucky sooner or later. Ready?”
No. I took a deep breath and then nodded.