A Curse of Blood and Power: A Chronicle of Fanhalen

by Viviene Noel

  Mahena was a mystery. They could spin theories, ponder over a thousand different possibilities, but ultimately it led them back to nothing. That bond—whatever it was—was their only propelling wind. Regardless of what the truth would turn out to be, if they even managed to find it, Emmerentia didn’t need a seer to see the obvious. Whoever Mahena was, she mattered. She could feel it.

  Silence settled for a while, only the slight breeze and nocturnal sounds breaking the peace. The atmosphere was a strange mix of taut and relaxed, with the both of them examining each other in secret. After a moment, when the veil of the night fully enveloped the clearing, it slightly shifted. And Emmerentia didn’t know what provoked it or why, where it spurred from, but Mahena met her gaze and asked, ‘Where does the limit of your darkness lie?’

  Emmerentia frowned. The question didn’t bother her. The tone, on the other hand, was strange, malevolent and the dark spark that flashed in Mahena’s green eyes as she formulated the words unsettled her. Emmerentia repeated, ‘My darkness?’

  Mahena slowly nodded. ‘What are you capable of that scares you? What is your terrible beauty?’

  That sparkle danced in her eyes, like a veil of mist silently enveloping the forest, darkening every corner, shadowing the trees and bushes, reviving the monsters crouched in the shadows. Emmerentia cocked her head to the side, her hand automatically brushing the hilt of her dagger. She willed her body into neutrality. Maybe the little amount of sleep Emmerentia had had these past few days affected her perception, perhaps this was only a manifestation of a tired mind.

  ‘What does it matter to you?’

  ‘I am curious.’ The Earthen toyed with a strand of her hair and the fire crackled, spitting flames. ‘Darkness in humans captivates me.’

  Emmerentia opened her mouth but—

  Mahena blinked, then shook her head. She looked back up, and her eyes were that forest green again.

  Emmerentia watched her closely. ‘Are you alright?’

  Mahena brushed back her hair and nodded, smiling faintly. ‘The question still stands. I find the demons we hide within ourselves fascinating.’

  Emmerentia’s instincts curled up inside her stomach, a tight knot sending warning waves in every direction. On the surface, it appeared innocent, a question matching the atmosphere of the night, the whispers locked up in cages in the depths of all hearts.

  ‘They are hidden for a purpose, and they belong to their owners alone.’ Truly facing her darkness would cost her soul a price she yet feared to acknowledge. Emmerentia made herself smile. ‘Where does yours?’

  Mahena paused, the muscles in her jaw and shoulders flexing. Birds started chirping in the trees above, a fox even dared cross the open expanse of green behind her.

  Mahena exhaled. ‘I am not sure. And I am not sure I’d want to find out.’

  ‘Darkness is open to interpretation,’ Emmerentia offered, relaxing slightly. ‘What might be unforgivable for you could not be for me.’ She reached behind her for the leather pouch filled with cold water, simultaneously releasing her dagger. ‘Fear of what lies within is as dangerous. Acknowledge and embrace who you are, so you can better control it.’ She extended the pouch to Mahena who accepted it and drank thirstily. ‘Have you gone over in the past?’

  Mahena stared at the flame once more, drowning in their movement. Oh, there was something there. So vivid yet buried.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not that I recall. But I am passionate. I give everything, and I’ve always had that caged inner flame that scared the hell out of me.’ Mahena jerked her chin toward Emmerentia’s discarded sword, although her stare was still fixed on the flames. ‘That’s why I never picked up martial arts.’

  Emmerentia frowned at the word.

  Mahena corrected, ‘Fighting, swordplay if you prefer. Because I always felt that if I knew I was capable of causing damage, I would erupt. Which isn’t a good thing.’

  Emmerentia found herself at a loss for words, so she simply shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised at how the scenarios we create in our minds differ from how they pan out in reality.’

  They always turned out differently, for the better or the worse.

  B

  Mahena hissed quietly at the underlying tone in her question. Why would she need to know that?

  The little voice wanted to know.

  To feed.

  Could that be the dark side of her heart, somehow coming to life in this place?

  Yes and no.

  Great. Well, wasn’t that helpful.

  Emmerentia’s body language revealed she noticed the slight change in her words. Mahena would pay a good chunk of money she didn’t have to know what flashed through the twin’s head.

  Mahena hadn’t confessed about her whispering fiend. Too much at once was never good. Later on, maybe. The thought of coming completely clean had crossed her mind, however, it had felt wrong, too soon. Even now, fear coated her bones at the idea of them rejecting her if they considered it too much.

  ‘I should get some sleep before more nonsense comes out of my mouth.’

  Emmerentia waved her goodnight, a pensive look on her face.

  19

  Emmerentia found herself thoroughly enjoying the uneven terrain of Orabel, even if it slowed them down, even if they had to dismount and walk the horses through narrow walkways, uneven hillsides and sometimes questionably shaky bridges. It kept the journey interesting.

  ‘Why have you decided on this route again?’ she asked Fàaran as they stopped to drink. Mahena went to relieve herself, and the young woman took the opportunity to have a quick word with her twin.

  ‘It’s a bit late to question my planning, don’t you think?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I still want to know why we are going through the hills instead of the valley. It would have surely saved us a few days.’

  ‘It would have increased the possibility of a sighting,’ he knelt down to the riverbank and drank deeply, ‘and I have someone to meet at the next town.’

  ‘There’s a town around here?’

  ‘We’re still a fair way off, it’s past the Silver Lake.’

  Emmerentia crouched down, splashing her face with the too cold water. ‘Do you even know what you’re doing or are you just following breadcrumbs?’

  He snorted, not happy to be questioned.

  ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I want to understand your reasoning.’ She searched his eyes, reached through their bond, but he held his shield firmly against his thoughts.

  When her eyes widened, he snapped, ‘Don’t even go there.’

  ‘Do you leave me with an alternative?’

  He sighed, ‘It’s not. I am not chasing her.’

  His shoulders dropped slightly, and the pain she felt in his voice, his resignation at the idea, pierced her heart. It wasn’t the same as hers, but she believed him when he said he wouldn’t look for the Shadow. Although…

  ‘Would she help?’

  There was a second of hesitation in her twin’s eyes, as though he was concealing a truth and pained to hide it from her.

  Fàaran shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ask—’

  ‘Leave it.’ Fàaran pushed back up at the rustling of clothes and leaves behind them. ‘If my meeting at the Inn is unfruitful, then we can revisit a change in the itinerary.’

  Emmerentia muffled a low curse as she turned around. Mahena was glancing between the two of them. The twin waved her towards her horse, whispering as she walked by, ‘Stubborn prick.’

  Mahena chuckled.

  B

  Mahena peppered them with questions about their world. Now that the pretense of amnesia was dropped, she was free to beg for all the knowledge she wanted without fear of retribution. And unfortunately, the outlook was grimmer than she’d thought.

  The armies t
hat could be spared had been sent to the capital of Dartar, the largest land in Fanhalen, and established a stronghold there. The natural topography of the lands, and the number of citizens, had allowed them to rapidly build a line of defense that ran through Val d’Horà up and down the kingdom.

  The Shadows had taken the northernmost kingdoms. They had sealed a treaty with the Winged-King to remain neutral, and had received the surrender of the queen of Hondora, in the south, in exchange for free roaming through her lands—and the safety of her citizens. Dartar had been holding for two years, beating back assault after assault, and no one seemed to understand why the queen of Einàr had not yet sent her full forces to overthrow the continent completely. External forces still appeared to be debating whether to help.

  Mahena realised she had never asked questions about the other continents—and there were others, at least three. Emmerentia had vaguely mentioned a tribe of female warriors on the southern continent. As someone culturally curious, there were so many details to register she sometimes lost sleep over it, gazing at the night sky going over that precious history.

  Soon, they hit the top of the plateau. A breeze ruffled her hair and she abruptly pulled the reins. Mahena felt her mouth drop wide open in what she was sure was an imitation of dry fish on land. The sun had reached its zenith and now showered the lake spreading in the clearing below them, the sunrays glistening on its surface as though it was a living thing of pure silver.

  Lining the bank, white trunk trees with lush, almost emerald-like large leaves stood guard. Above the quiet, sparkling water, flying things hovered, their shimmering wings reflecting the sunlight. For a moment, the world disappeared. Mahena almost choked on air as she beheld the landscape.

  There was nothing, no one, only that crystal-clear expanse of water and mountains in the distance. Absolute silence reigned, as though it was a law to be observed. It seemed not even the birds dared make a sound and disturb the abnormal tranquillity.

  It almost felt like a break in time.

  She brought her free hand to her forehead to shield her eyes. Her pendant warmed against her skin—a weak, flailing pulse.

  ‘What is this place?’ she breathed, conscious of keeping her voice low.

  Emmerentia answered to her right, ‘The Silver lake.’ There was no awe in her voice, as though she was accustomed to the view.

  For a second, just one, she breathed the air in—something else entangled in its fine threads, an aftertaste of rose.

  Delicate, but powerful. ‘What’s the story of this place?’

  ‘The lake belonged to a Valorà,’ Emmerentia replied.

  So, magic used to fuel this place. Mahena scratched her arm as a tickle spread.

  Centuries ago, when the first men walked this soil, it was told that beautiful creatures born out of flowers greeted and bred with them. Not that anyone knew how. By binding their blood to the one of humans, they created a generation able to take a physical form that could withstand being away from their source of life. There hadn’t been a Valorà court on this continent for centuries, for undeclared reasons, and most of the kingdoms forgot with time the power those creatures originally wielded. Only straight descendants of the first royal family were technically still able to modify their appearance to become nature, like dryads, rather than simply use its benefits. And apparently, Valoràs had turned out to be extremely coveted by the dark queen.

  As she gazed at the scene in front of her, Mahena realised the twins never told her that.

  The little voice tugged at her, snickering at the back of her head.

  Ignoring it, Mahena said, ‘I thought Valoràs were bonded to the earth as a whole. Is it specific to elements?’

  ‘They have a bond with nature. Some have an inclination to earth, others to water, or to the skies or to animals. Some have it all, some are subtler in their use of it. This one, Shanne, she was something else—she had it all.’

  The name struck a chord inside Mahena, and the image of a slender, silver-haired, ethereal young woman flashed before her mind’s eye.

  Mahena turned her head slightly. ‘Was?’

  The twin smiled bitterly. ‘She disappeared alongside magic.’ Emmerentia stopped, probably realising she was about to say more than she wanted to. She whispered, a sad tone contradictory to her dislike of magic, ‘It was a beautiful place, full of peace.’

  Mahena took the words in, processing the information. Was? Were they contemplating the same spot? ‘What do you see?’

  ‘A decimated oasis,’ the twin said, sorrow coating her words.

  Mahena frowned. They couldn’t be seeing two different scenes? Then her pendant became cold again, and Mahena shook her head, sagging with relief as she beheld the morose landscape Emmerentia had just described.

  ‘Why would this chunk of land spark your interest anyway?’ Emmerentia asked.

  ‘Because it wasn’t sad, for a moment.’

  Behind them, Fàaran kept quiet for a while, waiting for the conversation to end. He cleared his throat. ‘We have to keep going.’

  In all honesty, Mahena admitted that without him to press the pace, it would have taken twice as long to get from Lorna’s place to where they were. She marveled before every flying butterfly, every blooming flower, every tree she’d never beheld before. And Emmerentia seemed to relax, to loosen herself every day a little further. She felt the eye of the twin, always in her corner, a little envious perhaps of her innocence.

  Mahena wondered how long it would last. Not that she believed she’d earned her trust or true friendship; however, she could feel her resolve peeling away at times. The moments she let herself be in the present, the simple instants they genuinely shared when she found in herself the strength to feel safe and appreciated.

  With a last glance at the mysterious lake, she dug her heels into her mare and fell behind the twins.

  They arrived at the first village they’d seen in days the following evening and Mahena beat back tears of joy as she beheld a bed. It was a shitty highway inn, but it bested the bedroll and cold, rigid ground. She dropped her satchel on the side and crashed on the thin mattress. ‘Is there a particular reason why you chose this village to stop over?’

  Emmerentia answered as she, too, sat on her bed, her hood falling off her head, ‘It was just on the way.’ The twin yawned loudly, her brother’s brows rising at the sound. ‘I don’t know about you guys, but I am starving.’

  ‘I highly doubt you know what starvation means,’ Fàaran scowled as he looked through the window.

  She stuck her tongue at the brother. ‘I am really hungry, then. More suitable?’

  His eye-roll could have been heard across dimensions.

  ‘What are you doing anyway?’ Mahena asked after he hung his sheepskin over the only window in the room.

  ‘Sealing any unnecessary spaces,’ he answered flatly.

  ‘Wouldn’t that make it seem like we’re hiding something?’

  ‘It also prevents cold from getting in.’

  Mahena bit back her retort. They’d been sleeping outside for the past week, in that same cold. The fires did indeed keep them warm enough, but he wasn’t sealing the windows out of fear of a breeze sneaking in. Ignore it all, she thought as she twirled the end of her braid around her finger.

  ‘Let’s go get some food,’ Emmerentia’s voice suddenly broke the silence they had sunk into.

  ‘You mean, real food?’ Mahena shouldn’t complain really, they were quite good hunters. But the thought of something substantial made her mouth water. She’d always been at the mercy of her stomach after all.

  On the other side of the room, Fàaran’s brows furrowed. ‘Feel free to do the hunting and skinning and cleaning, next time.’

  ‘Come on,’ his sister coaxed, swinging her legs off the bed., ‘let’s go properly restore our energy.’

  Mahena frowned, too. I
t was hard to believe, after the careful off roads and the cloak-and-dagger acting of their journey so far, Emmerentia would want to step into the world and that Fàaran would not argue further. But she shrugged and followed. Mahena looked over the poor establishment before she stepped down the narrow and rickety staircase. The old lady sat straight at her chair, an even older book in her hand.

  Emmerentia inclined her head to the woman as she passed the reception, whilst Fàaran simply walked out. Mahena smiled at the sight of her, the image striking something deep in her core. She hadn’t really contemplated how the elderly fared in this world.

  ‘How long do people live for, on average?’ Mahena ventured as they rounded a corner. Judging by the state of the buildings, the village was on the poor side.

  ‘Infant mortality is rather high in poor areas, as parents usually lack funds to sustain their families. Kids are often thrown onto the streets or sold out either in the hope of a better future or as a sacrifice for the rest of them.’ There was no sadness in her voice as she stated the fact, as though it was a part of life, simple normality in a completely different world. Although, not so different perhaps. After all, it still happened in third world countries. ‘After that, it depends on the conditions of their lives, their professions and diseases. Magic can prolong a lifespan, but they usually die in some sort of fighting.’

  Mahena swallowed down the next question as they neared what appeared to be the local, and only, tavern. It was no more than a barn really, in as poor condition as the rest of the village, with a wooden roof that seemed to be swaying with the wind. She bit back a comment on the piss-poor place as the twins pushed in the swinging doors, hinges grinding.

  B

  Fàaran led the girls to a booth in the far corner, as hidden from the crowd as possible. He had to keep himself from grunting at his sister, who had known he had business to attend to and yet had still insisted on coming out. The tavern was bigger than the outside suggested, and much fuller than he’d hoped.

  ‘At the risk of not sounding grateful,’ Mahena started as they sat down and her eyes swept the establishment, ‘do you really intend on eating whatever they prepare here? Where I am from, they usually mean pretty harsh food poisoning.’