A Curse of Blood and Power: A Chronicle of Fanhalen

by Viviene Noel

  And the horse heard. The mare became wind, flying along the dirt road, she, too, feeling the encroaching threat.

  They leaped over a fallen tree, dodging branches and shrubbery, and when they were nearing the exit, when the light was somehow visible again, Fàaran yelled, ‘Ravine ahead!’

  How deep? How long? They were presented with no alternative. Behind them lurked a monster far worse than death itself, and before them a thin chance at life. Faith was all they had in this moment.

  That, and the power of their mounts.

  ‘Jump!’ Mahena screamed in answer.

  They had to make it. She saw Fàaran whispering to his stallion’s ear.

  She leaned on her mare. ‘Fly, love, fly.’

  51

  Emmerentia’s heart leapt inside her chest as Mahena made the jump, her hands awfully tight on the reins. As she landed, the twin left the ground.

  Emmerentia let go of the reins and tipped her head back as the full force, the sheer power of the horse beneath her pushed off the ground and she was flying over that deathly ravine. She forgot everything that mattered for that semi-second, forgot her name and her past and all the fucked-up shit she’d ever done—and howled with adrenaline fueled glee. Then the hooves hit the ground on the other side, and she laughed, almost manically, overtaken by that sense of giddy freedom that came from cheating death, arrogantly mocking it—what her heart had been missing.

  The passage opened up on another side of the forest as she thrust her heels into her mare’s flank, pushing her forward, faster, faster, faster. She overtook her brother and Mahena, tears sliding past her face as her roaring only intensified. She snapped her fingers behind her head and instantly heard Fàaran picking up the pace.

  In the shadows of the day, Emmerentia raced her brother through a grey clearing, through a thicket of bushes, through thorns and branches and curling mist, until the horses slowed down and Fàaran held up a hand. They groaned in pain as they dismounted, but she felt light and airy and almost remade new—an intake of fresh air she hadn’t grasped in so long.

  Night had come quickly, although perpetual darkness enrobed them like a tight blanket. The twins dropped their capes on the forest floor and as though they weren’t in the most infamous forest of them all, laid on their backs, arms folded beneath their heads, and sighed loudly.

  Emmerentia had the vague sense that Mahena was dismounting next to them, but the twin turned her head to her brother. ‘Do you remember when we used to race down the river, and bet who would stop last by the drop?’

  ‘I was thinking the same,’ he vaguely murmured back.

  Are you alright?

  He gestured skyward. ‘It’s a shame the sky is so obstructed.’

  Fàaran had been awfully quiet, too much in his own head even for him—and he would not say why. Sometimes she wondered if he had a reason of his own for sticking with her this far.

  Behind them, a low whistle had her tilting her head back.

  ‘Catch that,’ Mahena said, throwing their rations to them.

  They came back to a sitting position as she joined them, crossed legged on the ground.

  ‘By all the non-existent gods,’ Emmerentia breathed out as Mahena bit a chunk off her salted pork strip, ‘that was fun.’

  But a wary, confused, questioning stare met her still wild gaze. ‘Do…’ Mahena started, but retracted.

  ‘Rub that sheer terror off your face, woman.’ Emmerentia waved a finger in the air as she gobbled down a piece of meat. ‘It was utterly brilliant. But what scared you anyway? The horses acted up but beside dirt and branches there was space for none on the path.’ A strand of hair fell loose on her face and she placed it back behind her ear.

  Mahena toyed with her braid. ‘How much do you honestly know about the defences of this kingdom?’ She hesitated, then continued, ‘Cadran said the mages tasked with its protection used to do despicable experimentations on anyone they could get their hands on. Do you know about any of that?’ Her voice was shaky, her eyes veiled. Emmerentia’s heart twinged in response.

  Fàaran frowned. Emmerentia searched her memory to no avail. Her brother didn’t seem more informed. ‘Spill.’

  ‘So you two can mock me again? I don’t think so.’

  Emmerentia’s giddiness slowly faded, and it was with a gentle, but firm tone she voiced her next words, ‘We could have died, because something scared you.’

  Mahena stared them both down, rolling her shoulders. ‘I don’t know what it was, but we would have died a horrible and slow death if it had caught up to us.’ She clenched and unclenched her fists, her eyes focused on the bit of dirt before her. ‘How long before we reach the capital? I want out of this forsaken place.’

  Fàaran swallowed the piece of meat in his mouth. ‘A few days, depending on the terrain as we go forth.’

  Mahena swallowed. ‘Will you tell me the tales of this forest? Whatever you remember.’

  Surprisingly, her brother obliged them. As he unfolded horror after horror he remembered somehow, Mahena seemed to cave inward. After a moment, Emmerentia reached out a hand and placed it on her knee—she eased into it a bit. The tales were meant to keep strangers away from their sacred grounds—from their unholy business, more likely.

  ‘Are any of them true?’ Mahena wondered as she folded her hands underneath her thighs.

  ‘I have never heard of a report.’

  The girl chewed on her bottom lip as she tightened the cloak Mayfair had gifted her.

  ‘The Valàandari secluded themselves from the rest of the kingdoms. As far as history goes, they have remained private—very little escaped their walls, very little was reported on how the royals ruled their lands, on the inner workings of their society. It is said they worship a pantheon of gods and knowledge above all.’

  ‘But you believe we will be allowed in?’

  Emmerentia coughed at the question, breaking the disturbing silence of the forest.

  Fàaran continued, ‘We have to go with the hope the princess will uphold her decree—whoever knocks on her door will be protected. If it was let out of the palace, then there is no technical reason she would be selective about it.’

  ‘But why would she let strangers in, at this time? I bet neither of us look like we could belong. Do you even speak their language?’

  ‘I can get by,’ Fàaran said.

  ‘With a terrible accent.’

  ‘Keep bragging.’

  Her brother’s smug expression dropped—disbelief, outrage.

  Mahena ducked her chin and clamped her lips together. After a moment, she stretched, extending her palms high above her head. ‘How does it work for tonight, is anyone bothering to sleep?’

  Fàaran confirmed, ‘We all need to, at least for a few hours.’ On that note, he got up and went to lie down next to Fàrak.

  ‘I am jealous of how fast he falls asleep,’ Emmerentia admitted, breaking the smothering silence that assaulted them every time they stopped talking. The ambiance floated between vague mystery and an edging awareness, as though their crossing of the forest depended on never catching a breath.

  ‘Your dynamic is entertaining,’ Mahena smiled.

  Emmerentia arched a brow. ‘What is entertaining to you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, the way you two act with each other. The responsibilities you both carry on your shoulders seem to get forgotten and you remember to be just, you know, young people—siblings, who argue and bicker like everyone else.’

  The twin felt the shadow flicker in her eyes.

  Mahena blinked. ‘How old are you anyway? I don’t recall ever asking.’

  Emmerentia laughed lightly. She had stopped counting the day she left her parents’ manor and the celebrative parties had ended. ‘Does it even matter? Younger than what you probably think.’

  ‘I can imagine
children grow up a lot faster here.’

  B

  Mahena wasn’t naive to the point of believing that some part of Earth didn’t force children to become adults way before their time. It happened everywhere. Yet here, it seemed that regardless of your class or kingdom, adulthood and responsibilities loomed before they should. She still saw those kids running about the war camp in Val d’Horà, carrying supplies, food, and water, helping out wherever they could. It appeared difficult for her to understand the reality of it, without being thrown in the thick of battle. She saw the camp, the wounded, the noise, yet... It was behind the lines, in the captain’s tent. It was safe.

  Mayfair grinning flashed before her eyes. She blinked it away. ‘I am curious. You know, if I don’t talk you will just mute until he wakes.’

  ‘You should get some rest, too.’

  She wouldn’t be able to, that monster flashed every time she blinked—she couldn’t understand how only the sight of the spiders had ignited fear, but that thing, as invisible as it had been, had sent her careening into the depths of hell itself. Mahena rubbed her arm, trying to rub the feeling of intrusion, the tightness in her stomach off. That thing, that monster, or whatever it had been—a spirit—was wrong. Not cunning, not cruel or wicked, simply wrong—and she’d felt it reverberating through her core, sending her soul into a frenzy.

  ‘I can’t,’ Mahena replied as she threw the stick she’d been toying with on the ground. ‘Tell me a story. Something epic you witnessed. Something that won’t steal my sleep away, preferably.’

  Emmerentia studied her for a second, as though she was searching her memory for an appropriate tale that wouldn’t send her squandering into the night, scared out of her wits. Mahena hesitated to lean in, her eyes wandering around. Yet strangely, tonight, she didn’t want physical comfort, just her story-telling voice.

  ‘I heard something in Kordobàr that I’ve been meaning to ask you. Aroguns?’

  ‘Alright.’

  So the twin slid into her midnight voice—a subtle veil of mystery, of sensuality, embracing her words. She turned her body slightly, nestling into the tree they leaned against. Emmerentia angled her shoulders, opening up to her. Her eyes sparkled in the bleakness of the night as she started her tale. Mahena drank every single word, ever so slightly inching towards her friend.

  ‘At the dawn of this world, a giant, golden eagle appeared in the sky, cleaving the sun in two as though it had come from the depth of the star itself, bearing in his talons a leather-dressed woman—the first Castellain queen. The King established his aeries deep in the Savala mountains, the territory so unbearably sweltering no man could withstand it; for he knew already that their power, the sun energy that pulsed through his kind, would be sought after to be used and wielded for purposes he disagreed with.

  ‘They interacted solely with the family who had found them this new land, this new home, and trusted only them with the healing properties of their white, light-filled blood—salves, tonics. They had been chased to near extinction in their home-planet, and with gratitude to the Castellain queen for saving his people, the King taught her how to transform by gifting her with a drop of his own blood.

  ‘During the first Shadow war, they fought on the front lines to push back the invading enemy with a legion of Elgonian riders, their powers the perfect foil to those of the Shadows. Rivers of blood flowed on each side. But the wave of darkness that spread from the combined powers of the Shadow queen and her daughter, as the stars and moon aligned in a very specific way, brought them to the ground. The King, Oras, sacrificed himself in an explosion of light to save the remnant of the army, and the power created allowed the humans to regain the advantage.’

  As much as she didn’t want to be touched after the beast in the passage, Mahena found herself almost in the twin’s lap when she paused for a breath—wide-eyed, warmed, enthralled.

  Emmerentia ignored her getting closer as she finished her tale, ‘They are extinct, according to all records. Parties attempted to trek up the Savala, going so far as to hire Summer Soldiers—in vain. And with the Castellain gone, the only way to reach them disappeared too.’

  Mayfair flashed before Mahena’s eyes again. ‘She was a Castellain, and you remind me of her.’

  ‘Do you believe they are truly extinct?’

  The night around them tightened, a thick cloak of dark, heartrending mystery. A stupidly creepy, yet perfect story night. Mahena found herself breathing hard.

  ‘Evidence suggests they do not. Beyond that, it is possible that they do, and keep hidden within the mountains.’

  ‘Would you want to see one?’

  ‘I prefer the human world.’ When they first saw the wolves, she had cringed. But these were just animals. ‘I wouldn’t close my eyes if one landed in front of me.’

  ‘I’d be the one hiking up that horrendous mountain to go find them.’

  Emmerentia imperceptibly shuffled closer to her, bringing her face very much too close to Mahena’s. The twin willed fanatical awe to her still star-speckled eyes. ‘Would you want strangers knocking on your door to stare at your face?’

  Mahena snickered, ‘Fair point.’

  Fàaran stirred in the distance, a strangled sort of moan escaping his lips, and flipped on his other side.

  She stared into nothing as she added, ‘I still can’t wrap my head around any of this.’

  ‘Any of what?’

  ‘Any of anything.’

  ‘You still think it’s a dream and we’re not real?’

  Mahena opened her mouth, then shook her head, laughing dismissively at her own thoughts.

  But then Fàaran was trailing towards them, his eyes already clear from any haze. He sat down on a log in front of them. ‘Are you going to lie down?’

  He addressed her with such gentleness, like a doll made out of glass that would break at any moment. Mahena knew the twin hated that tone her brother took when he seemed to forget she drew words with daggers for a hobby.

  It constantly felt like he had something to atone for.

  ‘Are you going to give me a choice?’ She placed her hands over her heart, smiling broadly. ‘Be nice to her,’ she concluded, before going to sit down next to the big log a few paces ahead of them. She folded her arms on it, using it as a pillow for her head.

  A few minutes passed, and the atmosphere completely degraded.

  ‘Will you tell me a story, too?’ Mahena asked the now frowning twin, hiding her smile as the question broke out of her lips. ‘History lesson,’ she quickly corrected, ‘I would not dare ask for a personal one. Although I am dying to know.’

  Fàaran cocked his head. Mahena’s insides roiled, hissed at the look.

  And maybe it was the darkness around prone to intimacy, maybe the thrill of the race still ran in his veins, or maybe he was getting delirious with the quest, but he answered with a grin, ‘What would you want to know, then?’

  And maybe it was that thing inside of her that roared at the pure male tone, but she replied with the same one, ‘The darkness you hide from your sister.’

  Mahena regretted it the moment the words left her mouth, the moment his gaze veiled off. As though she had struck home and true.

  Was he really hiding a terrible truth from his sister? What would it be?

  The man got up without a look to her, his fists clenched at his side, and disappeared in the thick branches ahead, his sword dangling at his belt. Whatever he heard in her voice, saw on her face, displeased him so thoroughly he required space to breathe it out.

  Mahena rolled her eyes when she saw him clench his jaw. She just played on the same line as he did. She watched him until she couldn’t discern the lines anymore.

  And then she stared at nothing in particular, left with the exact thoughts she had tried to avoid. At the darkness around, perhaps, spreading like a gigantic web, almost comforting in the sil
ence. For utter silence reigned, occasionally broken by the rare rodents and bugs that dare penetrate its density.

  It had a life of its own, this forest. She could feel it in the air, a life that humans were not welcomed to witness.

  In the darkness, we find our light, our bliss, our power.

  It danced at the back of her head, gliding alongside the threshold of her sanity when she let her mind wander too far, too free of the leash she carefully remembered to pull tight.

  That sweet-poisoned voice humming a song that belonged to another time, another life maybe.

  Its presence also lingered in her dreams, when the deadest hours of the night settled into her bones, her heart, her soul, it rose up from wherever it hid inside of her, and she always awoke with a numbness she never realised the reason for.

  Here, in the absolute silence of the darkest night, she finally realised it.

  And it comforted her. And she soothed into that feeling.

  52

  Fàaran shut down his entire feelings and focused on her scent. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, move another inch eastward in this forsaken forest without finding her.

  This time, she was leaning against a tree, a smile tugging at her lips with her teeth as she filed her nails, elongated canines glinting.

  ‘Are you following me?’ Fàaran knew he shouldn’t talk to her that way, but her entire being blinded him so thoroughly he could not help but play with fire. He wasn’t imagining the scent, he wasn’t losing it, she was here—which he found thoroughly comforting.

  ‘The vermin is growing in audacity.’

  ‘Admit to liking the challenge.’

  Demeera lazily sheathed her dagger, then lifted her molten eyes to his. He froze, his body liquifying on the spot. Gods, not only was she his gods-damned bond, but he would have sold his soul and skin to feel her fingers trace it just once more. To simply hold her.

  He half-expected her to lunge at him at the tone—hoped. Fàaran had started suspecting she enjoyed the teasing, the sheer novelty of it.