Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2)

by Hayley Reese Chow

  And there was Seela before her. For a moment, Aza could’ve sworn Seela smiled, maybe even in approval, but then her brows lowered in an expression Aza couldn’t decipher. “Perhaps you will be teachable after all, Shadow Heir.”

  A flash of frustration whipped through Aza, shattering her focus, and suddenly the Shadow Plane was gone. Her muscles screamed as she landed back in the spartan room of Somisidas. Flat on the floor, a splitting pain pierced through her head in thousands of torturous bolts of light.

  Seela appeared before her again. “Spoke too soon, I suppose.”

  Aza tried to form a thought, but the words slipped through her mind. She groaned with the stabbing spikes of pain.

  “You must depart through the door you entered, or you will experience the pain of breaking through it.” Seela rose to her bare feet. “That’s enough for today. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

  “No,” Aza growled through gritted teeth. “I can do more.”

  Seela paused, her pale lips pursed. “Do what you will.” She walked to the doorway and slid the panel open. “When you enter and exit the Plane with ease, I will show you the next step.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Screams

  Agentle hand on Aza’s shoulder brought her out of the blackness. Something cold and smooth pressed against her cheek, and her head throbbed against it. Where was she?

  “Aza,” Makeo said softly.

  “What happened to her?” Witt asked in the background. “She doesn’t look so good.”

  Aza’s eyes fluttered open to Makeo and Witt hovering above her in the dim room. What were they doing here?

  Witt leaned in closer. “Are you okay?”

  Aza sat up in a wave of dizzied pain, her vision blurry through her sleep-smudged eyes. She rubbed her fists into them. When had she fallen asleep? “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice hoarse.

  Makeo offered her his paw-like hand and helped her to her feet. “We came looking when you didn’t show up to the evening meal.”

  “We saved you a plate.” Witt wrinkled his nose. “But don’t get too excited, it’s just boiled rice and eggs.”

  Aza took in Makeo’s gray robes and Witt’s white ones. “So have you been officially initiated?”

  “Maybe Makeo has, but they just had me doing chores all day, and they didn’t even let me talk.” Witt grimaced in mock horror. “On the bright side, maybe I’ll be able to commandeer breakfast and cook something halfway edible while I’m in the kitchen.”

  Witt’s words flowed past her as Makeo pulled her into the swiftly approaching night. Silence had fallen over Somisidas once again with a heavy dusk, and the only lanterns flickered from the buildings highest on the cliff.

  “We found the library though, so perhaps we’ll be able to find something useful in there,” Makeo added.

  Aza nodded, but the words wouldn’t soak in. What’d he just said again? Why couldn’t she think straight?

  “No one will say a word to us though.” Witt scowled, a strange expression at odds with his usual open-mouthed grin. “It’s a good thing Makeo has a strong nose, or we may not have found you.”

  Aza blinked, trying to get her bearings as they led her down a narrow wooden stair. “Where are we going?”

  “Well, we thought you might not want to sleep on the stone floor.” Witt’s words rushed out as though he were nervous. “Not that the pathetic bedrolls here are much better, but at least you could have a blanket against the cold.”

  A cloud passed across the gibbous moon, and Aza stumbled over a missed step. The long fall to the rocks below swam in Aza’s vision, and Makeo’s hand tightened on her elbow, pulling her closer to him.

  “Of course, if you prefer the floor, don’t let us stop you,” Makeo said, his voice tighter than usual.

  He slid open a wooden door to where four long bedrolls lined the edges of another minimalistic room. Shad had already curled up on the one closest to the door, the even rhythm of his small chest suggesting he hadn’t quite recovered from their journey. Makeo let her slide onto the one across from Shad’s and handed her a waiting wooden bowl.

  She shoveled the cold food into her mouth, but Makeo and Witt’s worried eyes stayed on her in the near dark.

  “Aza, this place smells… different, and you’re obviously not yourself. I’m not sure I trust these people.” Makeo looked at her expectantly, but she just blinked, eyelids lazily falling closed and then opening. “What happened today?” he pressed.

  Aza scraped the last bit of food into her mouth and put the bowl down. She had made it into the Plane twice more that she could remember, but neither exit had been graceful. Though she didn’t have the muscular soreness of her usual visits to the Plane, it was almost as if her mind had taken the load instead. She could barely connect her thoughts to words.

  She swallowed, the exhaustion weighing down on her. “I went into the Shadow Plane.”

  “And did you find anything?” Witt asked, his voice tense.

  “Not yet.” Aza licked her lips. “But I will. I just need to work harder.”

  Makeo’s emerald eyes bored into hers. “Somehow, I doubt that’s the problem.”

  ✽✽✽

  Aza found Seela the next afternoon. The woman balanced on one foot on a gusty outcropping, inches between her and a fall to her death. She held her open palms to either side with her eyes closed while a smattering of students imitated her from along a craggy staircase. Aza crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the wooden building hugging the cliffside. At first, she thought they were standing still, but as she watched she could make out the slowest of movements, like a flower turning to face the sun. Their arms and legs slowly rotated with their bodies. And what’s more, they were in near-perfect unison. But how could they be when their eyes were closed?

  Seela brought her other bare foot to the ground and opened her eyes, her gaze cutting straight to Aza. Her students didn’t heed her though as she weaved between them to the landing where Aza shifted against the wall. How had Seela known she was waiting?

  Opening the sliding door, Seela jerked her head for Aza to follow. Aza padded in after her and snapped the door shut behind them.

  Seela gestured to the two cushions already laid out on the floor. “So, you can take the first step now?”

  “I did, and it didn’t even take years of training.”

  Seela laughed humorlessly, her brown eyes narrowing. “Speed has little to do with it. It’s the depth of understanding that will feed your ability. Try as you might, it will not be something you can achieve by force. But our novices do often struggle with the concept.”

  Aza wanted to strangle this woman with her edged words. If she did, would Seela even be able to put up a fight? Seela was tall but lean and carried no weapons. She’d last thirty seconds—at most.

  “The more time it takes me to understand, the more time the Lost have to ravage Okarria.” Aza dipped down onto her mat, crossing her legs beneath her. “But I could see how a hermit would struggle with the concept.” A line of frustration between Seela’s brows brought a victorious smirk to Aza’s lips. “Meet you on the other side.”

  Straightening, Aza closed her eyes. The visual came quickly. She had been in and out of the Plane so much in the last day, her mind seemed to return to the Shadow Plane even when she wasn’t trying. When she was just walking around, or talking to the others, or eating her flavorless food. In all the little spaces between her thoughts, between breaths, in those slight pauses that peppered her every day, she was in the Shadow Plane.

  For all her talk though, for all her single-mindedness, she really wasn’t fast at all yet. Especially not like Seela. It took time for her thoughts to bleed out between them. Minutes for her to forget the cool air on her cheeks, the murmuring of voices outside, and the lump of cushion separating her from the cold floor. Finally, she reached out for the door, yanaa spilling from her fingers, mind straining to bridge the gap. Then, with an almost audible click, she was among the sway
ing gray grass, and Seela waited with her hands folded behind her back.

  Aza grinned triumphantly. “How’s that for a novice?”

  But Seela didn’t so much as smile. If anything, she sighed, as if resigned to the chore of Aza’s training. “This way then.” Seela strode away with long, slow steps.

  Aza took a deep breath and picked up her foot to follow. In her repeated attempts yesterday, she’d realized that just like when entering the Shadow Plane, she’d been trying to use her body to move through it. Which was about as useful as throwing a punch to fight off a nightmare. Using her thoughts to move her body let her go much farther, but it wasn’t easy. Every movement that came automatically in the sunlit world—bending her knees and toes, swinging her arms—took intense concentration here. Everything had to be deliberate. It took her a few moments to acclimate enough to go anywhere. But by the way Seela moved with her usual long-limbed grace, it seemed that it was something she could learn with more training.

  Aza’s gaze swept the Plane as she tried to keep up with Seela’s practiced gait. The emptiness calmed her. Of course, her parents wouldn’t be here. Even if they were dead. The very thought was ridiculous. Did she really believe this was the space between the living and the dead? She’d never seen any dead people here, had she?

  A cloud of little batlike creatures fluttered around them. No faces, just bony wings attached to the dark inkblot of a body. Aza swallowed. Were these the dead spirits? She pointed to one. “So, if we’re between the living and the dead right now, what are these things?”

  “Wraiths.” Seela lifted a finger, and one of the bats landed on it, clutching her with the sharp fingers on its wings.

  “So they’re dead?”

  “No, the wraiths belong here.” She tossed it up and away and it fluttered around her face. “They are neither living nor dead.”

  One landed on Aza’s arm, and she squinted at it. “How is that possible?”

  “They feed on your yanaa.”

  “They what?” Aza brushed away the creature. “So, they’re parasites.”

  “Yes, it’s the toll they exact for your presence, but most of them are too small to do any real damage.”

  A dark line in the distance drew Aza’s gaze. “Most?”

  “Some of the wraiths feed on yanaa, and some of them feed on other wraiths.”

  The dark line grew into a line of shadowy trees. Strange. Aza had just assumed the nothingness went on forever.

  Seela’s eyes focused on the horizon. “If you met one of those, it would be… unpleasant.”

  “Ah.” Aza’s thoughts seemed to grow heavier, but still she felt a sense of relief. It seemed like luck had been with her after all. “Is that what lives in that forest?”

  “The Plane can appear in many ways, but generally, the farther you get from the living world, the darker the realm will seem.”

  Aza’s body tightened. “So, we’re literally walking toward death right now?”

  Seela stopped and turned to her. “Yes, we call it the Mortal Wood. I wanted to test how close you could get.” Her eyes flicked up and down Aza’s form. “The farther you travel from the living, the more difficult it becomes. As your mind has tired, you have started to use your body as a crutch.”

  Aza opened her mouth to deny it and then closed it again. She couldn’t ignore the tension tightening in her muscles. She turned around. “I need to go back to the door.”

  “Ah, so you haven’t figured that out yet.” A soft chuckle escaped Seela’s flat mouth. “The door is just a product of your mind. You can recreate it here if you concentrate.”

  A shout drifted between them on the wind—a short, punctuated cry—familiar this time. Aza sucked in a breath. Zephyr? “That. I’ve been hearing screams for months. What is it?”

  Seela closed her eyes, her long waist-length braid swirling around her. “Like I said, this place connects the world of the living and of the dead. It is a place of the mind and a place of yanaa. As such, sometimes we can hear snatches of either kind here. Especially if the person is strong with yanaa.” She put her long fingers to her neck. “It’s one of the main reasons people seek us out. To listen for messages from beyond the grave.”

  Another yell echoed on the wind, this one from behind them. Definitely Zephyr. Panic chilled Aza’s bones. No. He could not be dead.

  Seela stopped and pointed the way they’d come. “In this case, though, it’s coming from the land of the living.”

  Aza turned, her heart beating faster, painstakingly making her way toward Zephyr’s voice. “Can I go closer? I want to hear more.”

  Seela followed along close behind. “You must mind your strength. You’re not yet practiced enough to stay for long.”

  “I tire of telling you, I’ve been fighting since I could walk.”

  “Ah. And what does the Shadow Heir fight exactly?”

  “Murderers, rapists, slavers… I scrape the scum from Okarria’s hills.” She flashed a cold smile at Seela. “And I send them here.” They were back in the endless Plane now, the gray bordering on a blinding white.

  “Here. They are close.” Seela put out a hand as though to grab Aza but stopped short of touching her.

  Aza scowled, her head whipping around. “I can’t see anything.”

  “Don’t see.” Seela folded her arms once more. “Close your eyes and just listen.”

  Aza blew out a frustrated breath, her thoughts sluggish. She wouldn’t admit it to Seela, but her limit was fast approaching. She pictured the door, when Zephyr’s voice cut through her hazy mind.

  “We can’t get them out if we can’t get into Carceroc to begin with.” His voice was hard, strained. “We have to try harder. Who knows what’s happening to them in there.”

  Aza squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus. Her brother’s voice sent relief shooting through her. So Zephyr had made it safely to Carceroc, but why couldn’t they enter? The creatures trapped within couldn’t escape of course, but everyone else was free to come and go as they pleased.

  Hoku’s voice answered him, though she seemed so much farther away. “It’s like the Carceroc creatures are trying to keep us out.” She panted as though running a distance. “But they’ve never attacked us—"

  “Behind you!” Zephyr shouted. A rattling hiss and a crackle of fire chased his voice.

  Aza’s eyes flashed open. A wave of dizziness rocked her, and her muscles tensed to steady her, yanaa unspooling from them like a kite in a gale. But she’d heard all that she needed to.

  She had to move faster. They were running out of time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Silvix

  Aza stepped out of the building with her mind wrung out and her muscles exhausted. Unfortunately, Seela had been right; she’d leaned on her body once she became too tired to think. Too tired to think. She’d never thought that was possible, and now that seemed to be her normal existence.

  On the landing below, she caught sight of Makeo and pairs of other novices armed with staffs. His shaggy bulk moved slowly against a novice’s willowy frame. Were they sparring in slow motion? Aza stepped down the stairs. Blindfolds wrapped around their eyes. Interesting. Is that how the Wraith-Called strengthened their thoughts?

  With soft steps, she approached from behind them. Even blindfolded, they sparred with confidence, sure and swift, the knocks of the staffs echoing against the cliff wall. Makeo moved to strike low but the novice misread and moved high. Aza winced at the impending blow, but just before impact, Makeo’s staff froze a hand’s breadth from the novice’s knee.

  Makeo straightened and turned to Aza. “You seem in better form today.”

  Aza cocked her head. She was sure she’d been soundless. Had he smelled her? “I’ve made progress.”

  “Have you?” Makeo removed the blindfold and stepped toward the buildings that hugged the cliff. “Then we should talk.”

  Aza closed her eyes and rolled her neck, trying hard not to think of lying down on her hard mat. “I don’
t want to interrupt.”

  Makeo opened the sliding door. “We’re not here for this.”

  Instead of another empty training space, this door opened up to a low ceiling room filled with shelves of books. The smell of paper and dust wafted through the cool air. Makeo weaved through the rows of volumes until they found Witt hunched over a low crimson oak table. One fist propped up his cheek while he scratched at his head with the other, and Shad peered over his shoulder into the open book in front of them.

  Witt looked up and brightened. “Finally! I thought I was going to die of boredom here.”

  Aza pulled out one of the cushions stacked in the corner and sank down onto it. “Why weren’t you out training with Makeo?”

  He shut his book and added it to the stack growing up on the table. “I know with all my many talents, this is probably shocking to you, but I have no yanaa running through me.”

  Though Witt smiled, Aza could see the disappointment curving his shoulders. She turned to Makeo. “And you do?”

  “Apparently it’s a side effect of being cursed by a magus. Their yanaa never fully leaves you.” Makeo leaned against a bookshelf. “But it’s not very strong.”

  Aza ran a finger along the whorls of the table. “But it could be enough for you to visit the Shadow Plane?”

  “Maybe.” Makeo shrugged with a teeth-baring grin. “Anything interesting there to see?”

  “Yes.” Aza straightened, fighting against the weariness weighing on her. “My brother has arrived at Carceroc, but the creatures there are preventing them from entering to move the villagers.”

  Makeo stilled. “You can see that?”