by C D Beaudin
Later that night, Raea sat in her guest room, humming as she brushed her hair. The brush moved through her white hair with ease.
The sweet, soft melody of the song drifted through the room. Along with the silver moon outside, the hum of her song created a haunting atmosphere. Her hair now in a braid, she stood, her white nightgown falling past her feet. She walked to her bed, ready for sleep but her head cocked as a fluttering came from outside her door.
It didn’t come from the hallway. She opened a drawer, and grabbed her ruby encrusted dagger, tossing the sheath on the emerald bed cover. Silently she walked to the second door of the room. She hadn’t worked out the Kevah palace completely, but she was certain this door led to another, less frequented hall.
The perfect place for an abduction.
Perhaps she was only being paranoid. But ever since her sister had gotten back, and her parents died, everything had been…dangerous, to her.
Taking a deep breath, she creaked open the door, the dagger in the air. She was about to bring it down on the man when she saw who it was. Raea relaxed, the dagger falling back to her side.
“I would think a woman of your talents wouldn’t need a dagger.”
“Extra precautions.” She straightens. “It’s late for you to be in this corridor,” she said as she turned back into her room, the visitor following her in. She sheathed the knife and put it away, then Raea turned to him. “Why were you at my door anyway?”
“I wanted to see you again.”
Raea’s eyebrow raised at the bluntness of Daron’s words.
“I should think that is the least appropriate,” she said, but he walked closer to her.
“Kings can decide what is and what isn’t appropriate.” Inches from her face, he looked into her white eyes. His hand brushed over hers, a light touch.
“And what does the king decide this is?” Raea’s words were soft, but hardly gentle.
The lust in Daron’s eyes only intensified.
“Shall we find out?” His words a whisper, he brought his lips to hers.
For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to return this kiss. She kept trying to evaluate the situation. How could he do this to Adara? But then something took over her, and she found herself tangled in an embrace.
And she let herself be lost.
It had been a few years since she and her husband Lord Rowan had separated. He didn’t like that she had a daughter from a former love and wouldn’t believe her when she insisted she no longer had love for Aiocille.
Of course he was right, she’d always love him. When elves fall that deeply in love…their bond is unbreakable.
Even if breaking off a marriage is nearly unheard of in elven customs, she had managed to convince her father to allow it.
Now she was free.
But Daron was not.
Later, Raea sat up, the emerald covers falling off her as she stood from the bed. Walking over to her vanity, she turned back to eye Daron asleep in her bed, his arm resting on her pillow. She closed her eyes, as if the action would eliminate the mistake that had been that night. But opening them, she still saw Daron lying there.
The first rays of morning light filtered in through the open windows. A cold breeze washed in, and the singsong of birds fluttered on the wind. The usual bright, beautiful morning glow would cast serenity on her, but that day it felt like a curse.
How could the world be so happy after what they had done? How could it remain right? Daron was married. The little of what Raea knew of his relationship with Adara didn’t completely free her of guilt. Yes, the queen was barren. Yes, the queen was cold and distant, but should Daron really have sought comfort in ways such as that?
Should she have accepted it? Perhaps that was the real question.
Raea was wise, everyone had said that. But something must have been wrong with her to accept the king’s gesture that night.
The king stirred behind her. She turned her head to look at him, his eyes thin as he adjusted to the light of day. Raea felt a rare flush of heat and color as she blushed, her fair skin a rosy pink.
“Good morning,” the king said warmly, leaning against the headboard.
Raea bit her lip nervously, a small worry wrinkle between her brows.
“No. No it is not.” She picked up his shirt from the floor, tossing it violently at him.
He jolted in surprise. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, no trace of guilt in his voice.
Raea, furious and embarrassed, shook one of his socks at him.
“This.” She gestured with the sock. “This is what’s wrong.” She threw that at him as well.
She paced, feeling flustered. “Now-now I know you are the king, and this is your palace, but I order you out of my room this instant!”
He was quiet. But after a moment of just looking at each other, Daron stood, walking over to Raea. Placing his hands on her arms, he looked into her eyes.
“I am unhappy. I am miserable. My wife hasn’t…her miscarriage caused great strain between us.” His breath wavered as he exhaled. “I haven’t been unfaithful, at least not until last night. But part of me doesn’t care. She is merely a shell of herself now.” He brought Raea in closer. “I love her, and I always will, but it is natural for love to change. I am protective of her and kind to her. But my love for her has altered into a more formal role.”
Raea looked down. “Then let’s have this be a passing mistake. My sister and I will be leaving soon, our stay was only meant to last a few months. It’s been a year.” Her solemn expression changed into something more amused. She looked up at Daron. “Do you mean to tell me that for twelve months you never even knew I was here?”
“Keeping track of the courtiers and representatives is more my brother’s thing.” Daron’s lips curled into a smile.
“Ah. Well, next time, keep tabs on who’s in your court.” She turned away from him, walking toward the door. “You never know if the next beauty may stick a dagger in your back.”
Daron chuckled at the warning.
“He didn’t heed it properly.” Raea sighs, finishing the story. “I didn’t really mean it at the time, but I wish I did. If I had only foretold my sister’s rebellion and the massacre that followed...” She sighs again. “I…I have a headache.” She lowers herself to lie down. “I’m sorry, but I should get some rest.”
“Of course.”
Raea’s muscles are tight, but she drifts off.
Ethiah watches her sleep, pained to see her mentor filled with guilt and sadness. She knows what her mentor and Daron did was wrong. But everyone has made mistakes, and Raea has surely paid for them. Revera made sure of it.
It’s a few hours before Raea wakes up, and the atmosphere in the small room has grown cold. Ethiah hates the cold, she always has, always will. But Raea doesn’t speak either, and while Ethiah hates the cold, silence could kill her.
She’s been alone for too long in her life, silence still frightens her.
When the atmosphere becomes too much for her, she sighs and turns to Raea.
“It isn’t your fault. Revera surprised everyone,” she says.
Raea’s smile is grateful, taking Ethiah’s hand in her own.
“Thank you. I’m grateful for your company and help during these hard times.” She reaches over for her now chilled tea. “When I found out I was carrying Awyn, I left in the night. Revera had found me, told me to return so that the child could be raised by her father. I agreed.” Raea takes a shaky breath.
“When I arrived, Daron’s household was a shambles. His wife had locked herself away. Daron’s brother-in-law Atta was screaming at him, threatening to attack Mera with his army. He almost attacked me, but Daron had him thrown out of the city by then. I was locked up in my room for months, and at my daughter’s first cry she was taken from me. I saw her a total of twice within a week, and then I left. The only thing I left behind for Awyn was my lullaby.
“I would have come back to visit her, but Revera had sent someo
ne to kill me. He almost succeeded, but I fought him off, and managed to get away. I was brutally injured, though, and spent two years lost in the Light Dimension.”
“The Light Dimension?” Ethiah repeats.
“The realm of Sericia. I was gifted with her light magic, and I became…almost a vessel for her power.” Raea takes another sip of tea. “But then…it was torn in two.”
Ethiah’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Darkness had infested it. Zyadar…it’s as if he and Sericia were having another battle. It was disrupting the balance of nature.”
“And when unbalance becomes balance, it’s harder, nearly impossible, to return it to the way it was.”
Raea nods gravely. “Yes. There were some parts of it that survived. I met with my daughter in one of them. But most of it is broken. And while the Light Dimension will likely repair itself as it was designed, I sense something even worse than Revera coming. If it is not stopped, our world will end.” Raea pauses, thinking for a moment.
“I was born with magic, just like my sister. But it was minor compared to hers. Magic among elves…it is normally specialized. I was gifted with light energy, even before Sericia blessed me. I took on the name of the White Lady… But Revera’s magic…it’s so powerful.”
She looks at Ethiah. “I must do something. You’re so young, so innocent. You don’t deserve your world to end, not this way. Ethiah, you must travel to Rohidia. You must aid Awyn, help her in destroying Revera before she can unleash the pure evil within the Isle of the Dead,” Raea pleads with Ethiah, her eyes intense.
Slowly, but without hesitation, Ethiah nods. “If this is my duty to the world, I will gladly give my life if it shall help.”
Raea shakes her head. “Oh, child. Pray it doesn’t come to that.” She kisses her on the forehead. “Now go. Don’t waste any time. It is a long journey to Rohea.”
When Ethiah’s bag is packed, she takes one last look at her mentor before she walks out of the hollow.
Mounting her black horse, Ethiah pulls up her blue hood. The Dark Woods are a perfect place to hide for her mentor. No one dares enter here. Her horse dashes through the woods, the screech of the Dalorin around her echoing in her ears.
The Sanarx took them by surprise. At the edge of Cannan, the Sanarx furiously attack. Aradon and the others fight as best they can to defeat them. Their large bodies are strong and relentless as they pound their large weapons, swinging at them without mercy.
It’s everything Aradon, Eldowyn, and Hagard can do just to keep them from being cut down. Nearly ten are here—Aradon counted—but there could be more on the way.
The cliff beside them daunts as they fight, trying to stay as far away from the steep edge as possible. The river flowing down below thunders, the current rolling and chopping. No one would survive that if they fell in.
Against a rock a Sanarx pushes Aradon. His sword shakes under the pressure of the large beast, the metal screeching as the Sanarx puts more weight onto him. Aradon grits his teeth, pushing forward, kicking the Sanarx’s knees. A loud snap, and the Sanarx buckles to the ground. Aradon pants, chopping the head off the beast.
He wipes the blood from his mouth, a mixture of Sanarx’s and his own. He bit one earlier, trying to get it off him. The metallic taste of the blood doesn’t wash away the foul flavor that was the Sanarx’s skin.
Behind a tree Hagard swings his ax wildly at a pair of Sanarx, both trying not to get hit. Eldowyn stabs wildly from a large rock as more and more of the beasts attack. There are more than ten now, possibly twenty. Aradon scrambles up a tree, perching himself on a thicker branch. He aims his bronze bow at a passing Sanarx, letting an arrow fly. The creature can’t even scream as the arrow hits its skull. It just falls, face first into the ground.
He shoots five more from his spot in the tree, but for every one he shoots, two more come from within the woods. Someone must be watching them, knowing exactly when to send in more troops. It’s perfectly timed.
“Aradon!”
He looks below as he hears his name.
“Aradon!” Eldowyn calls from the ground, searching for him.
“Up here.”
It takes a moment for the elf to realize where he is as he looks up at him. “Aradon, there are too many of them.”
“Stand your ground! There can’t be many more, Karak can’t waste his army on us,” Aradon calls down.
The elf nods, and Aradon watches as he runs with his sword in the air.
A sharp pain fills his chest. His body slows, and his breathing shallows. He looks down to see an arrow stuck at the right of his chest. He doesn’t have time to react when he feels himself fall.
He hears someone shout his name as he falls. Falling. Falling. He’s been falling too long. He should have hit the ground by now, unless he has, and he can’t feel anything.
The scene above him changes. Instead of sky and trees, rock rises past him, the sky becoming just a sliver of faded blue.
But now he can feel the cold water envelop him.
Above him the light filters through the water. The waves ripple atop him, and the current carries him away. The faintness of voices can be heard, though, they may just be his imagination. His body jolts as a strong underwater current rushes through.
He can feel his chest start to constrict. He doesn't know how long he’s been underwater. Only seconds, surely. But it could be longer. His head tightens and feels full. His chest pounds, tightening as if someone was rotating a crank, and it was only seconds from the pressure breaking it. He can’t feel his limbs, nor what he presumes is the icy coldness of the water.
The light from the sky above fades blue. The once distinguishable cliffs, sky, and waves stream into a pure cobalt. It fades even more, turning into a gray.
Then a flash of white and darkness takes him.
Chapter Twenty
The Sanarx made it back into the city. Blood spatters over the white houses and stone walls. The emerald palace walls are smeared with crimson, no different than the snow on the ground. Men lie everywhere, dead or soon to be. It’s a massacre.
But what else is war?
Fighting has become harder as it begins to blizzard. The flurry of white mixed with the hundreds of bodies, loud cries, slashes, and the late evening makes the battle almost unbearable for Kepp. Exhaustion, thirst, hunger, and pain—he fights through it all—now numb to the cries of his fellow soldiers.
He’s always been an emotional elf. Going against the poised, reserved elven traditions, he prefers to have a funny, clever, playful air to him. But now all emotions have drained away. Even the physical pain has died down to just an annoying irritation.
Last time Kepp felt this numb, his father had chosen his brother over him. In return, he had joined Revera and evil. Now he vents through his sword, cutting and slashing like a blank minded madman.
He lost his bow days ago, it’s probably snapped and lying in the snow somewhere. But right now, he’s actually grateful for that. He can feel as his sword cuts into skin. Slicing through to the bone. Taking the life of these creatures.
And it feels rather consolatory.
Adriel kept her promise. She lies beside Awyn on the bed, her gentle rhythm of breath soothing her. But Awyn can’t sleep with someone in the room, although she would never tell her sister that.
She lies awake, eyes open, without the strain that fatigue brings. In fact, she’s rather restless, but she doesn’t move, in order not to wake her sister.
Outside, she can hear the fighting. The sound of swords clashing far beneath, the cries, yells, and shouts. Pain. She can hear the pain.
The blizzard pounds against her closed window, and the filtered sounds of the battle pierce through the drawn red drapes.
Awyn turns on her back. She tangles her hand in her hair, playing with the curls absentmindedly as she watches the candlelight dance across the emerald wall.
Nothing changes. Nothing really happens. But she knows there’s an unwanted presence. Not takin
g her eyes off the ceiling, she ignores the icy glare. When the silence becomes too formidable, she sighs.
“I suppose you used your magic to make Adriel sleep so soundly,” Awyn says in a normal voice. She doesn’t need to whisper.
“You were always smart.”
Awyn winces in annoyance, sitting up, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.
“How else could one sleep through that?” She speaks of the battle outside. “Now, would you please tell me why you’re here?”
Revera’s familiar crimson half-smirk, half-smile slinks across her face. She stands, walking farther into the room, away from her seat at the window.
“Honestly I don’t fancy the cries any more than you do.” She looks at Awyn, her glare wicked. “But I love the blood. How else do you think I achieve this color?” She bites her lip, her mocking joke not amusing.
Awyn lifts her chin slightly. “Well, I certainly don’t do it with blood. I have you to thank for this crimson smile.” Her expression feels grim and her disdain clearly amuses Revera.
“Ah, I’ve missed us. Our witty banter, the threats. Oh, it just warms my heart.”
Her mocking tone disgusts Awyn.
“Funny. There should be nothing to miss since we have our little ‘talks’ most nights,” Awyn spits, her fingers curling around metal under her pillow, and she slides out of bed to stand.
“Hmm, well I suppose you are right. I should blame it on my parents. They didn’t give me much attention as an elfling, I always came second to your lovely mother. I was alone often.”
Inches away from each other now, Awyn does not falter as Revera pierces her gaze with her own.
“So, our little spiels keep me from going insane. Loneliness can kill.”
Those last three words are barely audible to Awyn, but her overpronunciation made her tongue curl.
“So can being locked up for nine years.” Awyn jabs the dagger into Revera’s stomach. The sorceress wrenches forward, eyes wide. Awyn steps back, just far enough to see blood drop onto the floor. The stain on Revera’s dress grows, her hands covering it as the blood seeps through. In the darkness, it looks black.