by Kala Merseal
“Earlier, what did you want to tell me?”
Hesitantly, Ara slid her hand from his grasp. His eyes narrowed, expression darkening, as Ara sighed.
“I wanted to apologize to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I misjudged you, ever since I first met you,” Ara said. “I judged you as someone greedy for power. You excelled too quickly in the ranks and my father took interest in you. My friends at court remarked about it and made jokes and I played along, because secretly I was jealous. My father always was fascinated with those who had talent, especially in the arcane. You became akin to a son to him and I never was the talented daughter he wanted.”
Raethin began to retort but she held up her hand.
“Don’t misunderstand,” Ara continued. “I know my father loved me. He was overprotective and thought about my safety in circumstances I never did.” Her throat thickened. “He gave me you.”
Ara swallowed. “You, who fought for me to live, who had no idea if we were going to be saved or if fighting was futile. You don’t understand what that means for me.”
Raethin went slack. His hands fell to his side. His expression softened, going blank. His lips pursed as she ran a hand over her face.
“I lost everyone and you—and Max, Arlow and Nyphelia—you all are the only people I have left. They know how I feel but you do not. And I wanted to tell you as soon as I could.” Ara squared her shoulders and boldly met his eyes. “I’m not sure what you are to me or what I am to you but that doesn’t matter. All I care about is that we can call each other friends. That it is true when you say that we are family. That you can rely on me as I have to you. I hope to one day repay my debt to you.”
“There is no debt, Ara.” His hands clenched at his sides. “And you can call us friends. It is true that we are family. We are all we have. It’s not a debt because of that.”
Slowly Ara nodded, soaking in his words. She swiped at her eyes again.
“Good,” she breathed.
A moment drew out between them as tension settled.
Then she asked, “Don’t you have a meeting with Cirith?”
“I do.”
“Go on then,” Ara said, waving him off. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sure.” Raethin nodded and watched as the princess turned on her feet and left for the visitor’s quarter.
After a moment, he headed back toward the council chamber, mulling over her words carefully and silently.
Chapter Nineteen
For the next week, Raethin spent most of his time training with Cirith. The Guardian functioned mostly in night, his sessions ranging from early evening to early morning. Within the first few days, Raethin had discovered how to access the part of him where the Great Spirit dwelt; deep in his soul, at the bottom of the well from which his energy sourced. It slumbered, completely unaffected at his attempts to awaken it.
But Raethin learned other things; for instance, just because the Great Spirit wasn’t awakened didn’t mean he couldn’t harness some of its powers. He found that he had newfound strength and senses far behind the levels he had before. The well from which he withdrew his energy was deeper. Its depths went on for miles compared to its length before. But he found that the elements he previously specialized in had warped into something different. Light and blazing fire brimming with a resilience that it had not before. Where Cirith’s elements were earth-based and cooling, Raethin’s was of the harshest, heats, blazing, blinding, and airy.
“Maybe a god of light,” Cirith muttered during one session. They continued to guess who Raethin’s patron was. He rattled off a few gods’ names, but nothing brought a sense of familiarity. He knew them from his religious endeavors but Cirith said there would be a resonance when he recognized his patron god.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Raethin said. “For now, we will harness what we have to work with.”
When he was not with Cirith, Raethin observed Ara’s training. After the first two days of his presence, she became used to him and practiced as if he were not. In fact, he noticed that any time that he was near her, Ara avoided him.
She might have been embarrassed from her confession. Ache shown in her eyes sometimes when he caught her staring at him. Often, she would turn away.
But they were friends. At times she would speak to him, always avoiding the more sentimental topics. He began teaching her offensive tricks after Vilithian was satisfied with her shielding technique. Her defensive magick was not strong by any means but it held under pressure. It would buy her time to run, Vilithian had told him. After her training, Raethin would walk her to the guests’ quarters then swing back around for training with Cirith.
Hours after midnight, Raethin often found himself wandering around the keep after his sessions with the Guardian. He learned quickly after waking that sleep evaded him for most hours. He could only fall asleep for a few hours at a time and then he would be up for nearly a whole day before he was ready to pass out again.
“It’s the Spirit,” Cirith had said after Raethin mentioned it to him. “I sleep less as well. You are not sick, I promise you. It is a well of energy, so it provides for some things your mortal body lacks.”
“Wouldn’t I sleep longer then when I do? It makes sense to stay up longer and sleep more at one time. But instead, I sleep less and stay up longer.”
Cirith shrugged, half-interested in the conversation. It was not a topic about magick really and had nothing to do with the gods or druids. Raethin often found that Cirith disinterested by a lot of topics. He was not a great conversationalist despite having such a commanding presence.
When the week had passed, the elders, Cirith, and Raethin gathered in the council chamber.
“Since you haven’t been able to wake up that Spirit,” Misandreas said, barely hiding her disappointment and anxiety. “Then we must resort to our last method.”
“I’ve been waiting for this for weeks now.” Solas crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “The demons are still lurking. It would be so easy to grab one of them.”
“We have to be discrete,” Raethin said. He disapproved of Solas’ eagerness for violence but they were right. It had to be done. “The Kaevari are quick to cloister together. If we are not careful, they may all come down on us at once. The whole point of capturing one is to have an advantage over them—not to be led into a trap.”
“What if that is what they are expecting?” Misandreas tossed the thought of doubt for the others to mull over.
“What if Aeskrius was expecting this?”
“He may bet on it,” Cirith muttered. He had thought of this, of course. But he knew now that he had another Great Spirit on his side that they would be able to fight against them.
They would need a team to go out. The most elite of their warriors, along with Solas, Cirith, and Raethin.
“We will have to be quick.”
“When will we do this?” Misandreas asked.
“Tonight.” Raethin’s eyes flashed as he nodded with
Cirith and continued. “It will have to be in mere minutes that we grab the demon.”
“And where do we take it?” Solas asked. His harsh attitude toward Raethin had lessened over the days. After realizing that they were alike to a certain ability, Solas had taken to Raethin like he had with Cirith. “We can’t take it within the ward.”
“There are a set of caverns in the lower levels of the keep,” Cirith said. “Underneath the foundations within the valleys. There we can take it. It is within the boundaries but far from our people. Then we will kill it.”
The elders mulled over, still skeptical. Then Vilithian nodded, satisfied.
“We will strike in early morning, an hour or two before dawn,” the eldest said. “In this way, we can ensure that if we are caught up that they are on limited time.”
They all agreed and adjourned. As Raethin left the council chamber, Cirith fell in-step beside him.
“Don’t tell Ara wh
at you’re doing tonight.”
Raethin glanced at the Guardian and frowned.
“She will stay awake and worry about you.” Cirith continued, catching the question in Raethin’s look.
“The other day you told me that she was stronger than that,” Raethin retorted, agitated. “You said that I could trust her with the harsher realities.”
“Do you think you should tell her then?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it,” Cirith snapped. “But know that this will deepen her remorse over your sacrifices.”
Later that day, Raethin found Ara sitting in the training chamber. She sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the dome, glass ceiling shifting daylight across her as she meditated.
Ara turned when she heard footsteps.
“I was expecting Vilithian,” she said with a frown as
Raethin sat across from her in the elder’s usual spot.
“He’s coming shortly.”
“Okay…” Ara eyed him. “Then what’s going on?”
Raethin hesitated.
“Well?”
He rubbed his jaw and sighed.
“Tonight, I’ll be participating in a scouting trip,” Raethin said, picking his words carefully. “So, this may be the last day of training for you for a few days.”
“Oh.” Ara grimaced. “Why is that? Where are you going?”
“We’re—” Raethin huffed. There were no other ways around the topic now that he brought it to her. “We’re capturing a demon.”
“Why?” Ara stiffened in shock. “Why in the seven hells would you do that?”
“The demons have all but trapped us in here, Ara. If they somehow find a way in, then it will be Verisca all over again. We must have an advantage over them, and we don’t know enough about them to do that. We’re almost out of options to protect ourselves and if that means kidnapping and torturing a demon to find out their weaknesses then we must.”
“What if it gets loose? What if it finds out weaknesses in us before you find it in them? What then?”
“That won’t happen.”
“But what if it does?”
“We’ll kill it.” He crossed his arms. “We’ll kill it anyway.”
“I don’t like this.” Ara stood and smoothed her skirt. “This will make us vulnerable.”
“We already are.” Raethin followed her as she fled the training room. She rushed down the stairs and into the foyer, where they ran into the elders as they muttered to one another.
Misandreas eyed the pair and then turned to Vilithian.
“We can have training another day, Ara,” Vilithian said. “For now, go rest.”
“Raethin told me what you’re doing tonight. Why have you decided to take this route? What if something goes wrong?” Ara crossed her arms and she shot an accusatory glare across the elders then settled on Raethin. “Haven’t we fought enough for a while? We are safe within the ward. We can stay here and wait them out.”
“We are not. Any day could be the last day this ward stands.” Raethin met her glare with insistence. “Do you not remember what Cirith said? All it takes is blood of a stronger god to dissolve the ward. We do not even know if this Aeskrius holds that power. Any minute that he realizes that is the minute we lose our defenses.”
Ara’s words stuck in her throat. She glanced across the surrounding elders, their gazes pitying but determined.
“But—” her last argument she held on her tongue. Swallowing, Ara sighed and muttered, “I wish you wouldn’t go seeking danger.”
“You worry too much.” Raethin crossed his arms. “That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. But then I imagined what you would do when you found out about it after the fact and decided this was the lesser of two evils.”
Ara glared at him, her lips pursing.
“Fine. Do what you want.” She flipped her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be in my quarters.”
She turned and headed out the door.
Raethin called out to her, “We’ll be back in the morning.”
“Sure.” Her glare cut into him as she threw a look over her shoulders. “No need to concern me with what you do.
I’ll just wait to hear how awfully wrong it went afterward.”
“Fine.”
When she left, the druids gave Raethin a look.
“What?” He grimaced. “Like I said, I would’ve gotten more hell after the fact.”
“It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Misandreas muttered. She shook her head and left them, heading up to her own quarters. Solas split from them without a word, heading outside and toward the barracks.
Vilithian bowed and said, “We’ll see you after midnight.”
Raethin sighed as the last elder left, unsure what to do.
Then he remembered Cirith mentioning the caverns down below and went to seek the Guardian.
He found him sitting at the head of the council’s table, leaning back in the chair with eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head.
Cirith peeked a golden eye at Raethin as he approached.
“You told her, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did.” Raethin sat in a chair by him. “She would’ve bit my head off if I told her after the fact.”
“Fine. As long as she doesn’t get in the way.” Cirith dropped his arms and yawned. “What is it?”
“Let us scout the cavern you spoke about for tonight,” Raethin suggested. “I have nothing else to do for the rest of the day and I would feel better if I knew where we were going and how we were going to get the demon there.”
“Fine.” Cirith stood, stretching his back. “I too have nothing better to do. I’ll show you where it is.”
♦♦♦
An hour or two after midnight, a scout found Raethin in the guests’ lounge, reading a history text. Luckily, he had managed to convince Ara to lie down before the late night. Raethin rushed to the front gates, ready to get over with the stupid mission. Two towers stood on either side, dim lights illuminating warriors through the tower windows. The druids watched as their elders, Cirith, and Raethin met, armored with dark leathers that blended with the night.
Beside Solas stood three scouts clad in the same dark leathers. They shifted nervously, waiting for the inevitable venture outside their protection.
Vilithian and Misandreas were the only two druids within the group without armor, their pale robes starched against the dark.
“If you’re not down in that cave within the hour,” the lily-eyed elder groused. “Then I’m going to come out there and hunt you down.”
“We’ll be fine,” Solas snapped. “We scared them off last time and that was just with one Great Spirit. Now we have two.”
Misandreas rolled her eyes and waved them off.
The group crossed the bridge, their breaths steady and footsteps quiet. When they approached the ward, they paused, eying Cirith as he moved out in front of the others.
“When we go over, we are silent,” Cirith instructed.
“We will sweep out and grab the first demon we see. According to our reports, they cloister together two or three at a time. We must remain close to the gate, so we have a quick escape. Two scouts will stay behind waiting for us within the ward.”
Raethin wondered if the demons could hear through the ward, despite not being able to see through it. To them, the mirage of the Forest masked the fortress, and it misdirected them around its boundaries. Cirith had told him that the moment that it was visible to outsiders was when something passed through the barrier.
They stilled, watching for movement on the outside. Then slowly, Cirith pushed through the ward, stilling when his body reached the other side. It had warped around him, like water separating. When there were no movements within the forest, Cirith beckoned for the next person.
Raethin was the last to leave the ward, his movements just as quiet and deliberate as the others.
Cirith motioned for them to follow as he moved alo
ng the length of the ward. Having been inside, Raethin was able to see the shimmering surface. It warped his sight, shifting briefly when moonlight cut through the trees. As they inched along, their ears strained for any noise.
They shifted between the protection of bushes, creeping along the forest’s floor as they searched for demons. Cirith had said that according to the last scout report, the closest pair of demons were ten yards from the bridge’s entrance. The scouts handed that report to the Guardian right before Raethin arrived, so it was as exact as it could be.
Cirith and Raethin turned out their senses, feeling for any shifting dark energy.
Raethin halted. They had gone a few yards away from the ward and within those matters of minutes, he felt the shift in the air.
Cirith froze and the others followed suit quickly afterward. They held their halted poses as their hearing stretched for any rustling in the bushes or trees.
But Raethin and Cirith smelled the demons before they heard them moving. Two of them, on either side of their group, eying from the trees.
Raethin glanced up and caught the blazing crimson eyes of one of them. It poked out from the branches, slim and feminine. She tilted her head, confused and apprehensive.
The other dropped to the forest floor, its taloned feet anchoring to the ground. Masculine, its shoulders were broad and stiff as it stood, tense and ready to attack.
The druids dropped down in a crouch. Solas held his crystalline sword, which already misted with his druidic energy. The scout held an arrow taut against his bow, its point aimed at the demon’s heart.
The other demon slithered out from the branches, crawling down the tree’s trunk. She eyed Raethin, her nose scrunched as she sniffed.
“He rejected the Void’s gift,” she hissed, her silky voice filled with disgust.
Her partner tilted his head as he too sniffed the air.
His black lips pulled over his teeth in a sneer.
“He scents of the Heir.”
Raethin and Cirith knew from the earlier encounters that the demons liked to stall by talking. Shadows shifted around them and the two Spirits knew that they were sending notices to the other demons in the area.