Shaye catapulted from the bed: Brina. Shaye ran to her, stopping short as the guards blocked her way. She looked pleadingly at Bastian and he signaled to the guards to let her pass. Shaye shoved them further aside, embracing the girl whom she had grown up with after her aunt and uncle had been slaughtered in the coup. Brina was breathing heavily and had a small cut on her lip from where she had been struck. Anger boiled inside of Shaye, overpowering the fog in her mind.
Bastian spoke as if sensing Shaye’s fury, “From what my men tell me, she put up quite a fight on the way here.”
Shaye turned on him, she could feel her magic pooling at her fingertips, begging for release. Brina cried out when she caught sight of Shaye’s hands; she pulled back from Shaye’s embrace. “Shaye, what have you done?”
The panic in her best friend’s voice broke through Shaye’s anger toward Bastian, but she ignored the question, turning back to the man who was now sitting casually in an armchair, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Why is she here Bastian? I’ve already given in, you know that.”
“She’s here as a simple gesture of good faith. A gift for your help; she is to be your lady-in-waiting on our journey to the Eastern Isles.” He picked at his nails, not bothering to look up at the two horror-stricken girls standing before him. “And, if it helps to motivate you, to serve as a reminder of how merciful I can be and what is at stake should you fight against me... then all the better.”
Shaye felt like her stomach was full of bricks. She couldn’t stand the sight of him or the elaborately decorated war tent, with its obnoxious rugs and gilded vases. It was all a pretense, a show to distract from what this really was—what he really was. She pushed away the murderous thoughts she was feeling toward Bastian as she looked at her friend standing terrified between the guards. She needed to keep Brina safe, it was all that mattered right now.
Bastian smiled that all knowing smile; he knew he had won this round. He rose to leave, “Enjoy your reunion. After breakfast you will report to the general’s tent. We have a trip to plan.”
As soon as Bastian and the guards were gone, Shaye grabbed Brina by the arm; she ignored the way Brina flinched at her touch. Shaye pulled her over to the velvet settee, throwing its beaded, burgundy pillows to the ground. There were so many questions Shaye wanted to ask, but she started with, “Rolland and Rebecca —?”
“They’re fine. I...” Brina let out a frustrated breath, trying to regain her composure. “I was on my way to Norbrach.”
Shaye was puzzled. “Norbrach? Why would you go there?”
“Shaye, you were gone too long. When you did not send word, I started to get nervous. And then the rumors around the port began to pour in. They said there were dark magic users in the North, and that they were the ones causing the blight. I wanted to find you, to... I don’t know, to warn you. Or to make sure you were alright?” She was breathing heavily again, and stood, swiping the untouched cup and plate of breakfast the guards had brought Shaye from the table.
The food scattered across the ground, the dark liquid from the cup poured onto the carpet. Shaye felt a little bit of pleasure at the sight of the mess, in this room that Bastian had so carefully curated for her. It was a small defiance, but a defiance all the same.
“Brina, is that where they grabbed you?”
“They came out of nowhere. Like Wraiths in the night. I fought them Shaye, I fought like hell.” She laughed bitterly, gesturing to the tent. “Lotta good that did me.”
“Brina, listen to me carefully. Sorin is coming. I know he is, we just have to stay safe until then; I need to stay in line.”
“Look at yourself. Look at what he’s doing to you. You look like you haven’t eaten or slept in weeks, and your hands... By The Mother, your hands, Shaye.”
Shaye looked down at the darkness that now marked her, a lifelong reminder of her shame. There was no way she could ever forgive herself for what she had done to Sorin and her friends. “Brina, I think Bastian is using his magic to manipulate me somehow. I—I get lost in this fog, it consumes me when I’m near him. It’s like my own mind is betraying me... Turning Sorin and the people I care about into enemies.” Angry tears streamed down her face and onto her lap, leaving droplets on her silk nightgown. “I’m afraid of what I might do—of what he might make me do.”
She couldn’t believe she had gotten herself into this mess. She was not the girl who allowed men to manipulate her. She was a fighter. She had survived a massacre, had paved her way in the world with her wit and her fists... But now, here she was, subjected to the whims of a madman.
“I’m here with you now. We will not let that son of a bitch win. I’ll play my part, be the dutiful lady’s maid, and I’ll stay with you. Always.” Brina grabbed Shaye’s hands now, gripping them tightly.
Shaye was comforted by her friend’s words, but she still chided herself for her foolishness. When Bastian had shown up at the palace, she had been so desperate to have someone who could understand her. She had thought that he would be the answer to all their problems. He had helped her tap into her magic, and she had thought that he wanted the same things as she did... But through it all, she had ultimately lost herself.
Shaye and Brina together for a while, hand in hand, as they had done so many times when they were young girls and Shaye had woken from a nightmare; the only problem was that this time, the nightmare never seemed to end.
Later, Bastian sent two Nefari guards to escort her to the generals’ tent; too busy wreaking havoc to do it himself, she supposed. The camp was filled to the brim with Nefari, all looking at her as if she were a prized pig on her way to slaughter.
The tents seemed to be never ending, neat little rows of tanned canvas atop of the hill, overlooking a valley where a hunting village resided. An Orc with a particularly nasty grin winked at her as she passed. His fangs protruded from his mouth and a foul smell filled Shaye’s nose. He wasn’t the only magical creature in the Nefari ranks; she spotted Naga, Wraiths, Fenrir, and other fearsome beasts in the crowd. Sorin would find that he was fiercely outnumbered, and Shaye determined she would need to get word to him somehow.
A crow cawed from above her, flying in the direction that she and the guards walked. She wondered if it was the same crow from the abandoned camp, the one that had witnessed her fiery attack on her friends. One of the guards noticed her lingering and shoved her roughly.
The guards were an ugly pair, identical with their brassy red hair and scarred faces. Even the scars seemed to mimic each other. Their hands were what worried her the most—like all Nefari, they sported the mark of their dark magic. But on the twin brothers, the black ran from the tips of their fingers to their palms, proving that they had used more than just a little of the blood magic. Almost as much as Bastian had, with his stretching down to his wrists in inky tendrils.
She gave one of them a sideways glance, wondering if she could take them both in a fight, but one of the brothers caught her eye. His voice was gravelly as he said, “Don’t even think about it.” Fire sparked at his fingertips in warning and Shaye clenched her jaw in frustration.
They arrived at a large tent, not as large as the one she was residing in, but obvious in its importance. When she made her way inside, she was surprised by the group of men who bowed deeply to her. She looked to Bastian in confusion, but he ignored her; he continued speaking to the man beside him. A human man, Shaye realized with a start, one that she recognized from her childhood: Duke Brayham.
He had aged horribly. His fat rosy cheeks sagged, and he sported only a few awkward wisps of hair on his head. Bastian was speaking to him in an angry, hushed tone, reminding her faintly of when they were children and had watched Bastian’s father arguing with the duke before the Winter Solstice. Bastian slammed a fist on the table, causing everyone in the room to cower. Everyone except for Shaye, who continued to stand tall with her stubborn chin held high.
Duke Brayham balked, “I assure you, sire, that is where the relic is being kept
. My sources say—”
Bastian gritted his teeth, “Damn your sources to The Beyond. Why would I trust humans to do such a task?” He beckoned for someone to come forward. Shaye was surprised to see a Ceasg answer his call. The woman had an unearthly quality to her, much like Ingemar, with shimmering, golden scales glittering along her tanned arms and neck. Unlike Shaye’s friend, however, her hair was shaved in a military style, and she was dressed modestly in a green cloak, much like the ones the Nefari guards wore.
“Yes, sire?” She bowed to him.
Shaye’s jaw twitched at the respect Bastian was receiving. So he thinks himself a king amongst these people. She was disgusted by the sight of it.
Bastian looked at her as if she had spoken the words out loud, but said nothing. Instead, he addressed the Ceasg, “Signe, you will accompany us on our journey. I wish you to lead us to the Sword of Roth.” At those words, the tent lit up in a golden light. When it ebbed away, a bronze, shimmering dust was left in its wake. Shaye realized then, that he was Signe’s master—that he was the master of them all. Not only was he Nefari, but he was the Nefari leader.
Once they had mapped out the route to the relic, to the Sword of Roth, Bastian dismissed his generals. They bowed to him, and then to Shaye, as they took their leave.
Shaye was too stunned to speak right away, so Bastian helped himself, “Useless beasts, the lot of them. Thank the Fates I was able to capture several Ceasg to get the important work done.” He sat, and motioned for Shaye to do the same. With a snap of his fingers, a human girl appeared from outside the tent. Her hands shook as she brought them two dinner plates and glasses to match. Anger surged through Shaye. He was kidnapping humans to act as servants to the dark Magi in his army. What else he was subjecting them to, she didn’t want to imagine.
“Sit. Eat.” He gestured to the plate sitting on top of the maps and papers littering the desk. Shaye obeyed, taking a few bites of the figs on her plate warily. He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her. She took it reluctantly, noticing how it shimmered, unlike his own.
Bastian sat back casually, but there was malice in the way he looked at her. “I can feel you pulling away from me, you know. A shame, I thought we had come to an understanding this morning when I gave you such a touching gift.”
She knew he was referring to Brina; this was a threat, a test of her allegiance to him. She crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke, “How can I be expected to trust you when you are playing with my mind?”
“I am only helping you to move past your silly feelings for that group of imbeciles.”
“You do not need to read my thoughts and manipulate me to do so.”
Bastian growled, “Don’t I?” He motioned to the glass in front of her. “Drink.”
She had no choice but to do as he directed. She downed the bitter liquid to the last drop, then slammed the glass on the table. Her throat burned in its wake, but she didn’t let it show. She could not afford to show weakness when it came to Bastian.
He eyed her like a hawk, waiting for the warm liquid to settle in her stomach, before speaking again. “For this to work, I need you to use your full power. What we do here over the next few weeks will change the course of Asterion. Our people will finally take their rightful place. We were meant to rule, not to serve.”
Shaye stared down at the knife beside Bastian’s plate. It shined like a beacon of her salvation. She imagined what it would be like to stick the knife in the side of his neck. He cleared his throat, interrupting her daydream. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. She wanted to demand that he stop this insane quest of his to conquer Asterion through dark magic, but she was having trouble finding the words that had been in her mind moments ago; every time she tried to speak, the words turned to ash on her tongue.
She looked down at her empty cup, there wasn’t a drop left in the clear crystal glass. She wished she hadn’t drunk it, that she had found another way to keep Bastian from thinking he needed to use his shadow abilities to control her mind. Shaye looked up at Bastian accusingly, “What—”
“Oh that? It was just a little something to relax you.” He finished his own drink, the red liquid wet on his lips, like blood. Shaye shook her head, trying to snap out of the daze he had put her in.
“You don’t need to drug me to get me to do as you say, Bastian.” The room was growing dark, though it was midafternoon. Her breath was catching in her throat as she started to panic. Bastian made no move to help her; instead he sat by with those dark pools for eyes.
“Bass, please...” The last thing she saw was the vindictive smile on his face, as she drifted off into the void again.
She awoke later in her tent—the sky showing through the open flap at the entrance was pitch dark. She must have been out for hours; how had she lost an entire day?
“Here, drink this.” There was a woman at her side, handing her a wooden cup. Shaye swatted it away.
“No, no more of that drink, please.”
“It’s me. It’s Brina, and this is just water, I swear it, look.” Brina took a small sip from the cup to prove to Shaye that there was no danger. She accepted the drink then; her mouth was dry, and her head was pounding.
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Brina’s eyes were filled with dark concern.
Shaye shook her head. All she could recall was eating in the general’s tent with Bastian. She remembered the bitter drink he had given her and the darkness that seemed to keep swallowing her whole.
“Shaye, they executed a Magi today. He was accused of being one of King Allerick’s sympathizers, all because the man had chosen to stay after the uprising and become a member of the Trade Guild.”
Shaye sat up—there was no crime in that, in adapting to the new reign and to a world without magic. The Magi who had remained in Asterion after the death of the old king had had to move on, they had no choice. It wasn’t like it had been easy on them, either; they faced disdain and mistrust from the humans they lived amongst.
Brina shared the sentiment, “They are weeding out expendable Magi, the ones who did not fight against King Allerick’s rule. They’re using them to frighten any remaining Magi into pledging their allegiance to Bastian and the Nefari... You really don’t remember any of this?”
“No, I... I must have passed out after he drugged me. I don’t remember anything between lunch and waking here with you.”
Brina shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “Shaye, you were very much awake. You were there by Bastian’s side as he made his judgment and bled the Magi dry.”
“No.” The word came as no more than a whisper, and she racked her brain trying to remember the events of the day. She would never have stood by for something like that. “Brina,” her voice cracked, she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “He’s doing something to me... changing me. I try to fight him, but I don’t know if I have the strength.”
Brina cupped Shaye’s face in her hands. “I don’t know anyone stronger than you, Shaye. You are not alone in this, we will fight him together.”
They fell asleep that night, side by side on Shaye’s luxurious bed. As much as she hated Brina’s being stuck in the midst of the danger, she was glad for the familiar presence. She stared up at the rough canvas ceiling, watching shadows dance from the lantern light.
She had spent the last few hours trying to remember the events from the day. Not even a hint of memory was left behind—something she supposed she should be thankful for. The idea of taking part in such a heinous execution turned her stomach. She knew she needed to rest, to keep her strength for what awaited her in the morning, but she was afraid to close her eyes. The thought of what she would find in the darkness of her dreams terrified her.
Chapter Four
Shaye
The Nefari camp was bustling with excitement, and Shaye could feel the buzz of their magic alive in the warm morning air. They were nearing the summer season and the sun had been relentless over
the last few days. She watched a small group of Nefari packing supplies for their voyage across the Living Sea.
Over the last week, Bastian had paraded Shaye around the camp, making grand speeches to his Nefari followers. He spent his days promising them the wealth and power that the Magi had enjoyed before King Allerick had taken his place on the throne—a throne that he had taken by the blood and tears of their people. Shaye could not blame the Nefari for taking so easily to his words. They roared in response to everything he said, hungry for what he was offering them.
Through it all, Shaye stood obediently by his side. The few times she had tried to disobey him, Bastian had presented her with the glittering red liquid, watching her drink every last drop. He had taken to giving her a weaker version of the potion than he had that first day. There were no more black outs; but, after each drink, she would spend the rest of the day in a fog, trailing along with him like a ghost. Nefari bowed to her as she passed, treating her like she was the queen to Bastian’s king.
Shaye realized it was easier to play that part than to lose all control to the potion he would drug her with—even if it meant feeling like a traitor to Sorin and her friends. At the end of each day, Shaye would return to her quarters where Brina waited anxiously for her. They would eat and sleep in silence, with the ugliness of the day looming between them, then they would do it all over again the following day.
Shaye had also begun to practice placing a shield in her mind. It was not strong enough to fight against the magic in the potions, but the more she practiced, the more she was able to keep Bastian from her thoughts. Whenever he was able to slip into her mind, she was careful to focus on warm feelings toward him, however false those feelings might be.
“The ship is ready.” Gorm, one of the red-headed twins, was waiting for her outside of her tent. He had forgone his cloak to sport clothes better for sailing. His large, muscled frame was visible now, without the bulk of the cloak to cover him. He was a mean-looking man, sneering at Shaye through a scar-covered face. She thought perhaps he had been handsome at one time in his life, before he had let hate overtake him.
A Legacy of Nightmares Page 3