A Legacy of Nightmares

by J. M. Wallace

  “Let’s not keep your commander waiting then.” Shaye pulled a black hood over her head, covering her braided hair. Brina appeared at her side, dressed for a long journey in the same breeches and canvas doublet that Shaye wore.

  “He’s your commander too, Druid. Don’t forget that.” Gorm spat on the ground and nodded for them to start walking.

  It would be a day’s ride on horseback to the coast, where they would then hop a ship, sailing to the Eastern Isles. Gorm helped Brina to her horse, then moved to help Shaye. Not needing, or wanting, his help, she shrugged him off and mounted the white horse Bastian had gifted her with a few days before. He was a beautiful beast, but sitting atop his wide back brought a pang to her heart. She missed Finn, her loyal gelding, with his long silky mane. She hoped with all her heart that he was safe with Sorin. Sorin, take care of my boy, she thought quietly to herself, trying to keep the tears from starting again.

  Sorin visited her thoughts often throughout her time with the Nefari. She was glad that he could not see her now, subjected to Bastian’s whims. It was only on days when Bastian forced her to ingest the potion that she was unable to keep her thoughts straight enough to remember how much she cared for Sorin. Once the magic of the drink faded in the evenings, she would cry from the pain that accompanied her thoughts of Sorin and their friends, knowing they were out there without her.

  She prayed to The Mother that they knew how sorry she was for what she had done. Hatred had flooded every one of her senses in the abandoned camp. She hadn’t been able to stop the fiery magic that had risen from deep within her. It had erupted in a blast of dark magic, taking a piece of her soul in the process. She looked down at her hands, and the black leather gloves she wore to cover them, and her shame.

  Six more Nefari joined them, riding to the coast where they would meet their master. Brina stayed close to Shaye—she had promised that she would not leave her side as they journeyed through the Living Sea. It had been a long time since Shaye had been on the water, and she was surprised at how much she missed it.

  The smell of the salty air greeted her like an old friend as they rounded the hill toward the coast. She thought of the smuggler captain she had worked for before all of this began. She wished she had been able to get word to him and the crew, to warn them of what brewed so close to where they were docked. Captain Thorsten and his crew were survivors, though, and Shaye felt confident in their ability to sense anything amiss—to get themselves to safety before it was too late.

  In the distance she could see the tall, dark masts of the ship that was to take them east. An obedient crew bustled on board, preparing them to set sail. Bastian was waiting for Shaye and the others on the deck in all his splendor. He was wearing a magnificent waistcoat—black, with the golden embroidery he seemed to like so much. It was an expensive jacket, and Shaye found herself wondering where he had gotten the coin to pay for it. He probably forced some poor human into making it for him. Shaye was disgusted at the thought.

  They wasted no time, settling the horses below deck with the human servants they had brought with them. Shaye was relieved that Bastian had agreed to allow Brina to stay with her above deck—even if it was only so he could use the threat of her safety to his advantage, should Shaye decide to resist him again. There had been no glittering drink this morning and she was feeling clear headed. Another thing she was grateful for.

  “Are you nervous?” Bastian slid beside Shaye, resting his arm on the smooth wood of the ship’s side. They were alone on the quarterdeck, save for Brina who lingered nearby, keeping an eye on them both.

  Shaye took control of her thoughts, focusing on the glistening water below and not the disdain she felt at Bastian’s presence. When she didn’t answer, he slid closer and put one of his hands on hers. “You needn’t be. This will go exactly as I planned it: we will get the Sword, and with both it and the Stave you will power our army enough to destroy anything in our path.” There was genuine happiness on his slender face. Shaye studied him, wondering how she had missed the ugliness that resided behind that handsome smile.

  She felt sick to her stomach. As the last Druid of her line, she held the ability to amplify magic with the Stave of the first brother, Leto. They were on their way, now, to locate the relic of the second brother—a Sword, granted to him by The Mother, and powerful enough to cut through any shield or armor. By using the Stave to amplify the Sword’s power, Shaye would be arming Bastian’s entire Nefari army with the magic they needed to conquer Asterion.

  She had to come up with a plan to stop him, to stop herself from being forced into obedience when the time came. When she was around him, he had power over her thoughts—the same way he had pulled the dark magic from her in the clearing with Sorin and the others. Bastian was the living epitome of every bad thought she had ever had, every hateful thing she had wished on the king who had slaughtered her people during the Winter Solstice.

  Despite Bastian telling her that she didn’t need to be nervous, she was—mostly she was worried that she would feel that hatred rise within her again, or that when the time came, she would want to power his army. She could not forgive the pain her people had felt, or the prejudice she had witnessed firsthand in the towns against the Magi, who had never harmed anyone, even when they still had their magic. Bastian knew it—he knew what was hiding deep within her soul, and he had the power to exploit it.

  The ship’s captain shouted something to the crew, cutting through her thoughts. There was a jolt as they set sail toward the endless horizon. Bastian whistled, meeting her eyes, “May The Mother guide us.”

  Shaye ignored the urge to give him a vulgar gesture before she left to join Brina on the other side of the deck. The girls made their leave to find some way to occupy their time. It would be days before they reached the small islands to the east, near Sagon. She had never been there, but she knew people who had. According to them, the waters could be dangerous, filled with magical creatures who lurked beneath the surface, waiting for vulnerable sailors to pass by.

  She shivered at the memory of the blight she had passed through while on her way to Asterion. It had been several weeks since she had made that voyage home, but the memory of the dense, black fog laying on the water, filled with the screams of the sailors it had claimed, still lingered in her mind. Of course, now, she was sailing with the monster who had created the fog; Bastian had been behind all of it. She had just been too blinded by their shared past to see it.

  Two sailors began arguing over a game of cards, drawing a crowd of laughing men around them. Brina nudged Shaye, “Wanna play?”

  “Nah, I’m not in the mood.”

  Brina put a hand to her heart, feigning surprise. “The Shaye Wistari, world-renowned gambler, doesn’t want to play cards? I am shocked.” A laugh died in her throat when she looked at Shaye’s solemn face.

  Shaye turned her face away from Brina and back to the horizon. She knew she looked like hell. There were dark circles around her once vibrant golden eyes, which were now dulled like unpolished brass, and she’d lost weight. Bastian had given her a whole new wardrobe, in part, she knew, because he had wanted her in a style similar to his; but she also knew it was because her old clothes no longer fit her the same.

  Brina got the hint. “Okay, how about a story then? That always cheered you up when—”

  “When we were children and the nightmares only existed in my mind?”

  “Shaye, you need to keep faith. If not in yourself, then in Sorin. I have to believe that the same man who showed up in our barnyard begging you to help him, is doing everything he can to find you now.”

  “He said he saved me, you know. That night at the Winter Solstice ball when we were children. But when he finally told me, I didn’t believe him. Instead, I believed Bastian... I thought I knew him.” She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. The breeze pushed the hood off of her head, saltwater and tears stung her eyes. “I hurt Sorin. I hurt a man who believed in me. And in the process, I let the St
ave fall into the hands of a madman. I would not blame Sorin for hating me for what I did, and he is better off without me. There is no coming back from this, from what I’ve become.”

  Brina stood in silence for a long moment. Shaye knew Brina well enough to know that she was searching for the words to help her friend. Brina squeezed Shaye’s hand as she spoke, “You may not see it now, but we will find a way through this. And when it’s over, you will find a way to forgive yourself. You have to.”

  Shaye shook her head and watched the horizon, hoping with all her heart that her friend was right. “Where are you, Sorin?” The heavy wind blew wisps of her hair from her braid as she spoke. Shaye closed her eyes tight and wished for the wind to carry her words away, like a bird taking flight.

  Chapter Five

  Sorin

  It was dark when Sorin and the others reached the beach on the eastern coast of North Asterion, having traveled through the night to reach it as quickly as possible. Word had finally come from Ingemar’s friend. She was in the Nefari camp, reporting directly to the commander... Bastian. That bastard had been their leader from the start, and Sorin had let him under the same roof as the people he cared about.

  Bastian was the cause of the blight destroying the land, the man-eating fog that had taken Elijah, the monster attacks, all of it. Worst of all, he was using his dark magic on Shaye. He had been a step ahead of them the entire time.

  Not anymore. Their Ceasg spy in the camp had told them everything—Sorin and his team now knew the exact number and configuration of the Nefari army, the location of the camp, and what their next move was. They knew on good authority that Bastian was headed to an island in the east to track down the Sword, but Sorin would beat him to it. Bastian underestimated Sorin, and he planned to use that to his advantage for as long as he could.

  It had not taken long for him to find a crew to sail them to the Isles. Mavka found out about a group of smugglers from Sagon who had been stranded near Norbrach at the start of the blight; they had sailed up the coast when they noticed the trouble was spreading. Their captain, a man by the name of Thorsten, had been fruitlessly searching for a way across the Living Sea and back to their home port in Sagon.

  When Sorin had first made contact, the man had brushed him off, having no interest in a journey that wouldn’t benefit him or his crew. But when Mavka’s moths whispered in her ear, she had giggled, “But it will benefit your crew, Captain. Is Shaye Wistari not a member of it?” At the mention of Shaye, the entire crew had looked stunned. These had been the very people she had sailed with before returning home for the spring festival. Sorin had to believe that it was destiny that had brought them together.

  The crew had unanimously agreed to help Sorin, and now they found themselves nearing their destination, the Eastern Isles. In just a few hours, they would be within sight of the island that held their destiny. This could turn the tides in favor of Sorin’s army.

  “King Sorin.” Captain Thorsten, the pirate-turned-smuggler, stood in front of him in a ridiculously flamboyant waistcoat. It was a gaudy thing that didn’t quite match the scar on his cheek or the wild, thick, wavy hair at his shoulders. The captain wasn’t the sort of person Sorin had spent a lot of time with in the past, but he had to admit, the man had a pleasant temperament and even better rum.

  Captain Thorsten handed Sorin a dusty bottle and chuckled, “I was just thinking about the first time I met her. She was a wild thing, always up for a fight or a wager. When she came to us, it didn’t take any time before she was a part of our family.” He took the bottle from Sorin, pausing for a long drink. “But you know all about that, don’t you? How easy it is to be around her, to love her.”

  Sorin raised an eyebrow at the man who was old enough to be Shaye’s father. Thorsten laughed and took another swig of the rum. “Don’t worry, lad, I love her like I love the rest of ‘em.” He nodded toward his crew who were sitting on the deck, laughing and telling stories. “Now, Haskell there... him you might worry about. He does love the ladies, though Shaye was always too wise to fall for his games.”

  Sorin chuckled, trying to imagine the warrior-like man fruitlessly flirting with the woman whom Sorin had come to know so well. Meeting the crew had been interesting. Haskell was a Skagan through and through. He carried himself like a warrior and was massive in size, even compared to Bron. His long, braided beard and hair to match was a dead giveaway to his Skagan roots. Sorin had recognized him from the day at the spring festival—the man who Shaye had danced with in the town square. Sorin had a hard time imagining Shaye with someone like Haskell, though he was easy to get along with, as were the others.

  There were three more from their crew that had agreed to accompany their captain: Langley, a shy, gangly-looking man who they claimed was brilliant, even if he didn’t look like it. And Ylva, a gifted sorceress who owned a club back in Sagon, famous for its exotic Magi women. Then there was Runa, the youngest of their crew. She was a mousey little thing with short hair, cut like a boy’s.

  Captain Thorsten had vouched for each of them, promising that they were all capable of such a high-stakes mission, and Sorin had decided from the start that if Shaye trusted them, then he did, too.

  Laughter filled the air as Haskell taught Ingemar how to play blackjack. She was hesitant to be near Thorsten’s crew, still unable to let herself trust human men, aside from Sorin, Bron, and Anik. Sorin thought that at least Ylva’s presence was a comforting one for her—having another who wielded magic seemed to make Ingemar relax slightly.

  Sorin and Thorsten stood in the shadows on the deck. A warm breeze swept through, showing signs of a hot summer ahead of them. Sorin was eager to reach the Isles and be back on land. He had loved fishing as a boy, but preferred the steadiness of a dock to the sway of a ship’s deck.

  “Captain, when we reach the Isles, it’s imperative that we do this quietly. Our source in the Nefari camp tells us that Bastian knows the location of the second relic, so there is still the chance of a confrontation.” They were in a race to retrieve the Sword before Bastian could get his hands on it.

  Though Sorin did not relish the thought of going head-to-head with a group of Nefari, he secretly hoped that they would have a run in. He desperately wanted to see Shaye, and knowing how important she was to Bastian, Sorin was confident that he would not leave her behind. If Shaye was there, then they stood a chance of getting her back. He could bring her home and set things right.

  Captain Thorsten nodded, “My crew knows the importance of discretion, Your Majesty. And I can assure you, we are ready for a fight if it comes down to it.”

  Sorin was counting on it. He was grateful for the experienced captain. They sailed the rest of the way, passing rum around, playing cards, and telling stories about Shaye. Sorin loved hearing about this side of her. A small part of him hoped that when all of this was over, she would tell him her side of these tales herself. Just as she had done that night in the caves.

  Sorin excused himself from the others, wanting a moment alone. Finn found him, nuzzling his soft nose into Sorin’s side. The other horses were safely below deck, but Sorin didn’t have the heart to make Finn stay down there. The gelding had taken to Sorin over the last weeks and had whinnied when Sorin had ascended the steps to the upper deck. Overwhelmed, he had released Finn to wander the deck as the horse saw fit. He knew the loyal steed missed Shaye as much as he did, and somehow it made Sorin feel less alone.

  Patting Finn’s head, he looked out over the deck of the ship. The waters were quiet; normally Sorin would have been glad of it, but something seemed off about it. The others must have sensed it as well. Ylva and Ingemar appeared at his side, and the two Magi women wasted no time extending their magic out onto the water. Ylva’s shimmering magic intertwined with Ingemar’s golden dust. If Sorin hadn’t been so nervous, he would have thought the sight beautiful.

  “Captain,” Sorin called for Thorsten. A hush fell over the deck as the others noticed something was wrong. Finn stomped his ho
of on the deck and snorted. Sorin noticed Haskell picking up a bucket, and raising a hand to hit it. “Haskell, what are you doing?” he called out with a hushed tone.

  “Sirens?” Haskell ignored Sorin and directed the question at Ylva. She shook her head and he set the bucket down quietly.

  Something rumbled below them under the hull of the ship. There was a faint movement, but one that could only have come from something exceptionally large. Sorin drew his sword, and the others followed his lead. The ship shook as something hit it from below. Sorin reached out to Finn to catch himself. The horse stood firmly in place, but Sorin recognized the panic in his large eyes.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadow rising from the water. Ylva and Ingemar noticed it, too, pulsing their magic in the shadow’s direction. It rose high above them—it was monstrously large, with a body shaped like a human man, but towering twenty feet above the deck of the ship. Its long, dark body extended down below the sea.

  Before anyone had a chance to react, the creature spoke, its voice like the distant rumble of thunder during a storm. “You sail where you are not welcome.”

  They were all too stunned to answer—all except Ingemar. Her dark skin shimmered in the wake of the magic she continued to extend outward in an attempt to protect the ship. “Umibōzu, we request safe passage.” She was confident as she spoke, sounding nothing like how Sorin felt at the sight of the towering sea monster.

  “There is a price for such a request—one you cannot afford, young Ceasg. The Eastern Isles are under my protection, and the punishment for trespassers is an eternity in a watery grave.” The ship rocked with his words, and rain began to fall. A storm was brewing directly over the ship. To Sorin’s dismay, it was over the ship only, and no other part of the water; it was coming from the sea spirit known as an Umibōzu. Sorin feared that under the Umibōzu’s power, the sea would grow tremulous enough to sink them, as he had threatened.