A Legacy of Nightmares

by J. M. Wallace

  Adella and her fawning ladies acknowledged her with curtsies as they passed by with attractive Nefari officers, on their way to the makeshift marble dance floor that had been placed in the middle of the tent. They had shown up to Shaye’s quarters earlier that evening, as she had suggested they do. There, Shaye had played the gracious hostess, listening politely to their gossip—whom they thought would show up in the most beautiful dresses, and whom they each hoped to dance with. It was all trivial... These women had no clue what horrors awaited them all.

  Shaye fed them hors d’oeuvres, and kept their glasses filled with the finest wine from Bastian’s stash. They genuinely seemed to have enjoyed themselves, and by the end, Shaye had to admit that she didn’t mind their company. They were vain and spoiled, but it was only a result of their upbringing. Adella, on the other hand, had sat quietly with a sour look on her face the entire time. Shaye had known her long enough to see that she was a hateful, jealous creature, and something like that ran much deeper than rotten parents.

  When Bastian had arrived, the women were still in Shaye’s tent. They fawned over him, dressed gallantly in his black jacket and tailored black pants. The pocket of his jacket was embellished with the same design that made up Shaye’s dress. It was yet another way for him to show the world that she belonged to him. She had fought the urge to sneer at him, instead smiling brightly as she bid farewell to the tittering women so she could prepare herself for the ball.

  Bastian and Shaye had then walked arm in arm into the celebration, greeted with cheers and deep bows befitting royalty. Shaye played her part, standing silent at his side, as noblemen and officers vied for a small acknowledgment or favor from their would-be king.

  He had parted ways with her to speak with men whom he had taken the liberty of appointing as high-ranking officials, leaving her alone to sample the food laid out on the table. It had been a while now since she had last spotted him. Shaye and Brina wandered aimlessly through the drunken crowd. She was grateful for Brina’s presence, but Bastian’s absence made her nervous. It was odd that he was nowhere to be found, when he could typically be seen basking in the attention.

  Shaye decided to worry about Bastian later and joined a group of Nefari guards who were enjoying a game of cards. She helped herself to a seat between Gorm and Ulf. Gorm chuckled and dealt her into the game. It was getting easier to tell the twins apart after having spent so much time with them. She often found herself wondering where they had come from. Any time she had pried, they avoided the questions entirely. Perhaps tonight they would be drunk enough to give something away that she could use to her advantage...

  Ulf kicked at her playfully under the table. “Heard you gave that fat imbecile a little heat the other day.”

  Shaye feigned innocence, holding her cards to her chest. “Oh, the duke? An accident, I assure you.” She winked at them and played her hand.

  Gorm bellowed out a laugh. “I always knew you had a little fire inside of you!”

  You have no idea, she thought. Instead, when she spoke, she chose her words carefully, “I can’t fathom how a man like that made it so high on the totem.”

  A guard she did not recognize took the bait and scoffed, “Seems to be given a title, you gotta be fat and stupid.”

  Gorm piped in, “Shit, if that were the criteria, then you’d have been crowned King of Asterion long ago!”

  Everyone at the table laughed, even Shaye. She was trying to think of a way to plant seeds of doubt in these men’s heads. Bastian relied on the adoration of his followers, and if she could bring light to his faults, then she stood a chance of weakening his hold on these men.

  She threw a card onto the deck and drew another. “King Idor really only ever gave favor to the Magi who benefited him. It left many of the less powerful Magi throughout the land at the bottom of the food chain, along with the humans. It always bothered me, even as a young girl.”

  The table was silent as they continued to play cards—gone was the good cheer they had shared only moments ago. These men surely had no love for the old king, who had not only oppressed less powerful Magi, but who had failed when King Allerick staged a coup, suppressing magic throughout the entire land. It was a long shot, but perhaps if she could make them draw a comparison between Bastian and King Idor, then they would realize that they would never hold as much power as Bastian had promised them.

  The foul mood lingered into the next round of cards. Shaye took the opportunity to excuse herself, hoping that once she was gone, the men would discuss the matter she had brought up to them. Let them stew and see through Bastian’s facade, Shaye thought bitterly.

  She went back to the long table to fill a plate with food. A servant rushed to her side, handing her a plate filled with sweet rolls and cakes. She had to hold back a yelp when she saw the familiar face of the man. He was smiling, his hair slicked back neatly, not like the messy ponytail he usually sported. She grabbed his sleeve roughly, dragging him into a dark corner, and away from the distracted crowd. Brina followed silently, standing in front of them to block any wandering eyes.

  Shaye looked around for anyone who might be listening to them, then whispered furiously, “Thorsten, what in The Mother’s name are you doing here? Do you have any idea what Bastian will do to you if he finds you—”

  “Lookin’ good, kid,” he interrupted, letting his gaze slide playfully over the revealing dress. His eyes found Brina next, and he winked at her. “Who’s your beautiful friend?”

  “We don’t have time for this.” She grabbed his hand, trying to pull him toward the servants’ entrance of the tent. But he held firmly in place.

  “You’re right, we do not have time. You need to come with us. Sorin will be waiting for you with Finn at the tree line.”

  Shaye’s heart dropped. “Sorin? You brought the King of Asterion to the edge of his enemy’s camp? You’ve really lost it this time, you pompous ass!”

  Thorsten looked around uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. “Actually, I brought him into the heart of the camp. Which is why we really should be going.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not finished here.”

  “Finished? There is nothing to be done here. Sorin and his friends are retrieving the relics as we speak. This thing is over, as of tonight.”

  Shaye was reeling. She could not believe they had been so reckless. She needed to get Thorsten out of there before anyone found him. “I mean it. You need to leave, now.” Her magic flared, and Thorsten drew his hand back quickly, as if he had been burned by her touch. She did not miss the flicker of fear in his eye.

  Good, she thought, fear me. Run from me, far from here.

  A woman’s voice interrupted them, husky and seductive. Shaye knew immediately who it was. She rounded on Ylva, who stood dressed in a beautiful gown of burgundy and purple. “You, too? Have you all lost your minds? I suppose Runa and Haskell are nearby? Langley too?”

  Thorsten laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous. Langley is waiting by the explosives.”

  “By the Fates, explosives?”

  “Well, if things go south here, we thought he could give us a distraction long enough to grab you and go.”

  “I told you, I’m not going anywhere,” Shaye said through gritted teeth.

  Ylva moved between Shaye and the captain in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Shaye, please. I know things are...” She glanced down at Shaye’s hands. “Complicated. But we are still your friends. We are on your side, and we want to bring you home.”

  “Home? What does that even mean? I don’t have a home. I haven’t had a home for a long time.”

  Her words struck a blow, and she knew it. The hurt in her friends’ eyes made her heart ache, but she ignored it. Every moment they wasted here put them further in harm's way. If she needed to break their hearts to get them to leave, then that is what she would do.

  Footsteps interrupted the confrontation, and Shaye locked eyes with the eavesdropper. Adella. Dammit. Shaye’s stomach lurched at
the sight of her standing there. Adella’s eyes darted between Shaye and her friends. Adella smirked then took off, getting lost in the crowd.

  “Go. Now.” Shaye shoved Thorsten and Ylva back roughly with her magic. They stumbled, but hesitated.

  Thorsten shook his head in protest. “I promised him I would not return without you.”

  Shaye felt her face flush at the panic she was feeling. Adella was surely running straight to Bastian. “T-tell Sorin I remember. Tell him I know it was him that night at the Winter Solstice, and that it is my turn to save him.” Shaye heard guards shout from across the room. Her magic flared to life with the adrenaline that coursed through her now. She growled at Thorsten and Ylva, “Go.”

  They obeyed, escaping through a flap at the back of the tent, and out into the night. Bastian’s guests began to look up at the commotion, watching the guards search the room. They rounded up all the servants, corralling them to one corner of the tent. Shaye searched their human faces in alarm, looking for any sign of Runa. The mousey girl was smart and quick... She must have slipped out before the alarm had been sounded.

  One of the humans cried out as a Nefari lifted him into the air with his power; black fog encircled the man, squeezing him like a boa constrictor. A woman in the crowd of human servants fell to her knees, begging the Nefari to let him go. He was her husband, and he had done nothing wrong. Shaye balled her hands into fists at the sight of the guards roughly questioning the humans. Thorsten and the others would be long gone by now, but the servants left here would be severely punished for allowing spies within their ranks.

  Before Shaye could stop the guards, Bastian’s voice rang loud above the crowd, “Enough.”

  Without hesitation, the Nefari released the human—the man who had been dangling within the foggy grip fell to the ground. Shaye waited for him to stir, but he was not moving. His wife crawled to his side and let out a sob. Shaye ignored the crowd, who now bowed at their master’s presence. She rushed to the unconscious man’s side. His wife and the other humans recoiled at her presence, afraid that she was there to finish what the guard had started. She shut her eyes, trying to drown out what was happening around her in the tent.

  Her hands tingled as she called on her magic; not the black magic that had begun to seep into her soul, but the magic that had been born in her veins. She was calling on her Druid power. She dug deep down and whispered words she did not recognize. It was an ancient spell from before her time, but the words came to her as easily as breathing. When she used the black magic it felt like lightning, a shocking and powerful feeling. This was different: it felt warm and safe, like the world itself was embracing her, and sharing its power with her. The man was cold at first touch, but as her magic flowed into him, warmth returned, and he stirred awake.

  Shaye opened her eyes to find the humans in front of her standing in awe. There was no more fear in their eyes as they watched her heal the man. He sat up unsteadily, Shaye and the man’s wife offering him a hand to help him. The man and woman embraced, crying into each other's shoulders. Someone stood behind her clapping, loud and slow. She turned to find Bastian there. There was a bruise on his cheek, and his lip had been split open; but there was a wicked grin spread across his face. She knew that look—he was displeased with her, but saving his wrath for when they were alone.

  He turned toward the Nefari who stood as still as statues in a courtyard, unsure of what they should do. “Isn’t she marvelous?” He gestured widely to Shaye, as if she were an act in a show. “Milady demonstrates for us both the immense power she possesses, as well as her mercy.” He clapped once more, his Nefari court joining in with him this time. Some of them smiled, but others looked around nervously; if any one of them had healed the mortal man, they knew they would have paid for it with their life.

  “The intruders are of no threat to us. Let us resume our celebration.” Bastian signaled for the band to play, and they obeyed, playing a beautiful melody. Bastian held out a hand to Shaye and she took it obediently. She knew this was an act and that he expected her to resume her part.

  He pulled her onto the marble dance floor, spinning her once, then drawing her in close to him. The dream she’d had back at the Winter Palace flashed in her mind—the dream in which Bastian had stolen a kiss, the one where they had danced, and she had craved his touch. This time, she felt no desire rise within her.

  No, this was much different than the magical night she had dreamt about. Nefari stood to the side, trying to appear as if they were still enjoying the fabulous party their master had thrown for them. The servants stood in the corner, eyes to the ground, doing their best to appear demure and invisible. Bastian pulled Shaye closer to him, gripping her waist so tightly with his fingers, she was sure it would leave a mark. She shifted uncomfortably under his touch, but he did not release her.

  “Did you have a nice little reunion?” He spoke in a hushed tone so only Shaye could hear.

  There was no use in lying to him, but she had to be smart about it. She put a hand on his chest, running her fingers along the delicate detail on the pocket. “They were only here for me, Bass, and I told them I would not leave. I told them that this is where I belong now, here with you.”

  He laughed bitterly, but she could see in his eyes that he wanted to believe her. “It does not matter now. They will be taken care of soon enough. My Black Shuck is hunting them as we speak.”

  He dipped her low as the song came to its end. Once the dance floor cleared, he loosened his grip on her. “As for His Royal Majesty...” Shaye’s heart sank at the mention of Sorin, but she was careful not to show it on her face. “He is exactly where he should be. Having a reunion of his own.”

  “A reunion? What do you mean Bastian?”

  “I’ve been holding onto a little something for him. A gift.” As he smiled, an inhuman screech came from the night, drowning Shaye in dread.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sorin

  Sorin looked down at his hand—purple bruises were already forming from where it had connected with Bastian’s face. A piercing scream bellowed from the darkness of the night causing Sorin to look up in alarm. It was a blood curdling sound that made the hair on Sorin’s arms stand on end.

  Sorin and Bron readied themselves for the Nefari guards to advance on them; but, instead of attacking, the Nefari parted down the middle, allowing a nightmarish creature to pass through. The monster was dripping in a dense, black fog—like the man-eating fog they had encountered in the forest. There was something human-like about it in the way that it moved, but the low growl that sounded from its chest was anything but. The creature moved toward them slowly, allowing Sorin enough time to raise his sword.

  The fog shifted around the creature, revealing pieces of rotting flesh underneath. Bron realized before Sorin did, and cursed under his breath. “Elijah.”

  He was right—the man, or whatever was left of him, was their fallen friend. There was no mistaking the face that Sorin had known since childhood. The face that had laughed over drinks and fought side by side with them. Sorin lowered his sword. This had to be a trick, like in the caves when he had heard Elijah calling for him. They had lost him to the man-eating fog, and there was no way he could have survived after all this time.

  Unless the fog hadn’t been deadly... If Bastian had enchanted it with blood magic to transform anything caught within its grasp, then it was possible that the monster standing before him was what was left of one of his closest friends.

  “Elijah, what have they done to you?”

  The Nefari snickered at the shock on Sorin’s and Bron’s faces. Elijah, if they could still call him that, let out another earth-shattering screech. Sorin and Bron dropped their swords to cover their ears—the sound was painful as it pierced through their thoughts. It felt like a thousand pins digging into Sorin’s mind.

  Elijah took the opportunity to strike, bounding on Sorin in a savage rage. They went down to the ground, Sorin choking on the thick black fog as Elijah clawe
d at him. Sorin had bested Elijah in a fight many times, but this was different; there was a rabid strength to Elijah now, as if he felt no pain as Sorin threw blow after blow into him.

  Bron joined the fight, trying to pull Elijah off Sorin. Elijah threw Bron off him and Sorin as if he were no more than a fly buzzing around his ear. Sorin could smell the putrid scent of black magic on Elijah. He struggled under Elijah’s brute strength, but it was no use. Sorin could hear bones cracking as he hit Elijah, but it did not stop him.

  A blast of magic erupted from the trees as Ingemar slammed into the Nefari guards, who were too distracted by the fight to see her coming. Mavka whistled, and an enormous murder of crows barreled down on the dark Magi, drawing blood with each peck of their razor-sharp beaks. Ingemar did not let up as she continued to slam her magic into them. It took only minutes for the Nefari to be overtaken; between Ingemar’s magic, and the crows obeying Mavka’s command, they were left dead in a heap.

  Sorin was still going hand to hand with Elijah, as Bron continued to jump in to aid him. Ingemar blasted her magic into the three of them, throwing them apart, and giving Sorin and Bron a moment of reprieve. Elijah shook his head, the fog clearing from his face for a moment to reveal that half of it had been eaten off—nothing but skull was showing beneath. The skin on the other side of his face was rotting, and Sorin could see pain in his remaining eye.

  Elijah was still in there somewhere, he realized with a start. Elijah let out a crackling hiss, ready to lunge again, but Sorin spoke: “Elijah, I know you’re in there. Please, fight it.”