A Legacy of Nightmares

by J. M. Wallace

  Shaye’s heart skipped a beat. His daughter... Mavka. There was an uncomfortable silence as they escorted the Dwellers into the forest.

  Chief Einar grabbed a large horn from his side. He sounded it, breaking the quiet air that now filled the battlefield below. Every Dweller and creature from the Raven Wood answered his call, following obediently behind as Sorin led the way back to the tree line. They walked so silently that Shaye could hear her own heartbeat. She tried to remind herself to breathe steadily, but all she could think of was the sight of Umbra snapping Mavka’s small neck.

  When they reached the trees, they were met by Captain Thorsten and his crew. Shaye searched frantically for any signs of significant injury, but found none. They sported bruises and cuts but nothing fatal. She had no time to feel relief as they cleared a path, settling Mavka’s lifeless body onto a bed of brown leaves.

  Bron sat at her side, gripping her small hand tightly. He looked like a giant beside her small body. Her moths were no longer dancing around her; but rather, sat on her arms and legs in mourning. Chief Einar knelt at Mavka’s other side; his face fell and he began to weep. Shaye turned away, it was too much for her to take in.

  The Dwellers gathered around the fallen princess, dropping to their knees. They bent down low so that their heads touched the ground. Though they had won the battle, and defeated Bastian, it seemed that the land had not yet healed. The Dwellers dug their hands into the cold, rotting earth and began to whisper in a language Shaye did not recognize.

  Their hushed chants rose through the trees, and a cool breeze blew Shaye’s loose hair into her tear-filled eyes. Sorin kept hold of her hand as they witnessed the Dwellers in mourning. Their voices began to rise—it was like music, as it drifted through the forest around them. Shaye swore she could see the glisten of magic in the air, as if the words themselves were filled with it. She kept her eye on it as it flowed toward Mavka.

  Shaye released Sorin’s hand and knelt to the ground. Putting her hand to it, she could feel the pulse of the land, as if it was answering the Dwellers’ call. Sorin knelt beside her with confusion in his eyes. “What is it?”

  Shaye whispered to him, “This is going to sound crazy, but I think they’re asking Asterion for help.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shaye

  Shaye couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched the scene unfolding around her. Crouching beside Sorin, she could sense the change in the atmosphere in the forest. The Dwellers were chanting in an ancient language, and the land seemed to be awakening because of it. Sunlight streamed through the trees and highlighted Mavka’s body, laying still beside Bron.

  Chief Einar sat on the other side of her, his head pressed into the ground like the Dwellers that surrounded them. Shaye, unsure of what to do, and too afraid to disrupt what was happening, sat silently beside Sorin. His presence was a powerful thing; it felt like she had gotten back a piece of herself. She could not help but steal glances at him, afraid that if she took her eyes off him for too long he would disappear.

  Shaye leaned into Sorin and began to whisper a prayer. She placed her hands on the ground in front of them and closed her eyes. Her heavy lashes kissed her cheeks as tears ran down them. She reveled in the heat radiating from Sorin at her side, as she called on her power. The ground beneath them rumbled in response to her call, and she felt Sorin tense as the crowd around them chanted louder. The dead leaves around Mavka began to change. They came to life, green and healthy, just as the flowered trees had done in the forest, the day she had sung the ancient Druid ballad.

  Bron noticed it, too. His voice wavered, “Mavka?”

  The magic around them was undeniable now. Something otherworldly was happening here; something that was not meant for mortal eyes. Shaye peeked over at Sorin, who was not used to such a display of powerful magic. Mavka’s moths began to stir as something shimmered above her body. Bron jolted back in alarm as Mavka’s spirit took form and wavered above. Shaye watched as he reached out tenderly, trying to brush shaking fingers through her vine-covered hair. Tears came tumbling down his cheeks when his hand met only air.

  Shaye could sense Sorin holding his breath. She could not blame him—she too was having a hard time believing what she was seeing. Mavka’s spirit smiled down at Bron. She was no more than a thin veil, teetering between their world and the next. The Dwellers stopped chanting, but the magic still lingered in the air.

  Mavka’s voice was a faint echo on the wind, “Bron.” Her head tilted to the side, there was so much sorrow in her voice that Shaye had to hold back a sob. “I do so wish we could have gone to that ball together.”

  Bron balled his fists at his side, and collected himself before answering her through his tears, “I would have liked nothing more than to have taken you to as many balls as your heart desired.” He struggled to choke the words out, “Hell, I’d have even thrown one in your honor.” He hung his head low in despair, and Shaye’s heart broke for him.

  “It was a great honor to have been in your presence, even for a short time.” She held both hands to her heart, showing her sincerity.

  “The honor was all mine, Mavka.” Bron held a fist over his heart in return, and shut his eyes tight.

  They stayed like that for some time, as the Dwellers gave them time to speak the words that had been left unsaid. Chief Einar caught Shaye’s eye. The ancient Dweller was smiling sweetly at the scene unfolding before him. When he noticed Shaye’s attention on him, he nodded to her, acknowledging her role in calling on the powerful magic that was helping to hold Mavka’s spirit in place.

  Sorin’s face was pale. “How?”

  Chief Einar smiled sympathetically, “It is a rare gift... but our ancestral land has chosen to answer our call. It is not for us to question.”

  Mavka regarded them, tilting her head, and giving Sorin and Shaye an endearing smile. “I do not have the words to fully express what you all mean to me. I have lived a fulfilled life, thanks to you all.” More urgently, she added, “Unfortunately, we do not have much time, and there is work to be done.”

  Shaye knelt in front of Mavka’s spirit, wishing she could take her small delicate hand in her own black, tainted ones. “Mavka, the battle is over. The Nefari have surrendered.”

  Mavka looked at Shaye as if she were the one visiting from a fatal slumber. She shook her head and giggled, “I know that, silly. It is what comes next, that concerns me.”

  “Y—you knew?” Shaye fumbled for her words.

  Shaye glanced at Chief Einar, who did not look surprised, as he stood silently to the side with his hands clasped in front of him. Mavka smiled softly at him, and replied to Shaye’s question matter-of-factly, “Of course. I could see everything from where I am. Now listen carefully, it is vitally important that you get going.”

  “Going where?” Shaye felt exasperated by Mavka’s vague words. “I don’t understand.” She searched Mavka’s sweet face and held back the tears threatening to fall.

  “Oh please do not cry.” Mavka reached a ghostly white hand out to Shaye.

  “Mavka, you died. We watched you die.”

  Mavka held her hand to her heart. “I know, and I am sorry for the grief you all felt, and the heartache that will follow when I leave you; but your mother is very insistent on what you must do.”

  Shaye’s heart thudded in her chest. The forest suddenly felt small, and far too warm. Through her shallow breath, she whispered, “My mother? You saw her when you were...”

  “Yes. She says that killing Bastian did not destroy the blight. She explained that it was far too late for that, and that what must be done now is up to you.”

  Shaye knew it would sound crazy to the others, but she had only just dreamed of her mother. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that her mother would have found Mavka on the other side, wherever or whatever that might have been. Mavka had her full attention.

  Shaye stood tall to face her. “Tell me everything.”

  Mavka launched into a condensed
version of her story, skipping over the details of her journey to the other side, to the part where she encountered Shaye’s mother. Sorin shifted beside her; she knew he was growing anxious. Mavka could see it, too. “I know this is difficult, Your Majesty. These things are often beyond our understanding.”

  Satisfied with his compliant silence, she continued, “Yrlissa Wistari believes that the relics must be returned to where they came from. You must take them north and destroy them. If you do not, you risk this realm falling to a fate worse than anything you can imagine.”

  Shaye looked at Sorin. His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was ready for an argument. Shaye tugged nervously on her long hair. “I believe her. Look around. The blight is still here. We need to finish what we first set out to do.”

  He shifted on his feet and looked around the forest. Shaye thought for a moment he might argue with her, but instead he said, “Then we do it together. Just as we planned before.”

  Bron rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, “We will ready the horses.”

  Sorin held a hand up, “No. Shaye and I will go. You will stay here. My mother will need help to sort the aftermath of the battle out.”

  Mavka’s ghost-like form faltered, she was losing her foothold on their world. She spoke quickly before Bron could protest, “King Sorin is right. You are needed here. Shaye and His Majesty will keep one another safe as they make their journey into The Beyond.”

  Sorin and Shaye spoke in unison, “The Beyond?”

  Mavka giggled uncomfortably, “Did I leave that part out?” Her moths were back to their lively selves, fluttering around her iridescent head. They seemed to be keeping closer than usual to her, as if they too were afraid she would drift away at any moment. “The relics of the three brothers must return to where it all began. That is, they must return to where the brothers came from... to The Beyond.” She shrugged, attempting to look casual. Shaye knew better—she could see the way Mavka’s shoulders were drawn up, and the way she shifted her eyes nervously.

  “Is there something else?” Shaye didn’t want to push, but they needed to be ready if they were to go to a land that no mortal had ventured into, and returned from, in centuries.

  Mavka shook her head and looked down at the ground, as her spirit began to fade. “I wish I could tell you more, but that is all I know. I am here to give you the puzzle, but it is up to the two of you to solve it.”

  Before Shaye could say a word, Mavka bid them farewell, looking at Bron first, “I will truly miss you...” Then to Shaye, Sorin, and the Dwellers surrounding them, “All of you.”

  Mavka’s spirit blinked out from the forest, with no sign that she had ever been there to begin with. Her moths fluttered away in a sad swirl of motion. Shaye fought back the tears and reached for Bron. He joined her and Sorin, and the three of them stood in silent mourning for Mavka.

  Shaye turned to Sorin. The memory of the night at the Brass Blossom, after Leif’s funeral, lingered in her mind. It felt like ages ago since Sorin had stood by her side, waiting for her to agree to help him. He had not forced her to go with him; it had always been her choice to make. Now she needed it to be his choice if he would come with her on yet another hopeless quest.

  She held her hands nervously at her sides, gripping her filthy, torn dress. “I can do this alone, Sorin. No one would judge you for staying here and taking your place on the throne.”

  He reached for her hands, settling them into his own. Giving her a sly smile, he repeated the same words she had said to him when she had first agreed to help: “Tell me what I have to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sorin

  Shaye made haste in preparing for their journey. Sorin watched her and Bron gather supplies and ready the horses. He knew that Bron was angry with him for ordering him to stay behind, but there was no one he trusted more with cleaning up the mess the Nefari army had left in the wake of battle. He knew that he could rely on his best friend to oversee the trials, and to find any Nefari deserters who may have gotten away. More than that, Bron needed to take time to grieve for Mavka. Her loss was a heavy blow to all of their hearts, but Sorin had known Bron long enough to recognize that his friend had been in love.

  Bron and the rest of the palace would be left with quite a mess; there was sure to be discord in the city of Aramoor. Their capital would soon be buzzing with word of the battle. The last thing Sorin wished, was for Magi and mortals to turn on one another, when what they needed most was a united front. Though it would be difficult for his friends to sit out this journey north, he knew that their help would be invaluable to the next steps Asterion needed to take.

  Bron was using Sorin’s orders as a distraction from his grief, and joined Sorin in talking with the clan chiefs to make sure their delicate alliance would not falter while he was away. The clans were buzzing with excitement after their victory on the battlefield, and the miracle they witnessed with Mavka’s brief visit from the afterlife—but the chiefs were wary. They did not know Sorin’s mother or the council, and were having a hard time believing that the other mortals would be as willing to work with them as Sorin was.

  The chiefs were growing louder in the heated debate amongst themselves. They were ignoring Sorin entirely before Chief Einar stepped in, “Friends, how can King Sorin prove his word and his loyalty if you will not give him the chance?” Chief Einar sighed, stepping between the clan chiefs, each still wearing their armor and paints, and ready for a brawl. Sorin knew it was best to stay quiet and allow Chief Einar to take control of his people.

  The exasperated chief bellowed above the noise, “It is our duty to allow the young king the chance to prove himself.” He addressed Sorin now, “We will meet with the Queen Regent and your council.” He added, “And we will be gracious in doing so.” He gave a pointed look to the other chiefs, and Sorin suppressed a smirk. Chief Einar acted more like a stern father than a clan chief amongst this rambunctious lot.

  In the end they agreed, and with the reassurance that Bron would be the bridge between the Asterions and the Forest Dwellers, Sorin felt confident that the treaty would hold until he could return. Now there was the matter of getting his mother and the council to agree. He knew it was time for him to take his seat on the throne, but he could not let Shaye venture into The Beyond alone.

  He bid farewell to the Forest Dwellers, thanking them sincerely for their service and sacrifice, then walked with Chief Einar, Shaye, and Bron to the Asterion camp on the other side of the battlefield.

  Sorin’s heart ached at the sight of it; a vast number of bodies littered the dead, brown grass. Men, women, and creatures laid lifelessly, with their blood seeping into the land. He frowned each time he passed a face that he recognized, taking a moment to close their eyes, and saying a silent prayer for what this war had cost them.

  General Tyrell’s men had worked quickly, rounding up the injured and any Nefari who had surrendered. The camp was cramped with soldiers tending to their wounds, and Asterion women worked on those too injured to help themselves. Shaye called his attention to a clearing between the tents where the Nefari prisoners were being held. They sat in chains, some with a look of disdain on their faces, and others with a look of sorrow and defeat.

  Sorin called to the General, “Have you recorded the numbers?”

  General Tyrell handed him a small stack of papers, and Sorin sorted through them, noting the tallies of dead Asterions, Nefari, and creatures, along with the number of prisoners taken. He nodded, satisfied with how meticulous the general’s men had been.

  Shaye shifted beside him. He knew she was anxious to see how this would play out for the Magi. There had been Nefari who stood between them and Bastian’s wrath on the hill, and Sorin would not forget the enormity of that.

  He addressed General Tyrell, “It is my official decree that each and every one of the prisoners be given a fair trial.”

  General Tyrell nodded, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Shaye chimed in, “How are
you keeping them from accessing their magic?”

  A familiar, raspy voice answered from behind, “I have enchanted the chains. I’ve been working on the spell for some time.” Anselem chuckled, “Turns out I’ve still got a little pizzazz in these old bones.”

  Sorin grinned at the old councilman, surprised to see that he looked younger than before. He was still an old man, but he no longer appeared drab and ancient, as he had before Sorin left the palace. Perhaps it was a sign of his magic being returned to full strength with the Stave destroyed.

  “It seems we all do.” Sorin’s mother, Queen Evelyn, strode up to them with a smile. She reached for Sorin, and they embraced. She whispered into his ear, “Your father would be so proud of you.”

  “We’re not finished yet, mother.”

  She pulled from the embrace and tilted her head, “Spoken like a true king.”

  Still, Sorin felt a sense of pride swell within him at her words. He had doubted himself so often—and still feared the journey ahead—that he had not considered the enormity of what they had accomplished these last weeks.

  He guided his mother to where Shaye stood patiently. “Mother, allow me to introduce you to the last Druid, Shaye Wistari.”

  Shaye started to bow, but his mother swept her up into a hug. Shaye’s eyes went wide as she looked at Sorin, and he chuckled.

  His mother spoke, “Shaye, you have done this country a great service. There are no words grand enough to thank you for your selflessness.”

  Shaye shifted uncomfortably and there was a blush on her beautiful face. “Queen Evelyn, I cannot take the credit. I nearly lost myself to the darkness and cost Asterion many lives in the process.”

  Sorin’s mother shook her head, “We all lose ourselves from time to time. It is what we do to make up for it that counts in the eyes of The Mother.”

  Sorin stepped in, “That brings us to our next conversation. May we?” He gestured to a large military tent, and his mother led the way.