Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  Then, he selected a shimmering gold paint, and with his pinky, he traced two lines from both corners of each eye down to his jaw. Golden tears for the pain it would take to successfully gain what he was working towards. Tears for what he had lost, but gold for what he had and would still gain. Next, he found a small bottle of powder. This was purple as well, but a lighter purple. He sprinkled it over his hair until the black was nearly gone, and purple was seen instead.

  When he finally pulled on the smart uniform of black set with gold stitching and embellishments including buckles and belts and buttons.

  At last, Riah turned from the mirror to the window in which he could see beyond the dragon keep to the horizon. The sun was low in the sky, dipping over water seen far away. His unnamed dragon was perched on a cliff far from the fortress but close enough that Riah knew which one it was.

  “I would paint you tonight if I had the time,” Riah murmured. The sky was just the right shade of purple, touched with the golden kisses of stars when Riah finally turned and made his way to the ballroom.

  As previously mentioned, Riah found the party planner’s taste impeccable. Especially when he entered the ballroom. The black floor had been polished so well that he could see the reflection of the guests in it as he peered through a crack in the ballroom’s door. The walls of the room extended for more than twenty feet between the floor and the equally black ceiling. The ceiling, however, had not been polished.

  From the ceiling hung chandeliers fashioned of iron spikes which held flickering candles. All windows were blocked by purple and gold draperies.

  The guests themselves were small in number but dressed for the occasion. Riah guessed that only twenty were in attendance. Yes, this was more of a party than it would be a ball.

  Arria was fluttering among them dressed in a formfitting dark green gown which reached to her calves and a brownfeathered piece which was fastened to her shoulders and curled around her neck. Her maple hair was just as wild and untamed as always. Her face was painted with streaks of soft gold and emerald green.

  At least half of the other guests were dressed the same, having come from Arria’s territory, Riah presumed. They were dressed in similar colors to hers. And they were clearly Shadow Bearers. Ones who appeared perfect and flawless. He knew that Arria would one day obtain their power too but in a different way. She was like him. Not born a Shadow Bearer but one who would become one through Leviathan’s Marking.

  It was then that Riah remembered the other territory, that belonging to the Lady of the Wolves who was clearly not here tonight. No, only one guest seemed to have come from there. Riah knew this due to the steely expression the middleaged man wore, his costume of blue and white, the blue icecolored paint on his face and neck, and the fact that an enormous white wolf followed him everywhere he went.

  “Are there others from her territory?” Riah wondered as he stared at the creature.

  The others were all new to Riah. They were draped in black with hoods covering their faces. “Shedim.” The word whispered ice into every bone in Riah’s body. He could not contain the shiver that ricocheted down his spine. He was grateful that they wore hoods. He was not yet sure he wished to see their actual faces. If they had faces at all.

  Arria caught Riah’s gaze from the door, gave him a small nod, and then in a cheery voice announced to all those present to prepare for their new ally’s entrance. Riah took a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed through the double doors of the ballroom. He was not met with cheers and applause as had been the case when he was the center of attention at other parties back in Gnosi. The creatures were silent. Each fastened their eyes on the young man with the sky crying golden tears painted on his face. They were observing him, he knew. Sizing him up. Wondering why the hell Leviathan agreed to bring him here.

  Even now, as Riah came to stand before them and welcome them with forced cheerfulness, he felt the superior power of the Shedim leaking from their very forms. A power that was superior to every Shadow Bearer in the room.

  Riah was speaking when his words faltered. Niceties that ceased as he realized something. “I am the only full-fledged human here.” His memory turned back to Gnosi when he had been the renowned guest. “Now, I am but diamond dust in their eyes.”

  If Riah had painted what happened next, he would have used grays and blacks to match the foreboding, melancholy tone of the room. Music came from somewhere. Where, he was not exactly sure. It was a haunting tone full of vibrato and clash. Music which couldn't decide if it wished to be quiet or thunderous; if it wished to swing dancers into slow rhythms or have them move as if they were losing their minds.

  The Shedim were silent, and the Shadow Bearers were, for the most part, quiet. They spoke in low tones. This party was dreary. No one danced. Even with all the quiet, the guests stood in clusters. The only one left alone was the man of ice who stood in a corner like a watch guard. The wolf sat at his feet.

  Riah, too, was alone until Arria finally approached him with a goblet in hand. “They wish to see the dragons,” she said in a low tone. She shrugged. “Normally, they would speak to the guest, but apparently, they took one look at you and knew everything they needed to know.”

  “And what would that be exactly?” Riah responded shrewdly. Arria cast him a look which contained both glare and a sense of interest as if she were scolding him while simultaneously reading him. She did not reply. “Nevermind,” Riah said at last. He downed the contents of the goblet Arria had handed him. “Another one.”

  Arria restrained her scowl. “I would have you slaving for me as well if this were held in my own home.” Her tone was bitter, but she refilled his goblet regardless.

  An hour passed in which Riah and Arria stood side by side. Riah drank more slowly as he listened to Arria. She was pointing out the guests of whom were Shadow Bearers. The Shedim, sheskipped for thereason that shedidn’t actually know who they were. “They do not speak to us. They do not even talk to the Shadow Bearers,” she said with a resigned sigh.

  “Why?” Riah pressed. But he already knew the answer. The Shedim looked down on humans. Just as their master did. And even the Shadow Bearers, being part human, were like dirt beneath their feet. “They feel thatway because, atthe beginning of time, humans were made their superiors. They are not rising to fight back. And when they strike, I do not wish to be dragged down with the rest.” Arria did not answer. She only stared off at the Shedim who were watching them from their cluster. “Have you actually seen one?” Riah whispered. “Without the hood?”

  Arria shook her head. “Leviathan hasn't even seen them. No one does. Not until they enter the Infernal Cities and their true forms are revealed.”

  Riah’s brows shot up. “Did they climb out of the Infernal Cities to come here?”

  Arria shook her head once more. “No, they came from…” Here, she shuddered. The rest of her sentenced passed from her mouth in a breathy whisper. “The Island of the Dead King.”

  The title meant nothing to Riah as he asked aloud, “Island of the Dead King? You mean that forsaken island of the north that some rumor phantoms of dead kings roam?”

  Arria shushed him with alarm and then nodded. “I’m not sure that phantoms of dead kings do roam there. But that is where Lucius holds his home. For the most part. At least, that’s what Leviathan has said.”

  “Who is that?” Riah said, changing the subject. He motioned towards the Shadow Bearer of ice. “The Lady of the Wolves’ right hand and the only one to actually live in her territory aside from the Lady herself and the wolves. At least, the only ones anyone has ever seen. You may be wondering why she did not come.” Riah nodded and lifted his goblet to his lips once more. “She said she had better things to do with her time. Even after she planned the party.”

  “ She planned this?” Riah asked without hiding his surprise. Arria only nodded. “She planned this but doesn’t even show up?”

  Arria shrugged. “She sends servants in her stead.” Riah’s brows rose. �
�Oh, yes,” he responded dryly, “like the guard she had posted in the corner.”

  Riah emptied his third goblet and was beginning to reach for more when Arria snagged his wrist with her hand. “You do not want to be so dizzy you cannot stand when they begin the songs.”

  Riah’s brow rose as he asked, “What songs?”

  Arria did not reply. She didn’t have to. The haunting music was now low and warbling. The guests gathered towards him. Arria slipped from Riah’s side to join the other nineteen guests. Words began falling from the lips of the Shadow Bearers. The Shedim remained silent.

  As the first line flowed into the second, Riah felt the song rather than heard it. For it was being uttered in the Infernal Speech. And Riah knew the song. The same one which had been carved beneath the fortress, beneath the carvings of the dragons. He could not tell you the words, not even now. But the feeling was too distinct to separate it from the feeling he had had beneath the fortress. It was ancient and cruel. Beautiful and transcendent. It felt...much bigger than himself. It was like looking into the night sky at billions of stars, and knowing that tomorrow, he would go blind and never see them again.

  The same lines repeated over and over…

  Riah felt the words and knew their meaning in his own tongue.

  When the last word dissipated into the air, and Riah was left breathless. So breathless, he forgot the mask he had donned before this all began. He bowed deeply before them. The Shadow Bearers nodded, and the Shedim remained still as statues. The sight of Lucius sitting beneath his fortress in rags struck him again. Riah’s insides coiledin risingpanic. He drank at least four more goblets of wine.

  Riah was vaguely aware of the few remaining guests in the

  ballroom when he stumbled out into the hall and sagged against the wall. He closed his eyes and breathed the air which was no longer shrouded by the presence of the Shedim. The creatures still sent chills spreading over his skin even as they were now out of sight.

  Riah’s eyes sprang open only when he felt warm hands against his clothed chest, pushing him slightly so that he was pinned more firmly against the wall. He had a mere second to register that Arria was touching him before her lips melted to his. If Riah had been sober, he would have been surprised. But not now, with the wind rushing through his veins. Hungrily, he returned the kiss until he heard a small gasp of hers fall from her lips.

  She pulled away slightly to peer at him through hooded eyes. She was intoxicated too. Riah braced his hands on her hips and returned bent to nip at her earlobe before trailing sloppy kisses down her neck. She grasped at the back of his neck, her fingers brushing the tips of his hair. Arria’s soft moan brushed past his ear, making Riah lurch forward until he found a door, threw it open and fell into darkness. They had entered the gallery.

  It had been a long time since something like this had happened. Riah did not listen to the mind that blared at him that this wasn’t a prudent decision. Instead, he listened to his traitorous body. They tumbled to a dust-laden sofa with Riah on top. Arria was now grappling with the buttons on the top portion of his uniform. Then, she was nipping at his neck, and he was the one left breathless.

  Riah was vaguely aware that paint was smearing off both of their faces as her lips closed around the pulse just under his jaw. Then he was aware of light. Not the dim rays of moonlight which were peeking through the draperies of the gallery, but warm light pouring from the hall.

  The door had opened. The man of ice and the wolf were standing there. A raven was perched on the man’s arm. “Leviathan has sent a message to you…” the man said with cool dullness.

  Even in his sluggish state, Riah rose from the sofa. Arria whimpered at the loss of contact. Riah snatched the message from the bird’s beak. “I will be going then,” the man said coldly. He then departed with the wolf at his heels.

  “So will I,” Arria said in a tone just as chilling as theman who had just left them.

  “But...wait…” Riah stammered as she staggered from the room. By the point he had chased her down the hall, she had mounted Gamgee and the two were gliding towards the east.

  Riah clutched the parchment in his hand. Arria was angry with him, that much he knew. Maybe it was due to drinking.

  He unfolded the parchment and found that handwriting in the Infernal Speech was scrawled across it in black ink. “Of course he would use that language,” Riah muttered, knowing Leviathan snatched at every chance he could find to test Riah. Or mock him.

  But Riah did not read it until the morning. He had fallen asleep in the gallery with the parchment in hand. When he awoke, feeling quite unwell, he saw that it was still clutched in his fist. This time, he took a long moment to translate it and read:

  I have returned to Mingroth and to one of the seven. The Queen awaits me. The Seekers are here. Will return in due time.

  -Your impeccable master,

  Leviathan

  Twenty-Six

  I lured Mia into the woods today. She has spent the week bent over maps, upon maps, upon maps. She’s been breaking her brain and growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that she cannot decode the map from Caranthia. I went to Tyron, and with a glint in his eye, he told me his plan. We would lure her into the woods and force her to have some fun. Oh, glorious fun. My sister desperately needs to relearn the word. To swim and throw knives and then when dusk was to come, we would scale the volcano as the shadows of the sun were cast over it.

  Mia wasn’t happy at first, but finally, her hair was down and feet were bare, and we ran races to the lake in the far reaches of the forest. It took us hours to return, and when we did, we sat at the top of the volcano, right on its rim. We lost our minds in numbering the stars.

  Now, you may wonder how we lured her, but to reveal that would be to break my dear sister’s heart and to embarrass her.

  We sat, and Mia leaned into me and whispered, her voice as small as her hand in mine. We are only thirteen years from our births, and yet we can look at the stars and know what she said to me. She said, “Elyon placed each of those stars in the sky just as He placed each of us here.”

  I want nights like this every night for the rest of my life. Terra once said something similar. It had been a starry night in Medulla’s garden. Thetreewas glisteningwith its magic, the sap silver as it oozed from within. Cam had leaned into her sisters. All of them. Fiera, Terra, Adria, and Mista. And wished that this moment could last forever.

  Cam closed her mother’s diary, squeezed her eyes shut, and slept.

  Ash was floating on the wind. Floating on a forgotten whisper

  of a fallen name. Cam felt the whisper on her skin. A whisper of home. Of the past. Eyes closed, but she could see it all. She breathed in. Out. It all smelled the same. The smell of roses and blood battling for dominance in the air. Her eyes fluttered open.

  And she saw Mirabelle.

  Forgotten.

  Like the ruins of Enboria but...worse. Worse, a word that

  felt dull compared to the piercing within her. Cam awoke, her breath ragged and heavy like lead in her chest and throat. Her fingers were trembling as they grasped the bars before her. Sweat dribbled down her brow and neck. “Just a dream…” she murmured. But it wasn’t. Not really. “What will it look like when we go back?”

  She saw it rolling on the floor just beyond the bars. The bars were wide enough apart that she could squeeze her hand through. It was half full. Or half gone, as she said to herself. She glanced at her companions. They were all asleep.

  And she didn’t care. Didn’t even regard all the protestations she had made to herself for so long...

  Camaria drank. And sank into oblivion.

  “Itwas worth it,” Peter assured Cam as her fingers trailed the

  bruise on his cheek. He winced at her touch, for the skin was tender. Tonight. A day following the formation of their plan they would do it. Cam knew that even with the key, the company could not escape unnoticed and rescue the hostages before they were caught. “Iwill sne
akout tonight andfind them. Theymay beable to help us”

  Cam cut into Peter’s sentence. “No, Peter. You’ve already taken a blow. Literally,” she said with a small grin. The grin faded. “Let me.” Peter began to protest, but Cam clampeda hand over his mouth. “Do you want them to hear our plan?”

  “They’ll beat you,” he hissed.

  “Then we’ll be even.”

  He did not reply.

  Hours later, the restless company had finally slipped into

  their respective dozing motions. Peter, too, had his head slumped forward with eyes slipping shut. Cam crept to her feet after noticing that many of the guards had also nodded off. Even Shadow Bearers needed to sleep sometimes. And as far as Cam knew, they didn’t interchange their guards down here.

  “Perhaps, Silva has a limited supply,” Cam mused after remembering the night they had revealed themselves to Silva. The night she had killed her own creatures.

  Cam had never heard a sound more frightening than that of the key in the rusty lock as she extended her hand around the bars. Due to the fact that she could not see the lock, inserting the key proved both difficult and noisy. The door’s swinging open was worse. She cringed, her heart slamming against her chest in rhythmic pandemonium.

  No one stirred.

  And it was as if the Shadow Bearers were awake but that they were waiting. Watching. Watching to see where she dared go next.

  Cam crept from the cell, closed the door behind her, and tiptoed into the passage. Every never in her body trembled. Sweat coated every inch of her skin. Cam’s hands went to warm her arms as soon as the tunnel around her met her skin with its chilled, moist walls. Only the dripping of water droned in her ears. Her breath was a thread pulled tight inside her. She hugged herself as if to prevent her body from scrambling back to her cell.

  When she stumbled into a wall and then into empty air, she found that she was once again in the shower-chamber and that the pipes were no longer running with water. Hesitantly, she stepped towards one of them. The chamber was illuminated by a thin strip of light from a circular window. Cam’s fingers traced the circumference of the pipe’s end for a second before she put her mouth close to it. Her voice was a faint, wavering whisper of simultaneous hope and hesitancy. “Who are you?”