The hard coldness flooded inside of her, filling her with a peculiar wet stinging, until it reached her palms. The wool blanket wrapped around her was suddenly wet. She quickly shut her hand closed and held her breath for a moment. Slowly, her fingers felt the blanket around her, felt the cool moisture upon it. She let out a shaky breath, feeling her palms next. They were wet as well. What is this? She thought desperately to herself. She raised a shaky right hand and slowly opened her palm again. She let the coolness flood through her more carefully this time, as a thin stream of water shot slowly out from her palm and formed a shimmering orb that floated in front of her. It glowed with a blueish light from within, contrasting magnificently with the pitch-dark room surrounding it. She quickly closed her hand. The orb fell with a splash onto the wooden floor, shrouding her in darkness again. Her heart now pounding, all desire for sleep forgotten, she pushed herself up to stand. She opened her palm again, digging even deeper within her to find the spark of warmth instead of the coldness of water. A flame formed and hovered above her palm. Her mouth pulled up into a smile and she skidded quickly from the bedroom, through the kitchen, and slipped quietly out the door.
Leaning against the house, she let out a long, low sigh. A strip of moonlight inched its way into the opening of the mountain and landed upon the hidden city. Torches flickered from a few houses, and along the corridors of the mountain walls. Rejicio soldiers paced back and forth between rows of homes, their swords clanging against the silver chainmail, keeping the city safe while everyone else slept.
Her legs moved quickly down the row of houses and up the stairs. She ran smoothly across the bridge, much more smoothly than the first time. She paused at the rounded white door and knocked gently, praying that someone was still awake. A few seconds later there was a scuffling and the door creaked open, a pair of hazel eyes peering out at her.
Pileus opened it wider. “Mythia, my queen,” he said suddenly, sounding surprised. He bowed down at her feet. She stepped in carefully, thankful that she left her daytime outfit on to sleep in. Titus and the Doctrine stood up from the table and walked quickly over to her.
“What is it? Did something happen?” Titus immediately asked, a look of concern etched into his dark, handsome face.
Mythia looked back and forth between the three and then at the now empty table. “Where’s Ustrina?”
Titus glanced over at the closed bedroom door. “Sleeping.”
“Is there any chance you could wake her? I need to speak with her.” Mythia pleaded. It was the viden she wished to speak with now, more than anyone.
Titus raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure whatever you need to say can be said to us, Mythia. Besides, Ustrina needs her sleep. She’s been… tired lately. I’m not sure it would be wise to wake her.”
The Doctrine placed his hands on her shoulders. “Mythia, what’s wrong? Your face is as pale as linen.”
Mythia sighed. She raised her hands carefully and yet again let the new coolness from within flow through her and out of her palms. The shimmering orb of water floated in front of them, reflecting off the candlelight while rotating slowly in midair. She lowered her hands and it fell with a splash, the three others jumping quickly out of the way.
The Doctrine stared at the small puddle on the floor for a moment before speaking in a whisper. “The fourth gift.”
Pileus looked bewildered but did not say a word. Titus stared curiously at Mythia. “The element of water… how?’
“The legend,” the Doctrine answered, “had spoken of the unmarked bearing a fourth gift. A gift designed specifically to beat the Tenebris. Mythia.” He faced her, staring at her intently. “You said the king used fire against you.” She nodded. “The Spiritus has gifted you with water, to fight his fire.”
Mythia furrowed her eyebrows. “But why now?"
“The third scroll,” the Doctrine sighed. “It had said something would awaken within us all, but also within you.” He looked at her carefully. “It spoke of a beast. Have you noticed any change within yourself, Mythia?”
Something growing increasingly familiar snarled inside of Mythia. She narrowed her eyes. “No. Nothing.” She glanced quickly away from his penetrating stare and hustled over to the door. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt suddenly uncomfortable. She only wanted to speak to Ustrina. She wasn’t in the mood for lectures and speculating. “I’m sorry for bothering you all. I must try to get some sleep now.”
Titus grabbed her hands and bowed quickly down. “It is no trouble at all, Mythia. Please come by any time. Tomorrow after training, perhaps.”
Mythia nodded her head. The Doctrine watched her carefully, his penetrating blazing blue eyes never leaving hers. She looked away quickly.
Pileus smiled and bowed down. “I wish you a pleasant sleep, my queen.”
Mythia took in a deep breath and walked back out into the night of the Rejicio City. She wandered over quickly back to Bello’s house and slipped quietly inside. She lit her small floating fire and made her way to the hay stuffed bed. The wool blanket was still a bit damp, but she tossed it away, somehow no longer needing it.
The cool air did not bother her now. Her blood seemed to have changed with the gift of water, or was it a different change that made Mythia suddenly immune to the cold? She lay down and swallowed. The thought about training in a few hours’ time made her heart race again, so she took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts out of her mind.
Her eyes finally fluttered shut. Now that she was no longer trembling, she let herself sink into the lumpy bed and felt her breathing slow down as she fell into a deep slumber.
It felt as though only minutes had past when Mythia was shaken awake. She got up quickly, the prospect of what was to come immediately flooding through her and filling her with adrenaline. It was nerve wrecking enough just knowing she was throwing herself into this; now she had to keep her eyes peeled for anything strange to report to the Doctrine. How she was going to do that while undergoing intense physical training, she had no idea.
Ventus lit the torches and pulled on her black tunic and heavy chainmail, instantly taking on the proper look of a strong soldier with her cropped hair and defined muscles, her posture tall and straight, full of confidence and power. Mythia lifted the heavy pile of armor, awkwardly attempted to put it on, and collapsed into a bundle on the floor.
Ventus rushed over and pulled the armor easily out of her hands. “Raise your arms out in front of you.” Mythia stood up and did as told, her face flushing profusely from embarrassment. Ventus pushed the arms of the tunic passed Mythia’s hands and pulled it over her head, doing the same with the chainmail. The heavy interlaced rings of metal nearly knocked Mythia over. Ventus laughed; Mythia looked like she was swimming in the armor. “Don’t worry,” she said warmly. “You’ll fill it in soon enough.”
They went straight into the kitchen, the smell of a hot breakfast wafting through the air.
Bello was sitting at the head of the table, hidden behind her steaming mug. She quickly laid it down with a thud. “Eat everything I’ve given you, Mythia. You’ll need all you can get.”
Mythia glanced down at her plate which had a mountain of scrambled eggs, sausages, and four slices of buttered bread and raised her eyebrows. Ventus threw her a sideways grin and immediately began to chow down on her own huge heaping of breakfast. Now she understood what Ventus meant by "you'll fill it in soon enough".
Just as Mythia took a bite of sausage, Bello looked at her with a frown. “You’ll have to leave that here,” she nodded to Mythia’s head.
“The crown? I thought you wanted me to wear it,” Mythia responded, still chewing on her food.
“Eldrid, the Rejicio who will be training you, agreed to only let you join if you release your title while there. He also proposed you change your name, for the time being. He needs all his trainees to be treated and looked at as equals.”
Mythia lifted her crown from her head and placed it gently on the table. The small silver triangles s
himmered against the flickering torch light. She imagined the same crown placed upon a head of slicked back, jet hair, with eyes green as emeralds… Suppressing a shudder, she wondered what the king was up to at that moment; the images of her castle life flitting around her mind. She stared blankly toward the wall; her fork full of eggs hovering over the plate.
“Mythia,” Bello’s cold voice broke through her deep thoughts, her gray eyes studying her carefully. “You need to let go of the past. The kingdom is in shambles now. Nothing is the same as it was before… Focus on right now and on your training. Everything will come together soon enough.”
Mythia looked at her uncertainly but nodded her head and finished her food.
◆◆◆
King Tribus ran his hand through his jet hair, studying his reflection in the long, ornate mirror standing tall in his chambers. Try as he may, he could not get his hair to stay smoothed back for long. He would start off each morning in his usual, well dressed and handsome manner, but by the end of the evening his hair and attire were so ruffled up he appeared to have gone through battle.
He leaned closer to the glass and peered deeply into his own emerald green eyes. The blackness of his pupils were still fairly normal, as they usually were when we awoke in the mornings. But like his hair, his eyes changed in a strange way by the time the sun went down. His days were now filled with hours of confusion and black outs, with no idea as to how his appearance gets to be that way.
Could heartbreak really cause someone to go mad? Had he blocked out what had happened on the night of their wedding because of the pain it caused his heart, which felt as though it had been ripped out and torn to shreds by her hands? The last thing he remembered was bringing Mythia into these very chambers… the next thing he knew, he awoken to fire and she had gone. He had the blackened stone walls to prove it was not all just a dream, and a brand new bed and wardrobe had replaced the ones burnt beyond repair. What had caused the fire? All he knew of were the reports of her running out the castle covered in blood, fleeing Trigonus, and fighting the guards and knights that chased her using magic.
So, she had magic. And after many discussions and meetings with his court, it was believed that the gifts which awakened through out the kingdom following her departure must have been caused by something she did. There was no other explanation.
Could he forgive her of these most heinous crimes? He stared more deeply into his own reflection, searching desperately in his emerald eyes, so much like his own son’s but without the purity Regulus’s held since he was a tiny baby. His eyes staring back at him, he knew it in his heart. He still loved Mythia. The very thought of her touch made him ache with desire and all he wished, if he could wish for anything in the world, was to have her back by his side at his throne… perhaps he could make one exception against his own laws of magic. For her. No one else.
A paradox tore through his insides, they boiled and writhed around like snakes being boiled alive, and he felt a deep throbbing in his eyes as the blackness of his pupils widened in the mirror. A sneer curled upon his lips, his hands immediately ruffled up the smooth pieces of hair he had just fixed, and he laughed. A cold, cruel, laugh unfamiliar to his ears.
“You don’t love her, Tribus,” the Dragon King whispered, his voice like burning acid. “And she could never love you. Look at yourself… wasting away like a servant. Unkempt and unclean. You’re a disgrace.”
His face immediately turned terrified, pupils shrinking. “I will always love her,” Tribus gasped. “No matter what crimes she has committed. And I can not live without her… I can not bear this pain.”
“But she does not love you! She does not want you!” The Dragon King yelled, clutching hard at the sides of the mirror now.
Tears swelled in Tribus’s eyes, as a darkness of fear threatened to engulf him. “How do you know?”
The Dragon King’s sneer widened, his eyes turning into slits. “Because no one could love someone tainted and stained by something so vile as yourself. Someone who’s become… mad. Weak. Pathetic.”
King Tribus’s breathing sped up, he curled his hand into a fist then brought it crashing into the mirror. The glass shattered instantly, cutting his knuckles and spilling blood onto the floor. Red stained his cracked reflection. “Enough! I am the king of Terra! I do not have to listen to you.”
He turned away, wrapping his crimson cloak around his wounded hand. A voice floated around the room, seemingly coming from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time. “You will never get rid of me Tribus… I will always be a part of you now. Watching you and your kingdom burn like the witch you married.”
A high cackling echoed in the chambers. It didn’t matter where he turned, or how many mirrors he broke. Tribus could never be rid of the Dragon King.
◆◆◆
Their chainmail glistened against the many flickering torches, their shadows dancing behind them, as they made their way down the sloping hall and into the giant training cavern. Only around a third of the army was there, stretching and pacing around, waiting for training to begin. A strong man of average height rushed up to them from the thicket of people and glanced quickly around. His hair was dark and straight, parted in the middle and falling down his face outlining a pair of auburn eyes. He had thick eyebrows that suited him handsomely, and long sideburns that faded into a short, clean beard. He was tall and strong and held himself straight.
“Ventus,” he nodded at her curtly then turned to face Mythia. “And I believe I know who you are… but what alias will you have while here?” He walked right up close to Mythia, studying her carefully. She felt sweat beading down her skin, her heart skipping from nerves.
Now isn’t the time to be afraid, she thought to herself. She swallowed and straightened her posture. “You can call me Bestia.” The name of her father’s old horse came out of nowhere, but for some reason it felt right.
The man grinned. “Bestia… You can call me Eldrid. I will be leading your training group for the next two weeks.”
“What would you like for me to do, Eldrid?” Ventus asked, her face set with determination.
“You must report to your group. I believe they want you to help train the secondary recruits,” Eldrid answered. Ventus nodded quickly at Mythia before running away, her cropped hair swinging behind her, her sword clanging against her thigh.
Eldrid glanced sideways at Mythia. She found herself suddenly feeling alone, desperately wishing Ventus was able to stay with her. Eldrid jerked his head, motioning for her to follow him, and they walked down along the cavern, passing dozens of torches, until they reached the very end.
A group of soldiers who were clearly not quite as trained as the rest stood around in a cluster. Some of them were speaking excitedly to each other, others looked so pale and shaky they appeared as though they would be sick if they opened their mouths. Mythia felt like a mix between the two. She suddenly wondered if it was wise to have had such a large serving of breakfast.
“This will be your training group. They’re all Rejicio, but otherwise they are all beginners, just like you.” Eldrid turned toward the rest of the crew. “At attention!” He snapped his arms at his side. Everyone followed and stood in line. Mythia stepped into line with the rest and did her best to stand still and straight despite being unable to control a nervous tremor. Eldred now held his hands behind his back and paced in front of them. “Look around you. Those you see will be the same faces you will be seeing for the next fortnight and beyond. Together you will sweat, bleed, and most importantly, grow in the wisdom of battle. You may not be familiar with each other now, but by the end of your training you will become as one. You will be each other's right hand, trusting one another more than even yourselves, with every ounce of your life.” He glared at each one of them as though daring to prove him wrong. Mythia quickly counted twelve in the group, ten men and two women, including herself.
The flickering light casted shadows around Eldrid. His brown eyes so wide alert and awake Mythia c
ould never imagine him sleeping. Hundreds of soldiers were starting to fill up the cavern and forming into smaller groups. Some were already practicing with their swords, the sound of slashing metal echoing up to the huge ceilings. Others were drawing back bows and releasing arrows into rows of round white and red targets. Eldrid noticed where Mythia’s eyes were and stepped up to her face. She jumped slightly, and stared back at him, his eyes blazed with energy.
“None of you will be wielding a weapon until you have filled in the armor with the strength needed to wield one properly,” Eldrid said carefully, his voice strangely quiet yet carrying. Mythia tried to steady her breathing, to keep her face straight and focused, already desperate to prove her worth. He slowly backed up to face the rest. She let go of her breath. “Time for a bit of fresh air.”
Eldrid turned so quickly, so suddenly, that Mythia almost missed it. The group followed him swiftly behind, taking off at a full sprint to the opposite end of the cavern, at the very northern wall. He led them to a narrow exit; they clambered through one after the other, Mythia at the tail end. She tried desperately to keep up, already feeling out of breath and weak, as they ran out into the dark blue morning.
Eldrid wasted no time. He clamored onto the wall of the neighboring mountain and immediately began hoisting himself up with nothing but his own hands and booted feet. He climbed quickly with surprising strength and agility for a middle-aged man, as the rest of the recruits began pulling themselves up right beneath him without pause. Mythia barely got a moment to register what they were doing as she clutched the mountain wall and lifted herself up. She was the very last recruit, but the rest weren’t too far above her. The air was quiet and still as they all climbed, concentrating on their footing and hand placement as they made their way higher and higher.
Mythia: and the Awakened Beast Page 9