“I’d have to say,” he paused to think. He had a way of walking with his hands behind his back when in thought. It was timeless, classic. “I’ve actually taken to Agatha Christie as of late.” Just what I would expect, honestly. “Although I’ll always have a spot for Mr. Holmes in my heart.”
Following the man down toward the village, I could see more detail about the place. The town as a whole wasn’t all that big. It was arranged in a square-like layout, with no more than ten buildings along the edge to greet us. Of these buildings, Dune pointed out which ones were homes and which were shops. As we stepped onto the brick pathways that were covered in rotting vines and moss-cloaked dirt, the houses were fewer and the shops more. Street by street, Dune took us through the village that must have housed about three hundred people at once. Each little building was made from the same dark gray stones, the same thick, murky glass windows. They all had chimneys, they were all square. Some of the front doors had decorative embellishments, but some were plain. Many of the houses, though, were missing certain fixtures, including the door altogether.
“It’s a lot like Frostmoor,” Elliot spoke quietly to himself. Observing the craftmanship as we passed through the village with no noise besides our footsteps.
“It’s a lot like Skye Sorn,” Caleb added.
“When was it built?” I asked.
Dune, who was leading the way, several feet in front of us, said, “It’s been so long, I cannot compare my time with yours.”
“Before electricity,” Charlotte eyed me as she pointed to the lanterns that hug outside of each building.
“Long before,” Dune added. Further into the town, the buildings were spaced out a little more, giving room to an area that resembled a park. The space around the park was lined in stones, the pathway marked out by tall lanterns every twenty feet or so. And in the center of this park, in the midst of the mangled bushes and thorns and dried flowers, stood a dying tree. Bent over as if it were weeping, this tree was withered to its core, decrepit and oozing sap that smelled like dead animals. Dune got as close as he could, avoiding the sharp, curled tips of the brush as he got to his knees. We were standing back, watching him as he lowered his head, taking in the sight of a powerful man readying to pray. “Mother?” he spoke. “Mata, il bam halem.”
BLACK BLOOD
“It took you long enough,” Sanne’s compelling, silky voice flooded my ears. We all turned to see her, more beautiful than ever, standing behind us with a basket of fruits. She had a filling smile come over her as Dune got to his feet and embraced her.
“I have missed you,” he spoke graciously.
“And I you,” she looked up to him with a shimmer in her eyes. “And look at you,” she said to me, reaching out her arms to take me in. I went straight to her, feeling the realness of her while questioning if I was again in a dream.
“How are you here?” Caleb asked, mouth open, brow crinkled. “Didn’t you—”
“Die?” she finished. “Well, yes, you would call it death, I suppose.”
“Did Lorcan…” I didn’t really want to know, but I had to ask. Luckily, Sanne started to laugh.
“Oh, that man hasn’t killed in quite a while,” she shook her head. “No, my dear Lady,” she touched my arm for comfort. “Lorcan tried to speak with me—about you—but I was tired. I knew what was coming, and I knew I needed to be ready.”
“You took your own life,” Elliot gathered.
“I did,” she nodded. “I went to speak with him about what he was planning to do with you. I advised him to be cautious, that he was interfering with something greater than his own desires,” she said as she set her basket onto the ground, pulling out a rounded, dark purple fruit that had strange bumps speckled over its skin. “When I realized he was too focused on his goals to see the danger, I decided to let him witness it on his own.”
“Are you talking about Cole?” I asked.
“I’m talking about it all,” she passed by me with her wise gaze, then stepped over the thorns and moss until she was about a foot from the tree. “The prophecy, the stone; Lorcan needed to know how real it was, and that he was about to cause a massive hiccup in the universe.”
Elliot, as we watched Sanne rip the fruit open with her hands, spreading the juice over the roots of the tree, questioned Sanne’s motives. “Did you know the outcome of Lorcan’s actions?”
“I did,” her eyes following the flow of purple juice as it spattered on the ground and against her bare feet and ankles.
“And you decided to let it happen?” I could hear the rage in his voice. I knew what he meant, though. I died at the hands of a mad faerie who grew scared as flames engulfed his home. I died while pregnant with our daughter. Elliot had every right to be angry, but he was missing the point.
“If I hadn’t gone there, if Sanne had stopped Lorcan from what he did,” I put my hand on Elliot’s arm to calm him down, “then we would never have been able to perform the revoking ritual.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, rudely, of course. “And all this would be nothing to us. And we’d be sitting at home with Amaya, drinking hot coffee, eating pastries… we’d be happy.”
“Aren’t you happy?” I asked. This was a conversation for another time. Just, shut up, really! “You seem happy,” I was second-guessing myself.
“Of course I’m not happy, Irene. I’m coping.” His words hit me like waves. “I’ll be happy when this is over. When you and I can lead our legion. Raise our daughter.”
“But this is how we lead our legion,” I argued, polite as I could muster. “Don’t you see? This is the reason for the legion. I would never have been able to escape my fate as the temple for the revoking, you know that. I have a purpose; I couldn’t just walk away from this for quiet mornings and coffee.”
“I had a purpose, too,” he spoke softly. “I had what I needed, and I can’t help that it was different from your fate,” he finished with a bit of sarcasm. And a bit of smoke.
“Elliot,” I felt my neck tighten. “I want to talk about this later.”
With a deep breath, as the smoke retreated, he shook his head, “Whatever you want, my Lady.”
As he stepped away from the park area and back into the village, I faced my sister and caught her uncertain glare. I had rarely seen her scared; I don’t think I’d ever seen her nervous. But right then, she was entirely out of place.
“Tell me how we find Nerissa, please,” I asked Dune, speaking as apathetic as I could. If I would let the anger or the fear surface, I’d be of no use to my friends.
“I’ll ask my mother for guidance.”
“Your mother’s a tree?” Charlotte perked. I rolled my eyes. “Okay, sorry.”
“Walk with me?” Sanne came and leaned into my sight. I nodded. “I wish this place didn’t look so gloomy,” she told with a sincere smile.
“Dune said after the stone is put back where it came from, Isle Lore will be restored. Is that right?” I asked.
Sanne agreed, but she had a pressing thought that kept her eyes to the pathway between the buildings. Walking at her side, I peeked into the windows as we passed by. A little furnace, a table, a bed. The village was stunningly simple, like a lot of the medieval villages of old Europe. Like a fairy tale. And even though this simplicity represented the entirety of the village, with no grand castle perched on a hilltop to keep watch, it wasn’t beholden of poverty like I first gathered. If I truly compared it to medieval Europe, to the villages in my favorite stories and films, it would be the part of the kingdom where people starved, the part where parents worked all day and all night, where children didn’t learn the things they needed to know. Somehow, though, I got a different feeling about the place. That, maybe, the simplicity was just normal in their world. That the lack of conveniences and luxuries was a good thing.
“The Elysian stone has a wonderful history, you know,” she told, capturing my attention from the neighboring shop. “Have you heard the tale?”
“About the faerie an
d his forbidden love?” I checked.
Sanne smiled, saying, “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?” I wondered.
“There is,” she smiled, taking me out from the buildings and toward a walkway and a dried-up creek. The iron gating and the little bench were there, just like the dream.
“It is real,” I whispered. “This better not be another dream,” I faced her, demanding clarity. “Tell me it’s real.”
“It’s always been real,” she nodded, sitting on the bench and overlooking the muddy trench. “You know of the faerie, and her love for the mortal bride of a prince, yes?”
“A woman?” I spoke to myself. Catching Sanne’s curious eyes, I told her, “Cole said the faerie was a man.”
She laughed quietly. “After so long, I suppose the tale would change a little. Did he mention the dragon?”
“No,” I shook my head.
“Well, it’s a long story, really—much longer than I believe we have time for. But I will say this, the enchanter who crafted the precious stone…” she paused and crossed her arms. Looking out over the landscape, the woman’s eyes glossed over. “He was my son.”
My brow lifted. I had so many questions, but the sudden shriek of terror that came from my Lord stilled me to my core. I got up from the bench slowly, gripping the rusted metal for stability as I listened to the echoing cries of deeply inflicted pain. Grunts, demands, screams, growls… I went quickly to the place where I had last left Elliot, the sounds growing muffled, the air feeling cold and stale. And, as I ran through the alley, turning a corner sharply, my hands pressing to the molded bricks, my feet sliding in the moss and mud, I found myself staring eye to eye at Markus. I gasped, catching my breath in my throat as I put up my hands in defense. He didn’t touch me, though. No, instead, Caleb grabbed my arms from behind and pushed me to my knees. By the time I looked up to see that it was him, I was feeling weak and sore.
“Caleb?” I cried in a whisper. “What’s happened to you?” I asked him, noticing right away the burning red of his eyes. “Please, stop,” I begged him, gazing upward as he tightened his grasp on my arms.
“Don’t kill her,” Markus spoke to the faerie, calmly and without the slightest flinch in his brow. I sat there, in the mud, arched back to my heels, as Caleb quickly knotted something around one of my wrists. He let me go, let me fall into the dirt as the world around me began to blur. I could see the twine and the rash it had started to burn into my skin. I fell to my chest and rolled over to my side as I fell deeper into the haze.
“Elliot?” I mumbled, seeing him further ahead, on his knees, arms bent back by Julian. “Elliot…” my voice grew weaker, quieter.
“I won’t let you hurt her!” Elliot shouted at Markus, spitting at him as he neared my Lord. Markus wasn’t kind. Backhanding Elliot, the man drew blood. Elliot spit again, this time to the ground. I didn’t understand how Julian was stronger than Elliot, strong enough to hold him in place. I thought it might have something to do with Julian’s blaring red eyes, same as Caleb’s, but I couldn’t be sure. The sight might have only been an illusion from the hawthorn anyway.
I watched now, as Markus went over to the stone fencing and picked up a little knife. It was barely bigger than a parry knife, and I would have missed it if not for the glimmer it cast over my eyes. Shimmering like wet metal, the blade nearly glowed in the dark abyss of the Isle. Ashes still floated over us, the sky was still purely turbulent and boldly purple. Markus, nearing my Lord, had a smirk on his face that frightened me so badly I started to feel my bones shake. I could do nothing but watch. Watch and cry, screaming with a near-silent voice as Markus first poked the blade to Elliot’s chest with a pause.
“You believe this is an honor, don’t you?” Markus taunted Elliot. “That you’ve tried to make peace. Save the world from darkness,” Markus’ anger began to show as he leaned over Elliot while gripping the knife so tight. Speaking through his teeth, growling as he breathed, the man continued, “You’re a disgrace!”
Elliot caught my eyes from across the foliage, tears and blood on his face, his whimpers enough to make me feel the fear he was trying so hard to hush. Markus, though, hadn’t moved an inch. The blade tip set right to Elliot’s chest, Markus pressed the blade forward, pushing the item deep into Elliot as he screamed out in a deep roar. Wincing and gasping for air, my Lord stayed steady, the blade just beneath his heart from the looks of it. A quick tug and the spear came out. Elliot fell to his palms as he struggled to breathe. A terrible sound came to my ears; the sound of a collapsed lung, maybe.
While I watched Markus pace back and forth over the park area, my eyes caught sight of Bryn. She was just out of view, over near the tree that Dune had prayed to. The tree that Sanne had fed. And I wondered then, where had the enchanted siblings gone? I leaned so I could gain a better perspective, seeing then how Bryn was in complete control over Charlotte. My sister, head down on her knees, was in a trance. A fresh wave of fear rushed over me. Somehow, Markus was controlling Julian and Bryn. That meant, by effect, he was controlling Caleb, too. And though Caleb was a strong fighter, determined and driven, my sister, on the other hand, could put people to sleep. It was her I was most afraid of losing to Markus.
“This would have been easier if you’d just let her die,” Markus paced in front of Elliot. He spoke with such control, such coolness. “You would’ve mourned her, my son,” he continued, and Elliot responded with a deep, rumbling growl that I could feel in my fingertips. If he gained any bit of strength, I would need to be ready to help in the attack. While Markus continued to throw insults at my Lord, I picked at the twine. It took everything I had to keep from wailing at the sting. I bit my lip and could taste the blood along my teeth. But I tore, unraveling the item just enough that the haze started to lift. I could see Caleb’s shadow over me now, no longer blending into the mess of muck. He must not have been watching what I did, or, I was hoping, if he did, he’d be allowing it to continue.
With Elliot looking weaker than ever, his wounds not healing, his voice breaking as he simpered, I knew the blade was laced with hawthorn. Things weren’t looking good. If we didn’t stop Markus and the power he had over our legion, we’d die. Everyone would die.
I guessed that Markus was waiting for Cole to show up with the stone. It must have been Markus’ goal all along. Take the stone, get the power, rule the universe, so on. He had a few acts of vengeance to pursue, of course. All in all, it looked like he was wasting time until his real fight came along. Lorcan had wronged him. Getting the King back for the troubles he’d caused Markus could mean Samira’s life. She was the only thing Lorcan wanted, the only thing Markus had left to take. Lorcan had cruelly stolen the kingship from under Markus years ago. To leave a man stranded on an island for years, to have Elliot paraded around as the future Lord right in Markus’ face; so truly cold and heartless. Not that I was surprised.
I messed with the twine a little more, picking at the scraggly ends until the skin under my nails burned and bled. Finally, it fell off. I made sure to stay still as Caleb paced around me for a moment, finding a place to sit along the stone fence. I had tucked my arm beneath my chest, breathing in the pure white of my paradise as I let my strength build. The sounds around me clarified, the sights became crisp when I again opened my eyes to the world. And in the distance, along the horizon, came a swelling cloud and several bolts of lightning. I breathed to steady my heart, but my powers were rising. If only I could heal Elliot and have him help me defeat Markus. But how? We were several feet apart, with Markus in between. I would have to finish things myself. There was no other way.
Not understanding how, I knew if I took out Markus, it would free Julian and Bryn from his power. If there was only one thing I could do right then, it would be to kill Markus Pryderi. I closed my eyes once more, feeling my strength in every inch of my being, reaching out to the air and the atmosphere. The storm was near, raindrops were starting to fall. Heavy beads o
f sweet water, the scent of redemption on the wind. The ash fell and lifted, marking us in soot, wetted by the weeping sky. Seeing Caleb had his attention on something else, I slid to my knees slowly and tried to remain silent. My hands firmly planted on the ground, mud stuck beneath my nails and painted over my neck, I lifted my sight to Markus.
He underestimated me. I was a weak little princess. I wasn’t full-blooded.
He was wrong.
I shot to my feet and reached my hands to the air, gripping onto every bit of water I could sense. Water in the sky, water in the earth; water that fed the organs of everything living within a hundred feet of where I stood. It wasn’t perfect, but it had to be done. My sister, still in a trance, fell over to her side as Bryn collapsed. With Bryn’s consciousness gone, Caleb, too, fell quiet. I gripped my hands tighter and took a step toward Markus, who was now seeing that I wasn’t laying down anymore. His hand on his chest, the dragon had felt my strength, but we both knew he was stronger. He stammered backward, but then a grin slid over his lips and it made me stammer in my concentration. I faced Elliot, worried I had done more harm than good, but I found him to be just fine. Maybe it was because he was a water dragon like me, I couldn’t be sure. But Julian, he wasn’t as lucky. Clenching to his throat, obviously suffocating from the push and pull of water within his body, the dragon was drowning. Elliot, his eyes darting to my side, carried a sudden look of fear.
“Irene!” he shouted at me, still weak and sore as he cried out and grabbed his chest tight.
Markus had come for me. I wasn’t strong enough to suppress him, and I certainly couldn’t beat him in combat. I let him tackle me, hoping that I had at least saved everyone from the tyranny and the chaos. Over top of me, pushing my arms to the ground, the man laughed with a sinister grin that echoed deep in my ears. His teeth black like the tar under my body, his growl hovering in the staunch dry air. I closed my eyes briefly, wishing it wasn’t real, knowing it was.
Witherstone- Wings of My Legion Page 20