Daisy also stood. “I want to complete the mission I started last year.”
“Daisy,” Brux said as he raised himself from the dirt floor. “We completed that mission. Van retrieved the Coin of Creation. Van’s the Anchoress.”
“Well,” Daisy paused, and then asked, “What’s the new mission?”
Daisy looked each team member in the eye, attempting to extract an answer.
No one dared speak.
“There is one,” she said, “or you wouldn’t be here.”
“We’re going to the second seal,” Van said. “Uxa believes it’s cracked. Our mission is to mend it.”
Daisy looked like she was about to ask a question.
“Not the animal,” Van added.
“Ah,” Daisy said.
Brux shifted his body weight back and forth. “You need to get back. You need to rest. Heal from your ordeal of being stuck in the dungeons of Windermere for almost a year.”
Daisy ignored him. “Tell me more about the mission.”
“The seal binds the two worlds together,” Pernilla said. “The pressure caused by the negativity in Earth World might have cracked it.”
“And there’s the illness,” Van said. “There are so many demons being generated by the terrigens, a sickness formed. Right now, it’s confined to Providence Island, but it could seep through the crack and reach the Living World.”
Kopius moved protectively closer to Daisy. To Van, it seemed habitual.
Daisy appeared to reflect on this information.
“Mending the crack will prevent an outbreak in the Living World, and stop the demons in the Earth World from breaking through the seal,” Daisy said, to let them know she understood.
Brux had a close relationship with his sister. So close, he seemed to know what was on her mind.
“Similar to when the seal broke a thousand years ago.”
Daisy nodded. “During the Dark War.”
Kopius wrapped his arm around Daisy. “How do you know that? Your father?”
“Our father. Yes,” Daisy said.
“Having one who’s a philologist at the Royal Lodian University in Salus Valde, it’s a given that he taught us lots of Lodian-Balish history,” Brux said.
“How does the cracked seal fit in with the Dark War?” Kopius asked.
“The war was ferocious and bloody,” Daisy said.
Van squirmed hearing those terrible words coming from Daisy. It seemed odd and made a more significant impact.
“It lasted so long, it caused an imbalance of nature.” Daisy hesitated as if shaken by the blasphemy of anything disrupting the harmony of the natural world.
Brux took over. “The war started between the two most powerful tribes: the Lodians and the Balish. Balish didn’t care for the Lodians, the tribe favored by the Elementals and sought to conquer their land, secrets, and access to the portal.”
“The Balish were trying to rule more and more of the Living World,” Kopius said. “The tribes fought back. I know the basics about the war.”
“But did you know the Balish didn’t fear the Anchoress or the Lodians?” Brux asked. “The Anchoress heir back then was a queen, a ruler. Her powers remained legend and folklore.”
“All tribes had to choose a side,” Daisy said. “The negative vibrations were strong and quickly reaching the point where they were about to crack one, if not all three of the seals. This would allow the demons generated in the Earth World full access to the Living World—which we know eventually did happen.”
“Now it’s happening again,” Kopius said, answering his own question. “And there’s no war in either world to create negative conditions to crack a seal.”
Daisy glanced at her surroundings. “This tree acted as a resting place during the Dark War. A neutral place, a place of peace.”
“How do you know that?” Van asked.
“I can feel it.” Daisy gazed into the air as if seeing something they didn’t. “My connection to nature is telling me this is so.”
Van resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Another emotional basket-case. All the more reason to leave Daisy there and get the team moving.
“I’m going with you,” Daisy snapped out her reverie and said with gusto. “I’m joining your team. I want to help prevent the spread of this illness.”
Daisy was able to command a room when she put her mind to it. She stood firm in her decision, claiming that as a newfound healer it was her duty. None of them were able to talk her out of it.
By the time they had worked out the details about Kopius, who went on record against Daisy’s decision, and Daisy joining the team, dusk had set in.
Once the particulars were settled, they broke out rations and ate a dinner of saffron rice and beans. Afterward, Van decided to revitalize her spirit with a walk and some fresh air.
She twisted around before reaching the door-like opening in the root-wall, expecting someone to question her.
No one did, but Brux appeared torn about to who to care for: Van or Daisy. He chose Daisy, who continued to act a bit too familiar with Kopius.
Van gave them one last glance before she departed. The team looked like two couples: Kopius and Daisy; Brux and Paley. They gathered around a fire pit in the center of the nook in the base of a giant tree—Pernilla, the odd one out for once, looking as though she longed for a multi-trac to call Ken.
Van climbed down the terraced rocks, sure all of them were pathetic. Tomorrow, she would make sure they nixed the melodrama and refocused on getting the job done.
She reached the collection pond at the base of the waterfall.
In the waning light of the sun, Van glanced at her reflection in the shallow edge of the pond. She frowned and used her palms to smooth her hair, mostly out of habit drilled into her by her stepmother rather than caring about her appearance. She didn’t transport to the Living World to enter a beauty contest. She was there on a mission to protect her people.
Calmed by the steady rumble of the waterfall, she gazed at her reflection rippling with the waves.
Suddenly, the image blurred.
The reflection of someone else stared back her—a woman in her twenties with long, wavy golden hair.
Van gasped and blinked.
She looked again and saw her own reflection staring back at her.
Van closed her eyes and shook her head to stop her mind from playing tricks.
When she opened her eyes, in the water she noticed…blood?
She squinted. Wait a minute. That’s not blood.
Van reached into the pond and used her fingertips to pick up the flat, translucent, orange-red colored stone. A carnelian—was her last thought before her vision blurred.
A wave of dizziness overcame her.
She felt her hip hit the ground, followed by her shoulder before she lost consciousness.
Chapter 16
Van gripped the stone so tightly her knuckles ached.
Her trembling fingers were long and thin, but they weren’t her hands. They were a young woman’s, perhaps in her early twenties. A woman from another time. From a thousand years ago.
The woman was Zurial. One of the four warriors of the Dark War. Amaryl’s sister.
Van felt Zurial.
She was Zurial.
The fresh scent of pine filled Zurial’s senses. She was in the woods at the foot of Mt. Altithronia. Her mother Queen Cordelia had just retrieved the four Items of Creation from the Elementals.
She gently rocked back and forth on the hard seat of the horse-drawn carriage, alert and tense. Her thumb rubbed the orange-red carnelian worry stone.
Soldiers burst from the woods on horseback dressed in black uniforms with a red and gold crest—the Balish—and descended upon their wagon.
“Stick with the plan,” her mother cried.
Zurial’s heart raced as she leaped from her seat.
Her companions—her sister Amaryl’s husband Rowen and his brother Romet—also jumped from the wagon.
&nbs
p; The four royals who each concealed an Item of Creation had planned ahead of time to flee in different directions in case of a Balish attack. So Zurial dashed into the woods away from them.
She gripped her satchel to make sure she still secured the Cup of Life and hid behind a nearby tree to catch her breath.
Commotion coming from the wagon caused her to peek around the tree. She watched as her mother stayed put along with several of her men. They all unsheathed their swords.
The soldiers advanced.
Swords clanked.
Zurial’s knuckles turned white from gripping the bark as she watched a Balish soldier knock the sword from Cordelia’s hand. The queen’s men struggled for their own lives and were unable to help.
Her mother lunged to the side of the wagon, reached in and withdrew the Staff of Fire, her Item of Creation.
The solider stepped forward and raised his sword.
In one motion, Cordelia twisted, swiped the Staff and blocked him.
Zurial felt a jolt as she recognized the soldier battling her mother—the Balish Prince Goustav.
Goustav slashed and jabbed at Cordelia. He came down with a hard blow, the Staff tumbled from her hands. He swooped down and picked it up.
Goustav grinned as he held the Staff, his eyes wide.
Zurial believed her mother would be taken hostage, then her heart sank as she saw the glint in Goustav’s eyes. His grin, not one of victory, but of insanity. She knew that by merely touching the Staff, he had become corrupted by its power.
Goustav twirled the Staff and then stuck the tip into Cordelia’s breast bone. With little effort, he plunged the Staff through her chest.
Blood spurted from the wound. Cordelia’s eyes opened wide in surprise, then froze for a second right before the light faded, and she slumped to the ground.
Zurial felt an urgent need to go to Cordelia. She was a trained healer, between her knowledge and the power of the Cup, she could mend her mother.
She took a step, but someone clasped her arm, stopping her.
Her heart skipped a beat before the man said, “This way, hurry.”
To Zurial’s relief, it was Romet. He had returned for her.
“But, my mother—”
“She’s gone, and we will be next. Goustav has the Staff of Fire. Our men won’t be able to hold him off for long. We must flee.”
His grip tightened, giving her no choice but to go with him.
Branches swiped her face as she and Romet dashed through the woods.
They heard the rush of footsteps echoing behind them.
Romet paused. “Go!”
Zurial felt stunned. “What?”
“Go. I’ll meet you back at Lodestar.”
“No.”
The determined steps of Goustav’s soldiers grew closer.
“Go.” He turned his back to her, facing the direction of the oncoming soldiers, and raised his sword.
Zurial dashed through the forest. Branches snapped back and slapped her face and arms. Her eyes were wide open in terror, occasionally getting lashed with twigs and leaves, but she didn’t care, she just ran.
The muscles in her legs became exhausted, and she stopped to catch her breath. She gripped a tree and looked at her surroundings. She was lost.
The steady rumble of a nearby waterfall filled her ears. The sound comforted Zurial and, like a beacon calling to her, she followed it.
She entered a clearing—water cascaded down the side of a cliff surrounded on both sides by lush vegetation. Here, she could see Mt. Altithronia and determined her general location. But, afraid if she kept wandering she might run into Balish soldiers, Zurial decided to climb the falls to the enormous tree that grew at the top, and hide between its roots.
She wedged herself into the tree’s roots and found it made a cozy nook.
“This will do.”
She settled in and curled into a ball, hoping no one would find her, and, perhaps, to catch some sleep, the Cup tucked securely in the satchel around her waist. As she closed her eyes—she heard someone splashing in the base pond at the foot of the waterfall.
Romet!
Fearing he might be wounded, she bounded down the terraced rocks along the side of the waterfall.
A man lay face down in the shallow rim of the pond, dressed in a black uniform, dirty and bleeding.
Zurial’s healer instincts kicked in and, fearing he might drown, she gently rolled him onto his back.
He blinked as if to clear his vision.
“Am I dead?” he asked with a croak.
Underneath the grime, bruises, and blood Zurial could see the man was about her age and strikingly handsome. She felt the jolt of instant attraction.
She helped the stranger to his feet and managed to get him up the side of the falls and into the nook.
They were barely able to squeeze between the roots before he collapsed to his knees and passed out.
Zurial tore a piece of cloth from the hem of her robe and began wiping the blood and dirt from his face. The man’s cropped haircut provided a clear indication of his royal status.
The man opened his eyes, and Zurial jerked back, afraid.
“Where is my sword?” He tried to sit up.
Zurial placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. “It is here. But you are safe. There is no need for your sword.”
He blinked at Zurial as if taking in her words. “My name is Nick.”
To protect her identity, but also not wanting to lie, Zurial gave him an abbreviation of her real name. “Zuri.”
His eyes darted. “What is this place?”
“A mother tree, I think.”
The vision blurred.
When the images became clear again, Nick looked pale and sweaty. He lay on the dirt ground in the mother tree, seeming disoriented and semi-conscious.
He tried to lift himself.
Zurial gently held him down. “Stay still. You’re sick with fever.” She believed his injuries had become infected and he hovered close to death.
She continued to pat his forehead with a damp cloth. Warmness radiated in her heart as she gazed at Nick’s face. She barely knew this man, yet feared to lose him.
His breathing became shallow. He stopped fidgeting as he lost consciousness.
In a fit of desperation, Zurial grabbed the gold chalice, her Item of Creation—the Cup of Life.
She hadn’t been trained to handle its power, and, though a royal Lodian, she was not the Anchoress heir. Using the item could make her fall into insanity as the Staff had with Goustav.
Zurial said a prayer to the Creator and dipped the Cup into the closest water—the waterfall. Then, she placed the Cup on a nearby rock and cast a simple healing spell.
She left the Cup overnight, to absorb the beams of the moon, as she had learned to do as a trained healer. At first light, she grabbed the Cup and dashed back into the nook.
She placed it to Nick’s lips and poured the liquid into his mouth as best she could.
Immediately, his skin color improved and breathing stabilized.
The vision blurred again as Zurial moved Van through time.
Nick looked strong and healthy, even his abrasions and bruises had healed.
Zurial’s heart swelled with love for this man, but with this feeling came trepidation. By using the Cup of Life, Zurial had exposed her true identity to him as a Lodian royal. His enemy.
“You know who I am,” Zurial said, backing away.
His warm, brown eyes pierced hers. He nodded and stepped closer. “And you know who I am.”
“Why did you attack our wagon?” Her back bumped against the root-made wall as he advanced closer. “We were trying to bring a peaceful end to this war.”
“Following orders. Like now. I have orders.” He reached for Zurial.
She pressed her back against the wall as if to move as far away from him as possible. “What orders?”
He wrapped his hands around her neck. “To kill you.”
Van woke with a start.
Zurial had released Van from the vision before finding out what happened, but she knew the Lodian princess didn’t die then. She had gone on to marry the Balish King Manik.
The memory engram annoyed Van. She had been held captive by Zurial, forced to experience the pain caused by the death of the princess’s mother, Queen Cordelia. Then Zurial left her hanging with a feeling of both love and confusion for the Balish royal, Nick—a man who obviously tried to choke her to death.
By recalling the memory engram, Zurial’s love for Nick flooded Van. Then, she remembered something that made her no longer feel warm and fuzzy inside.
All she felt was raging anger.
Chapter 17
“There are more Items of Creation! More!” Van screeched as she rushed back into the nook.
The four holders in the Celestial Tower made sense to her now.
“The Coin of Creation was just the first one! Did any of you know this?”
“Well, yeah,” Brux and Daisy said in unison.
“I kind of figured based on the ancient stories,” Daisy said.
“Along with the plural translation issues in the ancient language,” Brux said. “And the four holders in the Tower. I thought you knew.”
She stomped her foot. “I wasn’t sure.” Again, Van wanted to throttle Brux. “Would’ve been helpful to get confirmation,” she said through gritted teeth.
Van took a breath and let it go. She updated everyone on her ability to receive memory engrams—messages and impressions of events that had happened in the past by touching an emotionally charged object—and relayed Zurial’s story.
“The carnelian worry stone belonged to Zurial.” Van slapped her hands against her pockets, already knowing the stone wasn’t there. “Dammit. I left it by the pond.”
“No matter,” Kopius said. “You got Zurial’s message. Not sure what it means—”
“It’s a warning,” Daisy cut in. “Cordelia decided to retrieve the Items of Creation to use to defeat the Balish. This is an incorrect use of their power. They’re only to be used against what the ancients call ‘true evil,’ not each other.”
“So, if the Cup’s magical ability is to heal and we can only use it against evil—does that mean we’re only supposed to heal evil people?” Paley asked. “Is that why Zurial didn’t go insane after healing Nick, the evil Balish soldier?”
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