Finding Aurora

by Rebecca Langham

  A NineStar Press Publication

  Published by NineStar Press

  P.O. Box 91792,

  Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87199 USA.

  www.ninestarpress.com

  Finding Aurora

  Copyright © 2018 by Rebecca Langham

  Cover Art by Natasha Snow Copyright © 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at the physical or web addresses above or at Contact@ninestarpress.com.

  Printed in the USA

  Second Edition

  December, 2018

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-949909-67-8

  Finding Aurora

  Rebecca Langham

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  For my mum. She would have loved this story.

  Chapter One

  I DOUBT THERE was even one person in Grimvein who hadn’t heard the story of the sleeping princess. There were those who claimed she’d died a century ago and the curse was merely a story to maintain hope of her well-being. Amir and I knew better. Somewhere beneath the layers of magic and goddess-knew-how-many demonic guardians in Oldpass, Princess Aurora Rose slept. The problem was getting to her.

  “Looks like the map was accurate.” Amir tucked the frayed parchment inside his leather vest and then stepped closer to the colossal boulder in front of us. “This entry is well concealed. Most people would walk right by without realising.”

  I had to agree. We were deep within the forest to the east of Oldpass. The path we’d been following for over a week had disappeared hours earlier, replaced by mossy undergrowth and grasses. The sweet scent of drenched wisteria had been overpowering, though not as overpowering as the menacing darkness that seemed to swallow natural sounds one would expect to hear in such a place. No birds twittering. No dripping condensation. Not even so much as a rustling branch. If not for Amir’s orienteering skill and the importance of our quest, I’d have turned back.

  “Does it open the old-fashioned way, Highness?” I indicated the door with my chin. Embedded in the rock and camouflaged, the ingress was almost unnoticeable, but we could make out the bevelled edges.

  I sensed no magic surrounding the rock formation, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. I might have been one of the strongest casters in the five kingdoms, but I was still mortal. There’s only so much one person confined by flesh can know. Or see. Or do.

  Amir ran his hand through his shoulder-length black hair. His rather wonderful, lustrous, shoulder-length black hair.

  “Let’s see.” He pressed both his palms against the smooth surface, bracing his feet against the leaf-covered ground. Something whirred deep inside the boulder and clicked as though a latch had been released. He stepped back as the rectangular slab skulked off to the side, like a sword disappearing into its sheath. “It appears the answer would be yes, it does open the old-fashioned way. Sort of.”

  “I must admit, I had my doubts.”

  “As did I,” he replied, scratching at the stubble on his chin. In all the years I’d been acquainted with the prince, he’d always been clean-shaven, and the rugged growth on his face, as charming as it looked, seemed to irritate him more and more. “It seems too convenient there could be an underground passage that would take us beneath the outer walls.” His hands held on to the rock as he leaned forward, peering inside. His soft leather boots gripped his defined calves as he did. “It’s quite dark in here. Do you have that magnificent bauble of yours?” He withdrew from the opening and turned to face me.

  I gaped at him. “Prince Amir, the moonbeam stone is no mere bauble. And yes, of course I do. I’ll let the honour of first entry be yours.”

  He bowed slightly, his hand over his heart. “Why, thank you, caster.” He returned his attention to the opening. “In we go.”

  I followed him closely as we left the fresh air and crunching leaves of the forest behind. Inside, the darkness was thick and the air acrid. I slipped my moonbeam stone out of a pouch clipped to my belt. With a thought, I willed a soft yellow light to emanate from the stone.

  “Oh no,” I said. As though the enclosed room had heard me, the door behind us closed fast and hard.

  “It seems we’re trapped.” Typical Amir. Always so calm. He walked around the room. “But surely there is a way from here into the tunnel. This must be a kind of annex.” I admired the fact that no matter how hopeless or scared Amir might have felt, he was always able to focus on the task at hand, putting his feelings aside until a more appropriate time presented itself.

  “Mmmhmm.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing away the tension that had taken up residence there. I grabbed the small flask attached to my belt, just above my left hip. The water soothed my throat and afforded a distraction from the momentary sense of panic.

  “Talia, I need your help over here,” Amir said. His voice was steady, but the shade of his cheeks betrayed bubbling anxiety.

  “Yes, Highness.” I took one more sip of water from my flask, clipped it onto my leather belt, and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. By the goddess, that place was hot. I wondered if we might have found the first level of the underworld rather than the subterranean passageway into Oldpass.

  “That’s twice in as many minutes,” Amir said, gently elbowing me as I joined him. “I keep telling you to stop calling me that. We’ve been travelling together for over two weeks. The formalities are unnecessary by now, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back. As the Leading Caster of Grimvein, I’d been assigned to help Amir on a journey the public needed to believe he’d taken on his own. So far, my magical services had been of little use, aside from starting a few campfires when we were especially impatient to eat our evening meal.

  “Yes, Highness.” I bit my lower lip. “Amir. Sorry, it’s a force of habit.”

  “It’s all right. We have bigger things to worry about right now anyway.” Turning on the spot, Amir reexamined the challenging situation we were in, what with the apparent lack of an exit. He kicked at a stone. It hit the wall, the thud reverberating through the enclosed space.

  “Truer words were never spoken.” The moonbeam stone glowed a little brighter, reacting to my concern. We really shouldn’t have both come inside when the door yielded. What kind of a fool doesn’t think to keep one person outside in case the door—the mysterious door hidden deep within a forest—was enchanted?

  “How can I be of assistance?” I asked, raising the stone to see his face more clearly. The smooth, rounded rock had been with me for years. A gift from a dear friend who existed on the other side of the veil.

  “Watch.” He indicated a second door, barely visible, much like the first had been. Amir tried to grip the handle, the edges, and the hinges, but his fingers kept slipping, as though every part of it was two-dimensional, a reflection of reality without substance. “See? I can’t get a grip.” Worry lines stretched across the dark skin of his forehead.

  The closer we’d gotten to our neighbouring kingdom, the more attuned to his emotions I had become. One hand on his hip. The other on the back of his ne
ck. Sure signs that Amir was frustrated he’d been unable to solve the problem himself. It wasn’t arrogance or pride that drove his frustration, but rather a fierce independence he seemed desperate to cultivate. I couldn’t blame him. Amir was a prince. Very little of what happened in his life was of his own design. Though he was kind-hearted and, of course, wished to help free Aurora from the sleeping curse that kept her trapped, he’d looked so unhappy when his parents had first given him the ultimatum.

  Rescue Aurora, marry her, and bring our kingdoms together, or no longer be a prince.

  I was yet to discover exactly why he’d displayed such trepidation, but whatever it was he’d been feeling the day he’d been given his mission, it had only grown stronger since.

  I nodded as I considered the doorway.

  “Do you think you might be able to open it? You know, the not-so-old-fashioned way?” he said, planting his hands on his hips.

  “I’m not sure.” I stepped closer, handing him the moonbeam stone. I could keep its glow alive while he held it, though it took more effort than I liked to expend for something as simple as a light.

  Then again, not being stuck in a damp, humid room with no ventilation and no obvious escape route was also preferable. Especially when we were there to save someone likely to take Amir away from me. Every step we took felt like another step closer to destiny. To finding myself. To being happy. Because I was with him.

  If he found Aurora—if he married her as he was bound to do—it would all disappear.

  Get it together. Focus on the problem. Focus on the magic. Find a way through. I closed my eyes and looked toward the door with my second sight. The distractions of the physical world made it difficult to see what was really there.

  “What’s it like? When you look at the world that way?” Amir’s voice was hollow and deep at the same time, as though he were speaking to me from the other end of a long tunnel.

  His words made it harder to clear my mind, but how could I deny him such a simple pleasure?

  “It’s magnificent,” I replied. “The world appears to me in its true colours. Shades that are impossible to describe in our tongue.”

  I smiled and concentrated on the door. There was nothing of note. The whole wall appeared uniform, consistent in texture, shade, and density. It was thicker than I’d realised. There was no way I could physically penetrate it, not without considerable help. The kind of help Amir was ill-equipped to provide.

  “There’s no door there. Just a solid wall,” I said. “It’s an illusion. A sick joke left behind by the one who sealed the city.”

  “To give hope to anyone who made it this far,” Amir said flatly. “A cruel joke, indeed.” His fear pulsated around the edges of his aura in hot orange bursts. Breathing deeply, he calmed himself and the flashes of light dissipated.

  “Yes. This curse is a personal one,” I said. “The witch who cast it didn’t just want people to fail at rescuing Aurora. She wanted them to despair.” I turned in a circle, seeking out something, anything, that might be a way through. The door we’d used to enter was, at least, still viable. I could force it open with an incantation, but after how far we’d come and with how much pressure Amir was under to find Aurora, I had to do what I could to find a way forward.

  Nothing. There was nothing. Not even a crack in the maddening black walls around us. Shaking my head, I opened my eyes.

  The room felt even smaller than before. The air staler. Our breathing hotter and louder.

  “What do we do?” Amir asked, rubbing his neck. He seemed calmer, his question one of practicality rather than a fearful reaction.

  “May I have that back please?”

  “Oh.” He looked down at the moonbeam stone. “Of course.” He handed it over, and the energy in my body increased. Only a slight boost to my stores, but still, given what I needed to do, a necessary one.

  “I need to talk to Red.” I made my way to a corner of the room and sat, tucking my legs beneath me.

  “Red? Who—or what—is that?”

  I smiled as I thought of my friend. Her penetrating light-brown eyes. The maturity and strength of her voice. The comforting warmth of her counsel. “Red has been with me, in one way or another, since I came of age.”

  “She’s a spirit?”

  I placed the moonbeam stone on my lap, its soft glow throwing shadows across the unforgiving stone walls. “Yes.”

  “Someone who died?” Amir was always fascinated by the Other World. The place all beings inevitably encountered. For many, that only occurred at the end of their life, when their body no longer tethered them to this realm. For people like me, whose bond had persisted beyond birth, there were times we existed between worlds. I didn’t like to force a complete crossing, though. It was not only dangerous, but painful.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied. “She may have lived and died. Or perhaps she’s yet to be born. She could be a guide, destined to never cross into our realm. I really don’t know.”

  “She’s not very sociable? Didn’t provide her life, or death, story?”

  “On the contrary, there have been times where she’s come to me for no reason other than to discuss all manner of topics. At those times, it requires no effort on my part to see her, to hear her.” I shifted my weight, trying in vain to ease the discomfort that came with kneeling on such a hard, uneven surface. “But she doesn’t know if she’s lived. If she’s died. She doesn’t even know if she has a name.”

  Amir scoffed as he considered me. His umber eyes shimmered as they reflected the light of the moonbeam stone. “What kind of being doesn’t know her own name?”

  “It’s not her fault.” Red had been with me for nearly fifteen years. When even my parents were gone, Red had been there, supporting me, demanding nothing in return. “She’s an energy. A life force without a home. I imagine you’d struggle to remember things if you were in the same position.”

  His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. Suddenly, I remembered who I was speaking to.

  “Forgive me, Highness.” I looked down to avoid his gaze. I couldn’t be sure if my embarrassment was because I wanted, so badly, for him to see only the good in me, or because I knew I’d overstepped. I had no right to speak to the future king like that.

  Amir stepped forward and knelt in front of me. Taking my hand, he angled his head to force eye contact. His eyes were kind. Sincere. Safe. “There’s nothing to forgive, Talia.” He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. I should have enjoyed the sensation, revelled in it even. But I was numb. Perhaps preparing myself for the taxing spell I knew I’d need to cast.

  I cleared my throat and withdrew my hand. “Thank you,” I whispered. He moved to the opposite wall. He leaned back and slid down into a lotus position.

  “Do you need anything from me? To contact this energy?”

  “No,” I replied, squaring my shoulders. “Just don’t interrupt. Even if you think I’ve lost consciousness, or it seems as though I’m talking to myself, leave me be.”

  “Understood.”

  With that, I closed my eyes so I might better see the shadows that exist between the two worlds. I reached out toward the ethereal veil, the boundary around me like a damp web, a web I dared not touch without being invited to do so by one of the spirits. Not usually.

  Red? Red, can you hear me? I need you. Please.

  Chapter Two

  NOTHING.

  I’d hoped Red might hear me from this side, but it seemed I would have to reach further. I took a deep breath and straightened my spine. The back of my neck grew hot as I cast my energy forward once more, this time piercing the sticky web that acted as a warning to uninvited visitors. As the threads tore open, a shrill sound reverberated through my head. Another warning to keep out. I winced as I tried to shake it off, digging my fingernails into my palm. A trick my second tutor had taught me, it was a sensory distraction from the low-level attack on my consciousness. At that moment, I existed in two places. I was in the room with Amir, but part of
me was elsewhere. Somewhere. Everywhere. Nowhere.

  “What are you doing?” I sensed Red’s concern as she rushed toward me with the speed and ferocity of an eagle. Grabbing hold of my arms, she pushed me through the veil, returning the wandering part of my soul to my body.

  Amir sat in front of me, hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently as he called my name. His concern was both welcome and invasive. I wanted him to care. But I needed him to let things play out.

  I gulped in the air as though I’d been holding my breath. My ribs ached. My chest heaved. Coming home after an astral projection through the veil felt like being resuscitated after drowning.

  I shook my head as I struggled to speak. “Stop. I’m. Fine. Please.”

  Reluctantly, Amir returned to the other side of the room.

  I dropped my head back against the wall and clenched my eyes shut. Another pair of hands touched me. Red.

  She had my face in her hands, stroking my cheeks with her thumbs. “Shh. You’re safe. You’re back.”

  I nodded and concentrated on my breathing, on my heart rate. As my body adjusted to the reunion with my astral self, I opened my eyes. Red smiled at me sympathetically, her eyes widening as though she was happy to be with me again.

  She’d come. She’d seen me the second I had stepped past the boundary and pulled me back through.

  “Why would you do something so foolish?” She dropped her hands to my lap where they took hold of mine. A familiar, electric warmth rose through my arms, a tingling sensation that only came with being touched by a spirit I trusted.

  My knees throbbed, so I repositioned myself, resting against the wall and pulling my knees into my chest. Red sat beside me but kept hold of one of my hands.

  “I had to,” I told her, turning my head to meet her gaze. It had been months since she’d come to see me. I’d forgotten how rich and deep the crimson tone of her hair was, the beauty of the thick curls that reached for her waist. I’d spent many years wishing she were alive, that she could exist on this side of the veil, with me. It took a long time to accept we lived in different worlds and any chance I had of a meaningful connection with another person could only be found in my own realm. Not that I had any more of a chance of being with Amir than I did with a ghost only I could see.