House of Blood and Bone

by Kimberley J. Ward

  “There’s no magic in this,” Nessa blurted.

  Pharawynn tipped her head. “You’ll find that a great many plants contain medicinal properties that are on similar levels to some lesser spells.”

  Nessa looked at her tea with a newfound sense of respect. “Why waste your energy on performing a spell when you can get a plant to do all the work for you?”

  “Exactly. You catch on quick. I like that. I do hate having to repeat myself ever so much.”

  “As do I,” Nessa murmured, taking a sip of the tea before it grew cold. “So I’ll ask this only once more. Tell me everything.”

  ∞∞∞

  “I presume you know a little of how King Kaenar rose to power?” Pharawynn asked, handing Nessa a small plate that was laden with surgery treats.

  “Hunter and Orm have told me what they know,” Nessa murmured. “Plus, I’ve read a couple of history books.”

  “Pff,” Pharawynn waved a hand. “History books. History is written by those who have conquered, my dear girl, not by those who were defeated. It’s a warped version of what happened, no doubt. But alas, there is no helping it. Though their numbers are small, there are a few alive today who were there when Kaenar emerged from the dark mists, triumphant and unbeatable. They keep the truth alive.”

  Dark mists… Nessa frowned. “Already that’s a different description.”

  “See what I mean? So much of the truth has been shrouded by secrets and lies, hidden away by a king who wanted to bury what really transpired five hundred years ago.”

  “What does he want buried?”

  Pharawynn shrugged. “Who can be sure? There must be a reason behind such a long-standing subterfuge. A pretty good one, no doubt.”

  Nessa smirked. “And I suppose that out of all the people in the world, you’re the only one who knows anything close to the truth?”

  “Sadly, I can claim no such knowledge. I did, however, have an acquaintance who was there, all those years ago. He didn’t speak of it much. In fact, truth be told, he didn’t speak about much in general. He wasn’t one who liked to rub shoulders with people like me. He was a firm believer that anyone who wasn’t an Old Blood wasn’t worth his time.”

  “He kind of reminds me of someone I know.” Used to know, Nessa corrected herself.

  “Anyway,” Pharawynn continued, nibbling on a pastry. “During one of his better moods, he grew curious about some of my wares. Our conversation turned towards spirits and summoning. He gave me a tantalising glimpse into what happened long, long ago.”

  “And you, being a curious soul, decided to do some research?”

  “And said research is still ongoing.”

  “But I’m guessing you had a few more tantalising glimpses along the way?”

  “Something of the kind. In my research, I kept noticing a simple reference. It was unassuming, barely more than a couple of words here and there. But slowly, I began to realise that the stories we’re told when we’re young are false. Pivotal bits are missing.”

  “Like what?” Nessa asked eagerly, leaning forwards, hoping, praying, that this was her chance to uncover if the king had a secret weakness, one that he had tried to hide for centuries. Would she be able to untangle the dark web that was his rule, his power, and prevent what happened at Arncraft from ever happening again?

  “Tell me what you know about the king’s conquest,” Pharawynn instructed.

  Nessa racked her brain, a small crease derived from concentration forming between her eyebrows as they pulled together. “Only that an army came from the west, invading the lands and decimating the ranks of all the Riders there at the time. The army was unbeatable, and yet, just as they were about to defeat the Riders, they left. Never to be seen again. From the destruction, a new Rider rose, a Rider who made use of the chaos and the weakened ranks of his fellow Dragon Riders. He took the crown for his own and has ruled the Twelve Kingdoms ever since.”

  “Nicely recited,” Pharawynn said, nodding approvingly.

  “Are you saying that’s wrong?” Nessa wondered, sure that she had summarised everything correctly. “Or did I miss something out?”

  “It’s not all wrong, but it’s not exactly right.”

  “Oh?”

  Pharawynn licked her lips, contemplative. “Most tell it just as you did. A few, though, mention something else: an eerie mist that appeared and disappeared alongside the invading army.”

  “An eerie mist?” Nessa whispered. A cold shiver crawled over her skin like the fine skitter of spider legs. The sound of cloven feet upon the cobbled street echoed in her head, and once again it felt as if unseen eyes were upon her.

  “Just so,” Pharawynn murmured, her gaze far away. “It’s mentioned in a couple of old journals I happened across, although they lacked much in the way of detail. When I discovered this, and when I thought back to when I was younger, I could faintly recall others mentioning it in passing.”

  “And what,” Nessa cleared her throat, finding it suddenly dry despite sipping her cooling tea, “is the importance of this mist?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet,” Pharawynn admitted. “You have to understand, I only came across my knowledgeable acquaintance six or seven months ago. Maybe eight… So I haven’t had a great amount of time to investigate the handful of leads I’ve gathered. Though, saying that, I do have a strong hunch that the mist was somehow connected to the mysterious army.”

  “Really?”

  “I find it too coincidental that this ‘mist’ appeared and disappeared the same time as the army did. An army that not only bested the Dragon Riders in their golden age, but also the Old Bloods, creatures that were born of magic.”

  “The Old Bloods were involved in the war?” Nessa had heard no mention of them. If she hadn’t met one herself—one and a half if you included Orm—then she would have easily believed that Old Bloods were nothing more than a myth or fable.

  A myth or fable, that’s what they had been relegated to throughout the majority of the population. They had become little more than characters in stories parents told their children at night. They told legends of winged men and fanged woman, beings who breached the line between human and creature.

  “Of course they were,” Pharawynn sounded surprised. “This is their world too. Why wouldn't they defend it? They were, after all, as powerful as a dragon and its Rider, if not more.”

  A part of Nessa was still trapped in her memory of Arncraft’s last moments, the tide of flame and darkness about to engulf it, and she couldn’t help but recall how powerful the king had been. “What kind of army could withstand the combined strength of the Old Bloods and the Dragon Riders?”

  “Nothing human, that’s for sure.” Pharawynn finished her pastry and licked the tips of her fingers, savouring the fine, sugary coating. “The impression I’m getting is that the army wasn’t of this realm. They came and went with the mist. Like it was a door, an opening to elsewhere. A place that only those creatures could go.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “There are no mentions of them arriving or leaving by any other method. No boats, no other vessels. They came and went like they were a part of the mist itself.”

  “That’s an alarming thought.”

  “It’s certainly an unsettling one.”

  “But how does any of this tie in with Orm and the block on my powers?” Nessa nibbled her iced bun, hoping that, by having something in her stomach, it would stop rolling with nerves.

  “Ah. Yes.” Pharawynn’s eyes brightened. “Intriguing as the mist-shrouded army is, that’s probably something better discussed another day, eh?”

  “Possibly.”

  As nice as the iced bun was, it was doing nothing more than feeding her unease, making her feel sick. Nessa set it aside, deciding to stick with her tea. At least that helped a little with her troubled thoughts, helping to put them into some kind of order.

  “Since we’ve got this far, I going to presume that you know about the time after Kin
g Kaenar ascended the throne, when there were a few years of turmoil as a handful of Houses fought against him and his corrupted followers.”

  Nessa nodded. “But the rebellion ended when King Kaenar destroyed House Fæger.”

  “Indeed. House Fæger was at the helm of the fight against the king. He knew that, without them, the fight would be easier to quash. He hunted them down, sparing no one. No man, woman or child who had so much as a drop of House Fæger blood in their veins was left alive.”

  “That must have been so awful,” Nessa murmured softly, hardly able to bare imagining what that family must have endured. It must have been horrific, years of war and anarchy, bloodshed and pain, and then to be betrayed by someone you had fought side by side with, a fellow member of a House and Dragon Rider. To see your children slaughtered by someone who had once been your friend…

  “Mmm. Soon after House Fæger was snuffed out, the other Houses quickly fell into line. Any surviving Dragon Riders either swore fealty to Kaenar or were executed and replaced.”

  “Even with fealty,” Nessa mused, “the king’s first band of loyal Riders didn’t last longer than a generation.”

  “Read that in one of your books, did you?” Pharawynn chuckled darkly. “Yes. King Kaenar hasn’t lived this long by being unsuspicious. Those first few Riders who joined him had already broken the vows they’d taken upon initially joining the Dragon Riders. Who’s to say they wouldn’t break the vows they’d sworn to him? History claims they met their ends due to accidents and warfare. But we know history can be manipulated, eh?”

  “I guess history would have to be manipulated. It would be hard to get loyal followers if they feared they’d be murdered if they set as much as a toe out of line.”

  “Those poor, traitorous bastards.” Pharawynn shook her head in mock shame. “In any event, they got what they deserved, if you ask me. The world has no place for oath breakers, especially not ones who abuse their powers. Anyhow, they were swiftly replaced by Riders more readily controlled, and the king began his new campaign. He sent out his minions, ordering them to find Old Bloods. He put out rewards for anyone who either killed or helped aid the capture of an Old Blood and dealt out extreme punishments on anyone who was found harbouring one.” Pharawynn sighed. “It was with surprising swiftness that humanity turned against the Old Bloods. Hunting them, slaughtering them without pause or mercy. Old Bloods met their ends or became very adept at keeping to the shadows, hiding in the corners of the world or in plain sight, disguised, forced to pretend that they were something other than who they were.”

  “At least there are some who survived,” Nessa murmured, a deep, aching sadness filling her bones, her soul. “At least they’re not gone completely.”

  “Oh, they’ll never be gone,” Pharawynn said with quiet confidence. “Not really. Their legacy will continue. You and your friend Orm are living proof of that.”

  Nessa’s eyebrows rose. “We are?”

  “Of course you are,” Pharawynn laughed boisterously, wiping away tears of mirth with the pad of her thumb. “Oh, my sweet, little Rider. You yourself are an Old Blood, a full-blooded one at that. I do believe your friend Orm is a halfling?”

  Nessa gave a reluctant nod, little more than a slight dip of her chin.

  “Well, there you have it. The world has a couple more Old Bloods than previously assumed. Maybe times are changing. Maybe others will emerge from their secret places, shrug off their disguises. Maybe the king’s campaign against your kind hasn’t been as successful as previously believed.”

  “My kind,” Nessa said, disheartened. “I don’t feel like I’m one of them. Every time I look in a mirror, or see my reflection, all that stares back is a girl. A very human, very average girl. If I didn’t have the Rider’s Mark wrapped around my wrist and hand, then I’d think that I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Being an Old Blood is more than having fangs and pointed ears…”

  “Or wings,” Nessa added.

  “Or wings. Or tails. Or fur in weird places.”

  Nessa’s eyes widened. “Fur in weird places?”

  “When I was your age, I may have had a brief liaison with a handsome beast of a man.” Pharawynn frowned. “Turned out he was a bit more animalistic than I had anticipated. I don’t just mean passion-wise either.”

  Nessa didn’t know how she felt about that revelation, but there was a mixture of gross fascination and a certain level of disgust. She wasn’t sure if she wanted more details or to forget that Pharawynn had disclosed such a thing to her.

  “If…ah…” Nessa searched for a way to steer the conversation away from such a personal subject “… if there’s more to being an Old Blood than physical attributes, what else is there?”

  “Oh, I don’t really know.” Pharawynn flicked a hand like that revelation wasn’t a ground-shaking one for Nessa.

  Nessa turned towards the older woman, dismayed. “You don’t know?”

  Pharawynn rolled her flint-coloured eyes, “There’s more to being an Old Blood, no doubt. But seeing as I’m not one of them, I’m not exactly privy to their secrets.”

  “Their secrets?”

  “Creatures who are being hunted to extinction don’t live long by telling everyone about every little thing about them, now, do they?”

  Nessa begrudgingly saw the sense in that. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.”

  “Seeing as you’re an Old Blood, maybe you should take that idea under consideration.”

  “It’s not like I’m running around shouting that for everyone to hear,” Nessa said with a scowl, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her arm warmer.

  “I’m just saying that you should be careful, that’s all.”

  “I am being careful. I can’t help it if people like you know, can I?”

  Pharawynn grinned. “No, I suppose there is very little you can do about that. At least, right now.”

  “But I’ll be able to?”

  “Of course. How else do you think other Old Bloods remain secret?”

  Nessa bit her lip with nervous thought. “Magic?”

  “Yes!” Pharawynn almost jumped up with joy, shaking the settee. “Magic. You are a creature of magic. Think of all the possible things you’ll be able to do in just a short while. Think of what you might even be able to do now.”

  “But I can’t do anything. The mental bl—”

  “The mental block,” Pharawynn cut her off. “Yes, yes. That is a trifle annoying, but there are ways around it.”

  Nessa’s voice sounded small, even to her own ears. “There are?”

  “Of course.”

  Nessa was completely baffled, and it must have shown on her face for Pharawynn sighed and muttered a low “Blimey, even Sissy knows more about magic than you”. She reached for the teapot and topped up her little glass. Then, taking a measured sip, Pharawynn shifted and crossed her legs, one knee over the other. She arranged her long skirts and sat with her foot bouncing with contemplative energy.

  “When an Old Blood comes of age,” Pharawynn began, “it’s viewed as a transformation. Their power bursts forth with great ferocity, like a moon turning into a sun. It changes them, inside and out.”

  Nessa clung to every word, hoping that it would be happening to her soon, hoping that she would be transformed into something more than just a girl, a hollow girl with no memories and no powers.

  “When this happens, their power is raw and untamed, and often hard to contain until they’ve learnt how to reel it in, how to control it. Of course, this is a somewhat hazardous time for them.”

  “Nice way of phrasing it.”

  Pharawynn cast Nessa an amused grin. “Naturally, in the last five hundred years, they’ve come up with ways of protecting themselves, should their power pose a risk. Usually, they’re able to control it pretty quickly. You know, the threat of the king or one of his Riders slaughtering them is a pretty good motivator. However, in rare circumstances, the strength of their magic is too much for them to rein in quick
ly, so they are forced to lock away their magics.”

  Nessa’s brows pulled together. “Lock away their magic? How is such a thing possible?”

  “With a mental block,” Pharawynn answered simply. “It’s like a wall within your mind, built between the planes of conscious and subconscious thought. This only works when the magic is new, the user young. Depending on who builds the wall and their skill, it’s still a tricky thing to do successfully. There are a number of other things to take into consideration.”

  “Such as?”

  Pharawynn shrugged a shoulder. “The strength of the so-called wall builder and their knowledge of these things are greatly important. But they also need to be aware of how strong the recipient is; otherwise, the mental block can be too weak and lead to a flare out, which is incredibly dangerous. Time is also a factor. Sometimes, an Old Blood’s transformative ‘coming of age’ is a slow process, their power emerging over months, sometimes even years, showing itself in brief, sudden bursts that gradually increase in strength. Then bam—” Pharawynn slapped her hands together, making Nessa jump, “they burst forth for all to see.”

  “How will it be for me?” Nessa wondered, racking her brain for any kind of memory, any kind of hint or clue. Had her powers already started to show themselves and she simply couldn’t remember? Was that why Shadow had placed a mental block upon her, to stop them from being detected? Was he…was he trying to protect me? But why would he do that? And why had he also squirrelled away her memories? “Am I undergoing a slow ‘coming of age process’, or is it just going to happen all at once?”

  “It’s hard for me to say, my dear Rider. I have only had the privilege of meeting but a handful of Old Bloods in my life.”

  Nessa had her doubts. Lies could be so easily mixed with truths to form an indecipherable concoction. “If that’s true, then you seem to know an awful lot about them.”

  “What can I say?” Pharawynn winked. “I’ve done my research. Besides, all magic users must be cautious. It’s not just Old Bloods who face the king’s wrath. Strong magicians and sorcerers have met the same tragic fate after being mistaken for an Old Blood. You have to remember that the king’s men aren't inclined to ask questions. There are never any trials or official executions. Those are only reserved for people accused of hiding or aiding a suspected Old Blood. Even then, the trials are short and only for show. It’s a form of self-preservation, us spellcasters knowing about the Old Bloods and their powers. It helps to keep us safe. Magic users need to stick together during hard times, even if they don’t like it or they don’t want to. Some of the older generations of Old Bloods may despise mere mortals like me, but that doesn’t always stop them from creating little half-breeds every now and again.”