Moyra instantly pushed away, her face creased with panic. Angst tried pulling her back, to no avail. He held out his hand to stop her from worrying, to let her know it was okay. In a flash, she swam away, and he looked around desperately. How would he breathe? His chest was already tightening. There wasn’t enough air to create a shield or bubble, and his lungs ached. Sea salt burned his wounded lip, and he dared not open his mouth even to lick it clean for fear of letting the air out. A cloud of blood hovered around his face. His chest heaved, filling his cheeks as he tried to rebreathe his own air. She was nowhere to be seen. He cried out with his thoughts, but Moyra didn’t reply. How far away had she swum already? Angst had never felt so desperate, so alone. There was nothing else to do, so he opened his mouth and screamed aloud.
“Moyra, help!”
“I cannot.” She sounded distant in his mind. “It is the blood. So hungry!”
34
Azaktrha
Rose tugged at her hair, sifting through the fine red strands over and over again. Her chest and throat ached from sobbing, but for the first time since being dragged from Unsel, she felt some relief. Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. The handsome stranger rested beside her with his legs crossed as they leaned back against the barrier. ANduaut listened attentively, silently, as she told her story. She’d spoken hesitantly at first, telling him how the princess had stabbed her, how she’d been drawn to Chryslaenor, and that it had killed the guards—which was when the tears began. She couldn’t imagine the story translated well through her wracking sobs—it didn’t even make sense to her! She explained that the sword had abducted her, made her sleep outside, and forced her to draw in the health of helpless victims. She’d been kidnapped and forced to ride on the back of a monster before jumping to her death. And then she didn’t even get to die.
It was a nightmare to relive, but as she purged the memories, muscles unknotted in her shoulders and face. Her tension was washed away by a heady feeling, like the start of a drinking binge. Still, she couldn’t help being disappointed that he didn’t place a calming hand on her thigh or pull her to his chest for a hug. He was so quiet she would’ve wondered if he were still alive, except that he stared at Creeper warily. Creeper affectionately moved closer as the story worsened, and she almost started petting him like a cat before coming to her senses and shoving him off her lap.
“That sounds awful,” ANduaut finally said, though his wide eyes clearly said, ‘how crazy is this woman?’
“Where are you from?” she said, hoping to take the focus off her, and learn more about the handsome stranger. “How did you get here?”
“I am of the Vex’steppe tribes,” he stated, watching her face closely.
Rose pushed herself away from the barrier, scrambling to stand.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip like a vise. “I won’t hurt you, Rose,” he said firmly.
“But, the tribes are dangerous,” she stuttered.
“Yes, we are,” he said with a disarming smirk that made her stop struggling. “But not to friends.”
She winced at that word, but it was better than being called enemy. Or lunch. Her entire life she’d heard that the Vex’steppe was filled with tribes of barbaric killers who slaughtered on sight and ate their foes. They were almost as dangerous as the Berfemmian, a thought which made her shudder. He released her, frowning at the bruises on her arm under his grip. Her skin was orange and blotchy and healed almost instantly as he stared with wide eyes. The healing reminded her of the hunger that always skirted around the edges of her thoughts. It was growing like an insatiable glutton. Her hand shook as she reached out to him, but she balled it into a fist and forced it back to her lap, unwilling to give up control. This man was delicious in so many ways she struggled between absorbing his health or stripping naked and hoping for the best.
“I’ve been brought here against my will, just like you,” he said, warily eyeing her hand. “This place is foreign and cold. I don’t even know where we are. Do you?”
“Not really,” she stated. “Like I said, I jumped into a large hole in the middle of the ocean.”
ANduaut’s face scrunched in confusion, as if he didn’t understand her at all. He was cute but seemed slow to grasp what she’d said; it was like talking to a plant.
“So this is what?” He rapped a knuckle on the dark wall over his shoulder.
Creeper hopped up and down, pointing behind them.
“Yes, we see it,” Rose said, wishing her friend would find somewhere else to be at that moment.
Creeper patted her leg with his webbed fingers and pointed at the wall. He squinted his eyes and covered his head for protection before saying, “Angst,” in her mind.
“Get out of my head!” she screamed. “You shouldn’t even know who Angst is! Stay out!” She kicked at debris on the ground.
Creeper scurried out through a doorway, his thin green arms flailing over his head in panic.
Her nostrils flared as she spun around to look at the barrier and saw nothing. She shook her head at the foolish thought that Angst could actually be in the ocean behind that wall.
ANduaut was looking at her like she’d gone crazy. She sat back down beside him.
“What?” she snapped. “You couldn’t hear the little creep?”
ANduaut shook his head.
“He can talk in my head, but I told him not to.” She tapped her forehead with a finger. “And apparently he’s been reading my thoughts, too.”
He shook his head again, like he didn’t understand or didn’t care. “I asked, what is this wall we lean on?”
“It’s a barrier that keeps the ocean out.”
“What?” ANduaut rolled forward and leaped away.
Laughter overtook her like a spring storm. It went on for minutes, uncontrollable and embarrassing, until her face hurt. She could barely see him through new tears, but he looked upset. She held up an apologetic hand that was mostly useless as she fought through waves of dying chuckles to regain control.
“You look like you got stung by a wasp,” she said, doing her best to fight another wave. “What was that? What are you so afraid of?”
“I can’t swim.” ANduaut’s eyes were still wide as they shot between her and the barrier.
This made her laugh harder, which felt so much better than the crying.
“If...if this barrier broke,” she gasped for breath, “do you think jumping away would help? That anyone could swim to safety with an entire ocean over us?”
“No,” he said dumbly, apparently irritated by her laughter. His eyes were dark, and he looked hurt.
She regained her composure, but wished Angst was with her instead—she could’ve teased him about this for days.
“I’m sorry I laughed,” she said as sincerely as she could. “It’s just...I’ve been through so much.”
The disdain left his face, and he nodded. “I understand.”
“What do we do now?” She sighed. “We’ve got to be here for a reason.”
“We should find shelter, in case more creatures come back,” he said, offering her a hand up. “Would you like to explore this place with me?”
“Yeah,” she said in a breathy voice, taking his hand in hers and not letting go.
Unsel
At the behest of a soldier guarding the entrance to the Queen’s Hall, Jintorich and Maarja entered the makeshift throne room. Jintorich could tell that the guards’ awkward stares were making Maarja uneasy—uneasy meaning that the soldiers were lucky to be breathing. His new friend’s patience waned quickly as the city unraveled around them, both bureaucratically, and physically. Cracks appeared in the walls and foundation as the quakes from the sinkholes approaching the castle increased in size and frequency. Every fifteen minutes they shook the resolve of each soldier and citizen in Unsel. Queen Isabelle may have signed over her crown upon death, but she was unable to imbue Princess Alloria with the respect and leadership qualities that Unsel required.
Two soldiers guarded a foot
in front of the queen regent’s throne while Vars stood to her right and a short, chubby man to her left. Jintorich was unable to hold back a squeak of surprise at the sight of Alloria, making brief eye contact with an equally stunned Maarja. Weary wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the young woman. She was the second-to-last breath of the terminally ill. A starving animal unable to escape quicksand. The first pawn sacrificed on the chess board. Her hair was thin and wispy, her breasts all but deflated and held tight in an ash-gray bodice that was as plain as a peasant’s. Her skin was taut and sallow, and the mischievous sparkle in her eyes appeared to have been stolen from her, held hostage beyond arm’s reach.
Alloria rested in an exhausted recline as if stricken by a wasting disease. Pity for the young woman stirred in him. The stress from leadership was taking its toll. Vars faced away in disgust, looking formidable in his full gold-leaf-embroidered armor. The man seethed with anger, ignoring their approach to stare at the back of the room. He, too, did not appear healthy, but hid much in pomp. The short man placed a hand on Alloria’s back to urge her up, but she shrugged him off. He looked from Alloria to Vars and sighed deeply before approaching.
“Thank you for your patience, ambassadors,” he said with a polite nod. “I am Wilfred, advisor to Queen Regent Alloria.”
He held out a hand to shake with both ambassadors, doing a respectable job of making it seem only slightly awkward when his hand was three times the size of Jintorich’s, and three times smaller than Maarja’s.
“The queen regent apologizes for the delay,” he stated in a worried voice.
They nodded in unison.
“The Captain Guard also regrets the altercation at the Wizard’s Revenge.”
Vars sniffed, but made no attempt to agree.
Wilfred continued. “We would respectfully—”
“Why are you even here?” Alloria said, her tone a deep pool of exhaustion and disrespect.
Wilfred sighed and closed his eyes as if summoning his reserves of strength.
“We are waiting for Angst, Your Highness,” Jintorich said stiffly.
“You and everyone else,” Alloria said with a shake of her head. “If my champion still lives, he will be making the entrance of his life.”
“Your champ—” Maarja began to ask.
“We will remain patient,” Jintorich interrupted, holding up a hand. “The safety of Unsel is his first responsibility.”
“Which is why I agreed to see you.” Alloria finally pushed herself upright. “Unsel doesn’t feel safe with either of you here. Especially her.” She pointed at Maarja.
“Your Highness,” Wilfred said in surprise, his face even paler than before. “This is not what we discussed.”
Maarja raised a thick, blond eyebrow and smiled. She crossed her arms, staring down the nervous guards. The soldiers seemed to start shaking even before the earthquake hit, both looking away in time for her to hide her own fears.
“We will defend ourselves when threatened,” Jintorich said firmly. “Your guards should not have attacked. Do ambassadors no longer retain autonomy in Unsel?”
“You involved yourself in internal affairs,” she said, now sitting up on her own.
In spite of her apparent exhaustion, she was still spry enough to counter. Coming from a woman who had only moments ago seemed near death, it made him wonder how much of what they saw was actually true. Was Alloria really close to defeat, or had she made a calculated retreat into waiting?
“After you continuously ignored us,” Jintorich said, blowing a tuft of eyebrow hair from his face, “we sought help on our own. You have done nothing but treat us with disrespect.”
“We are in the middle of a crisis,” she snapped, miraculously standing. “We have lost a queen, and could soon lose a kingdom.”
“You had wielders here who could have saved you,” he interjected.
“They were the first to evacuate,” she replied.
“They were practically chased away,” Jintorich said, pointing at a window. “But the people who are helpless have not been evacuated.”
“You don’t understand the plan,” she said.
“Do you, Your Highness?” he asked.
Maarja and the guards watched the argument as if viewing a duel, their heads darting back and forth while they held their breath in anticipation. He drilled arguments into Alloria like a badger sinking its teeth, not relenting until she finally went limp. She collapsed into the high-backed chair, her arm falling over her forehead. Without waiting for her attendees to even take note, Jintorich bounded forward. He moved quickly under the guards’ crossed pikes, which failed to bar his path, and hopped up onto her throne. The soldiers turned to pull him off, but Maarja rested a warning hand on the shoulder of each man. They both winced as she squeezed, forcing them to remain still. Vars did nothing other than watch, a hint of hope in his eyes.
“I don’t think you should...” Wilfred began, casting around the room with a look for help that was reluctant at best and fearful at worst. He spoke more firmly. “Ambassador, please. That is our future queen!”
“Who seems to be very ill, Advisor Wilfred,” Jintorich said, placing his small, white staff on the seat beside her. “I’m a physician. Let me try to help.”
“I don’t wish to be enemies, Meldusian,” Alloria said weakly.
“An argument does not make us enemies, Your Majesty,” Jintorich said with a smile. “My family enjoys a hearty discussion before every meal. But considering your condition, I should have been gentler.”
He rested stubby-fingered hands on her forehead, and took two of her fingers in his grasp. Jintorich jerked back in surprise, letting go and holding both hands up. His plume of eyebrows frowned around his dark eyes, and his ears stood upright. “I...I don’t understand,” he stuttered. He placed fingers on her wrist and shook his head.
She had tears in her eyes as he pulled away, and for the first time he saw genuine worry, and sadness. “As you can see, Ambassador,” she said quietly. “There is no help for me.”
“I...I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know where to even begin. How are you even here?”
“My champion keeps me safe and alive without even knowing it,” Alloria said, peering over her shoulder at Vars. “Far safer than you!”
“No!” Vars said in shock. “That’s why you gave him the ring?”
Alloria’s eyes were thin and calculating, her smile smug as she looked at the tiny ambassador. She reached to pick up his staff as if to hand it back to him. It flashed with light, making everyone in the room cover their eyes. She shook as she lifted it. At first the staff seemed to be a great burden, as if she were picking up a weapon too big and heavy for her wasting frame, but then the shaking became unnatural. Her lips pulled back as she bared her teeth in a grimace.
“Your Majesty?” Wilfred asked in concern.
“What is this?” she screamed, her eyes wide with madness. “What is this talking in my head? What is Albrostihl?”
“No!” Jintorich shouted, grabbing the staff and jerking it from her hand. He leaped back, holding the staff covetously as he moved out of arm’s reach. “You shouldn’t know its name. You shouldn’t even be able to lift it!”
A wildness had overtaken her as though released from a cage. She screamed and reached up with both hands, pushing against her temples as if keeping her brain in. Her eyes protruded, and her mouth hung open in a silent scream.
“You have no heartbeat, you have no warmth, and you were able to lift Albrostihl,” Jintorich said, his voice filled with more wonder than fear.
She looked at him, still holding her head, her eyes now resigned and begging for sanity.
“What are you?” he questioned.
It was too much for the young woman, and with a pain-filled scream, she ran from the hall.
“This did not go well at all,” Jintorich said, shaking his head as he returned to Maarja’s side. With an incredible leap, he landed on her shoulder and perched there, holding out his
staff defensively.
The soldiers seemed at a complete loss for what to do. Wilfred frowned in confusion. All eyes turned to Vars.
“It seems we should’ve had this meeting a long time ago. Thank you, Meldusian,” Vars said darkly. He pointed at the guards with two fingers and urged them to follow. “With the bitch gone, we’re going to do this my way. You two, with me. We’re saving Unsel.”
Vars and the soldiers rushed out of the hall, leaving Jintorich, Maarja, Wilfred, and an empty throne.
“So,” Maarja asked Wilfred. “Now that you’re ruling Unsel, what is your plan?”
35
Angst gripped his throat. He felt life passing quickly, and he was bombarded by memories, and regret. He wasn’t the one who’d borne the cost of becoming a hero. Heather had put up with so much, had supported so much. Despite their differences and struggles, he loved her and didn’t want to leave her alone. Cool water entered his nostrils as his lungs tried drawing in. He wouldn’t leave her alone. It couldn’t end this way. They were pregnant and not only was he a hero, he was going to be a father. He beat on the dome, working his way down to the edge, desperate to locate an entrance. Reefs and coral had grown around the dome, it had been there that long. He kicked in frustration, his pants catching on the rocky shoal. His head rolled back in frustration, and large bubbles of air escaped his mouth.
“It is so hard. I want to... I cannot help myself,” he heard in his mind. She appeared before him, squeezing between Angst and the dome, licking her lips hungrily. Her mouth was open wide, revealing rows and rows of teeth, as if ready to take a bite.
“Don’t do this,” he thought weakly. “Do you really want me to die?”
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