by Ross Turner
“So my old friend. Who do I get the pleasure of escorting through to see my father?” Kambeth asked, positively beaming. Zanriath opened his mouth to reply but Ayva cut him short and darted in between the two, nudging Isabel’s arm as she did so, casting her friend a grin that was the very definition of sly cheek.
“That would be me.” She said following her dash with a wink. “I must say you’re most honoured.” She continued, almost strutting as she linked her arm with his. Her exaggerated movements made his mouth drop and Zanriath jumped to save him with a firm pat on the shoulder and congratulations, raising an eyebrow briefly at Ayva who returned it with that same mischievous smirk she was so fond of.
Kambeth whispered hurriedly to a much shorter and plumper waiter behind him who scuttled off just as the large double doors opened in front of them, exposing the great banquet hall concealed inside. All the other guests had already entered and it was just the four of them left standing out in the chill of the settling night. It appeared they were to be the star attraction.
The fast pace of the day had swept Isabel along and only now did she have a moment to absorb it all. It seemed if she could not keep up with events, something would materialise in the form of a distraction and sweep her along until she’d had time to catch up. Did she have any control at all over her life? Perhaps not. She spent a pensive and gloomy moment realising that fact as she looked up to the blanket of stars above her. Just the four of them…
“And here we go!” Kambeth announced enthusiastically. Clearly his father’s wealth suited his lifestyle perfectly. Isabel found Zanriath’s arm and held it tightly. A loud voice quieted the other guests and introduced Kambeth and Ayva. They were met with a round of applause and several open mouths from the men amongst the crowd, who swiftly received firm nudges from their less than amused partners.
Though Kambeth did look rather more striking in his black tailored suit than he had done before, the stunning Ayva outmatched him at his side. Her blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders with a single black ribbon amidst it, matching her gown and illuminating her bright eyes. It was flattering to say the least, pulling in at the waist showing off her athletic and far from in between womanly figure, exposing almost too much, but not quite enough, for every young man in the room. It cut down into a dangerously low v-shape at her chest and trailed elegantly on the floor behind her. She was enjoying herself far too much, as was Kambeth with her on his arm.
The hundreds of revered guests sat in neat rows on either side of the hall were all dressed in their best, but each and every one looked down sourly as Ayva paraded through the hall, accentuating the swing of her hips and gladly taking her time to outshine them.
Finally, after a slow approach, she and Kambeth reached the opposite end of the hall and exchanged pleasantries with Kambeth’s father. Compliments were neither short nor lacking in extravagance.
It seemed Isabel and Zanriath were the final guests to make their appearance, with everyone else already seated inside and rumours circulating faster that wildfire.
“Coincidence?” Isabel asked Zanriath quietly as the guests inside settled.
“What do you think?” He replied. “You must realise that none of this is your fault. You’ve done everything so far exactly as you were supposed to.”
“How do you know? How do you know that I couldn’t have saved them? I feel so useless.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not strong enough for this Zan.”
“Isabel. I saw you on that lake. He didn’t beat you, he didn’t break your will - he broke your confidence.”
“I couldn’t stop him.” She whispered, hanging her head, feeling the same heavy self-pity wash back over her, but Zanriath caught her chin and lifted her head to his. There were a few onlookers who could just glimpse them through the doors and passed everything they saw down the lines. He held his face close to hers.
“We were trapped, you had no other choice than to face him. But it wasn’t your task to kill him. It was Ben and Zhack’s.”
“But why did they have to die!?” She was almost pleading with him now and she felt stupid, unable to grasp her own reality in their situation. How was she going to face a room-full of gawping spectators?
“Because, Isabel…” Zanriath began very clearly and slowly, holding her more firmly now, but still with the softest of touches. “There will be a fourth army of demons, greater than the one Heldvik defeated, greater than the one the Watcher trapped in his woods, and greater than the one the boys let consume them to save your life!” His voice rose as he spoke and turned crisp, but it was not his own; he was being used, spoken through to warn her, but he never quite reached a crescendo. “You are the only person who can defeat Depozi.” His voice was exaggerated and defined. “So the mistakes you make now, you must correct before that meeting. Or you will surely lose.” Now, finally, things were falling into place. Now she began to understand more deeply exactly where she fitted in to this game.
“Can I win?” She asked the voice from Zanriath’s lips. His eyes were fierce and focused on hers, but equally, they were not his own. She knew this was the strange voice she had heard before. The voice that was not of a God.
“The twins were the Providers of Hope.” He paused for the deepest of breaths and blinked a few times, his eyes returning to normal, but still fixed on hers. As he spoke again his voice was much softer and the deep pools of his golden eyes drew Isabel in to his emotion.
“So have hope Isabella.” Then he held her in his protective arms for a few precious seconds. And she had hope. She hoped he would hold her for an eternity. She hoped he would still be there with her at the end. She hoped she would not fail him, or Ayva, or the twins, or the Gods in her task.
The same announcer’s voice rang out to introduce Isabel and Zanriath, silencing the whispers racing back and forth and introducing them in the grandest of manners as Timeless Zanriath and Isabella the Eternal. Ayva and Kambeth had clearly been circulating rumours of their own.
But Zanriath ignored the introduction and allowed their audience to wait their coming with untold restlessness, holding his Isabel closely.
Allowing those moments of tenderness to be preserved for as long as she could before releasing from their embrace, Isabel found Zanriath’s lips and pressed hers to them, holding on to that feeling with everything she could muster.
Eventually, they both opened their eyes and suddenly things seemed much clearer, and all that was once uncertain became less ambiguous, even if only a little. She would honour her friends to the very end. Her tasks were far from finished.
And so, arms linked and hearts beating in unison, Isabel and Zanriath strode into the great hall to appease their audience. His handsome suit only embellished the flaming red dress that she wore with such fiery passion, her flowing chestnut hair falling in ringlets down onto one shoulder and her gorgeous brown eyes pulling off the bold crimson with ease. She was the cause of more jealousy that night than anyone would be for a hundred years to come, and before long she even began to enjoy it.
The amulet at her neck shone with a golden glow, matching Zanriath’s eyes beautifully and complementing her own.
After introductions the couple danced together for the first time, taking to the floor to rapturous applause, and they didn’t fail to impress. It surely would be a night to remember.
32
It was very quiet now, unlike their night had been. Isabel and Zanriath had danced and eaten and danced some more, enjoying the precious little time they were being given.
Ayva had danced with all of the single young men at least twice, if not three times, and some of the married ones too, thoroughly making the most of every opportunity. But then of course, that was ingrained into her upbringing.
Zanriath was fetching the horses from the stables and Isabel stood leaning back against the cold wall of the house Kambeth had granted them for the night, clearly once again at the expense of his father. She tilted her head back and gazed up at the clear morning sky, som
ething she had taken to doing quite often as of late. It was a light shade of blue that was surprisingly gentle and long streaks of puffy cloud drifted harmlessly along above her as she admired them. The night had been pleasant and she had enjoyed it. Ayva had been right, it was just what Isabel had needed, and now she felt much better.
Ayva on the other hand, definitely did not feel better this morning. She sat slumped against the wall at Isabel’s side with her head in her hands. She rubbed her eyes and groaned audibly. She had had quite an interesting night.
“I think I drank too much wine.” She croaked, running a hand through her still damp hair.
“Hmmm. Yes I think you might be right.” Isabel replied teasing her.
“It’s not funny Isabel. My head hurts, and why is my hair all wet!?” She exclaimed, suddenly realising why she was shivering.
“I meant to ask actually, why is your hair wet?” Isabel jested.
“I don’t know!” She said loudly, throwing her hands in the air exasperatedly. But then she groaned again and put her hands back on her ears. “Everything is so loud.” She whispered hoarsely. Isabel didn’t know if she was still talking to her or just mumbling to herself, waiting for the throbbing in her head to fade, so she turned her eyes skyward once more and examined the peaceful passing march of the clouds.
Closing her eyes she cast out a wayward thought, scanning Rilako in an instant. What she found she’d been expecting, but it didn’t comfort her. She still sensed demons on the island, but they were scattered without purpose, slowly fanning out into the north they would soon reach Akten on Avrik. She thought of all the people she had met the night before, and shuddered at the thought of demons storming in and killing them all.
On an impulse her hand gently touched her amulet and she breathed a few words in an unrecognisable language.
“What?” Ayva croaked. But Isabel didn’t hear her. Powerful white rings erupted from her body, expanding out and soon encircling the town, led by her calm heartbeat, stronger than ever before. Zanriath was the only one to witness her efforts, Ayva still had her head buried deep in her hands and it seemed that everyone else was feeling the after effects of last night’s celebrations too, and had decided not to surface for at least another good few hours.
Breathing deeply Isabel lowered her head and opened her eyes, laying them immediately upon her Zanriath approaching with the horses. He smiled affectionately, though he looked exhausted. Isabel was tired too. They hadn’t tested their limits with wine the way Ayva had last night, and had retired long before she did, but ironically that probably accounted for their also almost sleepless night.
“How long will that last?” He asked as he reached them, leaning over and pecking Isabel softly on the cheek. She thought for a moment before giving in and sighing.
“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. “Maybe a day or two?” She sighed again. He tucked his finger under her chin and raised her head to his, their eyes meeting halfway.
“I told you Isabel. There’s nothing more you can do. The best thing you can do for them is carry on. That’s the only way we can stop this.”
“I know.” She replied honestly. “I understand. But it’s frustrating.”
“It won’t be long.” He assured her.
“Hopefully I’ll be ready.” She replied.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“Will you please stop shouting?” Ayva implored from her uncomfortable seat on the floor by Isabel’s feet. They smiled with a little sympathy for their suffering companion, but not altogether that much.
“Don’t worry Ayva.” Zanriath comforted her. “Where we’re going the fresh air will do you wonders.”
“Fresh air? This air is fresh.” She said. “Very fresh…” She added sardonically under her breath.
“It’s fresher in the mountains, trust me. And colder.” As he spoke he pulled out three much thicker cloaks that he had acquired from Kambeth the previous night. Ayva didn’t reply besides letting out a low groan and pulling herself to her feet. He also handed Ayva a flask of water. “Here,” he said. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
“Let’s go then.” She said taking the coat and water Zanriath held out to her. “Before everyone wakes up and starts making even more noise.” Isabel chuckled quietly and Ayva gave her a pleading, yet sharp look.
“I don’t think they’ll be awake for quite a while yet Ayva.” She said, but she received no reply.
After they left Akten the morning soon warmed and they followed the River Avrik north once more. They rode in single file, Zanriath leading, followed by Ayva, and Isabel bringing up the rear, to make sure Ayva didn’t fall off her horse more than anything else. She bobbed precariously as they rode but slowly came round as the day began to wear on.
Their pace was steady, but not slow, and the sky remained clear, surely a good sign for the next few days to come Isabel thought, but she did note that Zanriath looked up periodically and always seemed less than satisfied.
They rode for quite a time but the mountains loomed close even from the outset and it didn’t take them all that long to reach them.
“We’re coming up to the border!” Zanriath called back over his shoulder to Ayva and Isabel. Isabel craned her neck to see the boundary ahead, but saw nothing. She let it lie and continued riding, not really knowing what she was expecting, but certain that Zanriath knew where he was going. Inferno Range rose up ahead and for the first time she took a proper look at the mountains in much closer view. She understood almost immediately why Zanriath had been drawn to them as a boy.
They rose high up above the horizon and dwarfed the mountains overlooking Kalaris. The thought cast her mind back to the burning village she’d seen so vividly in her dream. Not that it had even been a dream. She shook it from her vision.
Ayva stirred from her dozing and yawned loudly, stretching her arms out to her sides.
“Where are we?” She asked rubbing the sleep from her eyes and glancing round. “Oww my head still hurts.” She added, bringing her hands to her ears once more.
“We’re just crossing the border.” Zanriath replied over his shoulder. She blinked and looked around again, seeing the mountains obviously growing closer, but finding no distinguishable marker.
“How can you tell?” She called forward. But in answer to her question a sudden blast of freezing air barraged the three of them and the ground they walked on suddenly turned snow-covered. The air became misted with snowflakes and frost kicked up by the storm and they could barely hear each other above the shrill whistling in their ears.
Isabel and Ayva both gasped and buried themselves in their thick cloaks. Zanriath turned back to them and pulled his horse closer so they could hear him. He too was wrapped tightly amidst his cloak, but seemed to be almost unaffected by the sudden plummeting temperatures. He had to shout so they could hear him.
“That’s how! Come on! If we cross the river there’s a pass that’ll take us straight to Dragon’s Peak!”
“How far is it!?” Isabel shouted back, holding her hand to her face to shield herself from the wintry blast.
“We’ll have to stop for the night! We won’t make it today!”
Ayva cursed foully, both at the freezing temperatures and at her pounding headache. Isabel smiled to herself but said nothing and they began driving their horses against the gale.
They pressed on against the strong winds, heading deeper and deeper into the range. As they walked and gained altitude the snow soon became thicker underfoot and their pace slowed drastically. The pass Zanriath took them through cut off to the west and after crossing the river they headed directly north towards Dragon’s Peak. The going was slow and they had to lead the horses through deeper drifts, but luckily it wasn’t so bad that they had to leave them behind.
They continued for the remainder of the day, battling hard against the prevailing wind and icy storm that only seemed to grow stronger the further north they went. Isabel was grateful for the extra clothes Za
nriath had acquired before they left; clearly he had known exactly how badly the cold was going to hit her and Ayva. But all too soon they were freezing and sodden and decidedly miserable. They both physically shook in an effort to keep warm and trailed close behind Zanriath, not wanting to get lost in the ever-strengthening snowstorm.
A lifetime later the sky began to darken and Zanriath led them off to the side of the pass they were still following. Dismounting, he examined the side of a steep rock face, eventually focusing on a large boulder. He dipped through a small gap just behind the fallen rock and disappeared inside the face. Isabel had not fully comprehended until then how long Zanriath had spent in these mountains, and exactly how well he must have got to know them, in more than one sense of the word.
They followed him into the cutting behind the boulder and found themselves inside a sizeable cavern. The roof and walls were rounded and a fire was already burning in the centre. An old makeshift bed was thrown together on one side of the cave, quite close to the fire, and there was even some crude furniture dotted here and there made from both wood and stone. Clearly Zanriath had spent quite some time here previously and it felt quite homely, or at least it was much more comfortable than staying outside would be. Even the horses hadn’t complained about entering the narrow passage to escape the storm.
“How did you find this place Zan?” Ayva asked as she looked round at the almost too ideal cave. “I take it you stayed here before?”
“Yes, for some time before. I moved around a lot. I didn’t stay in the same place for very long.”
“How long will it take us to reach the peak tomorrow?” Isabel asked, moving quickly over to the fire to warm her freezing hands.
“We should be there tomorrow. It’s just slow going in these conditions. And they’re not going to get any better.”
“How can you tell?”