The Flames of Arathia

by Jordan Liberatore

  Was that good, that Lu had such a chance at living? No, Adam couldn’t let himself think like that. Still… His mind had a point. Lucinda was not a woman to be trusted. When he learned of her family ties, he was furious. Of course, he never once said a word to her about it. It was always Nathan that he went to. Nathan understood more about Adam than most, except maybe one other. It was that other that had taught Adam how to treat such poisons as that which afflicted Lu. His mother was always gifted in herbs. She knew how to heal better than most. And with that training passed from mother to son, Adam began his work to save his wife.

  “Melody,” Malcolm breathed, shaking his head. “Beings above, my sweet Melody Kloy… I’ve been waiting. It is ever so nice to see you, and your friend here. Hello, Captain Nathan Rodrick. We finally meet.” He went to step forward, but Drusilla cut in, dagger at the ready.

  Chapter 12:

  “It’s Drusilla now,” Drusilla growled at Malcolm. He slowly began to smile with a small chuckle. He was as handsome as ever, though tanner than Drusilla recalled. He’d been spending time in the sun.

  “You chose the very name I said fit you better. I must say, my love, I have been anxious for this moment for some time. I don’t even know where to begin,” Malcolm sighed. “You took the dagger I see.”

  “What is it to you?” Drusilla snapped. “And don’t you dare call me love, you vile bastard!” Malcolm threw up his hands.

  “Please, Drusilla, hear me out for once. You don’t understand what all went down. I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you. Still… I saw him, Drusilla. He has your eyes, your sweet eyes. Declan… They’ve named him Declan. I’ve made sure he’s well cared for,” Malcolm explained.

  “And who the hell are you to decide that?” Drusilla demanded.

  “His father,” Malcolm growled. “Now lower the dagger and I can explain.”

  “Like hell,” Drusilla spat. “I’d rather gut you with it first.”

  “Wait, you to know each other?” Nathan asked. “Drusilla, what the hell is going on here?”

  “She hasn’t told you?” Malcolm muttered. “I would be surprised how she explains me first: the lover or the man who under orders created such a tragedy?”

  “Shut up,” Drusilla growled. “Or I swear by the Beings that I will gut you like the beast you are. Besides, you never saw it as a tragedy! You didn’t care who died. One of us had to. It was supposed to be me.” It seemed to the Free Strider that Malcolm was buying time. What was he buying time for? Or was he doing something else, something Drusilla didn’t pick up on?

  “Yes, it was, and I admit your mother stepped in the way. But Drusilla, I did love you. Not once did I ever lie about that. I was sent to kill you, Beings as my witness yes, but I did not count on falling in love. I had to get myself drunk that night just to do the deed, and even then when Breena was stabbed I ran. Why? I couldn’t kill you, not you Drusilla. You owned my heart,” Malcolm argued. He tried to come forward, but Drusilla slammed her foot down on his, blade aimed at his neck.

  “Why the hell should I not just kill you here?” Drusilla snarled. Nathan had begun to circle them, sword and flame at the ready.

  “Maybe because I’m trying to warn you. The Eknar wants you dead. Even more now that you are with Adam Brightheart and Nathan Rodrick. If you know… Beings above, Drusilla, you are in so deep!” Malcolm breathed. “I lied, you know. I told the Eknar that both you and your mother were killed. I spared you. Did you ever wonder why the Brethren never went after you? They should have. They certainly could have found you. I did what I could to save you.”

  “You’re a liar, Malcolm. Why should I then trust you?” Drusilla pointed out. Malcolm leaned his head towards her.

  “Because I can see in your eyes that you still love me, Drusilla. And I love you,” he muttered. Drusilla’ s heart began to race. “Spare me, and I will lead you right to that damned Eknar myself and help you destroy the Brethren once and for all. You do not have to accept me back in, Drusilla. I’m not asking for family. I’m just asking for you to let me make up as best I can for the unspeakable wrong I’ve done.” He lightly kissed her nose, but Drusilla jerked back.

  “I owe you nothing,” Drusilla hissed, her voice breaking. She slowly lowers the dagger. “However, my mother’s death is one against Nathan’s entire village. He should decide your fate, not me.” She began to step back, but Malcolm grabbed her hand.

  “Just know that I mean it when I say that I love you,” Malcolm told her. Drusilla yanked herself out of his grasp, letting Nathan step in. As he did, Malcolm took his chance to finally unsheathe his sword. Nathan’s eyes were locked on the Brethren, but Malcolm simply stared at Drusilla. “Dry your eyes, sweet love,” Malcolm softly instructed as he and Nathan began to circle each other. Shocked, Drusilla only just realized that she was crying. She quickly used the back of her sleeve to dry her eyes.

  The air was thick and tense as Nathan went for the attack. Malcolm countered, and the two sparred for a few breathless moments before Nathan used the butt of his sword to knock Malcolm out. Then the fireblood quickly created a cage of flame, something Drusilla had never imagined could be, around Malcolm. “We need to go, now,” Nathan urged. “The temple should be a little bit beyond this clearing.” Drusilla nodded, following along. “Lover?” Nathan inquired.

  “I thought I told you not to inquire on my past, Captain,” Drusilla pointed out. Nathan smiled.

  “Miss Free Strider, I do think you owe me this much,” Nathan argued.

  “That man killed my mother, Nathan. With it he in a sense killed me, at least the old me. Who I was has no bearing on me now,” Drusilla argued.

  “You have a son,” Nathan sighed. Drusilla tensed.

  “I birthed a son and gave him up. I was just shy of 20, just learning to be a Free Strider. That boy will never know who his parents were, and I plan to keep it that way,” Drusilla growled. Nathan sighed, shaking his head.

  “You are able to do as you will,” he muttered as they came to another opening in the dense trees. Facing them was the time worn wall of an ancient temple built into the cliff of the large hill overtaking a good portion of the island. This magnificent wall had been built into the rocky hill in such a way that it looked only natural to be there. Vines and bushes had taken over parts of the wall, making it simply a part of the island, perhaps even the heart of it. On the ground was a stone path leading right up to the entrance itself: Two stone slabs each with a giant red crystal. From each crystal were carved small veins, a system of them leading to a large almost bowl in the center of both slabs. The Fireblood Temple held with it a great power, an aura of something so deeply rooted in the world that it simply took Drusilla’s breath away.

  Nathan stepped forward, staring intently at the door. Drusilla thought on what had been explained on the ship. Two firebloods were needed to open the door. Nathan slowly raised his hand, taking a deep breath. Flames began to dance across his hand, shooting through the air towards one of the gems. The fire poured like liquid through the veins on the door, strong at first though dying in the bowl. Drusilla sighed. It was clear now. Some deep part in her cried out against this. Nathan couldn’t do this alone. But he didn’t have to. Drusilla was a fireblood. She could help. She would help. That was the duty placed before her.

  Nathan growled in anger, trying again at the gem. Watching him, Drusilla raised her own hand, heart racing. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she woke the flame within. It was like a part of her was awakening from a deep sleep. Eyes open, flames licked across Drusilla’s fingers, growing stronger. She focused on the other slab, the way the veins curved, the way the sun reflected on the gem, and how the bowl came together with both slabs. Her blood warmed, shooting the fire towards the gem. Shocked, Nathan glanced over at her, but quickly focused back on the gem. Their fires filled the crystals, flowing through the veins and mingling like waves in the ocean in the center depression. Slowly the slabs began to push apart. It held suspended there as the flames
began to die. As they did, Drusilla fell to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  “You’re not used to it, are you?” Nathan growled, glaring at her. Refusing his look, Drusilla simply shook her head. “You should have told me what you were,” he muttered. Anger flared in the Free Strider.

  “I had my reasons. I wish not to discuss them now, though, not so close to the end of this,” Drusilla spat, pulling herself to her feet as Nathan stepped towards the slabs. He pressed his hand on the crack, closing his eyes.

  “Gald, ano nashi afa entailan,” Nathan commanded. Drusilla actually recognized gald as meaning open. Galdirr itself was Elvish for “Open lands.” It basically confirmed what Drusilla had already thought. The slabs suddenly gave way, pulling open even more. Nathan stiffly motioned for Drusilla to follow him inside. He grabbed a broken branch good enough for a torch before entering, using his own flame to light it. The flames danced across the walls, walls so beautifully decorated. To Drusilla’s right she recognized the three Beings, chief most being Xiabor, skin wrought in emerald and eyes cutting into the darkness. Those golden eyes were faded gems, more faded than the green or the darkness of her hair. All three Beings were old art, perhaps as old as the temple itself. They were the heart of it, as they were the heart of the world.

  It was towards the end of the hall that Drusilla froze. In the light of the fire she was met with an eerily familiar sight. There carved and painted was a gorgeous High Elf. She had long silvery blonde hair and was tall. Her eyes were plated gold, standing out proudly with stunning lips. She wore a lavender dress, a crown of gold ivy on her head. It was like staring at an image of the past, of four years gone to be precise. Drusilla stared at the woman in shock. Nathan soon realized that Drusilla wasn’t following him and went to stand next to her. “That is the High Elven queen, Queen Avariana,” Nathan explained with a sigh. “She was young when the Elves were driven out. Her father was among those killed, and so she took his place. They say she still lives in Serentari.” Drusilla turned to him questioningly.

  “What is Serentari?” Drusilla asked.

  “Ask not that question, for it is one I cannot explain. Adam could if you ask. Let’s keep going,” Nathan replied. They plunged deeper into the temple, Drusilla fighting the feeling that they were being watched. It was hard to shake, and a part of her was still caught up on Avariana, that woman who was there that night in the cave. Finally Nathan abruptly paused, thrusting his arm out in front of Drusilla. It was then that she noticed the shadows moving across the walls. “Enthratas,” Nathan hissed. “Keepers of the Gem.”

  At first Drusilla didn’t know what Nathan meant, but then she saw. Small creatures about a foot tall with four wings fluttered into the room, illuminated by the light of Nathan and Drusilla. Their skin was ivy green, like emerald was painted on them, hair long and silver gray. Their wings were a translucent blue, shimmering in the light of the flames. Their eyes were either gold or silver, sending chills down Drusilla’s spine as they frowned at her with thin green lips.

  The leader, or so it seemed, flew up towards Nathan. His wings were darker than the others, and he held a small staff in his hand. His pants were black, and shirt was made of ivy. He held his chin high, crossing his arms. Nathan was prepared. He knew this was coming. “Cor banatra tana len?” the creature growled. Nathan knew this to mean “What business have you?” Drusilla didn’t know what it meant, and was caught up on the deep voice of the creature before her. It was eerie and chilling, so strange and foreign.

  “Nashi narla cet ri nath Dinthlayi Kitarana,” Nathan explained, trying to say, “We wish to find the Fireblood Gem.”

  “Kathnar?” the creature asked, seeming to raise a thin eyebrow as he inquired, “Why?”

  “Yen narla cet tana ro cet paytar nath amarca,” Nathan explained, telling the creature, ““I wish to have it to fulfill the prophecy.” The creature chuckled deeply.

  “You speak as if you are the Chosen,” the Enthrata teased in a broken and harsh accent. Nathan understood that the Enthrata leader was trying to force him to stop talking in Elvish, to trip him up.

  “Yen fiyta,” Nathan replied strongly, refusing to say “I am” in the common tongue. He had come too far. He couldn’t mess up now. The Enthrata huffed, taking out a blue gem. He held out to Nathan, who pricked his finger with a needle he had on hand to draw blood. Nathan pressed his finger on the gem, watching it glow brilliantly at his touch. The other Enthrata all gasped and muttered to each other as their leader’s eyes widened. The leader slowly slipped the gem back away.

  “You may pass. Do so quickly,” the leader growled, thoroughly beaten. “Makarna,” he ordered his people. “Retreat.” The Enthrata were willing to comply, fluttering back. Nathan and Drusilla were once again alone, but before Drusilla could say anything Nathan was quickly walking again. Drusilla ran to catch up.

  “What were you two talking about?” Drusilla demanded. Nathan glared at her with a heavy sigh.

  “He asked why we were here. I told him why and he asked who I was. Bother not with your questions, Miss Free Strider, for I wish not to answer,” Nathan explained coldly. Drusilla didn’t push him. She knew it was better not to, though she knew there was something he was hiding. Instead of speaking, she just let them delve deeper into the darkness that surrounded them.

  Chapter 13:

  Adam had found what he needed and retreated back to the ship. Lu was sleeping now, the danger having past. Thus Adam sat in the sun, lost in thought. Something was off. He had purchased that buttersip. He got it from someone he could trust, not a random merchant. It was an old friend. How the hell was it poisoned? Someone… No, he couldn’t think of that… But still. Someone on ship had to have poisoned it. Drusilla wouldn’t. No, she probably didn’t even know they had it. Nathan? No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was the only one who was still giving Lu more of a benefit of the doubt. Adam… Adam was losing his trust in her.

  He loved her once. That love was dead. She’d killed it. Lu had been drawing back more and more and now… Adam looked down the stairs. Every inch of him was screaming against her. Kill her, his sword arm screamed. He wouldn’t though. Adam was trained not to just take a life. He was trained to respect others no matter what. His mother and dare he say his father both taught him that. It’d been a while since Adam had seen his father. What was it? Three years? Five? No, longer. Adam knew it was longer. And somehow that was okay.

  Drusilla and Nathan had finally come to a large room. It was held up by large pillars of stone. Lit torches lined the stone walls, filling the room with an eerie light. The room was scarcely decorated except for the center pedestal. It was a dark wood elegantly carved. On it was displayed a deep red gem. It wasn’t a ruby. There were hints of gold and orange in its color. Its beauty was beyond words, so perfectly carved and so stunningly smooth. Even where the light didn’t hit it the stone shined as though it held a light of its own. From it also seemed to be a strange feeling, a power that emanated throughout the room. Right behind the gem at the back of the room was an altar covered in candles and dust. The altar was a relic from a time long ago, when people truly worshipped rather than what they called worship now.

  Nathan took a step towards the gem, just as a burst of red light came from it. A pulse of wind followed it, stopping Nathan in his tracks. It seemed everything froze, everything except Drusilla. Another glow came, but not red. It was pure white, like snow on the ground in midwinter. It was stunning, soft and warm. The light filled the room before fading, leaving behind a woman. She was taller and more graceful than Drusilla, with gold eyes speckled with blue and hair flowing down her spine in deep waves. Her dress was a soft off white with flowing sleeves and trims of gold. Her lips were a dark red like a rose, full and enchanting. Her eye lashes were naturally thick, long, and dark, her posture strong and proper yet full of kindness and grace. A crown of dark ivy rested on her brow, two thin braids of silvery hair framing her thin face. Her ears pulled into a point at the top, proudly
shown and not hidden. This beautiful, stunning, enchanting creature was none other than the High Elven Queen standing before Drusilla.

  Drusilla tried to step back away from her, but Avariana grabbed the Free Strider’s wrist with her thin hand. Her grasp was firm yet motherly. Her skin was fiery warm yet icy cold all at once. “Fret not my dear,” Avariana reassured in a soothing most melodic voice. Her gaze was now kind. Her voice was like a soft wave crashing against the sand on a summer’s eve. It was soft like velvet, beautiful like the sound of soft spring drizzle on a sunny day. It rang like a harp, kind and mesmerizing. It drew Drusilla to a time and place unknown, reaching into the depths of her soul and bringing out warmth she had never known. Her voice was like the strings of a violin of the highest quality, played in a room as to allow its captivating music to echo like a chorus of angels. Every ounce of it held a power and beauty of a time before war was ever known, reminiscent of a people that once walked these lands and perhaps even built the temple they now stood in.

  “I have watched over you since the day of your birth. You are destined for great things, Drusilla. Do not fear me. I have come to aid you on the quest you are taking part in. Dear girl, the foretelling of this day happened long ago before King Anikarra attacked Galdirr,” Avariana explained. Slowly Drusilla began to relax, her muscles letting go of all tension as though beckoned to by the Queen before her. Her mind began to quiet, the traces of the torture it constantly put itself through fading into the background as though it were nothing more than a bad dream. That was the power of the Elven Queen: to soften the edges of cruel reality. She was peace in the storm, though at times the storm itself.

  “Why have you watched me?” Drusilla struggled to ask, forcing her own voice to work. “I know of your kind. You watch only the ones who are destined to have some dealing with your own.”