by Kova, Elise
Dark gods, plagues, fate… Vi was wrapped up in her thoughts as she slowly made her way back through the fortress. For the first time in her life, Vi felt small.
There was a red flash in the darkness, nearly identical to what she had seen the night she’d snuck out. Vi looked up, pulled back to reality, and squinted into the dark. Her exhaustion had vanished entirely, heart racing.
Her feet stopped halfway across the walkway she’d been traversing. She was frozen still by the silhouette of a figure blocking the path forward.
Vi narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if the person was male or female. Male… probably, she decided, based on the broadness in his shoulders. The wind rustled the trees above her, the light catching on his eyes again, and Vi’s breath caught in her throat with a strangled choke.
Distinctly red eyes set on ghostly pale skin were narrowed directly at her.
He had a similar jaw line to Taavin’s, a narrow bridge to his nose, and Vi knew if she peeled back the man’s hood she’d see pointed ears. She’d seen creatures of this type before, recently, even. But never standing in the present.
Her whole body went icy.
“Wh-who are you?” Vi whispered, struggling to keep her voice level. She hated the weak quiver that caught the beginning of the first word.
The man unsheathed a narrow dagger. It had the same markings on the side as the one the leader of the acolytes had held in her vision—the elfin'ra. It further contributed to the surreal nature of everything happening around her. Those creatures were on another land, far away. They weren’t here.
Vi took a step back, glancing over her shoulder. Her room was still three stories up. This was the most direct route… but there was an alternate if she took a shortcut through a storage hall.
“What do you want with me?” Vi whispered, debating when she needed to make her break for it.
“The champion’s blood for Lord Raspian.” The words slithered from his mouth, curling through the air with pure malice, curdling in her ears.
The man lunged for her. Vi had barely a second to react. Her hand lifted, palm outstretched between them.
“Juth!” she cried. The symbol exploded from her palm, imperfect and half-formed in her haste. It shattered under the weight of its own power mid-air, casting sparks down on either side of the walkway like the embers of a firework. But Vi didn’t have time to appreciate them.
She was already running.
Vi dashed back into the tree behind her. The elfin’ra’s footsteps were close behind. Vi made a hard left, turning for a cramped passage that led to a narrow stair. At least here there was no way he could flank her.
There was a grunt behind her right as she jumped for the stairs. Vi turned just in time to see the flash of the dagger in the dim moonlight. It narrowly missed the back of her heel. If he’d sliced the tendon, it would’ve been the end of her.
“Juth!” Vi attempted a second time.
But as she raised her hand, the elfin’ra was already speaking, preempting her motions. “Juth mariy,” he snarled.
Vi’s magic fizzled beneath her palm. In her shock, she stumbled at the top of the stair, half rolling down the narrow hall. The horrifying creature stalked closer, his red eyes piercing the darkness as easily as it pierced her soul.
“You are the champion?” The question was a cross between shock and condescending amusement. “I am to believe you are Yargen’s chosen?”
Vi glanced to her right, where a towering shelf stood freely alongside where the man was approaching, dagger still in hand. At least, she hoped it stood freely.
“Juth.” Vi tried again. This time, she did not telegraph her attempt with a movement of her hand, nor did she direct it at the man. Instead, the front legs of the shelf burned away in a white-hot burst of fire.
Off-balance, it was sent toppling over, and Vi scrambled to her feet, running again.
One more flight of stairs; she didn’t look back. Across one more rope bridge and she’d be at her room and there… there she would… what?
Her room had always been her haven. Her safe place. But now it would be a secluded area for her to die. There was nothing there that could protect her any more than where she now stood.
Vi looked around frantically, her head spinning with every sway of the rope bridge beneath her feet. There had to be a warrior patrolling somewhere who could help her. Her eyes scanned every passage and walkway, seeing no one. It was as if she were the only one left alive in the whole fortress.
A cry for help rose in her throat, stopping as she turned toward the sudden creaking on the bridge behind her. The man was mid-lunge. His ominously glowing dagger was tracked over her chest.
He was going to kill her.
Vi looked down at her feet. If she was going to die, she’d take him with her.
“Juth,” she said, one last time, watching as his eyes went wide and the bridge exploded into flames beneath their feet.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The night rushed around her.
She’d known the sky trees were tall, but Vi had never really heeded Jax’s warnings when it came to how tall. It seemed she would fall forever. Every second seemed longer than a hundred years and yet she knew it would be over all too soon.
Vi reached upward on instinct, flailing through the air, looking for a branch or walkway. But she couldn’t find a hold. Surely, there was a window she could grab onto? Somewhere? Her nails ripped back, the pads of her fingers scraped off against rough bark.
There was a flash of red light—the elfin’ra was performing some kind of magic. Vi braced herself. She could almost feel the magic spinning at the man’s whim—a twisted distortion of the power she knew, yet so similar it was painful.
All she could do was wait for it to strike her and then she’d be—
Two hands closed around her sides. She slipped through their grasp. They dug into her shoulders, friction ripping through her clothes. The fingertips pressed further into the meat of her arms. They gripped and didn’t let go.
Vi heard a shout, but it was cut off abruptly as she swung face first into the tree she’d been trying to catch herself on.
Everything went dark.
* * *
She was falling.
Above her were the trees of Shaldan, shadowed and faded like ghosted sentries peering down at her through a hole that became smaller and smaller the longer she fell. The ruins she’d explored in the jungle passed her. Countless eyes, peering through the darkness, stared only at her, waiting.
What were they waiting for?
Why did they look at her as if they knew her?
Her questions went unanswered. She didn’t scream. The wind whizzed around her; she must be falling fast, but her stomach was settled. Vi felt calm. She was sinking into something familiar, warm. She accepted the waiting darkness beyond the reality she knew and the worlds she’d only begun to explore.
Perhaps this was how Dia felt when she fell from the sky. Fearless. Not knowing what awaited her at the bottom but knowing it wouldn’t harm her. Knowing that wherever she landed, was where she was meant to be.
Taavin was there.
That was the first cohesive thought that registered on the edge of Vi’s mind. There was his familiar shape, pressed against her, clutching her, supporting her. He was warm like sunlight, as though all the brightness in the world was contained within him.
Familiar shape?
Her mind was at war with itself. She didn’t know him, not really. They were unlikely allies and she’d certainly never made physical contact with him in any of their meetings. Yet there was a distinct sense of rightness about him. Merely knowing of his existence put a label to something that Vi had never quite paid attention to or understood, something that inexplicably filled her with joy and excitement.
“What happened to you?” His words were muffled and distant, even here when he felt so close. Would he forever be just out of her reach? When had that even become a concern for her? “Is this t
he real you? Or just another night?”
She wasn’t quite sure what happened to her, so she didn’t answer. Everything was murky. All she knew for certain was relief that he was here now. That with him by her side she could endure the long night ahead.
“You’re too far from me.” That, they could agree on. “I can’t help you.”
Just having you here helps, Vi thought, and the words sounded as though they had passed through her lips. His ethereal presence shifted, slightly, as though his chest rose and fell with a sigh.
“Will you ever free me from this torture?” he lamented softly. Vi felt it as though he’d whispered it right into her ear.
The words rumbled through her. They were deep, contemplative. Full of a profound emotion Vi wasn’t even sure she could name. She wanted to twist, to see him, to hold him, to touch him. She would burn away his sorrows and reveal the brightness that only he contained.
But he wasn’t truly there. There was only darkness surrounding her; every passing moment had him drifting further away from her. He was always fading in and out of her life, like a weak pulse that vanished the moment she put her finger on it.
He may have never been there to begin with. Yet she could still feel his skin on hers. She could still feel the rough embroidery of his coat under her hands. There was a phantom memory of feeling things she’d never touched, so perfect she wasn’t even sure what was real anymore.
* * *
Vi opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the light.
It was dawn. When had night become day? She turned her head, feeling soft hands pressing into something uncomfortably squishy.
The someone pressing was Ginger, and the uncomfortably squishy was a section of her body that was where her ribs should be.
“Oh, Mother, princess, that’s the second time you’ve scared me half to death!” Ginger nearly jumped out of her skin the second she saw Vi’s open eyes.
Vi continued to look around. Her hands rested on her quilt; the feather mattress she’d always laid in was soft underneath her. The portraits of her family stood on the dresser, and her box of letters was on her bedside table… This was undeniably her room.
“Do you feel pain?” Ginger asked again. At least, Vi thought it was again. Her mind was still sluggish.
“No, I don’t,” she wheezed. “Discomfort, but no pain.” Why did her voice sound that way? Vi pressed her eyes shut and in the darkness behind them saw the glowing eyes of the man at the other end of the bridge. “We’re not safe.”
“Princess, no, I must insist, you cannot sit right now.” Ginger pushed her back toward the bed. “You’re young, and you received treatment promptly… You’ll be back up and about in no time flat. Even your face will get back to normal. But, Mother, child, give it at least a day. I’m a cleric, not a goddess.”
Vi allowed herself to sink back into her pillows. The haze was beginning to lift. A dullness still lingered on the edge of her mind, but Vi blamed it on whatever potion Ginger had forced down her throat when she was out.
If she was lying in bed, it meant she hadn’t died—simple deductions first. That meant, somehow, she was saved… The arms. Her face meeting the tree. Vi winced, raising a hand to her bandaged head, the echo of a terrible crunch in her ears.
She was alive. That also meant the red-eyed man hadn’t come back to finish the job. Like the saddle, he’d done his work in the shroud of night when he thought himself most likely to elude capture, vanishing in time to fade into suspicious coincidence by morning.
“How bad is it?” Vi asked, watching Ginger rub salve over her abdomen.
“As bad as you’d expect. But a whole lot better than dead. Which, were it not for Andru, you would’ve been.”
“Andru?” Vi wheezed, barely moving her lips.
“He was out, he saw you fall. The man nearly fell out of the window himself catching you. Popped both his shoulders pretty badly, too,” Ginger said, as though she could read her mind. “Promise me the rest of the day in bed, no unnecessary ventures, bathroom only. You can take dinner here. I’ll check you in the morning and hopefully give you the all-clear to begin moving, at least around your quarters. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to summon me should you ever need, princess.”
“I will, Ginger, thank you.”
Her cleric hovered, clearly debating something. Then a small, almost conspiratorial smile crossed her lips. “Princess, if I may, who is Taavin?”
“How do you know that name?” Vi tried to ask calmly, so as not to give away the instant feeling of protectiveness. She didn’t even want to share the mere thought of Taavin with anyone.
Taavin. Just the thought of his name, the way it settled with her, told her she’d dreamed about him. But the details of that dream had vanished on waking. Vi couldn’t recall anything.
“You were murmuring it in your sleep over and over.”
Vi felt a heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with her spark.
“It’s normal for girls your age to begin feeling things,” Ginger started. Vi could tell from her tone that she really didn’t want to have this conversation. First Sehra, now Ginger. “Even your tutors have noticed that perhaps someone may have caught your eye, given your distractions lately. You’ve been taking more lunches and dinners in your room and, well… They’d suggested that I perhaps speak with you on the—” she cleared her throat “—logistics, of men and women.”
Vi went from merely “not wanting to have this conversation” to being willing to do just about anything but. “I appreciate all you do for me, but I don’t think this is the time.”
“Of course, princess. I understand. Merely consider me a resource for whenever you’re ready to discuss such things. For a lady of your status it is imperative to be careful, and your parents have entrusted me to cover such matters with you as is needed.” Ginger tucked one foot behind the other, dipping into a curtsy. She started for the door, but never got the chance to turn the lever.
The door opened from the other side, revealing Jax—Vi thanked every scrap of luck he had not entered moments earlier and been privy to the mention of Taavin. The moment he laid eyes on her, his whole expression crumpled into relief. She’d never seen such tenderness line his brow before.
“Thank the Mother,” he whispered. He turned to Ginger. “How is she?”
“The bones and organs are on the mend. We’re lucky it’s not more serious. Her face should mend up just fine, the nose should set right if she keeps still. And I’ve told her to stay in bed,” Ginger said pointedly, looking back to her.
“I’m not fighting you this time.”
“Good.” She turned back to Jax. “I’ll take care of the rest of the bruising in the morning.”
“Thank you for everything.” Jax clasped Ginger’s hand, sending her out the door in the same motion. He quickly closed it behind her, giving them privacy.
They had a small staring contest, but Vi was the first to avert her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt guilty for making him worry. What had happened certainly wasn’t her fault. Perhaps it was her regal training—that all fault ended with her. “I’m sorry, uncle.”
“Sorry?” He crossed quickly to the chair at her bedside that Ginger had just vacated. “Vi, I’m uttering prayers of thanks with my every breath that you’re alive.”
“Someone attacked me.” Vi reached for him and her uncle’s hand was there to grasp hers right when she needed him. “There was a man and—”
“I know.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “There were remnants of the struggle in the halls. After the cut girth… I should’ve expanded my investigation further, faster. The leather-smith claimed that, perhaps, when he was making some last-minute trimmings to account for some weight loss in Gormon, he dug too deeply on the tail of the straps. When I could find no other leads, the trail went cold and I stalled. Forgive me, Vi.”
Vi shook her head, the horrifying ordeal playing out in her mind. The elfin’ra had powers like her—like Sehra—but twist
ed by that same red lightning she’d seen in her visions. This was unlike anything Jax could fathom going against.
“Whoever this person is,” Vi began slowly. “I think they’re well trained in the art of stealth and subterfuge.”
“Clearly.”
“Did you find their body below where the bridge collapsed?” Vi thought back to the bridge. There was no way the elfin’ra could’ve avoided plummeting to his death.
“Body, no…” Horror crept across Jax’s face. No body meant no confirmed kill—the elfin’ra was still alive. “Tell me of your attacker,” he demanded. “I’ll oversee the warriors personally and we shall hunt them down.”
Vi searched his determined expression. How could she hope to explain what her attacker looked like? What he was?
The memories of the visions returned to her—men and women decaying alongside the world at its end. Her uncle was in knots over the mere idea of something happening to her. How could she explain they were all sprinting head-first toward the end of days and red-eyed elfin’ra were seeking her blood as Yargen’s champion to expedite the process?
She couldn’t explain it all. So she didn’t even try. She couldn’t subject him to that.
“It was dark… I couldn’t make out much.”
“Tell me what you can.”
“Skin as white as a ghost and red, glowing eyes.”
“Red eyes? Like a Firebearer who has freshly seen the future?” Jax asked.
“I suppose…” Vi murmured, now wondering if her eyes glowed red after her visions. She’d never been around a mirror for one.
“Can you tell me anything else?”
“He was hooded.” Vi shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know saying a pale skinned and red-eyed man attacked me seems difficult to believe.”
Jax leaned forward, tugging on her hand gently. He tilted his head up, staring in her eyes. Vi searched her uncle’s weathered face. Lines were drawn across his brow and hung in arcs underneath his eyes. He was only slightly older than her father but worry made him look nearly ancient.