by Aldrea Alien
His father smiled with predatory slowness, pale lips gliding over his teeth. "That would be nigh impossible."
Swallowing, Herald tore his gaze away from his father's fangs and the fresh tinge of blood upon them. He glanced at the dead woman, contained the shudder that wished to take command of his shoulders, and turned to frown at the bare wall. If the object had been put in the tower in the first place, then it could be removed. He absently slid a fang along his bottom lip, the sharp edge scraping at his chill-chapped skin. On the other hand, if it was difficult to move, as his father proclaimed, then who'd be able to steal it? And precisely what danger was he supposed to be guarding it from in the first place?
Without a word of acceptance to his new task, he bowed to his father and left the dungeon. It would take a good hour or so to climb the tower steps. A task he did not relish doing. But at least up in the tower, he wouldn't have to listen to the incessant chatter of those residing here. Not that he relished the fortress talks of raids any better.
He would naturally have to descend to eat, but the thought of being isolated was alluring, and the stairway would undoubtedly be warmer than what frigid temperatures awaited him in the draughty tower room. Better still, if he timed his trips into the castle kitchen right, then he could likely go for weeks without smelling a single being.
Chapter Two
Herald had climbed the eastern tower once in his life, whilst in a race against his brother. Like then, the coiling stairs seemed bewitched to go on forever. He slumped against the wall, legs wobbling. Had he not reached the top and barely felt out of breath last time? You're getting soft. All those years, locked within the fortress with nothing to challenge him, to keep him fit and alert. That'll change. It must. He'd make sure of it.
Half the door stood visible just above, the wood showing no sign of a lock. Lifting his torch high, he staggered up the last of the steps to give the door an experimental push. The hinges offered a soft squeak as the door swung inward a little before halting.
He frowned at the aged wood. His father wanted this thing of apparent value guarded, yet he kept it in an unlocked room? It made no sense. Or had someone gotten here before him? Easing his sword to an easily accessible position, he shoved the door wide.
There were no gold or jewels to be seen in the space beyond. The room was empty save for a large chunk of unworked quartz.
Is this it? He circled the rock, its peak little more than a hand's span higher than himself. His father had sent for him to guard this worthless object? Herald kicked at the base, scattering old shards of cloudy stone. The crystal wasn't even a perfect specimen. It had a bluish smoke inside and the sides were riddled with cracks where someone had tried to smash it apart. Several times, by the looks of it. He ran a finger along a crack. The edges were smooth. Old. The next fissure felt sharper.
Disgusted at the emptiness of his task, he leant against the wall. Guard the precious crystal. The torchlight shone upon the surface of the crystal, flames reflected as a ruddy glow. No one can even remove it from the room. It'd never fit out the door. Never mind making it down the stairs in one piece.
His glare dropped to its milky-grey base. Was that movement in the depths of the rock? It had only been there for a moment. Surely nothing could be within the crystal. He squinted, certain he could almost make out a form.
A sharp knock on the door shattered his concentration and the haze vanished. Herald grasped his sword hilt, half drawing the blade as he faced the entrance.
The door moved without hesitation, the creak of dry metal steady and hushed. A dark gap opened between wood and stone, widening further to reveal his flaxen-haired intruder.
Another sister. Herald snarled and sheathed his sword before the girl could notice the bared blade. At times, he swore they were like rats, always appearing where they weren't wanted. Gritting his teeth, he waited for his sister to speak.
She brushed the hair from her brown eyes, made darker still by the sole act of being framed by her milky skin. Cheeks flushing with colour, she smiled. "You left this with your saddle, my lord." She lifted her burden, drawing his attention from her face to the waterskin she held—although there were few in the valley that actually carried water.
His stomach gave a gentle enquiry. He'd drunk little from the waterskin. Whilst he preferred not to feed during the day, indulging now would save him from having to descend the tower tonight. "Thank you. Put it by the door." He turned from the girl, hoping she'd leave. Not sensing her presence diminishing, he glanced over his shoulder and found her watching him with patient curiosity. "Was there something else?"
"Viola said you were Herald," she replied, lowering her gaze in a sudden display of shyness. "Are you really he, the mighty defender of our valley?"
His lips twisted wryly at the awe in her voice. "You speak as if I am a walking legend." He resisted the urge to laugh, more from solemn habit than any real need. A legend? Him? His brother would've found that mightily amusing. "I don't guard the valley alone."
"And now you guard our father's most precious possession." She watched him from under heavy blonde lashes, the curiosity in her eyes returning. "Have you met her?" She smiled and nodded toward the crystal when her question was met with silence. "Did you think it only rock?" Her hair, as light as dandelion seeds, gaily bounced as she shook her head. "It holds a spirit."
"A spirit?" Hadn't he thought he'd seen something move within the crystal? Herald shook his head. It must've been the light playing tricks with his vision. Or a childish prank. Amusement vanished at the prospect that his half-sister merely jested. Why were his castle-dwelling siblings always so unusual? It was as if some manner of magic permeated the building, eating away at the sanity of the folk living within. "Begone, child," he snarled. "I have little patience for foolishness."
Dark eyes widening at his irritation, she scurried out of the room. He waited for the sound of footsteps to fade before believing she'd finally left the tower.
Firmly shutting the door, he leant against the wood and resumed glaring at the object of his guardianship. The crystal may not be completely clear, but he could distinguish enough of the wall on the other side of it to see there was nothing in the rock. Certainly no spirits.
He shook his head, absently pushing back the hair that fell into his eyes. Had the girl thought him some lack-witted cur? How could anyone believe a lump of rock would be strong enough to hold a spirit when the world was made of them?
His gaze fell to the waterskin at his feet. He bent to pick it up when movement on the edge of his vision caught his attention. Looking up to see who had managed to slink in unnoticed, he found a woman standing on the other side of the crystal. With creamy skin and hair the pale yellow of dried wheat, she could've passed as the mother to the girl he'd just evicted. At least, if he didn't know better.
He put a hand on the wooden door and leant against it. The timber, old as it was, did little but issue a faint creak. Most definitely shut. Had he not just had his back on it a moment ago? Yet she stood before him as if he'd done the intruding. He'd circled the room and it had been empty upon his arrival. Hadn't it?
Walking around the rock, his heart jumped upon seeing that the woman wasn't merely on the other side of the crystal but in it. She wordlessly spun as he circled her, tracking his movement with eyes the pale blue-grey of approaching dawn. The most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.
"A spirit," he breathed. The girl hadn't lied; he truly was guarding a spirit-imbued gem. But what kind of spirit? He doubted his father would've imprisoned a succubus or any other sort of demon. No fae would possibly be worth this much effort. "Jinni?" he ventured, although he hadn't heard of any with such a form as this. His father had wandered much of the earth before returning to settle in the valley of his birth. Was it possible his father had taken more from the land than treasure and children?
"Close." The deep-grey dress shifted colour as she laughed, lightening and rolling like storm clouds. "Try something with more power. Somethi
ng holy." At the last word, her eyes sparkled delightfully.
Something in the back of his mind screamed at him. She can't be. Brushing the sensation aside, his mind flailed like a dumbfounded child as he thought of any other spirit she could've been. He couldn't think of anything more powerful than jinn. And holy? The nagging feeling rushed forward. There was one thing more powerful. "An angel?" Something that would be worth all this trouble. "You're an angel?"
Her lips, barely carrying enough colour to be called pink, curved. "Is it so hard to believe?"
He stared at the woman, his mind battling with the impossibility. Here? Why here? Why in this crystal? "What would an angel be doing in a strigoi's castle?"
The smile faded, lips losing their colour as they fell into a sullen pout. "I was curious and careless." She seemed to look through him. "I did not think your father would be brave enough to try trapping me." A pale finger reached out and touched the crystal. "I was wrong."
He stepped away from her, jumping when his back pressed against the door. An angel. His mind flinched from the thought. What could his father possibly want with an angel? A spirit? Had she made the portal? Surely she wouldn't want to help bring more of his kind into this world, no matter how many years she was imprisoned here. He frowned. How long has she been here?
Not taking his eyes off the woman, he searched for the door handle. Finding it, he left the tower room before she snapped out of her reverie. He had to know when his father had captured her. Someone, some thing up above, had to notice she was missing. Herald would've. And whoever noticed would come with much force. Did his father expect him to mount a defence against angels?
Herald laughed, the sound flat and humourless as it echoed up the tower steps in his wake. It was highly possible Ștefan would expect his eldest living son to do just that. After all, Herald had protected his family by guarding the valley for centuries. But this time, father, you've gone too far.
Chapter Three
The castle walls were a blur as Herald raced down the tower steps and onwards through the hallways. Beyond the sheltering stone, he sensed the afternoon coming to an end. Many of the castle's inhabitants would rise with the setting of the sun. He wanted to be gone from the castle, or at least back in the tower, by then.
There was something different, just a little bit twisted, about the people here compared to those he knew back in the fortress. Perhaps the closeness to his father had affected them, warping their souls—or whatever was left of them. At least the warriors he commanded knew the killing end of a sword, and the women didn't try tossing every man they met into their beds.
He shuddered at the idea. No matter how pretty or charming the women were, he couldn't repress the knowledge that, unless they'd escaped from the dungeon, every one of them was a half-sister. Some of his half-brothers, all but a handful of them really, weren't as particular in their choices in bed partners. His preference to not resort to incest made for some lonely days, but he hadn't felt the need to seek out such companionship since his youth.
Herald halted at a door his memory recalled more than the others. He hoped this was the right room. Apart from the cleanness of the wood, it looked the same as every other door he'd passed. The halls he'd traversed and the doors leading off them had been covered in years of grime. Hauntingly different from the pristine realm he remembered, like much of the castle itself. Over the centuries, he'd become acutely aware of time altering all things save Ștefan and his many children. Herald didn't much like coming across reminders. It made him feel every one of the eleven centuries since his creation.
The hinges offered a faint squeak as he entered the room. Herald was relieved his memory had proven true and this was indeed the right room. Before him, old cages full of tiny birds sat on the floor and hung from the ceilings. He'd helped craft each wire frame, and a flush of pride filled him at the sight of them still whole after so many years. His gaze swung to the far end of the room where Ștefan stood with his caped back facing Herald.
He gritted his teeth as his father feigned ignorance of his presence. Ștefan knew he was here from the moment Herald opened the door. Herald traipsed the length of the room, halting a dozen or so paces away. "Father," he murmured, then stood to attention, waiting to be acknowledged.
"You return so soon, my boy." His father turned, his gaze focused on one of the small birds perched on his hand. A sparrow, perhaps; it looked plain enough. "Rarely do I see you after sunrise. What troubles you?" Ștefan stared at the bird as if the question were meant for its little ears.
For some reason, his father adored the tiny creatures. Herald didn't see the reasoning behind the affection. It didn't fit with his father's usual requirements for personal entertainment. They weren't big enough for a meal, they had little in the way of will to snap, and, most importantly, their tiny hearts gave out at the slightest hint of torture.
Herald looked about the room, marking how many feathered lives filled the cages. More prisoners. Be it birds or people, his father did have a liking for incarceration. At least the birds had the good fortune to die of old age.
"An angel, father?" he said, forcing his mind to focus on the woman trapped in the crystal. Could he really call her a woman? Weren't angels meant to be genderless or something like that? His treacherous thoughts fast recalled the subtle curves under her gown, his face warming. Definitely female. "Are you trying to get us all killed?" Images of the castle being attacked from the sky filled his mind, shunting aside the previous, glorious vision. Is that why I'm here? When it came to commanding warriors, only his brother had surpassed him. Protecting the valley from men was easy. Was it even possible to defend against angels?
"So you've met your task." His father smiled at the bird, stroking its frail breast with his thumb. "Do not be so concerned, Herald. She has been here a while."
A while? That didn't say much. To his father 'a while' could mean anything from three centuries back to last week. "Exactly how long?" The desire to know pulled the words from his throat before he'd a chance to stop them.
His father's dark brow twitched at Herald's commanding tone. Ștefan slowly faced him, his pale lips narrowing and speaking his father's displeasure louder than any words could've done.
Herald flinched under his father's intense stare. Younger siblings had died for lesser defiance. Where had the insolence to speak in such a fashion come from?
"It's been six, maybe seven, hundred years." The corner of his father's mouth rose in a smile. "I forget the precise length of time." The dark orbs of his eyes grew icy. "Is a man not allowed to forget things in his dotage?"
Being a few decades older than Herald, he hardly classified his father as being old. I shouldn't have used that tone with him. It was the only reason Ștefan brought up age in the first place.
Still, Herald couldn't help himself. It felt like eternity since the last time his curiosity had been tweaked this much. Now the desire to know burrowed deep into his mind, burning hot at its core. Why was she here? He'd thought that an angel had been required to power the portal located inside the castle, but the timeframe wasn't long enough. Not when Herald had stepped through that very portal, out of Hell and into this world, during his two-hundredth year.
He rubbed his temple. Had it really been nigh on nine hundred years ago? No wonder he felt so old. "Why is the angel here?"
Sighing, his father returned the sparrow to its cage. "I heard a legend once, that an angel's blood could give a man great strength and immortality."
Such a story would certainly intrigue his father. But what good was either power to a strigoi? Or did it also mean immunity to the deathly light of the sun? The desire to step out into the daylight he could understand.
"Then why have you kept her for so long?" His father had little patience for things that didn't work in his favour. Herald couldn't recall him ever keeping something purely for the sake of it. Not since the death of Herald's mother eleven hundred years ago, the death that had sparked his unholy creation deep wit
hin Hell's toxic womb.
"I've yet to try it. An angel she may be, but she's still a spirit. It's difficult to make someone bleed when they have no flesh. If she were to trade that crystalline cage for an actual body then things would be different." His father's smile was poisonous. "Alas, as imprudent as she was to let herself be imprisoned, she's not foolish enough to allow anyone a chance to drink her blood."
The aggravation Herald had first felt upon seeing the crystal returned. And you call it precious? It wasn't valuable. It was worthless. "Why not let her go?" His father never had an interest in releasing what he'd caught, but maybe he could make an exception. "You have no use for her in her current state and my time would be better spent back at the fortress."
"If only it were that simple," his father said, his black eyes briefly glittering with bitterness. "I brought you here to guard the crystal against someone destroying it." His thin lips narrowed further as he frowned. "You have always been the best choice for this task, but the fortress would've suffered at your removal in the past. However, I believe your second in command—Vigil, is it not?—has learnt much during his time there."
His much younger half-brother was excellent at keeping order of those under him. Almost as good as his full-blooded brother had been. Although the distraction of the lad's full-blooded sister, Atropa, and her strange behaviour had diminished this seemingly natural ability. She'd become stranger than usual upon returning from the castle, flirting with the fortress men and blackening her lips with belladonna berries. It had killed her, turning her mortal body into a strigoi like their father.
She spoke of a crystal. At the time, Herald had brushed aside the mad ravings about a large chunk of quartz. But now, the description he recalled matched the crystal in the tower. "Why does it matter if it's smashed? At least you'd be rid of her." And he could return to his fortress.