by Lucy Smoke
Coen?
There's a subtle shift, more of a sensation of nodding without actually seeing it. I tilt my head to the side, wrapping my arms around my middle and then hold myself close as I stare at the back of his head. For several minutes he doesn't turn back. Instead, he tips his head down and to the side, staring at the puddles as we walk by them. Curiosity, but also perhaps something more, draws my gaze to where his eyes are trained and once again, our eyes clash. I blink as he jerks his head up. Caught once again, this time watching me using the puddles of rain as mirrors.
He is affected by you, Obi says.
They all are, I remind him. It's just because they're potentials. Maybe they can't help it. Maybe if another daimon came through, they would be the same.
Is that truly what you believe?
I don't know, I answer. I honestly don't know what to believe anymore.
A brief moment of quiet descends where all I can hear are our boots on the ground, squishing against the mud. Then Obidian's impossibly deep voice intrudes once more.
The desires you have are there in their eyes, he finally says. They are drawn to you and you to them. The feelings that are deep within you, I can see. You have bonded to these men. These are your potentials, no others. Trust me enough to believe that, young one.
I sniff, drawing Titus' attention. He tips his head down and his brows draw down low over his gorgeous blue eyes in concern. I shake my head and nod towards where Booker leads at the front.
You care for them. Once again, Obi's words butt in.
I would think that was obvious, I reply sharply. I don't just go around kissing people I don't care about.
What worries you?
That's the question, isn't it? What worries me? I let my gaze find the others. Holden. Titus. Luca. Booker. Coen. They shouldn't have to be here with me. But I've pulled them along with me. And look where that's gotten them. Madam Armaita—Booker's mother—may die because of me, because Booker had to use an illegal spell. Coen was tortured. Guilt eats away at my soul. They've given up so much.
Ahhh. I see.
What? I ask. What do you see?
You worry for them, he says. It is as natural for you as breathing. You care for them and them for you, but you fear that more will tear them apart. You cannot choose because they are all drawn to you, and because of me, you to them. You fear that it is unnatural to love so many and for so many to love you.
Love? I hadn't said love yet. Care? Yes. Like? Definitely. Desire? Another definitely. But Love? That was a bit much too soon, right?
Obidian sighs in my thoughts. Ngame help you, young one.
I frown. What does the Goddess of Spirit have to do with this?
Do you not recall the way through which she attained her divinity? he asks.
Uhhh. School was not my strong suit, remember?
Another heavy sigh follows. Ngame was a mere priestess before she caught the eye of Apil and Ticab.
The Sun and Earth Gods?
Yes, they watched as she faced a demonic force and died for her cause. At the very last second, before her life could be sucked away entirely, they lifted her from her Fate.
So, what then? They just made her a God?
I can practically hear Obidian gritting his sharp dragon teeth in frustration. When I said I was bad at school, I wasn't kidding. A God or Goddess is not so easily made, he explains patiently.
So, how'd she become a Goddess then?
When Apil and Ticab first lifted her to their realm, she was a spirit. Part of the servant class that attends to the Gods' needs as they see fit. But because of her original connection to the spirits as a priestess, she retained much of her...how do I explain, her personality? She kept her powers of foresight the Gods had gifted her as a priestess. Her ability to feel the emotions of others, to read minds, to see into the future, to see into a past that was not her own. She kept all of that.
Sounds like an awesome lady, I reply.
Indeed, Obi agrees.
I'm surprised by the ready agreement. If my memory serves me, Ngame had helped the other Gods to bind Obidian hundreds of years before.
That is true, Obi says, my mind an open book. But just because I respect and admire her does not mean I like or appreciate her decisions upon my person.
I snicker. Sometimes, he sounds like such an old man.
I am an old man, he replies tartly. Minus the man portion of that statement.
Yup. A giant lizard talking to me in my head. Why did the guys like me again?
8
Reassurance & Salvation
Between two giant gray mountains lies a pass. A single, narrow road that is not traveled by anything with wheels. No machines. No carts. Just feet and hooves. We make it to the bottom without much problem, but as the day lapses, the clouds grow darker. After a while, Booker comes to a complete stop. I'm so focused on my feet that I don't even realize when we've done so and I bump into Holden's back. He turns, casting a glance at me over his shoulder and the way his eyes travel down before coming back to my face makes me shiver.
"We'll have to make camp for the night again," Booker calls back. "Separate. Find a cave if you can. It looks like a storm."
Luca and Booker take off in one direction, Titus and Coen in another, and Holden and I are left alone. I bite my lip as we start walking off the path, climbing over smaller rocks and sandy ground. I can smell the beach. Hear the ocean waves crashing against cliffs in the near distance. It reminds me of Chesla, where we had met Halcyon, and the City of the Phoenix.
Finally, after several minutes of silence, I can't stand it anymore. "Holden?" I hate the way my voice quivers when I say his name, but I can't deny that it does its job.
Holden comes to a standstill, completely unmoving as he casts a short glance back at me. "What?"
"Are you mad at me?" I ask. I swallow around a thick throat. "I mean, about...everything?"
Frowning, he turns to face me fully. "Mad at you?" he repeats.
"Yes," I say. "I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you were. This is all kind of my fault anyway. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. For Obi calling you, for me accepting your help."
He starts shaking his head. "I don't blame you," he says. "I don't blame you at all."
I clasp my hands together and find that I'm shivering. I don't know if it's because the wind is much colder here or what, but I can't seem to stop. My whole body trembles. "I blame me," I whisper. "I know I should. This is all my fault. You and Titus losing Euron. Booker almost dying. Coen almost dying. Madam Armaita—" I choke off at Madam Armaita's name.
Holden moves forward and I hastily take a step back, but that doesn't deter him. He grabs me up and crushes me against his chest with lightning speed. "This is not on you," he whispers quietly. Each word is like a crashing of a gong. A promise. A prayer. Something that I've needed to hear for days now.
With my face pressed against his chest, a darkness burns in me. It’s getting close, tempting me to lose control. A fiery pressure inside my head makes me slip away. It’s all my fault. This whole thing is because of me. No, I never asked for Obidian, but I was the one who had received him. If I had just given myself up to begin with, Coen wouldn’t have been taken. Madam Armaita wouldn’t have been arrested. Her life wouldn’t hang in the balance. No one would have been hurt.
Holden’s hands close over my biceps, his fingers digging in until pain flares up. “Don’t fucking think like that.” His command is dark, said through clenched teeth as his eyes track my expression.
“W-what?”
He shakes me slightly. “If it hadn’t been you,” he says, “then it would have been someone else. So, don’t you for one fucking second regret it because I don’t.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “I don’t regret a second of knowing you. I don’t regret what pulled me up from my life in the shadows. I don't regret meeting the others—meeting you.”
Eyes the color of tree roots stare back at me. They’re so earthy, full of natural richnes
s. Fire and stone. I blink and his mouth is against mine, his lips crushing mine. My eyes slide closed of their own accord.
I drown in Holden’s kiss. For the first time in a long time, I just let go. I forget. I forget about all of the pressure weighing down on me. I forget about Obidian in my mind, his presence always there, hidden and, sometimes, like now, out of reach. He’s giving us our space. I appreciate it.
“Nerys,” Holden whispers as he breaks the kiss, touching his forehead to mine. His chest rises and falls rapidly.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. It feels like an admission that’s been building for a hell of a long time, but when it’s finally out there, I’m not sure if I’m horrified or relieved.
Holden sighs, inhaling and exhaling a heavy breath. “I don’t think any of us do,” he replies and, somehow, that makes it better. Even if we’re drowning under the weight of the threats following us, even if Edwin is chasing me down and Madam Armaita is in danger of losing her life, there is no loneliness between us. Holden opens his mouth to say something more, but in the distance, a shout of discovery echoes towards us.
“We best go see if they’ve found a place to bed down for the night,” he says, pulling away from me, leaving me bereft of his company and his warmth.
As I follow Holden back to the others, I watch his back with a churning desire in my gut. What’s wrong with me? I wonder. It’s almost as if all of my emotions are running around unchecked. My mind is murky and dazed as if I’m drugged or drunk. Perhaps I’m walking around in a fog of my own making. Whatever the case, I know I need to find my way out, and soon if I ever hope to get us out of this mess.
Titus and Coen find shelter in a small cave near the mouth of the mountain pass. As night draws nearer, we bed down and Luca builds us a fire. The barely there shadows of the flames dance across the stone walls, projecting strange images with their wavering forms. I watch them for a long while, letting my mind wander and drift. I can feel Obidian drifting with me, confused, trying to latch onto my worries, but there are so many it’s hard to pinpoint a main one.
Booker is the first to fall asleep—a testament to how exhausted he must be. I wonder if the spell he used back in Euron is having any lingering effects. I’m not knowledgeable about his magic—or any magic really. I have to wonder why Obidian chose me. I know nothing. I suck at learning...I was always a poor student. What about me is special at all?
Intelligence is key, but intelligence comes in many forms, a familiar voice answers.
I sigh. Of course you’d say something vague like that, I reply.
It is not intentionally vague, Obidian says. Your worth does not lie in what you can learn, but in the character and strength of your soul. You do not have to be, as you might say, academically intelligent, but you have heart and loyalty and the resolve to make difficult choices.
Are you saying that I’ll have to make difficult choices? I ask.
Obidian’s presence in my mind fluctuates as if he is unsure how to respond or, perhaps, unsure as to why I don’t already know the answer. You’ve already begun making those choices, he finally says.
That doesn’t necessarily make my night any easier and, when my eyes slide closed, all I can see is Edwin waiting for me on a cliff. His hands reach out, attempting to capture me before I slip away like mist in the night. But the next thing I know it’s Coen and Booker trying to capture me. Holden and Titus. Luca. They all reach for me, but I’m drifting...drifting. My form is not stable and I'm unable to touch them any longer.
Tears leak out of my eyes and my head spins. There is something wrong with me, I know it. I am no longer able to speak to them. My mouth opens and I cry out, but no sound emerges. Where am I? I wonder. Who am I? What is happening?
When morning comes and Booker is the one to wake me, I jump with a start and stare up at him, reaching out for his hand. Awkwardly, he allows me to clutch onto him. He even lets me sigh into the flesh of his palm, smelling his scent, committing it to memory for fear that I’ll forget if I turn to mist again. But as dawn spreads its wings, I know it’s time to move.
“Nerys?” Booker’s voice is soft as I finally release his hand. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. But it’s not a 'no.' I just can’t answer him. I’m not sure. He watches me carefully as I gather what little things we brought and move to stand, but he must somehow sense my growing discomfort because he doesn’t press me for a true answer.
Luca puts out the fire and we make our way up the mountain, hoping against hope that we can find sanctuary with the holy people of the mountain. Praying that the gods will protect us here.
We're halfway up the mountain, the sun on our backs, the snow in our faces, when a tingle of warning shoots through my spine. I freeze and Holden bumps into my back, the angle of where he is, a foot or so down the mountain behind me, making him smack his face into my shoulder. I whirl around, and he's rubbing his nose as he looks up at me in confusion. "What the—"
"Get down!" I scream, diving for him.
In a split second, the world erupts into swirling chaos. A fiery arrow flies over my head where Holden had been standing just moments before. We roll down a little ways, our bodies sinking into the snow, which does little to cushion us as we slam into the hard ground.
"Soldiers!" I hear Coen shout.
Booker's voice rises above the rest as we scatter and, soon, he returns the soldier's arrow with a glowing ball of fire. And then another and another. Holden moves to stand, helping me up as I stumble sideways in the snow.
"Weapons," Titus says sharply. "We can't hold them off, we have nothing!"
"Hold on!" Booker says. "I can—fuck!" he dives as several more arrows come flying our way.
Nerys. Obidian's voice in my mind is a welcome intrusion.
Obi! What do I do?! I ask him and even I can tell my internal voice is panicked.
Let the heat in, he says.
What does that mean? I ask, watching as Booker gets back to his feet. Coen grabs Titus and tugs him up. We're all trying to rush up the mountain. The Sanctuary. We need to get there and maybe we can seek help.
Do you remember the bounty hunters? Obidian asks sharply. Remember the anger, Nerys. Let it back in. Let it heat you from the inside. Concentrate it where you need it. Protect your potentials. Protect your friends. You must let it consume you, but not overtake your mind.
Easier said than done. I try to do what he's asked, clearing my mind, remembering my anger. But it feels so far away. I pull up the memory of Holden being threatened, but it feels so long ago. It's murky in my mind, watered down. Holden grabs me, disrupting my concentration. I shake him off in irritation, but he grabs me again.
"Nerys!" he yells, his face flushed. "What are you doing? We have to go!"
"Let me just—" I try, but once again he interrupts me by yanking me forward until I stumble and slam my knees into the ground when I go down. When my free hand sinks into the snow, it melts under my fingertips. Anger shoots through my bones as I shrug him off. "Let me go!" I snap, a fire building under my skin, slithering up through my veins.
I turn and gasp as an arrow wavers in my field of vision, aiming straight for my chest. Luca calls out behind us, my name leaving his lips far too late as the arrow slams into my sternum...and disintegrates.
I stare as ash rains down my front. Holden takes a step back, his eyes widening as the snow around me melts under my feet. I can feel the heat, wild and raging, consuming me just like Obidian had said it would. When I feel it encroaching on my mind, I slam the doors to my mind palace closed.
The next arrow that hits me meets the same fate as the first. I look up, catching sight of the soldiers heading for us in near distance. Behind them, archers pull back their bows. Where are their guns? Almost as soon as I have that thought a bullet whizzes past. I reach out my hand, concentrating all of my anger, my fire, into my palm. I push it out, spreading it far and wide, a wall of heat and then with a shove, I send it towards the soldiers. W
hen the wall of heat hits the running soldiers, a few cry out in pain and many more go down, but the distance must weaken the heat because nothing turns to ash.
I try again and once again, I take down only a few soldiers. The rest manage to get up and start after us again. Sweat beads on my brow. My heart beat thumps wildly in my chest. My arms start to ache, and that ache spreads out, up my arms to my shoulders and back and then down to my legs.
Nerys, it is too much. You are using too much. Spreading it too thin, Obidian warns me. But I’m already trying again.
I start to shake as I focus all of the heat back into my palm. This time when I push out a wall of heat, praying to the Gods that it’ll work, I collapse after it leaves me.
Arms come around me—Luca’s and then Holden’s. They must have sensed that I was no longer a danger. I’m cold and sweating and shaking and shivering as they look from me to the coming soldiers. I failed, I realize. Weakness assails me as my vision blurs.
Luca swings me up into his arms and backs up, Holden moving with us. “Can we run the rest of the way?” Holden asks.
“Not while trying to dodge the arrows.” Titus' voice sounds far away as darkness steals away my eyesight. All I can do is hear and feel them around me, gathering close, panic and fear on the air.
“What is that?” Coen’s voice intrudes, a hopeful, albeit confused note coloring his tone.
“Is that what I think it is?” Holden asks, that same hope building in his voice as well.
I want to ask what it is, what they’re talking about. I want to see it for myself. But I’m already descending. The last thing I hear is Booker’s relieved voice.
“It’s the Holy Order,” he says. “They’ve come for us.”
9
The Sanctuary
I come awake slowly, like rising from the depths of a deep ocean. I feel warmth along my back that sneaks around to my front. When I crack open my eyes, I see a large familiar palm cupping my stomach, holding me close to the massive chest at my back. The massive and warm chest. Peeking over my shoulder, I relax when I realize it's Luca. At least, I assume it's Luca.