Pheros hated to think of the suffering, but he hated more the arrogance that had bred it. He had warned Bayne and Silver not to go through with their alliance, that no Demetrian could be trusted no matter how well-spoken, but they had not listened. Six hundred years after the Kyrean Invasion that had driven all four nations to near extinction, the first one would fall. But Pheros feared it would not be the last. His job was to protect his people and culture, no matter the cost, and he would be damned if he failed in that.
At some point, Pheros must have started running. He sped across the long covered bridge leading onto the forested isle at the center of the walled, circular city. Sweat beaded his forehead as he slowed to a stop. Flicking his wrist, the beads of moisture evaporated instantly, leaving behind only a trace of salt. Straightening his dark blue robes and steel breastplate, he started down the sandy, shell-lined path. A wintry mist hung over the forest and Pheros took a deep breath of the cool, moisture-rich air.
“Pheros.” A figure clothed in brilliant blue, appeared at his right, her soft voice halting him.
“Priestess.” He bowed, walking toward her. A semi-transparent veil interwove her blonde bun and ringlets, obscuring her face. But he knew the face beneath the veil better than most.
“Come,” she said, extending her hand. He kissed it, and she guided him off the path and into the woods. They reached an ivory pergola, and she led him onto the cracked marble floors. In the center was a pond filled with golden fish. The only furnishing was a narrow cot with a few blankets in the far corner. In the opposite corner a small hearth blazed with a comfortable fire. Brilliant colors crackled from the flames as the driftwood burned.
“Do you know why I have come?” Pheros asked, sitting cross-legged beside the pool.
“Yes, as usual I know more than you do on the subject.” She filled a cup from a kettle by the hearth and handed it to him. She reached into the folds of her robe, producing a fine powder which she sprinkled over the fire. It released a sweet, homey aroma.
“You have come to learn whether or not the presence of the Maenoren Resistance will change the battle's outcome between Maenor and Fenear, and whether or not we ought to intervene.”
Pheros nodded as he took a sip of tea. It tasted of hibiscus and rose hips. He had not realized how fast his blood had been pumping until he felt it slow.
“The Maenoren Resistance is a powerful force indeed. They may only be a thousand men, but they have bravery and passion enough to stand up to Rhael Demetrian.” Marielana sighed as she, too, sat cross-legged beside her pool. “Brave and passionate as they are, their presence will change little—other than adding to the number of the dead.” A tear struck the reflection pool with a tiny splash.
Pheros drained his tea and took Marielana’s hand. “If we joined with them…?”
She shook her head. “Rhael Demetrian and his army of the living and the dead would slaughter us all.”
“I will send a message back with the wolf then. Thank you, Priestess.” He stood and walked toward the exit.
“Pheros, wait.” She rose, the gossamer folds of her dress making no sound as she glided toward him. “There is something else.”
“Yes?”
“In Bayne’s letter, he asked for word of his niece.”
“Aye, but that was merely a guilty man’s misguided hope. Rayna Myana was killed by Rhael Demetrian when this war began. Everyone knows that.”
Marielana’s veil quirked with her hidden smile. “I have seen much of a young girl with red hair and the crimson wolf she becomes. These visions came in dreams, not because I asked for them.”
“You are sure this girl is Rayna?”
“As sure as I can be, General.” Marielana settled back on the ground, her dress spreading around her like a puddle shimmering with moonlight.
“What does this mean?”
“She is important. In fact, she has traveled far closer to the veil than I have. I do not know if she will return to the Peninsula, but if she does, the future may change.”
Pheros crouched beside her. “How is that possible?”
“In days of old, when our people still lived in the ancestral homelands, there was a ceremony, a rite of passage. Girls born into a seer line would travel to the Eye of Heaven. There, they would experience an… Awakening. By passing so close to the other realms, their powers would be enhanced. Rayna has done this, and has gone farther. She has been to another realm. In my dreams, I saw her along the black shores.”
Pheros scoffed. “But that means she has been to the Mouth of Hell!”
“So it does. She traveled there to rescue a soul banished by the Sionic Hex. I doubt she understands what this means, though.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means the Fenearen seers are not extinct as we had long believed. If Rayna survives her journey, she will be the most powerful seer in centuries. But,” she hesitated, “it also means someone manipulated the Maenoren Overlord into using the Sionic Hex, a curse he alone would be powerful enough to cast because of the compounded blood magic of the Demetrian line.”
“Why do you think he was manipulated into using such a curse?”
“Because if he'd understood the potential consequences, I fear even Rhael Demetrian would never have dared.”
“What consequences are those, Marielana?” Pheros had thought the Maenorens their largest threat. Was it possible something more sinister than Rhael's ambition lurked ahead? His anxiety deepened, though his training kept his expression calm.
“The veil has been thinning for centuries, but Rhael tore a hole straight through when he sent that poor boy to Hell while he was still alive. I cannot say what this means, but I can tell you it is not good, General. I suggest you let me worry about it for now, though.”
“As you say.” Pheros stood, turning his mind to problems more easily understood. “You do not know where Rayna is currently?”
“No, I have not dreamed of her current location. The waters still sense her, but the messages are…clouded. So much darkness pollutes them.”
“But she is alive?”
“She was alive when I last glimpsed her, but beyond that, I know not.”
“At least I can tell Bayne that.”
“Actually, General, I think I can do more. The wolf rests now in your quarters. I will show him what I have seen, so that he may continue to look for her if he chooses.”
“Show the wolf? Marielana, I cannot begin to understand how the Fenearens communicate with the Trues.” She did not respond. “But clearly you have some idea.”
“Yes, I can transfer this information into his mind. Will you take me to him? I will use the pool in your quarters. Has our Lurenia been caring for all of your altars and ponds?”
Pheros extended his arm to her, and she took it. “She has been diligent, Priestess.”
“Of course. I knew she would make a wonderful maiden. It is a pity she’s engaged.”
“It is. But it could not be helped.”
“No. Indeed not. The heart will follow its chosen path until forced otherwise.”
Pheros murmured his agreement before they left the pergola and headed toward his quarters.
When they arrived, they found the wolf resting on a mat of blankets next to the hearth. Lurenia sat beside him, rubbing the soft spot between his ears as he dozed. Winiam slept on the floor nearby.
“Priestess, General.” Lurenia bowed her head. “They’re both exhausted,” she explained, glancing at the others.
“That is to be expected; they have both had quite a long journey,” Marielana replied. “I must ask that you wake the wolf. I have something to show him.”
Lurenia nodded and nudged him. His yellow-green eyes jumped open as he raised his head.
The Priestess's gaze connected with the wolf's, and she led him toward the pool, motioning him to sit. He obeyed. Marielana took the pitcher Lurenia had filled earlier and poured water onto her palm. She laid her hands on either side of the wolf’s head.
His ears fell flat, but he made no move to break away.
“I am afraid I must ask all of you to leave the room,” Marielana said. Pheros roused Winiam, and, along with Lurenia, they left without question.
Gar, the strange woman channeled his name. I am Marielana, Priestess of Alvorn.
He looked up, baffled. Her voice inside his head told him not to worry, and his eyelids drooped closed. She removed her hands and dipped them back into the pitcher, sprinkling a few drops over his eyelids. He flinched, but did not open his eyes. Marielana placed her fingertips on his temples and whispered something so low that Gar could barely hear it. Then a rash of images, clear as day, crammed into his mind.
Gar understood. The Priestess had seen Rayna in dreams. She was with a young, blond man he recognized as Channon, but Marielana did not know where Rayna was now–only that she had been alive and had been with Channon. As the Priestess pulled her hands away, Gar’s eyes rolled back into their sockets, his head folded to the ground, and all his thoughts melted again into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rayna backed up until she was against the cave wall. The chains pressed into her skin, and Channon crouched beside her, eyeing the newcomer.
It was impossible. Rhael Demetrian could not be here. He was in Maenor, or perhaps Fenear, trying to destroy everything she loved. Yet there was no mistaking the figure condensing out of the shadows. The bronzed skin, the thin lips that had once kissed hers, and of course, the terrible eyes of black and gold. He blocked their only means of escape, approaching them with a satisfied smile.
“It would seem I am interrupting a reunion.” There was no mistaking that hideous, cruel laughter, either. “Or is this supposed to be a rescue?”
“How–how are you… I don’t understand.” Rayna’s stammering dissolved into horrified silence. Months had passed, but nothing had changed. She and Channon were frightened and cornered, and the Overlord, triumphant.
“Ray.” Channon’s claws extended, his brutalized face twisting into a snarl. “It’s not him. Not really. Look closer!”
She spun back to Rhael. At first, she did not understand what Channon meant. This was Rhael Demetrian. Would she not recognize the man she had once meant to wed? The man that had stolen Channon, and in the end, everything from her? But when Rhael twitched his head to the side, reminding her of the Da’ Gammorn, she understood. The creature before them was Rhael–on the surface. But there was someone else, something else, underneath. She could not see what it was, but a few details, a few inaccuracies, registered. Too many teeth gleamed in Rhael’s smile. An ashy sheen grayed his skin, and when he moved, everything seemed to ripple, as if she saw a reflection rather than the man himself.
“You’re not him. You’re not even… human.” Rayna raised her own extended claws.
“Oh, very good, Rayna Myana.” The Rhael demon bowed. “It took young Master Lyallt weeks to understand. Did it not, dear one?”
“Let us go. Have you not had your fill of torturing me?” Channon stepped forward. Rayna could count his ribs with ease, even in the darkness.
“You don’t have much of a soul left to torment, it is true. But…” The demon twitched its head toward Rayna with unnerving speed. It moved closer so it stood less than two tail-lengths from them. “But,” its face and body rippled as its voice changed pitch, dropping to a sarcastic, unkind drawl Rayna knew too well, “the same cannot be said for Miss Myana.” Captain Gabriel Garrison stood where Rhael had been, twirling a knife.
The scar along her abdomen sprang back to life. It burned hot and cold like a fever and she doubled over, clutching her stomach. Channon fell beside her.
“No, Ray! Don’t let it get in your head.” He shook her, and the phantom pain diminished, though her real ones returned with a vengeance.
“I’ll tell you what,” the demon scratched its chin, locking its palms behind its neck in a perfect imitation of the real Garrison, “the terms of the hex promise one human, one child of the False God, to torment. No need to get greedy. You can go, Channon Lyallt.”
“What?” Channon slung his left arm over Rayna. “What are you saying?”
“You’re free, Master Lyallt. Just leave the woman who betrayed you, who sent you here in the first place, for me.”
Tears obscured Rayna’s vision, making it seem like there were three copies of Garrison staring at them. She considered the demon's offer. If it were telling the truth—and there was no guarantee it was—her sacrifice would free Channon. But the demon was right. Channon had been cursed because of her. Rayna's selfish need to prove herself had broken Channon's heart once. She would not repeat that mistake. If she stayed, he would know the same pain she had when she'd lost him.
Channon stiffened. He stood, his hand traveling to her neck and closing around her chin. He tilted it with a gentleness that was rebellion in a place of such violence.
“Together?” she whispered.
“Together,” he said, “or not at all.” Channon did not look away from her as his right arm lashed out. Four deep trenches slashed the demon’s throat, and it toppled over with a hideous gurgle. Channon jumped on top of it, tearing into the demon’s neck with his claws until the thing’s head rolled off.
“Come on!” He pulled Rayna to her feet, and they ran out of the cell. “It won’t stay down for long.”
“But you killed it.”
“It isn't alive, Rayna. You can't kill something that isn't alive. You can only slow it down.” They tumbled over a stalagmite and had to slow their pace to keep from twisting their ankles, or worse. “Which way?” he asked as the cavern split into two corridors.
Rayna stared at the tunnels. Neither of them were familiar. In her panic to escape, she must have run the opposite way from which she came. “I don't know. We have to go back.”
A squelching sound echoed behind them, followed by mad laughter. Rayna’s confusion turned to horror as she understood. The demon had reanimated. There was no returning to familiar ground now. Without stopping to think, Rayna chose the path on the right, tugging Channon along with her. This stretch of cavern was narrower than the others, forcing them to move single-file through the blackness. The cave walls were slick and warm to the touch, and sometimes Rayna’s palms brushed something spongy. The ground rose at a steady incline. Still the corridor narrowed, and Rayna was sure she had chosen wrong, that this cavern would dead-end and they would never escape. Is this supposed to be a rescue? the demon had asked. Rayna glanced over her shoulder at Channon, her best friend for whom she had risked everything. She had found him, and still it was not enough. All of it was going to end in torment, because she had made the wrong decision.
Voices came from behind them. Rhael and Garrison at first, but then others. Bayne, Silver, her mother, Channon’s parents, Thera, Roxen, and more, echoing, slurring into an incomprehensible chorus. The demon alternated between dozens of different voices, as if unsure which would cause them the most pain. When it appeared in the corridor behind them, it had settled in the shape of Rayna’s uncle. Bayne’s claws and teeth were extended, and four livid scars stood out on his neck, healing, but not yet gone.
“I offer mercy, and you reply with death!” It screamed in a voice that was not quite Bayne’s. “You’re mine forever, Channon Lyallt and Rayna Myana. Mine to twist and turn and skin!”
Rayna ran up the constricting cavern with Channon’s breath beating the back of her neck. A greenish light from the island's surface leaked into the blackness from above, but the walls continued to narrow. They dropped to all fours, crawling, scraping through the cave walls toward the sickly light. The demon screamed behind them.
“Rayna!” Channon cried. “We aren’t going to make it!”
She did not respond, pushing forward. They were a tail-length from the surface, but Channon was right. The tunnel had closed in front of them to a hole no bigger than her fist. She crammed her hand through it, digging, but her claws found only stone. She glimpsed the purple trees, saw a pair of t
he birds that had attacked her soaring through the dark sky, but she and Channon would never reach the surface. She turned back to Channon, meeting his blue gaze.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Ray, I can’t watch you suffer like I have. Why didn’t you just leave me here?”
Rayna dropped her arm, edging as close to him as the cave would allow. “I couldn't give up, Channon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The demon crawled toward them, its face a deranged double of Bayne’s with too many teeth. “Mine, all mine,” it sang with glee, “to burn and sever and drown! To break and re-make, to bend and–”
Light seared Rayna’s pupils. She shut her eyes against the pain as the rocks above her shattered, exploding in blue-white fire. A noise like thunder seared her eardrums, and then she could hear nothing but ringing. She and Channon were propelled into the air, before crashing onto the ground. Rayna rolled, forcing apart her eyelids. A blinding light slowly dimmed into the shape of wings around her father's form hovering above them. Spiky trees shimmered like amethysts.
Aquillo had broken them free, landing them on the island's surface. Rayna tried to stand, but she slipped, nearly falling into the chasm left by the explosion. Instead she fell over Channon, pushing them both away from the demon scrabbling up the steaming rift.
The demon still had Bayne’s face, or half of it. The other half was charred and oozing black blood. Its right eye hung loosely from its socket. Its form rippled as Rayna watched. Healing and reforming until Rhael again stared her down, the demon pulled its ruined body through the rubble. Its broken bones popped back into place, and the blue-white fire that had burned it went out with a hiss. Channon groaned, insensate. Rayna formed, facing the demon as a snarling, crimson wolf.
“Rayna!” Her father called from the light above her. She and the demon both looked up. Silvery ichor poured from Aquillo's shoulder, pooling on the black sand beneath him, but he held his sword aloft.
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 32