by Tenaya Jayne
The sunlight fell brightly on her shoulders that now slumped as she walked away. Her one, treasured hand rubbed the soft fabric of the shirt he'd bought for her. Had she made a mistake? She'd acted out of fear. She acknowledged it. He would hurt her, she knew he would. Had his actions come from fear as well?
Netriet hurried back to Tek and Martia's house and let herself in when no one answered her knock. She went up to the guest room, laid down on the bed, and cried like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Don't cry, my sweet. Don't cry. It's for the best. He's not the man for us.
"Go back to hell."
I know what I'm talking about because I didn't come from any hell. I came from the world's heart. I feel everything. Feeling is all I know. And I know when it's true .Let me guide your heart. Trust me.
"Never."
****
Netriet carefully avoided Merick for two days. Then preparations for the annual bazaar consumed everyone in the Fair. She was flung headlong into the action, and she loved it. People were starting to remember her name. And since her skillset was still unknown, even to her, she became a gofer. She didn't mind. It was fun, and she didn't have to be in charge of anything. Merick, likewise, seemed to be avoiding her. She could forget about him…most of the time.
The night before the bazaar began, the Fair's usual evening party didn't happen. Three long rows of brightly colored tents sat empty and ready for the traveling merchants to set up their temporary shops in the morning. Everyone was exhausted.
Netriet sat at the table in Tek and Martia's house, enjoying a late dinner, when her happy bubble was popped.
Tek finished his dinner, pushed his plate away, and patted his stomach. "Well, I think I'll go to bed and leave you ladies to your evening chat fest, which I'm sure is about to ensue."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," Netriet said vibrantly. "I'm too excited about tomorrow."
"Well, since you're so perky, would you mind taking this to Merick?" Martia asked, setting a covered plate of dinner leftovers in front of her. "He's on guard tonight. I always give him something warm when he has to keep watch all night. Poor thing, the cold makes his back ache."
"Oh…I…"
"What's wrong?" Martia asked.
Both of them were staring at her. She swallowed. She hadn't told them anything about her and Merick, and since she didn't want to, she quickly smiled. "Sorry. My mind had gone off somewhere else. Sure, I can take this to Merick."
She leaned against the front door, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. She would get it over with as quickly as possible. Hand him the plate, tell him Martia sent it, and come right back. Then the next time she had to see him, it would be easier.
He was leaning against the gate, his arms crossed, looking at the ground. His head came up when he heard her approaching, a scowl creasing his brow. She tried to keep her gait purposeful and meet his gaze defiantly, but his cold look made her so sad. She missed the warmth she used to feel in those dark eyes. The pull was still there, in the air between them, as strong as it ever had been.
"Martia sent this for you…she asked me to bring it."
"Thank you." He took the plate from her.
She hesitated a moment, unsure before turning to walk away. She made it a few steps.
"Netriet?" It was the first time she'd heard him say her real name.
"Yeah?"
He was smirking at her. "I've been thinking about you."
She opened her mouth then closed it again. Damn him. Her mind seemed to have stalled. No retort came to her, just the memory of the sensation of his mouth on hers. She squared her shoulders and kept walking. When Netriet got back to the house, both Tek and Martia had gone to their room. She climbed the stairs and sat down on the bed, suddenly and inexplicably tired. The shadow was moving in a way she had never felt before. She sighed deeply. It was like a massage, warm and comforting. Her eyes closed, and she lay back on the bed, hardly registering the lullaby the shadow sang quietly. Only a second before she fell asleep did she think to try to resist whatever the shadow was doing. Then it was too late. She dropped off as though drugged, unaware what the shadow was planning, unaware it was even possible.
****
Merick paced back and forth, his eyes and ears on guard, but his mind and heart had followed Netriet when she walked away. He cursed himself for the fool he was. The best thing he could do was leave her alone. He wasn't capable of saving her. He was pathetically broken himself. He pulled his memories from the depths of his heart and held them close. Geanna, his son Michael, his little girl Marah. He touched their faces. They were frozen, exactly the same as when they died. The dead didn't speak to him. No matter how much he wished, they never spoke.
"What should I do?" he whispered. "Can I love someone again?"
Movement in his peripheral vision startled him. He turned to see Netriet walking toward him. He was immediately alarmed, not that she was there, but by the way she moved. It was like the flow of water, steady and sensual. His alarm rose to another level as she came closer. Her eyes were closed. Sleepwalking.
He didn't move as she came within arm's reach and stopped. She opened her mouth and let it hang open.
"Merick…Merick…" His name came from her mouth even though she hadn't moved her lips. The voice was not hers.
He'd never seen anything like it, and it terrified him. "You know my name," he said gruffly, "but I don't know yours."
A terrible hissing laugh came out of Netriet's mouth. "Your bravado doesn't fool me. I can taste your fear in the air."
"Yeah, unless I'm mistaken, I've tasted you too, in Netriet's blood. And guess what, you taste rotten."
"I want you to leave Netriet alone. She's mine. You've hurt her enough already. She's been through too much for the careless likes of you."
"Oh, so you're worried about her heart?" he challenged. "I don't know who or what you are, but she doesn't want you. You've stolen away inside her, and you're the one who needs to leave. You're the one who's unwelcome."
Netriet's strange eye snapped open. The other remained shut. The black tendril moved and filled the entire iris until the amber color was completely swallowed in black. It was looking at him.
"Stay away, or I'll kill you."
"And if you can't?" he growled.
"Then I'll kill her."
Her eye shut, her mouth shut, and she turned and walked away. Merick watched, angry, terrified, and renewed in his resolve to save Netriet…somehow.
Chapter Seven
Baal swirled the clear liquid in the cylinder and held it up to his face. Tiny sparkles flared with the movement of the liquid and winked out as it became still. He took a deep breath and swirled it once more. The lights winked at him and died out just as quickly. His hand shook as he placed the cylinder back on the table and tried to school his rage and despair. The elixir was wrong, again.
His ruby eyes drifted over the stack of open books he'd taken from the Rune-dy's library. He'd found nothing in there to help him achieve his goal. He cursed himself. The fault must lie with him. He was too new in the Rune-dy's ways, still a novice scientist. He knew Rahaxeris could do it. He knew Menjel could do it. Maybe even Hezeron could manage what he attempted, but none of them would help. They would cast him out if they learned of it. Baal imagined shoving the pile of books to the floor and lighting them all on fire. The mental image brought him no satisfaction as he carefully shut each volume.
He wasn't giving up. He'd just go back to Maxcarion. He swore to himself as he remembered he owed the crusty old wizard. Not only would Maxcarion not help him again, but he'd probably fry him into a pile of ashes for coming back empty-handed.
He looked around his great room. The lamplight glinted off his treasures. His priceless collection of items imbued with power and magic. There were many things he could take to Maxcarion in exchange for his help, some he had purchased from the old man himself. But his heart ached at the thought of giving up even one. And the blasted wizar
d said he wanted an undamaged Talereneain artifact.
Baal paused. What had the old man said? The Fair. He could find valuable things at the Fair. He checked his clock. He'd worked through the night, and the morning was almost gone. He pocketed a small fortune of coins and grabbed a plain grey cloak on his way out of his cave. The sunlight burned his eyes. He yawned as he put up his hood, the night's fruitless work finally catching up with him. He went invisible before opening a portal to the wilds near the Fair, close to where Forest lived. There was no way he was going to drop his invisibility, unless he found something he wanted to buy.
****
The first light of day came through Netriet's window, waking her in a state of surprise. She hadn't remembered falling asleep. She hadn't even been tired. Merick had stirred her up before she came back to Tek and Martia's house, but then what? She couldn't remember. Now it was morning.
Netriet felt her cheeks grow hot, even though she was alone, as she remembered how Merick said he'd been thinking about her. She was sure she would run into him later, and she made a point to wash and comb her hair. She avoided mirrors as a rule, but she forced herself to look and try to work with what she had and not let it depress her. She still didn't have anything to wear except the clothes Merick had given her. She loved the amber shirt more than she would ever admit to him, but finding something new was on her list of things to look for today.
As the merchants began to arrive and go through registration, there was more noise and movement than she had yet to experience at the Fair. The shadow moved as though agitated or gleeful, she couldn't tell, and it remained quiet. No one seemed to need her help now, and she felt a little in the way. She kept her eyes open for Merick so he didn't catch her off guard.
As the makeshift shops were filled with eye-catching trinkets and wares, excited shoppers began filing through the Fair's front gate. Netriet moved to the sidelines and watched in amazement how the different cultures stood together in the crowd and conversed easily with one another. Forest had accomplished so much in such a short time. Netriet raised her head a little higher as she realized she had played a vital part in the creation of the new republic by killing Philippe.
As more and more people came in, a nasty thought came to her. She might run into someone who recognized her. Sure, she was telling the truth to her new friends about her identity, but this was her starting over place. She didn't want the past crowding her here. Or worse, a relative, realizing she was alive and dragging her back to Halussis. She shuddered at the thought and turned away from the attractive bazaar.
With the rows of tents as the main attraction, Netriet thought she'd be safe looking at the permanent shops of the Fair. A small store caught her eye; the front window was filled with beautiful clothes, fabrics, and jewelry.
A bell chimed as she opened the door and walked in.
"Welcome. Come in and look around." Renee, the old elf woman came toward her. "Oh, it's you, Netriet. I was wondering when you might come to my shop."
Netriet smiled stiffly. She should have realized this was Renee's store. Martia had told her about it. Not that she would have avoided it, per say, but the old woman had sharp, probing eyes. Netriet could tell she caught details others missed.
"Martia didn't lie, you have beautiful things," Netriet offered brightly.
The old woman smiled sideways. "Relax, girl. You're too high strung."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"
Renee coughed out a gravelly laugh. "I can see I make you nervous. I'll take that as a compliment. But I'll leave you alone to shop…I know you're short on funds, so if you fall in love with something you can't afford, let me know. I might be persuaded to barter."
"How do you know I'm short on funds?" Netriet demanded.
"I know all kinds of things. Some I hear, and some I see and reason the answers. Don't be offended. No one's been telling me tales about you."
Before Netriet could think of a reply, Renee turned and shuffled away. She made herself a stern mental note to always watch what she said and did around Renee. The old woman was a detective without a case.
Netriet walked slowly through the shop, running her fingers gently along the fabrics. Memories rushed on her. Memories of Christiana's court. Times when her life was consumed in the details of dresses and jewelry. Sorrow clung to her memories. She'd been so ungrateful. Her life had been easy and filled with pleasure, only suffering mild irritations. But she'd also been narrow-minded. In some demented way, she was thankful for where she was now. Not thankful for what had happened to her, what she'd lost, or for the shadow, but thankful for a wider view of the world. Through trials, she'd learned she was a fighter. That was something to be proud of.
Her mind wandered in the soft sea of textures. A table laid with various blues caught her eye, and she moved to it. The shop bell chimed as someone else came into the store. Renee greeted the new shopper. Netriet thought about what Renee might offer her as barter for the sky-colored skirt she held. How long would it take her to work it off?
"Oh, that's lovely. Are you going to buy it?"
Netriet looked up into the face of the woman next to her and felt as though she'd been doused with cold water. Could her luck get any worse?
Syblee's eyes widened with shock. She looked almost the same as the last time Netriet had seen her, on the day Christiana had Netriet arrested. Syblee was always Christiana's favorite courtier. Netriet remembered Syblee's smirk as she was hauled away in chains.
"Oh, my! It can't be you! It's not you, Netriet. It's not you, is it?"
Netriet stood frozen, her heart breaking preemptively before Syblee could say anything else.
Syblee took a step back, an evil glint in her eyes. "It is you. My goodness, I thought you were dead. By the looks of you, I'm not totally sure you're not…ugh. I'd ask what happened to you, but I don't want the nightmares. The look of you alone is going to keep me awake at night."
"Leave me alone, Syblee."
"That's rude. Is that any way to talk to an old friend? Geez, you've lost your arm, and that eye! What the hell is that in your eye? Disgusting."
Everything inside Netriet closed up.
"Hey, bitch." Renee came up behind them. "I suggest you get out of here before I kick your pampered ass."
Syblee looked contemptuously down at the old woman and smiled. "I'm leaving. I wouldn't sully myself with anything Netriet might think is good." She grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled until it fell to the floor. "Oops."
Syblee laughed as she sashayed out of the shop. Netriet had turned to stone. She couldn't move. Renee patted her shoulder.
"Just breathe, girl," Renee ordered. "The past can have some sharp teeth."
The shadow rose to the surface like a tidal wave. You're pathetic! Look at that old woman. She has pity in her eyes! Pity! We can't let this insult pass. Do something.
"NO!" Netriet screamed at the shadow.
Renee jumped back, startled.
Then I will!
The darkness twisted and pulled, wrapping itself around her bones and muscles. It covered her heart, filled her eyes, and rose up her throat. It reached up from her depths and pulled Netriet down, down, down. Her reason was washed over with raw, unthinking emotion, crazed with lust for blood. Syblee's blood. She would have it. Right now.
Netriet became a passenger in her own body, unable to stop. Her vision tunneled on the shop door where Syblee had exited. She shoved Renee to the side and followed her target. Nothing mattered, not the people watching, not the consequences, nothing but Syblee's neck, breaking under her fingers, drinking her blood.
Syblee hadn't gotten far. The hair was first. She grabbed a handful and pulled so hard Syblee was jerked backward off her feet. The screaming was terrible. The shadow loved the sound of her terror. Netriet pinned her on the ground, holding her arms down with her knees. She slapped Syblee in the face so hard it felt as though her hand would detach at the wrist.
"You think you know me? You have no idea who yo
u're dealing with. I'll show you."
Netriet grabbed Syblee's collarbone between her thumb and forefinger and pinched. The aberrant strength of the shadow pulsed into her hand. Syblee's bone snapped like a dry twig under the pressure of her fingers. Loud sobs punctuated her screams.
Ugh, shut her up!
Netriet sank her fangs into Syblee's throat. Her screams turned into a cough and a gurgle as blood filled her mouth. Netriet could end her life in a second, but that was too easy, too fast.
There will be more. More pain, more mutilation. She doesn't like your eye? Take one of hers.
Netriet raised up, licking the blood around her mouth and running her index finger under each of Syblee's eyes. Which one? The right one…yes.
An arm like a band of metal wrapped around Netriet's waist and lifted her off Syblee. Netriet kicked and thrashed to get back at Syblee, but she couldn't get loose from the arm that held her and whisked her away. Her vision still tunneled around Syblee. People rushed to her struggling form on the ground, and then Netriet couldn't see her anymore. She was in the dark of a tent.
The arms about her turned her around, still crushing her in place. "Netriet! Netriet, look at me! Look at me!"
The shadow stared into the dark eyes of Merick for a second before pulling back. He held her against his chest, his forehead touching hers, his eyes drilling into hers. Netriet writhed and bucked against him as the shadow retracted back down into a smaller and smaller place.
Netriet filled her body again, regaining back the control of her limbs. She cried and trembled, feeling as though she'd just been violently raped.
"There you are." His voice was relieved. "The darkness is leaving your eyes. I can see you."
"Did I kill her?"
"No. She'll live. It's not that bad really. Anyone might think it was just a fight that got out of hand. That's what we'll tell everyone."
Netriet was wrought with emotion. She was in control of her body, but her mind was still spinning.
"Let go of me. Syblee will live because you stopped me. I want her dead!"