by Lisa E Parry
“You do not own your own soul, Warwick. Only you can get close to Anarch. He cannot own you, you are untouchable, his necromancy can’t hurt you - only his basic powers can and that is not where his strength lies.” Warwick grinned.
Dorian stepped closer, “How can we use this knowledge to our advantage?”
“You mean how can we use me?” Warwick added.
Before a plan began to take form in my mind, my eyes wandered out the window to look upon the darkened city below. I crossed my arms. “How could Oliver have foreseen this?” I turned to the two men standing before me, ready to go to war with hope now flowing through their veins. “I think our ghostly friend has some explaining to do.”
“Well, when you have an idea of what we can do, find me.” Warwick left the room on unnaturally silent feet.
I sighed as the door closed behind him. He could get into the castle undetected. How far would the vampire go to save Melissa? I reassuringly thought he would die for her. Was it worth sending him in? Melissa had to complete her tasks for Anarch before she was free of him anyway. Maybe we could send him in to get information instead… Perhaps he could find out which towns and cities the necromancer had his eye on overrunning first and what the girl must do under his instruction. We could better prepare ourselves if we knew what was to come.
It would take too long for Warwick to get back to us though, and if he died in the process then we would remain one step behind again. Perhaps Oliver would come back to us. I was unsure where his true allegiance now lay, but I had to find a way to use Warwick. I was sure Oliver knew I would figure it out. I tapped my lip in speculation.
Dorian brought me back into the room. “We need to get everyone together as Elfina suggested. We may come up with something if we all throw ideas around. For the moment, we need to find out where Anarch’s army is and stop him from wreaking havoc in its wake – or unleashing Melissa upon innocents.” I nodded.
Dorian fell silent, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He pushed his hair out of his face. “We can’t fight her,” he murmured. He stared intently at me as though he could will me out of taking drastic action against his wishes. “I will not allow it.”
“And if she takes lives?”
“Cheri…She is better than that, I know she will find a way to fight it.”
“If she can’t?” I pressed.
“Cheri…”
I took Dorian’s hand and clutched it with both of mine. This was tearing him apart – it pained me to see it. It would be impossible to console him. If it came to it, then we would have to take her down. It was why I hadn’t included him in my conversation with Aidan and Elfina. If he knew our contingency plan, then he would survey our actions and possibly get in the way to prevent us. With Dorian emotionally compromised, he needed someone else to make heartless decisions for him. That was my job. “Let’s not trouble ourselves over that just yet.”
***
Chapter 20
“Do it now,” Anarch commanded impatiently of me.
“No!” I winced as pain crumpled me to my knees.
“Melissa, I order you…”
I screamed against invisible restraints that grasped my soul and choked it. Pain coursed through my very being. “Stop it!” It was a test of allegiance to see how his power over me had taken hold. I had to kill a man in front of me. He was a jabbering wreck, gagged and visibly shaking. All I saw was the top of his head as he knelt prostrate before me with his head resting on the grey stone floor. A heart-breaking sob wrenched out of him and I was unaware of how time passed. I had rolled on the floor and slammed my fists into it, but my magic hadn’t come to my aid. Instead, it surged every time Anarch gave me an order. I didn’t know how long I could take his punishments…
“Melissa, I won’t kill you. The torture will last for as long as you deny me. Ten minutes or an eternity, you will do as I ask. Or I could just make you. I’m trying to give you the choice to do the right thing. It’s a lot less tiresome than controlling you completely.” Anarch was practically purring.
I was in the foetal position upon the chilly floor. I knew what he meant. He could control me outright if he so desired. By God, I couldn’t bear that. To lose myself would be the last thing I wanted. Pain struck me once again and during my writhing I hit my head several times causing it to throb. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and the cries of the innocent man who hoped against hope that I wouldn’t break and kill him. But then the man fell silent… I looked up curiously. He raised his head and used magic to remove his gag and restraints. When he stood, I stopped breathing.
Henrik looked down on me. Henrik.
How could this be? I had killed him - annihilated him. He sneered at me with those pale, milky eyes and crooked smile that twisted into an ugly contortion with that wicked scar. A sob broke out of me.
“No!” I screamed. It was impossible! Anarch’s words coursed through my mind from earlier: “I can give him flesh for his spirit to inhabit…” Had he resurrected Henrik?
I would do it this time – a proper job. You deserve to die, you deserve to die! Despite my limbs yelling at me in protest, I stood and willed my magic to come to me. It came.
Henrik took a step back, summoned his powers and shot Anarch a glance of concern. Yes, you should be afraid. I shattered his shield upon materialisation, then pointed to his chest and clenched my fist to cease his heart from its cheating beat. He dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough… Not for him. He should not remain in one piece. Spells from the Magia Ater rocketed out of my memory and I picked the most vile and permanent. My magic had dammed up and was ready for a short, sharp burst of precision. Darkness clouded my vision as black magic sang in my veins - an alluring song that beat tiny vibrations throughout my body.
Henrik exploded into a hundred pieces. Blood and gore drenched me, but I knew I wore satisfaction on my face. I felt nothing - cold and slightly detached from reality. It was done. He would not rise again.
Laughing echoed around me in the distance. In an attempt to raise my own shield, I found my power had fled. Darkness lingered at the edges of my vision. I looked around at the scattered remains of Henrik. Henrik? My sensibilities came rushing back. He couldn’t have been alive…
Oliver stood in the corner of the room with his hands clutching his scruffy hair. He looked at me as though I were a monster.
Anarch came into my narrowed vision with glee upon his face. “Wonderful. How creative.”
Then it dawned on me. I had killed the innocent man. No, I had obliterated him. A shaking hand came to my mouth. Blood coated it. I dropped to my knees and wretched on the floor amongst entrails. My breathing came in short gasps. When I was finally done, I looked up at the necromancer with cold rage. “You tricked me!”
“Yes, well I don’t have all day. And now I must clean all this up. It was well worth the wait. I needed to make an example of him.” He inclined his head towards a frightened crowd of men by the door. When had they appeared? Their faces were drained of colour and puddles of vomit sat in front of each of them. Anarch followed my gaze. “You are dismissed.” On shaky legs, they hurriedly vacated the room.
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and wished I hadn’t. “Who were they?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“How did you know what Henrik looked like?”
“I can see into your mind.”
I didn’t believe him. My blurry vision settled on Oliver… Something wasn’t being said.
“You are dismissed. Back to your room.” He clasped his hands behind his back and gave me a short nod. I tried to fight the urge, but I stood and left the room without another word.
I strode purposefully along the corridors of black stone, tears rolling down my cheeks. An icy wind blasted me through multiple archways. It was dark. Only the moon shone down upon the landscape surrounding the obsidian castle. Barren land stretched out with craggy outcrops of low-lying hills. In this light, they looked like teeth as
the moon’s rays caught them - teeth belonging to demons and monsters of nightmares. I fitted right in. I wanted to jump out the window and end it, but I had no control of my legs as they marched me to my room.
Anarch was slowly breaking me - one piece at a time. What would be left of me after this? Do I even want to live through this? I would be broken beyond repair and I knew no one would be able to piece me back together. Broken. I thought about Dorian. My bargain with Anarch was all because of him and I would do it again. He was free in the world and fighting for good. It was worth it.
“I wondered what the stink in this vicinity was.” It was Etheldreda’s silky voice that took my mind off Dorian. I marched on, incapable of stopping.
I looked upon her as she walked beside me. “The stink will wash off in a bath,” I told her. “Nothing can wipe the grime from your soul though. When I kill you, it will probably end up where it belongs – in a pile of dog shit.”
Etheldreda threw back her golden head with a bark of laughter. “You will not kill me. As long as you’re under Anarch’s influence, you cannot hurt me. But I can hurt you without even touching you.”
An impenetrable wall abruptly ceased my mindless charging and my nose broke as I collided with it. It didn’t end there though. Under Anarch’s orders, I was still trying to reach my destination. I pushed and pushed myself against Etheldreda’s wall, squashing my face and chest. I panted, trying desperately to peel myself away from it, but my disobedient body continued to push forwards.
Etheldreda’s black eyes bored into mine as she positioned herself in front of me. “Don’t threaten me or we shall have more meetings like this.” She morphed into a slinky black cat and stared at my struggles a moment longer before padding away. Only when she was out of sight did the invisible wall disappear. I fell forwards, staggered to my feet and continued onwards – blood pouring out of my nose. When I reached my room, and slammed the door shut behind me, I used magic to repair the break. I was permitted self-healing at least.
Anarch had forbidden me to use magic against him and his men, or to make any attempt to leave and to try and contact my friends. In doing so, he had muted my telepathic connection with Dorian. I felt hollow after he did that – a tiny spark of me snubbed out.
My entrapment in the castle was a little cushier than Henrik’s accommodation. I had a large room with a balcony and separate bathing room. I peeked inside when tendrils of steam leaked out from under the door. Perhaps his servants had preceded me and run the bath for my arrival. A small mercy.
I took two baths. I cleansed the disgusting water of blood then slid back into clear, foamy and purified water. No matter how hard I scrubbed my sore skin, it felt like the blood was still there. I felt stained and tainted. I had just killed an innocent man. How could I come back from this?
After scrubbing until my skin burned red, I tried to ease back and relax. It turned out to be an impossible task. I made ready for bed and lay beneath a canopy of blood red drapes. What am I going to do? It was a mindless plea for help into the darkness - one I knew no one would answer.
Of all places, I was back in that damned forest where Anarch had relentlessly taught me necromancy. Why bring me here? I was locked up in his inky castle. Mind tricks again? He has control of my soul. I recoiled from the thought of him messing with my mind yet again.
A cold wind tried to leach in through my woollen dress. I rubbed my arms. It was never usually cold. Come to think of it, the forest was different. It was dark. Twilight smeared the sky in the distance - a smudge of dark purple with the first stars twinkling overhead in the canopy of black that threatened at any moment to consume the lasting light.
An ominous feeling cocooned me in a shadow of doubt. This was wrong. This wasn’t Anarch’s doing…
“You are absolutely right,” a female voice echoed out of the dark woods. In the fading light, the trees skirting the clearing looked like they had been contorted into unnatural, painful positions. No birds sang; no small animals watched from the mossy floor. The voice that had spoken was familiar, yet alien in its accent.
To my horror, I watched myself step out of the treeline. Rooted to the floor, I could only assess the other me from head to toe in disbelief. She wore armour shaped perfectly to the curves of her body - an extension of herself in that metal. Somehow it caught the gleaming light hugging the horizon. It was dented, scratched and marked all over - but it had not been pierced anywhere. My eyes were then drawn to the pommels of two swords standing prominent above each shoulder. They promised a swift death to anyone who challenged this woman.
On approaching, she looked up and stopped a few feet away from me. Her eyes were slighly different to my own - a touch almond-shaped and almost black. A glimmer of my brown caught the light. Her lithe body was slighter than mine, built solely for combat - a sleek weapon in itself. We shared the exact same brown hair, yet hers was braided at the temples and then left loose to cascade down her back.
In a mirrored action, we both cocked our heads to the right as we assessed each other. If she had any thoughts or reactions on my appearance, she was keeping them to herself. So this was Avellana. She was darkness: the type that sucked the life out of light, out of goodness. In all honesty, I didn’t like the person looking back at me.
“You don’t have to.” I stared at the alien accent coming out of my mouth and she laughed in response, an action that did not reach her eyes. It wasn’t hard to discern that she had suffered in the past and caused suffering in her wake. Silver scars decorated her porcelain skin. Every move and action was calculated. What did she see when she looked at me?
“Do you really wish to know?”
“Stop doing that!” I retorted.
She shrugged. “Your mortal mind is an open book. I shall tell you what I see, whether you like it or not. You are weak-minded, girl. No wonder so many unhinged bastards prey on you. You’re easy pickings. It would be so easy to send you over the edge. In fact, I’m quite astounded you aren’t already there.”
I imitated her shrug. “You’re not the only one.” Indeed, there was a darkness in my mind that was always there. Waiting … sleeping. I had banished it to the farthest confines of my mind and sometimes I could convince myself it wasn’t there; but it was. Always. A black chasm lay in wait, coiled and ready for its opening opportunity - a weak moment like today. I cursed myself.
“I wouldn’t dwell on it too much.”
“What do you know?” I hissed at this alien sharing my body. Couldn’t she just lie dormant too? I could supress her, like I did with the darkness … Black, stained and corrupted spells floated to the surface of my mind.
“You cannot fight me. You will kill yourself, you silly girl. And by that I mean I will kill you, banish your soul to ‘the between’ and occupy your body.”
My mouth hung open in shock and the flood of anger drained away. Avellana clicked her tongue at me. “That darkness does bring out your temper. That’s good. You should use it more often and stop people walking all over you. Let them fear you. Ensuring that people soil themselves at the sight of you is no bad thing.” With her hands now clasped behind her back she began to pace around me, weighing me up. “It’s empowering. Embrace the darkness, feel no remorse in your wrath.” She came back into view after circling me and cocked her head again. “Think what you could do with that magic. I would’ve broken the world apart for the knowledge inside your head. I nearly did - to keep it from him.”
“Who?”
“Anarch, of course.”
I swallowed and saw that she waited for me to ask the question before she supplied the information. “How do you know Anarch?” I blurted. How could she? How long ago had she died? Had I been born instantly after her death? No - Elfina had remarked that she had taken her time in resurrecting …Then how old was Anarch?
I brushed my hair aside as she deliberated her answer. Avellans’s cold eyes aside, the prevailing wind now bit right through my dress and sent chills all over me. She appeared unaffect
ed by our environment.
“There is a lot I must tell you, and so much I need to conceal from you.”
“Tell me what you can. I have a few questions for you too.”
She inclined her head. “Naturally.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“My own. Be assured I want to see Anarch dead.” Blunt and to the point. She had her own agenda and didn’t want to impart that information just yet.
“What do you want from me?” I tried to calm my inner turmoil. Does she want to use me too?
“I do not wish to use you. To answer your direct question, I have a favour to ask. In return, I will give you knowledge and train your currently useless, weak body to fight. No offense, but Dorian’s training was … lacking. Because he loves you, he would not be brutal enough. We have magic, we can train properly and heal quickly.” I raised my eyebrows. No messing with her.
Yes, I guessed Dorian had been a little lenient with me, but I hadn’t held it against him. Anything he taught me was a bonus. I’d had no idea whatsoever how to defend myself, so any instruction was welcome. Training with Avellana would certainly be more ruthless. I bit my lip as I measured her up for a fighting partner. I had no doubt she would be fierce and relentless, but perhaps that’s what I needed. On some level I wanted to be like her - feared and capable. This spurred me on. “What is the favour?”
“I shall ask it of you when the time comes.” Great, just like Anarch - taking what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Avellana closed the gap between us. “I will not demand it of you. I want to appeal to your good will. I shall take nothing against your will and I shall not use you against your will. I want an alliance with you. We can work together. My methods may be a little unconvensional, perhaps downright wicked, but know this: fight fire with fire, Melissa. We can use that darkness to our advantage.”
Maybe it was the use of the word ‘we’ that had me teetering towards agreeing with her. That I wouldn’t be alone. That she possibly saw everything I went through, that she could help. We…