by S A McClure
She silently prayed to the Light that she and Micah would survive to see another day before sprinting forward. She pushed down with her feet just as she leapt forward and landed on the spider’s head. Swallowing her urge to scream, she jabbed the dagger into one of the spider’s eyes. Its pinchers closed around her thigh.
She screamed. The spider’s saliva mixed with her blood, numbing her. A sinking realization struck her then. She remembered that the spiders were supposed to be able to paralyze their victims by introducing their saliva to their prey’s bloodstream.
She jabbed her finger into another of the spider’s eyes and it released her. She pulled the dagger free and jammed it into the spider’s forehead. It fell backwards, curling up as it went.
She leapt from its body and landed on her injured leg. She cried out in pain and tumbled to the ground.
The two smaller spiders advanced towards her. They seemed scared to approach her, yet there was a fire in their eyes that told her they were void-bent on extracting their revenge for what she’d done to their family. They shared a look with each other before staring her down and then deliberately turning their attention to Micah. They crawled toward him.
“Stay away from him!” she shouted. She attempted to stand but neither of her legs wanted to work. The spider’s venom was already coursing through her body. Slowing her heartbeat.
If she passed out now, while the two remaining spiders were still alive, she would be dead. Micah would be dead, too.
She couldn’t let that happen. Digging her nails into the soil, she dragged herself forward. Blood seeped from the ridges of her nails as they broke. She ignored the pain in her hands and the numbness creeping up her body.
She refused to let them turn her into prey.
She was a huntress. She always had been.
They were biting him. Deep bruises formed on his skin as they sucked blood from him. They were so consumed by their meal they didn’t notice when she reached one of them. She jammed the dagger into its leg. It hissed in pain as she wrenched the blade free and plunged in into its backside. Like the others before it, it writhed for several moments before falling onto its back, its legs curling into its chest.
Emma couldn’t feel her abdomen. Or her chest.
She knew her arms would come next.
The remaining spider whipped its head towards her. Its pinchers dripped a mixture of Micah’s blood and its saliva as it lunged for her. Emma didn’t think. She just reacted. She threw the dagger at the spider, praying to the Light that it sank into its heart. That she would be safe.
The venom coursed through her veins and she fainted.
Chapter Twenty-One
Iris
The skeletal knight guided Iris into a room she immediately recognized as Grandmother Rel’s potions room. Jars of various ingredients lined one wall and a long, wooden table rested in the middle of the space. A myriad of mixing bottles, mortars, pestles, and measuring spoons lay on the table in disarray. A wall of shelves contained fully brewed potions. Iris scanned their labels, searching for poisons, but found none.
She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, that most likely meant that Grandmother Rel didn’t intend to poison her. On the other, she couldn’t try to sneak a bottle out of the room to use against the hag later.
“My dear, sweet child,” Grandmother Rel said as she entered the room.
Iris jumped. She hadn’t heard her coming.
“Grandmother Rel,” she said, bobbing her head at the woman.
The witch’s lips curled into a hard, thin smile. “You don’t seem pleased to be here,” she said, pouting. “This whole time, ever since I left you in that ravine, all I’ve been able to think about is being a family again.”
“What family?” Iris muttered.
Grandmother slapped her, hard, across the cheek. Her eyes flashed crimson as she brought her hand up to do it again.
“Our family,” she hissed. “You, me, and Emma. I miss you both dearly.”
Although her cheek stung, Iris met Grandmother Rel’s gaze with any icy one of her one. “We were never a family, Myrella.”
Using her given name instead of ‘grandmother’ felt strange on Iris’s tongue, but she didn’t want to use that term anymore. She was not and never had been her grandmother.
Myrella’s cheeks turned a putrid shade of red as she stared Iris down. “Your sister has had such a bad influence on you,” she said. “I will have to punish her when she comes for you.”
Iris blinked. “What do you mean, when she comes for me? Emma isn’t coming here. She left to join the fight with the royal family.”
“They are fools,” Myrella sighed. “They always have been.”
“I thought you were their friend. A trusted advisor?” she asked.
Myrella shrugged. “Loyalty to the crown is like a breeze during summer. Fleeting.”
Iris didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t say anything at all.
Myrella clapped her hands and smiled at Iris. “I thought it would be nice if we could brew a potion together. Just like the old days.”
There was something about the way she said it that made Iris distrust her intentions.
“What do you really want?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I told you, prove your loyalty to me—”
“How?” Iris asked. “How am I supposed to ‘prove’ my loyalty to you?”
“There is a little task I need you to complete.”
“Of course there is,” Iris said. “What is it?”
Myrella didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she hummed to herself as she crossed the room and pulled ingredients from their shelves. She laid them on the table. Iris read each handwritten label, her stomach sinking as she realized the ingredients could only be for one of a handful of potions.
“What do you intend to make?” she asked tentatively. Her cheek still burned from where she’d been slapped, and she was reticent to anger Myrella further.
“It’s a summoning potion.”
“A dark one,” Iris responded.
Myrella paused, her fingers wrapped around a rat’s skull. She cocked an eyebrow at Iris and asked, “When has that ever stopped you before?”
Iris scrunched up her face in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been brewing dark potions since you were the wee age of nine,” Myrella said with a smile. “You never noticed how we changed books periodically? How some pages were ornately decorated with whimsical, happy things while others were dedicated to the darker side of life?”
Iris shook her head.
“Yes, well, you never were one to recognize things outside of your tunnel vision.”
Iris didn’t like the fact that she’d unwittingly created potions that were steeped in Darkness. She exhaled through her nose to keep herself from saying something she would regret.
“Can I see Liam?” she asked instead. She didn’t know if pressuring Myrella to let her see him would anger the witch or not, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him the entire night she’d been locked in the cell. He deserved to know that she’d come for him.
“The answer is still no, Iris. If you ask again, I will retract my offer and you will never see him again.”
Iris sputtered. She’d come so far to be here. She’d lost Emma. For him. So that she could rescue him.
Iris met Myrella’s gaze and smiled. “I understand. You will let me see him in your own time.”
“I promise.”
She trusted Myrella’s promises as far as she could throw them, which was nowhere.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked again.
“Oh, that,” Myrella replied nonchalantly. “I want you to find someone in the dreamworld for me. Goes by the name of Rhys. You may find him as Maldy.”
“Wouldn’t a job like this be better suited for Emma?” she asked before she could stop herself. She clamped her hand over her lips
before she could utter another word. She’d forgotten that Myrella had already abandoned them by the time Emma realized she had powers.
Myrella leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as she whispered, “Why?”
Iris thought about lying for about two seconds before realizing that this was probably part of the test.
“Emma can track people using magic.”
“She’s a Starseeker? Really?” Myrella asked, rubbing her chin. “Tell me more.”
Iris didn’t want to. In fact, there was nothing she wanted less at that precious moment than to tell the hag about the full extent of her or Emma’s abilities.
She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell, really. Sometimes, she can just sense where people are.”
Myrella frowned. “That’s all?” she asked. “No other senses?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“She always was the weaker of the two of you.”
Iris started to defend Emma. Her sister had always been strong and protective. She had provided for them, even in the darkest and coldest of winters. What had Iris done? Brewed potions and acquiesced to each of Grandmother Rel’s commands.
She hands tightened into fists the more she thought about everything Emma had done for them.
“But, as I was saying, you are the dreamwalker, Iris. No one else can find him for him other than you.” She pointed to a jar on the table.
“And once I find him, what am I supposed to do?” she asked. Her hands shook as she picked up the jar and dumped the contents into a mortar. Little ivory bones clinked in the stone bowl. She looked away as she ground them into a fine powder using the pestle.
“Give him a message for me,” Myrella said. “Tell him that he is welcome to join me here, in Dramadoon. Tell him that I can offer protection to him. Shelter from the growing storm.”
“Who is he to you?” Iris asked. The last time she’d agreed to find someone in the dreamworld, she’d nearly died for her troubles. Of course, that all might have been part of Elilda’s plan.
“He is…” Myrella paused as she sniffed at a bottle of a strange, silvery liquid. “He is an old friend.”
“You don’t have any friends beyond your coven members.” Iris said as she dropped in a handful of bitter smelling leaves. They released a rotten smell as they mixed with the other ingredients. Myrella placed a pair of bat wings on the table along with a few jars containing herbs and parts of dead animals. “And, since you said Rhys is a ‘he,’ I’m going to assume he’s not one your members. So, tell me who he is, really.”
“You’re too smart for your own good, dearie.”
“So, who is he?” Iris repeated. She stirred the potion according to Myrella’s instructions.
“You’ve certainly grown more persistent since we last saw one another,” she hissed.
Iris cringed, anticipating the blow that didn’t come. She stole a glance at Myrella to find her staring at her with a curious expression on her face.
“As I said, he’s an old friend. He’s in a spot of trouble and I would like to him through it, if I can. We all must follow the Light’s path.”
“You swear he won’t hurt me when I find him?” she asked.
“I can’t swear to it, no, but I can promise you this. If he does, I will revoke my offer of aid.”
“That’s just so comforting,” Iris retorted. “If I end up dead, you’ll be sure to extract your revenge by simply not helping him. Got it. And here I thought you were a cold, savage killer.”
Myrella cackled. “I see you’ve gained a sense of humor,” she said. Her expression turned serious as she added, “If you die, I promise I’ll take care of Emma.”
Iris rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t want you anywhere near her, so no, you won’t be taking care of her. If I die, I want you to promise me you’ll leave her alone.” She paused, her thoughts zipping through her mind in rapid succession. “And I want you to release Liam without further harming him.”
“Done.”
She’d agreed too easily, Iris realized. She should have asked for more.
“So, how do we do this?” she asked.
The potion they were making began to bubble. It went from a vibrant violet color to a thick black goo.
“Drink this before you enter the dreamworld,” Grandmother Rel commanded. “And I promise you, it’ll help you find him.”
Iris cocked an eyebrow at the potion. It smelled like a rotting animal that had been left out in the open for too long. She could imagine the swarm of flies, the gangrene flesh, and the maggots.
“No,” she said. She crinkled her nose in disgust and frowned. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to drink that.”
“Yes, you are. That is, if you ever want to see your precious Liam ever again.”
Iris glared at Myrella. She knew how to manipulate her into doing whatever it was she wanted. She always had, even when Iris had been a little girl.
Iris took a deep breath. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” Myrella said, clapping her hands. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to do the right thing.” She dipped a portion of foul-smelling potion into a cup and handed it to Iris. “Bottoms up, dearie.”
Iris pinched her nose so that she wouldn’t have to smell the potion as she drained the contents in a single gulp. It burned going down and she felt as if her chest were on fire when it finally hit her stomach. She belched loudly.
“What’s it supposed to do?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t done that before.
“When you enter the dreamworld, the potion will aid you in finding Rhys. I can’t promise what he’ll be in. I hear he’s been quite… aggressive since coming back.”
Iris didn’t care where he’d been or why he was back. She did, however, care about the fact that Myrella had described him as aggressive. Too late now, she supposed.
“Good to know,” she said. She closed her eyes and eased herself into the dreamworld.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Iris
Iris landed in an unfamiliar place for the second time in only a few days. Skeletons laid crumpled on the ground, their helms and suits of armor battered. Dust swelled into roaring funnels as wind swept across the relatively flat terrain. She shielded her face with one hand to try and block the particles from scratching her eyes.
She peered behind her to find a narrow, stone bridge stretching across marshland. Smoke and shadows shrouded the walkway. It disappeared into the distance with no endpoint in sight.
She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to cross the bridge or wander deeper into the graveyard before her to find Rhys. Sighing, she took a step towards the bridge. It didn’t have a railing on it and Iris knew that if she stumbled even the slightest bit while crossing, she would plunge to her death. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping that the potion would guide her back to the battlefield.
It didn’t.
She placed one foot on the bridge and instantly felt a sharp tug at her navel. The world swirled around her in a blur of color. It was like a tornado of sensations pulsing within her. She pressed her hands to her eyes to block out the light as dizziness enveloped her.
She landed in shallow water. Sea foam fizzed at her feet and a cool breeze kissed her skin. A lone cottage rested on a peak further down the beach. A curl of smoke plumed from its chimney. Although her head still ached and she felt jittery, Iris trekked towards the cottage.
“Hello?” she called as she stepped on the porch. Long, strong beams had been constructed underneath to provide support to the structure. It hung out over the cliff so that, when she looked over the railing, all she could see was the swell of the ocean.
“What are you doing here, girl?” a ruff voice asked from within the cottage. She whirled around, her back pressing firmly into the railing.
A tall man with bronze skin and dark hair stood before her. Veins bulged in his muscles even when he wasn’t moving. She had no doubt that he could crush her with a single flex. She gulped.
“I’m looking
for someone who goes by the name of Rhys?” she muttered. “Or Maldy? Oh, I don’t know!”
He crossed powerful arms over his chest and smiled at her.
“And what would a sweet, little thing like you be doing looking for a beast like him?” he asked. There was laughter in his words that made Iris take a second look at him.
Although he was tall, muscular, and intimating, his face was also kind. His eyes held a sadness in them that gave Iris pause.
“I was sent to offer aid,” she said.
He smiled at her. “You best be coming in then.”
He turned his back on her, clearly fully confident that she would be joining him in the cottage. She glanced out at the sea, breathing in the salty air. The world here seemed fresh. Untouched by war. Ignorant of the ways of men. It was nice.
She followed him into the cottage.
“Who sent you?” he asked as he lit several candles all around the room with a snap of his fingers.
“Myrella Dimati.”
His eyes grew wide. “I haven’t heard that name in a while,” he muttered. “How is the old broad?”
“You do know her, then?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I didn’t think she had any friends outside of the coven.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t consider us friends, exactly. I have watched her since she was a small child. She showed great potential.”
“Oh, so you’re older than you look, then.”
He chuckled at her. “Yes, I am quite the old fart, if you ask me.” He stretched and, to her astonishment, his muscles bulged even more. He gave her a lazy smile. “Tell me more about her offer.”
“Well, for starters, she said that you could join her in Dramadoon. That she could provide you shelter from the storm.”
His shoulders hunched as she spoke, his facial features contorting into what can only be described as rage. He stumbled towards a wardrobe and flung open the doors. Iron shackles hung from a peg on the inside door. He locked them around his wrists and throat with a loud snap before turning to face her.