Good job, Alderan.
He bent down to pick up the books, but his sudden movement rustled several papers. One of them drifted off the table and right into the fire. Alderan reached into the flames and snatched the paper back. He patted down the blackened edges and pieces of it crumbled away. He shoved the paper underneath several others, hoping Wrik wouldn’t notice it until much later, if at all.
Just put everything back and stop snooping.
He gathered the books from the floor and re-stacked them on the table. When he sat back down, he noticed something red on the floor underneath the table. He scooted the chair back and bent down to retrieve the object.
A feather?
He picked it up and sat back down on the chair.
Six inches long, the feather was like none he’d ever seen. Its thick quill stood out with a dark, crimson hue, and the barbs on the vane alternated between dark oranges and deep reds. As a woodsman and hunter, Alderan knew the wildlife well, at least around Viscus D’Silva. He had no clue as to what kind of bird that feather came from though.
The golden chain attached to the end of the quill interested him further. Thin, tightly woven links comprised the chain, and it weighed less than the feather. No hand could’ve crafted such a chain.
He pulled the chain over his head and moved his hair out of the way. Shorter than the leather necklace he wore, it hung inside of the leather necklace. The feather itself hung at his breastbone and tickled his skin. When he reached for it, the feather and chain burst into flames and disintegrated. His chest tingled with mezhik for several moments afterward.
Alderan gasped. “What just happened?”
He pulled the front of his shirt down. The leather necklace with his mother’s small, brass ring still hung around his neck, but the other necklace had vanished. Well, sort of. A six-inch-long red mark discolored his skin and matched the feather perfectly. He rubbed his chest, but the mark remained.
“Whoa.” His fingers slipped from his shirt. “What have I done?”
Wrik’s gonna kill me.
† † †
Wrik glided down corridors, hallways, and stairs, his mind preoccupied with the young man waiting in his bedchamber and how his presence affected the world. Just in the last several weeks, Wrik could count a handful of fulfilled prophecies, a few of which he’d personally witnessed.
Those moments drove him down his own path. Fed his obsession. He thrived on the anticipation and calculated guess as to which path a given prophecy would take. Oft, his guesses paid off. He served Lord Rosai at Castle Galondu for one such reason: the prophecy of Ƨʈōn Dhef Dädh and the twins.
Wrik understood the prophecy of Ƨʈōn Dhef Dädh better than anyone and had anticipated the resurrection of Cinolth The Dark. Lord Rosai had not. His pride had blinded him from the truth. Wrik smiled.
And he’ll never see what’s coming next.
Up ahead, Master Credan strode toward Wrik, his brow scrunched, and his gaze captured by the floor. Torchlight glinted off his bald head.
Just the man I’m looking for.
Wrik halted in the corridor and awaited Credan’s approach. To Wrik’s surprise, Credan walked right past him without a moment’s glance and pressed on down the corridor.
Wrik turned back and called to him. “Master Credan.” His deep voice boomed and echoed off the high ceilings.
Credan jerked upright so quickly that he nearly toppled over. He swung around, his eyes wide and his spectacles crooked on his face. “Wizard Wrik! Where the gods did you come from?”
Wrik closed the distance between them in three quick strides. “You must be about some important business to have missed a man as large as me.” He towered over Credan by a good eighteen inches. Perhaps more.
Credan straightened his spectacles and craned his neck. “I am. As I’m sure you’re aware, Lord Rosai is not a patient man.” He waved his hand. “Never you mind that. How may I be of assistance?”
“Do you know where I might find Lady Aria?”
“Lady Aria…” Credan scratched his head, his fingers focused on a particularly large liver spot right on his left crown. “Last I heard, she sought the open air. I’m certain you’ll find her strolling about atop the southern rampart.”
Wrik dipped his head. “Very good, Master Credan. Your assistance is most appreciated. I won’t keep you from your business any longer.”
Credan held up a finger. “Might I ask a favor of you?”
“A favor?” Wrik clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. “It would be an honor.”
“When you’ve located Lady Aria, let her know that Lord Rosai requests her presence in the main dining hall in two hours.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. Now—”
Wrik cut him off. “However, do not hold me responsible if she arrives late… or not at all.”
“Yes, of course.” Credan nodded curtly. “Good day.” He turned and strode away.
Good day, indeed.
† † †
Aria stood atop the southern rampart of Galondu Castle and gazed into the distance. Without a single cloud to obstruct her view, she could just make out the Vastus Ocean on the horizon, its deep-blue hue rising up to meet the faded, blue sky.
“How far do you think we are from the ocean?” she asked.
Cinolth stood next to her. His forearm dwarfed her entire body, his clawed hand large enough to crush her in his palm. “Seventy-five miles.” His demonic voice prickled her skin.
A light breeze ruffled her hair. The late winter air still bit a little, even with the sun fully overhead. She pulled her cloak tight. “I want to see it up close. Take me there.”
“You’re still a foolish, young girl. Will you never learn your place? I am no beast of burden that you can summon for a ride every time you get a whim. Try and treat me as such, and you’ll never take flight again.”
Foolish?
Aria seethed. “I brought you back to life. I can send you back to the grave just as quickly.”
Cinolth stomped the parapet, leaving a crack two feet long down the inside of it. “Do not fool yourself.” The heat of his breath caused Aria’s clothes to smoke. She stepped back with a slight cringe. “Your blood, and the blood of the others, pulled me from a great sleep. We are bound together by that blood, but I am the one who has control. Never forget that.”
Aria closed her eyes and concentrated on the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat. “Like mezhik, I feel your presence coursing through my veins. I can summon you with my mind, talk to you without words, and track your location across great distances. I feel what you feel. My desires are yours.” She looked up at him. “Tell me that’s not control.”
Cinolth laughed, a deep, reverberating rumble. Plumes of smoke rose from his nostrils and bellowed out the sides of his massive jaws. “You know nothing of control. Let me give you a demonstration of what true control looks like.” He turned his hand palm-up. “Climb on.”
Aria climbed onto Cinolth’s hand, and he lifted her onto his back.
“Hang on,” he said in her mind.
She barely had time to grab hold of one of the spikes on his back before he took to the sky with the thrust of his wings. No matter how many times she witnessed it, the size and power of his wings left her astonished. They stretched a good thirty-five feet in both directions.
The air whooshed and snapped with every beat as they climbed high above the castle. Like lightning, they streaked across the sky with a southeast heading. Within ten minutes, they’d traveled two-thirds of the distance to Desolo Urbs. Cinolth dove, and the ground streaked toward them in a blur. Aria laughed as her stomach rose into her throat. Impact certain, Aria braced herself, but Cinolth leveled them out at the last moment. Two streaks of dust trailed them, Cinolth’s wings kicking it up from the dry ground.
Cinolth reared up, halting their forward momentum. He settled on the ground.
“Why have we
stopped,” she asked.
His voice entered her mind. “Look around us.”
A sea of people ambled across the rugged terrain. Most of them didn’t take notice of the giant dragon in their midst. Several of the ones who did shrieked with fear and scattered. A few others drew weapons and retreated several dozen paces.
“I don’t understand. Why are they all headed toward the castle?”
“Because I’ve summoned them.”
Summoned them?
Aria’s mind traveled back to the conversation she’d had with him earlier that morning.
This is his army?
Aria looked closer. Many of the people wore little clothing, or at least far less than they should’ve, given the temperature. Each of them bore pale skin, almost a chalky-white, and black veins covered the portions of exposed skin she could see. Arms, legs, necks, faces. Everything.
“Are they infected?”
“In a sense, yes. But not how you think. Let me demonstrate. See the woman passing by on the left in the green shirt?”
“Yes. She doesn’t seem to know we’re here.”
“I’ll have her attack the man with the red cloak in front of us. Watch close.”
Aria focused on the woman with the green shirt. The woman halted, turned around, and walked straight toward the man with the red cloak. The man backed away several steps as the woman approached him. The tip of his sword touched the ground, his face full of confusion.
The man raised his arm. Fear lit his eyes. “What is it you want?”
The woman reached him, pulled the knife from the sheath on his belt, and drew it across his neck before he had a chance to react. Blood sprayed from his neck. He screamed, but it only lasted a few moments before blood erupted from his mouth. The man clutched his throat, dropped to his knees, and then collapsed onto his side.
Aria gasped. “Dear Ƨäʈūr!”
“Do you now understand what it means to have control?”
Aria nodded, her eyes fixed on the woman in the green shirt. The woman dropped the knife, turned, and started walking toward the castle again. Blood covered her clothes, arms, and face. She made no attempt to wipe it off.
Another man rushed to the first man’s side, shouting curses at the woman as he checked for a pulse.
“Tell them to go back home, or they will all die this day.”
Aria sat up straight. Many of the people looked to her. I am their queen. She must get used to addressing them with authority.
She cleared her throat, but no words came to mind. How could she explain something that she herself didn’t understand? How did the beast control them?
A heat flash swept through Aria, head-to-toe and down into her bones, and then words poured from her mouth. “Citizens of Desolo Urbs, you may not know me yet, but you soon will. I am Aria Rosai, your rightful ruler as Queen of the Ancient Realm. Listen to what I have to say and heed my words.”
Aria swept her arm toward the flowing sea of infected people. “As you have witnessed, these people are sick of mind. They are infected with a disease that can only be cured by means of mezhik. The process of cleansing them is arduous, and it will take many months for them to recover.
“Because of this, we have summoned them to the castle where they can be properly cared for and healed. Do not hinder them. Do not follow them. Return to your homes. I promise that your loved ones will return to you if the disease is successfully purged from them.
“However, there is no guarantee of recovery. If they’ve failed to return to you within a year, consider them dead. Do not come seeking them. Their bodies will be burned to prevent the disease from spreading.
“If you fail to comply, we bear no responsibility to your wellbeing. In all likelihood, you will suffer the same fate as the man before me. You have been warned. Return to your homes.”
“You’re not our queen!” shouted a man.
Cinolth trembled beneath her, the scales on his neck turned red with heat, and then flames poured from his mouth. The smell of sulfur rose in the air, and screams filled Aria’s ears. The crowd scattered in a fit of chaos. Several people lost their footing or were shoved to the ground, trampled under foot.
Aria gasped as though waking from a nightmare, her lungs burning for air. Her heart knocked against her ribcage, her eyes misted with tears. The words she’d spoken hadn’t originated from her mind. Somehow, Cinolth had used her as his mouthpiece, and the implications of what it implied drove fear into her heart.
In her mind, she traced back through several recent memories. In many of them, she’d demonstrated a level of rage she’d never attained before. With Pravus. Her father, Nardus.
Am I truly under his control?
Her stomach gurgled, and bile rose into her throat. She closed her eyes and forced it back down.
“Hold on,” said Cinolth in her mind. She complied, wrapping her arms around one of his long spikes and squeezing her thighs against his muscled shoulders.
Cinolth took to the sky in a flurry of dust and wings, circling as they climbed ever higher. Far below, several people attended to the wounded and dead left in the wake of chaos. Many others turned and headed back to Desolo Urbs, but a few of them didn’t heed Cinolth’s warning. She knew they’d be put to death when they arrived at the castle.
Aria looked to the heavens. What have I done?
Fifteen minutes later, they landed atop the southern rampart of Galondu Castle once again. Wizard Wrik stood a good distance from them, just outside the third tower entrance. He held his hands behind his back. A grin parted his lips, and his white teeth beamed against his dark skin. Sunlight glinted off his wire-rimmed spectacles and his hairless head.
Aria slid down Cinolth’s shoulder and arm and landed on her feet.
Cinolth’s presence entered her mind. “I must hunt. When I return, I will show you how to truly use your mezhik.”
“As you wish.” She didn’t look back. If she had, he would’ve seen the fear in her eyes. As it were, she likely reeked of it. In her heart, she knew the truth.
He is part of me. I can hide nothing from him.
Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Aria’s hair blew in her face as Cinolth took to the sky. She swept her hair out of her face and tossed its ends over her shoulders. Cinolth’s presence faded as the distance between them expanded. Her fear dissipated, she turned her attention toward the hulking man waiting patiently for her by the third tower.
Aria approached him. A smile curled her lips. “Wizard Wrik, you’re just the man I need.”
† † †
Aria approached Wrik, her red-streaked, blond hair in disarray. He first noticed her unusual gait and how gingerly she stepped. Then he noticed her eyes, not particularly the vibrant-green hue of her irises, but more so the shade of red that tinted the whites of them.
Windblown? Or is it something more?
A sadness belied the smile she wore, yet her beauty still shone.
A beacon of light.
Aria stopped before him and offered him her hand. He took it and bent over as he brought it to his lips. Uncovered, her skin was ice on his lips.
“Lady Aria.” He eyed her over the tops of his wire-rimmed spectacles, her face reduced to splotches of colors and shapes. “I’ve sought your company as well.” He released her hand and stood tall.
“My company?” A bit of color returned to her cheeks. “For leisure or business?”
He chuckled. “A bit of both, perhaps.”
“Walk with me.” She offered her arm, and he took it.
Wrik sensed Aria needed time to process what she’d come to ask, so he clung to her arm in silence as she led him along the wide path of the ramparts. He didn’t mind it though, her presence more than enough to occupy his thoughts.
After some distance, she halted, just in front of a large crack on the parapet. He’d walked the ramparts several days ago and hadn’t noticed the crack then. It must’v
e happened recently.
Aria turned to him and peered into his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me in the last few weeks, and I hate to ask anything else of you, but there are few people in this world that I can trust, especially with the task I need done.”
“I too trust very few people.” He took her hand in his, and his mind fired warnings of overstepping forbidden boundaries, but withdrawing now would prove far more awkward, so he forged ahead on his steep slope of regret. “Ask anything of me, and I’ll do everything in my power to accomplish it.”
Aria withdrew her hand from his, but not with malice. She turned toward the parapet and gazed into the distance. “On my wedding night, Pravus removed ƨäbräƨär from my neck so that I could fully experience the… throes of passion.”
Throes of passion. Those were the last words Wrik wanted to hear from her lips in reference to Lord Rosai. He cringed at the thought of her elaborating further. He placed his hands atop the parapet and looked skyward.
Gods, let this conversation take another path. Do not make me suffer thinking about that vile man violating her.
Aria continued, “Later that night, while Pravus slept in my arms, a bond I’d all but forgotten sparked back to life.” She turned and placed her hand over his.
Wrik looked down at her dainty, pale hand. Ghostly white against his black skin. Her entire hand, fingers and all, fit on the top of his hand with room to spare. His gaze met hers. Tears wet her cheeks, but a smile parted her lips.
The fingers from Aria’s other hand wrapped around Wrik’s forearm. “After thinking him dead for nearly a year, I finally felt the bond again that I’d always shared with my twin brother, Alderan. As when we were children, in that moment I knew his exact location. Far to the northwest, outside Tyrosha.”
Aria absolutely beamed, the sadness he’d witnessed in her eyes before vanquished. He smiled with her. “That is marvelous news! Your happiness is a welcome sight.”
She squeezed his arm. “Yes, but the stone ceremony changed everything.”
Rended Souls Page 10