by Aimee Moore
“The vault?” I whispered.
As we descended the last of the stairs, anticipation fluttered in my belly like the moths ahead. But when we stepped through the large archway into a cavernous sitting room, we were met with another surprise.
“Jacinthe.” I breathed.
He was sprawled on a large, ornate cushion, reading a book, as the blue light of the moon danced on the darkness of his shaven head. He wasn’t terribly out of place; the chamber was a comfortable space with beautiful furniture and bookshelves. The low tables on one wall held platters of steaming food that Jacinthe must have summoned. The high ceiling of the room was roots and dirt, the light coming in from what looked to be a fox hole.
In the middle of the wall space directly in front of us was a large wooden door. Elaborate gold metalwork traveled along the walls to surround the door, twisting in toward the handle at the hinges. This room was clearly a comfortable antechamber for whatever lay beyond that door.
My moths of flame fluttered toward Jacinthe and began to orbit him as he sat up to greet us.
“Ever persistent,” Jacinthe said in that booming voice.
“Food,” Lianne said, tromping over to the table with glittering goods.
My stomach rumbled at the sight.
“Why are you here?” Dal said.
“I go where I choose,” Jacinthe said with a smile that showed all his teeth. “But you choose where you go, and that is different. Perhaps the sunrise does not ask the moon why it simply is.”
I frowned as I tried to make sense of his words.
“Counphil’s ballph, vis if gooph,” Lianne said. Golden pastries full of brown and purple pastes were disappearing into her mouth faster than she could chew.
“You knew we would be here,” Dal said to Jacinthe. “There can be no other logical reason for a being such as yourself to cross paths with us in this place.”
Jacinthe smiled again, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Humans have their tomes of knowledge, great halls of these volumes, and here in this hole I find the human experience.” Jacinthe raised the small book in his hand.
I glanced at Dal to see him frowning at Jacinthe’s nonsense. But not only nonsense spilled from the Nialae before me. There was also lethal power. I hadn’t picked up on it in Boris, but now my teeth vibrated with it. My moths seemed attracted to it, crackling with renewed vigor as they danced.
Perhaps Jacinthe was as drawn to the vault as Dal was. Because the Helegnaur was in there.
“What will you do to us if we enter that vault?” I asked.
“Do? All that needs doing is done, Seraphine. Though, I must caution you against the undoing of all that is done, for what’s done has been done for reasons that cannot be undone.”
“And what has been done that cannot be undone?” I asked in a careful voice, hoping I’d untangled that mess correctly.
Jacinthe watched me for a moment. “Would you sever an arm, were it pricked by venom?”
I put my hands behind me in a nonchalant gesture. “That would depend upon a great many things,” I said with a frown.
He stood then, stretching like a large, lethal cat. Dal reached for his sword, and I readied myself to call my fire, which sizzled in my veins with anticipation. But Jacinthe only sucked in a satisfied breath, then tossed the book onto the large cushion.
“Then we have an understanding,” he said. And then he was just gone, and Dal and I startled at the void in our senses where Jacinthe had been a moment before.
Dal relaxed a little.
“Did you make sense of that?” I asked.
“No.” Dal’s gaze was fixed on my fluttering moths of flame, as if they were peculiar. They spread to fill the room, unruffled by Jacinthe’s sudden departure.
“I’m not even sure he meant to find us here,” I said. “Maybe he’s just strange.”
Dal was still frowning at my moths.
Lianne, cheeks bulging, stomped over to the cushion that Jacinthe had been laying on and picked up the book. She frowned as she chewed, trying to read the cover.
“Be…” She began, scrunching her face up into a frown. She stuffed a glittering blue fruit into her face as she thought.
“Betrayal of a Knight’s Heart,” Dal said from over by the archway.
Lianne swallowed with a loud gulp, whatever was in her mouth visibly bobbing down her throat. “Yeah, course you’re an expert after one day of schooling,” she said, tossing the book to him.
Dal caught it with one hand, not even a page bent, and turned it over as he approached us.
“A… love story?” I asked, reading the first few paragraphs over his arm.
Dal shook his head and set the book on a bookshelf. “I know better than to think a being such as Jacinthe to be afflicted with madness,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A being possessed of madness does not gain such power that my skin is alive with it,” Dal said.
“Oh sure, unless that much power drives a creature just plum mad,” Lianne said.
Dal gave a soft sigh. “Nialae are… unpredictable.”
“Is it safe to eat?” I asked.
“Sorry to piss in your soup, but I’m still kicking,” Lianne said.
“I’ll worry of sustenance after we get what we have come for,” Dal said. He marched over to the vault door and swung his fist into it. The door exploded into splinters and wooden chunks.
“Council’s balls,” Lianne said, jumping back. “I reckon that’s the flimsiest vault door on the continent.”
“I’m betting the trick wall above the passageway was the real deterrent,” I said, following Dal inside.
A large white orb of light floated above the circular room, smaller orbs of light circling it in a slow rhythm that only they understood. The light illuminated the shelves of curious objects. Most contained books and scrolls, but some displayed boxes and gems and other oddities.
“Seven hells, we’re going to be here all night,” Lianne said.
Already, Dal’s gaze was traveling over the book titles. “No, this should not take long. This space is much smaller than the library.”
“What do you think the Helegnaur looks like?” I asked no one in particular.
“Well it’s gotta be somewhere easy to access, yeah? Dusty old farts with sand in their beards gotta study that thing for eternity,” Lianne said. “Maybe that thing,” she said, pointing at the light source above us.
“That is a representation of the dance of worlds,” Dal said, “nothing more. Touch nothing except scrolls and books.”
I gave a nod and stepped out of the splintered pieces of door to search the room. It wasn’t much bigger around than a couple of horse stalls put together, but the space was still sizeable for all of the small wonders it held. I knelt near a shelf that housed various colored orbs on it and looked into their swirled depths. Some had smoky images of people or things moving within them, and some only showed my own surprised face and stark red hair.
My companions’ movements rustled through the small space as we engrossed ourselves in our explorations.
I pulled an old scroll down and unfurled it. The script slashed toward illegibility, and some of the words were completely foreign to me. As pieces of the musty scroll began to flake away at my touch, I put it back and opened another. Light burst from it, projecting stars into the roof of the room, and Dal and Lianne turned and looked at me as I struggled to roll it back up.
“Try to keep it in your pants, Sera,” Lianne said.
I succeeded in righting the scroll, my face heating at her reference. I caught Dal’s grin as he turned back to his search.
I put the scroll back and bent near some sparkly trinkets. “What if one of these things is the Helegnaur?” I breathed, looking at a box made purely of pearl, which was seated next to a strange wire globe type of thing that spun on its own. “Ysiel said Caelund called it the Polar Construct; it could look like anything.”
“Wouldn’t know wha
t we’re even looking for, would we,” Lianne said.
“I am little help, as most objects in this room command my attention,” Dal said with a sigh.
“Well it damn well better not be a book,” Lianne said, opening an old tome and frowning at the words.
Dal glanced over her shoulder, and murmured “Truth of the Eighth Century, Apocalyptic Decisions.”
Lianne lifted her lashes to him. “Do ya have to make it look so bleedin’ easy?” She breathed.
Dal stepped away. “In time, humanity will grasp language as Kraw do.”
I frowned, remembering Karne’s offer. “No,” I whispered. “Humanity is eons behind the Kraw. We’ll never have what you do. Especially not your lifespans.” I turned away.
Dal’s hand was on my shoulder then. “What business is this, Sera?”
I turned to him, looking up into eyes that were a treasure fit for this room. “You know that humans live a painfully short time.”
Dal gave a nod.
“How much longer do you have to live? Five hundred years? Six?” I asked.
Lianne dropped the book she was holding with a loud thud.
“Roughly,” Dal said, moving to tug a wisp of hair behind my ear.
“What if…” I licked my bottom lip. “What if I found a way to have that, too? What if I would not become old and grey in so short a time? What if I could prolong myself to match you?”
Dal frowned, forming a crease between his brow. “It would be unnatural. None in your world have managed it.” His hazel gaze traveled the distance between my eyes a few times. “You have been speaking with someone,” he said between us.
I opened my mouth to confess, then snapped it shut. Now was not the time to spill my secret of Karne, the implication would be bad. But soon. Tonight, in the darkness of our cart, I would tell Dal everything, like I should have done to begin with.
“Ysiel and Jacinthe, of course,” I said. “But what if they held the key to long life? What if our goodbye didn’t have to come in thirty, maybe forty years? What if our children were not cursed by my half life?”
Surprise swiped away the frown on Dal’s face, and my heart jolted with regret.
“You never thought of it, did you,” I whispered. “You never considered the repercussions, even after we found out.”
“Wait, what repercussions?” Lianne asked.
Dal let off a long breath. “I did not want to consider your shorter life and what it meant for our children. He would have been loved for ninety years or six hundred. There is nothing we can do of it. A race as powerful as the Nialae will not offer gifts such as long life without a price and great manipulation. It is the way of the worlds, Seraphine. You would be wise to remember that the price for such a thing would be steep.”
“Wise or fearful?” I whispered.
Dal frowned at me. “There are boundaries. My people can prolong your life considerably, you would do well to be grateful for an extension of life that does not require sacrifice or payment.”
My mouth dropped. “And you? Would you be grateful for rutting with an old woman in forty short years? You’ll still be young and lively while my body droops and my hair greys and my bones creak. Don’t tell me that you’ll still want me by then, Dal.”
Dal turned away, scanning more books. “I am a resourceful man. I have many years to find a solution to our problem. We may find contentment without. Let us leave it at that for now. We have other problems to contend with.”
I stared at his broad shoulders as he read, my heart racing, a thousand thoughts fighting to spill from my lips.
Lianne was still watching our disagreement. “I reckon those Nialae would take nothing less than your very soul for that sort of long life.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, picking up one of the smoky orbs and contemplating how it would look in pieces on the floor.
Lianne gave me a long look, then returned to her search.
I just wanted to cry or scream away the chaotic maelstrom in my chest, but it would be embarrassingly unbecoming.
Then Lianne exclaimed, “the Polar Construct!”
We turned to face her and she threw the book to Dal, who caught it as easily as one catches a dandelion fluff meandering on the wind before scanning the pages. I put the orb back, chiding myself for my tantrum.
Dal looked up, met my gaze, and said, “The Arctic Temple of the Water Lords. It is being held there, and to access it we need a c—"
Dal’s voice was lost then as the room exploded into a confetti of fire, glass, metal, wood, and shreds of paper. It happened so fast that the world seemed to slow as chaos shredded through my existence. Strong arms gripped my waist, pulling me away from Dal as we reached for each other. My fingertips brushed Dal’s, and for the second time since I had known him, terror crossed his features as he looked upon me through the time-halted debris of destruction around us. And then I knew only blackness.
Chapter 14
Glass
A dull buzz of alertness intruded on my comfortable unconsciousness.
I stirred, mostly to see if I could move at all. I could, though pain punctuated my left shoulder. The rest of my world was soft, cloud-like even, and warm. I wanted to sink back into the comfortable black and never awaken, but then I remembered the look on Dal’s face just before darkness took me, and my heart began to pump adrenaline through my veins.
I shifted with a groan, opening my eyes to let the dim light of the room in. The ceiling was ornate, tapestries in varying shades of blue clinging to it before flowing down the stone wall. Wall sconces of swirling silver housed embers that gave off the warm glow of light.
I tried to sit up and gasped as pain radiated through my left shoulder again. Looking down, I was horrified to find a smooth shard of black stone sticking out of the place just below my naked shoulder, jutting outward. My skin was red and tender around the foreign object, and a gentle poke sent pain shooting through my chest. I bit my lip and swallowed the urge to panic as I realized someone had dressed me. Where was Dal? Where was my necklace? My clothes? Had Dal been as injured as I in the explosion? Was he laying in the rubble right now, bleeding? Was I captive?
Patroma. I reached for Patroma in my panic. I gritted my teeth and sat up through the pain with a harsh grunt. My Kraw commander mentality settled into place like a cloak that staves off the cold. I’d address the shard in my left shoulder later, I couldn’t afford the blood loss right now.
I assessed the room for points of escape or weapons. The soft cushion I was on matched the furniture in the room, which looked to be fit for pleasure houses or royalty. There was a table next to me with a plate of food and a tall bottle of water.
I frowned at the barely-there outfit I was clad in. A metal ring was around my neck, and on it was a slip of flowing white cloth that hung low enough to be tied around my chest – just covering my breasts. It crossed over all the important bits, leaving my belly, back, and thighs bare, but for the train of fabric that draped to my sides making a dress of sorts.
The garment was ugly and insufficient.
I stood and searched the room quickly with my right arm, unhindered by injury as my left shoulder was. My things were gone. My long hair was unbound, trailing about my waist, and the injury in my left shoulder made it impossible for me to remedy the nuisance. The smell of the food made my stomach growl like an angry Kraw, but I ignored it. I had been hungry for lengths of time that had nearly killed me; this was nothing.
The wall sconces were fastened in so that I couldn’t use them as weapons. I called my flame and was answered by pain echoing through the emptiness of my blood. Nialae were near. I grabbed the glass of water and smashed it on the nightstand. Water and glass splashed everywhere, but now I had a weapon in the sharp tip of the glass.
I padded to the door, gripping the smooth part of the weapon tight.
Drive the blade into their flesh and make them cry for mercy.
Yes, my captors would grieve this day. I pulle
d the door open and blinked as light bathed my face. A large hallway greeted me, the buzz of dozens of quiet voices meeting my ears.
But the space was not wood or stone. The floor here was the night sky, winking stars and blue orbs with colorful rings around them. A pristine white carpet ran the length of the floor, and I feared falling into the blackness and stars should I not step upon it. The ceiling was the same, minus the runner carpet, and it gave the already wide hall the sensation of being limitless.
I tiptoed out of my room and onto the white carpet, passing sconces and desks of trinkets, limping down the hall and glancing into rooms as I passed. Now and again I saw more women dressed like me, except in reds or blues or purples. Many looked to be Nialae with their pale hair and eyes, some were perhaps human, and some looked entirely foreign with strange features or markings. They were making beds or dusting furniture, carrying trays or lounging plush chairs. Some of the women looked upon me with as much curiosity as I did them, but the majority let their gazes slide past me with indifference.
The building was so chaotic that I couldn’t discern a way out. The doors were all different, and the windows all showed varying landscapes I had never seen. This window featured snow. This one displayed a beach of black sand. This one, orange powder dirt and blue stalks of grass. Frustration tore at me as I gripped my weapon harder.
Male voices vibrated through the hallway. I glanced at the shard in my shoulder, knowing I had no chance of overpowering any male captors. I chanced a step onto the black sky outside of the long white rug, finding it solid, and slipped behind a draping red curtain.
I peered through the weave of the fabric, hoping I could not be seen. Karne himself walked by, with two other Nialae men and two more women dressed as I was at the side of each man. I held my breath and tensed, expecting the Nialae allure to cripple me at any moment.
“…With only a few adjustments. But, let us not worry ourselves over that now,” Karne said. “Something tells me you’d be interested to meet more of my staff.”