“There.” Seela pointed to a sizable thicket that grew out of the edge of the Plane, waving away the first gnats of wraiths that had begun to cling to her. “Silvix imprisoned the Dolobra there, inadvertently trapping himself as well.”
“How do I set Silvix free?”
“You must find his shadow and lead it to the Plane. There, it will be free to reunite with its other half.” She crossed her arms. “Only a Shadow Heir can enter the trap he has snared, but beware, though the Dolobra sleeps, you must not awaken it.”
Anticipation crawled Aza’s skin on spider legs. “The Maldibor tell stories of the Dolobra,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “They say it slumbers deep in Carceroc, rising on the coldest nights to snatch children from their beds.”
“Like Silvix, the other half of the Dolobra—its physical body—is trapped in the depths of Carceroc. Lured by the magi when they imprisoned Okarria’s mankillers there centuries ago.” Her hard eyes pierced Aza. “As for the rest of it, I’m surprised you would listen to such childish tales.”
Aza let Seela’s foul mood wash over and off her. While Seela had always been cold, she’d never seemed ill-tempered like she had in the last few days. Perhaps she was angry that Aza hadn’t been able to reach her parents.
She shook it away. After she got her answers, Aza would be gone and the Shadow Plane would no longer rule her—no longer consume her every moment.
“I’ll be quick.”
As she moved into the thicket, her fingers rested on the hilts of her daggers, calming the nervous twisting of her stomach. The black, broad-trunked trees grew up out of the slate grass. Exposed roots, as thick as Aza’s middle, twisted through the broken ground in the shadows pooling on the forest floor.
She paused before she entered. It wasn’t quite as dark as the Mortal Wood had been, and she didn’t feel the same stabbing pain. It reminded her more of the dusky foreboding of Carceroc.
But, she wasn’t after the Dolobra this time. She was just there for Silvix. Inhaling deeply, she stepped into the wood. A pair of wide white eyes glowed in front of her, and Aza whipped out her dagger. But it was only a strange squid-like wraith drifting by.
She exhaled, her heart still jumping. Just because the Dolobra had been trapped didn’t mean there weren’t other things here that could hurt her. She experimentally allowed a thin stream of yanaa to flow into her dagger as Seela had instructed her. Not that she had ever tried it—she could only hope it would work.
Aza rolled her feet from heel to toe as she crept half-crouched through the trees. If the worst happened, she could always crash back into the world of the living… although with Mogens nearing every day… it would have to be a last resort.
The wraiths rustled around her in the gloom, their soft feather-like touch brushing her arms and legs, drawing on her yanaa. How could she find a shadow in this darkness?
She stopped. Of course. She’d been in and out of the Shadow Plane for days now, and still she relied on her eyes. She closed them and thought of Silvix—the long hair, the lined face, the obsession with the darkness, the sacrifice he had made to protect his students. Unlike her. She thought of turning away as Witt nearly drowned in the sea.
She wouldn’t. She inherited the darkness, the Shadow Plane obsession, and even the long dark hair, but she couldn’t imagine a situation in which self-sacrifice would be the smartest option. There was no victory there, only a hollow compromise—and she could never settle for that.
A sound rippled through the darkness, somewhere between a sigh and a beast-like grunt. Aza opened her eyes and walked in that direction. The wraiths fluttered about her thickly now, their long tentacles prickling her skin.
She swatted at a few beetle-like creatures crawling up her arms, and in her distraction almost missed the great heaving mountain in front of her. She stopped mid-step, her muscles tense and her heart thrumming. The sigh hadn’t come from Silvix, it had come from this… thing. The Dolobra—deep in its imprisoned slumber.
The Maldibor had told many hair-raising stories of the Dolobra around the fire to frighten the children. Some had described it as a great hairy beast, while some said it was blacker than the darkest souls. They’d all been wrong.
Its pale white skin seemed almost luminescent in the darkness. It was tall like a giant but with thin, sinewy arms wrapped around bony knees drawn to its chest. Spikes lined its spine and forearms, while spiraling horns grew out the sides of its head. Long needle-like fingers and toes twitched in its slumber while its sharp ribs rose and fell in the slowest of comatose breathing.
Though she would never have admitted it, she had feared this creature as a child just like the others. That’s why she had gone into the forest that night, to prove to herself she wasn’t scared. But she had been a fool. And she had been a liar.
Her throat tightened as her instincts screamed for her to step away. To forget Silvix and go back to the warmth of the light. She reigned in those emotions with a sharp tug. Don’t be a coward. It’s bound. It cannot harm me. She breathed deep and slow, forcing herself to look closer.
A black spiderweb of shadow crisscrossed the creature’s body, like a net holding it to the ground. It flinched in its sleep with another grunt, baring long fangs from a lipless mouth. Aza swallowed. So, if she had found the Dolobra, then Silvix could not be far. But where?
On creeping feet, she tiptoed around the beast, wishing she could render herself invisible and safe. The netting around it seemed delicate against its bulging muscle, and if it woke up to find her there, she wasn’t confident the shadows would hold it.
The monster twitched again, but this time Aza caught sight of something else moving at its feet. She squinted. It looked like the shadow of a person leaning against it, their head bowed, and an elbow resting on a bent knee, as if resigned to waiting.
Aza crouched down next to the person to see that it wasn’t quite a shadow. She could make out Silvix’s features in the dark. A straight nose and a square chin, bags sagging beneath the eyes, and the blank expression of the condemned. Everything bent toward the ground in the unmistakable language of the world-weary.
Aza frowned. She wondered if he had spent the last century regretting his sacrifice. Or if his students had truly appreciated what he’d done for them. A gladness raced through her. This was the right thing to do. This was where she was supposed to be. She could help him.
She let yanaa trickle through her fingers and took his hand in hers. His brow furrowed like he was trying to see something he couldn’t quite make out, but he didn’t resist as she pulled him away from the Dolobra. She glanced at the creature over her shoulder, but its body continued its unconscious rise and fall.
The wraiths practically spun around her, their excited whispers like an indecipherable hiss in her ear. The fear and uncertainty lifted from her with each step toward the edge of the copse. She had come so far in her short time here to make this seem easy. Now she could leave with at least this small victory to warm her.
Aza stepped out into the Plane, and Silvix tugged back on her hand, his feet stopped at the brink of the thicket. Aza turned to see confusion and doubt lining his face. Was he frightened? Of death? Of change?
“It’s okay, Silvix. I’m your Heir. I’m here to help you.” She squeezed his cold fingers. “You can finally rest.”
His expression didn’t change, and Aza wasn’t sure if he was able to hear or see her. She pulled again on his hand, but still he resisted. The wraiths flew around him as if trying to push him out themselves.
“I know you’ve been in here for a long time,” Aza whispered. “But this isn’t where you belong.”
Silvix opened his mouth to say something, but Aza couldn’t hear the words.
“What?” She leaned closer, the slightest whisper tickling her ears, when a pair of strong hands seized her from behind and yanked her into the Plane.
Her hands tightened around Silvix’s, and a yanaa that wasn’t her own, something dark and slippery, funneled thro
ugh her into him, wrenching him forward.
In the twilight of the Plane, Silvix’s shadowed face squinted as though he’d just stepped into the noon sun. He blinked rapidly until at last, his gaze flitted down to the grass at his feet and then the forest behind them.
“Well done,” Seela said.
Aza smiled at Silvix’s shadow. “How does it feel to be free?”
Silvix’s head whipped to her, his eyes wide. The darkness of him faded into the gusting Plane wind, but even though his words were soundless, Aza didn’t need to hear them to know what he said.
“What have you done?”
Chapter Twenty
Burning
Atremendous crack rent the placid air, like an avalanche crashing into the Shadow Plane. The very ground beneath Aza’s boots trembled, and a hair-raising roar thundered out from between the trees.
With Silvix nowhere to be seen, Aza turned to where Seela stood calmly beside her, a wide smile spreading across her face for the first time. The creature bellowed, and Aza cringed, her heart pounding.
“Seela, what’s going on?”
Seela laughed in throaty triumph. “And to think you’re supposed to be the cunning one.” The chuckle rumbled through her words. “Seela was so sure you would figure it out, and yet…” She spread her arms. “Here we are.”
Panicked confusion whooshed in and out of Aza with quick breaths. “Who are you?”
The ground shuddered with huge footsteps, and the splintering of trees crackled closer. Seela frowned with mock sympathy. “Tsk. Tsk. Now, that would be cheating.”
Aza tightened her grip on her daggers. “I’m not playing your games.”
Seela continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The way I see it, you have three options. You can follow in the footsteps of dear Silvix and sacrifice yourself to bind the Dolobra, you could challenge it here in the Plane and let it feed on your soul, or you can come back to Somisidas, and we’ll kill you there. All excellent choices.” She sighed, her eyes all soft and dreamy. “The wakened Dolobra will kill your brother in Carceroc, and our Heir problems will be solved. All thanks to you.”
Bile swelled in Aza’s throat, the bitter nausea coating her mouth. “Mogens,” she choked.
“Close,” Seela winked. “But not quite.”
Aza lunged for Seela, just as the Dolobra crashed out of the wood.
Seela disappeared in a blink, and Aza cut through the thin air. She cursed under her breath and whirled to face the monster of her childhood nightmares. With its freedom, the Dolobra had swollen in size. Though still lean, it stood easily four times taller than her, with gnarled arms like thorny tree limbs and a great gaping maw dripping into its spiky beard. It stared at her from the black holes of its eyes, and the bone shards along its back twisted as if they had a mind of their own.
Aza adjusted her stance as it crept toward her on all fours. It lowered its head between its wiry forearms, its gaze holding hers. “Poor, lost girl, do not fear,” it crooned. “You’ve saved me from my prison. Please allow me to return the favor.”
Though fear and adrenaline coursed through her limbs, Aza found herself frozen, her mind locked on the white flames in those dark eyes. What had she done? The Dolobra reached out its long, spined fingers, saliva dripping from its widening jaws. This is not how Aza thought she would end, as some passive recipient of death’s fangs.
A screech on the wind tore through her paralysis. “Run, girl!”
Aza blinked, the Dolobra’s strange hold on her broken, and leapt away as its fingers closed around air.
“Don’t look at its eyes!” Silvix’s voice seemed like a shout from far away.
The Dolobra’s claws snapped at her in fast succession. Aza slashed at its fingers, her daggers leaving shallow, bloodless slits in its pale skin. She dodged between the trees, her mind still reeling. Silvix hadn’t inadvertently gotten trapped with the Dolobra, he had purposefully sacrificed himself to imprison it.
And she had freed it.
A searing shame turned her cold. A claw raked across her arm, and a lick of pain flared up her skin. Should she try to capture it again? But how would she even do that?
“What do I do?” she yelled into the wind.
“Leave, girl, while you still can,” Silvix replied. “You’ve already lost this battle.”
Fury rushed through Aza, and she weaved in to stab through the Dolobra again. She hadn’t lost yet. She could still fix this. The Dolobra swiped at her, its claw grazing her leg with another spike of pain.
“I can’t just run away!” She dodged behind trees as the Dolobra tore through the forest for her. “Tell me how to kill it!”
“This is its kingdom,” Silvix snapped. “You must kill both its spirit here and its body in Carceroc to truly destroy it, and you are far too weak to trap it.” His voice rose to a frustrated yell. “Go before you make things worse.”
Aza opened her mouth to say something else when the Dolobra’s claw closed around her foot. With a scream, she stabbed and slashed at its fingers, but it held fast, dragging her toward its gaping jaws and the eyes she couldn’t meet.
“Come to me, my luscious Shadow. You would not believe how I’ve hungered all these years. How I’ve dreamed of you.”
“The door, girl, think of the door!” Silvix shouted.
Aza screamed again, the claws tightening on her leg. Through the pain, she panted shallow breaths and tried to visualize the door back to the living. The Dolobra’s hot breath misted on her face, but if she crashed back out this time, someone would be waiting on the other side to kill her—she had to find her way out.
She let the yanaa trickle into her fingers, and the Dolobra reared its head back, ready to crunch into her. With one last breath, the jaws snapped down, and she flung open the door.
Her eyes flashed open, and she moved before she even saw the blade. She rolled forward in a dive, the swipe of the steel ruffling her hair. Pain shot through her body from the wounds she had sustained in the Plane, but it looked undamaged, and most importantly, she still had yanaa. With a thought, she pulled the shadows to her and melted into the air.
“You missed her?” said a familiar posh voice.
Valente Conrad.
Aza took in the trio standing in the empty training room. Conrad leaned against the wall, unruffled in his ornate navy doublet, with his thick blond hair coiffed upon his head. Behind him, Seela stood with eyes glowing green. Aza’s heart clenched. Had Conrad been… controlling her?
The next voice was unsurprising, even as Aza turned to face him. “You said she was going to be half-dead. She looks in fine form to me.”
Mogens—the Heir killer.
The hood fell back as he rose from his crouch, the long lank hair on his mottled skull draping over the wrinkled, gray skin of his face, the bones of his teeth and cheeks protruding through the rot under his nose cavity in an eternal smile. The green haze of yanaa curled around him, pooling in the dark pits of his eyes. Rags draped over the rest of his skeletal remains—the skin fallen away where the yanaa had failed to preserve it, and his white-boned fingers gripped the jagged dagger that had once cut her grandfather’s throat. The same one that had scarred Aza’s face.
They faced each other, two assassins balancing on the scale. Odriel’s and Idriel’s. One living, one rotting—both deadly.
Conrad arched an eyebrow with a nonchalant smile, but anger sparked in his eyes as he stared at Mogens standing in the middle of the room. “She may be conscious, but she’s still weak. The wraiths have been gnawing at her for days now. She’ll be sluggish and stupid.”
Mogens stalked toward Conrad with his dagger out, and for a moment Aza thought he might punish his impertinence. Instead, he flashed a skeletal smile. “Then, we don’t need this anymore.”
Aza’s eyes widened. “No, don’t—"
With one slash of his blade, Mogens sliced through Seela’s neck. She crumpled to the floor, the green light gone from her eyes and a pool of dark blood burgeoning fr
om her body.
Conrad stepped away from the fresh corpse with a grimace. “You always make such a mess.”
Aza’s grip tightened on her daggers as she shifted to conceal her position. The monsters.
“This is more fun anyway.” Mogens tapped his blade against his teeth with a chuckle, Seela’s blood dripping from the steel, and glanced in Aza’s direction. “And she’s been looking forward to this for years.”
Aza’s brow creased. How would he know that? Had he been watching her? No. A cold understanding washed over her. He’d been listening to her on the Shadow Plane. Every time she had spoken to the wraiths, her voice would have echoed over those gray grasses. Just like she had heard him.
“You led me here,” she breathed.
Mogens’ chuckle turned to a rattling laugh. “A little bit of the stick.” He gestured to Conrad. “A little bit of the carrot…”
“Here, Shadow, Shadow, Shadow,” Conrad taunted, as if calling a hound.
The blood drained from Aza’s face with an icy chill.
“…And you practically flew to us,” Mogens finished.
“But now that you’ve done your bit, I’m afraid it’s time for us to part ways. I’d hate to miss the Dolobra snuffing out the final Heir.” Conrad stood and straightened his doublet. “Mogens, clean this up, would you?” He strode to the doorway with smooth long strides. “And don’t miss—”
Aza rushed him. Her muddled mind was still putting together the pieces, but she wouldn’t let him escape until she knew everything. True to his word, her muscles were sore and stiff, but she could still Shadow Step, and even at half-strength, she was more than a match for this dandy.
Aza brought her dagger down to stab into Conrad’s back, and another blade rose to meet it with a clang. Mogens’ face loomed inches from hers as their steel locked together. But… how did he see her?
A sly smile spread across Conrad’s face. “Always a pleasure, my lady.”
Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2) Page 19
