Myth's Legend: Norrix

by Ysobella Black

  “We can read the book together in a few minutes.” He set a pot on the table, picked up her old dress, and pulled a knife from his belt.

  Heart pounding, breathing fast, Fable tensed and took a step back, eyes darting to look for a place to hide. It was all a trick! Despair washed over her.

  “Don’t be scared. It’s for this.” He sliced through the rough white material, turning it into rags. Then he cut his finger and wiped blood on the fabric. “I won’t hurt you, but my uncle’s men want me to. This way they’ll think I’m doing what they say, and they won’t come in.”

  Done with the dress, he tossed it next to the door and held up a small pot. “If you let me put this on your arm, we can read the story next.” Tucking the book under his arm, he lifted the lid of the jar.

  A pungent odor filled the room, like something rotten. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

  “I know it smells awful. My mom makes this. It won’t hurt.”

  Fable pointed at him. Mean men had touched her with hard hands before. She would get better without the gross stuff on her.

  Tizoc smiled. A nice one that made his eyes happy. “You don’t trust me, huh? I suppose that’s fair enough. All right. I’ll go first.” He scooped out some paste and covered some marks on his arm.

  The bruises went away. He turned around and pulled his shirt up. “You can do it yourself if you want to test it. Only a few. Too many suspicions will be raised if I’m completely healed.”

  Fable touched the brown paste. It tingled on her fingertip, and she dabbed it on an angry red mark. It faded, leaving smooth skin behind.

  He faced her, covered his fingers with the medicine, and spread it over the red handprint, making it disappear.

  She offered him a smile and reached for the book, pulling her hand away again as the door opened.

  The same woman as before came in carrying a tray. “You have some time now. I put Gajo’s men to sleep. Eat you two.”

  His mother kissed him on his forehead. “I’ll be back for the tray later. I have to see to something else now. Tizoc, next time one of the men knocks on the door, be brutal with your words. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Nantli.”

  She kissed Fable’s head too, then left, closing the door behind her.

  Usually the soldiers brought maize gruel for Fable to eat. Her eyes widened when Tizoc uncovered the tray and she saw everything. So much food! Popcorn, algae cakes, beans, corn tortillas, papayas, apples, pumpkin, and a cup of cacahuatl! The chocolate drink flavored with honey and vanilla was only for special people on special days, but Tizoc pushed the cup toward her.

  Was it a trick?

  “It’s for you. Try it. It’s not a trick. Eat what you like. I won’t take anything away from you.”

  Fable reached for the book again.

  “You’d rather see the book than eat? You’re single-minded, aren’t you?” He pointed to a chair. “Okay, sit down.”

  When she did, he sat in the chair next to her and opened the book. “When you see something you would like to be called, you point to it, and that will be your name.”

  As soon as her fingers touched the cover, the story flowed into her mind.

  THE SECOND SUN BEGAN at the end of the eclipse when light returned to the world. Quetzalcoatl, having struck down Tezcatlipoca, became the new Sun. He took the form of a great winged serpent, created a new race of people he called humans, and fed them pinion nuts. He ruled over a peaceful time for six hundred and seventy-six years.

  But Tezcatlipoca, bitter in defeat, still hungered to rule. He developed new powers, became the god of sorcery, and often glowed with white magic. To grow stronger, he demanded sacrifices of blood and magic.

  The humans refused, worshiping only Quetzalcoatl. They grew crops, had children, and were not interested in conquest or fighting wars. Over time, they grew fat and happy.

  Most of them, anyway. Tezcatlipoca laughed. These people, these humans, were no gods or giants like he had ruled. They were... fallible. Easy to corrupt. Among humans, there were always some never content with what they had.

  A few whispers and promises offering riches and power were enough to convince a few humans to turn away from Quetzalcoatl. In secret, they brought sacrifices to Tezcatlipoca, and he became stronger through blood and magic.

  Eventually, the people complained to Quetzalcoatl, who came to his brother. “You are causing discontent among my people, brother.”

  “Your humans want what I offer.”

  “I don't want to fight with you, but I will protect my creations.”

  Tezcatlipoca laughed. “They are no loss. Look at them. They have no purpose.”

  “Stop asking them to betray one another.”

  “All right, Brother. I will ask nothing of your people.” Tezcatlipoca used his sorcery to turn the uncivilized humans into monkeys.

  When Quetzalcoatl saw what his brother had done, he grieved for his people and flapped his enormous wings to create a great hurricane that swept the monkeys away from the influence of Tezcatlipoca.

  Darkness reigned over the world.

  SOMEONE BANGED ON THE door. “It’s not making any noise. Your uncle expects it to be broken when he returns.”

  One of the mean men! Fable’s hands shook, and she slipped off her chair. She pressed herself against the wall and slid down to the floor, trying to be small.

  Tizoc rose and held a finger to his lips, then closed his eyes. “Sorry. That was stupid.” He picked up her bloody dress and opened the door, but didn’t let the man in. Lifting his hand from the knob, he pressed his palm to the back of the door, two fingers making an x.

  “It can’t make any noise, you idiot. The Scorpion Mage silenced its irritating voice, so you’ll have to feed your lust for the screams of little girls somewhere else. I will treat my Esne as I see fit.” With his other hand, Tizoc threw her shredded dress out of the room. “As you can see, we're getting to know each other fine without your interference.”

  The guard laughed. “You sound like your uncle. Be careful, though, boy. You’re not him yet.”

  “My uncle is powerful now, but one day I will be the Scorpion Mage. Watch your step if you don’t want me to remember you interrupting my getting to know my Esne. Do you understand?”

  The man laughed. “Well, all right. You may yet make this house rise above the others.”

  “Don’t bother us again.” Tizoc slammed the door and footsteps walked away outside. He leaned his forehead against it. “I hate this. I hate all of this.”

  Fable’s heart hurt for Tizoc. He had his mother but not his father, and his uncle was one of the meanest men. She stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the book. Crossing to Tizoc, she tugged on his sleeve.

  He smiled down at her. “You with that book again. I should have known. I think you might have an obsession.”

  Fable pointed to a picture of a green and red bird on the page, then to the same colors on her new dress.

  “That’s a quetzal. You’re right. Your colors match. Is that what you want me to call you? Quetzal?”

  Fable nodded. It was a nice name. And she wished she was a parrot.

  Tizoc led her to the table again, and they took their seats. “What about quetzalli? Do you know that word? It means something precious. My mom used to call me that when I was little. But I think that’s a good name for you.”

  Her eyes felt hot and watery. She sniffled.

  He opened his eyes wide. “Oh no. Don’t cry.”

  She touched his hand and smiled.

  “Oh. You’re crying because you’re happy? I do not understand girls.” Tizoc shook his head and pushed the cup toward her. “Drink your cacahuatl before it gets cold. And eat. If I know my mom, she expects all this food to be gone when she comes back. ”

  As Fable sipped her drink, she missed her mom, but maybe she made her first friend.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NORRIX

  EMBER PUSHED HER HOOD off her head as she en
tered the room and ignored the kitchen and dining areas. She zipped around the suite, opening all the doors off the living room, furnished in black leather furniture with red and silver throw pillows, revealing a spare bedroom, guest bathroom, and a mirrored room for sparring, complete with mats and punching bags. Stairs led to a second bedroom in a loft and floor to ceiling windows the entire width of the room looked out over an erupting volcano. “This is a house! Are all of them like this?”

  Norrix shrugged and took a seat in one of the armchairs in front of a fireplace. “Not exactly like this. But each room is what its resident needs to be comfortable. Some live in Ashana permanently. It’s a guaranteed safe place no matter who or what they deal with and in.”

  “Can we eat?” Ember flopped onto a sofa and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I’m starved. Clio mentioned dining.”

  Norrix nodded. “We can go to the pub. There’s always a show at the top of every hour. We can make the next one.”

  Stryx sat next to Ember and took her hand. “You will have to wear your costume, my Dragă.”

  “Already? You really think so?”

  “Stryx is right. There’s no telling who might be at the pub. Someone there could see us and connect you as the woman with Stryx and I at the auction. Better they see you as her from the beginning.”

  “Okay, well, it’s not so much a disguise as a deterrent. Selene and I think I don’t need to be hidden so much as make people not want to look at me in the first place.” Ember rose and unzipped one of their bags. She removed a smaller one, then disappeared into the bathroom.

  As Norrix glanced out the window, the view changed to a jungle. “Do you know what she’s going to wear?”

  Stryx shook his head. “Ember says it’s a surprise. I hope she and Selene know what they’re doing. I don’t care what the rules are here. If anyone lays a hand on her, I’ll kill them, neutral territory or not.”

  “Don’t even think about it. You don't have to worry about her safety. If someone attempts to hurt her, they’ll be dealt with before you can move. They mean it about this being neutral, and they keep it that way by being ruthless about it. We need to worry more about someone realizing she’s strygoi. There’s nothing stopping someone seeing that and leaving to tell the world strygoi are back.”

  Ember emerged from the bathroom, clad neck to foot in a skintight black catsuit, complete with gloves and knee-high boots. What could be seen of her face from under a deep hood pulled up over her head was covered by an emerald green mask the same color as the emblem on her chest — a mass of writing snakes uncoiling from a circle.

  “You can’t go out there wearing that!” Stryx leapt from his seat. “Everyone will stare, and you’re supposed to be incognito.”

  Norrix burst out laughing. Her disguise was ideal to make people not want to look at her, in spite of how revealing the catsuit was. “Where did you come up with that?”

  “Selene’s closet. I think hers might be bigger than Viktoria’s. I didn’t think that was possible before today.” Ember held her arms out. “It’s a little tight. Selene and I aren’t exactly built the same.”

  “A little tight?” Stryx ran his fingers down Ember’s side. “I’m surprised you can breathe.”

  “It’s perfect.” Norrix said. “I should know better than to doubt Selene.”

  Ember peered over her shoulder. “Selene said Gorgons are treated like lepers. No one wants to get too close.”

  “That’s true.” Norrix fought back memories, striving to stay present. “One story badly told turned them into pariahs. You should be fine. That crest isn’t one that would usually be chosen freely. It’s seen as a stigma Gorgons are forced to wear, as well as the keepers they travel with. And while they aren’t numerous, there are still enough Gorgons around meeting one is rare but not unheard of. Especially in a place like this.”

  “Right. And here.” She reached into her bag and tossed a bundle of cloth at each of them. “These are for my keepers.”

  Stryx and Norrix pulled vests with the same Gorgon emblem on over their shirts.

  “What about your silver glow?” Stryx poked at Ember’s chest. “That’s the key thing we have to hide.”

  Ember swatted his hand and lowered her hood. Silver magic shone like a beacon around her. “I’m strygoi-ed out, but whatever material this outfit is made from keeps the silver from shining through. Plus, I asked Soră to help me play a trick on everyone and hide.” Her eyes unfocused, like she was listening to someone else. “Soră thinks that’s a fun game, so we should be fine.”

  Norrix stood. “You don’t need to protect me right now, so no need to be strygoi at all.”

  Ember pulled Stryx toward the door. “I’ll see how it goes off and on tonight. You two can let me know if you see anything weird happening.”

  THE LOBBY WAS A BLACK underwater seascape, with a shipwreck below their feet and something with enormous, bio-luminescent eyes peering at them from above. Clio, leaning against a coral reef with fish swimming around it, waved at them as they passed through.

  Norrix shuddered. The ocean was almost as bad as the sun for vampires, creatures so closely bound to earth magic. Fortunately, their strength wasn’t sapped here, and they crossed the expanse to a hallway that led to gift shops and the pub — Ravens & Reprobates.

  “That’s a strange name.” Ember tilted her head and stared at the sign. “That raven looks dead.”

  Two ravens were depicted, but only one was upright. The other lay on his back, eyes closed, wings spread wide, feet in the air.

  “Just drunk. I swear.” Norrix held the door open and followed Ember and Stryx in.

  The primary area of the pub was one round chamber that opened vertically, winding upward for hundreds of feet. The walls and floors matched the tables, a smooth wood in shades of tan to grey. In the middle of the room, Gyges, a giant with fifty heads and a hundred arms, stood in the middle of a circular, three-story bar.

  The place wasn’t too crowded this early, and a group of women wearing fawn-skin clothing and bull helmets congregated at the giants’ knee.

  The ravens, and head reprobates, perched on a branch jutting from the second level of the bar, twenty feet in the air, a high point that made it easy for them to survey the patrons for victims.

  Currently, Huginn and Muninn preened each other’s shiny black feathers. When they straightened, runes in silver and gold marked their chests. Once, they worked for Odin, bringing him information about the world. Now they rarely left Ashana.

  The pair of them stared at Norrix as he walked by. He pretended not to notice them. They hated that.

  Stryx made his way through the crowd of humans, Other Worlders, and creatures, leading Ember toward an open table. Norrix kept his eyes on Ember’s boots. No telling who was in the pub and might set off a cascade of memories he couldn’t control. He sat on one side of a booth while Ember and Stryx slid into the other.

  A slender woman clad in a fawn skin dress and carrying a long ivy-wrapped stick topped with a pine cone broke away from the huddle and skipped over to them. A little green snake curled around her neck and she wore her hair in a braid down her back under her bull helmet.

  She smacked menus down on the table. “Hi! I’m—” A look of consternation crossed her face. Turning away, she yelled at the women at the bar. “Hey! What name are we today?”

  “Myra!” a chorus of voices called.

  “Really? That’s what we’re going with? Whatever.” She turned back to the table. “I’m Myra. Would you like to hear the specials?”

  Ember shook her head. “I’m going with what I know. Just a —”

  “I said!” Myra slammed her stick on the table. “Do you want to hear the specials?”

  “If you insist.” Stryx crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.

  Myra burst into tears. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. The customer is always right, even when they’re not, and if you don’t want to hear the specials, you d
on’t have to.” She slipped a hand into a pocket, extracted a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes as she fled.

  “Wow. What’s the deal with Manic Myra?” Ember asked.

  Norrix laughed. “She’s a maenad. They’re mad and forget their individual names, so they share the one. That way, if you say it, you’re bound to get the attention of at least one of them. No one actually orders from them. There are consoles built into the tables. I can recommend the fruit salad. At least, I think I can. It always looks nice, anyway.”

  “Fruit salad?” Ember wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

  “I always order it when I come here.”

  “Pass. I need a steak. And a lager. Musette reminded me today is Lager Day before we left.”

  They placed their orders, and twenty minutes later, a different Myra brought a tray of food and drinks, distributed dishes, and left two small plates and cups in the middle of the table.

  “What are those for?” Stryx asked.

  Norrix jabbed a straw into his vanilla milkshake. “Sharing.”

  “Ha!” Ember held up her steak knife. “Don’t even think I’m sharing. Even if you could eat it.”

  “You'll see.”

  The ravens swooped from their perch, landed on the tabletop, and stared at the empty dishes expectantly. Norrix poured his milkshake into the small cups and added grapes and apples to the small plates.

  “Good boy!” the ravens chorused.

  Ember gaped, then erupted into laughter. Even Stryx had a small smile.

  Huginn stuck his beak in the ice cream while Muninn delicately lifted an apple slice from the plate.

  Ember laughed. “They are reprobates! Shame on you two.”

  “They’re obsessed with human food.”

  Unable to resist the beady-eyed stares, cocked heads, and unsubtle nudges of plates in her direction, Ember shared her meal and part of Stryx’s. Finished with the last bite, she stretched her arms over her head. “I’m stuffed. I think I’d like to take a walk before I go to bed.”