Myth's Legend: Norrix

by Ysobella Black

“Her gate opened on the lake shore. Go get your girl, Mr. N.”

  He turned to leave, then remembered his other errand. “Miss E. and Mr. S need to meet with Deathless or his companion. Would you send a message?”

  She nodded. “But it might be better if the pixies don’t see you. Don’t get killed by the messengers, and all that.”

  He laughed. “You’ve been talking to Zax. It's ‘Don’t kill the messenger.’ ”

  Clio unsuccessfully tried to cock her head to the side. “Does it work when you correct her?”

  “No. I get it. I’m leaving.”

  She waggled a big mitt. “Adieu, bon voyage, ciao, don’t die, excellent egress, farewell, goodbye —”

  Norrix flipped up her visor and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “I expect the wedding to be here!” Her helmet clicked shut.

  He waved an arm over his head in a vague acknowledgement of her words as he sprinted through the lobby.

  Myth’s gate opened on a lake shore here. That meant a lake shore wherever she was going. It would have to be isolated for the gate to be big enough to open on the ground.

  Norrix unlocked the door to his room and threw the closet door wide. He filled a waterproof pouch with keys, his phone, money, identification, and two guns. Ashana was neutral territory, but it didn’t have a problem with guests carrying weapons, only if they were used.

  Changing into black cargo pants and a hooded long-sleeved shirt made of dark, heavy UV blocking material, he tucked gloves into a pocket. That would protect him from sunlight, but the water made him nervous. Vampires were bound to earth magic. He had nothing to restore the strength he’d lose in or over water. He slipped knives into sheaths, a collapsible staff into loops on his thigh, and strapped on empty holsters for the firearms.

  The others of the Ildum often left him out of the fighting since he could get lost in his memories at any second. He couldn’t blame them. The idea of getting his heart staked or his head cut off because he couldn’t concentrate held no appeal for him either. But he couldn’t wait for the rest of them. He had to do this himself.

  With no more plan than to follow his Dragă, he ran for the lake. She’d only been here for the knife, which he’d given her. There was no reason for her to stay.

  By the lake, he chose a boulder to conceal himself and peered around the rock when a breeze carried the scent of apples to him. Myth walked like her feet weighed two tons each. Why was she going back when she so clearly didn’t want to? There was only one way to find out. He skulked around rocks and trees to come up behind Myth.

  She stood on the lake shore and stared at the black key in her hand. Her arm seemed to weigh a ton as she lifted it to extend the key and turn it. Norrix picked up his pace as the telltale click opened the gateway.

  Small bag in hand, Myth trudged into the portal. It was dark on the other side. Night. At least he wouldn’t turn to ash the moment he crossed. He waited until the last possible moment and dove through the rift after Myth, rolling to the side as he landed. It was indeed night, and dense grey fog obscured the area.

  Myth plodded away from the gate along the lake without a backward glance. Her slow steps stopped when a wooden barge appeared out of the gloom.

  “Hurry up, witch,” a man’s gruff voice ordered. “You’re late. Iqiohr is waiting for his Esne.”

  The name Iqiohr meant nothing to him. He needed the title of the mage.

  Her shoulders slumped as her entire being diminished before his eyes. The creature before him resembled nothing of the spirited woman who’d asked him for a story book kiss. Norrix clenched his fists, wanting to murder the mocking man who shackled his Dragă so thoroughly with only a few words.

  Two men leapt into thigh-deep water and used ropes to haul the boat closer to shore. A wide plank extended from the barge to the beach. They herded Myth with poles like she was a wild animal. She moved like it was the steps to a gallows and her execution.

  While their attention focused on her, Norrix took silent but rapid steps to the water’s edge. It got deep quickly. Where he stepped in, there was no footing, and he fell with a splash. “What was that?” One of the men spun around.

  “Probably one of those damned dogs,” another man said.

  Norrix held still, hoping his black clothing hid him well enough in the fog drifting over the lake.

  Dogs in the lake? Ahuizotls? It would have taken a lot of power to separate one from its pack. There was no way even two mages could have broken multiple ahuizotls apart. If they were here, that meant this was Lake Texcoco, and Myth lived in Aztlan. The home of the Scorpion Mage.

  Norrix fought to order his memories. An enormous island in the middle of the lake. Seen from above, it was shaped like a tree with seven boughs, each connected to a cave. Seven tribes, each originating from one of the caves.

  Fighting panic and the urge to flail, he stretched his arms out, fingers brushing the edge of the barge. Using all his strength, Norrix pulled his body under the raft and clung, thankful he didn’t need to breathe.

  The center of the roots was where the Scorpion Mage made his home. A palace built from white marble. Norrix resisted the urge to snort underwater. Nothing was too good for the Scorpion Mage. While none of the mages trusted or liked each other, this one in particular had always thought himself better than everyone else, even his mage brothers.

  Several pyramids and temples of white stone, so tall it could be seen from the banks of the lake. Steep steps on four sides led to a platform that looked to be constructed from red bricks, but were white stained with blood from sacrifices of still beating hearts.

  Ember said the knife and the book didn’t belong together, and seen together they hadn't sparked any fragmented memories. But here in Aztlan... Something about Aztlan and the black knife ate at his memories. Had he seen that knife before? Witnessed it do something?

  Damn Nebu.

  The men herded Myth aboard, retrieved the plank, and pushed away from the shore.

  The inky water around him had zero visibility. Stuck face up, he had no way of knowing what lay below him. Ahuizotls here weren’t likely to be as friendly as the one Ember and Stryx brought back from the island. Norrix couldn’t drown, but they could dissolve his bones.

  Away from the bank, the barge picked up speed, skimming across the surface so quickly Norrix only maintained his tenuous grip by digging his fingernails into the wood as his body felt heavier by the second.

  “My cousin Tizoc has been spending a lot of time with the little witch.” One of the men's voices carried to Norrix. What little witch?

  “No. He won’t let you have her. I did as Iqiohr asked.” Myth's voice trembled. “She’s only four years old.”

  “It is already wearing the totem of our family. Four is young, but not too young to show it what a witch is for, right? How old were you when Iqiohr started your training?”

  Myth had a daughter. A daughter. A vampire could only sire children with his Dragă, but Norrix had long ago put thoughts of a family out of his mind. Zax’s words came back to him now — the end begins when he saw through child’s eyes again. His own child? His Dragă’s? And the end of what? He’d always thought Zax meant the end of the world — She’d beaten back the blackness that swallowed worlds more before, but she didn't always win. A final death for himself? He’d wished for that more than once. But the idea of a family, fathering children, made his past crumble. The last ten thousand years were nothing. His life started now, and forever wouldn’t be long enough.

  The reason Myth had to return was clear. Why hadn’t she told him? Did she think he would ask her to leave her daughter in this place? Or use her daughter against her? It didn’t matter. It only mattered he had two rescues instead of one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  MYTH

  BLACK KEY IN ONE HAND, obsidian knife in the other, Myth made sure to keep her eyes forward as the barge approached the island. Iqiohr would expect her to behave as usual, which meant staring at him a
doringly. Keeping her face expressionless took all her concentration. All she wanted to do was weep. Freedom had been so close. But it was an illusion. She’d never leave her daughter behind.

  The brief stint of independence made walking back into this cage bitter, but her life was here as long as her daughter was. The sooner she forgot about Norrix, and all the impossible things he made her long for, the better for her and Fable.

  When the fog cleared, Iqiohr stood at the front of a crowd of his soldiers on the end of the dock, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed diminished, frame shrunken, while his hair and eyes looked whiter than when she left two days ago, standing out against the darkness of the night. Beacons that led her back into prison.

  The barge stopped, and Myth stepped onto the dock. Iqiohr held out a hand. Myth placed the key and the knife in his palm. His other hand lashed out, seizing her chin in a crushing grip. Her eyes watered as not-Iqiohr’s white, lifeless gaze bored into her, like he could tell what she’d done with Norrix.

  She’d tried to wash away all evidence. There weren’t any marks. Her breasts were bound tightly, her hair in an approximate updo of braids that he liked. Keeping her eyes empty of revulsion and pain wasn't as easy as before she left. Or maybe he could tell the magic she’d left with wasn't on her anymore.

  After an eternity, he released her without a word and dismissed her with a slight tilt of his head toward the palace. The men split, opening a path for her. Careful not to touch any of them, Myth backed towards the entrance, unsure if this was some sort of test. Iqiohr wasn’t acting quite right. He turned to his men, holding the knife high. They cheered.

  Why was the knife so important? What had she done? Myth closed her eyes. There was no point in wondering since she would do anything to save Fable.

  An exhalation of relief escaped her lips as soon as she was around the corner and out of sight.

  Now what should she do? Iqiohr hadn’t said she had to go to her cell, even though it was well into the evening. She had to keep up appearances until she could get to Fable. The guards wouldn’t think it strange if she wandered. That was normal, and they’d expect her to look for Fable. Myth planned her aimless route to go by as many windows at the front as possible and stopped in front of random doors.

  Her daughter wasn’t in the palace. The magic of their connection told Myth that. First thing — try to feel the direction of Tizoc's house.

  Hello, tlazotli amoxtli.

  Nantli! You’re home?

  I am. How are you?

  I’m being brave. We’re reading a book. We had good food for dinner.

  Myth tried to look anxious as she roamed room to room, listening to Fable’s chatter. She covered the ground floor and the upstairs, pausing in front of random doors. When she stepped onto a balcony, a pull to the left narrowed her search to that direction. To keep up her pretense, she crept downstairs, taking one of the lit torches with her. The lowest levels were always dark and smelled damp. No one wanted to go there, where the monsters lived and the witches were kept.

  The torchlight cast spooky shadows on rock-hewn walls. The doors in these corridors all locked from this side to keep the monsters out of the palace, and the prisoners in. When the previous Scorpion Mage had given Myth to Iqiohr, they’d lived in the palace, even though it would be years before an eight-year-old boy could assume the mantle of Scorpion Mage.

  Fable had magic. With her own bound, Myth hadn’t been able to bind Fable’s, something she regretted not figuring out sooner. Had Iqiohr really let the boy’s family take Fable away permanently? He wielded their daughter to control Myth, so why let that sort of power over her go? A sinking sensation froze her in place. Her vision blurred, and she covered her abdomen with one hand.

  She needed to find her daughter and get out of this place. Fable deserved a better life than this, and for the first time Myth had hope. No one had searched her. She returned the key Iqiohr gave her to get to Ashana, but the other two keys, each tucked in to the top of one of her sandals, felt like sizzling secrets against her skin. She needed her daughter and a barge. They would be safe in Ashana if she could just get them there.

  An arm shot out of a doorway, taking Myth by the elbow and dragging her across the hall into an open doorway. Shocked that someone here dared touched her, Myth didn’t make a sound. She stared at the hand clamped around her arm, but didn’t need to. The touch was cool, but her blood heated.

  Norrix.

  Her eyes tracked from the fingers, to the wrist, up the arm, to his face and his golden eyes that saw into her. His hair and clothes were wet. How was he here? Had he swum across the lake for her? That was insane.

  Norrix slid his hand down her arm and took the torch from her. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her to his side. “I’m here. I came to get you and—”

  “No, no, no!” Myth whispered. “How are you here? You can’t be here!” She pushed away, opened the door behind him, and motioned him inside. As soon as Norrix entered the room, she pulled the door closed, locked it, and leaned her back against it. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have followed me.”

  For all Norrix’s talk of Dragăs and love, he didn’t know she had a daughter by one of the mages he so hated. And now it was possible Myth was carrying a mage’s son. She couldn’t tell Norrix that. Couldn’t bear to think of his heart beating with disgust rather than the love vampires had for their Dragăs.

  Nor could she hide Norrix. It was one thing for her to wander around the palace, but he didn’t fit in at all. She couldn’t leave with him, or save him right now. The door had been left open, so the cell must have been empty. He would be safe there until she could come back for him later. If she could. If she was caught with him... There was no telling what Iqiohr would do, but none of it would be pleasant.

  And Iqiohr wouldn’t give power away by keeping their child from Myth permanently. So either he was going to make her disappear like her mother had, or he would transfer his power over her to something else he could use to control her.

  If she was pregnant... if she carried his son, he didn’t need Fable anymore, and it was more important than ever to get her daughter away from Aztlan.

  So, she had to make a choice between the two people she loved. Hot tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She’d cherish the one time she’d known pleasure, been touched with desire and reverence, maybe even love.

  But now she was on her own, because she had to choose Fable.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  NORRIX

  NORRIX SLAMMED A FIST into the closed door. “Myth!” She hadn’t let him tell her he knew about her daughter and would get them both out. Hadn’t let him say anything. Dragăs were infuriating! How was a vampire supposed to deal with all this?

  She didn’t answer. Her light footsteps pattered away, leaving behind the sound of her crying and the salty scent of tears.

  Why was she doing this? He’d seen the hope and happiness in her eyes when she first saw him, but her emotions shut down. His heart gave a desultory flutter as she closed off, as he saw anger and despair when she looked at him.

  He thumped the door again and spun around. This room was abyss dark. Even his vampire vision couldn’t pick much out. The wall under his hand felt like rough stone, and a musty scent of decay filled the air. Small waves slapped against rock not far away. He pulled his phone from its waterproof pouch and turned on the flashlight app, playing the beam around the cavern Myth had locked him into. People, or what had once been people, lay scattered on the floor. They lacked eyes, teeth, fingernails, and all their bones, the skins that remained looking like deflated balloons.

  Ahuizotls. This must be some sort of lair.

  The lapping sound of the water changed. Something was walking through the shallows. The light reflected red eyes. No, there were a dozen red eyes looking back at him. This was a pack of them. Did Myth know they were here? Did she mean to kill him? Ember hadn’t killed Stryx, even after their tumultuous start. Norrix refused
to believe he would be the first vampire killed by his Dragă.

  The ahuizotls stalked towards him, shaking water off their sleek, rubbery hides. Sharp white fangs gleamed. Growls morphed from menacing to confused as they neared. The largest one, its head chest height on Norrix, snuffled his boots. Mush had smelled the ahuizotl from the mage’s island on him. So had Baba Yaga's dog. But that was before he’d been immersed in water. Hopefully. enough scent remained on his laces.

  “I think you can understand me, can’t you? I’m a friend. We rescued an ahuizotl like you from a different mage. Are you missing one from your pack? I should have finished reading Thoth’s book again, so talking with animals was fresh in my mind. If you don't kill me, I’ll bring your lost pack mate here. He’s at my house. I’ll show you.”

  Norrix dialed Jael’s number. The subscriber has traveled out of the service area. Please try again later. What the fuck? How was that possible? There shouldn’t be anywhere in the world out of range of one of Karov’s gadgets. Worst case, a call should go straight to voice mail. Where could Jael be?

  No time to worry about that now. Norrix scrolled to Zeke's name and dialed. No answer. He tried Xenos. Voice mail. Ciaran. Nothing. Stryx wouldn’t be home yet. Ember had left Idris in her Dragă space so he could be with Musette. Idris wouldn’t welcome an interruption, but Norrix called anyway. Several rings, then voice mail.

  The ahuizotls paced and circled closer, growing restless. Gods. Of all the times for no one to answer their phones. Drake and Sabien weren’t at the compound. Nobody had heard from Riordan, Tazraus, or Requiescere in a thousand years. As a last resort, Norrix called Alaric, who answered. Naturally. “Hi, Norrix. How is Ashana? Are you well done? Did you see the succubus? What about —”

  Gods. The Fae and his questions were worse than Clio and her lists sometimes. “Are you at the compound?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Alaric would never let Norrix live this down, and these were dangerous words to say to him in particular. Owing a Fae anything, much less an unnamed favor, was always a dangerous prospect. At least the green glow and sparkles were gone. That would have been so much worse. Norrix forced the words out. “I need a favor. Take your phone to the underwater spring and get the ahuizotl on your screen.”