Reflection- Thorn of the White Rose

by Rachel R. Smith

  “No,” Nerissa said firmly. “This is the reason why I came here in the first place. Alden and the prophecy both told us to beware of what is down here. The trap is meant to keep anyone other than the ‘true owner’ from taking the book. If either one of us opens the chest, it should be me.”

  She deliberately maintained a placid expression while Rian struggled to find an argument against her logic. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and exhaled heavily. “Fine,” he said flatly.

  Nerissa waited until she was kneeling in front of the chest with her back to him before allowing herself to smirk in triumph. She hadn’t expected him to give in so quickly.

  The latch mechanism gave an audible click as she pressed the release, but the hinge, frozen from years of corrosion, refused to move. She pried at the metal hasp with her fingernails to no avail. Frustrated, she turned to ask Rian for help and found him gazing down at her with an amused smile on his lips. The phrase “to win the battle but not the war” immediately sprang to Nerissa’s mind.

  Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the trunk without saying a word. She balled her fist and swiftly brought it down against the lid directly above the latch. It popped up a fraction of an inch, barely enough for her to slip her fingers under it. Rian snorted in annoyance at the shrill squeak the hasp emitted as she forced it the rest of the way back.

  Nerissa hesitated before pushing the lid open, taking a deep breath and mentally bracing herself for what may be inside—or for what may come out. Finally, she slowly eased it upward, the hinges rasping in rusty protest with every inch of movement. Rian hovered so closely behind her that she couldn’t tell whether it was trepidation that made her skin tingle or the feeling of his breath on the back of her neck. Was he trying to hold the glow lamp closer or to shield her from whatever danger lay within? Either way, she felt grateful.

  But once the lid was fully open, nothing unusual happened. Another, smaller container was nested inside. The smaller box was utterly utilitarian in design and made entirely of metal. Its only distinguishing features were the handles on each side and a crust of soot that covered most of the surface. This had to be the fire-damaged strongbox belonging to Alden’s great-grandfather.

  There was no way to open it without removing it first. Nerissa grasped the handles and attempted to lift it from the chest, but it was too heavy.

  In the middle of her third attempt, Rian cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to carry that yourself. I know you’re concerned about the warning, but the reason why I came in here is to help you.”

  Nerissa chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. Years of archery training with Einar had made her upper body strong, while conditioning with the Ohanzee had made her even stronger, and yet she couldn’t lift as much as many men. Some things just weren’t physically possible. Still, if she wanted to maintain her disguise, she couldn’t call attention to that fact. And then an idea occurred to her.

  “It’s probably also too heavy for you to pick up, and doing so might trigger the trap. Let’s each take one side. If the trap works like the other crystals, it’ll probably be alright as long as I’m touching the box as well,” she said.

  “That’s reasonable,” Rian replied. He hung the glow lamp around his wrist and waited for Nerissa to grip a handle before picking up the other one himself. The wooden supports overhead creaked again, louder this time, and a mass of pebbles clattered to the floor nearby as they removed the box from the chest.

  “This one doesn’t have a lock on it eith—,” Rian started to say, but he never got the chance to finish his sentence.

  The handle of the strongbox was ripped from Nerissa’s grasp as it and Rian flew across the chamber. The box hit the far wall with enough force to gouge a crater. Books and papers rained out of it onto the ground below. Rian’s body struck the wall a split second later, and the lamp on his arm shattered, its light winking out as glowing glass fragments sprayed over his sprawled form like a shower of falling stars.

  “Rian!” Nerissa screamed his name so loudly her throat burned, but her voice was drowned out as the pitch-black chamber swelled with a cacophony of sound.

  Hundreds of voices, too many to distinguish, cried out from every direction, seemingly emitted from within the surrounding stone. Incoherent sobbing. A child begging to see his father. A woman’s forlorn wails. A chorus joined together singing the mournful notes of a funeral dirge. One voice—a man’s—stood out above them all repeating, “The book must remain safe.”

  Tears sprang to Nerissa’s eyes as a crippling sadness washed over her. The sensation was so intense that it almost sent her to her knees. The sorrow she felt over losing her parents came flooding back, making her feel like she was reliving those first miserable days after awakening in Darnal. As the voices climbed to a crescendo, wisps of bluish light seeped from the crystalline deposits in the walls like tendrils of fog. They swirled together in the center of the chamber, gradually growing more distinct until they formed a luminous, human-like silhouette. It flared in and out of existence like rhythmic lightning. The apparition in front of her was neither the lingering ghost of a deceased miner nor a wandering soul unaware of its own death, Nerissa realized. This spirit was an amalgamation of the anguish and grief felt by the villagers at the loss of their beloveds.

  If this creature was the result of triggering the trap Barr had set to protect the book, it was a formidable trap, indeed. For the first time in her life, Nerissa was horrified of the power that could be harnessed by crystals.

  There was no time for her to wonder how such a thing was possible, however. Each time the spirit flared into being, she could see that it had drawn another step closer to Rian’s limp body. Its strobing light transformed Nerissa’s vision into little more than a series of images haltingly stitched together.

  Flash.

  The spirit towered over Rian, drawing one arm back in preparation to strike.

  Flash.

  It brought its arm down, slashing across Rian’s back and ripping open the pack he wore. His agonized howl briefly rose above the other sounds before being swallowed by the woeful voices.

  Nerissa’s heart was rent in two by the sound of his suffering, yet with it came relief at knowing he was alive. Fear, sharper than the memory of her grief, pierced Nerissa’s gut like an ice-cold lance, sending chills radiating from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers.

  “Stop!” she shrieked as the spirit recoiled to hit Rian again.

  And, surprisingly, it did.

  In the blink of an eye, the spirit was looming over her, arm still drawn back and poised to strike. Nerissa dropped to the ground and rolled in an attempt to dodge the anticipated blow, bracing herself for the pain that was sure to come. Instead, as its arm came down, a tingling wave passed harmlessly through her.

  The spirit froze in place, and a woman’s voice suddenly carried above the clamor. “That person, the One who is no more, the One who has become another…,” the voice began, reciting the description of Nerissa from the prophecy.

  Then the spirit disappeared and reappeared near Rian. The man’s voice from earlier boomed out over the woman’s saying, “The book must remain safe,” so loudly that a shower of stones shook loose from the ceiling. Rian bellowed as the spirit battered him yet again.

  Heedless of the danger to herself, Nerissa stumbled across the chamber to put herself between Rian and the spirit. “Stop!” she commanded.

  But this time, the spirit did not obey. In the glow of its light, Nerissa could see that Rian’s arm was draped over a thick, leather-bound book. A crystal glinted from the spine. He’s lying on the book! She felt the same strange tingling as the spirit’s arm passed through her, and Rian yelled as it thrashed him a third time. The spirit may not be able to hurt her, but she couldn’t keep it from hurting Rian either.

  “The book must remain safe,” came the man’s voice, almost as if it were egging the spirit on.

  Nerissa’s mind raced
. If the spirit was supposed to keep the book safe, perhaps it would be an effective shield. She dropped to the ground and yanked the object from beneath Rian’s arm. Clutching it to her chest, she rolled on her side until her back was pressed against Rian.

  But her efforts were unnecessary. The instant she took the book into her arms, the spirit froze and began to dissipate. The constant barrage of voices slowly faded until solely the woman’s voice remained, tremulous yet unfaltering. “…the One who is no more, the One who has become another, the One who was seen before, the Reflection, will appear from the shadows.” The spirit bowed deeply as the last word resonated through the chamber and then winked out of existence.

  Stunned, Nerissa stared into total darkness trying to comprehend what just happened and to determine what she needed to do next. All she could see was the blue afterimage of the spirit that had burned into her eyes. She hugged the book tightly as if it were a ward to prevent the spirit’s return. Perhaps it was. She didn’t intend to stay long enough to find out.

  Still clinging to the book with one hand, she crawled toward where she had last seen the torches. She hardly noticed when something sharp—probably a shard of glass from the broken glow lamp—pierced through the fabric of her pants and cut the skin on her knee. Undaunted, she persisted onward, scrabbling blindly until she touched something familiar—the base of one of the torches.

  “Found one!” she declared to no one in particular, but her victory was short-lived. She ran her hand up its length searching for the end covered with waxed cloth only to discover that the torch had been severed cleanly in half. With a curse, she flung it as far as she could and frantically continued searching for the other torch, hoping it was intact.

  Finally, as her pounding heartbeat counted every passing second, her palm brushed the handle of the torch. Nerissa grabbed it and cheered in relief when she determined it was in one piece. After shoving the end of it into the waistband of her pants, she hastily crawled back to Rian.

  The flint-and-steel fire striker had been in the pocket of the backpack. All she could do was hope that it had been spared from the spirit’s fury. If the small tin box containing the fire striker had been scattered among the rest of the debris, her chances of finding it now was slim.

  As Nerissa gingerly patted the torn remains of the pack on Rian’s back, her fingers dragged across something sticky and warm on the canvas. Inhaling sharply, she set her jaw and redoubled her effort to find the tin. The metallic scent filling her nose told her what the liquid was, and the knowledge further fueled her desire to escape as quickly as possible. “Can you hear me, Rian?” she asked.

  He babbled something unintelligible in response, but that was enough to answer her question.

  “I’m going to get us out of here and back to the rope as fast as I can,” she said, as much for her own benefit as for his. Her heart leaped with joy when her fingers finally stumbled across the button to the front pocket.

  “Can’t…see…,” Rian moaned as she withdrew the tin box. She emptied the contents into her hand, and a cloth came out along with the flint and steel. Unsure what the cloth was for, she hastily cast it aside.

  “Don’t worry. I can’t see anything either,” Nerissa answered as she rocked back and pulled the torch from her waistband. “I’m trying to fix that now.”

  Rian grunted, but he didn’t say anything more.

  She put the torch on the floor in front of her, wedging the book between her knees so both of her hands would be free. The flint piece nearly slipped from her trembling fingers, but somehow she held onto it. Although she had watched others start campfires numerous times, Nerissa had never done it herself. The task looked simple enough at the time. All she had to do to produce sparks was strike the steel piece downward against the flint.

  Holding the pieces over the waxed end of the torch, she swiftly brought the steel down to the flint. Or, at least, she tried. Her hands were shaking so much the first time that she completely missed, swiping fruitlessly through the air.

  On the next try, the steel struck home, throwing out sparks in a shimmering spray. They fell downward and disappeared without producing so much as a brief glow on the cloth. Nerissa repeated the process over and over, pounding the flint with a futile flurry of ineffective strikes.

  “I need flames,” she chanted under her breath. Her lungs burned from the effort, and her throat was clenched tight with frustration and fear. Panting, she dropped her arms to her side, struggling to catch her breath. Every one of her thoughts was focused with razor sharpness on a single goal.

  Fire.

  A sudden heat flared between her breasts, so intense it almost felt like her skin had been seared. At the same time, the scent of burning cloth filled her nose as flames roared out from the head of the torch.

  Nerissa gasped in surprise and prodded at the warm spot on her chest, but there was no pain, and she had more pressing concerns to deal with. She nudged Rian, wincing sympathetically at the sight of his back where long hair and blood intermixed in a black and scarlet mass. “Time to leave,” she said. “I’m going to help you stand up.”

  “Moving hurts too much,” Rian groaned.

  Nerissa wedged herself beside him and wrapped his arm around her shoulder despite his protests. As she attempted to help him to his feet, his shirt began to ride up, and Rian struggled to cling to its hem. “This would be easier if you held onto me instead of your shirt,” Nerissa said, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

  Once she managed to get him into a sitting position, he slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. “Just leave me here and come back with the others.”

  Nerissa stood, careful to maintain a tight grip on the book. Though he spoke softly, Rian’s words echoed through the chamber. She remembered his insistence that he would not allow her to come here alone. An indescribable mixture of dread and resolve rose up from the pit of her stomach and rooted her feet firmly to the ground. There was no way she would leave him behind, not even temporarily.

  “If you can’t walk, then we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Nerissa said, silently thanking Raysel for teaching her a basic carrying technique as part of her training. She bent on one knee beside Rian and carefully nestled the book in the space between her leg and waist. Ignoring his protests, she draped one of his arms around her neck. Ducking down to wrap her elbow behind his knee, she lifted him from his feet so that his torso was fully supported across her shoulders.

  “You can’t carry me out of here,” Rian said.

  Nerissa huffed under the pressure of his additional weight. “What I can’t do is carry all of this and you at the same time. I need you to hold onto the torch for me. Can you manage that?”

  “I can do anything I have to,” Rian asserted despite the fact that his voice wavered with pain.

  “Likewise,” Nerissa replied, passing the torch behind her so he could take it with his free hand. She moved the book to hold it at her hip next to Harbinger and away from Rian. The last thing they needed was for it to brush up against him and accidentally resummon the creature.

  Using the wall to stabilize herself, she pushed up to a standing position and then began to stagger slowly across the chamber. Her thighs strained. Her unsteady knees threatened to buckle with every step, but she kept moving.

  “I knew you were strong, but I didn’t know you were this strong,” Rian said. “You’re full of surprises. That’s one of the things I like about you.” He rambled on, but his voice was so weak and her own breathing so labored that she couldn’t make out anything else until he said, “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “Lied…to me?” Nerissa panted in an attempt to keep him talking. His initial comments didn’t pass unnoticed, but there was no point in taking them to heart when Rian was obviously delirious. Still, it didn’t matter what he said. As long as she could hear his voice, she would know he was conscious.

  “Raysel really means it when he says he would die to protect you. I can’t go quite that far. I can�
��t die until I stop my father.”

  “Well, worry not…you won’t be dying today,” she managed to say. She supposed she should be grateful to have one less person willing to throw themselves on a sword for her sake, regardless of the reasoning. After all, that was what she said she wanted.

  Rian made a noise that vaguely sounded like a laugh and said nothing more. Nerissa willed herself to put one foot in front of the other, afraid that if she paused to rest she wouldn’t be able to make her legs move again. She persisted onward, going through the opening that led to the tunnel and back to pillar fourteen. Kneeling briefly, she let Rian slide to the floor and then picked up the rope, tugging it as hard as she could. She was supposed to pull three times to call for help, but she kept pulling until three floating white orbs bobbed into sight. Only then did she give in to her exhaustion and slump down beside Rian on the stone floor.

  Chapter 5

  Coincidences

  Nerissa

  The hallway door had barely closed behind Raysel before Nerissa flung off her blankets. She was feeling far too restless to lie in bed waiting for his return. Ever since the encounter with the spirit in the cave, the hours had passed by in a whirlwind of activity, and Nerissa’s racing pulse had just recently begun to taper. Leaning over the edge, she dragged out her pack and slipped her hand into one of the small interior pockets. She pulled the sparkling perfume bottle from Raysel out of its velvet pouch and unscrewed the top, inhaling deeply. The sweet aroma of roses blended with strawberries overwhelmed her senses, loosening her shoulders and settling her swirling thoughts.

  After savoring one final sniff, she returned the bottle to its place inside the pack and hopped out of bed. Her feet sank into the plush carpet, and she dug her toes into the pile, relishing the blissful softness. This was one of the most upscale inns in Rhea, chosen because it suited a group of merchants invited to do business directly with the governor himself. The carpet was such a subtle luxury that she might not have noticed it a year ago, yet it stood out to her now. The sensation almost offset the soreness that stiffened her lower back and thighs as she paced. Almost.