Zelia's Lost Path

by Zora Marie

  Tempered In ICe

  A Phoenix of Hope Novel

  by Zora Marie

  Tempered in Ice

  Published by Starcatcher Press

  Copyright © 2020 Zora Marie

  Cover design by: Zora Marie

  Edited by: Ducky Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, duplicated, copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written consent and permission of the author.

  This work is of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  For contact information, please visit:

  www.starcatcherpress.com

  To Mrs. Perrott for helping me learn to read.

  (even if I still cannot spell)

  1

  Chaos had broken across the wall walk where Darkans spilled over the ramparts. Zelia plowed into one of the deformed and twisted descendants of the Dark Elves that ran towards her brother Alrindel. Even with a stab of pain in her side as she slammed into the Darkan, she did not falter. As she knocked the Darkan’s blow away from her brother, she heard a faint snap but paid it no mind as the thunderous roar of her heart pounded in her ears and she slid her blade through an opening in the Darkan’s armor. Then time seemed to shift, and she shook as she sat just inside the inner gate, watching as the cracks in her hands and arms receded, leaving trails of blood in their wake. A spike of pain emanated from her gut as the rush of adrenaline ebbed and her hand came away from her side, coated in her own sticky blood.

  Suddenly she was riding out of the inner gates with the remainder of her kin and King Gregory’s men to give those inside a chance to escape in the tunnels that led through the mountain. Her side burned from her hasty cauterization, but still she rode. Their horses made it past the remains of the outer gate before falling to the spears of the Darkans. Her brothers stood with their backs to her, each protecting the others. Time dragged on as she fought, then she turned towards where Eragon and Saria fought side by side. “No,” she muttered, watching helplessly as the tip of a sword pierced Eragon’s chest. Her sword slipped from her fingers, and she screamed. The warmth of tears and blood mingled on her cheeks, and the embrace of someone else enveloped her.

  “It’s just a dream,” the voice was soft and familiar, yet did not belong to the person who held her.

  She shot into a sitting position, cold sweat dripping from her brow as she struggled to remember where she was. Then pain ripped through her side from the gaping hole left after the healers removed the poisoned arrowhead and with a gasp she fell over, clutching her side as she rocked on the soft bed.

  “It’s alright, you’re alright,” Alrindel soothed, a slight strain in his tone.

  When the throbbing spikes of pain eased and her vision cleared, she glanced over her shoulder at Alrindel, her elvish brother. There was a bit of sleep caught in the corner of his eye, and a knot of guilt tightened into a sick feeling in the pit of her gut for having woken him. He must have fallen asleep watching over her, just as he had when she was little. It was for him Eragon had died.

  She couldn’t bear that Eragon had died for her and her brother, but her brother’s death would have broken her. It was for the broken part of her that he had given his life for the girl he had soothed as she sobbed for the first time in centuries. He must have known just how much she needed Alrindel to live.

  Zelia craned her neck to glimpse the starlight through the door to the balcony. The stars in the sky called her name. She knew she needed to piece herself back together for him and all the others who had died at the will of the wizards. If only she knew how.

  She eased to the edge of the bed, putting her bare feet on the wood floor for the first time in centuries. The floor felt bumpy, and the moss tickled her feet. Had it been so long? How had she forgotten the floors of her childhood home? What had once been so familiar was alien to her now. She had grown so used to the cold, rough stone of the cave, and after that, the smooth stone in Hyperia.

  “Where are you going?” Alrindel asked.

  She flinched at the concern in his tone and shook her head. “Please, just give me a few. I just...” she trailed off and cringed as she edged onto the open balcony and collapsed to her knees, the cold wrapping around her. Should have listened to Eadon. She rocked as the pain eased back, the side of her nightgown clutched in her fist. Nightgown, she mused, that was something else she wasn’t used to anymore. She had only ever had one set of clothes in the cave.

  Speckles of stars and a thin crescent moon lit the sky. Now that she was past the enchanted doorway, the cold air brushed frigid fingers across her skin with the first signs of deep winter. Elves sang and danced along the edges of the lake, their sweet songs as bright as the stars. She sat back against the outer bark of the tree, leaning against the thick vine railing where it met the tree. All the parts of her home worked together in perfect harmony, the opposite of everything within her.

  She stared up at the stars, her thoughts turned to her fallen friends.

  You never should have followed me to The Hold, Eragon. I can never repay you for what you’ve done. You were there when there was no one else and you’ve given me my family back.

  Her chest tightened against the plate that held her ribcage together as tears welled in her eyes. That plate was just one reminder among many of the price of her freedom.

  I hope you rest easy in the afterlife.

  The caw of a raven at her feet shook her from her thoughts. It echoed across the lake, causing the Elves to pause their song.

  “Who are you?” she asked in disbelief, ravens never came here.

  “A messenger of Yargo.”

  “What? What are you doing here? How do you even know of Elyluma? Eleanor keeps it hidden.”

  “Lumid perceives this place, even if he cannot see it. I think you forget they are gods.”

  Zelia rolled her eyes at the messenger’s words. “They are not gods, they live, and they die. Only the humans consider them gods, and if the Elves didn’t fight alongside them, they might also consider them gods. They are originally from Hyperia, as are the Dwarves and Fairies.”

  He preened his wing as he replied, “Yargo sent me with a message.

  “While Rogath may still be mad at you, we understand that the ice flare that froze us and killed one of our guards was out of your control. We know you never wanted to hurt us or our guards.

  “Zivu has left you something in a pocket dimension. She is convinced you can figure out how to open it with your ice powers. Take care of yourself, Zelia.”

  He fluttered his wings and hopped closer. “I think that was all.”

  “He sent you all this way for that?”

  “He knows of your nightmares and that you still have a role to play.”

  “What role?” Zelia asked.

  “He does not yet know, but he knows you still have a role to play in what is coming. Take care of yourself, Zelia.” The raven gave a slight bow of his head and flew off, leaving her with more unanswered questions.

  Alrindel crossed the balcony to sit beside her. A mix of concerned and exhausted energy vibrated off of him. She cringed and shifted her weight to lean against him, shivering as she did so. “Sorry, Alrindel,” she said his name more as a reassurance to herself that he was truly there than anything.

  His stern expression melted away, and he wrapped his arms around her, scooping her up. “Come on, we should get you back inside. The last thing you need is to catch a cold on top of the infection.”

  Ead
on stood in the doorway, arms crossed, when Alrindel stepped off the balcony. He shook his head and followed them to the bed. “I didn’t realize we would have to watch you day and night to ensure you stay in bed. One would think the infection from that arrowhead and the gaping hole in your side would be sufficient.”

  She fought back a smile, but Eadon caught it.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “It’s just nice to be back here, with—” her breath caught in her throat as Alrindel sat her on the bed.

  He kept her from falling over as she forced a gasp for air. Her feet arched as she fought back the pain. The strain of trying to breathe past the agony caused the wound to tear again.

  She watched Eadon’s arms drop as blood seeped through her bandage and onto her gown, making it damp and sticky against her skin. He grabbed a fresh roll of gauze and flask of sterilized water from the corner of the room and sat on the edge of the bed across from Alrindel.

  “You already broke your side open so we might as well wash it out again.”

  She forced herself to swallow as she nodded.

  She could feel his tension from seeing her this way as he slid her down, one arm across her back and the other under her knees. They had thought her dead for so long. She could only imagine how they felt now that she was back and in such a state.

  Well, at least they hadn’t seen her after Yargo rescued her from Asenten, like Rogath had. The image of her mangled chest and his shaking hand as he wiped a trail of blood from her cheek burned in her memory, as did his emptiness, his loss, his fear, and his anger.

  She curled her toes in anticipation, biting her lip as Eadon washed the poison and infection from her wound.

  “Shh, lie still,” Alrindel cooed, keeping her from arching her back.

  She shivered as the initial shock of the cool water passed. At least after Yalif’s healing she hadn’t been so weak. She had never experienced an infection like this, not even during all those long years when Asenten held her captive.

  Eadon cleaned the blood off her and wrapped a fresh bandage around her waist, tight but not so tight as to make it too difficult for her to breathe. Still, she struggled for air as she shivered.

  They helped her slip a clean gown on and Alrindel pulled her close to ease the shivering. Warmth radiated from him, and she snuggled closer like a small child. Part of her screamed that she was no longer a child, but she ignored it. Here, among them, her appearance didn’t matter, not when part of her was still trapped as that little girl who had woken in a dark cave.

  “If your side looks better in the morning, I’ll stitch it up.” Eadon cleaned his hands with stiff movements.

  She could see the pain etched on his face, and her gaze fell. “Eadon, I’m sorry for putting you through all of this.”

  The bed shifted, and he swept a long brown curl out of her face. “Zelia, I would gladly go through this a thousand times over rather than lose you again. No matter how much it breaks my heart to see you like this.”

  She could tell there was something more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself.

  Then he seemed to continue with a different line of thought. “I have a question. What were you doing out of bed? I thought you were asleep.”

  Eadon studied her face as she shivered without reply. She couldn’t bring herself to open up. All the wounds were still too raw, and she feared hurting them with the truth.

  “You were having nightmares, weren’t you?” Eadon asked.

  She nodded and pressed her head against Alrindel’s chest.

  “That raven wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?” Eadon asked.

  “No, he was bringing me a message from Hyperia. He’s one of Yargo’s messengers.”

  “And why did Yargo send you a messenger?”

  For a moment Zelia studied Eadon. She was certain Skylar had told him and Eleanor about her time living with Yargo and Zivu as an adopted daughter of sorts, but maybe he hadn’t. That’s not what Eadon is asking, she told herself. “Zivu left me something in a pocket dimension, which she’s sure I can open. Even though I’ve never opened a pocket dimension before. Even now she tries to teach me.”

  “Come on, what else did he tell you?” Eadon pressed.

  She let out a soft sigh. “Yargo knows about my nightmares and that I still have a role to play, he just doesn’t know what.”

  Eadon nodded. “You should both get some rest.”

  “Wait, what do you know?” Zelia asked.

  “Nothing for sure. Rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” Eadon stopped just before leaving the room. “And Zelia, no getting out of bed.”

  Alrindel teased her as he laid back, being careful not to move her side too much. “Promise not to get up this time?”

  She gave a defeated shrug then snuggled against him. He had always been her protector, and it seemed he was determined to never let her be taken again.

  He tucked the blanket around her and hummed until she drifted off to sleep.

  ~

  The room was dim and the constant drip of water echoed through the cave. Where am I? This isn’t The Cave. She turned around and something gleamed in a shaft of light.

  “Back foul beast or feel the wrath of a son of Fregnar!”

  Her heart caught in her throat at the mention of Fregnar. No, it can’t be. That’s not his voice. She focused on the creature that loomed over him. Several heads bobbed back and forth, hissing at the man through yellowed, fanged teeth that gleamed as they passed through the shaft of light.

  “Just a little farther,” the man’s whisper was barely audible. “Yes!”

  He slashed at a damaged column with a thread of dark magic, and a chunk of the cavern ceiling crashed down on the creature.

  “NO!” the voice of a dragon boomed through her mind as a snarl echoed through the cave. A dragon charged at the man, and he fled into a narrow passage. Fire followed him and she woke with a start, her heart thundering in her chest.

  It was just a dream, she assured herself and eased back against Alrindel, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. A dream, she thought, and wondered what it meant.

  She stared into the dim void of the far wall until the first signs of daylight lightened the room.

  “How long have you been awake?” Alrindel rubbed her back.

  “A while.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It... it’s nothing.” She pushed the dream from her thoughts.

  “Alright. If you promise to stay put, I’ll go get you something to eat.”

  She nodded and gritted her teeth as he sat her up in the bed with pillows behind her.

  He came back with a bowl of fruit and bread for both of them to choose from. When she picked up an apple, he scrunched his nose at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You can’t live off of apples alone, you know that, right?” he teased.

  “What? They’re my favorite and—” she cut herself off as her mind wandered down a path she didn’t wish to go.

  “Mmmhm, I remember when you used to have to cut them up because you couldn’t get a good bite on them. I think that was the only blade you were good with in those days.”

  “Nice to see you smiling this morning.” Eadon stood in the doorway. “Alrindel, Koin needs your help with something. I’ll have someone else keep an eye on her.”

  As soon as they left, a guard stepped in and stood near the door. She sighed and fiddled with the water they had left for her. Then she remembered the portal and the message from Zivu.

  Zelia thought back to her time watching Zivu. She would hold a clear orb of ice and its surface would ripple as her hand disappeared into the sphere. Zelia poured the water into her hand, freezing it before it could run off the sides of her palm. She shaped it, running her hand’s back and forth over its surface as her p
owers pushed and pulled at it.

  When she was satisfied that it was as close to a perfect sphere as she could get it, she held it up to the light. There was a white haze in the center, as if a cloud of mist was trapped in its core. Zelia focused on the little pockets of air, forcing the trapped air to the surface.

  It was midday when she first managed to open a portal, the power needed to open it cracking through her head like the pulse of a migraine.

  “Fregnar,” she cursed as she recognized the familiar sting of flames against her skin. Only these weren’t her own. She removed her flaming arm from the reflective swirl of ice and patted the flames out.

  “Um, Alrindel…” the elvish guard called down the hall.

  I bet Rogath would roll in laughter if he saw this. She let out a sad sigh and scooped the sphere back off the bed. How she missed his presence. Tiny superficial cracks had spread across her hand where the fire had touched and she watched them recede, a few drops of blood remaining on the surface of her skin. At least this part of her was still healing quickly, she mused.

  When the cracks had gone, she tried again.

  Alrindel came into the room as she pulled her arm from a new portal.

  “Oh, you figured it out.”

  “She was just on fire.” The guard stepped closer to the door.

  “Yeah, she just does that sometimes.” Though his tone was dismissive, his knitted brow said otherwise.

  “I didn’t mean to be on fire this time. I stuck my hand into a pocket dimension filled with flames. I’m fine and I found the one Zivu intended, though more instructions would have been nice.” She held out a plate of pastries covered in a white powder. “Beignet? They’re fantastic and the pocket dimension kept them fresh, they’re even still warm.”

  Alrindel picked up a piece of the sugar covered fried dough, inspecting it with squinted eyes as he took a cautious bite. His eyes sprang wide as he chewed. “Um, this is great.”

  “Told you so.” She took one for herself and put the rest back for later. Her hand brushed against something else and she pulled it out.