Mythia: and the Awakened Beast

by Margie Mandell

  They passed around a metal flank, drinking deeply and richly. When Zane handed it to Mythia, she poured the sweet wine down her throat and let it consume her. A warm happiness spread through her veins and she felt herself relax. She tossed the flank over to Ten, who slouched in the corner of the huge round table of the dining cavern. The low ceilings sparkled with stones and streaked with white. Mythia saw beauty within every inch of the cave, the Rejicio, her recruits. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so content.

  Zane leaned in closely to her, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “I say we get out of here. Have a bit of fun.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a place I like to go to when I need to think. I have a feeling you’d appreciate it.”

  Mythia looked at him curiously. “Okay. You’re on.” Zane beamed, his smile reaching his warm brown eyes. Krea watched from Zane’s other side, the smile on her face faltering. “Krea should come too,” Mythia suggested suddenly.

  Zane’s smile almost fell, but he nodded in agreement. “Sure! The more the merrier.” Krea’s smile reappeared, but only halfway.

  Mythia glanced toward Ten, who looked as glum as ever. “Let’s invite him too,” she whispered, nodding toward him.

  “What? That weirdo?” Zane asked in surprise, raising his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

  “Haven’t you heard, Zane?” Krea said with a sarcastic smile. “Ten is Bestia’s new best friend.” Zane raised his eyebrows at her.

  “He’s really not as bad as he looks,” Mythia said in her defense. “Besides, I think he could use a friend…” She watched as Ten picked up a scoop of his stew and let it plop back into the bowl.

  Zane jumped up as soon as they had finished eating. Mythia followed, her head spinning slightly from the wine. The other recruits glanced curiously at them as Mythia pulled Krea along and ran around the wide round table to Ten. She tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come with us,” Mythia pleaded softly. Ten stared up at them suspiciously. “Come on.” Mythia smiled as she pulled him up; he didn’t fight back. Instead he allowed her to grab his hand and drag him out of the dining cavern, following Zane and Krea.

  They climbed the stairs that led to the upper levels, passing level after level, bridge after bridge. The rows of long houses grew farther away until all they could see were the hundreds of roofs below them. They reached the highest part of the stairs that led into an empty ledge. Zane climbed on and pulled himself up, the other three following his steps.

  The view from the ledge was breathtaking. The entirety of the hidden Rejicio City was visible to them, sparkling in torchlight. Krea swung her legs over the edge, dangling them dangerously in the air and pulled out the flask to take another swig.

  “It’s like it belongs to us,” Zane said softly. Even Ten’s face broke through his serious shroud, his eyes widening with amazement. Mythia watched the three of them watching their city. Their city, she thought sadly. Not mine. Even Ten, who had come from Draconis, belonged here more than her.

  And that was when she knew. That was when she remembered, looking at the awed faces of her new friends, looking down at the massively expansive world of the rebels, the very people the legends spoke of. The Rejicio. Mythia sighed. I’m going to miss this. Her eyes filled with tears as the memories flowed through her of the Doctrine and Titus, of their journey for the scrolls, as the beast within her settled somewhere inside of her. Still, there was something missing.

  With a jolt, she noticed Zane’s brown eyes were resting on hers. She glanced at him, as a sudden strange feeling flowed through her. Something familiar. He reminded her of someone… but who? She was curious enough to keep watching him, wondering what the familiar feeling was that flowed so steadily through her. Zane stood up silently while Krea and Ten were absorbed in the view beneath them and pulled Mythia to the side.

  “This isn’t all of it,” he whispered in her ear. He took her hand and pulled her up even higher. He ducked into a small tunnel and they crawled carefully for a moment before Zane slipped out of an opening above them. He offered Mythia his hand and pulled her through the hole. From where they now sat, the city was visible from beneath, but the sky above them was opened wide, its many stars sparkling in the clear night sky, the crescent moon shining just for them.

  “Wow,” Mythia breathed. Zane watched her face light up from the picturesque scenery surrounding them. He moved in closer to her. He stood up to get a better view and motioned for her to do the same.

  Mythia held onto the rocky side of the tunnel opening and pulled herself up, but her black tunic caught hold of one of the boulders jutting out of the tunnel. Before she could stop it, the sound of ripping fabric tore through the night. Her burnt disfigured skin on her left shoulder glistened white and bare beneath the moonlight. She knew it was too late when the color in Zane’s face began to drain.

  “Bello never told me I was to win the heart of the queen.”

  “What?” Mythia breathed. “What do you mean by that?”

  Zane swallowed and took her hand. “Bello promised, that if I got you to fall in love with me, she would do everything she could to rescue my brother from the dungeons.”

  Mythia felt her heart sink to her stomach. She threw his hand away from hers as though it had electrocuted her.

  “Bestia,” he shook his head. “Or, Mythia, right?” Mythia stared at him. “I just wanted to help my brother. I don’t even know if he’s still alive… but I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing!”

  “How could you do this?” Mythia asked desperately. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m sorry… but that doesn’t matter anymore!” Zane’s voice echoed across the mountain top. “Because it became real! I didn’t mean for it to happen, but…” He looked away and covered his face with his hands. A shudder ran through him. “I’m the one who got tricked… falling for you while trying to get you to fall for me.” A sadness cascaded over Mythia like the moonlight that shone on her skin. Zane looked back at her, his eyes wide and wild. “How stupid, huh? Thinking someone like me could get someone like you to like me. But she didn’t tell me who you were. The queen. The unmarked of the legends. The chosen one.” He sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his nose.

  “What’s going on?” Krea’s voice broke through between them as she pulled herself up through the tunnel, Ten at her heels. She looked back and forth between Zane and Mythia, spotted Mythia’s torn sleeve and backed slowly away. “I knew it.” She glared at them before turning, huffing away, and disappeared quickly down the tunnel.

  “No, Krea, wait!” Mythia called after her. Ten looked curiously at Zane as Mythia slipped down after Krea, climbing as quickly as she could. She could just make out Krea’s golden brown hair disappear down the stairs as she ran after her. “Krea! It isn’t what you think!” She tugged desperately at her sleeve, pulling it up as high as she could, covering what she had tried to hide her whole life. Tears spilled down her face as she ran after her friend, tears from the unfairness that followed her wherever she went. How could she be so stupid? How could she ever think she belonged somewhere, could possibly blend in with anyone? She would never be able to live a normal life.

  She finally caught up with Krea at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed at her arm before she could go any farther. “Krea please! Let me explain!”

  “There’s nothing to explain, Bestia!” Krea sniffed, tears streaming down her face as well. “I knew Zane wouldn’t ever notice me, not with someone like you around. But I didn’t think you would go off alone with him this quickly and…”

  Mythia frowned. “No, Krea, that’s not what happened! I don’t care for Zane in that way.”

  Krea hiccupped and took a deep shuddering breath. “Then why is your tunic torn, Bestia?”

  “I tore it on the rock when I stood up. Look, Krea,” she pleaded, “nothing happened between me and Zane. But when my tunic tore, he saw my shoulder. And you might as well know, too.” Mythia
carefully pulled her sleeve back down to reveal the damaged bare skin beneath.

  Krea sniffed and peered at it for a moment before understanding crossed her face. She gasped and looked back at Mythia’s eyes. “You don’t have a mark?”

  “No, Krea. I don’t.”

  “Was it burned off?”

  “No.” Mythia watched her friend carefully. She could see the thoughts whirling around Krea’s head, her emotions clearly torn between hurt and confusion.

  “You’re the chosen one.” She finally understood.

  Mythia nodded her head. “And my name isn’t Bestia. It’s Mythia. Queen Mythia.”

  Krea’s blue eyes became as round as the moon itself. “I should’ve known.” Mythia raised her eyebrows. “Those gifts… no one else has that many elemental gifts. Or that much control over them.” She raised her eyes and sniffed again, a small smile on her face. “You’re really here. With us.” She smiled wider and before Mythia knew it, Krea had pulled her into an embrace, hugging her tightly. Mythia felt hot, salty tears spill out from her again, but this time it brought relief instead of pain.

  “You’re not mad?” Mythia asked carefully, wiping her face dry.

  “How could I be? You’re the chosen one we’ve been waiting for the last thousand years! We’re saved,” Krea gasped. Mythia looked at Krea and realized. Of course, she wasn’t mad at her. Krea had thought, in her innocence, that Mythia had come to save them, not to hide amongst them. Mythia blinked away one last tear and nodded. She stared deep into Krea’s eyes and could almost see hope and a bright future within them. A light bright enough to start a fire.

  “That’s right, Krea. I’m here to save the kingdom. And you’re going to be right by my side when I do.”

  13. THE PLAN

  Warmth filled the small cave, as the fire in the corner crackled and snapped. Bello stood behind the table in front of the fire, leaning on her hands. Eldrid and Mythia stood in front of her, waiting for Bello to begin the meeting.

  “Just waiting for one more,” Bello muttered, flipping over a piece of parchment and glancing casually at it. Bello had called Mythia and Eldrid in for a sudden meeting that evening. She was not sure if Bello was going to scold her again, or perhaps question her about her allegiance. Mythia peeked nervously over at Eldrid, who stood patiently still, his level of self-control and straight posture impressive. Bello glanced up as a soldier finally entered, her blond cropped hair flowing behind her. Mythia had to stop herself from calling out her name. She assumed Bello still didn’t know that Mythia had regained most of her memory, and for some reason, she wanted to keep it that way.

  Ventus glanced curiously at Mythia beneath her blond eyelashes. Bello shuffled through the parchment on her table and pulled out a large crinkled piece, painted with colors and words. It had huge spiraling letters that spelled out:

  THE ANNUAL JOUSTING TOURNAMENT OF TRIGONUS

  THIS SATURDAY, MIDDAY TILL DUSK

  KNIGHTS AGAINST KNIGHTS, BRAWN AGAINST BRAWN

  ALL ARE WELCOME TO

  WATCH THIS TRADITIONAL EVENT

  “The king is a fool,” Bello blurted out. “He appears to be holding the annual jousting tournament he has with his knights every year, despite the impending doom upon his kingdom. His confident arrogance will cost him dearly.” Bello smirked.

  Eldrid grabbed the parchment and glanced down at it carefully. “Interesting. I am surprised as well, that the king would want to uphold this tradition while he is in such a rage. Perhaps he is reverting back to his old state? Especially because it appeared to me that he had stopped caring for the wellbeing of the knights, and it was really a treat for the knights, more than anyone else.” He smiled blissfully, his thoughts far away of time’s past, until he caught Bello’s glare. He cleared his throat. “Are you thinking of using this as a distraction, Bello?”

  “Not quite.” She walked around her table and stopped in front of Ventus. “I’m looking to use it as a ruse. I’d like to place our best soldier in the tournament, disguised as a knight.” Her cold gray eyes drifted over to Ventus, who stood resolutely to the spot. “And I’d like for you to be that knight, Ventus.”

  “It would be an honor,” Ventus said with a bow. She could hardly contain a smile. Being a knight of Trigonus had always been her dream.

  “Eldrid, I will need you to train Ventus specifically in the way of a Trigonus knight so that she will blend in easily. She needs to become good enough at jousting to get through all the rounds. I have trust in her talent and your teaching ability. Bestia,” she faced Mythia. “I would like for you to lead your recruits into battle, in the front line. I heard Eldrid was quite impressed with your ability in elemental magic. Once Ventus does her job, you and your fellow soldiers will burst through and start the fight using both gift and sword. Choose the strongest amongst the recruits and choose carefully.”

  Ventus glanced up at Bello, a frown on her face. “What exactly do you want me to do, Bello? Other than competing.”

  “The prince will take part of the tournament as usual. I want you to fight him.” Bello lifted her chin up and cocked her head to the side, peering down at her most promising soldier. “And deal the fatal blow.” A shadow crossed Ventus’s face, but she kept her composure and nodded in understanding. “Once he is dealt with, we will only have the king to fight against. In his fragile state, with his son dead, and the shock of the invasion, I believe it won’t be too difficult. You two may be dismissed,” Bello said to the two women. They both walked swiftly out, leaving Eldrid to work on his plans with Bello.

  “Ventus,” Mythia muttered as they stormed through the giant training cavern toward the exit. Hundreds of soldiers remained practicing, the sound of clashing metal hitting their ears. “I want to trade places with you.”

  Ventus slowed her pace and glanced over at Mythia. “I figured you would. But how will we pull it off?”

  “We’re around the same height. If I’m in the full soldier gear, and you’re disguised as a knight… who could possibly know the difference? We can switch once you’ve gone through most of the tournament.” Ventus grinned at the idea. They reached the recruit’s house and stopped at the door.

  “You know, I thought you had forgotten about me,” Ventus said, casually tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

  “I did for a moment,” Mythia admitted. “I forgot everything, actually. But my memories are returning… slowly.”

  Ventus looked at her with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now. Now that I remember what I’m here for.”

  “Good,” Ventus smiled. “Make sure to get a good night’s sleep. We’re only two days away from the tournament, and you can bet the next couple of days will be a living hell for you.”

  ◆◆◆

  The cell door closed with an echoing bang and a puff of dust. The Doctrine and Titus were tied tightly with their arms behind their backs to two separate pillars within the crude, makeshift jail, which was thrown together with iron bars and locks, right outside in the center square of south Fenniks. The beady eyes of the towering marble phoenix watched them in the moonlight, next to the strangest throne they had ever laid eyes on, lit up by the crescent moon.

  A ridiculously huge chair with torn silk fabric that stood on layers of overlapping gray stone sat empty. A pile of bones lay strewn across the floor, some being gnawed away by giant brown rats. The white stoned buildings, once uniformed in perfectly straight rows, were now strewn in chaos. Thatched roofs had been blown away; mud splattered across the once pastel colors of the city. The fields were left unkempt and the smell of rotting harvest infiltrated throughout the misty night. Those marked with the phoenix were not known for bravery; whoever remained in Fenniks remained well hidden in their homes.

  “Could be worse,” Titus peeked over at the Doctrine through his dark hair, which hung loosely down his face covered in cuts and dirt. The bounty hunters stripped them of their tunics, carelessly bidding for them amongst themselves. Titus�
�s bare muscular arms bulged behind him as he tried relentlessly to pull free.

  The Doctrine laughed weakly, wincing in pain. “I suppose we could be dead. As long as we’re still alive, there’s hope of escaping.”

  Titus glanced over at the bounty hunters who were meant to be keeping watch. They were so deeply engrossed in their bottle of mead they were hardly paying attention. He glared at the one bounty hunter who won both of their tunics, the two shirts overlapping each other bulkily over his chainmail. “I think it’s time we come up with a plan, don’t you?” He smiled his full toothed smile.

  “My mind hasn’t been idle, Titus,” the Doctrine struggled to peer at his friend. The ropes cut so deep in his wrists his skin was bleeding and bruised. His bare chest glistened with sweat. “Whoever sits upon that throne must be the chosen leader of the bounty hunters. I’m sure he will be the biggest and the stupidest of them all. And another thing,” the Doctrine’s face broke out into a smile. “A mind so idle would most likely be bored.” He looked meaningfully over at his friend.

  Titus’s grin widened. “And you think it’s our job to entertain him, don’t you?”

  “I think it’s your job, Titus. It’s my job to get into the Archives and find the manuscript.” He glanced over at the huge building that held all the manuscripts and books ever written. The building that was once his favorite place to visit as a child, now held their saving grace… if only Titus can hold the bounty hunter’s attention long enough.

  ◆◆◆

  The fire crackled, its warmth stretching across the large chambers. The prince sat up in his bed, the white curtains hanging around him, his pillows covered in silk cases. Surrounded by excess and luxury, with enough wood to keep his fire going for a year, and yet, a chill sat deep within his heart. He watched the flames from across the room, ran his hand along the satin sheets, like ivory skin.