The qualities of the white stone meant that the walls could be built tall, but also that they could be thin, so thin that reliefs carved in the surface were illuminated by sunlight. To walk from the harbor to the throne room was an opportunity to see the entire history of the island displayed in intricately carved images, in which each kind was shown in its greatest glory.
The Blessed returned from their trading journeys with gifts and tribute from other cities. All was carried up that long road and presented to the king in the throne room. The gifts were then stored in the treasury, which occupied the top floor of the large central tower. The walls of the treasury had thirteen large windows, which were not truly openings. In those spaces, the stone had been carved so thinly that the sunlight pierced it and shone on the hoard piled in the room.
There were coins from every society, gold and silver and bronze. There were cups and chalices, some studded with gems, buckles and brooches and pins. There were loose gems and crystals, some with fire in their depths. There were stones set in jewelry, crowns and bracelets, necklaces and rings. And there were pearls, the glory of the seas, in all their various hues and shapes and sizes. It was said that it took a year and a day for Evenor’s clerks to inventory all the contents of that room, and more was added all the time. He ornamented his palace with gems and draped his queens in jewels. He shared tribute with his commanders and presented gems to his advisors, so that the leaders of each kind of the Blessed were adorned in ways that enhanced their beauty.
It is not known how long this realm prospered, because the exact date that the magick came to the island is uncertain. Perhaps it came with tribute, a spark tucked into a gem, a curse engraved on a sword, a spell entangled in a string of pearls. But a shadow came to the island and it touched the heart of Evenor first.
The magick began simply. It made Evenor’s voice a little sharper when he was disappointed, then over time honed his words so they cut deeply enough to draw blood. He stepped onto the path of doubting his fellows and trust eluded him. First, he wondered if he had been told the entirety of the truth—and because he showed displeasure so readily, some of the truth was hidden from him by those who feared his reactions. From that, he came to believe others conspired against him. It was an easy progression to fear that his luck was turning, that he had been betrayed, and thence to the conviction that his entire court was in league against him. The blessings offered to the gods diminished until they were forgotten entirely, then the gods did not reply to his queries. Evenor became bitter and angry, unpredictable and fearsome to those who had loved him. He remained in his chambers or locked himself in the treasury to review the inventory there.
By accident or design—one can never be certain with magick—that was when the Envoy arrived and brought the gem of the hoard to the Isle of the Blessed.
Rhys was first to arrive at the parking lot that evening, bristling with impatience. He was glad to see his fellow Pyr pull in behind him.
Hadrian inhaled deeply and seemed to shimmer as he came to stand beside Rhys. “There won’t be much snow tonight,” he predicted as flurries spun out of the sky toward him.
Of course, the falling snowflakes were attracted to Hadrian, who was an ice dragon. They clung to his auburn hair as if they couldn’t resist him and he smiled as he lifted a hand, watching the snowflakes fall on his palm. They melted and Rhys thought he heard a sigh of contentment from each one, as if it had found home.
Alasdair got out of his rental truck and grimaced. “I hate driving on the wrong side of the road,” he muttered, just as he always did. His eyes glinted as he surveyed his fellows and he obviously tried to lighten the mood. “I thought one of you would be brave enough to ride with me.”
“You’re better off-roading than on the interstate,” Arach teased.
“Avoiding sheep is his gift,” Hadrian added.
“Never mind city traffic,” Arach added. “I’ll never ride with you there again.”
“It’s a nightmare for me,” Alasdair admitted and they laughed a little together. Rhys knew they were trying to ease his concerns by making easy conversation. He might have joined in the spirit of it all, but he was too tense.
Drake arrived and shook hands with them, and Balthasar shared what he’d noticed about the house. It looked abandoned, but he’d smelled Pyr when he walked by and there was a red glow of magick, too. Hadrian had learned that it was a rental property and Arach that a woman had rented it just days before. Alasdair hadn’t been able to confirm who had moved in, only that there hadn’t been any moving trucks. There was said to be a dark sedan parked in the garage.
It was precious little information and Rhys resented the delay of a day to gather it.
“We need to be ready for anything,” he said. “There might be a portal there.” The other Pyr nodded agreement and he felt them bracing themselves for battle.
“How is she?” Drake asked and Rhys held out his hand, showing the steady flicker of the firestorm.
“Then let’s do this thing already,” Balthasar said.
In that moment, the light of the firestorm went out. In the darkness of that parking lot, none of the Pyr could miss the change. It didn’t light again. It no longer hummed in Rhys’ veins, filling him with urgency and need.
It was gone and he shivered in the darkness, even as he knew what it meant.
Rhys didn’t waste time on words. He leapt into the sky, shifting shape in a brilliant shimmer of blue, and flew directly to the house. His fellow Pyr were right behind him: he could feel their sense of purpose and hear the beat of their wings.
He only hoped they didn’t arrive too late.
In the basement, Lila continued to recall the story. She felt an increased simmer in her veins and dared to hope that meant salvation was finally on the way. When her desire sparked, she knew for certain.
Rhys was coming to help her, and somehow, she had to ensure they both escaped.
He might not anticipate the Dark Queen’s presence. Lila studied the queen through her lashes, noting that Maeve was only a shadow of her former self. Embron must have claimed her magick, maybe surrendered just an increment to her. She was rationing what she commanded, expending magick on the curse to keep Lila silent, even at the expense of her own youthful appearance.
Maybe Lila could work with that. She let a measure of charm slide into her thoughts, hoping to lull the pair into complacency, and refused to think of Rhys.
The Envoy was not one of the Blessed who resided on the island, and so he should not have been permitted to set foot on the island. But when his ship arrived and he stepped onto the dock, his red cloak flicking in the breeze, those guards who should have halted his progress found they could not move. They might as well have been struck to stone.
Evenor witnessed this failure from the high tower of his palace: he raged down to the harbor to set matters to rights. He was convinced that his sentries had willfully chosen to defy his orders, and the red glow in the air seemed only to feed his suspicions. He stormed through the city to the harbor, where the Envoy awaited him with a smile.
The Envoy explained that he was immortal but had been born of a union between two of his kind. He was not a god and he was not a man. He was not one of the Blessed. He was his own kind, one who called themselves the Fae, immortal yet rooted in the earth, and that was why he believed he belonged on the island. Indeed, he believed his rightful place was at the side of Evenor, for he could teach him so much. He had a talent for making his desires come to fruition which he called magick. He indicated the stonestruck guards as proof of his skills.
The Envoy also brought Evenor a gift, a sphere of amber unlike any gem Evenor (or even his clerks) had ever seen before. It was large and filled with flecks, like much of the other amber in the treasury, but this specimen had snared two creatures in its formation. A spider was in the act of killing a wasp, both of them trapped for all time in the heart of the sphere. It was both fascinating and horrifying to look upon the moment when two preda
tors battled for supremacy. When Evenor gazed deeply into the globe, he spied a swirl of red light circling the pair. The stone was cold, always cold, yet it fascinated Evenor. He caught glimpses of a red light where the heart of each creature should have beat, and sought always to see it again.
The Envoy called it the gem of the hoard and said that red light was the magick that it commanded. He confessed to Evenor that it was his skill with magick that made his dreams come true. He offered to teach Evenor what he knew, the better to make Evenor the greatest and richest ruler in all the world, in exchange for a place at his court.
Evenor was intrigued. He welcomed the Envoy as his guest and advisor, and the trouble in his court began in earnest.
In the days of the Isle of the Blessed, my kind, the selkies, dominated the north end of the island. We were fishermen and sailors, but also weavers and knitters. The knots we made remained tied forever, giving value to both our nets and our sweaters. We harvested mollusks from the seabed as well as pearls. We collected coral and we dried seaweed in the sun. We gathered shells and pebbles and composed songs that carried the rhythm of the sea.
We found magick in the sea, a gentle magick of encouragement, one that ebbs and flows. We were the ones who put an echo of the ocean’s waves in every seashell. We were the ones who learned to seed pearls. We were the ones who saved drowning sailors, or gave sweet dreams to those we could not save. It was said that the oldest among us could whistle up a wind or summon a storm. It was known that one or two of our kind, in such close union with the god of the seas, could turn away a storm. We slipped into the sea often, returning to shore to bear our young, to make merry, to take a reprieve.
Our closest neighbors and allies were the mer-people, whose beauty remains legendary and whose loss we still mourn. They preferred to stay mostly in the water, and loved the depths of the seas. We took their tribute to Evenor for them, and conveyed their goods for trade. We polished their pearls and taught them our songs, and the bonds between our kinds were strong. Our land was ruled by the oldest son of Evenor, Nereus, who was a selkie himself. His younger brother, Arcado, was a merman and ruled the mer-people, our neighbors. The sons of Evenor had been dismissed from the court of their father for petty misunderstandings, but if they had suspicions of greater trouble, they shared them only with each other. We believed all was well in the capital.
In those days, there was a great bell hung in the harbor, gracing the entry to the city from the docks. It was only rung to call the Blessed to the city for council with Evenor, and when it was sounded, it could be heard from one end of the isle to the other. It rang and we went, as bidden, to find this Envoy at the right hand of Evenor, commanding his fleet, whispering in his ear. Evenor kept the gem of the hoard grasped in his hand, hiding it from our view, but the red glow that emanated from it crept between his fingers. Nereus and Arcado were silent but we knew them to be troubled.
Evenor told us that the Isle of the Blessed would be attacked by mortal men, that our former trading partners had all become our enemies. He told us to prepare for war. He commanded my kind and the mer-people to show favor to our ships and destroy those of the men who came to attack. I remember how the Envoy smiled, so pleased with the words of Evenor that he couldn’t hide his reaction. Someone asked about advice from the gods, but Evenor had locked the oracle in his high tower. The Envoy had warned against false prophecies, reminding Evenor that we were different and thus, required to defend ourselves from all. Evenor believed this, for he thought the gods no longer favored his kingdom.
A shiver slipped through the crowd at the Envoy’s declaration. The mermaids had friends among mortal men, sailors who had become favorites by bringing gifts of mirrors and combs. Shifters of all forms were half human themselves and reluctant to conspire against those they saw as kin. Evenor would not listen. He said the die was cast. He retreated to his palace with the Envoy, leaving us to fight the battle he had begun.
Over time, it became clear that he had insulted our trading partners. He had cheated and he had lied. He had deceived those who trusted him, and this war, was their vengeance upon Evenor.
The war came, just as we had been warned, but it was more brutal than any could have envisioned. The seas turned as dark as wine with shed blood, then the mortals stormed the harbor. The air glowed red with magick as they took the palace and Evenor was dragged from his throne to be slaughtered before all.
The savagery of his death was shocking, but the Envoy laughed.
The mortals were filled with a bloodlust that couldn’t be satisfied, turning on each other once most of the palace guards had been slaughtered. The streets ran with blood as the invaders cried for the treasury to be opened to them. The fine white stone of the palace was stained red, and the tower of the oracle crumbled to dust, falling in on itself. The air was red with the fury of magick.
Just when the survivors thought nothing could go more wrong, the Old Man of the Seas rose from the depths in fury. He pounded his trident upon the ground, sending the seas into a frenzy and making the earth quake. He roared and he bellowed, outraged that war had come to the isle he had created, furious that Evenor had so betrayed his divine trust.
The earthquakes made the ocean boil and the hot fumes from the fissures opened in the sea floor made birds fall out of the sky. Fish were cast onto the shore in great quantities and left dying as the island heaved. The Old Man of the Seas strode into the courtyard of the palace and lifted the corpse of Evenor into his embrace. It was said that he wept for the loss of his only son.
The Envoy appeared then atop the tower of the treasury, holding the gem of the hoard high, and challenged the Old Man of the Seas. The storm crackled and snapped, and they say lightning fell into the stone. It was said to have filled with red light so brilliant that all had to close their eyes against its brightness. It was said to pulse with fire and drive the attackers to madness. It was said that many who looked upon it in that moment were blind forever after.
The great god seized the gem of the hoard, even as a bolt of red magic emanated from it and struck him. The Envoy was said to have smiled as the great god stumbled in shock. The divine scream of anguish echoed through all the world as the gem burned brilliant red and hot. The Old Man of the Seas dropped the gem and it fell into the sea. He dove back beneath the waves, and all assumed he pursued the magnificent gem. He took the corpse of Evenor, abandoning his trident to hold his son.
Nereus, leader of our kind and the eldest son of Evenor, claimed the trident for his own. The Envoy snatched after the gem, but it was too late: the sea boiled where it had splashed into the water. Nereus silenced the Envoy forever with one blow of the trident, a fitting return for his treachery.
With Evenor and the Envoy dead, with the gem of the hoard and the Old Man of the Seas vanished beneath the waves, the sea stilled. The air cleared. The earth fell quiet. The red haze of furious magick was extinguished, leaving both mortals and Blessed looking about themselves in wonder and shame.
It was too late, though, for the Isle of the Blessed. The island began to sink that very day, like a ship taking on water, and nothing halted its progress. Nereus summoned scholars from all over the Isle and even from the world of men, but the slow sinking could not be stopped. It took a year and a day for the tallest remaining tower of the palace to disappear beneath the waves, and within a decade, even the sharpest-eyed sailor couldn’t spot the ruins any longer. The island sank and kept sinking, all the way to the bottom of the sea.
The gem of the hoard had done its worst and the Isle of the Blessed was lost forever. It survived solely in the dreams of men, and the memories of the Blessed who survived.
“But where was the gem of the hoard?” Maeve demanded.
“Lost on the bottom of the sea,” Lila thought and shrugged. “The great god may have it.”
“No,” Embron said. “No.” He stood up and paced. “It ended up in my twin brother’s hoard, hidden even from me.” He leaned closer, emanating malice. “I want to
know every creature who touched it, every one who possessed it. I mean to retrieve every shred of magick it shed on its route, as well as claim the stone itself.”
“I don’t know,” Lila admitted, although she noticed the flash of Maeve’s eyes. What did the Dark Queen know?
“That’s not all of the truth,” the man growled. He lit another match, sparing Lila a smile as it flared. “But we know how to prompt your memory.” His voice was low with threat and she began to scream in her thoughts even before he tossed the burning match into the copper bowl, even before she felt as if she’d been set afire.
This time, he didn’t extinguish the flame. This time, he let it burn until Lila knew she couldn’t bear anymore. She had nothing more to tell him, though, nothing she could confess. She heard the crackle of her skin burning and there was nothing she could do to save herself. The world dimmed around her as her terror rose.
Time passed in a blur of torment, of the fire being lit and then extinguished, of more questions she could not answer, more demands, then a match being struck again. It was not long before Lila realized she would die in this dry basement room and no one would ever know the truth.
It was many hours before she surrendered to the pain.
Embron planned it that way.
The house was dark. The neighboring houses were dark. There was a stillness in the air that fed Rhys’ sense of foreboding, but he couldn’t have stayed away from Lila’s prison to save his life.
Dragon's Heart (The DragonFate Novels Book 3) Page 8
