Wynter Reign

by Emmy R Bennett

  “We’re almost there,” Cory calls, “keep moving.” His pace is much slower carrying Blair. Zak, who is carrying Chad, isn’t far behind. Thom helps his brother waddle as fast as possible towards the little house.

  I, along with Arryn, run as fast as we can behind them.

  The wolves howl again this time, appearing closer. “They’re gaining on us,” Arryn says. She, too, pulls her arrow.

  A ball of light buzzes past us, zooming in the direction we’re running away from.

  “It’s Isalora,” I say.

  “Get the others to the house. I’ve got this,” she says.

  “Keep moving, don’t stop,” I yell to Arryn. I see glowing red eyes peep from the dark shaded trees beside the riverbank.

  One large white wolf descends, and I release my arrow, hoping this animal isn’t my sister. I don’t wait to find out and keep running behind Arryn. “Move, move, move,” I scream. “The wolves are after us now, too.” That means the Shadow Walkers are not far behind.

  A yelp of pain echoes behind us, but I don’t stop and find out why, keeping my pace. It buys us time as we skate through the trees along the shoreline of the river, getting closer to the cottage. It’s a few yards away. Almost there.

  Something grabs me from behind, and my vision goes black.

  Chapter 31

  Cory Storm

  The Past:

  The Cottage at Storm River Manor

  As time passes through the evening, I become more worried. “Did you find her?” I ask, as the team walks through the bedroom door where I kneel beside my mother Blair, lying on one of the guest beds. Chad lies adjacent from us, and I can see him stir a bit.

  Thom bows his head with his hat in front of his chest, and Dom shakes his, taking off his cap. Dom’s wounds have mended a bit with salve that Isalora made earlier. She’s no healer, but she can at least administer some form of fixed remedy that can suffice for the time being. His gashes were not as bad as we first thought, thankfully, and Isalora was able to stitch him back together.

  Zak steps forward, saying, “We found these”—he holds up Rory’s quiver set and bow—"near the shore a few yards from the cottage. She was taken not too far from here.”

  “Akira can’t track her scent, either,” Arryn says. “There was so much blood—”

  I stand, saying, “She’s not dead! How can you say that? I refuse to believe it was hers. “We have to keep looking.” I press my hands to my head against the pressure of thoughts rolling around my mind. How could I not have seen this coming? My stare burns with venom, as I confront Arryn. “We owe her that. She’s our friend…and ticket home. Without her, we’re trapped. There’s no getting back to the library now. Moyer will have the grounds heavily guarded,” I say, raising my voice. “We have to find her.”

  I stand here, looking at Chad and my mother lying unconscious. My family is injured. “I feel we have failed them. Failed the Storms, failed our home of Ladorielle. How are we to find the others and get Redmae back now?”

  “You mustn’t be hard on yourself. We will keep searching,” Arryn assures me. “How are they?” Akira purrs, as she strokes the cat’s head.

  Isalora comes in from the hall with a rag in her hand. “Their fevers are down,” she begins, “and they’re finally regenerating, but it will take hours before they’re to full health. They both have been poisoned with Iknes Shaw toxins. Blair is worse off than Chad. I fear she won’t make it.”

  I glare at this magical, all-knowing ghost that has managed to fool us into thinking we could pull this off flawlessly. “She has to,” I voice. “She has vampire blood running through her veins. She can fight this.”

  “Yes, but like you and your brother, Cole, Blair was born, not bitten. Her human side is still vulnerable,” Isalora says.

  “And Chad?” Dom asks.

  “He was bitten. Much different. When vampires bite, there is an antibody released into the victims.”

  “Meaning?” Dom’s expression looks confused.

  “Meaning, they have complete control as to whether or not to kill and eat their prey.”

  “As opposed to someone who’s born. That doesn’t make any sense,” he argues.

  “This antibody will either kill you or heal you, completing the transformation into a new immortal, blood-sucking vampire. Most of the time, a victim must be injured, or sick for the healing venom to work the change.” Isalora huffs, as though annoyed by our species. “Most of the time, a vampire prefers a healthy dose of blood, anyway. If you’re bitten, you lose your human side.”

  She steps closer to me. “It isn’t over, Cory. The Super Blue Blood Moon hasn’t come yet. We have time. What we don’t have time for is not retrieving Redmae. Allow them to heal. You will see. They will bounce back, stronger than ever.”

  “But there isn’t any more time. The moon rises tomorrow night,” I say. My anger, worry, and fear begin to unfold.

  “The first full moon in this month, yes. We will get Redmae out, with or without Rory.” Isalora seems so sure of herself.

  I kneel back down and move the random strands of hair plastered to my mother’s forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I look up at my team then stare Isalora down, trying hard not to show my anger towards her. I feel it’s her fault, as she wasn’t pressing enough about the urgency. She should have scouted the area, given us more warning. She should have known about Blair and Chad being tortured in the chambers below the manor.

  Thom breaks my thoughts. “What can we do?”

  “Nothing. All we can do is wait,” Isalora says, adjusting the warm cloth on Blair’s head.

  “Have you had any luck on the location spell? You’re a ghost. You would think that would be a great advantage in locating Rory.” My tone is cold. I’m trying hard to control my anger.

  Arryn touches my shoulder lightly, and it releases some of my tension. I want to blame someone, but the one I should blame is myself. I should have been more cautious. “I can’t even see her thoughts, Isalora.”

  “Which tells me Moyer has her under a dream stamp.”

  Blair stirs. I can see her necklace glow the ruby red it’s supposed to. She looks like she’s regaining some strength. I wish it protected her like the necklace Wynter wears. At least then, she would have had safety from Moyer’s wrath. The valiancium cuff that I released from her hours ago is back on her ankle. Chad has one about his, too.

  I growl in frustration. “We can’t even take these wretched things off, so they can heal faster.”

  The room quiets and the anxiety rises. “I’m going to see about that location spell you asked about,” Isalora says. “It’s different than scrying with a pendant. It’s more like a potion fused together with ingredients from Ladorielle. I’ll check to see if it’s ready.” Isalora pops out of sight.

  “I should go to her,” I say. “She knows I blame her for this.”

  “No, you should stay here and allow the both of you to cool off. Isalora may be a ghost, but she’s still powerful. I would say more so dead than when she was alive. I’ll go talk to her.” Arryn walks out of the bedroom, and a few seconds later, I hear her say, “No, Akira, stay. Guard the children and others.”

  The animal lets out an unpleasant grunt, and I begin to hear the cat purr.

  I get up and peer around the corner, observing the children playing video games, unaffected by what us adults are discussing. They’re really into it. A couple times, I can hear them grumble about losing the battle on the TV screen.

  Now that Marc has cleaned up along with Anja, and the other boy who has not yet spoken a word—we still don’t know his name –I can clearly see both Marc and Anja have sandy-blond hair. His eyes are green while Anja’s are blue, and sparkle bright, cluing me in that they both might be Pine Willow Valley elves. The smaller boy has dark brown hair and brown eyes, not at all looking like any species I’ve seen on Ladorielle. Perhaps, he’s a mere human, and Moyer kidnapped him somewhere here on earth. He has to be. If not for my
well-fed stomach, it would be hard to control the urges to kill him right here. My human side has a little more control. I worry when Chad comes to, he’ll have much less reserve and want to sink his teeth into anything that pumps blood.

  I step toward the sofa and sit, observing the children, waiting to see how much damage Moyer has done, hoping it will help me to understand their pain. Dom and Thom follow me while Zak stays in the room with my mother and uncle.

  The small boy is calm and appears happy, but I cannot read his thoughts, which is rather odd, considering I can read just about anyone’s. Marc notices my lingering stare and sits next to me. “Anja and I want to thank you for bringing us out of that horrible place.”

  “How are the two smaller children doing?” I ask. “Has the little one said anything to either of you, yet?”

  Marc shrugs. “I’m sure he will at some point. I watched Moyer do a number on him earlier. She drained some essence from his soul. It doesn’t appear to have affected him as much as it does with her older subjects.”

  “How do you know this? What do you mean?”

  “Cory, I was down in that basement a long time. Lived there for who knows how long. I carved lines with my nail in the dirt to keep track of what day it was.”

  “How many days?” Do I really want to know the answer? I hear his thoughts before he speaks.

  “A year,” Marc says. “It could have been more. There were times when I was told by other caged children I was out for days.”

  “Marc, look!” Anja cries, “I beat the game.”

  He smiles. “You can’t beat the game, silly. You beat that level. Now, you can go onto the next.”

  “Chad appears to be in better shape than Blair,” Marc says.

  I’m surprised he noticed. Apparently, we didn’t do a well enough job in shielding them from peeking in the bedroom.

  He notices my surprised look, saying, “Don’t worry. The other two children haven’t paid much attention. Although they may know more than we think. Never underestimate a kid.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? They shouldn’t be seeing any of the horror they’ve witnessed,” I snap.

  “What I mean is I snuck a peek while the little ones were occupied. I’m old enough to know what’s happening here.”

  I ignore his comment. He’s a kid. He doesn’t need to get involved. “They will pull through,” I say. “I’m sure of it.” Marc doesn’t look convinced, but I would like to have hope they will. They have to. They are immortal, for Ladorielle’s sake.

  “I understand you and Anja are siblings.” I nod toward the other child, adding, “The boy I can clearly tell is human. He isn’t from Ladorielle.” My throat burns, as I realize my need for thirst is gaining a demand for a taste of blood.

  I press my lips tight, still fuming from the foiled events that took place hours ago. “You know they cannot stay here, as well as yourself. It isn’t safe.”

  “Don’t worry, Cory. We will keep you and the other carnivorous beings under this roof well fed. There will be no need to take any innocents under my watch,” Isalora says, popping behind us on the couch.

  Again, we jump from her unexpected presence. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but the others huff in annoyance. I glance to Arryn as she steps into the family room.

  Isalora ignores the irritated drama from the others.

  It eases the stress from my shoulders a bit knowing these children will not be a liability and gone soon. I don’t want any of these kids getting hurt.

  Zak comes from the bedroom. “Cory, your mother is coming to.”

  We race to the bedroom, and I see my mother stir, saying, “Water.” She opens her eyes. Isalora pops into the bedroom. Ironically, my group was prepared, and we didn’t jump this time.

  Zak immediately grabs the pitcher on the table and pours a glass. She drinks it as though she hasn’t had a drop in days.

  “That’s better,” she says, sighing. Lying back down, she takes in a deep breath. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not long. You should rest. Moyer has given you a dose of Iknes Shaw poison, “ I say.

  “Is that all?” she tries to laugh but ends up coughing instead.

  “You need to rest,” I press.

  She smiles. “Rest is for the weary.” She closes her eyes. There’s a long pause before she opens them and speaks again. “I need to tell you something. Something very important.”

  Chapter 32

  Wynter Storm

  Present Day:

  Somewhere on Dragonscale Island

  “What do you mean the first full moon has begun?" I ask Aunt Fran. "Are you saying Sarmira has gained greater power?” I’m angry. I can feel the anxiety grow within my core. “Does this mean we failed?”

  “No, we haven’t failed," she answers. "It means we need to hide you somewhere, where no one will find you. I’m sure my father, Ian, your grandfather, will know what to do.”

  “You yourself said I need Redmae to begin the second trial.”

  “Yes, and we will still need her, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other preparations while waiting.”

  “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

  “I must prepare to go to the gates and hold off the invasion from other worlds. Sarmira will try to enter this world now that the first full moon has started on Earth. But I’m not leaving you alone. We will wait for your dad or someone in his Company to aid you to safety.”

  “What about Namari?”

  “He can’t travel these confined cavern walls. When we reach the valley at the end of this passageway, you can call to him.”

  She looks at my necklace. “We won’t know if the fusing gel worked until darkness comes for you. The saying goes, no news is good news.” She adds, “For now, we stick together.”

  “That’s comforting,” I say. I feel claustrophobic, pacing through the tunnel. Sounds from above thud the ground with movement. The walls of the cave crumble with fallen dirt and rock. I fear that this passageway will not hold from the massive tremors. Faint screams are heard, along with the clanging sounds of swords. People cry in agony, and men shout as they fight. After a few more minutes of walking, the noises fade away. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve distanced ourselves from the hellacious sounds of death and destruction, or if it’s because the battle’s over.

  My head is consumed with visions of souls passing as death takes them. “Aunt Fran, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “So much death.” I try to hold back the sadness. I need to keep it at bay. If I allow my emotions to take me now, then evil has won. I do my best to push the visions out of my mind. The good news is I haven’t seen the passing of Dad, which leaves me feeling relieved.

  We walk for what seems like hours before we come to a light in the distance. Ocean waves echo off the tunnel walls, giving me a sense of hope. The line of people in front of us becomes stagnant and slow.

  “We’re coming to the end of the cave,” my aunt says.

  It isn’t until we come out upon the edge of the underpass that I realize it juts out of the side of a cliff. A rolled-out bamboo ladder drapes over the edge with people descending to a ravine below. There are trees everywhere, and the sun shows bright. “How is it possible? We haven’t left the island, have we?”

  “No,” my aunt says aloud. “This is the back side of Ashengale Mountain. The ocean is beyond those trees.” She points in that direction. “It’s the only side that remains green with life. The dragons have protected it for centuries.”

  “What do we do when we get to the bottom?” I ask, as I watch two people at a time climb down the bamboo ladder tied with rope. “Why can’t they fly down…shift?”

  “Not all these people are shifters, my dear niece. Many of them come from different factions. Like I said before when you first arrived yesterday, many are refugees cast out from past wars, their homes were destroyed, and they have nowhere else to go.”

  A lou
d rumble rolls through the hollow dark tunnel, and I turn around to see we’re the last of the people that escaped through the door shaft before the fireball blasted the other entrance. Residual smoke puffs.

  In the far, dark distance, a pair of eyes emerge from the dust cloud within the cave passage. It paces towards us, slowly.

  I see Fran’s face light up. “Garrick! Hey, there. Let me help you,” she says.

  He holds over his shoulder an injured soldier. “They’re all gone,” he mumbles. His breath is heavy. “The invaders have been defeated, but they will be back, rest assured.” He takes his eyes off my aunt and looks up at me. “She didn’t shift, did she?”

  “No,” my aunt confirms. “Can you fly him down to the ravine below?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you heal him first, Wynter?” Garrick asks.

  “Definitely.” My hand hovers over the man’s burned chest, and it clears up, leaving only a scar.

  “What is your name, soldier?” I ask.

  “I’m Thane.”

  “Well, Thane, thank you for all you do in helping to defend our kingdom and homes. Can you walk?”

  “I think so,” Thane replies. “The pain has subsided.”

  “We could use your help with these folks getting down to the valley below,” my aunt says. “Do you think you’re up to it?”

  “Now that Wynter has healed me, yes, My Lady,” Thane says, appearing to bounce back with a little more energy than when he arrived.

  “You’re not a dragon shifter, are you?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “No,” he says, as he begins to help some of the other folk take the first step onto the bamboo ladder cascading over the mountain ledge. “I’m a Dryad.”

  It’s then I take notice of his pointed ears and the texture of his arms. His skin looks rough like tree bark, but yet when I healed him, he felt smooth to the touch. “A Dryad?”

  Garrick gives a wink, and I see Aunt Fran smile. “I didn’t realize Dryads came this far west.” I stand back and watch the two of them carefully help others, as the last of what remains of the Ashengale community line up to descend down the ladder.