A Liar in Paradise

by M H Woodscourt

  19

  Nothing Left

  I was halfway through my gerani bunch when an icy blast of air shot through the cavern, blowing out the torches and sending a layer of frost crackling up the rock walls. I jumped to my feet as the chill seeped beneath my clothes.

  Several of my companions hissed. With Liitae's light still focused on Chasym, the rest of the cave was shrouded in shadow. But one shadow stood out. A shiver colder than the frosty walls ran up my spine as I stared at the green eyes in the dark silhouette. Those eyes gazed back at me, filling me with terror. It was the Seer, but this time he'd come in person. Somehow, I simply knew it.

  Jenen darted to stand before me, his claws raised against the shadow. Lon joined him.

  A cold laugh erupted from the darkness and, like a heavy mist, the layer of shadow folded away from him, and the Seer stood before us, his body glowing. He looked the same as before; tall, draped in maroon robes, with long vine green hair and sea-foam eyes boring holes wherever they peered.

  “You think your petty abilities can withstand mine?” he asked.

  “Sounds like he admitted his are petty, too,” Chasym drawled. He sat up. Sasha was too busy gawking at the Seer to notice her patient's reckless behavior.

  I smirked. “That's what I heard, too.”

  The Seer's smile faltered and then his eyes rested on Chasym. “You don't know when to die.”

  The Reincarnate shrugged. “Sorry, living's a nasty habit I picked up once—can't seem to drop it.”

  The Seer chuckled. “You've always thought yourself very clever.”

  “I've always had your reassurances to back me up,” Chasym replied.

  “Delusional Broken Man know Shifty Cocky Man?” Crenen asked, sounding as confused as I felt.

  “We've met,” Chasym said, a strange smile on his lips.

  “Enough of this,” the Seer snapped. “I'm here to collect Vendaeva for my master, and you're wasting my time.”

  “You're really Vendaeva?” Sasha asked, her voice a whisper.

  I shrugged. “Like I know? They're the experts.”

  Crenen tapped his cheek. “We say he Vendaeva only to lure Delusional Broken Man here so we can fight him many times and finally capture and make our slave, yeah? Really not any Vendaeva at all.”

  “Somehow,” the Seer said, “I'm unconvinced.”

  A crackling sound came from the rock floor and cold rose like steam. The Seer’s eyes began to glow as they locked onto mine. I took a step forward. Panicking, I tried to stop myself, but my feet kept walking toward him.

  Lon grabbed my arm as I tried to push past him.

  “No, Key,” he whispered, and the Seer's working shattered. I scrambled behind Lon, trembling.

  “You leave me no choice.” The Seer flicked his hand, and the shadows flung themselves from the walls and shot toward us. They pounced on everyone, except me.

  Several shadows strangled Chasym, shoving him against the wall, pressing against his bleeding wound. Sasha slashed at the shadows with her claws, with no effect. I glanced around for Liitae and spotted the orb lying frozen on the ground. I don’t think so! I threw up my hand and, even through the bandage, my palm blazed, forcing the attacking shadows to flee. I raised my other hand and pointed it toward Lon, Veija, Crenen, and Jenen who struggled against their own shadowy assailants. The shadows fled back to their master.

  Gasping, Chasym leaned forward, his eyes flashing with dark amusement. “Looks like...like you were right, Seer—your abilities are pathetic.” His neck was red, and his hands clutched his stomach, but he laughed.

  The Seer scoffed. “Never fear, Chasym Verenvey. I'm not done yet.”

  Crenen let out a laugh, drawing everyone's attention. “Delusional Broken Man have to try much hard if even Strange Coward Boy easily deflect Weak Sissy Attacks.”

  I sighed. “So much for due credit.”

  The Seer reached up with a clawed hand and touched his temple. He closed his eyes. We stared—everyone but Crenen, who took that second to march forward and clonk the Seer upside the head.

  I snorted.

  “Stupid Dolt Head shouldn't close eyes like we not important!”

  The Seer opened his eyes. “Move.”

  Crenen flew sideways, slamming against the cave wall.

  Crenen jumped to his feet, claws raised. “You not throw us like unimportant either,” he spat, flexing his fingers for emphasis.

  The Seer turned from Crenen and met my gaze. “I have to hand it to you, Vendaeva. You and your comrades have fought bravely. But I've seen the future—something your dear Veija lost the ability to do long ago. Let me assure you: I do win.”

  I glanced at Veija, who hung her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. I scowled and stepped forward—this time of my own will. “I don't freaking care what you saw through your stupid crystal ball. Nobody but me writes my future.”

  The Seer burst into laughter, his entire body shaking. Finally, he gained control of himself, but his smirk remained. “Oh, you are amusing, Vendaeva. But then, I doubt if you were ever told the truth, so of course you're naïve. And why would you be told? You're only a tool, after all. A tool and a cover up. Merely something to hide the mistakes of your—”

  “That's enough, Haeon,” Chasym said, his voice low.

  I blinked, turning to view my injured rival. His eyes were yellow instead of green, and they blazed like a fire. He was half standing, ready to fight. I glanced at his half-bandaged torso. Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

  The Seer's smirk widened. “Half dead and still blathering on. Why try to hide the truth? He'll find out eventually.”

  “It's not your place.” Chasym slapped Sasha's hand away as she tried to push him back into bed.

  “Fine,” Haeon said with a shrug. “I really don't care. I have different plans for your Vendaeva.”

  Crenen had taken being ignored for as long as he could handle. With a snarl, he rushed forward and thrust his claws into Haeon's arm, but the Seer merely grabbed his other arm and twisted it, forcing the lighter man to slam against the ground. Crenen rose, jumping back to avoid being thrown again. He hissed. Spat on the ground. Lunged forward yet again.

  The Seer flicked his hand and a shadow shot forward, colliding with Crenen's claws. As shadow and man began to wrestle, Haeon stepped beyond their range and walked toward me, his eyes unfathomable, alluring.

  “Come, the master awaits,” he told me, though his lips didn't move. His words echoed in my head and cold seeped through the corners of my sight, draining me of my will to resist, or even to stand. I struggled to remain conscious. If he got me now, I might never wake up.

  “You are strong, but I will overpower you.” His voice lulled me into drowsiness.

  I watched through a haze as Jenen made a stand, and a shadow forced him aside. Veija went next, her eyes still haunted but her jaw set. Another shadow kept her from her target. Then it was just Lon, standing in front of me, tall and silent.

  “Sleep, child. When you wake, you will meet the master,” the pensive voice assured me.

  I wavered. Five shadows jumped on Lon. He knocked them away but more came, driving him back. I felt arms grab me, pulling me to the ground. My eyes collided with Sasha's. She kept a firm grip on my arm and spoke to me, but no sound came out. I tried to read her lips, but my vision blurred.

  “Pathetic. You haven't fought five minutes and already you are tired.” The voice was taunting now, but still somehow alluring. “Come now, rest. You haven't slept properly in days. You need to sleep.”

  I couldn't keep my eyes open. Even as Sasha shook my shoulders, screaming silently to get my attention; even as Chasym gripped my wrist and turned me to face him, talking quickly and alertly; even as several shadows fell upon them, prying them away. I couldn't fight any longer. As darkness drew spots against my vision, I slumped against the cold wall, a distant voice ringing in my mind.

  There was nothing I could do. I had no strength to fight. I
simply had nothing left.

  20

  Vendaeva

  “You can't be serious! Have you lost your senses completely?” the man shouted, grabbing the other man by the arm and turning him around. A heavy fog clung to the air, making it impossible to see their faces.

  ”Perhaps I have. But what else can I do? I'm open to suggestions, if you have them.”

  The first man sighed. “I know how you feel, but I doubt this will help.”

  “I know. But I've got to try something—and it must be my sacrifice. I'm at fault.”

  “No. I won't let you. I'll do something instead. I owe you that much.”

  The second man laughed. “Don't be foolish. You paid that debt long ago.”

  “Yes, but it never made anything better, did it? So, what's the point now?”

  “Hope, my friend. If that's all I can give to Paradise, it will be enough.”

  “False hope isn't hope,” the first man said. “Believe me when I say that your sacrifice will be in vain.”

  “I'm sorry, but I can't. I won't. Because...I want hope, too.”

  “Can you really go through with it? You'll have to live with the consequences.”

  “And that will enable me to do it.”

  My mind was a solid block of ice. As drifted from the haze of oblivion, I felt myself lying on something that moved rhythmically, up and down, up and down. I couldn't move my body.

  I forced my eyes open and gazed upward, into a gray sky. I couldn't turn my head, so I just stared overhead, watching my breath escape my lips in a puff of cloud that evaporated in the air. It was so cold, despite something heavy and warm on top of me—probably a fur.

  I tried to recall where I was—why I couldn't move—but my mind was too numb. I gave up, and instead focused on the sky. A snowflake appeared above, drifting and twirling like a feather dancing on the bitter wind. It landed on my forehead and melted into water that trickled down my face like a teardrop.

  Another snowflake fell, more trailing after it. Soon the sky was filled with waltzing snow drifting down from the clouds above.

  Sleep tugged at my consciousness, and I allowed it to drag me back to my dreams, too tired and cold to heed the urgent feeling clawing at the back of my mind. Whatever it was, the urgent feeling could wait. And even if it couldn't, it would anyway.

  “I hope he wakes up soon. I want to speak with him.”

  ”He is stirring now, Master,” a familiar voice said from somewhere nearby.

  “May I speak with him now?” the first voice asked. It was a young voice, gentle in its tone.

  “Let me speak with him first, and then I'll call you back in—if that is all right, my master?”

  I pried my eyelids open and blinked the blurriness away. Shadows flickered on the ceiling and I guessed a torch was lit somewhere to fend off the gloom.

  “Are you coherent yet?”

  I moaned as I attempted to sit up, and only managed to lift my head for a second.

  “The paralysis will finish wearing off soon, but then the pain will begin. I'd sit quietly and enjoy your numbness in the meantime.”

  “W-where...?”

  “You're in the Kirid lands now.”

  My mind rushed with the memories of the cave.

  “I've been captured?” I whispered.

  “Yes, you have.”

  My mind raced with questions, but one was more important than the rest. “Where are the others?”

  The Seer chuckled somewhere overhead. “You never need worry for them again.”

  Cold snared my heart. “What?”

  “My shadows finished them off before I brought you here. I couldn't have them begin some sort of quest to save you, now could I?”

  I listened to his tone, searching for any hint of a lie. If anyone should be able to tell a lie from the truth, it was me. But I found nothing but heartless fact: they were all dead. The numbness in my body was beginning to wear off and my limbs ached, but I didn’t care.

  “Now, Vendaeva. I want you to meet my master. Be polite or I will be forced to make your pitiful existence more pitiful.”

  I doubted if he could do much worse than he’d done already.

  The footsteps of the Seer faded as he walked away, and then I heard lighter footsteps pad toward me. A dark form appeared above my head, hovering. I squinted to see the face better, but it was too dark.

  “Did you come here through the Phudel?” the quiet voice asked.

  A thousand retorts flashed through my brain, each crueler than the last, but the numbness was giving way to tears. I turned my head away and shut my eyes tight, wanting everything to disappear and leave me alone.

  They died because of me.

  If not for my arrival, none of those people would have died—at least not this way. Sure, maybe they would’ve died of the Paradisaical disease instead, but at least then I wouldn't have known them. And it wouldn't hurt.

  What a selfish twit I was. The others had suffered worse pains than this. They'd lost important people, too. I really was a coward if I couldn't accept this pain.

  “I'm sorry,” the boy whispered. “I heard about your friends. Haeon said they died honorably.”

  I bit my lip. “You're Kirid, right?”

  The boy hesitated. “Yes.”

  “And Prince Crenen killed your father a few months ago, right?”

  A longer hesitation this time. “Yes.”

  “Then why are you sorry?”

  “Because I understand what it's like to lose someone you care about.” His voice was so gentle and sincere, it made me want to reach up and strangle him; to scream for him to shut up; anything to silence that pitying tone.

  “Go away,” I whispered.

  “You're stuck here, Kiido. Haeon won't let you leave, so, treat this like your home—if you want.”

  I wanted to laugh; a hard, bitter laugh that told him how naïve he was. But I hadn't the strength. “How can a prison be a home?”

  “Very well,” Kirid said. I heard him walking away.

  “Wait,” I said.

  The footsteps faltered.

  “Why did you call me Kiido? What does it mean?”

  “I've always liked the word,” Kirid said. “Get some more sleep, Kiido. Haeon won't let you grieve for very long.”

  When his footsteps were too far off to hear anymore, I faced the ceiling again, letting the tears come.

  “Let it all out,” I told myself. “Just...let it out.”

  For the next two days I slept, cried, slept, ate, cried, and worked on getting my body to move again. In that time, I didn't see Seer Haeon or the young Kirid. The only person I did see was a servant who quietly brought my food and then quietly left with the last meal's dishes.

  My prison was a stone room with a straw-stuffed mattress and dirty fur blankets. It was a tiny space, freezing cold and dank. At times I felt scared and wished for company. At other times I was angry and wanted to pummel something. And other times I felt numb, oblivious to anything around me.

  When Haeon finally appeared and told me to follow him I climbed from my bed and obeyed. He guided me down a dark passageway lit with feeble torches, and then turned down another. As we walked, the décor changed.

  The walls were still made of stone, but more torches lined the halls, and carpets ran along the center of the flagstone floor. It reminded me of a medieval castle. I wondered if that made me the heroic knight, captured by the dark lord. More than likely it made me the damsel in distress. I frowned. No one could come rescue me. Don’t think about it. I’d decided, in those two miserable days, that I wouldn't allow myself to feel guilty about their deaths. I couldn't afford to give up now and let Seer Haeon do as he pleased with my powers. Not unless I wanted them to have died in vain—and I would rather die than let that happen.

  While I'd once taken no side in this strange war in Paradise, I would rather take my chances with Crenen and his cronies. I would rather risk another betrayal from Lon. And I would rather discover the m
ysteries of Jenen and Chasym. Never mind that all the forces in this fantastical realm were against them, and therefore me. Now, even though they were dead, I would fight for them—and pretend to fight with them.

  Haeon pushed open a set of enormous double doors and led me into what could only be the throne room. I gazed at the ornate decoration of the chamber. The intricately carved stone dais and the plush carpet leading up to it. Several lit candelabra resting on tables positioned on either side of the carpeted path leading to the throne. And shrouded in darkness, the young Kirid sitting there, only his outline visible.

  “Before we step nearer,” Haeon said, turning his cold eyes on me, “be warned. You are about to realize a harsh truth.” His mouth twisted in a malicious smile. With that, he turned and walked toward the throne, magenta robes trailing behind him. I followed, taking his advice and bracing myself for whatever horror was about to unfold.

  As I neared the dais, something flew past me and I turned to find it. My eyes widened as I spotted Liitae hovering near a candelabrum, dancing around the flames, teasing them.

  “Liitae,” I called, feeling warmth spread through me. I recalled that Lon once said it couldn't die unless I did. Thank goodness for that.

  The orb bobbed up and down a few times and then raced toward me, nearly knocking me to the ground as it slammed into my hand. My palm throbbed dully, mostly healed. Liitae left my hand and circled around me, its center glowing more brightly than normal.

  “I'm happy to see you, too,” I told it, laughing. Somehow, it felt like the sun had finally risen after a long, nightmarish sleep.

  “He tracked Haeon's dragon all the way here,” Kirid said softly. “No matter how many times he tried, Haeon couldn't get the orb to stop following you.”

  I turned toward the boy master as he stepped from the shadowed dais. Impossible. I stared; breath caught somewhere in my throat.

  Kirid smiled, his gray eyes dancing. “Hello, Kiido. Or, should I say, my other half?”