Glancing around, Citrine saw they were halfway to their destination. The temple rose a few feet before them, and the tower appeared, threatening and impassible a few hilltops over. What had once been a peaceful city thriving with trade and life looked as if a handful of giants had stomped over it and then ran out to sea. The black flying creatures were gone, but rubble shifted and collapsed around the city. People continued to scream and flee while others cried out for help as they tried to find loved ones under the rubble.
Citrine’s lips trembled. This was chaos, and although she’d promised the Udi she would help them, first she had a responsibility to help the city of Sanga Sang. Tor Lir was right.
A high voice called out, quavering with fear. “Tor Lir?”
Citrine followed Tor Lir’s gaze and saw a female limping toward them. She had light hair in two braids, covered in dust. Two scabbards crossed her back, and her hand held one short sword, the blade crimson with blood. Her face was black with grime, but light eyes stared out, hopeful as she neared them. She glanced at Citrine, and a look of reverence came over her face.
Tor Lir held out his hands to the female, and Citrine waited for the slap of envy to come over her. But it never came. For some reason the other female did not make her angry, even though she embraced Tor Lir, leaning heavily on him for a moment. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. “I waited for you at the temple and then we heard shouts and screams. One of those terrible creatures came in, but the stone is solid. The friars are bringing people in to hide from the attack, and I came out to help guide them. I did not expect to see you here. Is this your companion? The one you spoke so highly about?”
Citrine was surprised to see a blush cover Tor Lir’s face as he angled his body toward her. “Aye. Lady Hava, meet Citrine. Citrine, this is my friend, Lady Hava. She is also my instructor, teaching me to use the blade.”
Lady Hava held out a hand, and Citrine found herself taking it, unsure what to do about such obvious admiration. “It is a pleasure.” Lady Hava smiled, her entire face lighting up. “I have long desired to meet you. You are strong and more beautiful in person. I’ve seen you a time or two at the market, but I was too frightened to approach without an introduction.”
Citrine let go of Hava’s hand, unsure how to respond. She glanced to Tor Lir for guidance, her skin prickling with discomfort. “I don’t know what to say. Most people are not pleased to meet me. I am unsure what lies Tor Lir is filling your head with.”
“I don’t lie,” Tor Lir said without warmth. His expression turned hard.
Hava’s smile never left her face. She glanced from Citrine to Tor Lir, and then her face changed. The smile faded, replaced with worry. “Do you know what’s happening?”
Tor Lir pointed to the tower. “Aye, there’s a beast in the tower which is trying to escape. You should stay inside while we go fight it.”
Hava lifted her sword. “I can fight. May I come with you?”
Tor Lir nodded before Citrine could disagree. She scowled, but a memory came to her mind of her journey in the Boundary Line Forest with Tor Lir. A fearless warrior, Agrim, and his tribe captured them. In retaliation, Citrine had Ava attack the tribes’ people, learning, too late, that Tor Lir had struck a bargain with the tribe, his goal to gain an army to fight against the Master of the Forest. Her words of protest died on her lips. Perhaps Tor Lir was right to include Lady Hava, although she was short and slim and quite beautiful, even under the grime. She eyed Tor Lir with almost the same expression of adoration she’d given Citrine. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Come with us, but promise to leave when the fighting gets too much. I don’t want you to stay in harm’s way longer than you need to.”
Citrine frowned. Tor Lir would never say such a caring thing to her. Eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms and followed Tor Lir and Hava past the temple.
Hava set a quick pace up the hill, speaking in a low gentle voice that easily carried to Citrine’s ears. Every now and then, Hava’s gaze went to the sky above, and she constantly wiped at her face and nose. She was strong, holding her grief within, ready to do what needed to be done before she gave in to dismay. Citrine respected her in that moment until she listened to the words Hava was saying and her heart gave way to dismay.
“It’s a terrible time for this to happen,” Hava said. “The harvest is now and with the festival coming up, we won’t be able to celebrate with all the work that needs to be done to repair the ruins. It seems the damage is heaviest up here, near the wealthier end of the city, but there’s no telling how many of those creatures are out there. If even one escaped and went to the port or the farmland, it’s more than enough to destroy the harvest and make winter difficult for us. Even with trade, there’s nothing that can bring back lost food, and I doubt the city of Ellsmore has the ability to provide enough. Sanga Sang pays its dues to Ellsmore, but still…and then there are the rich like my father, hoarding without need. I know he will not be generous when the time comes. If anything, he will try to capitalize on the doom of this city.”
“Is that so?” Tor Lir hummed, adding little thought to the conversation.
“Aye.” Hava paused and glanced at the sky. Seeing nothing, she went on. “The friars will do their best, but they are already overtaxed as it is. They have additional mouths to feed, mouths that were expected now that the Disciples of Ithar have returned and are staying there.”
“Returned?” Citrine asked, desperate for knowledge. “Do they come every year?”
“Aye,” Hava spoke quickly. “Around the harvest they come to join in the festivities. I think there is something else they are here for. They ask many questions. Regardless, the friars are secretive in their knowledge and study of the Four Worlds. I admit, I am curious. If I were still on speaking terms with my Father, I might use his name and study there with the disciples. They know so much, and their leader, the Storyteller—”
“Leader?” Citrine hissed, stopping in her tracks.
Tor Lir glanced back at her, his eyes warning her not to say more. Hava glanced at her, eager to share information, no suspicion in her eyes. “Aye. He’s not necessarily the leader, but he’s one of them, high up, I can tell. He travels often, and oh the stories he tells. You have to meet him.” Hava brought her hands together as if to clasp them before realizing she still held her sword. Sorrow swept the joy and wonder from her face. “If there’s anyone left. It will be a miserable winter if the fields are destroyed.”
“The Storyteller,” Citrine pressed. “What’s his name?” She didn’t want to believe it, but she realized the signs had been there all along. Even in the land of Novor Tur-Woodberry, there had been something about the Storyteller she could not put her finger on.
“Triften the Storyteller. He traveled with the army of White Steeds during the war. In fact, he is friends with all the great heroes. He knows the Rulers of the West in the Constel Heights and King Mattio of the Torrents Towers. He helped with the founding of Ellsmore, named after Eliesmore the Great Conqueror. He even knows the seafarers, Captain Wekin and Captain Yamier…”
Citrine’s head dropped, and while Hava continued to march and walk, her thoughts drifted away. Triften? A Disciple of Ithar? What did it mean? Was the warning Novor Tur-Woodberry had given her and Tor Lir true? Would they seek her out and kill her if they found out who she was? Was that why Triften had demanded to know of Tor Lir’s whereabouts? And then Hava’s later words rang like a bell. Triften knew Captain Wekin and Captain Yamier, the treasure hunters. They alone were the ones who could help her find the stone. But what of the gift of the Udi?
Indecision ripped at Citrine and, lost in her own thoughts, she did not notice where they were until Tor Lir lay a hand on her shoulder. They came to a halt, just below the stone tower. Citrine tilted her head back all the way to stare up at it, and still she felt she could not see the top. And then the ground trembled, and a painful howl filled the air.
36
Forced Control
“We need a plan
.” Hava rounded on Tor Lir, shaking dust from her braid.
Even in disarray, Tor Lir thought she looked beautiful. He nodded at her and shifted his gaze between her and Citrine. “We go in the front. It should be unlocked. There are three inside that I know of. Lord Nodin, Zilpha, and the beast of shadows.”
“Lord Nodin?” Hava asked, her sword falling to her side and her mouth hanging open.
“Zilpha.” Citrine muttered, rubbing the back of her head in remembrance.
Tor Lir glanced from one angry face to the next and then raised his hands. “Listen, you cannot let your emotions get in the way.” His chest swelled as he took control of the situation, and it felt good, leading them and having them listen to him without argument. “Hava, I have reason to believe Zilpha and Lord Nodin work together. Remember, at the tavern? Lord Nodin came to Zilpha’s rescue that evening before we could get much out of her concerning the treasure.”
“You told Hava about the treasure?” Citrine interrupted. Her lips thinned with displeasure.
Tor Lir raised an eyebrow at Citrine. She had no room to judge him when she was off making plans with the double-crossing Zilpha. But he said nothing of those thoughts. “We had an agreement. Lady Hava is starting off on her own and needed assistance.”
Citrine’s glare turned to Hava. “But you mentioned your father?”
Lady Hava’s face turned red, and Tor Lir wished he could protect her. Citrine had no right to dig into private family matters. But Lady Hava spoke softly without dropping her gaze. “He is abusive. I made a bargain with him for my freedom. He disowns me as his daughter and I am no longer a bargaining piece for him to control.”
Citrine frowned. Tor Lir could tell there was more she wanted to know, but instead she nodded. “Oh. I am sorry.”
Hava shrugged in discomfort and turned back to face Tor Lir. “Please. Continue.”
“Right. Citrine, I believe Zilpha used you to get to the treasure so she could deliver it to Lord Nodin. We discussed already, but I add it for Hava’s benefit. I went to the tower earlier today, Hava, and saw the treasure for myself. Lord Nodin will be expecting me, so I will handle him. Hava, take Zilpha, and Citrine, take the beast of shadows.”
Hava’s face paled. “Won’t we need all our strength to fight the beast?”
“It belongs to Lord Nodin,” Tor Lir explained, “and he led me to believe he has the ability to control the actions of the beast. Whether that’s true doesn’t matter. If we have Lord Nodin, we can keep him from releasing the beast. In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t already been released since its babies escaped. Besides, Citrine has a way with beasts. Should she need our assistance, she will let us know.”
Tor Lir watched Hava turn to Citrine, disbelief and a hint of fear marring her confidence. But Citrine was grinning, a glint of mischief in her lemon-yellow eyes. Tor Lir’s stomach flip-flopped at her expression. It was wicked, incorrigible, and yet it made him desire her. He shook himself and pulled an arrow out of his quiver. “Ready?”
Hava, in a surprising act of boldness, turned and marched to the door, sword held at chest level, just below her breasts. Lifting a booted foot, she kicked, and the door swung open, displaying a haze of rubble and smoke. The tower still stood, but pieces of it had fallen inward, destroying the beauty of some of its ornate decorative curves. Hava crouched, squinting through the haze, and Tor Lir walked up behind her, holding his bow, arrow nocked in it, over her head. His eyesight allowed him to see through the haze. There was no one in the courtyard. He looked up at the stairs. Lord Nodin might have gone above to secure the treasure. There had certainly been enough time for him to run up the stairs and back down, but Tor Lir had the feeling Lord Nodin would be at the top of the tower, far from the beast and waiting for him to return with Citrine.
“I know where the beast is,” Citrine whispered, her soft words floating to his ear. “I will reason with it.”
Hava cocked her head back and then stood, moving further into the chamber. “Perhaps we should stay together. Let’s all go—”
“No.” Citrine hissed, her voice taking on an unfriendly tone. “I will do this alone. Go find the others and we’ll meet back here when this is done.”
Hava’s eyes widened, and Tor Lir knew Citrine did not want her gift discovered. He nodded, placing a hand on the small of Hava’s back. “We’d better do as she says. Come, I think they are at the top of the tower. Prepare yourself. It will be a long climb.”
The tower was eerily quiet as they walked over broken stones and rubble, making for the spiral staircase that was still intact. Occasionally, a painful howl reverted through the air, and Tor Lir hoped Citrine would succeed in overpowering the beast with her mind. Again, he recalled the great water beast, Morag, and how it had entered her service. Why the beasts loved and followed her was still beyond him. Even though she spoke to them the way mere mortals spoke to each other, and he’d never seen mortals treat each other with the same respect Citrine gave her beasts.
Mortals abused and used each other for personal gain, they had pointless fights and squabbles. There seemed to be none of the respect for the plants, the animals, and the circle of life as it was in the forest of Shimla. Undoubtedly the Iaens had their faults, but growing up among them had made him more understanding when things went wrong.
He paused, his heart beating faster as he realized he missed the woods. He missed his people. When he let his thoughts drift, again the words of the green giantess who raised him rose to his memory. If you want to know who you are and where you came from, go to Daygone.
The word buzzed in his mind, and visions flashed, the In Between, the darkness between the world and then the underworld where the creatures with white tentacles for hair dwelt. He swallowed hard and saw a strange light coming from his hands. He held them up, stunned to see they were shimmering with green light. The shimmer would not have been noticeable in daylight, but in the dim light of the tower on the spiraling staircase, he saw it clearly. A lump formed in his throat, and he knew what he was looking at. He’d seen the shimmer before. It was the aura of the green giantess. It was the shimmer of power. There was something within him, and he’d repressed it too long. Now it was fighting to get out.
37
Citrine's Failure
Citrine crept down the spiraling staircase. Her eyes strained against the darkness, shifting into night vision. She imagined her eyes glowed like miniature lanterns, casting a pale yellow sheen across the ground. In a few places, the stairs were broken, and she came across an archway, the door hanging off its hinges. The air stank, smelling of bile and bodily fluids. Turning back toward the stairs, Citrine took a deep breath of fresh air before descending into the muck. A low growl emitted from deep below, and as she descended, a bellow vibrated within her chest. A swirl of emotions rose like the tide rolling up on white sands. Pain mixed with an intense longing for freedom, to fly like the little ones did and discover what happened to them. The emotion coursed through Citrine’s veins, thrumming within, threatening to burst out of her skin. She reached fingers up to her neck, trying to keep from clawing at the walls. For a moment, she did not know whether she was herself or the beast.
A few moments later, her vision cleared, and she gasped, almost gagging on the stench. Reaching out a hand, she supported herself against the stone wall while she reoriented herself. Excrement covered the floor, but her eyes widened when she saw the cells. Shallow hollows in the stone made a small room with bars over it. Most of them were empty, but the one she peered into had long bones in it, some longer than she was tall. She recoiled in surprise and then a hatred flashed in her eyes. The masters of the tower kept some beasts in those cells until they rotted and died. Citrine scowled, her hands balling up into fists. She thought of her magnificent beasts, their proud heads, sharp scales, soft feathers and their attitudes, strong and independent. She understood why they swore allegiance to her. It was for protection and to ensure their freedom. A freedom she believed all beasts should have and whi
ch, more importantly, she wanted for herself—a haven where she’d no longer have to hide from mortals or from the Disciples of Ithar.
She stopped when she reached the end and another archway showed a shaft leading up to sunlight, much like a well. She ducked underneath it, eyeing shattered egg shells with dried puss on them. She put two and two together. The shells were from the fire-breathing babies that swarmed the city. When she turned around, she almost tripped over her feet, and her heart thumped in her chest as she threw back her head to take in the full form of the beast that towered over her.
It stood on four legs with a pointed tail twice the length of its body. Its powerful legs allowed it to stand eight feet tall. She recoiled, hissing as she took in its appearance. It looked like a black panther with wicked curved fangs hanging out of its mouth, red eyes and a leathery pair of wings on its back. It snarled at her. A rough pink tongue the size of her face came out.
Citrine marveled, staring up at it, and then she held up a hand and cooed as she fought to establish a connection with the beast. “You have nothing to fear. My name is Citrine the Enchantress. I have come to help you and release you from captivity. No more will you be trapped here. You are free to fly. If you should choose, you may come under my blessing and I will protect you, as I do with all of my beasts. What say you? What will you choose?”
She repeated her words, walking closer, almost moved to tears at the matted fur and the blood in the barbed tail of the creature. The creature screeched—a high piercing keening—and it rose up on its hind legs, its claws ripping through the stones, causing a high-pitched irritating scratching sound. Citrine screamed, clasping her hands to her ears as the horrible sound jolted through her, like claws ripping down the soft skin of her back, sinking close to her spine. The beast snarled, and its red eyes glimmered as it turned on her. Citrine backed away, recognizing the fear and anger in its eyes. She yanked her knives from her belt and held them out up in front of her. “I know you do not mean it,” she shouted. “I give you freedom and mercy, safety from harm. You were wronged in the eyes of a mortal; I will not repeat those transgressions. Look at me and see who I am. Change the color of your eyes. Look at me!”
Legend of the Nameless One Boxset Page 35
