by Brindi Quinn
Pedj’s fists begin to shake. “He was the one what forced my people over the crankin’ RISE?!”
“No. His orders were for the royal army to study the Rise and Reck and figure out how to get beyond.”
“Wait,” I say. “Could he not transpose himself there? We witnessed him rise from the banks–”
“He hadn’t yet learned how to move through the folds of space. THAT is a new trick.” Bexwin rolls eyes at Pedj. “He isn’t all-powerful as the necromancers believe. Or rather, he wasn’t.”
“If he weren’t the one what ordered my people over the Rise, then who was?!” demands Pedj.
The Count turns sly and nods to Feligo.
“Me?!” Feligo lurches forward in defense. “How dare you suggest that–”
“Not you, foxy. Your army. They took advantage of the Bloődites all on their own and have been blaming my brother ever since. It only made matters worse. When he saw the way the soldiers carried out the orders, he saw the true ugliness of Color. He vowed to get rid of it completely.”
“But he did the same at the Gloerland altar!” I cry. “He sacrificed those people for the sake of fueling the hair of the hellbeast!”
“Again, it took precedence.”
So he despises the acts of humanity, but only until it is convenient to do the same?!
Bexwin holds up his hands listlessly. “Don’t look at me. It’s not as though I agree with him. I’m merely explaining his motives.”
Sigh. And sigh again. “Fair enough,” I say. “As for a way to revert the curse . . .?”
Bexwin turns to Pedj. “I’ve gathered what I can of your situation. Arkraine heard about your prophecy from the twin witches of Secret Mountain. He’s been in contact with them for decades, trading secrets and conjurings.”
Pedj’s eyes bulge. Guilty, he swallows deeply with regret. Ark heard about the prophecy from the witches. There is no question he laments over his decision to share the prophecy with them. Moreover, it was to free his cousin – the same cousin who now hunts him. There is not time for regret.
“The witches gave Ark the hair of the hellbeast in the first place,” I press on.
Bexwin nods. “I couldn’t say what he promised in exchange for the necromancer’s secret, but whatever it was, Arkraine found out about the prophecy after the fall. My guess is he went to them to gloat over his success, but when he heard what they had to say, he was forced to focus on you all, the ones he gave a free pass. He awoke me to petition my aid. He thought I’d predict your movements, having spent time with the stripling in the Amethyst City. Can’t say I can complain about being awoken, but he vastly overestimated my knowledge of your stripling. Could be because I told him I was like an uncle to the boy . . .? But then, we’ll never know for sure.”
That is probably exactly why!
The Count continues, “As you’ve no doubt guessed, the ‘Truth’ of Yel’ram coincides with the prophecy of your necromancer:
‘Beneath the cascade, the bones sleep,
Protecting ye faithful with darkened might.
From beyond the Vessel and slain in blood,
The creature’s wrath bides.
Hark and heed, ye faithful few!
The Truth shall set ye free.
When falls fall under foreign sun,
The UNSPOKEN will claim its debt.
And the Queen will claim her quarry.’”
I hear it and stiffen. This was the secret kept by Sanjuel and the others? The UNSPOKEN shall claim its debt?
Then . . .
THE NECROMANCERS LIVED ABOVE THE BONES OF SOME CREATURE, WITHOUT KNOWING ANYTHING OF ITS NATURE?! And a creature from beyond the Vessel, AT THAT! They relied on ‘darkened’ protection, without fear of what price they might be made to pay?
Sigh. I will never truly understand the thinking of mortals.
“Arkraine didn’t put much stock in the divination. My brother thought it was as simple as religious ramblings.” Bexwin’s smile curls into sneer. “That is, until he heard the secret you, necromancer, told the witches.”
Pedj’s eyes, which have not ceased bulging, bulge even further. The Queen will claim her quarry. My new confidant believes his fate is sealed.
“If the colors are gone,” Bexwin goes on, “everything that relies on enchants will fail. Arkraine and I will perish. It’s obvious why he doesn’t want your prophecy fulfilled. I, on the other hand, am sick of his drivel. I’m happy to let my power run dry if it means he dies knowing he never won me over.”
. . . Truly?
The Count is willing to die to defy his brother? Forsooth, I do not know him well enough to question the genuineness of his resolve.
There is much. Much and much we have learned, and in the cleared space, we allow our thought to run. Pedj’s secret . . . Yel’ram’s secret . . .
We three travelers reach the same conclusion at the same time, though Feligo is first to voice it: “Aha! The UNSPOKEN! Do you think it’s . . .?” There is not need for him to finish. Pedj’s whiteness speaks for itself.
“Yes,” I say, “if the prophecy truly aligns with the Yel’ram Truth, then the UNSPOKEN . . .”
“Is the draggar,” Pedj finishes, gone from pale to paler.
Draggar. My body gives a shake at the sheer mention of its name.
“Whatever that is,” says Bexwin.
So even the Count does not know. Yet his disquiet is apparent.
It is a troubling thought that a word alone is able to arouse such uneasiness in all of us. Never before have I tasted a thing so foul. Might it be that the very word ‘draggar’ is cursed? Enchanted with an ominous taste that is dangerously close to the stench of Void. Speaker beware.
Yes, it is unsettling. But as I give off a shudder over the word, I am reminded by the pull of Thyst through my body that my pactor yet rests. Continuing our quest, deciding where to go from here, none of it will have worth if I do not ask of Bexwin the question I have been afraid to ask. The most important piece. The one that matters more to me than Ark, the prophecy, and the unknown creature of dark might. I lower myself beside Awyer, whose hair falls over his ears.
“The sleepness was brought on by Gold. Without the colors, the sleepness will lift. That given, there is one more thing I would like to ask.” I rest my hand upon Awyer’s. I will need his comfort in case the answer is not desirable.
“Only one?” Bexwin hisses.
“True, there are more, but this one takes, as you say, precedence.” It is not a lie. Nay, this question is most, most, most important of all. I take a breath and squeeze Awyer’s lifeless hand. “Without the Mother Colors and without Void and Gold, what will happen to me? What will happen to the other naefaeries? Will we exist? And even if we do . . .” My throat catches itself. “Will we be seen by our pactors, or will we disappear from thought entirely?”
Bexwin looks from me to my resting sphinx and then again to me.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” he says. “Besides, does staying visible to your pactor really mean that much to you?” He scoffs, “What kind of future could you two possibly have?” His low soft voice becomes even lower. “Think long and hard, faerie. Would you really want to bring another Ark into the world?”
“I–”
Whatever my answer, I am not given the chance to deliver it, for at that moment, the golden clouds give off a sickening CRACK!
Bexwin lifts his head to the sky, draws a hand through his side-swept hair, and says,
“Mercy me, she’s here.”
Chapter XV: Dimensia
There is a look I have seen upon a face or two in my time. The knowing that the end is nigh – it leaves a certain stain upon the face. Even those without foresight can foresee when death is near.
I have caused that look.
Once, in the distant past.
Once, I killed one of my wards and he, too, sported that look.
And when it was through, I vowed never to pact with a silverfox again.
At the time, I
felt no great sadness over ending his life.
But eons can change the soul, and my young heart – the heart of a girl – now laments the fear showing through Feligo’s war-ready scowl.
Aye, there is a look that shows when the end is near.
A look of panic for which there is no remedy.
The moment the sky cracks, Pedj’s face takes on that look. In the same way that Feligo’s does – even more so – Pedj’s face bends under the foresight of death.
Because I do not yet know if ridding the world of color will forever sever my ties with Awyer, I cannot allow Mael to raise the draggar. But it is more than that. I am reluctant to let end the lives of the Maestro and ex-zombie.
The ex-zombie is a good soul. It would be a shame for him to die.
In the center of the clearing, surrounded by thorned vines and springy beanstalks, anticipation falls. Bexwin glares at the sky as though it is a tangible enemy. Feligo takes up sworded stance. Pedj’s feet root to the earth.
“Mael’s here,” he says, stare turned blank. “What’s is, is she’s gonna kill me.”
“No!” I take protective stance over my pactor. “We cannot let her do that yet. Not until we know the consequences!”
“YET? Geesh, fanks a lot, Gwim!”
“That is not what I meant! I . . .” What did I mean?
“MAEL’S SMACK GONNA KILL ME, RAISE UP THE DRAGGAR AND BECOME A QUEEN!” Pedj succumbs to hysteria.
“My confidant,” I say. No, that is not quite right. “My friend, I told you. We will not let that happen. I will defend you!”
“OH YEAH?!” Pedj squeals. “AND WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, GWIM?! AIN’T THAT WHAT YOU CRANKIN’ WANT?! IF MAEL GETS RID OF COLOR, AWYER’S GONNA WAKE UP, FAR’S I CAN TELL!”
But . . . even if he awakens . . .
That does not assure that our pact will remain.
I am afraid. And unsure. And not as confident as I once was. All of that aside – “Defending you is what Awyer would want,” I say in a small voice. “If I can be sure of nothing else, at least I know that to be true.”
“You know my vote,” says Bexwin. “Sorry, stripling, but don’t you think your sacrifice is a small price to pay for destroying Ark?”
The callousness of Bexwin’s statement makes Pedj’s teeth grind.
“What’re you sayin’, cwoop?”
“I’m saying I think you should bite the bullet, take it like a man, and let yourself become draggar chow.”
“WAAAK! BUT Y-YOU’LL CWANKIN’ BE DESTWOYED TOO!”
“Exactly. And you don’t see me making a fuss, do you?”
“Stop it!” Feligo shoos their quarreling away with a sweep of his arm. “Recklessness will get us nowhere! Prophecies and secrets are often distorted over time! Before jumping to conclusions, let’s first see the state of the mancer. I, for one,” – Feligo holds his hand to his chest – “choose not to assume she’s given into madness.”
“Grasping at straws,” Bexwin mutters under his breath.
Feligo continues, “We should also consider that raising this ‘draggar’ could be detrimental to the world. Think about it, anything with a name so terror-striking, born beyond the vessel, can’t be something good. By following this ancient babble, we might only make things worse! For all you know, without any color at all, the rest of us could fall!”
“It is true,” I agree with him, though he cannot hear it. “None of us know exactly the meaning behind the necromancers’ prophecy or the Yel’ram Truth.” Then where do we go from here? It hits me. “But Awyer knows things! He tried to tell me them but we ran out of time! If only I could speak with him again–”
“Like we got time for that!” Pedj wails. A proper fit commences, in which the zombie plucks at his hair and pulls at his face.
Meanwhile, the sky is behaving unnaturally. My attention is drawn to it.
The cracking sound was only the precursor for a startling display. As we watch, the overhead clouds of golden fog begin to droop. Not only do they droop; dangling limbs of cloud extend beneath the sky, alike dripping tentacles, carrying in them a pair of darkened shapes. Highly unusual behavior for a sky! Over the jungle, the cloud arms drip lower and lower, clutching in them the shapes, until disappearing beyond the tree line.
Those shapes!
“Was them!” Pedj says, hair amiss. “Didja see?!”
Yes, I saw. We all saw. Our forgotten comrades. They are here.
“What lies that way?” Feligo demands, point fixated on the cloud limbs. His sense of direction really is not keen at all! The arms clearly extend to –
“The falls!” I answer him. But of course, he does not hear, and before Pedj can relay the answer, a new threat emerges. Without anything in the way of warning, the ex-zombie is captured around the wrist by a whip of black. Out of nowhere, the inky blackness comes, wrapping firmly around his arm.
“WAAK!” He lets out another great quack.
Before I see the Void’s true source, I cry, “Ark!” Too late I realize, it is not Ark’s spell.
It is Bexwin’s.
“Time to go now, stripling,” the elder says in a hiss. “I told you my vote, and since no one has a better solution, I think it’s time we go see your felion or whatever.”
“Knave!” Feligo shouts with a lunge. “That isn’t your decision to make!” Quick-reflexed, the silverfox makes a slash at the rope of Void with his Gold-fueled sword, but however quick his reflexes are, the Count’s are faster. Feligo’s sword is caught around the blade by a second whip of Void and is torn from Feligo’s steady hand, landing some paces away in the overgrown forest. Naked without his weapon, the Maestro hurries to retrieve it.
“EH?!” Pedj’s wide eyes cannot keep up with the situation. He begins to pull at his wrist, struggling for freedom, when his energy would be better spent releasing the sun’s light!
“Not like that, Pedjram!” I shout, yet remaining protectively over Awyer because I cannot leave him defenseless. “Focus on your light!” Alas, the second part falls only upon the ears of our new-turned enemy. Bexwin shoves Pedj at the last moment, propelling the darkened crystal from his mouth. Without the crystal, Pedj does not hear my order. He continues to struggle.
I am left confidant-less.
While Feligo rustles around in the growth for his sword, Bexwin gives another flick of his wrist – a command intended to wrap Pedj even more in the bindings of Void! I cannot stand by! Mustering as much strength as I can, I release a blast of Gold at the Count. Round and glittering, the smoke bomb travels toward him, but instead of making contact, it swivels around him.
Gold will not attack Gold, true, but Bexwin is of Void!
By the hoo, your magick’s dark, ain’t it? Saw you cast Void right before my eyes. So why aren’t you writhin’ round like what the rest of them dark buggers are?
A very good question.
Much in the same way you learned to use Gold, I learned to use Amethyst.
Of course! If Bexwin learned to use Amethyst, then what was to stop him from learning the ways of Gold? Nothing! Bexwin is of both Gold and Void. But if Gold cannot stop him and Void cannot stop him, then how are we to retrieve Pedj?!
“Grim?!” My no-longer confidant’s words are no longer jumbled by the crystal. “HOOP! GRIM?!” Calling for me, he struggles against the sticky cuff around his arm. “Ugh! What gives, you old croop?”
Bexwin answers by summoning a cloud of shadowy Void around the ex-zombie’s neck.
“C-come on!” Pedj pleads. “Thought we was bondin’!”
Two more voided wrappings clam Pedj’s arms to his sides.
“Can’t we ‘least talk ‘bout this before you take me to, you know, my CRANKIN’ SLAUGHTER!?”
The Count rolls his eyes. “Dear me. So dramatic. Reminds me of my brother. Come now, maybe it’s as Mr. Fox says – maybe your felion hasn’t given way to madness yet. MAYBE the pair of you will team up to find a happy, tra-la-la, solution out of this fix?” A smile reeking of sarcasm
curls below the Count’s nose. “We won’t know until we meet her, though, will we?”
Out of frustration, I blast a round of Gold at the Count, hoping that somehow, one of them will turn rogue and attack. Each of them shoots off course and into the trees. Feligo stands, sword in hand to make another lunge, but Bexwin’s control over Void is at mastery. A condensed bomb of Void knocks the dashing fox off his feet. And while I float, unable to do anything, the fiend gives a tug, and Pedj, bound in several places by sticky enchants, is pulled through the surrounding smorgasbord of plants, leaving me without confidant and Feligo without direction.
Upon retrieving his sword a second time, the silverfox growls after the disappeared abductor. Though defeated, he thinks quickly on his feet. “Fae!” Sensing me, he thrusts a finger toward my forehead. “Shall we go after them?”
I answer him by making a pass through his body.
The crystal, propelled somewhere into the wilderness, is a great asset, and something we ought not leave behind, but we have little choice. Feligo knows it, too. He makes no effort to retrieve the stone, instead pointing his opposite hand at my forehead so that both are fixed squarely on me.
“Make rash and dash, girl!”
Girl. I delight in the sound of it.
“I will lead you to the falls,” I say. Even though he cannot hear it, acting real makes me feel as though I have some semblance of control. “Gather Awyer, and follow my Gold!”
In this way, we remaining three travel after Bexwin and Pedj.
Yel’ram’s jungle only thickens as we go. The most direct line to the falls, the way Count Bexwin headed, is without path. We cannot spare time. Pedj’s life and my pact are in jeopardy. Thus, we press onward through the thick, unforgiving greenery. Though I breeze through with ease, the cacti of the jungle nab at Awyer’s and Feligo’s flesh. Each are pricked by slim needles, as well as obtrusive thorns. Blood is drawn from my resting pactor’s arms. Scratches form across Feligo’s structured cheeks.
