by Jordi Burton
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T here was fear, worry, and confusion. There was cold and wind. Waves crashed. Anastasia rolled over. A cry escaped her lips as pain lanced through her back. It felt like she was dislocating her arm, but they were both in front of her. She opened her eyes.
It took a moment for her surroundings to solidify around her. Stone swam before her, interspersed with flashes of color. Sitting up, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Nausea bubbled up and she vomited everything in her stomach. It was then that she realized she was utterly naked. Rustling sounded behind her. Covering herself with her hands, she turned. But there was no one there. A flash of white in her periphery drew her attention. When she realized what it was, she froze. This couldn’t be real.
Getting to her feet, she took stock in her surroundings. It seemed she was in the middle of a gathering hall of some sort, within a castle. Through the high-paned windows, she could see water extend around her in every direction. Wind rushed through the windows, making the room chilled. She glanced around, wrapping her arms around herself.
On the opposite wall, she found a looking glass. Though it was warped and colored with age, she could still make out her reflection. What she saw drew a cry from her lips.
Violet swirls, like those on the royal seal, colored her body from head to toe. Her tattoos were gone, as though they’d never appeared. But most startling were the gossamer feather wings on her back. They rose from between her shoulder blades, tucked neatly around her body. As she turned her body to look at them, they stretched. Startled by the movement, she leapt back. The wings unfurled and carried her backwards with one powerful stroke. Staring at herself in the looking glass, she realized she looked like the Angel Razibelle.
“Gods and Angels,” she breathed.
As soon as she thought of closing the wings, they obliged, snapping back around her. Jostled by the sudden movement, she staggered on her feet. What was all of this? Had she hit her head when she fell through the floor? Was this all an elaborate dream?
But then, dawning realization flooded through her. This was Joey’s spell. This was what he’d done with the spinal fluid.
Looking around, she made a second startling discovery: small wooden crests, labeled with the names of the twelve ancient families of Jacqueline, lined the tops of the walls. She spotted the crossed swords of the Dinas family, and the plumes of feathers of the Piliar family… this was somehow a Nadmilise castle. What was this place?
Turning, she headed through the main door. A large foyer opened before her. Furs lined the entrance; a circular iron chandelier hung from long chains. A worn tapestry depicted some sort of battle, with an angel-like figure wearing a crown at the head. Vaguely, Anastasia wondered if it was her family pictured. Rough iron sconces held rotted wood torches, leading the way further into the castle. Anastasia followed them, working to ignore the rustle of the wings.
“Hello?” she called. Her voice rang hollowly through the empty halls.
A winding staircase took her up to a floor with rooms. They were sparsely decorated with furs and trunks. At the top floor, she found but one door. Inside was a bed with furs and knit blankets. Old wax hung from alcoves where candles must’ve burned at one time. A large trunk sat at the foot of the bed. When Anastasia looked inside, she found dusty gowns in the fabrics and designs of ancient Nadmilise. What stunned her, however, were the openings in the back. They were large enough to accommodate wings.
“What is this place?” she breathed.
Selecting a gown that seemed her size, she dressed. It was a simple off-the-shoulder gown, with fabric that pooled at her feet, in faded gray and gold colors. Finding a pair of slippers, she slipped them on. They were a little small, but they would do for now.
She needed to find someone or something to tell her where she was. If this was Joey’s spell as she suspected, there should be a reason behind it. So far, she didn’t understand.
A noise sounded downstairs. Gathering her skirts, Anastasia raced down the staircase. At the bottom, she stepped off carefully, tip-toeing towards the crashing sounds coming from the gathering room. Peering around the doorway, she found it to only be a bird that had come through the open door.
Breathing a sigh of equal relief and frustration, she shooed the bird out of the castle. As she approached the entrance, she looked out into the fading light. There was only water as far as the eye could see, turning to marshland in the feet surrounding the castle.
She was utterly alone.
Darkness was rapidly approaching. She needed to find light, some food, and search the castle for some indication of her location. Working quickly, in one of the rooms she found a candle that wasn’t completely used. Using the top layer of her skirts, she gathered the remaining wax hanging from all the mantles.
Piling it all on the table in the kitchens, she ransacked the cupboards. Thankfully, she found a jar of some dried sort of meat cake wrapped in cheese cloth, hidden beneath a pile of rotting wood. It reminded her of something she’d had in the giants’ realm, Obzym. Something called pemmican.
Sitting at the table, she took to fashioning candles. With flint from the fireplace, she managed to light the existing candle. She worked swiftly, taking intermittent bites of the pemmican as she went. Heating the leftover pieces of wax she’d salvaged, she formed them into cylindrical shapes, molded around twined pieces of cotton cloth she tore from the hem of her gown. Conserving the rest of her meal, she tucked the newfound candles into her bodice, grabbed her one lit candle, and headed back into the main floor of the castle.
Darkness settled on the castle. Thankfully, it was nearly a third the size of the castle in Jacqueline, making it less frightening to be alone. Her small candle provided just enough light to see.
She found that keeping herself busy kept her panic at bay. She didn’t think about the fact that she’d been removed as ruler of Jacqueline, or that Niboki and Tamo had taken her throne. She didn’t dwell on William’s imprisonment, or Joey’s attack. She didn’t think about her family, or the fact that she was stranded in a strange castle on an island. All that mattered was finding information.
Ironically, she discovered an old map in the bedroom where she’d found the clothing. Unfurling the ancient parchment, she blew dust from the pages. A kingdom appeared before her, expertly diagramed.
There were eleven lands, denoted with colors and coats of arms. The most familiar, and the one Anastasia seemed to be in, was Irichat gol Naingeliar. It’s coat of arms had the tiara from the Nadmilise royal seal, made with a laurel leaf circlet, as well as a flaming torch, all on a silver and violet background.
Spotting other familiar coats of arms, realization dawned on Anastasia. These were the first realms, back before the creation of the realms as she knew them. This was the time Before, back when magic still lived among peoples, back when Nadmilise were the spiritual leaders of the worlds. Joey had brought them back to an ancient place full of old power and superstitions. But… was it just her here in this place? Or had he brought everyone back with her?
She pictured the way the world had crumbled, the way the people melted. They had to be here somewhere, she just needed to find them.
She needed a boat.
Looking at the other kingdoms, she familiarized herself with the lands. All the realms were represented, but there was an eleventh realm, one she didn’t recognize, smack dab in the middle of the continent she was on. And seeing as she didn’t speak the ancient language the map was written in, and she didn’t recognize the coat of arms, she had absolutely no idea what it could be.
Pushing back from the table, she stood. If everyone else had been brought to this world, as she suspected, they could be anywhere in these lands. The first thing she needed to do was get to the mainland of where she was. The castle was depicted on the map; if she traveled westward, she’d hit land in a matter of hours. But what to do once she found people was a separate question altogether. They needed to return to their home and stop whatever it was
Joey wanted from this place. But how?
Absently, she looked over the crests on the edges of the map. It took her a moment to realize that they were decidedly not the crests in the gathering room. They were unlike anything she’d seen before.
Seven in total, they depicted strange things like vibrant phoenixes and chains wrapped around crowns. Anastasia studied them, trying to understand what they meant. Beneath them were what appeared to be titles. Seeing one she recognized, she understood.
“The Vatis,” she breathed.
These were the crests of the Ancients. She supposed they were not considered so ancient here, in this ancient place. They were probably the predominant families of the kingdoms. She wondered how they coincided, or didn’t, with the twelve ancient families of Jacqueline, for these were far older. There were too many questions that needed answering. But how was she to get answers?
Lightning flashed, making Anastasia jump. She looked through the windows, finding a storm rolling in. Quickly, she went around latching all the windows in the castle. By the time she finished, the rain started to come down in heavy sheets. She sat at a window, looking out, watching the way the storm churned the water. Her mind turned to the people that had once lived in this castle—her ancestors, she presumed. The clothes were made for wings. So, had all her people had wings in the past?
Turning, she studied the wings. They seemed to answer her instincts, moving as her other limbs, without any sort of provocation. It was strange, to say the least, and she couldn’t quite think of them as hers. She wondered if the Angels felt this way.
Either way, some ancient Nadmilise had lived in this place, probably a distant relation of Anastasia’s. It was surreal to imagine that she wore some great-grandmother’s gown, sleeping in the same places she had, and yet she knew nothing of the woman. Who else had lived in these walls? Why had they built their castle on an island? What had their lives been like?
She’d studied history with her mother when they were in the human realm, seeing as she’d need the information to rule. But she’d only learned as far back as the founding of the realms. In fact, none of their historical scrolls had any knowledge of the time before the realms; that was why it was so difficult for Knowledgist Woodsman to find anything out about the Vatis. The map was the first piece of information, outside of the List in Chris’ head, that gave them any inclination that the Ancients were real.
Suddenly, Anastasia made a connection. She didn’t need a boat to get to the mainland. She had wings! In response to her thought, they rustled behind her, as though restless.
As soon as the storm cleared, she’d fly to the mainland and find her people.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
D aybreak brought about the end of the storm. Anastasia awoke, groggy and stiff, in the main bedchambers. She stretched, and her wings unfurled, startling her. She gave a small yelp, before she remembered what they were. Catching sight of them, and the violet swirls upon her skin, she sighed. Everything in this place was different.
Gathering up the map, she ate a small breakfast of pemmican and headed for the door. The overcast morning gave off pale gray light, but it didn’t seem like another storm was imminent.
Clenching her fists, Anastasia steeled herself. Her wings unfurled with a loud flap, nearly twice as long as her arms. Facing west, she took off at a run. The wings caught air and lifted her, carrying her into the air. Elation and nausea warred within her. There was something primal about flight. It struck a chord within her, filling her with an intense sense of rightness. Yet, at the same time, it was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to fly. Nadmilise didn’t have wings.
She squelched both feelings, turning her attention west. Her wings carried her without much thought, and she scanned the water below for any signs of life. There wasn’t much to see, other than the occasional tower. She supposed those were to alert ships nearing land. But they were empty.
A feeling of fear started to trickle through her, but she didn’t understand why. The further west she flew, the more intense it became, until she didn’t have to work not to focus on the feelings her wings induced. It squandered all other emotion, but she was distinctly unafraid. Other feelings, of panic and worry, flooded her, making her stomach roll. What was happening? Why did she feel this way?
She managed to ignore it, and the trembling it caused in her hands, as she spotted land. It came into view through the clouds, shrouded in a thin mist. The houses were mostly whole, like the castle, though showed signs of age. The stone walls around the town were crumbled, some with entire chunks missing. Boats sat along the shore, bobbing up and down on their ties. They were makeshift things, and distinctly old, with rotted flags and deep crevices on their decks.
A little further inland, she spotted people. At last! But as soon as her feet touched ground, she was overcome with warring emotions. Anxious. Frightened. Nervous. Curious. Horrified. They twisted through her. It felt like she was trapped within herself, peering through the haze of feelings, unable to assert her own amongst them. It was then she begun to realize that they didn’t feel like her own emotions. But how could that be? How could she feel something other than what she felt? As she struggled to make sense of it all, people called her name.
She looked up, spotting familiar faces. But as they neared, the emotions furrowing inside her intensified. The panic drove her to her knees, while the fear blurred her vision. She cried out, wrapping her arms around herself, begging to make it end. Darkness dragged her under.
***
When she awoke, she found herself on a bed, lying on her stomach. Pushing herself up, she looked around. The inside of the house looked much like the castle: sparse with clear signs of age.
“Your Highness.”
Turning, she looked up into Gerrard’s eyes. He was covered in swirls as well, though his were the cyan blue his mastery tattoo had been. Thick brown wings stretched from his shoulder blades, nearly brushing the floor as he moved.
“Are you all right?” He grunted and shook his head. “Of course you’re not. You’re confused.”
She blinked. What was going on? Thankfully, the strange emotions seemed lessened, though they buzzed inside her still. A sense of protection vibrated through her, stronger than the rest.
Gerrard sat beside her. Slowly, he touched her hand. The feeling of protectiveness exploded through her, threaded with caution and wanting. Anastasia pulled away from him as though he’d burned her; the intensity of the feelings faded. She stared at him in confusion, her mind struggling to keep up with what was happening.
“What was that?” she gasped.
“We can feel the feelings of others.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
But the explanation made sense. She wasn’t feeling everything that was inside her, and she had no other way to explain it. So… the Nadmilise were empaths. She tasted the thought, turning it around in her mind.
Gerrard looked at her, and she realized he knew what she was feeling. “It’s a struggle at first, but within the hour, you should be able to ignore them.”
“Who else is here?” she asked.
“The other ancient families.”
“My parents? Valdon?”
He shook his head. “It seems this was where our ancestors lived. We found our surnames on things inside the homes.”
“Where could everyone else be?”
Neither had an answer. Anastasia took in the room again. So, this part of town was where the twelve ancient families lived. Perhaps further inland they would find others. But it still didn’t answer what Joey wanted by using this spell. What was his motive? And how was the man with the black eyes, Adrian, involved?
“We only just arrived here a few hours ago,” Gerrard explained. “Perhaps others will arrive later in the day?”
“Where did you come from?”
He frowned. “Sehir.”
“You mean you only woke up here a few hours ago?”
“How long have you been here?”
“
Since yesterday.”
Gerrard sat back. “Gods and Angels.”
So, perhaps others would arrive. Could some still be trapped in Sehir? Who had Joey brought here, and why? She shook her head. She was no closer to finding any answers than she was the night before.
“We need to set up food and shelter,” she said. “And then we need to go further inland and find others. If we have a central location, we can help everyone.”
Gerrard nodded. “There are fish in these waters, and a grove of fruits and vegetables not far.”
“Good.”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Anastasia stood. How long would it be until everyone arrived here? Would everyone arrive here? They could set up a registration center, like they had throughout Jacqueline, to reunite families separated by the Chaos. They could log families, assign housing, hand out rations. Someone else would need to scout the land, find supplies.
She turned to Gerrard. “Who of those with you do you trust?”
“My sisters, and the Ros brothers.”
Nodding, she turned everything over in her mind. Absently, she realized her wings unfurled slightly and tightened as she paced, seemingly as restless as she. Those that were less frightened by the current events would be good to forage and fish, others could search the nearby homes. Three groups would need to head north, west, and south—as the castle was the easternmost point—searching for others and taking stock of the town buildings and innards. They needed a more detailed map.
She hoped against hope that William, Chris, and her family were nearby. But, she remembered, there were ten other kingdoms. They could’ve ended up anywhere in the realm. Surely Nadmilise could not fly those distances?
“Do you have a portal tool?” she asked Gerrard, feeling stupid for not considering it before.
