From Anastasia (The Anastasia Series Book 3)

by Jordi Burton

  A leaf-strewn pathway led through the skeletal trees and into the small town. All the homey stone shops and brick buildings were illuminated by candles flickering inside strange carved pumpkins that covered every doorstep. They had grotesque features and seemed to glare at Ericcen wherever he moved. The streets between them were eerily silent and empty; the whisper of wind through the trees was the only sound. If not for the pumpkins, Ericcen would’ve thought the town deserted.

  “Where is everyone?” Norden asked.

  Crossing the street, Ericcen peered into the nearest shop window. The inside was empty, the door bolted. What would make an entire town of people leave their homes at the same time?

  Then, a faint, strange sort of chanting sounded through the silence. Aelnold frowned. “Sounds like it’s coming from the forest.”

  They followed the chanting to the other side of town where a line of more carved pumpkins created a path into the forest. At the end of it, three large tables sat what looked to be the whole town. Just like Prince Mohan, all the sorcerers had stark white hair and icy blue eyes. They were dressed in flowing black or orange clothes, with large obsidian and sapphire amulets around their necks.

  As Ericcen and his brothers watched, a woman at each table led the other sorcerers in a chant, each reading from a grimoire similar to Prince Mohan’s.

  “Spirits of my fathers and mothers, I call to you, and welcome you to join me for this night,” the women recited. “Your blood runs in my veins, your spirit is in my heart, your memories are in my soul. Tonight, I thank you.”

  Each table was filled with stewed apples, bowls of pomegranate seeds, porridges, rice, pies, roasted hazelnuts, cakes in the shape of skulls, corn, cranberry muffins, and tankards of ale. There was also an extra place setting, complete with food and wine, though no one sat before it. But that wasn’t even the strangest part. A large altar, complete with white and black candles, gourds, apples, a bowl of smoking heliotrope, nutmeg, and sage, and a chalice of wine sat at the far end of the gathering.

  Norden whispered, “What is all this?”

  “Looks like a feast of some kind,” said Ericcen.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t intrude,” Aelnold murmured.

  But as they stepped back, a branch snapped beneath their weight. The sorcerers whipped around, fixing them with harsh glares.

  Ericcen blanched. “Seems a little too late for that, now.”

  “Nadmilise!” one of the women hissed.

  Another woman stepped forward, holding a metal scepter aloft. It was carved into the shape of a stag, whose antlers caged a large opal.

  “Hístalek!” she shouted.

  A wave of magic exploded forth from the scepter, engulfing Ericcen, Norden, and Aelnold. They flew backwards, harsh wind tearing at them. When it dissipated, they were once again standing in the middle of the empty town, entirely disoriented.

  “What in the name of the Gods and Angels was that?” Norden cried. “I thought they couldn’t do magic here!”

  Ericcen got to his feet, dusting his trousers. “I think it’s safe to say Queen Sona isn’t here.”

  “She did magic!”

  “Sorcerers can do magic, Norden,” said Aelnold. “It just takes a tremendous amount of energy, and requires a talisman, like that woman’s scepter.”

  Norden shook his head. “But why did she attack us?”

  Ericcen frowned. “I think it’s safe to say the Nadmilise aren’t that popular around here.”

  “They must blame us for coming to this Old World,” said Aelnold.

  Ericcen agreed. If he’d had magic, and it was abruptly taken from him, he wouldn’t be too pleased with whoever caused it, either. But they didn’t realize that the Nadmilise weren’t to blame; every single realm played a part in the spell to bring them here, even if it was unwilling. Princess Anastasia had been doing everything in her power to stop it from happening. And yet, she was again under scrutiny for something that was out of her control, like the Shadow attacks on Sehir all those months before.

  Shaking his head, he turned to face the task at hand. He knew from the last time he’d checked the map, that they needed to head westward. He supposed if they finished searching their section of the kingdom, and wound up empty-handed, they’d simply return to Bahail and hope the others had more luck. But he couldn’t imagine returning to the Princess without any information.

  In the last month or so, he’d gotten to know Princess Anastasia pretty well. She was poised, and wise, and, of course, very beautiful. But there was something about her, like she wasn’t being entirely honest about herself. It wasn’t sinister, but it did intrigue Ericcen. He wanted to earn her secrets.

  He supposed that was why he’d agreed to join the confluence of men vying for her hand in marriage. It had been fun, beating the competition simply by having easy conversation with her. But now? Now they were in the Old World, and she hadn’t so much as looked at any of them in a romantic sense since. He wondered if she was biding her time, waiting until they returned to Sehir. Or if, perhaps, she wasn’t interested in a husband any longer? She hadn’t been sick since their arrival, so maybe this was all moot?

  With a sigh, Ericcen turned to his brothers. “It’s time to move on.”

  Norden rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving!”

  “We could stop into the tavern,” Aelnold suggested, motioning to the building across the street.

  Ericcen frowned. “We haven’t any money.”

  “But we have some pemmican left. It could be a trade.”

  Though Ericcen wasn’t convinced, he was just as hungry as his brother. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days. And though the sorcerers were sure to be upset if they found out, it was better than eating pemmican for the sixth day in a row.

  So, the three brothers hurried across the street and ducked into the open tavern. In the kitchens, they found bread, vegetable stews, and lots of cakes. They dug in hungrily.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Startled, they all turned to see a sorcerer standing behind them. He was dressed like all the others and carried a small satchel. Ericcen swallowed nervously. They’d been caught. But a cursory test of the man’s emotions found him to be simply curious, rather than angry.

  “We meant to make a trade,” Ericcen explained.

  The sorcerer laughed. “I’m sure you did.”

  Eyeing the satchel, Aelnold frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to make a trade of my own.”

  The four men considered each other. Ericcen furrowed his brow. Was this sorcerer taking food as well? What about the feast in the forest? Surely they had enough to feed the whole town twice over.

  The sorcerer held out his hand. “Balan.”

  Aelnold took his hand. “Aelnold Ros, and my brothers Ericcen and Norden.”

  “A little bold for you Nadmilise to be in this kingdom, the way things are now. Might I ask why you’d brave the wrath of the sorcerers?”

  Ericcen cleared his throat. “We’re searching for Queen Sona.”

  “Ah, you’re from Princess Anastasia.” At their surprised expressions, he explained, “Word of your search has spread. It is the young princess’ hope to establish communication with the High Council, correct?”

  Norden frowned. “How do you know this?”

  “I’ve come across members of your search parties in my travels.”

  Ericcen shared a look with his brothers. If this sorcerer knew of their search, surely the members of the High Council would, too. They just needed to find them.

  But it seemed Aelnold followed a separate train of thought entirely. “Your travels, you say?”

  Balan nodded. “I’ve been all over the kingdom.”

  “So you know whether Queen Sona is in this kingdom.”

  Balan grinned. “You’re a sharp one, friend. Aye, I do know. Queen Sona is, in fact, in this kingdom. And I can take you to her.”

  “What do you want in return?”

  �
��What say you to making a trade of sorts?”

  Ericcen looked between his brother and Balan. From a read on the sorcerer’s emotions, he seemed genuine. There was nothing backhanded about this. He knew Norden was concerned, but Aelnold was certain.

  Ericcen stepped forward. “What do you want to trade?”

  “My sister’s been taken captive. I’ll need help rescuing her.”

  Aelnold held out his hand. “We help you rescue your sister, and you take us to Queen Sona.”

  Balan shook. “We have a deal.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A nastasia sat at the table in the gathering room, eating lunch with Lili while they discussed plans for the upcoming feast. Aleric had found some scrolls in the royal library detailing traditional customs in Bahail, and they were working on incorporating them into the feast. Thankfully, Master Blue had familiarized himself with most of the foods that grew in the city, so his fare had much improved.

  As the door to the castle opened, the two guards stationed at the door to the gathering room barred the entrance. Upon seeing Mohan rushing forward, they stood aside. He barreled into the room, breathless and radiating excitement. Anastasia looked up at him, surprised.

  “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “A way to find the Vatis!”

  Anastasia was speechless. After all this time, they were finally taking definitive steps towards going home. She couldn’t quite believe it. It felt like she’d been searching for the Vatis her whole life.

  Mohan headed for the door. “Come on.”

  Getting to their feet, Anastasia and Lili hurried after him. William and Ryke followed. They all made their way out into the crisp autumn air, made bitter by the wind rising from the water. Hunching their shoulders, they headed round the side of the castle, to where Mohan had been working. To Anastasia’s surprise, there was his old, leather-bound grimoire, a crumpled map, a chalice, and a rather large, navy-colored apatite crystal.

  “What is all this?” Anastasia asked.

  Mohan grinned. “The things needed for a locator spell.”

  “Gods and Angels,” Lili breathed.

  Anastasia hesitated. Here was the chance to locate someone. And while she knew they needed to find the Vatis, to take the List from Chris, find the Ancients, and use their magic to return home, a part of her just wanted to find her mother.

  As though Mohan knew her train of thought, he gave her a sad smile. “I only have enough ingredients to find one person. And I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find everything I need a second time.”

  Anastasia understood; the Vatis was the priority. “How does it work?”

  “Here is a map of the kingdoms. In the chalice, I’ve added the ingredients needed for the spell. The last one I need is the blood from a Nadmilise with an ancient bloodline. As the Vatis was a product of the Gods and Angels, anyone with a line to them should be connected to the Vatis, too.”

  William held out his hand. “Take mine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “My family line can be traced back to the Warrior God, Humurse.”

  Anastasia couldn’t help but smile. She knew he was being chivalrous, offering to give his blood so that she wouldn’t have to. It was endearing.

  “Once the blood is added,” Mohan continued, “I read the incantation from the grimoire and we hold the amulet over the map. When it stops swinging, we should have the location of the Vatis.”

  Anastasia nodded her understanding. “Let’s do it.”

  Mohan turned to William. Gently, he pressed a ceremonial knife to his finger. Blood welled beneath the tip, and Mohan squeezed until enough blood gathered. When it dropped into the chalice, smoke puffed up from the swirling liquid within. Mohan breathed it in. After a moment, his eyes flew open, the icy blue irises clouded over by all white.

  He begun to chant in an ancient sorcerer tongue, holding the amulet over the map. “Elu gedulah, l’azor lanu l’matzo et h’matus ha’elohí. Azor lanu l’atar utu.”

  His body grew rigid and the amulet stopped swinging. Directly beneath the amulet, a navy-blue dot appeared on the map. Anastasia peered at it; it was still in Irichat gol Naingeliar, but farther north. The Vatis was in the Nadmilise kingdom.

  Mohan stopped chanting; his eyes returned to their normal color. “So, the Vatis is in a city called Armol.”

  “Well?” Anastasia got to her feet. “Shall we go?”

  Ryke frowned. “We have no idea what this city of Armol is like.”

  “But the Vatis is there.”

  “We need to prepare before we go, my Princess.”

  William frowned. “He’s right, Anastasia.”

  Groaning, Anastasia relented. She knew they were right, but the less time they spent here in the Old World, the less time Joey had to accomplish whatever he wanted. They were so close to the Vatis she could taste it. But she knew it wouldn’t do any of them good to go blindly into a possibly dangerous situation. For all they knew, the Vatis was with Joey. Ryke and William were right, they needed to prepare.

  As Mohan tossed the contents of the chalice onto the rocks, Anastasia headed back inside. Rubbing her hands against the chill, she entered the gathering room. To her surprise, Aleric stood within, waiting for her.

  He inclined his head. “Afternoon, Anastasia, Lili.”

  “Afternoon, Aleric,” Anastasia replied. “What brings you here?”

  “I have news, about the Vatis.”

  Mohan chuckled. “As a matter of fact, so do we.”

  “We found a location,” Anastasia explained.

  Aleric nodded, taking this in stride. “Well, I have some history that might be of use.”

  They all sat at the table, and Aleric splayed a number of scrolls on the table. Anastasia studied them, able to make out most of their contents after the weeks of studying the Old Language.

  “You see, Bahail is not the ancestral home of Nadmilise royalty. A small part of the Nadmilise royal family moved to the castle in Bahail in the early thirteenth century. The rest of the family lived in the actual royal city of Armol.”

  Mohan leaned forward. “Armol.”

  Aleric nodded. “One and the same, I expect.”

  “Why did they move?” Anastasia asked.

  “They were at war with the demigods. So, the Queen and her daughter moved here to Bahail, while the rest of their family remained behind in Armol.”

  Lili frowned. “What does this have to do with the Vatis?”

  “The castle of Bahail was said to be inhabited by a woman with the power to communicate with the Gods and Angels and learn about the nature of reality.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They called this woman the Vatis.”

  Anastasia gasped. The Vatis had lived in the castle. The Vatis would’ve needed to have been protected during the war, so it would make sense for them to come to this castle, to hide. Did that mean she was wearing the clothes of the Vatis? Sleeping in the Vatis’ bed? Had the Vatis left something of theirs behind, a clue as to who the other Ancients were? It was all too much to consider.

  “That’s not all,” Aleric said. “It was discovered that the woman was none other than Queen Anarelia’s youngest daughter, Analynn.”

  Anastasia froze. “Youngest daughter?”

  Aleric nodded. “Anarelia had two daughters.”

  Gooseflesh erupted across Anastasia’s skin. Queen Anarelia had had the gift of premonitions; it was the only way a Nadmilise royal could have two children. Except, in the Old World, the people had known about the two children, instead of them being hidden as they currently were in the realms.

  Could the Vatis be passed down through the bloodline like the premonitions? If so, they needed to find Princess Analynn’s family tree. Perhaps, her current descendent was the person they were looking for, the one that was somewhere in Armol. She was frustrated that she knew nothing about the Queens of the First Realms. Their records didn’t extend so far back, outside of exceptional Queens that withstood the test o
f time.

  She pushed back from the table. “We need to go to Armol.”

  “We need to be prepared,” said William. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  “So grab some weapons, and let’s go.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  Ryke nodded. “We don’t know where the Vatis is within the city, nor do we even know who they are. For all we know, we might’ve sent them to Armol ourselves.”

  Anastasia shook her head. “If we wait, the Vatis could leave, and our chance will have gone. You do what you need to get ready to go. Grab whatever previsions you can carry, and whatever weapons won’t weigh you down. We’ll leave at first light.”

  With that, she made her way from the room. Heading upstairs, she pushed her way into her chambers. Aagney was within, napping peacefully. She just stared at him, hardly daring to believe that in twenty-four hours, they could have the Vatis and the List of Ancients. They would be one step closer to going home!

  But then she remembered the feast, and the people that needed her here in Bahail, and little Aagney. She couldn’t shirk her responsibilities. But at the same time, none of it would matter if they returned home. This was the right thing to do. And yet, she wasn’t sure what to do with Aagney. She couldn’t bring him along, could she? What if there was a fight, or some sort of attack? He could be injured, be killed! But she couldn’t just leave him in Bahail, either. She was his godmother. His parents had entrusted her with him.

  She resolved to bring him along, and at the first sign of danger, she would get him out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  D awn found Anastasia sitting anxiously on the edge of her bed, staring down at Aagney. Pulling him from his crib, she held him close and rubbed his back. There was something about going to Armol that felt momentous, like if they went there, there was no going back. It worried her, to bring an infant into that, but the thought of leaving him made her feel worse. She just kept reciting her promise to protect him should anything go south. But she couldn’t bear to put him down just yet.