Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle)

by Jones, Krystle

  That was as much as she could assess at first. Her mind was far too groggy to try to analyze what had just happened.

  What had just happened?

  With sand plastered to the side of her face, Lian tried lifting her head and promptly set it back down as a wave of nausea hit her.

  Come on. Think!

  She had wandered through the woods because she couldn’t sleep, and by chance had come upon the river, a welcome savior to her unquenchable thirst. But then what? She closed her eyes as her stomach turned, fighting back the bile rising in her throat. Why did she feel so sick? Was it something in the water? She had always believed running water to be about the purest out there, but then again, she knew next to nothing of surviving in the wilderness.

  “I shall take good care of it.”

  It was as if she had been zapped by a bolt of lightning. There had been a voice, syrupy sweet. “There was something I wanted back,” Lian mumbled in broken syllables.

  It was difficult to form a coherent thought, let alone voice what she was thinking. Both her body and mind felt incredibly exhausted, and all she wanted to do was to go back to sleep to that dreamy melody weaving through the air.

  Her eyes popped open.

  Someone was singing to her, a familiar tune she had heard only in her dreams when she was a child. It was soft and flowing, its gentle melody weaving through the sleepy trees and then back again, wrapping itself around her senses and beckoning them to return to slumber.

  Warning bells went off in the back of her head. “This isn’t right,” said the dream voice. “You must stay fast if you are to keep what is rightfully yours. Do not give in!”

  Something black and shiny flashed out of the corner of her eye. Lian slowly turned her chin downward, and her eyes widened.

  Protruding from the water was a single blue-green hand with long glossy black nails. Its fingers were wrapped around the teardrop.

  The jewel began to pulse white, almost as if it was agitated at being touched, but it did not strike out as she thought it would have.

  Rowan said it burned the murdel. Why isn’t it burning this creature?

  Bewildered, Lian clumsily scrambled away as fast as she could manage in her drugged state, snatching the teardrop away from those awful, webbed fingers. She crawled backward along the shore until only her feet were in the water. She tried unsuccessfully to stand, losing her balance several times as the world spun around her.

  The moment she regained her footing, another scaly hand reached out of the water and dug its nails into her ankle. She yelped in surprise, falling on her back as it yanked her forward.

  What the –

  The thought stopped short, and she cried out in shock when she looked up.

  There was a person in the river, or at least the shape of a person. Its skin was shiny and wet like a fish. From what she could tell, its upper body was shaped like that of a human, only it had two small slits for a nose and broad gills where ears should have been.

  “What do you want?” Lian asked, not taking her eyes off it.

  “Shhhhhhhaaaaahhhhrrraaaaahhhhhh,” it gurgled.

  Her pendant pulsed in time with her fluttering heart. “What?”

  “Shhhhaaaahhhrrrraaaahhhh,” it repeated, its sinuous voice changing into a beautiful melody. Immediately, Lian felt the heavy pull of sleep as the creature sang. White fog danced at the corner of her eyes.

  “You did this,” she gasped, clutching at the teardrop. Almost instantly, the pull of sleep lessened, and her senses cleared.

  The song abruptly stopped. Lian pried one eye open to find the creature staring at the teardrop with wild longing. Its grip tightened to an almost painful degree around her ankle as it leaned closer, pulling her farther into the water.

  “Shahrah,” it said, followed by a winding stream of syllables she had never heard before.

  “This?” Lian lifted the teardrop with two fingers. “Is this what you want?”

  Its eyes widened, and its huge fish lips parted slightly as it moaned with desire.

  Lian glanced at the white crystal dangling from her fingertips. First Vishka, now this creature. What’s so special about this?

  She looked back to the creature. Its body shimmered as it turned into pure water, rolling and turning in on itself. Before she knew what happened, it crushed her ankle and jerked her forward. An agonized scream slipped from her throat as she slid across the bank into the water.

  She clawed at the dirt as the thing drug her farther into the river, but the creature maintained its vice-like grip. She kicked out but to no effect. Her foot passed right through it.

  “Help!” she shouted. “Vishka! Rowan! Anybody!”

  The water-woman hissed, its face materializing just long enough to flash a row of small pointy black teeth. Lian was close enough now to see the crystal reflected in its soulless black eyes. She could feel the water around her chest. In a few minutes, she would be totally submerged.

  Her hand brushed something hard, and she turned her head. It was a rock, just out of her reach. She leaned over, nudging it with her fingertips until it was close enough to grab. She swung it hard at the creature’s head, but her hand passed straight through. The sudden forward momentum was all the creature needed to pull her completely into the water.

  The creature quickly overpowered her, dragging her under before she could barely get a sip of air. She fought against it, clutching the crystal as she bucked wildly, but it didn’t make any difference. This creature was not whole the way a human or murdel was whole. It was made from something else entirely, almost as if a piece of the river had come to life.

  It grappled with her, the force of the water crushing her small body to the bottom of the river. Her lungs burned for oxygen, and white spots fired before her eyes. Though all she wanted to do was panic, she forced herself to stopped struggling in order to conserve oxygen.

  Help me! If there are gods, please help me out of this!

  Suddenly, the water erupted into a flash of brilliant white light, and the pressure eased, enough that she could swim to the surface. Those terrible black eyes and claws vanished, chased away by the warm white light coming from the crystal.

  Lian desperately held onto consciousness as she kicked downward, pushing her body up.

  Keep kicking. Keep swimming.

  She had swam before, when she was younger, in the garden fountain. Her governess had quickly put an end to that.

  Her will was growing weaker, but the water around her lightened with the sun’s first light as she drew closer to the surface, giving her hope.

  When she surfaced, she gulped for air and flailed her arms and feet around, trying to stay afloat. The current had picked up, pulling her faster around the bend. She didn’t recognize anything around her, meaning she must be much farther down the river.

  “Rowan! Vishka!”

  A massive rumbling swallowed up her hoarse voice. It was steadily growing louder.

  She squinted her eyes as her head bobbed in and out of the rapids. In the distance, it looked like the river dropped into the sky.

  And that’s when she realized the horrible truth.

  It was a waterfall.

  ***

  ROWAN AWOKE TO HER screams filling the forest. Rolling over with a start, he turned his head to find only a rumpled blanket a few feet beside him.

  Lianora.

  He stood up so fast that his vision spotted and his head swam. He staggered around, straining to hear the screams again as his head cleared. Then he heard it again, and without looking for Vishka, he took off through the forest.

  Thorny plants cut at his calves, and he stumbled more than once on exposed roots and hidden vines. All he could hear was her screams. He heard something cutting through the brush behind him and caught a flash of black hair from the corner of his eye.

  Vishka bounded beside him. “The river,” she said and slipped past him. His eyes widened as she pulled farther ahead.

  Gods, she’s fast, he t
hought as he felt a branch claw at his face. It burned as he passed, and a second later something hot and wet dripped down his cheek.

  The sounds of running water drew closer as he followed Vishka, now no more than a speck. Every muscle in his body ached and protested, but he kept going. Lianora’s face flashed before his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. “Come on, come on.”

  When he first broke through the trees, all he saw was a river flowing to the east. Vishka stood on the riverbank, flagging him over.

  “This way!” she called, and he bounded after her back into the trees. They ran alongside the river, which was growing wider and more turbulent. Ahead of him, Lian screamed again, only louder this time. “Hold on, Lianora!” he yelled, praying she could hear him.

  He turned the bend, and the trees opened up. That’s when he saw her, her little blonde head bobbing up and down in the white surf.

  “Lianora!” he yelled, racing to the water’s edge. “Keep trying to swim toward the bank! I’m coming!”

  He stretched his arms over his head, prepping to dive in, when Vishka grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t,” she said. “You’re no match for those rapids.”

  He shook his head, his heartbeat making him nauseous. “We have to pull her out.”

  Vishka ran over to a nearby tree and snapped off a long branch. “Here.” She tossed it to him. He ran alongside Lian on the shore. “Try to swim this way!” he called, running ahead of her.

  Lian looked exhausted from fighting the current, but she gave it her all, kicking and stroking with everything she had left. She was only a few feet from the riverbank now.

  He dropped to his knees and extended the branch. “Grab on!” he yelled, stretching his arm as far as it would go.

  Lian lunged, and for a brief moment, they made contact; however, her hand was too wet, and it slipped from the branch. He watched in horror as her small body was lost to the white foam of the rolling waves.

  “She’s going to go over!” he yelled, looking to Vishka and back again.

  Just as he turned his head, Lian screamed, and he watched, powerless, as she tumbled over the waterfall into the air.

  CHAPTER 22Dracor

  “NO!” ROWAN SCREAMED, STOPPING short of the cliff’s edge.

  Vishka ran to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, shouting, “There’s nothing more you can do!”

  He panted hard, his brown eyes darting every which way as they searched the pool below. It was a long drop, several hundred feet or so, that ended in a bed of jagged black rocks. Even if she survived the fall…

  He doubled over and vomited.

  Vishka squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He retched for so long that he almost missed the flapping of wings and the bone-chilling screech of an enormous black creature that swooped above them and dove into the falls. A shower of oily black feathers fell around them. A second later, it emerged from the cascading water with a sagging body in its talons.

  Lianora.

  “No,” he breathed.

  Not him. Anyone but him.

  Water sprayed from its wings as it gained altitude, floating on the wind that coursed through the ravine until it disappeared down the river.

  His body sagged to the ground. “I failed her.” His voice shook. “I… I promised…” A thousand emotions welled up inside of him.

  He clenched his fists and screamed as hard as he could until his voice was raw. His scream echoed around the valley, finally fading away altogether. The sky was growing brighter, turning from a pale blue to a vibrant orange as the sun crested the horizon.

  Vishka growled, and he jumped. She had been so quiet he had forgotten she was there.

  “A Dracor.” Her voice was sharp as a blade. “I thought they could not enter Dreaka’s Forest. It’s sacred land.”

  He stumbled to his feet. “This must be the edge of the forest,” he said, dipping his hand into the water and running it over his mouth.

  She nodded and shielded her eyes as sunlight poured into the valley. “If you’re done, we need to go,” she said. “Tracking it will be hard enough without it gaining half a day’s lead on us because you couldn’t control your stomach.”

  Rowan looked back at the river as she stalked away from him, still seeing Lian’s tiny body in the claws of the gigantic winged beast.

  He closed his eyes. “Please be alive,” he whispered.

  Then he entered the woods after Vishka, silently praying the monster was not who he thought it was. Otherwise, things were about to get very complicated and very ugly.

  ***

  THERE ARE NO WORDS to describe the sensation of flying, of the crisp breeze in her face, how the trees raced away from her bare feet, and of how the morning sun glinted in her eyes as if she was one with the sky. Something sharp dug into her back, but her body was so cold and numb that she didn’t notice it as more than a prick. She couldn’t feel it; she couldn’t feel much of anything.

  Her mind dipped in and out of consciousness in much the same way the creature that carried her swooped through the air. She would be coasting along one moment only to dive back into the darkness at another.

  It was so hard to breathe, like she had swallowed sand. Her back was resting on a cool stone slab, and she was surrounded by darkness, only it wasn’t completely in her mind this time. She could barely make out the sun and the mountain peaks through the wide gaping hole to her right.

  Her head lolled from side to side, and when she thought a moan might escape her chapped lips, she choked on her own breath.

  She felt pressure on her chest in rhythmic intervals. Someone said her name. The voice was low pitched, but that was all she could make out. Two large hands squeezed on her chest until at last her throat erupted with water.

  Someone tilted her head to the side so that, when she coughed, the water passed onto the table instead of back into her throat. The pressure in her lungs began to ease, though it was still difficult to breathe. Her throat felt raw, and she could only draw breath in short, thin rasps. She closed her eyes, suddenly very tired.

  She was aware of a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette standing against the morning light.

  Who are you? she wanted to ask, but her body would not let her. She wandered into an exhausted sleep.

  ***

  THE SUN WAS HIGH in the sky by the time they stopped to rest for any substantial amount of time. Rowan had traced its pattern with his eyes all morning and into the afternoon, pushing himself to keep going until he absolutely had to have a break longer than five minutes.

  “Please, stop,” he called breathlessly to Vishka. He suspected she was intentionally keeping her pace in check so he could keep up, but it wasn’t enough. His side was killing him, and his stomach rolled with every jarring step he took.

  When Vishka actually paused a few feet in front of him, he nearly collapsed with relief.

  He bent over, willing his wobbly legs to hold him up, and breathed deeply. With each breath, his side felt like it might split in two, and he groaned. “Don’t you ever tire or grow hungry?” he said between breaths.

  Vishka stood perfectly still, an unnerving ability of hers, with her head cocked to the side as she studied a hazy mountain in the distance. She tilted her head slightly, listening for something his human ears could not pick up.

  “Tch. Fine. Don’t answer me. You haven’t said a word this entire time. Why should I expect different now?” He glared at her and gingerly straightened his spine, stretching his arms over his head to loosen his taut torso.

  She muttered something in a foreign tongue and said, “We’re close.” She pointed in front of her. “That mountain is where the Dracor took her. She’s still alive.”

  He leaned to the right and stretched his thigh. “How do you know?”

  “I can hear her heartbeat.”

  Rowan nodded. This was good, far better than he had hoped for, and the fear he had kept silent faded a bit. But he couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable grumbling in his stoma
ch. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I don’t know about you, but I have to eat. May I suggest we take a break to rest and sate our hunger? And by our hunger, I mean my hunger.”

  He looked up. Vishka was gone.

  Brows furrowed, he glanced around him. Where did she go? “Unreasonable hag.”

  Something smacked him in the back of the head. “Ow!” His hand flew to his head, and he whirled around to find an enormous golden ball with red spots lying at his feet. He kneeled to examine it.

  “I trust you’re acquainted with moon fruit.”

  Rowan fixed Vishka with a sharp look. She was sauntering toward him with an armful of the bulbous fruits. “Yes,” he growled, snatching up the fruit. “But couldn’t you have just handed it to me like a civilized human being?”

  “Oh, now how much fun would that be? Here.” She shoved another fruit into his hands, along with a hefty tankard. “Eat. Drink. Do whatever mundane things your mortal body requires. But don’t take too long. We haven’t much time.”

  She leaned against a tree while Rowan plopped down on the ground and greedily devoured the fruit. It was tangy and sweet at the same time. Thick, red juices dribbled down his stubbled chin. He’d had moon fruit before. It grew sporadically in patches throughout Dreaka’s Forest. Growing up near the woods, his mother had always kept a basketful on the table.

  They ate in silence, passing off the tankard but never once talking. After about an hour had passed and the food had settled, Rowan stood up and stretched. Though sore, he could feel some of his strength returning. “That was actually kind of wonderful,” he said, taking a huge breath of air. “I think I’m good to keep going.”

  “About time,” Vishka said. Then she was gone again.

  Rowan swore under his breath and sprinted after her. He wanted to find Lianora as badly as Vishka, but he couldn’t ignore how his body ached every time his feet hit the ground.

  He heard his father’s voice in the back of his mind. “You’re weak, a pathetic excuse for a soldier, and the poorest Black Knight I ever saw.”