by Cara Violet
“They’re missing,” Owen’s voice was commanding, he was up on his feet returning to them, “I’ve searched the area,” he went on, slightly confused. “Your Sarinese friends are missing too, including my Daem-Raal friend.”
“Wait—” Nash said collapsing back under the undergrowth.
“What’s that smell?”
“Grab Nash,” Owen said to Everett, still sniffing the sticky air.
“What’s moving?” Cobalt leaves swung at Everett as he approached Nash’s last location.
“Get up out of the shrubbery now,” Darayan said to Archibel.
She was already making strides for a clearer section of forest and he shadowed her. Turning toward him, she noticed him release his hand from his pocket. He gave her a weak smile when he spotted her watching him.
“It stinks,” he said changing the subject.
“Get off me!” Nash’s voice came from the shrubbery. A large cobalt vine snaked up out of the bush like a whip and then submerging back down again.
Everett slashed his way through the animated vines; they threw flighty leaves back at him in retaliation.
“Be done with it, would you?” Owen said eyes still on the surrounds.
Archibel sniffed the stench that lingered and noticed just how untouched this forest really was. Everything was overgrown, ferns graced every direction she looked, and huge, straight russet and charcoal trees shot out huge palms. And it was humid, ridiculously hot—enough to warm their toes from the previous frost that had been attacking them.
“Where are we?” she said apprehensively to Darayan.
“I don’t know,” he said as another wail from Nash rattled from below.
“I’ve got him!” Everett called out, diving in and yanking his fellow Kinsmen Ranger’s head out of the shrubs.
“It burns!” Nash was up and ripping the suction of cobalt leaves and vines off of him.
“Pull!” Everett said through gritted teeth.
Archibel latched her fingers around the Everett’s sides as Darayan held her and they heaved backward, inch by inch, while Nash slid towards them, cut and scathed as he was.
“Where are the others?” Darayan said releasing Archibel when Nash was in the clear, his eyes still on the vines, now hissing and flailing.
“Don’t know,” Owen said.
“Where would they have ended up?” Archibel asked.
“I guess, because they spun the other way, perhaps to another place.”
“And where did we end up?” Everett said.
“Holom knows,” Nash said coughing on the ground. “But I’m gonna need a bath.”
Archibel exhaled a quiet laugh.
“The real work starts now,” Owen said releasing his blade from his holster.
The air had left her. Somehow Archibel sensed unsteady movement. It was almost untraceable but for the few shots of breeze whisking by her hair and cheeks. She inched closer to Darayan; never had she felt a more stable companion. His eyes met hers, he could feel the movement too and relied on her as she did him. He was her rock, a solid foundation of trust and friendship, just as she was his. And despite the mess they were in, despite scraping the bottom of the barrel on a world they’d never been to before, together, they were enough.
“Who’s that?” Archibel whispered to Darayan, who also readied his blade.
They were beasts to Archibel at first. Nonetheless the old myth about the ancient birds came to her quickly when the first of several stepped forward. Pointed, long ears, bleached eyes, and light grey hair against a porcelain complexion, and then huge feathery wings sprawled from the larger male’s back that signified the beast as anything more than an unhappy bird.
“Harpies,” Darayan whispered, raising his arms. “Just surrender,” he said firmly, to her and then to Owen, who grudgingly nodded.
Archibel holstered her blade and brushed Darayan’s shoulder, intertwining her pinky finger with his before the Harpies took him. He squeezed it, sending confidence shooting through her veins: he had a plan.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Old Friends
Giving Archibel false hope wasn’t something Darayan was in the business of doing, but she was eyeing him every second, waiting for him to spring into action and get them out of this mess. None of his ideas had worked. And despite Darayan’s and Owen’s failed attempts to converse with the Harpies about the possible Aquamorphs invasion since they were captured, the five of them were dragged helplessly through the forest.
“What do you think they think we’re trying to say?” Everett said.
“Probably to die,” Nash said.
“Just shut up, you two,” Owen whispered in command.
“Plus d’intrus!” The huge warrior harpy called.
Darayan, his legs dragging behind him as two Harpies hauled him along the path, heard thunderous calls as they approached wherever they were going. Gravel walkways met his feet and small stone houses came into view.
“Plus d’intrus!” Again, the huge harpy called, picking up his walking pace through the little village and thereby hurrying the Harpies that followed him, dragging the captives along. “Se rendre à l’amphithéâtre!”
In his periphery, Darayan saw a tall harpy woman step toward Archibel; he fought against his captors, trying to get a few more paces in front of her. The gravel scrabbled under his feet. He perhaps moved no more than an inch. He heard one of his captors laughing.
“Zere are more ze-form?” the woman asked Archibel.
“Help us,” Archibel said to her. The harpy woman, who was dressed in a combat-looking vest only shook her head and strode for the bigger male.
“Daramid,” she began, but was cut off by a snarl from the brute. The two continued to converse, too low for Darayan to catch anything.
“Stay quiet,” he shot to Archibel, who was looming alongside him. They had escorted her upright and she was hopelessly trying to get the attention of the harpy woman. “Leave it alone,” he urged again. She only shook her head and focused back on the woman. Despite her diplomatic nature, seeking compromise whenever she could over warfare, now was not the time to pry compassion out of the only harpy she thought might offer it, just because Archibel could relate to her.
The noise and cheer continued as their bodies were hauled into a very large amphitheatre. Stone like the rest of the small village houses, the amphitheatre sunk into the ground on a diagonal, and all the way around its interior there was seating.
“You, ze intruder,” the harpy woman spoke to Archibel. They were released from their captors into the centre of the stadium and forced to their knees. All the while hundreds of raucous Harpies flooded the stands to witness them.
“It was unintentional, believe me,” Archibel said in a relaxed tone. “We come to warn you.”
A haunting growl came from the warrior male again and the young harpy woman bowed and stepped back. “You are in ze hands of all now.”
Darayan scanned Owen’s face: perplexed and uncertain. What exactly did the Harpies have planned for them?
The male leader continued to speak to their people in his native tongue.
As his long, straight white hair bounced down his back, Daramid’s nostrils flared, blowing air down his bare, muscled chest. Darayan frowned at the beast’s anger. Perhaps he was tiring of unannounced visitors? From his knees, Darayan glanced up at the warrior; he wore a thick brown leather skirt that hung to his knees, a few sheathed daggers and blades at each side and a strap across his torso holding a quiver full of arrows. If they ran, would this harpy send an arrow to their backs? Most likely. The harpy warrior was built like a machine and Darayan didn’t like their chances of escape.
“They will be here,” Owen yelled as the thud of footsteps approaching him grew, “the Aquamorphs are coming for you—”
Daramid’s backhand silenced Owen. The beast inhaled like an angry animal, snarling as Owen got back to his knees from the stone floor.
Another roar from Daramid blew Owen’s hair and coat back
but then the beast suddenly stilled. Darayan noticed the whole crowd stilled.
Searching the thousands in the crowd, Darayan was sure something out of the ordinary had just happened. After a few moments of silence and a growing cry, a young harpy came scurrying down the steps of the amphitheatre, through the crowd, screaming. Yanking their little index finger in the direction they came. Daramid straightened.
The screech from the male harpy was so loud Darayan almost buckled over in fright.
Within another instant, the Harpies began moving about in chaos.
“Ow,” Nash exclaimed as the Harpies scooped him up and dragged him in the direction the little harpy had pointed. One by one the Harpies seized them all, and accompanying the whole crowd, which Darayan suspected was the entire city, they went in the direction of the commotion.
“What’s going on?” Everett said to Archibel over the noise.
“Something has happened,” she replied, “maybe they found the others?”
Darayan’s skull was pounding wildly; in the stampede he’d been beaten a few times across the head.
“Perhaps they ended up on the others side of the planet?” he said.
On the ground, a thick furry lime and pink striped animal wagged its large, fluffy tail about. It’s face, short and stubby, sneezed out his black nose under two large, very circular pale blue eyes that squinted their way; only to then hop behind the two people escaping, hiding its three white horned and bent striped eared face.
But when Darayan looked up, a bouncing set of locks caught his eye. Those blonde locks all too familiar. When the taller blonde-haired male stepped aside, still shielding the girl he was trying to protect, Darayan’s heart raced even harder. It didn’t really look like her, not the young girl he remembered on Layos, but under that new glossy white hair, those eyes and concerned expression remained the same.
“Kaianan?” he said with downright intrigue.
Her eyes lit up and after a few short moments she smiled. He knew then—it was her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Harpooning the Harpy Capital
Archibel blinked in admiration. Studying the way Kaianan’s long, white blonde platinum hair shifted about after she’d hugged her, only shadowed the scars on her face and the woman she’d matured into under that. This girl, compared to the girl back on Layos, was by far changed. Even the way she stroked the odd stripy animal, the Dartanyan, to sleep and turned Archibel’s way, this Kaianan seemed in control.
And it wasn’t just in the change of hair colour, it was in her eyes, in her demeanour, in the way she simply was. A grown woman, a grown warrior, trained by the best in Dersji Brikin and now evolved. It probably helped she was suited in a harpy’s leather combat attire.
Yet here she was, along with the Kinsmen, and Darayan, being held in the Harpies’ confinement holes. Holes that were bare and sizeable, dug into the ground as spacious pits and closed over with wooden lattice.
“You look—” Archibel began, as Kaianan released her and brushed her off.
“It’s just the hair,” Kaianan said.
Archibel could see much more than that, and reminded her of the lack of faith the young princess had in herself during adolescence. But Kaianan’s eyes were now on Archibel’s own attire—she was still uncomfortably dressed in her damp Aquamorph ensemble.
“I was taken hostage,” Archibel said answering Kaianan’s stares as she sat down. Her eyes lingered to Darayan. “This dim-witted Sarinese Topazi saved me.”
“You know, a ‘thanks’ wouldn’t go astray,” Darayan said cheekily.
It was the way Kaianan stared hard at Darayan—as if questioning everything about him in that one moment and deciding she’d accept him no matter the odds or what his faults were—and then the way his face lit up when he returned her regard. It was in that instant that Archibel knew she could never compete with this connection they had. And in that moment for her, she knew she didn’t need to.
“Did you forget your own manners?” Kaianan’s face changed and she smirked at him as if to tell him off.
“Oh, Ka,” Darayan whisked by Archibel and scooped Kaianan up in a hug.
“Alright!” Kaianan shoved him off. “What have you two been doing anyway? How did you get here? I mean why—”
“Did we leave?” Archibel offered. The hole suddenly felt airless. Kaianan’s face dropped, as did Darayan’s, as they recalled the last instance the three of them were together: Daley’s funeral—and Darayan had been a sobbing mess.
“Now is not the time for a reunion,” Owen’s husky voice came.
“This is Kinsmen Ranger Owen,” Darayan said to Kaianan. “Owen, this is the Gorgon Princess—”
“Queen,” Kaianan cut him off. Archibel cocked her head uncertainly.
“Queen?” Darayan’s face contorted. “I was on Rivalex earlier, at the Manor, what happened to your parents—”
“Dead,” she confirmed, “at the hands of the Necromancers from Sile.”
No-one spoke for a minute. Archibel was lost for words. Kaianan didn’t seem affected at all when she spoke—what had this dear friend been through in the last four years? And why did Archibel ache to help her but could only sit there blank-faced and blinking? Her parents were dead?
“Queen of the Gorgons,” Owen said: perhaps he didn’t really understand the ramifications of what Kaianan had said or perhaps, coming from a line of royalty himself, he understood the strengths she called upon, “since we are both rulers of our worlds, I would like to know what you know about the Harpies and Conductors.”
“I don’t know much,” Kaianan admitted, not once giving in to Darayan and Archibel’s sorrowful looks. “Xandou told me the Conductors want to remain here, I was hoping to rescue them, set them back into their posts … how did you guys get here anyway?”
It seemed like so much to explain. Unable to find her voice, Archibel simply looked at Darayan, who also seemed tongue-tied.
On the other hand, Owen kept talking. First about how he met Darayan, and then about Adrian and the Aquamorphs, and finally how they tried to reason with the Harpies about an invasion despite the language barrier of Lingua Franca over the Felrin Vernacular.
Kaianan exhaled and scanned the Valendean’s face. “Do the Valendean follow the Vernacular?”
Owen paused before answering. “We’ve always believed in the Universal Order, so we speak Vernacular, and we follow the rules of the Felrin Congress.”
“So, do you think I will bring down the Universal Order, as the prophecy states? Or are you, like the Felrin, finally realising I can be of assistance?”
Archibel felt the tension building in Kaianan, but saw Owen was not going to back down.
“Are you going to try and kill me in my sleep?” Kaianan finally said in spite.
“Of course not,” Owen defended. “I may know who you are, Queen Kaianan, but by the Sarinese gods, I would never hold a few words in a prophecy as fact. And if the Felrin have cleared you, so have I.”
“Plus, he wouldn’t dare,” Darayan interrupted, before Kaianan could speak. Archibel also felt herself rising to protect Kaianan if anyone sought to hurt her. A loyalty the three of them had for each other a long time ago. Kaianan clearly didn’t appreciate Darayan’s defence though, she huffed and shot him livid eyes:
“Darayan,” she said crisply, “why did you and Archibel end up on Whidal?”
Archibel listened as Darayan relayed the story to Kaianan, her eyes never left his. It was amazing to Archibel to see the link between them.
Kaianan’s ears pricked up. “Did you just say Levon?”
“Aye,” Darayan confirmed, after explaining how Levon changed when Leera died.
“The Sprite, Levon?” she repeated. Heads nodded. “He was here, I mean not here but on Croone, he purchased Chituma off of Giliou Metrix. He was with the Daem-Raal and shot Boku Jove with an arrow to open Holom’s Door.”
Not knowing what to make of it, Archibel stayed silent—as they all did. While they had been pl
anet-hopping and she’d been stuck on Whidal with the Aquamorphs, Levon had been the one to open Holom’s Door and let the Defeated King out on that forsaken planet Croone.
Kaianan went on, irately, and Owen kept her steady, reminding her that he too had family.
“Dersji told me this is how it works,” she said when she found civility again. “The Defeated King removes the gatekeepers and slowly builds an army of Pernicious out of preforms.”
Archibel hated the thought.
But she hated it more when Kaianan mentioned the half-man, half-dragon was intoxicating her sleep.
“Back to the plan,” Darayan interjected at all the stares Kaianan was receiving.
Archibel let the notion slide also. In a few minutes, a decision was reached: they’d work towards escape and then follow Kaianan to Earth. They’d find a way to stop the Defeated King before he took over the galaxy—if not the universe.
“Get to sleep, all of you,” Darayan finally said walking away from them to one end of the confinement. Owen found a remote corner to lay down.
Archibel got up to move toward Darayan, but thought the better of it. It was Kaianan who she was most concerned about: “Come sit with me.”
Kaianan nodded and moved closer.
“How have you been?” Archibel said as Kaianan sat down.
“I don’t know what to say, Arch.”
“Well it’s been three, four years; you look different.”
“Since when did you fancy Darayan—”
Heat filled her face. “How did you know?”
“The way you both look at each other.”
“I’ve always loved him, Kaianan,” Archibel’s heart beat irregularly, but it was good to finally express her feelings to an old friend. Someone she could trust. “Ever since we were children, I’ve loved him. But he doesn’t think the same … what you see is the way I look at him. I think he loves you.”
“Ha!” Kaianan snorted. “He’s an old sparring buddy to me, same as Xandou.”
Archibel pulled her hair back and smiled, but not for a second did she think Darayan considered Kaianan simply a friend. Not that Xandou did, either. Just speaking of her childhood friends bought memories back about her second home.
