by W. J. May
“Wind,” she whispered, “what is your story? Why do you tell me what I already know?” She gazed down at her beloved city, and in the scented whiffs she sensed that there was an air of ordinariness that had seeped in through the forests of Everlore. In the calmness around her, her ears caught the slight sound of movement, footsteps making their way to her chambers.
Company was coming up the stairs. She tilted her head and listened.
Wesley.
The shuffling of the heavy boots on the stairs indicated it could be no other. Wesley stood nearly seven-feet-tall, his shoulders lined diagonally to his chest in a way that made it look as if his muscles hung on his shoulders like two full moons hung in the wide night sky. Lenore smiled. He could not tread lightly on the narrow stairs. She pictured him before he came through the door.
His chin was narrow, sharp and pointed, and the edges of his cheeks were wide. His skin was almost a hued mixture of orange and bronze. His black eyes, with an iris that took up most of the area of his eyes, were unreadable—to most.
No one would argue he was a very strong man, even though his broad shoulders and masculine arms were almost always cloaked. He wore a maroon-colored cloak that draped behind him and a hood on his head that covered his bent neck and head. His movement was quite slow, and he walked around as if time was nonexistent, an illusion. He carried a long wooden stick that was a foot taller than him. In its center, a flame flickered in a cylindrical and transparent, candle-like compartment.
Lenore smiled as she heard him slam his staff on the floor, announcing his presence to her. She could almost see him eyeing the crescent moon on the outside of her door, a carving that mesmerized nearly everyone who laid eyes on it.
She waited.
A low humming sounded outside her door. Even though the rhythmic sound was soft, the depth of Wesley’s voice had the door slightly shake. A soft wind blew, pulling the door open, as if the gusts had hands of their own and were welcoming the large man in. Lenore stood on the opposite side of the room, facing the dark green desk, her back to Wesley.
“Greetings, Lenore.” His voice always sounded deep and raspy. It echoed when he spoke, but the echoes weren’t the product of the acoustics of the room the voice reflected in, for even in the forests his voice would echo and resonate. It was a voice that demanded attention, respect.
“Greetings, Wesley,” Lenore said softly. “You bear news for me?”
“Three of them,” he replied.
“Hmmm, we have visitors,” she murmured, “or intruders?”
“They’ve come from Calen,” Wesley said as he walked into the room. “From the south.”
“I know where it is. Our dear wind has been howling from the south for weeks now.”
Wesley turned to his left and then back at the wall next to the door. He slammed his stick on the wooden floor and the cracks crawled round the perimeter of the room as the crescent moon on the red book shone bright.
When he turned towards her, she was facing him and her grey eyes pierced his. The light from the book was reflected in his eyes. She approached him, and his head leaned down and his back bent forward. His eyes hid behind the hood of his cloak and his lips trembled slightly.
“Have you greeted our very special guests, my dear Wesley?” Lenore asked as she looked up. Even though his head hung low, it was still at least two feet above her.
“Yes,” he said, and his deep voice ceased its echoing. He hesitated before he said, “My queen. They’re in the prison cell below.”
“Wonderful,” she said as a brief smile stretched her bowed lips and she clapped her hands. The wind howled as it slipped through the window again. “And did you leave the keys inside?”
He nodded. “The keys are in the cell, and the door to the labyrinth is on the verge of being opened.”
Chapter 12
It seemed darker than Wesley’s eyes in the prison cell.
Ryan would kick the big oaf’s butt if he were here.
Atlanta shivered at the thought. She hadn’t thought of Ryan in days, and the image of the last time she’d seen him came shattering back through her memory. Her heart felt different than her brain. She felt betrayed by him and at the same time... Stop! she told herself. Focus on right now. Get your bearings. Figure out where you are and how to get out. She inhaled a deep breath and gagged.
It reeked of death and centuries of decay. The scent of the dew, though physically closer to the prison cells than whatever was upstairs, didn’t adorn the stench that engulfed the cell’s air.
Atlanta squinted but couldn’t see anything except a small light of the moon, a single ray that shone on the ground right at her feet. She couldn’t tell if anyone else was in the cell with her, and was too scared to reach out into the darkness to feel around. Who knew what was in here with her. A corpse? A mangled monster? A hungry Vampire? Nothing seemed too promising.
Whose idea had it been to come here anyway? Definitely not mine.
Then she heard ragged breathing and nearly jumped out of her skin. Someone was here with her. Or something. It took her a moment to realize the ragged breathing was coming from her. She nearly laughed but it came out sounding more like a sob.
She glanced up at the prison cell window, a slit in an obliquely translucent sheet that allowed the light to enter in a single rectangular ray. It was so far above her, she doubted she’d be able to reach it. She tried to move her body and pain shot through every limb, making her draw in a sharp breath.
“Yeah, that won’t work.”
Atlanta ignored her uncle, slowly pushing herself off the cold floor, wincing in pain. Once she had herself in a sitting position, she leaned her back against the wall and tried to regulate her breathing. Something warm trickled down her shoulder, and when she felt for it she pulled her hand back immediately, scorching fire burning through her. The warm trickle was now blood on her fingertips. She let her head fall back and bit back the tears. Her shoulder hurt and—
“I told you,” James said from beside her. “You’re too emotional.”
“Not now,” Atlanta snapped.
But he did have a point.
They had made their way out of Calen with little trouble, a single sentry of Vampires their only obstacle; one Darian had quickly dispensed of with a blast of green flames. Atlanta found it odd Darian and Raul knew where the tunnels ended, but she’d argued to herself that Adelaide had probably placed sentries at every road leading into and out of Calen. The witch had the city on lockdown, with no one leaving and no one coming in.
Except the tunnels. Adelaide somehow didn’t know about the tunnels. Yet.
It took them less than an hour to reach Everlore. Once they were near the town, they abandoned their bikes and decided to make their way into it through the forests. It had been Atlanta’s idea, one she had thought wise since they didn’t want to attract any attention. Stupid idea.
She hadn’t expected the ambush of guards. She also hadn’t expected the large man who greeted them to be so quick, so dangerous.
“Even Darian was pretty useless,” James said. “Why do you think that is?”
Atlanta shook her head and winced. All she knew was that she was locked away somewhere, and she had no idea where the others were.
A rattling of chains made her head snap up. This time she ignored the pain. Through the dim light she made out a shadow in the far corner of the cell. Her first instinct was to reach for her sword, but her hand grasped only air.
Of bloomin’ course. They took away my weapons.
The rattling sounded again, and she slowly pushed herself up onto her feet. She swayed a second before resting a hand against the wall to gather her wits. The light from the moon seemed to shift and the brightness in the cell increased slightly, pushing the shadows further away. Her eyes fell on a small podium in the center of the cell, the shape of a crescent moon, like the window, carved into the stone. Her eyes moved past the podium and came to rest on the silhouette hanging from the opposite wall,
arms held high by chains that disappeared into the darkness behind it.
Atlanta pushed away from the wall and made her way towards the shadowy figure, slowly, making sure she stayed out of the moonlight.
“Careful,” James warned from behind her.
But she didn’t need to be. “I know,” she told him.
Darian?
He gazed at her, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to speak, but words weren’t coming out of his mouth. He rattled his chains in frustration, and in the darkness his blue eyes seemed to glow. He was hurt, probably worse than she was.
Atlanta rushed to him, reaching for the chains just as he fell to his knees. She wrapped her arms around his tight waist, trying to steady him, and a sudden scorching light pierced through her mind.
Suddenly she was in a house, surrounded by a beautiful warm light, the smell of incense in the air. She blinked repeatedly, trying to understand where she was, oblivious to her surroundings. A loud crash made her turn around quickly, and she came face to face with Adelaide.
Atlanta felt her heart skip a beat as she stared into the angry eyes of the witch. A green halo surrounded her, burning as if aflame, stretching out and recoiling as Adelaide charged forward. Atlanta raised her hands in defense but the witch passed through her, as if she weren’t there.
This is a dream.
She turned around and raced after Adelaide. The witch disappeared into another room, and a sudden blast of green light burst around her. The warm light was gone, and in the darkness Atlanta watched Adelaide reach out and grab someone, a woman. There was a struggle and, as Atlanta watched in horror, the witch pulled a knife out from her cloak and stabbed the woman repeatedly, green fire burning through the room.
Atlanta withdrew from the heat.
It can’t hurt me. This isn’t even real.
But it didn’t change the fact that the green light burned her. She fell against a wall, scurrying away from the flames, finding her way under a table where the fire couldn’t reach her.
Beside her, hiding in the same small space, was a boy. He turned and looked at her, blue eyes gazing into hers. His mouth opened and a shrill scream escaped.
Atlanta jolted, falling backwards and hitting her head against the cold surface. The world around her swam in and out of focus, and she struggled to keep the darkness from enveloping her completely. She blinked several times and rolled onto her side, trying to fight through the blur, realizing that she was back in the cell.
“What did you do?”
Atlanta turned and saw Darian staring at her, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. Even in the darkness she could see his look of pure astonishment. His face was a mirror of the fear in his eyes, and for a moment she wondered if she was still in the dream. She blinked and focused. No, she was inside the cell and Darian’s expression was scaring her.
“Wh-What?” Atlanta stammered.
“What did you do?” Darian shook the chains, jumping to his feet in renewed fury as he fought to break free.
“I didn’t do anything!”
He fought against the iron clasped around his wrists. “Get me out of these,” he said angrily.
Atlanta pushed to her feet and rushed forward, examining the chains. “I don’t know how.”
“Figure it out!” Darian hissed.
She suddenly felt keeping him chained would probably be better. She took a step back and gazed into Darian’s furious blue eyes. “You saw it, too, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She wasn’t going to let up. “The vision. The one with Adelaide and the little boy. You saw it, too.”
Darian seemed to slump, and his head dropped. “Atlanta,” he started, his voice level and more in control. “I have no idea what you saw, but right now we have more serious issues at hand. The first of which is getting me out of these chains so we can find a way out of this cell.”
“You haven’t answered my question.” Atlanta crossed her arms over her chest.
Darian huffed and shook his chains. “Because your question leads to nothing that’ll help us now. How about we get out of here first, and then we’ll talk about what you think you did or didn’t see?”
Atlanta held his gaze, contemplating whether to let the matter drop. A part of her was curious, and a little voice in the back of her head urged her to grab him again. To try to see more of the vision before she had been so abruptly pushed out.
James cleared his throat behind her.
“Fine. I know. I know,” she muttered, and moved forward, grabbing the first cuff and frowning as she tried to figure out how to open it.
“Darian?” a voice coughed from behind her.
Atlanta spun around, searching the shadows for the voice’s owner.
“Raul?” Darian called out, his neck arching as he looked behind Atlanta.
“Yup,” Raul replied, his voice hoarse.
“Where are you?”
“Chained,” Raul replied, his anger apparent in his voice. “Apparently only one of us is free to move.”
Atlanta squinted, and in the deep shadows to her left, she could barely make out Raul’s outline. Suddenly, a flash of an image formed before her eyes. “The crescent,” she whispered.
“What?”
She turned to Darian. “On the podium. There’s a crescent. That’s the key. It’ll unlock—”
Chains rattled again cutting her off. “You’re sure?” Raul asked.
“No. I’m not,” Atlanta said. “Or maybe I am. I can’t explain it. But I have this feeling...”
“Can we go on anything other than your feelings?” Raul coughed. “The last time we took suggestions from you, well, you know what happened.”
Atlanta turned to Darian, who only shrugged. “My magic is useless. I can’t call upon it to do us any good. I believe it’s the chains.”
Atlanta bit her lower lip and weighed her options. On the one hand, there was no logical reason for the podium to be there, but then again, why would their captors leave something that obvious out in the open for them to use?
I don’t like this.
Still, she made her way to the podium. Slowly. Carefully. Keeping her eyes locked on the cold stone, her eyes tracing the shape of the crescent. When she was close enough to touch it, she felt an overwhelming pull come from it. As if it were urging her to do something she would inevitably regret.
“I’m not so sure about this,” Atlanta whispered.
“Then we can think of something else,” Darian said from the darkness.
Atlanta looked in his direction, then shook her head angrily. “No, we need to get out of here.”
She reached out and rested her hand on the crescent, and in an instant a scorching fire burned through the stone and into her body. The fire raced through her, forcing her to her knees as she screamed in pain, and she tried to pull her hand back. But she couldn’t. It was as if her hand was now glued to the stone.
She screamed. Again and again.
She stared at the crescent through tear-stung eyes, and through her blurred vision she saw it glow a deep amber. The glow intensified, quickly and surely, until it began to blind her, and burst out in a wave of white light.
Chapter 13
The shackles dissipated and vaporized into thin air. Darian, not expecting it and caught in what was happening to Atlanta, fell face-first onto the ground. He didn’t even have time to put his hands out in front of him to catch himself. He fell with a hard thud.
A cool breeze suddenly picked up and circled the cell. The cold saturated his skin and accumulated in his bones, discharging the heat trapped inside him. It was pain and relief at the same time.
He suddenly started coughing fiercely, rolling onto his side. As he fought to catch his breath and clear his throat, he watched Raul push himself up and lean his back against the brick wall behind him. Another fit of coughs wracked his body, and he squinted. The light had been intense. The white flash still overwhelmed his vision, and
the crescent on the podium burned brighter than the moon beaming right outside the prison cell.
“What happened?” Raul voiced the words in between gasps of breath.
Darian continued coughing violently, unable to respond, feeling like the light had somehow found its way down his throat and was pulling out his vocal cords. For a second he thought he’d lost his speech completely, feeling the way he had moments before when he’d first seen Atlanta and had tried talking to her but couldn’t get anything out.
“I don’t remember how we got here,” Atlanta replied shakily. She was leaning against the podium, gasping for air as well. How could they breathe while he couldn’t seem to catch his breath? “The last thing I remember was that goliath...and then nothing.”
“My head still hurts,” Raul said, rubbing the nape of his neck and wincing. “Under normal circumstances I’d thanking you for freeing me, Atlanta, but right now I don’t know what’s worse, the chains or that damn light.” Raul turned to Darian. “Are you all right?”
Darian waved a hand and pushed to his feet. He swallowed and forced his diaphragm to relax. The coughing finally stopped. He cleared his throat cautiously, afraid it would come back. He could feel a burning in his eyes and imagined they were red now. He swallowed, trying to collect himself and clear the crescent moon from his vision. “I’m f-fine.”
Clearly Atlanta wasn’t worried. “What now?” she asked as she crossed her arms and gazed up at the window. “You guys are free but we’re still imprisoned.”
“We’re not anything close to being trapped,” Darian replied, moving around the room and taking everything in. Realizing how convenient the placement of the podium was. “If anything, we were put here just to find our way out.”
