The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1)

by Lampley, Alexis

  “They’re both breathing,” came a deep, gentle voice.

  The girl inhaled sharply. “He burned her.”

  Something soft and warm brushed the skin of Ariana’s arms.

  “This is not a familiar injury,” the man said. “It’s more bruised than burned…”

  Ariana’s arms throbbed beneath the gentle touch.

  “Sparks, George,” the girl exclaimed. “He’s bleeding. Look.”

  The touch disappeared from Ariana’s arm.

  “Puncture wounds?”

  “What happened?” the girl wondered. “Were they attacked?”

  “Please, calm down.”

  Glittering gold and ruby flecks sifted out of the blackness that invaded her vision. The voice was so familiar. A tiny dragon with iridescent wings. Black glass glittering under the light of a million fireflies.

  Asrea! She remembered now. And George.

  George. Why was he there? He was supposed to be gone, wasn’t he? Someone told her he… Bintaro. Killian. Killian told her George was gone. He told her right before he...

  She gasped, aware of the memory of fighting for breath. Air funneled into her lungs.

  “Ariana!”

  She blinked—or thought she did—and light seeped into her eyes.

  “Ariana. You’re alright. Calm down. Everything’s alright.” Asrea’s round face, framed by her long, dark hair, swam into focus. Those grey eyes took her in with alternating shades of worry and relief. “Right?”

  She slowed her breathing and tried to nod, but every part of her felt disconnected.

  George’s face appeared beside Asrea’s. He looked better than he had the last time she’d seen him, the bruise on his chin barely yellow now. He brushed a long strand of silver-streaked hair out of his eyes. “Relax. Stay still,” he said, sliding his hand under her head to support it. “Tell us what happened.”

  “I—Ice…” she tried to explain, but her voice was shot. She squeezed the words out in a crackling whisper. “He… burned. I… stabbed… with ice.”

  George tensed. “At the same time?”

  “I th—think so.”

  Asrea looked at George in alarm. “What is it?”

  “You must have created a circuit,” George said, lifting Ariana’s head, sliding his other hand under her back and guiding her slowly into a sitting position.

  The room spun. Ariana pinched her eyelids closed until it passed. “A circuit?” she asked, when her equilibrium finally reset.

  She leveled an uneasy gaze on Killian, crumpled across from her on the floor, his back against a splintered white cupboard, his chin on his chest, blood congealing on his forearms.

  “You used your abilities on each other,” George said. It may have been a question.

  “He attacked me,” she whispered, feeling tension in her forehead as she pushed the words past her throat.

  “I can't believe this,” Asrea said.

  “Sometimes, when fire and water mix, the reaction is not as peaceful as dousing flames,” George explained.

  Asrea shook her head. “No. I understand how the combination works.” She waved it off. “Mix the right amount and you get an electric pulse.”

  Electric pulse? So, that's what he meant by a circuit… and electrocuted each other? Lawks. No wonder she felt so awful.

  “What I mean is, I can't believe I was right about Ariana.” She looked at her. "You're Tieren."

  George studied Ariana so intensely she could feel the weight of his gaze before she turned to meet it. “Is this true?”

  What was the point in keeping it hidden now? “Tierenmar.”

  A look of utter disappointment washed over George’s face. Ariana pulled away from him.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone that?” he asked fiercely.

  Killian groaned and shifted, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Ariana’s brows stitched together, adding to her growing headache. “It isn't something I'm taught to freely share." Her voice cracked.

  The weight of George’s sigh was resounding. “Snipe me,” he muttered. “Gorse.”

  Uneasiness rose like bile in Ariana’s throat. “I’m. I—I don’t…”

  George curled his thick hand into a fist and pressed it to his forehead. “We could’ve used you,” he said to himself. “Lawks. We could’ve…”

  “Used her for what?” Asrea cut in.

  George dropped his hand to his side. “To carry something through Ionia.”

  “The Onyx Vial?” The words were out of Ariana’s mouth before she could stop them.

  A flash of surprise crossed George’s face. Asrea sucked in a breath.

  “How…? Yes,” George admitted.

  So a Tieren could survive holding it.

  “I knew it. I knew you found it,” Asrea whispered triumphantly.

  George flashed her a stern glare.

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  “Why carry it anywhere?” Ariana asked him.

  “Because it is volatile and will wipe out a city like a plague. There’s only one place left in the Nine where it can be kept safely until we find a way to destroy it.”

  Ariana swallowed. “In Ionia?”

  He nodded. “The mountains beneath Ruekridge.”

  Her heart skipped. “You’re taking the Vial to Ruekridge?” A well of possibilities sprang to life inside her mind. “And I could get it there?”

  “Yes. You… Some other Tieren…”

  “But I thought your mother pulled you out of Ruekridge,” Asrea said.

  “She did,” Ariana replied flatly.

  George shook his head. “We could’ve lobbied to have you reinstated.”

  “Seriously?” she squeaked.

  “We’re Shadow Elite, Princess.”

  That settled it. “I’ll do it.”

  A cough came from Killian’s direction. He opened his eyes. “Too late,” he grumbled, his voice as shaky as Ariana’s.

  She glared at him. “No, it’s not.”

  “He’s right,” George said, shuffling on his knees over to the boy. “The plan is already in motion."

  “Just change,” Ariana suggested, irritated by Killian stealing George’s focus.

  George picked up Killian’s arm and checked the wounds. “We can’t,” he said. “The Vial is going with Hunter now.”

  “Hunter?” Ariana choked.

  “Yes. He’s Tierendar.”

  “Hunter. As in,” she pointed at Killian, “his…”

  “Brother,” Killian finished. “Yes.”

  She’d known, in her gut, the first time she'd seen Killian, that this was true. But to hear it confirmed made her insides knot together. “No. George, you can’t let Hunter take it.”

  George set Killian’s arm down and turned to face her. “Why?”

  “Because he’s the Prince's brother.”

  George’s shoulders dropped, his face sliding into a look that said, clearly, he was not impressed with her reasoning.

  “Their father is King Fyrenn,” Ariana protested. Asrea’s hand flew to her mouth. “Don’t you understand that? They’re working together. They’re going to steal it.”

  “How do you figure?” Killian put in, slowly unfolding from his crumpled position.

  Ariana didn’t acknowledge him. “Those documents you found, George—they weren’t mine. They were Hunter’s.”

  George stood and pulled open a drawer to his left. He took out a roll of bandage and knelt back down beside Killian, his back to Ariana and Asrea. “That means nothing, Princess.”

  Ariana gaped at him, felt her blood pressure rise. “Nothing? It meant prison when I was carrying them.”

  He stared hard at her over his shoulder. “You know that isn’t true.”

  She couldn’t believe this. How deep did Killian’s deception go? “Whatever lies that…” she pointed at Killian again, “spurge is feeding you—” Killian stiffened, “don’t believe them. He’s not a Shadow. He’s a liar.” And worse. But there was no sense
in scaring Asrea even more. “When I came here to tell you that, he attacked me.”

  “Are you serious?” Killian snapped, his black-brown eyes in sharp focus. He gestured to the wreckage of furniture, dragging George’s hands and the trail of bandage with it. “You pushed me into the table.”

  She colored. “You threatened me.”

  “Ariana.” George faced her full on. “This is not the time to lay false accusations. Did he attack you or did he defend himself after you attacked him?”

  Tears of frustration itched at the back of her eyes. “I defended myself,” she said, standing. “Pre-emptively.”

  George tore the strip of bandage he’d wrapped around Killian’s wound and tucked the end out of sight, then started on the other arm. “Princess…”

  She twitched angrily at the nickname. “Just—” She held up her hand. “Don’t send Hunter the Vial. Please. Let me take it.”

  George shook his head. “Ariana, I’m sorry. The Vial is already in Ionia. Harold took it through the portal book and—”

  “He what?”

  He stopped wrapping the bandage and gave her his full attention. “Your portal book is fixed.”

  Asrea, her hand still over her mouth, let out a soft gasp, her face lit with awe.

  Ariana struggled to link words together, shock erasing the ability from her mind. She blinked at him. Blinked again. And another forty-three times in the space of a second.

  “I know you wanted to go back, Princess. But you’ve been so reckless. We couldn’t risk you finding out until—”

  The hair on her arms stood. She shivered, a chill from the speed in which her anger swept through her veins. This was too much. Her thrumming pulse rose in her throat, clogging it, as a frantic collection of thoughts gathered at the tip of her tongue.

  George and Asrea looked on her with varying degrees of pity. Between them, Killian stared at her, one eyebrow raised, as if she were a particularly annoying child he was forced to deal with. She couldn’t take it. She didn’t want their pity and she didn’t want Killian’s condescension. She stood.

  “Princess,” George reached for her arm.

  She jerked it away. “I’m nobody's princess.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and ran out of the house.

  She didn’t stop running until she reached the wall of the cavern and the sea of black glass shards, and then only because she’d forgotten where the path to the Spark Willow started. Once she found it, she tramped along it with seething, hyperventilating breaths—too angry to let her lungs recover from the run.

  She dropped to the ground beneath the glittering tree. The glass was cool against her back, which was warm and slick with sweat. She stared into the ruby and gold canopy, her eyes unfocused, her mind drawing blanks. She was hurt and she was angry and that’s all she could reconcile in her thoughts.

  Something sharp dug into her calf. She shifted her leg to rid herself of it, but it scraped her skin and refused to be ignored. For a blink, she imagined a shard of glass wedged into her skin. Then she remembered the documents, folded and tucked in her boot.

  She stuffed her hand down the boot and extracted them. But the sight of them made her sick with anger. She flung them into the air, aiming for the tree branches, hoping the ember-leaves might catch them on fire. Instead, the sheets unfolded mid-flight, and separated as they fluttered back down around her.

  A page landed flat on her face, an edge biting into her cheek, and handwritten Elder Script filled her vision. She plucked the page off, intending to crumple it in her fist, but caught three words and froze.

  Truth. Vial. Destroyed.

  She rolled onto her stomach and flattened the page to the ground, seeking the whole of that sentence. She read it closely, struggling to decipher the inconsistent penmanship.

  But the truth of it is: the Onyx Vial can be destroyed.

  Her boiling anger evaporated, leaving a tingling steam of excitement in its wake. The Vial could be destroyed. If these documents told her how to do it… well, she’d make sure Ruekridge was her finder’s reward.

  She kept the page laid out and got up, gathering the rest as quickly as she could before sitting again. Putting them back in order was tricky, but the folds helped her get it right. She held the first page to the light.

  With determined patience, Ariana dredged through the handwritten script, searching out the pattern and style of the writer, piecing the characters together until the words revealed themselves.

  My dearest Edyson,

  I must admit that I am not well. I do not wish to alarm you, for my affliction is nothing inherently physical. The constant changing of address, the secrets that I am forced to keep; It is all too much for my poor heart to bear. I miss you. Fervently. Often I cannot breathe for thinking of you. Were I an old woman, I surely could not survive the heartache that accompanies me each night I fall asleep alone, and wake to find the void of your presence echoed within my very soul.

  A love letter? How did a love letter turn into anything about the Onyx Vial?

  I can only hope that this war, which makes no promise to end, will not last beyond my ability to return to you. I fear, however, that the chances of that dream are dwindling. I wake so often now in wonder at surviving another day.

  She flipped impatiently to the next page, this one containing the illustration of the Onyx Vial.

  They found us again. Two nights past. This time we had such little warning of their attack that we were forced to set the records aflame. Master Artemis wailed something frightening at the sight of his life’s work reduced to ashes. I, too, felt their loss—as deeply as I feel your absence.

  But if we are to make a stand against our enemy, we cannot allow him even the slightest advantage. In that regard, we cannot allow ourselves to lose the footing we’ve worked so diligently, and risked our lives these many years, to gain.

  The mention of the enemy made thoughts of Killian burn, unwelcome, in the back of Ariana’s mind.

  So, my dear Edyson, in the hope that the records will not be lost forever in the memories of its keepers, my knowledge shall come to you, preserved, through your safekeeping, on the pages I now write.

  First is the matter of the Onyx Vial.

  Ariana turned the page.

  Yes, my love, it does exist. And it is as lethal as the legends say.

  But the truth of it is: the Onyx Vial can be destroyed.

  The illustration on the previous page is as accurate a representation of the Vial as can be expected, given the descriptions in so many of the now ruined accounts. But it serves its purpose. You will recognize it, should you ever have the misfortune of finding it.

  The following is my account, to the best of my memory, of the records that were lost:

  She turned the page again.

  To destroy the Onyx Vial, one must have the strength to overcome it. This is not something one can do alone.

  Every elemental essence must be represented. Given that no single element can survive a touch, it falls on the Tieren to get hold of the Onyx Vial.

  Of Tieren it is known that there are few. To compound the odds, it seems, these races are scattered thoroughly across the Nine.

  It was true. Until she came here, Ariana had never knowingly met another Tieren. The fact that she, Harold, Jace, Oren, and Killian had been grouped together in one city was beyond her imagination.

  But then… if Harold had any connection to earth, what the woman was suggesting was possible. Between the three of them, they could’ve already destroyed it. There would’ve been no need to go to Ionia without her, or to give the Vial over to Hunter, and risk the brothers overturning it to their father.

  Anger rising, Ariana returned to reading, willing herself to calm down.

  Furthermore, there is a strongly supported theory among the records that not just any Tieren will do. This is based on a small passage that appears in the margins of a book owned by the High Proficient of the Great Unraveling. The passage acknowledges that
the Onyx Vial may weaken, after an undetermined period of time, only under the combined powers of those races connected to air.

  Ariana inhaled sharply. Lawks.

  If this was true, destroying the Vial would require a Tierenmar, a...

  She flipped to the next page. A terrifyingly exhilarating idea swept through her mind: She was Tierenmar. Based on what Killian had done to her at the Stratton's, he was Tierenvar. And according to George, Hunter was Tierendar.

  This was how the Shadows would destroy the Onyx Vial. Through the three of them.

  …considering the improbability of attaining the feathers. Completing the Death’s Mistress Arrow is impossible without procuring an arrowhead that has pierced a beating heart but has never killed.

  “What?” she hissed, pulling out of her thoughts and flipping back to the previous page. She read the last line again.

  …require a Tierenmar, a… flip …considering the improbability…

  “No,” she moaned.

  It was out of order. And it was the last page.

  She looked around, thinking she’d missed one. But she hadn’t.

  She scanned the edges of the pages. Nothing. She turned them over and sought out a tiny mark on the swath of blank page. There: In the top left corner on the back of each page was a number. She counted through them. One… Two… Three… Four… Six.

  And suddenly she remembered: Rockwood Pass. The Huntsman they’d called Commander. He’d taken a page from Hunter's satchel and dismissed it as useless because he couldn’t read it. He'd burned it.

  Page five.

  Without that page, it didn’t matter who could overcome the power of the Vial. They couldn’t destroy it. Not unless…

  She searched for the passage again.

  …the Onyx Vial may weaken, after an undetermined period of time, only under the combined powers of those races connected to air.

  They had the means to destroy it. They had a clue to the process of destroying it. Maybe all they needed was time.

  But Hunter already had the Vial. Was there any time? He could be handing it over to his father as she read these words.

  No. Not with Harold around. As long as Harold stayed with Hunter, the Vial would not fall into King Fyrenn’s hands.