That night Iniru returned to his room. After the briefest of kisses, she cuddled up with him and drifted off into a fitful sleep. He was glad being here with him soothed her, but it didn’t help him rest at all. Having her so close all night, thinking of nothing but the feel of her warmth against him, made sleep difficult.
The next day, they decided to explore the Library after lunch. If Turesobei hadn’t seen the Forbidden Library first, he would’ve thought this was the most marvelous collection of books ever. The Library took up an entire section of the octagon. Shelves of lacquered wood crammed with books and scrolls filled three levels. Unfortunately, on a brief survey, he couldn’t find a single book he could read. Whatever magic helped them speak and understand any language within the realms didn’t work with reading.
Iniru again slept with him and was out before dawn. Though she tried to hide it around the others, her brush with death still haunted her. It tainted her voice and welled in her eyes. Most obvious of all, she moved sluggishly and cautiously.
The next day, Motekeru switched to guarding Awasa, since she could wake at any time. While Enashoma stayed with Kurine, the rest of them checked out the Training Hall, which was split into two separate sections. The first contained an arrangement of straw targets, punching bags, blocks, weights and climbing ropes. The Chonda had several small buildings set up like this. The second Training Hall training room section had more targets but no other equipment. However, an array of carved runes lined the walls.
“This room is intended for practicing magic,” Turesobei said. “The wards are designed to contain damage, to prevent it from spreading to—”
Enashoma burst in. “Awasa is awake.”
They rushed back to their rooms.
Iniru stopped outside Kurine’s room. “Seeing me will only upset her. I’ll stay with Kurine. Shout if you need me.”
“Maybe you should all wait outside,” Turesobei said when they reached Awasa’s door. “It would probably be best if I went in alone the first time.”
Shoma glanced at Zaiporo and bit her lip. But Zaiporo nodded, agreeing with him. Turesobei took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped in.
Chapter Fifteen
Awasa was sitting up on her sleeping mat. The dark rings had vanished from underneath her eyes, but otherwise she still looked part Warlock. The eight-pointed star on her forehead, the fangs and violet eyes, the protruding veins and paper-white skin all still remained. He had hoped the transformation would continue while she slept, but it looked as if this hybrid Awasa was the best they could expect. But maybe some food would help her complexion at least. There was no telling when she’d last eaten, or what she had eaten.
“The machine won’t tell me what’s going on,” she said.
“His name is Motekeru,” Turesobei said.
“That’s what he told me.”
“You don’t remember meeting him?”
“Only vaguely.”
“Are you going to put up a fight?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She stared at him. “I’m not sure why I would. Though I am very cross with…well, everyone. I’m the least cross with you, though.”
Cross? He could handle cross. That was almost normal for Awasa. As long as she didn’t want to kill anyone, it was a step in the right direction.
“Motekeru, could you wait outside?”
“Of course, master. I will be in the back garden should you need me.”
Turesobei knelt in front of Awasa. Fangthorn lay between them. “So…do you need anything?”
“I’m starving.”
“I’ll get you some food.”
“I can wait a little longer. I’d like to talk first.”
“Sure.”
“A servant brought me water.”
“Okay.”
She eyed him curiously. She seemed to expect something, but he had no idea what. “Is there something the matter?”
“Yes, but maybe I’m the only one who sees it. There’s something wrong with the servants.”
“Oh, that. Their souls were stolen long ago.”
She frowned, waited expectantly for him to say something more and then huffed. “Also…I think there’s something wrong with me, too. Was my soul—”
“Stolen? No. I mean…no. Well…it’s complicated. How much do you remember?”
“It’s sort of fuzzy, but I can remember it all when I focus on it, like a vivid dream after you wake up. Only this is a nightmare, and so much of it doesn’t make sense.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure if everything I remember actually happened.”
Turesobei understood. Sometimes he dreamed he was Chonda Lu, and it was so real, he could hardly believe he hadn’t actually lived those moments himself. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember, from when we left Ekaran until now, and I’ll let you know if it matches what really happened.”
“You’ll tell me the truth? Even if it’s horrible?”
“I promise.”
“Good, because I’m no longer a flower to be handled with delicate care. And I am most certainly not a child.”
“I understand.”
Awasa composed herself and began her tale. “First, let me apologize for something. I came after you, which was stupid. I should have let you go. I was a brat, and a spoiled one at that.”
“I don’t hold it against you,” he said. “What’s done is done.”
With perfect clarity, she recounted everything until they reached the Lair of the Deadly Twelve. “Barakaros got into my head as soon as we reached the lair.”
“No, that didn’t happen until he probed our minds while he tortured us.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m certain of this. As soon as we neared the tunnels, he got into my head. He knew how weak I was. He knew he could break me. That wasn’t his ultimate goal, though. He was going to use me as a vessel. It was going to get him out of the contract where he himself had to die. But he didn’t have time to complete the process. When the transfer was broken I got some of his power, along with his anger and instincts, but I didn’t get any of his knowledge or memories.”
That matched up with the Blood King’s theory perfectly. “If you had told me Barakaros was affecting you, I could have helped.”
“I know, but I was embarrassed and scared and he was already influencing me.” With her fingers she traced the design of Fangthorn’s pommel. “I tried to kill Iniru. And I am sorry for that.”
“That was the Warlock’s doing.”
She shook her head. “All the jealousy and anger…it was already inside me. He just brought it out. And all the good in me, what little there was, faded away.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Awasa.”
She half chuckled. “You’re always so sweet. But we both know it’s true.” Her fingers trailed up the dark-steel blade. “And I killed the Winter Child. I was so angry, so out of control. If I hadn’t killed her, you wouldn’t be here in this mess.” She shook her head. “I slaughtered a small, innocent child. I should be inconsolable. But it’s like…it’s like my favorite dress got torn. That’s as bad as I can feel about it. And that’s how I know something’s still not right about me. I smeared her blood on me.”
“We saw.”
“And I bit into her neck and drank her blood.”
Turesobei rocked back and swallowed nervously. He tried to keep the look of horror from showing on his face. Awasa frowned and sighed. He must not have done a good job of it.
“You didn’t know that, huh?”
He shook his head.
“I bit into a dead girl’s neck and drank her still-warm blood. And the worst part is, I enjoyed it.” She shrugged. “Of course, I wouldn’t still be alive if I hadn’t done so. Her blood protected me from the cold. I’d like to think the Warlock’s instincts told me to do it and that it wasn’t just a fortunate byproduct of my depravity.”
“We saw the the blood smeared on you and figured that was why you’d done it. After all, you seemed fine in the cold, e
ven though your clothes were the same, only shredded and—”
“Indecent?”
He blushed. “I did see things I don’t think the old Awasa would have wanted me to see.”
“The old Awasa hardly had those things. I grew a foot taller and all these muscles and curves swelled out within moments. It hurt like Torment, but in a good way. Or so I thought at the time. The dark power was trying to remake me in the Warlock’s image but could only go so far.” She rubbed her hands across her silk sleeping garments. “It’s nice to have proper clothes again.”
“You can thank Enashoma. She changed you while you slept.”
“That was kind of her, and more than I deserve.”
“What else do you remember?”
“I killed three yomon with your white-steel sword. I’d never fought anything before, but along with my new size and strength, I had gotten Barakaros’s fighting instincts and skills. It was such a rush. Oh, you should’ve seen me. I commanded the yomon to obey me—and they did! It was the most glorious moment of my life.”
She took released a deep, satisfied breath. Turesobei was glad he hadn’t seen it. But he didn’t say that. He just nodded along instead.
She continued. “The old Awasa had so desperately wanted to be someone, by her own right and not because she was the daughter of Lord Kobarai. She…I…had respect and power. It was everything I had ever wanted. Except you. So I set out to fix that.”
“Actually,” Turesobei frowned. He hadn't honestly liked the old Awasa but he still hated to think of her as cold and power-hungry. “I think more than anything, the old Awasa wanted to be loved. She was lonely and trapped. All she needed was friends.”
Awasa cocked her head to the side and chewed at her lip. “I’m not so sure.”
“She didn’t need power. Having friends would have made her someone by her own right. And she would have learned to respect herself.”
Awasa shrugged dubiously and went on. She recounted the murder and pillaging her yomon had done as they raged across the Winter Realm. She had to pause at times to focus on her memories enough to pick out the details. She herself hadn’t killed anyone. She had merely handled the interrogations.
“Aikora, the village where we stayed?” Turesobei asked.
“We didn’t go there. We knew you’d already left.”
Turesobei breathed a sigh of relief. They had thought their plan to lead Awasa and the yomon away from the village had worked, but they’d had no way of being certain.
She talked about her frustration at having to wait outside the Forbidden Library because the yomon were afraid to go in there. She had almost killed one of them out of anger when she discovered that Turesobei had tricked her and slipped away from the library through the Shadowland.
“Then finally we came through the portal, you and me. Iniru destroyed my amulet and I was defeated. While you battled the Blood King, I slipped away. Then this strange mist came through the building. I couldn’t escape it. After it passed over me, I was…different. I remembered my old self again, perfectly. All the memories came rushing back, but not the old feelings that had gone with them. I followed the smell of food to the Kitchen. I was waiting for the servants to leave. Then Iniru came in. I tackled her, grabbed this sword and….”
Her fingers circled the pommel where a faint, eight-pointed star glowed violet. “I don’t understand what happened next. I collapsed and then woke up here with the machine guarding me. He said I’d been put under a sleep spell by the Blood King three days ago.”
“You needed rest.”
She chewed at her lip. Her fangs pricked into the skin. A tiny bubble of blood welled up. She didn’t seem to notice. “Everything I said….”
“As far as I know, everything you told me is true.”
“So none of it was a nightmare? It was all real.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Her body sagged and she sighed. For a moment, her face twisted into a frown and her eyes filled with tears. Then the emotion vanished, leaving a blank expression in its wake.
“When I woke here, I knew instantly I had changed again. I’m not Child Awasa or Ninefold Awasa or even Awasa after the mists. I’m something else now. The murderous rage is still in me, but it’s buried deep down now. It’s the sword’s doing, isn’t it? That’s why I see the Warlock’s energy in the pommel, right?”
“The sword is siphoning off some of the Warlock’s power and along with it his hatred.”
“Why?”
“The blade is dark-steel, so it absorbs energy, but there’s also a vacuum effect because Lady Hannya, the Earth Dragon, resided within it for fifteen thousand years.”
“Oh.” Her fingers danced lovingly along the blade. “Does it have a name?”
“Fangthorn.”
“That’s a good name.”
“It’s unique. There’s no other sword like it.”
She nodded. “Am I going to change more?”
“Not because of the sword. According to the Blood King, anyway.”
“Will I shrink or lose my powers?”
“As long as the sword’s nearby, it will drain off enough power and negative emotions for you to control yourself. But that won’t change your size and you won’t lose the Warlock’s instinctual skills. Unfortunately, if you part from the sword for long, even a few minutes, you will become more like Ninefold Awasa again.”
“So I’m basically bound to the sword?”
“An actual binding of the Warlock’s essence to the sword would be more effective, but his power was in you for too long. It changed you at the deepest levels. If we could’ve gotten the blade into your hands weeks ago, things might be different. And maybe prolonged contact with the sword will give you more control over time. Not even the Blood King knows for certain what’s going on with you.”
“So I should…?”
“Rest. Rest and…try to focus on being yourself.”
She scowled. “But I don’t know who I am.”
“Oh, well….”
“I know who you want me to be. But I don’t like Child Awasa. I don’t ever want to be her again. But then, I don’t want to be Ninefold Awasa burning with rage again, either.” She shrugged and sighed. “I have no idea who I want to be.”
“Well, we’re going to be stuck here for a while, maybe a very long time. So there’s no rush. Figure out who you are now and what you want to become. Old Awasa had begun to make herself into a new person, and I’m sure you can do the same.”
He took her hands and squeezed them. It was unreal to think these strong hands were Awasa’s. She was the same size as him now, and stronger. He smiled. “Anything you need, just let me know and I’ll do what I can.”
Her lips peeled back into a smile, revealing her delicate fangs. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the smile of a particularly sadistic cat that had cornered easy prey. He dropped her hands and shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t remember love,” she said. “I’m not sure I ever knew what it was. But—” she leaned toward him, “—I still know one thing I want. I still know one thing I desire.”
Chapter Sixteen
Turesobei scooted back. She slid closer. This wasn’t good.
He hopped to his feet. “I should be going.”
Awasa sprang up. “So soon?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He backed away and she pursued.
“Awasa, what’re you doing?”
Her only answer was a widening of her malicious grin. Mentally he prepared the spell of the maiden swooning. It was one of the first spells he’d ever learned and it was simple enough he could cast it without speaking the words. The energy cost would be far greater than normal, but he didn’t want her to realize he’d cast a spell on her. At best, the spell would render her lightheaded and confused. But all he needed was for it to snap her out of her sudden obsession.
He backed into the wall of shelves. She slammed into him and grabbed him by the waist. Her hot breath caresse
d his ear. “You want me,” she whispered.
She smelled of alluring spices: cardamom, nutmeg and cinnamon. Her violet eyes sparkled. Her full lips invited him. Why was he resisting? He wanted to be with her. He had always wanted to be with her.
The spell slipped from his mind.
Awasa untied his belt and spread open his robe. She lifted his shirt and ran her hands up his chest. Her touch tingled against his skin. He moaned.
Her smile widened to reveal all her fangs. She leaned in to kiss him.
The image of her biting into the Winter Child’s neck leapt into his mind and desire drained out of him like water from a bucket turned upside down.
He shoved her away. “Awasa, get control of yourself!”
She spun around and hissed. “All I need is control of you.”
She snarled and lunged for him. He stepped aside and darted past her. A glimmer caught his eye. Fangthorn. She’d left the sword on top of her sleeping mat.
He backed slowly toward it. “Lu Bei, stay in the hallway. I’ve got this. Say nothing to the others.”
He tried to keep his voice low so no one out in the hallway could hear. He didn’t want them to burst in and make things worse. If he could get Awasa to calm down, everything would be okay. She just needed time to get control over her emotions.
She swiped at him with her claw-like fingernails. He ducked his head and dove for the sword. She leapt onto him. He grabbed the sword, rolled and wrapped his arms around her. He held Fangthorn against her back.
Another wave of desire hit him. This time he was ready. He blocked it out and hugged her tighter, keeping the sword against her. Her strength faded, and along with it the press of the compulsion against his mind. Her eyes went out of focus. He released her, put the sword in her lap and scooted away.
She took deep, labored breaths and scrunched her eyes up as if she were suffering a terrible headache. She grasped her temples and moaned.
The Blood King’s Apprentice Page 8
