The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1)

by Jules Hedger

  And Cirrus dreamt, his body wincing and sweat glistening on his brow as his dreams stalked him through the dark, grassy plains of somewhere in his mind. He felt flashes of horror, images of destruction, stab him in short pierces. He embraced the dreams with open arms. In fact, he hoped he would never wake up. He knew that now the most precious thing to exist was gone, there was no other escape but to let them possess him entirely. If that meant death, then so be it. Perhaps, Cirrus thought as he floated through the darkness, among my nightmares I will occasionally dream of Maggie . . .

  ***

  The city that we approached was a giant hulk of ivory. It gleamed in the moonlight at the center like a polished seashell and even from a few miles away, it was glaringly a capital city. The money that radiated off it was obvious, as was the disdain and disgust that radiated off of Cassandra and Lucan. This was where Cirrus lived and this is what their resistance was fighting against.

  And while Sinthinian was asleep, Grekegoria was awake and screaming. If I thought New York held the award for City of Constant Light and Activity, the capital of Palet put it to shame. From where we stood we heard the music, cars and loud noise of what must have been thousands of people still awake. I couldn't help but put a hand over my dreamcatcher. How could we get through that scene without being noticed?

  The dreamcatcher was practically buzzing. I hadn't wanted to make it obvious that things were getting serious, but I had been forced to strip off my jacket. My skin was boiling feverishly. I kept seeing Cassandra shooting me worried looks, so I tried not to pant or fan my face. I didn't want them to freak out, even though I was totally freaking the fuck out.

  Luckily, we didn't have to pass through the center of all that ruckus. We skirted quietly around the edges of the city and into the more understated wealth of the outside estates. We tried to move quickly through their neighboring acres, hopping fences and running from tree cover to tree cover. The moonlight soon gave way to the slate color of grey dawn preparation, bringing with it heavy clouds that spread across the sky. I sighed in relief as they started to drizzle down cool rain on my skin. It was so welcome I forgot for a moment about not worrying Cassandra and, stopping to lift my face to the air, I let the mist kiss my face.

  When I opened my eyes Lucan was waiting for me. Cassandra must have been beyond the next hill. He was staring at my lifted arms, watching the steam rise off in twirling caterpillars to dissipate into the air. No use hiding it now.

  Moving closer, he waved a hand wonderingly above my skin.

  "It's dry," he marveled. The rain clung to his hair like a glittering cobweb and he had to blink away the drops that gathered on his thick eyelashes.

  "It's the necklace," I said softly. I lifted my palm and stroked it down his arm. He gasped at the heat and stepped back. Giving him a pained smile, I shrugged. "Tick-tock."

  Turning around, I went over the hill to join Cassandra on the other side. Lucan followed, rubbing his arm where I had seared his skin, and we found ourselves standing at the back of a large, three story mansion made out of the same white stone that shone from the capital city; however, the white was broken across with dark cracks, like an infection splitting pale, smooth skin. The grass outside was dry and yellow and, as we walked cautiously around the edge to the front yard, I could see that the path leading along the side of the mansion led into a wild thicket of forest. It seemed to be abandoned and, compared to the clean residences of the border town, it looked like a discarded Wendy house left out on the lawn during a rainy day.

  "This is Cirrus's place," Cassandra said quietly. "We've been scouting around it for a while now but we've never seen the inside." Her eyes searched the dark windows. "We can never know if he's home."

  We stood in the light rain looking up at the house and for the first time since meeting both Lucan and Cassandra, I had the feeling they were afraid. And suffice it to say, I was terrified. The house might have been still, but there was a feeling that enveloped us and pushed us down. It was a feeling of consciousness, as if the house itself had been waiting for us to arrive. But it wasn't welcoming. Small tendrils of the purple cloud curled around the front porch. Suddenly, Cirrus's strange beauty, his damaged hands and tired eyes, made sense. I couldn't live in a house that I thought would one day eat me alive. How Cirrus dealt with it every day I had no idea. That feeling hadn't touched me when I was in his office. Now, on the ground, it was almost suffocating.

  Cassandra motioned us silently to the side of the house and checked the windows. All of them were locked and as we circled the house fully, it seemed more and more likely we would have to use Lucan to punch through a glass pane or scale to the next floor.

  "I know this might sound painfully obvious, but did anyone try the front door?" I whispered. In the huge shadow of the house it was hard to see their facial expressions but I think exasperation at the amateur might have been featured. But when no one answered I crept up the front stairs – the same stairs I had so foolishly allowed myself to fall off into the Wilds – and gingerly touched the door knob.

  I heard a rustle behind me and Lucan's great hand spread over the door before I could turn the handle. He looked down at me furiously.

  "What, are you crazy? Let one of us go first!" He pushed me behind him and I felt Cassandra move up close to my back. Expectation was thick in the air as we watched the door knob turn slowly . . . click . . . and Lucan lightly opened the door to the dim darkness of the front hall. We were in.

  ***

  The sound of running water and flickers of black, the falling of snow and smell of charcoal surrounded Cirrus in a giant blizzard. He peered through the haze, molding the air around him with his hands and feet to push through the heavy wind. Something was just there in front of him and he could see it swirling about: small pieces of fingers and eyes and skin flashing between the flakes of white snow. They rushed above his head in a swoop and trailed around the back of his neck. They ruffled through his hair and tickled the inside of his ears. They merged together briefly into a face of immeasurable confidence and peace, smiling through the white of the storm. A face with golden brown eyes, freckles and dark hair.

  Cirrus reached forward clumsily, his fingers brushing through the face that evaporated into the snow and flew away in its jumbled mix of splashed paint and soft colors. His chest jerked suddenly and flung itself after the pieces, but instead of rising after it Cirrus's body fell downwards through his own feet and body. He found himself suddenly suspended, hanging onto the ground by the tips of his toes.

  Cirrus pulled himself up and curled his fingers into the soft edge of the ground. He hung in the air for a moment before the wind seized the ground from his clutches and pushed him forcibly down through the air. The smell of burning filled his nose and as he fell downwards, he spotted the cloud of pieces rushing towards him like a swarm of bees and his body jerked again, this time into consciousness. Cirrus's mind cleared of the snow and he awoke on the floor of the basement.

  Someone was here.

  "Maggie," he breathed.

  ***

  I stood behind Lucan, halfway in the house and halfway on the porch, and tried to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I knew that the waiting room lay beyond and at the other end was the hallway that led to Cirrus's office. But it also led off in both left and right directions, emphasizing the great many rooms I hadn't seen inside of. And my rival could be within any one of them.

  Cassandra moved us past the threshold and closed the door softly behind her. In the dark I could only hear breathing and the muffled sound of our steps on the thick carpeting. As a group, we crept slowly across the waiting room, feeling along the walls until finding ourselves at the empty entrance to the black hallway.

  A sudden shift in the air, like a person walking past us, rushed along my back. Warm breath whispered across my neck for a fleeting moment and suddenly was gone. Lucan drew back sharply and I sensed Cassandra stiffen up.

  "He's here," she whispered.

  "He's
gone," I corrected. I couldn't feel him anymore, not behind us and not in front of us. But I could sense him pulling me, just like the symbol could sense the other and it knew the time was almost up. It was a yearning, such like I had never felt before, and it started at the roots of my hair and extended through my body until I could almost hear his voice calling.

  "I need to go," I said softly, starting to walk forwards into the dark hallway. Cassandra held me back and felt around until she was gripping my shoulder.

  "You cannot walk this house alone," she whispered. Lucan was still beside, but stayed silent. "He could have tried to take you then, but he didn't. He's luring you away from us. And we're here to make sure you get out of this funhouse alive."

  "Cirrus would never kill me. The rules don't allow it," I said. "He wants me just as much as he wants the throne and the symbol around my neck." I felt it again, that silent seduction coursing through my nerves. "And I have to go alone."

  "You're not going alone," I heard Lucan say behind me. "I'll come with you." He shifted past me until he was at the front. "Cassandra, you should try and find what happened to Martin."

  Martin? Oh God, please don't tell me Marty was involved in all this, too. But before I was allowed to consider it any further, Cassandra suddenly swooped down and kissed my hand. The coolness of her lips was a fallen snowflake. In the dark, it was impossible to see her face but when she leaned in to whisper in my ear, I envisioned what it must have been: sincere, ferocious and utterly beautiful.

  "You are our only one, Maggie," her voice pledged passionately. "You are the blood and the paint and the spirit of our land and our battle. But know that if you lose . . . if you become his and Palet seems lost to treacherous hands, know that we will keep fighting. And we will save you." I heard her move softly back into the black of the waiting room. "It was a great honor, Daughter of Palet."

  I didn't know what to say, so I stood in the dark for a moment with Lucan. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose until my heart marched along to the beat of my necklace. But the yearning didn't allow me to wait for long. A drip of sweat ran down my back and along my spine like a long finger; like Cirrus's finger, so slender and graceful and unlike the tough, hardened hands of Lucan, still waiting patiently beside me.

  I pressed softly upon his arm, just to let him know I was ready, and together we moved slowly into the dark hallway to our right. Every few feet my hands would find a door and every time I gently tried to turn the handle. But the more doors I tried, the more I realized we were walking in a circle around the bottom floor of the house. And it was all locked up.

  But the hallway wasn't a snake eating its own tail. It ended in a staircase lit by a number of candles placed every other step upwards. It then curved out of sight to the second floor. Lucan ascended a few steps doubtfully and looked back through the dim light.

  "Our direction is either up or going back the way we came to try more locked doors," he said. "But judging from this entrance, I would say he's hoping you follow the light."

  A whisper brushed past my ear and the necklace pulsed. Yup, we were going up.

  I followed Lucan up the stairs to the second landing, where I saw the line of candles disappeared a few feet from the top. Another dark hallway leading left or right, surrounded by heavy wooden doors which were all probably barred.

  The whisper came again, this time stronger, and I felt my head turned to the left. I thought I saw a flicker of movement; perhaps the tail of a coat or the heel of a shoe moving out of sight. Whatever it was, it was accompanied by a noise: the distinct creak of a door opening and being left to slowly groan back on its hinges against rust and disuse.

  I started to move too quickly for Lucan to pull me back. His fingers brushed the side of my arm as he tried to grab me but I was running beyond him before he could catch up. And at the end of the hallway, I turned the corner to see down the length of the house.

  The light from the end of the hall was soft and warm and spread out enough to make everything visible. It was a shame because the obvious state of this floor – of the place where guests don't go – was rot.

  The walls were mucky, smeared with dirt and some sort of greasy residue. The wallpaper was striped vertically in a yellow and brown pattern and in the corners it had peeled off in small, thin flakes. The air was still and there was no noise, not even the ticking of a faraway clock. My symbol pulsed again, so hard it was like a hand reaching inside of my chest, and I felt him, felt the pull grow so strong I knew he was there. When I heard Lucan come up behind me I had just enough time to shove him back around the corner before Cirrus stepped slowly and deliberately from an open doorway and into the hallway. The would-be lover and would-be king.

  We stared at each other, the silence between us extending and extending. I could sense Lucan behind me, trying to stay out of sight and, above it all, stay calm. Cirrus, on the other hand, seemed very calm. His mouth was relaxed and his hands hung loosely by his sides. In the shadows he was my conquering angel, all hard lines and molten silver. I breathed deeply and sensed something inside me vibrating against the man's radiation: a string stretching between us of electric energy and slow intensity; our two symbols meeting each other for the first time and relishing in the contact.

  "There you are, my love." His whisper was silk and his eyes burned through the shadows. My mind grew fuzzy and I took a few seconds to find the words. The pulsing was becoming so strong.

  "I need . . . I need your symbol," I breathed.

  "Well, then come and get it," Cirrus replied softly. He turned back around to the open room and vanished into the black.

  Chapter 24

  I walked down the hall to where Cirrus had disappeared and found that the doorway opened to a staircase leading further upwards into the third and final story. Cirrus's soft footfalls climbed steadily upward, not rushing but giving me time to follow. The pull of the symbol was so strong I hardly noticed Lucan following behind.

  By the time I had climbed to the top, Cirrus had crossed the room and was lighting a match to a large candle. The windows were covered in oily sheets and curtains. The edges of the cold dawn light pushed through to light soft lines on the wood slated floor and the soft patter of rain drummed on the roof above us.

  The gleam of the candle flickered about the room and onto the tables littered with strange objects and tools that threw shadows across the walls. The floor was covered in broken pieces of ceramic, metal, and glass. The walls were lined with shelves muddied with the dark not lit by the candle's flame.

  Cirrus turned around, a soft smile on his face, and froze when he saw Lucan appear behind me. There was a moment of silence as the energy field between us wavered and shifted in his anger.

  He stood still and watched Lucan walk slowly around the room. His gaze flickered from him to me, wondering who was more dangerous to leave alone. Lucan, on the other hand, only had eyes for his brother. And I watched him take in his fighting ground and return protectively to my side with a sense of competition he hadn't shown before now.

  "You're not dead." Cirrus said finally, his eyes coming back to mine. "I'm so glad." Cirrus's shock of seeing Lucan had momentarily tainted the haze of our symbols. I felt myself fighting against the pull again.

  "It hasn't been easy to stay that way."

  At that, his eyes narrowed. "Did he hurt you?"

  Lucan growled and stepped forward, snapping Cirrus's attention over.

  "Hurt the Daughter of Palet?" Lucan snarled. "I was her protector."

  Cirrus rolled his eyes. "You've always been the younger, attention-seeking sibling, Lucan. You were no more her guardian than you were a Dream Catcher - and I can see you've thrown yourself into yet another failing pursuit." Cirrus's mouth curled maliciously upwards. "From what I hear Maggie has been instrumental in keeping you alive. Keeping the sand out of your eyes, I should say."

  He turned back to me.

  "We protected each other," I said, internally begging Lucan to keep calm.
"As I am sure you know, there weren't many other options."

  "There were others, if you knew where to look." Cirrus said. "But trust Lucan?" He laughed and ran his hand along the shape edge of his suit jacket. "Do you think he's really invested in revolution? He's only interested in warmth and busy hands."

  "Don't speak to her in that way," Lucan hissed dangerously.

  Please, Lucan, don't rise to it . . .

  "This isn't your fight, little brother!" Cirrus shouted, opening his arms and stepping forward defiantly. "You cannot do anything to me! Only the Daughter of Palet can steal back her throne." My skin vibrated so hard my knees buckled. Lucan reached out to catch me as Cirrus's laughter rang in my ears. "Do you see, Lucan? I call to her."

  "The symbol calls to her," Lucan countered. Cirrus moved through the wreckage of his workshop, walking a circle until he was at the line of covered windows stretching along the entire length of wall. "Stop trying to make this about you."

  "It is about me," Cirrus hissed through his teeth. "But it was never and will never be about you, a surplus of skin and air. I should have allowed Mother to suffocate you at birth. It would have saved us all the useless effort of keeping you alive."

  And then it was too late. Lucan launched himself at Cirrus, who raised his palms and caught Lucan directly in the face. The roar was deafening as his hands scorched the tender skin around Lucan's eyes. I looked up just in time to see Cirrus push Lucan backwards to the windows, still clutching his face, and shove him through the curtains.

  My mind fizzed like static on a radio. A strangled cry choked its way from my throat as the glass shattered outwards like a sheet of melted sugar. There was barely time to react before Lucan disappeared from the edge of the window. It was over in an instant before the shock could even register. I couldn't think about the three stories the separated him from the ground, couldn't think about where he landed. Suddenly Cirrus and I were alone in the room.