THE MYSTIC
“I must say, Sora,” Whitney began, “ever since you found me, these have been adventures for the record books. Of all that happened in that gods-forsaken city, being pivotal pieces in a battle for Pantego’s soul will be tough to top.”
Whitney stared over the starboard side of the deck back to Winde Port. He barely paid attention to the wheel now that they were passed the retreating Shesaitju army and heading for the strait out of the bay. Tum Tum was busy angling the ship’s single, triangular sail to catch what little breeze there was. After that focused gust that fed Sora’s fire and felt so much like magic, the air was still. The water may as well have been frozen it was so flat, tiny ripples wiggling like glowing snakes under the light of the moons.
“Clearly, I attract trouble,” Sora said.
“And rebel afhems,” Whitney muttered.
“I knew you were jealous!”
“Just that I missed such an incredible display. I was worried you were too uptight to act.” Whitney flinched, clearly expecting her to punch him. When she didn’t, he turned and found Aquira leaning over the boom of the sail, glaring down at him. “We’re never going to be alone again, are we?”
Sora reached up and stroked her new friend’s tail. “Nope. She’s part of this scoundreling crew.”
“Going with scoundreling, then? Perfect.”
For a short while, they quietly watched the retreat. The Shesaitju vessels were already unloading at the docks of a small village on the opposite side of the bay. Back in Winde Port, the Glass army celebrated victory. Or at least, that’s what the tiny, shiny dots flitting around the wharf looked like they were doing.
“Do you think Torsten made it out?” Sora asked.
“Of course, he’s too stubborn to die. Look.” Whitney pointed to the wharf. “That’s probably him right there. Of course, it is; no one else has such blinding armor at night. Happy to be of service again, Torsten!” He waved.
“Why were you helping him, anyway?”
“He was supposed to help me find you after Muskigo was eliminated. Clearly, since I found you well enough by myself, he still owes me one.”
“That makes two of us. Did I mention I saved him and his men from an ambush in the estate when I started that fire?”
“Yeah?”
“They walked right into it.”
Whitney sighed. “What is that man going to do without us?”
“Probably lose a war.”
“You’re right. We should go back.” He pretended to start spinning the wheel.
“Whitney, stop!” Sora laughed.
“What? You’re right, we can’t leave him behind. He needs us.”
“Whit.” Her hand fell upon his, and they turned toward each other. She stared at him while he wore that same, goofy grin that hadn’t changed since he was a boy. He still couldn’t grow a beard, but for a runt from Troborough, he was handsome as a prince. The standards weren’t high. The only difference was one of his ears now had a chunk taken off.
“I’m sorry,” they said at the same time.
“For what?” they said at the same time again.
They chuckled.
“You first,” Whitney said.
“No, you go ahead,” Sora replied. “I want to hear this.”
Whitney stole a page out of Sora’s book and rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he began. “I’m sorry I let you get taken back at Tayvada’s place. I’m sorry for dragging you into this life. It’s not safe. It’s no place for a… lady.”
“Hah! A lady? Don’t let my tattered clothes fool you. Plus, you didn’t let me be taken. You couldn’t have stopped that heinous creature even if you wanted to. He’s a yigging upyr, Whit. You know what tha—”
Whitney held out an arm. He held his stomach like he was going to vomit. “Vampire,” Whitney said with a shudder.
“Let me guess, you worked with them a few years back. Cue some ridiculous story.”
“No, my dear, Sora. This one will be a first, and one I’m glad to be rid of. No wonder he avoided sunlight.”
Sora nodded.
“Yigging gods. If I knew that was what Barty sent after us maybe I would have killed the slob. He didn’t want to…”
“Drink my blood?” Sora asked. “He did, but Aquira wouldn’t let him.”
“Thank the fallen gods for her.”
At the mention of her name, Aquira craned her neck down from the sail toward Sora.
“You were scared, weren’t you?” Sora scratched the wyvern under her chin. Aquira’s wings expanded, and she stuck her head out, the thin flap of skin underneath stretching taut.
“I’m sure it was only her,” Whitney remarked.
Sora regarded him and her heart sunk. “I wanted to find you,” she said, not looking him in the eye. “But so much happened so fast. I was worried you died, then running from Kazimir, Muskigo, seeing my people. It all—”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “Sora, you don’t have to explain a thing to me.” He craned his neck and gestured to the red mark ringing his neck. “The gods seem to want me alive no matter what. I think I might be invincible.”
“By Iam, Whitney.” She pulled him closer and examined the dark red ring around his neck. “I didn’t notice that. It looks awful. Kazimir said you survived execution, but he didn’t say you were already strung up to die when you did. How did you get out of it?”
“You’ve got magic, and I’ve got my own secrets.” He puffed out his chest and went to playfully run his hand through his hair. His finger grazed the sliced part of his ear, and he winced.
“Smooth,” Sora chuckled. “We’re going to have to do something about that soon. It’s going to get infected.” She reached up toward it. Her thumb hit a piece of his hair, and a thick, wet paste rubbed off. “Ick! Is that, shog?”
“Long story,” Whitney said.
“Oh, c’mon, I finally want to hear a story and you’re holding out?” When she looked down, she realized how close to him she’d gotten to examine his wounds. She could feel the warmth of his breath. They locked eyes, and on his face, he wore an expression unlike any she’d ever seen him wearing. Her heart started to race, and she didn’t know why.
He smiled, but he didn’t back away—not even as Aquira growled from up above. Instead, she could feel him slowly growing closer. “Well, we do have plenty of time,” he said softly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said a voice from behind them, accent thick as blood.
Sora and Whitney fell apart from each other and whipped around. Kazimir emerged from the shadows of the open captain’s quarters. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Did you think I would so easily allow you to leave?” he asked. “After all we’ve been through together?”
“Who the yig be that!” Tum Tum shouted from the bow.
Aquira flew down to Sora’s shoulder and growled. Sora raised her hand. It was still bleeding, but she couldn’t feel an ounce of that dark power roiling within her. No matter how she willed on Elsewhere, she felt… empty within.
Whitney’s arm extended in front of her as he stepped forward. “No need to burn down the ship.” He reached into his pocket and removed a roll.
“Kazimir,” he began in diplomatic fashion, “I have a writ signed by Yuri Darkings himself. You are released from your blood pact with Bartholomew Darkings, so we can just all move on.”
In the span of a second, Whitney was on his back, and Kazimir straddled him like a mare. Whitney turned away from the man and clenched his eyes tightly. But still, he held up the paper. “You wouldn’t want to upset your bosses,” he said. “The Master of Coin could be a powerful ally.”
“Not a soul will know what happens here.”
“Your Sanguine Gods will,” Whitney grated.
“Lords. And they know that a pact cannot be rescinded. Not even by a king, let alone some Council member. This paper is as worthless as you are.” Kazimir ripped it from his hands. His night
marish grin widened as he released it to the wind.
“Damn that family,” Whitney swore under his breath.
“I don’t understand, Whit,” Sora said. “You said the pact was ended.” Her voice shook. Even having Aquira on her shoulder, ready to fiercely protect her, didn’t make her feel brave. All she could do was stare at those terrible, soulless eyes, frozen.
“Clearly, father Darkings lied so I wouldn’t kill his son. I knew I should have gone with my gut.”
Sora’s stomach went tight. She knew precisely why Whitney didn’t go with his gut. Why he delved back in the city, helped Torsten... everything. For her.
“This is no longer about you, thief,” Kazimir snapped. “In time, Bartholomew Darkings will pay for his attempted retraction with his own blood. But I’m here for her.”
He regarded Sora, breathed in deep, and released a moan. The way his lower lip trembled made Sora’s skin crawl.
“Yes,” he said, a twinge of ecstasy lacing the word. “Cut, dash, slice, rend. The smell alone gives me a strength I haven’t felt in years.”
He leaned down and spoke softly in Whitney’s ear—something Sora couldn’t hear. Whitney’s face lost its color, and he stopped fighting like he was petrified into stone by the gorgons of legend.
“I suggest ye get off him and off our ship,” Tum Tum demanded. He stood beside Sora now, hammer in hand.
Kazimir rose but kept a boot on Whitney’s chest.
“My ship actually,” he said. “An entire night wasted hunting the two of you, and you come right to me.” He laughed, then looked back at Sora. “It’s almost as if our union were destiny.”
“Even still, yer outnumbered. Leave, or I’ll make ye.”
“Remain where you are, Dwarf! We have no quarrel, and that fact need not change. Besides, do you think your lumbering body is any match for me?”
Again, before Sora could blink, Kazimir changed locations. Aquira hissed and went to bite him, but he slapped the poor wyvern aside and sent her into the wall of the ship.
“Aquira!” Sora gasped.
The wyvern groaned but was still breathing. Sora tried to run to her, but Kazimir wrapped her midriff in a soft caress with one hand and placed the other against her neck.
“Take your hands off me!” she screamed, squirming, but it was no use. He was too strong.
Kazimir’s hand slid down from her neck, fingertips tickling her shoulder, then her forearm before finally coming to rest around her wrist. She let out a squeak. She couldn’t help it, his strength was unimaginable.
He extended his arm and with it, hers. Then, he licked a line of half-dried blood off her forearm. “We will be so happy together.”
Whitney sat up but remained silent. Whatever Kazimir said had to be horrific to still his tongue for so long. Tum Tum stood like a statue, watching in horror as the upyr called Kazimir had his way. A simple tavern owner from Winde Port had likely never seen magic, let alone a man move so impossibly fast.
“I will die before marrying you,” Sora said.
That seemed enough to shake Whitney. “Marry?” he asked. “Shogging exile, what are you talking about? This creature wants to marry you?”
“Watch your tongue, thief, or I will devour it,” Kazimir said.
“Whit, what do I do?” Tum Tum asked quietly.
“Just stay still.” The ship was beginning to lilt with nobody at the helm. Whitney slowly stood and wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. Kazimir squeezed Sora tighter.
“I don’t think you understand, Kazzy,” Whitney said. “Can I call you that?”
That was when Sora saw that mad glint in his eye when Whitney was about to do something monumentally stupid. Please don’t, she willed him. Please.
“Just weeks ago, we killed an actual goddess,” Whitney continued. “She wasn’t some two-bit joke wearing leather and silver clasps, flitting around the night like a bat. She was a real yigging goddess, and we gutted her like a fish.”
Kazimir chuckled. “If the spirits are correct, it was the dark-skinned Wearer of the Glass and the marked orphan of the Drav Cra who brought doom to Bliss. You were merely a distraction and she… oh, the power within you.” Kazimir again took a break from the conversation to take a whiff of Sora’s neck. She could feel his fingers fluttering from the joy of it.
Hate welled inside of her. It felt like Elsewhere, yet it wasn’t readily at her fingertips. No spark or preternatural heat. She cursed herself, cursed Wetzel for not training her better. In the distance was Winde Port, ravaged by the work of her hand. The fire seemingly fed on her anger and connection to Elsewhere even after it left her fingers. She had nearly won the battle for the Glass Kingdom all on her own, but now, faced with mortal danger, she couldn’t even help herself or her closest friend.
“Let them go, and I’ll come with you,” she said. Her natural instincts screamed at her, but she said it anyway. “Be with you. Whatever you want.”
“Sadly, dear, the time for courtesy has passed. You don’t need to want to be mine for me to take you.”
His breath was hot on her neck now. She could feel him against her back, an animalistic aura pulsating from him. His sharp fangs brushed her neck.
“Stop!” Whitney said. “Take me instead.”
“What?” everyone asked at the same time.
“Take me, right? I’m a Lord now, technically... I’m not one for bureaucracies. But that’s gotta count for something. The Wearer of White owes me, too. I can give you power, wealth.”
“Whitney what are you doing?” Sora asked. “It’s my blood he needs.”
Kazimir seemed amused. “I rejected a Darkings. What could street filth possibly offer?”
“How about this?” Whitney slowly reached into the folds of his clothing, leaving his other hand raised. Kazimir grew tense until Whitney pulled out the broken half of the Glass Crown. All the precious gems set in its point glimmered even under the dull moonlight. “This here is the Glass Crown worn by Liam Nothhelm himself. Well, half of it.”
“Meungor’s axe!” Tum Tum exclaimed, stirred from his trance.
Kazimir approached it, dragging Sora along with him. Even his dark, soulless eyes seemed to brighten with wonder. Whitney shot her a subtle wink.
“I stole it right off his head,” Whitney said, edging closer. “It broke while I escaped, but still has to be worth a damn fortune.” Kazimir went to grab it, but Whitney pulled it back. “Not so fast. You drop this pact and leave us alone, it’s yours. You can wear it for all I care.”
“Why should I not just take it?”
“Honor?” Whitney audibly swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Honestly, I was just trying to buy a second or two.” Whitney jerked the wheel to the side. “Ah hah!”
The ship lurched a bit, and everyone took a small step to the left, but little else happened.
“Shog in a barrel. I really thought that would have done more.”
Sora growled and used the minor distraction to kick Kazimir in the shin and escape his grasp. Whitney tossed her his dagger, and she caught it mid spin and whipped it around to plunge it into Kazimir’s chest. Her strike met only air.
“Hands off him, demon,” barked Tum Tum, brandishing his hammer.
Sora turned back around to see Kazimir somehow already holding Whitney.
“You children don’t seem to understand how this all works!” the upyr snarled, a knife to Whitney’s throat. Sora’s knife. “Every single one of you is going to die. The only question now is how fast.”
Kazimir pushed down on Whitney’s shoulder and with his free hand put pressure on his forehead, stretching the skin of his neck.
“You kill me, and your bosses will be quite mad,” Whitney taunted. “There’s no blood pact on me anymore. You should be going after Bartholomew.”
Kazimir laughed. “The Sanguine Lords didn’t request the life of Tayvada Bokeo either, yet he is dead.”
Whitney swallowed hard.
“How dare you speak hi
s name after what you did,” Sora snapped.
“Do you think anyone controls whom I send to Elsewhere? The Dom Nohzi’s days are numbered. Only I can lead them away from the fires of exile. We no longer need to hide in the shadows.”
“It’s okay, Sora,” Whitney said, smiling, trying to stay brave. “Just blow us both away. I know the power is in you. Sail off to your people and see where you came from.”
Sora knew what she wanted to say; that he was the only people she ever really had. But she couldn’t bring herself to.
“Just leave him alone,” she managed. “You’ve got what you want!”
Kazimir leaned down and licked Whitney’s wounded ear. Whitney writhed in pain. The sight made Sora sick. All he’d done for her, and this was how he was going to die. He could have sent her on her way back in the forest all those weeks ago when she found him, but instead, he brought her into his way of life. He promised to show her things she’d never dreamed of. Accepted her. Gave her a purpose, even if she didn’t love what it was.
Kazimir tore the crown from Whitney’s fingers and shoved it onto the front of his head so hard it drew lines of blood on his temples.
“I’ve always wanted to taste the blood of a king,” Kazimir whispered. Then, he sunk his fangs into Whitney’s shoulder.
“No!” Sora yelled as Whitney cried out.
She felt a sudden rage bubbling again deep within. There was a familiar taste on her tongue—a mingling of iron and ash. She’d tasted it before, felt it before, but something was different this time. It was pure—unbridled.
“Leave him alone!” she bellowed.
She wasn’t bleeding any longer, but she raised her hands anyway. She could feel the energy crackling around her fingertips. A blinding light bloomed around her hands—not just her hands, her entire body.
The light intensified and with it, all the strength fled her muscles like Elsewhere was sapping her. It was similar to conjuring a ball of flame or when she healed another’s wound, only exponentially more intense. Even when she summoned the blast that stopped Redstar in the Webbed Woods, it paled in comparison.
She almost couldn’t continue standing, yet she couldn’t fall. Somewhere in the distance, she heard screams. Familiar screams, but altogether preternatural. Her name. Someone was screaming her name, but she could barely hear it over the sound of a rushing wind. Her face hurt like she stood in the middle of a hurricane. But at that moment, she realized she was the hurricane.
Winds of War Page 31
