Forest Fire (#2 The Legends of Regia)

by Tenaya Jayne

  Her hand shot through a thick, twisted bunch of vines. Ducking under them, Netriet found the opening. But as her body passed under the arched entry, a blinding light sliced through her eyes. A painful screaming filled her ears, and her body lifted off the ground, frozen in magic.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Forest dozed, her head aching and her eyes burning from crying. After the fiasco of the state dinner, and, for lack of a better term, breaking up with Syrus, Forest found she could barely lift her arms or keep a coherent thought in her head. Running home to her cottage had seemed the thing to do, but as soon as she arrived, the memories of Syrus when they were first together, there in her house, poured acid on her wound. He was everywhere. She'd held together shakily for the first few minutes after she arrived home, but when she stepped into the kitchen and saw Syrus' hair laying on the counter where she'd left it, the memory pulled her straight to the floor.

  Oh, how he'd looked then. When he touched her face to know what she looked like. Her true face reflected on the surface of his eyes. She heard his voice in her head exactly as he had sounded that night. "You're beautiful, Forest."

  "Oh, Syrus," she cried, curling into a ball on the floor. "What have I done?"

  And she cried more. She cried until her eyes felt shriveled and husked with no will to pick herself up off the floor.

  She dreamed she was back in the castle. The sound of her footsteps echoed through the long hallway. She moved steadily forward to the door at the end. The heavy door swung open, and she found herself in a circular room. Seven arched passages leading off in different directions confronted her. Forest stood in the center, the urge to flee pulling at her from behind.

  Through the first passage sat Christiana's empty throne. A light breeze blew from the throne, carrying a whisper. "Choose."

  Forest turned to the next passage. She saw her mother lying in the arms of Rahaxeris, and herself as a baby, cradled between them. Liasia's eyes cut right to Forest's. "Choose," she whispered.

  Forest shivered and turned to the next. Scenes of the war. Soldiers, both vampires and werewolves, dying in battle. The eyes of an entire army turned and looked at her. "Choose!"

  Ena stood under the next, looking down at the floor. She said nothing, just looked down.

  The next passage showed Forest the council chamber of the Rune-dy. Rahaxeris held up the necklace he'd given her. Her birthright. All of the priests turned their creepy eyes on her. "Choose," they said together.

  Forest turned to the next passage. An ache spread through her chest as she looked at Syrus standing in a circle of masters of the Blood Kata. His eyes, open and seeing, snapped to hers. "I love you."

  The last doorway filled with black fabric. Billowing in the wind, falling in slow-motion. Shivers rolled though Forest as she gazed at the cloth, a bitter cold sliding under her skin. Again, it was Syrus' voice, coming through the fabric. "Good bye."

  Forest turned away, wrapping her arms around her torso.

  "Choose! Choose! Choose! Choose!" They all shouted at her in quick succession, their voices rising to ear-splitting shrieks.

  The perimeter alarm jolted Forest from sleep. She sat up, her head pounding ruthlessly. The next second she was bolting through the house and outside. "Syrus!" she yelled, figuring blurrily it must be him. "Syrus, I'm coming."

  Forest ran quickly to her key pad to stop the siren. She skidded to a halt in front of the immobilized trespasser. The immediate let down of not finding Syrus quickly gave way to shock as she recognized the woman.

  "Please help me!" Netriet cried.

  "You! How…how did you survive? How did you come to be here?"

  Netriet looked wildly at Forest. "Please! A werewolf is after me! Please get me down!"

  Forest moved forward and placed her hand through the magic that held Netriet. After a few seconds, the enchantment released her. Netriet grabbed Forest by the arm. "Are we safe? Can he get through?"

  "No. He can't. Calm down. You're safe."

  "Where am I?" Netriet looked around, panicked.

  "It's all right. You're safe. You're safe," Forest used the same calming tone she would have used on a scared animal.

  "Who are you?" Netriet demanded.

  "My name's Forest. We've met before. At the lair, in Philippe's apartments. Remember?"

  Netriet blinked a few times quickly. "What?"

  "I looked different, I'm half shifter." It took Forest a second to remember, and then she shifted into the wonder woman look she’d used that day. "Philippe collared me," she prompted.

  "Yes…I've lost a few memories since then. I remember you now. I helped you lie to Philippe. And you offered to send rescue for me…You had a vampire with you, right?"

  Forest smiled. "Yes, that's right."

  "Did he live?"

  "Yes."

  Netriet's eyebrows shot up. "You love him, whoever he is."

  Forest was taken aback. "How do you know that?"

  "It's obvious. You got this look around your eyes when you answered my question about him."

  "Oh, well. Hmm…Why don't you come in and tell me what happened to you? You look…changed."

  Netriet's shoulders sagged. "Yes. I am changed…"

  She took a few steps toward the house and hesitated, her mind split and arguing. The warmth and welcome called to her. She looked at Forest and felt no threat. But her wild side clung to suspicions and thought of the knife in her pocket. Netriet tried to relax. "Do you have a mirror I could use? I'd be grateful."

  "Sure. Follow me."

  Netriet followed Forest into her house. Forest expected her to be shocked at the human paraphernalia, but Netriet said nothing. Instead, she scanned the living room quickly, presumably for exits.

  "Your home is very nice."

  "Thank you."

  "What was that outside that I got caught in?" Netriet asked.

  "My property was enchanted by a wizard a few years ago. There's no way around it, well, except, I suppose someone could scale the wall. It's really tall though, and I have other alarms. The noise and lights you experienced."

  "Hmm. Where is your mirror, please?"

  "I'll go get you one."

  "No!" Netriet shot out, startling Forest. "Sorry, I just…I was hoping I could look in privacy."

  Forest looked closely now at Netriet. She hadn't seen clearly the black marks on her skin or her odd swirled eye in the dark of the garden. "Jeez. What happened to you?"

  Netriet trembled and looked down. "I'll tell you what I can remember, little that it is. But please let me look at myself first."

  "All right," Forest said kindly. "Through that door there is a bathroom. There's a large mirror. Take your time."

  Netriet closed the door behind her. It only took a minute before her sobs traveled through the door. Forest tried to ignore them, though the sound brought tears to her eyes as well. She decided to let Netriet cry herself out and not bother her.

  ****

  Netriet looked at herself in the mirror, but it was the shadow that looked back. "I want you out of me," she whispered.

  The shadow smiled wickedly and winked her dark eye.

  Netriet leaned close to the mirror, examining her swirled eye. The darkness spiraled deep inside. Gasping, she pulled away from her reflection. She screamed at the shadow and slammed her fist into the mirror.

  ****

  Forest ran, busting through the bathroom door. Netriet crouched on the floor, her fist bloody, the mirror broken.

  "I'm sorry," she cried, her frame rocking back and forth. "I'll find some way to pay you back."

  Forest had never seen anyone so pitiable. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around Netriet. "Don't worry about it."

  Netriet laid her head against Forest's shoulder like a child. "I didn't…I didn't know…my eye. I'd seen the black scars on my arm but not the ones"—she choked over the words—"not the ones on my face. I'm scary. I used to be beautiful. Now, there's… something inside me."

  "What d
o you mean?"

  "I should have died. But I woke up different. There's something, not me, that lives inside. It's dark. It scares me. It grabs ahold sometimes and plays me like a puppet."

  Forest patted her back. "I don't have any blood here, but how about I make you some tea?"

  Netriet sniffed and nodded. "All right."

  Perhaps Forest should have been afraid of Netriet, unprecedented entity that she was. However, she found herself sympathetic and protective.

  After Netriet ate a little, Forest ran her a bath and gave her a pair of flannel pajamas. Netriet came out of Forest's master bathroom, hair dripping, struggling to button up her shirt.

  "Would you like me to help you?" Forest asked.

  Netriet looked embarrassed. "Thank you."

  Forest buttoned Netriet's shirt and tied a knot in the empty sleeve. "There you go."

  "What were you thinking about just now?"

  "Huh?"

  Netriet smiled. "You got this funny look on your face. Were you remembering something?"

  "Oh, yeah." Forest blushed. "It's just…something…him."

  "Who is he?"

  "His identity is still a secret."

  "What were you remembering?" Netriet pushed.

  "He asked me to help him button his shirt once. He couldn't manage it alone. He's blind."

  Netriet smiled. "Couldn't manage it, eh? Sounds like a ruse to me."

  "Yeah, I've often wondered if it was just so he could get his hands on me."

  "Did it work?"

  "Huh?"

  "Did he get his hands on you then?"

  "Only a little." Forest smirked. "He was laying a foundation. I'd like to hear your story. Would you care to sit on the couch?"

  Netriet sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Could I have a little more tea first?"

  "Sure." Forest put the kettle back on. When she came back into the living room, Netriet was asleep. Forest covered her up with the throw and went out into her garden to watch the sunrise. Her thoughts turned to Leith as she played with the key around her neck.

  Chapter Twenty

  The ground under Syrus' feet vibrated ever so subtly with eons of magic. The Obsidian Mountain cast a cold shadow over him. So many years he'd wanted to be here. Never did he imagine the painful circumstances that would cloud him when he finally arrived. His heart was tight, and his chest felt bruised all around it.

  He held Forest's image inside his mind. So beautiful. Too much had happened to her—she just needed time. He took a deep breath, trying to let his anger go. They would come back together. Syrus decided to try to tuck her away. He'd have no respect in the Obsidian Mountain if he showed up moping and whipped.

  Since he didn't have Redge to direct him, he decided to use his magic to open his eyes, so he would at least have some sight. He focused and pulled his power from his extremities and pushed it up into his eyes. The incantation flowed from his lips, and the pressure built until his pupils felt as though they would explode. He gritted his teeth and swallowed a groan before saying the incantation again. Then came the light, disorienting and burning.

  Maybe it was the influence of standing at the base of the mountain, but as Syrus' blurry sight came to him, inspiration struck, and he added a few new words to his incantation. Repeating them three times, he strengthened his weak sight, bringing more clarity and color. He innately knew the new words would also give him a longer stretch of time to see.

  The entrance, ornately carved from the solid rock, stood open a few paces away, domineeringly beckoning him to enter.

  "Syrus! Welcome." The pale lanky figure of a man Syrus had never seen, but knew very well, strode toward him.

  Syrus smiled. "Ithiel. Thank you for having me."

  Ithiel took Syrus' hands in greeting, his eyebrows rising as he looked in Syrus' eyes. "You're seeing."

  "Yes, a little. It's only temporary."

  "Extraordinary. You must tell me how you manage it, but first let's go in and get you settled."

  Syrus followed Ithiel through the carved entrance, his eyes straining to adjust to the change in light. The cavernous room was very dark, completely bare, and surprisingly beautiful. Light streamed in through random patches of black volcanic glass, giving the space the feeling of a cathedral.

  "We keep a room for opening portals, if you ever need to leave quickly." Ithiel pointed to a plain door on the far wall. "It's guarded by our resident ogre, Len."

  He led Syrus up a long stretch of stairs roughly cut from the rock. It seemed to take forever to get anywhere. The stairs wound around the edge. Occasionally passages branched off, but Ithiel ignored them and continued upward. Finally, they emerged into another cavernous room. The ceiling was domed, a black fire burned continuously in the center, and one side of the room opened to the sky. Syrus stepped slowly toward the open wall, not daring to get too close in case his eyes misjudged. It was like a huge balcony without a safety rail. He could simply step off edge and fall to his death.

  "Odd," Syrus said gesturing to the edge.

  "Only the best and some might argue the stupidest, spar in here. I use this arena to teach the value of physical awareness in battle. Care to try it?"

  Syrus laughed. "Not until my sight is gone. When I'm fully blind this will be no problem."

  "Still full of bravado, I see. But I feel your emotions rule you."

  Syrus blew out a breath and crossed his arms. Damn, if Ithiel didn't have him there. "It's a matter of circumstances."

  "Isn't it always?"

  "I thought coming here would help me regain control, but if that reason seems insufficient, or base, I'll leave."

  Ithiel waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be absurd. Why do you think most come here? Besides, I'm honored to have you. You have more right than me to be here. I'm not even a mage. In fact, you are the only mage to set foot here in a hundred years."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, indeed. The others are going to be so excited."

  "Where are the others?" Syrus asked.

  "Most are still away because of the war. I've only two tyro masters here now, and they are currently in the middle of their isolation."

  "So you're the only company I can expect for the next few days?"

  Ithiel smirked. "Disappointing, I know. Come on, I'll show you to your apartments."

  "There's the issue of my name and the fact that I'm still technically dead. How are you going to introduce me to the other masters?"

  "I'll tell them you are The Sanguine Mage, which you are, and that they are to address you as sir. Does that suit you?"

  "Yes, for now."

  Syrus' apartments were far from glamorous. Nothing short of what he'd expected, and he found the simplicity comforting. It was nothing more than a sleeping mat flat on the floor, a small rock fire pit, and a roughhewn window.

  He stood at his window, watching the sky, waiting to see how long his sight would last.

  ****

  A storm brewed under the surface in the Onyx Castle. Despite the smiles and courtesy, Zeren announcing his adoption of an unknown Halfling as his heir had shocked, insulted, and enraged the aristocracy. Treasonous whispers rippled through the halls. The discovery of Lorcan's body had added to the outrage but laced it with a heavy dose of fear. No one had seen Rahaxeris, but that fact alone didn't inspire enough confidence to bring about action. Those who had come in contact with Rahaxeris believed he could see and hear everything.

  Dracula had as healthy a fear as anyone of Rahaxeris, but he also had more arrogance. What Zeren did had deeply offended his sensibilities. But the murder of his nephew's son was the limit of what he could take. He began gleaning every stray bit of hushed gossip floating around the castle. Plenty of it was sensationalized tripe, but one tip led him to find Leith's cell. He watched it secretly for two days. The door was guarded around the clock by an ogre, switching in shifts once a day.

  Dracula didn't know for sure that it was Leith behind the door, yet he'd seen the deadly int
ent in Rahaxeris' eyes when he'd arrested him. But Rahaxeris was nowhere to be found. Dracula sent word to Leith's father, Vladien, to come to the castle as soon as possible and meet him at the servants’ entrance after midnight.

  After all of the servants had left to relax or go off to sleep, he waited. Vladien arrived promptly a few minutes after midnight, his white-blond head shrouded in a hood. They silently acknowledged each other, and Dracula led him to an empty storeroom. Vladien pulled his hood back, and the traces of grief pulled across his face.