Like shooting stars streaking across a clear swept sky, we hurtled out of the water and landed on the rocky bank fully transformed and clothed. I noted we were entering directly from the front of the island and not through the water cave as usual. The change was odd.
My hair was already dry, floating in the stormy air beneath an angry sky and churning clouds. My shaky legs carried me forward across the dry grass and up the sloping hill toward the white-washed city, looming up ahead. I couldn’t help but remember the last time I had been on the island as we walked directly past the place where Zale and Bolrock stood silhouetted in the darkness, arguing about what move to make first.
We rounded a curve in the road which I knew would give me a view of the city, but what met my eyes made me gasp. This was not the city I remembered.
The white washed buildings no longer shone. They had grown dull in color, as though covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. They were pale, and desolate, the cracks in the walls standing out with a defined sharpness as though begging for me to see how far they had fallen. Columns, which at one time stood resolute, were splintered with fissures from blows and splatters of red stood out among the gray. The further we walked, the more blood-stained walls met my eyes and I tried to fight off the memories of what had happened here. I was succeeding at holding them back, but only just.
Voon led the way up the hill and we wove through the homes, where some mermaids and merfolk looked out to watch my passing with little regard for me. Black curtains hung from the windows. In their faces I could see the loss of their king and their anger. I shrunk away from their accusing stares; the varying bright and dark eyes glaring at me, as though I was the one who had killed their king.
Keeping my eyes focused on Voon’s strong shoulders, I felt the rhythm of my feet as they slid over the grime covered stones leading toward the palace. We cut across a pathway, and as Voon slowly shifted out of the way a sight like I had never seen met my eyes. I stopped in my tracks.
The wind blew my hair around my face, but all I could look at was the wide circle of blood stained stones and splattered walls.
And then I knew.
I had been standing not far from here the night of the attack, watching him cut down each Lathmorian who dared to come near. The image of his sharp glaring eyes and the anger reverberating through him, as he took down each opponent with the slashes of his blood-dripping blades, was one I would never forget.
Standing at the sight of it all forced me to face the reality of what he was, and could be again, if he let the anger consume him once more.
There was more to seeing the aftermath of the battle than a warning for my mind. Deep within my gut, the terrible guilt began to take hold. These were the merfolk who had taken me in when I needed a place to be safe from Morven. Although some had been barely less than hostile, they had kept me alive and risked their own life’s blood to rescue me from Hyvar. That rescue alone was enough to make me realize how deep my betrayal ran, when before my eyes was the remains of a massacre by the tormented man I loved.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I looked at the place, and I almost jumped when Daggin spoke. “We left it as a memorial,” he said. I didn’t respond.
I thought it odd to leave such a gruesome sight as a memorial to the dead.
His cold fingers grasped my shoulders and turned me away from it all, to reach the waiting form of Voon farther up the hill. I avoided his eyes and watched my feet as they gripped the dusty stones with each step and pushed me up the long walk to the palace. The closer we got, the stronger the image of what I had just seen grew. There was something about it which didn’t fit; a sort of mismatch I couldn’t put my finger on, even though my mind was trying to put all of the pieces together.
The palace loomed above us, its dullness matching the surrounding houses. Long black curtains hung from every window and they snapped in the breeze with a clarifying realness to what had happened here. It wasn’t until we had almost reached the entrance of the palace, that I realized what was so odd about the bloody circle where Zale had fought during the attack. All the blood from that night had long since dried and been covered in dust. Yet, I slowly began to realize there was a patch of brighter red, right where Zale had stood.
With an oncoming feeling of dread, I entered the throne room. The once crystal clean palace hall had dimmed in its vibrancy, dark curtains cascaded down from the high vaulted windows and the statues were draped in black veils. I could just make out the ornate marble faces looking toward the throne, beneath the gauzy fabric.
A gathering of merfolk huddled about the room and turned their heads in our direction. Their faces were expressionless and avoided my gaze as I searched for familiar faces. I couldn’t help but realize the group was smaller than any I had seen gathered in the room. The bloodied ground outside took on a whole new meaning.
Like a wake, the room parted as we made our way across the marble floor and closer to the throne where Tunder and Elik stood, ready to receive us. Beside them were the three princesses and I immediately looked to Kryssa. Her brow rested in a grim line, her eyes red-rimmed, but she showed no other sign of grief. One side of her mouth lifted when she met my gaze, and I wordlessly tried to communicate how sorry I was for the loss of her father. Nixie had eyes only for her husband, while her oldest sister stood back from the group, her hands resting around the swollen bump of her belly.
The patter of our steps on the marble floor came to a stop as we reached the end of the room, about fifteen feet from where Tunder stood. It wasn’t lost upon me, the throne remained empty.
“Welcome back, Lissie,” Tunder said quietly and I nodded my head in thanks. For some reason it felt as though my heart was in my throat and I was afraid of what sound my voice would make if I tried to speak. “Any troubles?” He lifted his eyebrows to my left, where Voon stood.
“We were pursued, but the guards went after them,” Voon’s voice echoed in the high chamber.
Tunder nodded, “That was to be expected.”
“I eliminated two, just as we left,” Daggin said suddenly, and the new leader’s gaze turned to him.
There was the flicker of a question in Tunder’s eyes when he looked back at Voon. Beside me, the large soldier startled as though just now remembering the events of long ago. I too had forgotten when Daggin had swum ahead, to provide us with a means of escape.
“I forgot,” Voon said when Tunder turned his full gaze upon him.
“Now is not the time for forgetfulness,” Tunder’s words were much sharper than I remembered them in the past. “What else have you forgotten to tell me? Are you absolutely sure you got rid of your followers?”
The words rolled off his tongue with ease and Voon’s shoulders slumped. Low murmurs passed around the room, bouncing off the ceiling to capture the silence.
Glancing between Tunder and Voon, I opened my mouth not sure if I should butt into the conversation. Whatever Voon was—and I had had my doubts in the past—he was loyal to Lathmor. After what he had done in getting me here, I would be eternally grateful.
“We’re exhausted,” I blurted out ungracefully and tried not to shrink back when Tunder turned his eyes on me. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, “We’ve swum all night and day at full speed, all while being pursued. Voon had to drag me for part of the way to keep up.” I was stretching the truth at the end, but if it would ease Tunder’s frustration, it would be worth it.
“As we presumed,” Tunder said as though he was uncertain of my level of intelligence, and I wondered at the change in him. “Regardless,” he looked back at Voon again, “you will report back to me in three hours after you’ve rested. I need a recount of what happened, and who was killed.” At the end of his speech, he looked to Daggin.
Both of the soldiers by my sides nodded and turned on their heels to leave, but not before I met Voon’s gaze. He gave me an odd look that wasn’t laced with accusation; just maybe my words had won him over.
Pr
obably took him by surprise, I thought.
Nixie left after her husband and I noted the change in her walk. She used to move as though tiptoeing on clouds, now the ground beneath her was solid and resistant beneath her feet.
The disappearance of my two companions left me feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long time. All eyes were on me. I felt the many unfriendly gazes as though they were hands grabbing onto my arms and legs. I wanted to still the tremor of my heart, but had no way of doing it without outwardly showing my fear. Unsure of what else to do, I tilted my chin upward and met Tunder’s cool eyes with my own.
The Captain cleared his throat and began to speak in a tone which reminded me of a judge following through procedures. “Lissie, you have been brought here today from your home due to the death of King Oberon.” There was a twitch in his mouth when he said the king’s name. I wondered if the harshness in his eyes was a result of the grief they all so clearly suffered from. “Before his death, the king told his advisors if anything should happen to him, you were to be brought back to Lathmor. Even if it was before your impending birthday.”
I shifted under his gaze for a moment and caught myself. I rubbed my forehead and flicked my hair behind my shoulder, the strands settling moments later.
“For the duration of your stay, you will be accompanied by either Kryssa or Elik, until we deem it appropriate for you to move about on your own.”
He finished his well-rehearsed speech and a hardness formed in my chest as the reality of what he was saying hit me. This was one step above being put in a dungeon; to be watched at all times was Tunder’s way of saying he didn’t trust me and wouldn’t at any point in the near future.
With a coldness of my own, I lifted my chin and nodded in his direction. “If you believe it’s necessary, Captain,” I said, making sure to keep my voice calm. The muscles around his jaw flexed in response, but it was the only inclination he gave as to having heard my words.
“For the duration of Lissie’s stay,” he said, to the surrounding Lathmorians, “she is not to be harmed in any way or questioned for her actions.” Grumbles met his command, but it appeared to be in acceptance if not annoyance.
Questioned for my actions?
“You are dismissed,” the leader’s eyes met mine and I nodded in his direction, as the Lathmorians dispersed out the main entrance. Through the murmuring voices and shuffling feet, Kryssa made her way toward me and as much as I wanted to smile, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Come on,” she said and grasped my arm with chilled fingers, only to let go as soon as we were out of the throne room. I followed her without question, as we made our way down the many halls and sloping staircases into the deeper recesses of the palace.
The large structure had at one time been confusing to me, but I now knew the pathways and twisted passages as well as my home in Coveside. There was a familiarity here which I at once treasured, and tried to forget.
It was during my stay on Lathmor, in preparation for the rescue attempts of Patrick, when I had come to know this place. To me, the hallways cried out the desperation and fear I had felt during those weeks as I waited for each rescue party to come home with Patrick in their midst, only to have those hopes shattered every time Tunder returned.
Kryssa’s bedroom loomed up ahead and we entered the small space without ceremony. The room, similar to the rest of the palace, was covered in black veils and dark curtains draped from the one window which stood across from the door; the window I had crawled through on the night the Hyven attacked Lathmor.
Kryssa moved from behind me and went to her closet, returning with a fresh pair of pants and a shirt. “Here,” she said and handed them to me. “You’ll need your rest.”
I nodded and fought back the yawn threatening to break through my lips at the mention of sleep. The muscles in my legs trembled at the idea of actually being able to relax. After the constant push through the entire night, and day, it almost seemed impossible I would be given the chance to rest.
The discarded black clothes lay in a pile on the floor as I stepped into the new ones. Pushing the dirtied clothing aside, I slipped beneath the fine covers on the puffy bed. Kryssa stood to the side casting curious glances in my direction, I knew it was because of the scar on my arm. She had never seen it before. The last time we had spoken I had kept myself covered, and as far as I knew, Tunder and Elik hadn’t told her what had happened the night Bolrock tortured me.
Lying down, a sigh escaped my lips that I meant to keep in, but it felt too wonderful to be encompassed by the softness of the mattress caressing my legs. Even though late afternoon sunlight was filtering into the room, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. For the first time in what seemed like ages, I didn’t have a nightmare.
Upon waking, it took me a moment to figure out where I was. The sun pouring in through the window was much too cheerful behind the dark curtain, trying to blot it out.
Everything in the room proclaimed death. Outside the sky was attempting to lighten up the dark interior, but it was held at bay by the thick fabric, and only let in enough light to show it was daytime rather than night.
Looking up at the ceiling, I wondered what time it was. It felt as though I had been asleep for a very long time. I pushed myself up into a sitting position and searched the room, surprised to find myself alone. The words Tunder had spoken earlier ran through my mind and I wondered if he knew Kryssa and Elik were not by my side.
Beside the door on a little table was a plate of food and a cup, to which upon noticing my stomach gave a loud rolling grumble. I pushed the covers aside, made my way to the plate and devoured some of its contents as I sat back down on the bed, plate in hand. Slowly, the aching in my stomach subsided, and as I drank the water I began to notice how quiet it was in the room. Usually, I was able to hear the wind moving outside the open window and sometimes the crashing waves of the ocean drifting on the breeze, but neither sound reached my ears now and I doubted the curtain was so thick as to withhold it.
Crossing the room to get a closer look, I pulled the dark fabric back to reveal a glass window pane covered with iron bars. A sinking feeling filled the pit of my stomach and I realized I had been wrong about Tunder’s words. I had thought they were going to give me some leave on the island, if I was only accompanied by Elik or Kryssa, but it appeared it wouldn’t be that way. Instead, I was to be held captive.
Cursing myself for my stupidity in thinking the best of Tunder, I realized just how far I had sunk in his opinion. After the events on the island, and what had happened when he had seen Zale for the first time, I had hoped he would come around. But I now realized everything I had done had been without his knowledge. What else could give him more reason to keep me a prisoner here on Lathmor?
As if confirming my beliefs, I noticed the bars on the window were facing in so I could touch them. They were in place to keep someone from getting out, not for keeping an enemy from getting in. Sighing, I sat back down on the bed and rubbed the scar on my arm with my hand. Sometimes upon waking, it festered as if it were still an open wound. It felt like an itch underneath my skin that I couldn’t quite reach.
At least this is better than Hyvar, I thought and consigned myself to waiting patiently on the bed for whoever would come to check on me.
After what seemed like hours, I got up and walked to Kryssa’s closet to find something to wear. The light pajamas she had given me felt grimy against my skin and I wanted to be ready for whatever was coming for me today. The sun moved slowly in the sky when I laid back down on the bed and watched it move closer to the tops of the trees. Now that the curtain was pulled back from the window, the pale light entered the room and shadows from the iron bars made crisscross designs over my body.
Finally, there came a click of the lock in the door and I sat up on the bed to await the arrival of my prison keeper. The term was dramatic, but I didn’t know how else to think of them. Of course, the hospitality already offered me was leaps and bound
s ahead of what Gell had done. But at Hyvar, I had expected worse. I never thought I would be held captive in Lathmor.
The door creaked and Kryssa’s familiar face peeked around the door. Upon seeing me sitting in the bed, she entered with more noise than before and closed the wood with a solid click.
“Hi,” I said, and she nodded in my direction as her eyes carefully swept the room. What she was looking for, I had no idea.
She stood for a moment near the door, her hand twitching at her side as she shifted from foot to foot and every now and then glanced my way. I had never seen her behave as such. Normally, she was so forward I had become used to her telling me everything she was thinking. I felt as though I was treading in new water, and there was an even greater distance between us than when I had left the island a few months ago.
“Do you need anything else to eat?” She asked, her words direct, reminding me of Tunder’s tone in the throne room.
“No,” I said, trying to be more casual than she was.
“Okay,” she said and nodded her head. Her eyes flicked to mine for a second and I noted the redness around the edges again. She had been crying.
“Are you all right?” The words popped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop them, and she looked back at me again. Her face was a mask I couldn’t read, but when she opened her mouth to speak her voice was softer than before.
“Of course,” she said although her eyes spoke differently and she shook her head as if to dispel an idea. Her gaze shifted to my left arm and I looked down at the blatant scar, boldly crawling out from underneath the cap sleeve of the black shirt and running to my elbow.
“When did you do that?” she wondered. I looked up, expecting to see her still looking at my scar, but her eyes were gazing at my forearm.
My dagger was in its usual resting place and the intertwined mertails were evident in the dark wood; the scales standing out as though proclaiming their presence. The last time she had seen it the wood had been smooth.
Torrents (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 3) Page 7
