He was on top of her before her body landed. His palm rested flat on her chest, pressing down firmly at the base of her sternum. She reached her own hand up to grip his neck, digging her fingers into the soft flesh. A rush of cold filled her from the inside out. His hand. It felt like ice through her clothing, chilling her to the bone. Breath was no longer possible. It caught in her throat painfully with every attempt. Her eyes rolled back in her head, lashes fluttering unnaturally. The chill slowly turned into a pressure surrounding her chest. It pulled upward toward the man’s palm as if he were drawing her very soul from her body.
She kept her grip on his neck, unwilling to release her hold. Around her arm, the black aura she’d seen around the man’s hands began to creep over her own skin, bathing her in a blanket of shadows. What is happening to me? The breathlessness was increasing until her lungs burned, her free hand flailing wildly at the man’s head. Strained choking sounds emitted from her throat. She couldn’t last much longer without air – and the man showed no sign of stopping whatever it was he was doing.
A bright flash of light erupted from out of the corner of Leyna’s eye. It slammed into the cloaked man on top of her, knocking him hard to the ground. She clawed at her chest, desperate for air, still unable to catch a breath. The black aura remained over her. Through her confusion she couldn’t be sure what she was seeing there in front of her. Feolan. It looked to be him, bright lights dancing around her vision. He was struggling with the cloaked figure. Strange sounds reached her ears from where they landed, crackling like electricity between each strike they traded back and forth.
Air. She needed air. Her fingers clutched at her chest and neck, the movements quickly becoming sluggish until her hands fell still at her sides.
A face came into view overhead. The eyes glowed a soft grey, staring down at her in concern. She thought she heard a voice. The face was saying something. What was he saying? She couldn’t hear anything anymore. Just as consciousness was failing her, a sudden jolt jerked her back awake, air flooding into her lungs in a desperate gulp. Her back arched from the sensation, eyes opened wide, staring blindly up into the remaining light of the sky.
She was only somewhat aware of the pressure of a hand on her chest, resting over the base of her sternum where the man had been. The pressure of another hand was against her back, holding her shoulders up off the ground. “Come on, Leyna. Come back to me. Breathe.”
The clattering of horse hooves sounded across the empty road. She couldn’t see who was approaching, but even through her clouded thoughts she recognized the noise. Feolan was holding her. The pressure of his hand against her chest was helping her to breathe, fighting back whatever had cut off the air from her lungs. Black shadows still lingered over her skin, slowly edging away as a soft white glow spread over her from Feolan’s touch.
“Feolan, what happened?” Thade’s voice called out, coming closer to them at a surprising speed. It had been his horse she’d heard, coming from the other side of town. She wanted to know the answer to his question. Nothing made sense to her at that moment, her mind reeling over the events of the past few minutes. Magic. It had been some form of magic, but it was different from anything she witnessed Thade and Feolan use. It had been dark and foreboding, almost seeming to draw the life directly from her body.
She could feel Feolan’s hand patting her on the back, urging her to sit up. “Ven’shal. I don’t know where he came from. I went in to look for you or Commander Laoter and when I came out he was on top of her.”
Ven’shal. She’d heard that word before. Something her mother told her when she was just a young girl. Evil. That was the word her mother used to describe them. She wished she could remember what else she’d been told, but the details were hazy in her mind. She’d been too young at the time.
“Leyna, can you hear me?” Thade asked, bending forward to look at her closely. Using his fingers, he gently pulled up her eyelids, searching each eye individually. She flinched at the cold air reaching her eyes, blinking rapidly to push the feeling away.
“Yes, I hear you,” she coughed. Rubbing her chest uncomfortably, she looked over to the body of the cloaked man lying on the ground. He was motionless. Not even a gentle rise and fall of his breath could be seen from under the heavy fabric. “Is it dead? Please tell me it’s dead.”
Feolan and Thade carefully helped her to her feet, making sure she was steady before moving their hands away. Feolan remained at her side as he guided her over to the body, nudging it with the toe of his boot in disgust. “This is your true enemy in this world, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The hood had fallen away from the face, revealing a grotesque image of a man. The eyes were dull and lacking in color, staring lifelessly up into the sky. His skin was shriveled and ashen. It was stretched taut over his skull, making it look more like a wrinkled skeleton than a living creature. The ears came to a point like those of the Vor’shai. He resembled their people in every way outside of his eyes and skin. Had she not heard Feolan call it something else, she would have believed him to be a kinsman.
There was no doubt he was dead upon looking at him. The dark aura had dissipated, leaving him an empty shell of the man he once was. “Ven’shal,” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“She’s not ready to be fighting them.” Worry was evident in Thade’s voice, his head shaking dejectedly toward the ground. “Let us hope this was a simple individual incident rather than a sign that they have sided with the Namiren. If they have…”
“If they have, then we will have to plead with Queen Vorsila to send the Tanispan military to aid us. We’ll know soon enough,” Feolan sighed, rubbing Leyna’s shoulder comfortingly. The words and names being spoken brought back vague flashes of memories in Leyna’s mind. Tiny details she’d once known but was too young at the time to realize how important they were.
Pressing her fingertips against her temples, Leyna let out a heavy sigh, turning around to face the two men still standing silently there in the street. “I think I would rather chance the tavern than remain out here to wait for Commander Laoter.”
“I agree,” Feolan nodded, pushing the body with his foot until it was lying face down in the gravel. “While we are inside, we can tell them to send someone out for the trash.”
Chapter Four
Loud shouting echoed through the halls of the small home. Grandpa was always angry when he came to visit. There was always something that wasn’t to his liking, something he claimed would cost them favor with the Queen. All he cared about was the Queen. As long as the family was in her good graces, he had all the wealth and power he could ever hope for.
She didn’t understand what he was angry about this time. Something about her father. Leyna could hear him screaming at her mother about a disgrace to the family. What was a disgrace? That word sounded funny to her young ears. “Did you not think I would find out? It is the talk of the entire city! Everyone whispering about our family behind our backs at court. Is that what you wanted? Are you satisfied?”
“Father, you are the one who married me to that Ven’shal scum. You know Aviden had already asked for my hand in marriage before you decided to get in the way.”
“Damir is a very well respected man. Even if he is working with the Ven’shal, if you could find proof of that, it would raise our status among the people for having exposed a traitor. I fail to see how any of this is as terrible as you claim – unless Damir finds out his wife has been lying to him and his daughter is actually the child of another man.”
None of it made any sense. Ven’shal. Disgrace. She wished they would stop yelling. Her father was due home at any time and he hated when things weren’t in order. Grandpa had kept mother distracted. Dinner wasn’t even on the fire yet.
“And if I do prove him to be a traitor, what would you have done if Leyna had actually been his child? You would have her murdered. There is no way for this situation to have been any better. Either way, you will find it to
be a disgrace to the family just so you can disown me as your daughter and pass the family line on to Priel like you wanted to do before I was even born.”
Footsteps pounded down the hall toward where Leyna was sitting, smoothing out the folds of her doll’s dress. It was her favorite doll. She’d had it since she was born, keeping it by her side at all times. Wherever she went, the doll was right there with her, its tiny painted mouth and eyes watching everything happily. Some of the stuffing had started to show through the fabric of the body, but she didn’t care. She had plenty of little dresses for it to wear to cover the tears in the seams.
Her grandpa appeared in the doorway, his blue eyes glowing brightly in his anger. The tips of his pointed ears were bright red, lips pressed together tightly. With a solid grip he lifted her up from the floor by her arm. She winced in pain, grabbing for her doll as she lost her hold on it, her hands reaching out wildly to where it landed on the floor while her grandpa carried her over to her mother.
“Sarayi, I’ll have you know that this child will never be considered a part of my family. Do you understand that?”
“Father, let her go. You are going to hurt her.”
“I don’t care!” he shouted, dropping her harshly to the ground at her mother’s feet. Her lower lip trembled for a moment, preparing to let out a cry at the pain from where her head hit the floor. It went away quickly. She thought to cry anyway, but changed her mind, not wanting to anger her grandpa any further than he already was. “If you can do something useful for the family and find proof that Damir is a traitor, then I might consider continuing to accept you as my daughter. Until then, you are an embarrassment. I don’t ever want to see this thing again.”
Bending forward, her grandfather slapped Leyna hard across her cheek. She immediately began crying, more from fear than pain. Her grandpa was a scary man. Even her mother was afraid of him. He had raised their family up to where they were because of his strength. No man in Tanispa had ever dared to cross him and gotten away with it. His family was no different from anyone else. They did as he said, or they suffered the consequences.
Her mother quickly lifted Leyna from the floor, holding her close to her chest. “Get out,” she hissed at him, the anger in her voice causing Leyna’s cries to grow louder. She’d never heard her mother sound like that before. It was frightening.
The door slammed hard behind her grandpa as he left, rattling the paintings on the wall. Her mother stood there silently, bouncing Leyna gently to ease her crying. The skin on her cheek stung from her grandpa’s hand, tingling uncomfortably despite the length of time that had passed since he struck her. “Mommy, what is Ven’shal?”
“The Ven’shal are evil, sweetie. They use their tainted magic to maim and kill everything around them.”
“You think Daddy is evil?” The innocence in her voice caused tears to form in her mother’s eyes.
Shaking her head, her mother lightly brushed her thumb under Leyna’s eyes, wiping away the tears lingering there. “No, darling. Your father is a good man. A loyal Vor’shai. I want you to always remember that – even if someone tries to tell you differently.”
“Leyna? Were you listening?”
Blinking her eyes, Leyna gave an apologetic glance at Feolan, embarrassed for having been caught daydreaming. They were prepared for an attack, lying in wait of the sun to set before the enemy would come marching through the trees. Soldiers were stationed all throughout the mountains, armed and ready for whatever the night would bring. Leyna hoped their intelligence had been right and that they were in the right place. The southern borders had been left with only a handful of fighters while the main units traveled north.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.”
“You asked me about the Ven’shal and then I lost you. Everything okay?”
“Of course,” she smiled. The last thing she wanted to do was let on that anything was bothering her. “I am still curious about them, though. Since we have plenty of time before we have to sit here in silence. Might as well talk about something.”
Feolan looked her over curiously, clearly aware she was hiding something, but making no attempt to draw it out of her. His eyes stared into hers as if trying to decipher the answer somehow from them. “I was under the impression they covered that part of history in the classes at the academy in Carpaen. Didn’t you say you attended there?”
Leyna sighed helplessly, shifting her legs underneath her where she was sitting. “I trained there in combat and assisted the instructor while he taught the new students, but I didn’t actually attend other classes there, no.”
“Oh.” Feolan’s expression revealed his confusion. It was uncommon for a child to be part of a school without actually participating in the general classes. Especially a female child. Although the combat courses were available to them, they tended to lean more toward the other studies, focusing on history and writing. Most families preferred it that way, in order to keep their daughters safe from the violence. The Vor’shai were very protective of their daughters. Among those of the higher status families, the daughters were the link to the family heritage. A child’s mother could never be in question, therefore making the female the most reliable to determine the family line.
“It’s a long story. But with my rigorous training schedule, I missed out on the history lesson about the Ven’shal… among other topics.”
“Well, most notably, the Vor’shai and the Ven’shal were at war for years. This was centuries ago, mind you. Back when Queen Vorsila’s mother was still on the throne in Tanispa.” Feolan’s voice was thoughtful, contemplating his own words before speaking them. “You don’t know about the magic, either, do you?”
Idly playing with a piece of grass, she shook her head, avoiding his questioning gaze. She hated admitting to her ignorance. The humiliation felt less overwhelming when she didn’t have to look into his eyes. “My mother died when I was nine and I never really knew my father. Even at the time of my mother’s death, we were living in Mialan. There was little opportunity for me to learn anything.”
“That is nothing to be ashamed of, Leyna,” Feolan replied calmly, plucking the blade of grass from her hands to get her attention. She looked up at him hesitantly. He was still watching her, a sympathetic expression on his sharp features. With an understanding smile he handed it back to her, sliding his leather gloves from his slender hands. “The Vor’shai people have been blessed with a strong internal magic. We can utilize it to accomplish almost anything, but the methods can interfere with the outcome. It should only be used for honorable reasons; else we start to fall like the Ven’shal.”
Leyna carefully laid the blade of grass back down on the ground, her eyes locked on Feolan. “I don’t get it. So the Ven’shal and the Vor’shai are the same?”
“Not quite,” he chuckled. Rubbing his hands together quickly he pulled them apart, letting his palms hover a few inches away from the other. “Physically, we are essentially the same. Our bodies are almost interchangeable. It is the energy inside that makes us different. The Vor’shai rely on life and everything around us on this planet of Myatheira to utilize our magic. We can access most anything in nature through the power inside of us. The Ven’shal, on the other hand, are what we would call tainted. The negative energy flow inside them warps the things that they do. Where the Vor’shai recognize death as a part of life, the Ven’shal don’t cower away from the darker aspects of the magic.”
“None of that made sense to me, just so you know,” Leyna sighed, following the motions of Feolan’s hands with her eyes. She could almost hear the energy humming between his palms, a soft light radiating in the space between them.
“Look at it this way.” Sitting up straight, Feolan situated himself on his knees. On the ground in front of him, he pointed to a wildflower still budding with new life. “If you can visualize things as either light or dark, our magic would be considered light. This flower, for instance. It is alive and very much a part of the system of n
ature around us.” Gently, he cupped his palms around the flower, the soft glow Leyna had seen before now slowly enveloping the bud. Before her eyes it started to bloom, the petals opening up with a brilliant violet hue. “We can add to that life – even bend it to our own will in some situations. But we never destroy. Not that we aren’t capable of destruction with our magic, but the Vor’shai are very strict on how the power is used.”
“And the Ven’shal… they would be considered the dark magic?” she asked, still in wonder at the sight of the beautiful flower cupped in Feolan’s hands.
Moving his hands away, Feolan took Leyna’s hand in his, lightly sliding off one of her gloves. “In a sense, yes. You see, the initial energy is the same, but generations ago they learned to utilize it in a different way. The Vor’shai considered it sorcerous what they did. To us, once the life seeps away from something, the energy is returned to nature where it came. Magic should no longer be allowed to touch it. The Ven’shal, they specialize in death. Their magic is grotesque. Use of that magic is forbidden amongst the Vor’shai, but not impossible. A Vor’shai who uses it will show signs of the dark energy until it takes them over.”
From where his hands made contact with hers, Leyna could feel the thrum of energy flowing between them. It was exciting to her. After so many years, she finally felt the power flooding through her veins. Feolan was directing his own energy through her hand, letting it course over her and back to his other awaiting palm, creating a circuit with both of their bodies. “The Vor’shai and Ven’shal were content to co-exist all those years ago. Occasionally they would even come to each other for help, given the differences in things each were able to do. A Ven’shal could do little to manipulate life, so they many times would have to come to the Vor’shai, though it was frowned upon for a Vor’shai to seek out the Ven’shal for assistance.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 10
