by Nichelle Rae
I shrugged and started walking down the long hallway toward some chairs at the far end. “I don’t know. My only terrifying guess is that someone is on the hunt for her—not the necklace, but her, the White Warrior.” Ortheldo nodded and sat in a chair against the wall. I sat in the one beside him and waited as he stared off in thought. The look in his eyes was intense, and I couldn’t help asking, “You know something I don’t, don’t you?”
“I only have guesses.”
“Well, tell me. I’ve been wondering why you wanted to know about Azrel’s nightmare so badly.”
He straightened up and turned to face me. “Alright, you know the bulk of Hathum’s magic is the power of mind corruption, right?”
I looked at him skeptically. “Um, no. I really don’t spend my leisure time studying up on the entity of all Evil.”
“Well, it is. It’s what he does best. He gets into people’s minds in different ways and can do different things with them.”
My heart jumped up between my ears. “Okay, wait, before you get to your point, tell me how in the Shadow Gods’ Lair do we protect ourselves from magic like that?”
He shook his head. “Details on that later. Just know we’re safe right now.”
“Right now?”
“Mind corruption magic has its limitations. You have to be corruptible, and we’re not right now. But I think he might have taught his minions some basics of this mind magic. Not full corruption, but the ability to enter minds for lower-level purposes, like seeing things or learning things about the person whose mind they’ve entered.”
I narrowed my eyes skeptically, still worrying about how someone could remain unsusceptible to a magic that took over the mind! I’d never heard of such magic! How were we protected from it?
“Bear with me.” I nodded. “I think you’re right. I’m sure Hathum is on the hunt for the White Warrior. He could have been on the hunt for the past 3,000 years for all I know, but he’s hunting nonetheless. He wants her Sword badly because it’s the only thing standing in the way of his complete victory. Whether he knows about the necklace or not I can’t say, but his focus would be completely on searching for the White Warrior anyway. The Sword is more important than the necklace. I think the man from Blesska, the one you keep feeling nearby, is one of Hathum’s hunters.”
“But why would Hathum have to be hunting for her? Isn’t he all powerful? Can’t he just conjure up a spell to point her out?”
“The White Warrior’s magic has been inactive for 3,000 years. Probably during the majority of that time Hathum was healing from his creation of The Nameless One, which sapped him of almost his complete life force. My theory is that he lost track of the first White Warrior, Azrel’s father, while he took time to heal, and now he can’t find the White Warrior anywhere. I don’t know if he’s aware that Azrel’s father is dead. He might not have a clue who he’s even looking for, Azrel’s father or a new White Warrior.”
“Well, if this guy is one of Hathum’s hunters, he’s sniffing a little too close. Do you think Hathum knows who she is now?”
Ortheldo paused and looked worried a moment. “I don’t know, but he obviously has some idea of where, or how to look.”
“How can he have some ‘idea’ of Azrel’s whereabouts, but not have found her yet? Why doesn’t he just come and see if it’s her?”
“That’s where the hunter comes in. Hathum doesn’t know who the White Warrior could be, and Azrel hardly ever uses her magic, which Hathum can most likely feel her use.”
“How could he feel her use her magic?”
“Remember what Beldorn said about the necklace back in the woods of The Pitt? He said that any pure enough power of Evil can feel the presence of an equality pure power of Good. Something Evil enough can hone in on a power of pure Good. The same goes for the opposite—a being who is Good enough can hone in on a power of pure Evil. The two extremes are constantly at odds, and both are like a force of invisible pressure on each other. The pressure increases as the two pure forces get closer together—or used in this case, as far as Hathum and Azrel’s magic goes.
“Think about it,” Ortheldo went on. “Hathum is the essence of all Evil and the White Warrior is the essence of all Good. The two powers pull and rub at each other naturally and create supernatural friction just by existing. Hathum, however, has much more experience as a Shadow Wizard, while Azrel is still very new to her trade as the White Warrior. I don’t know if she can feel him use his shadow magic, but I’d bet our last coin that he can feel it when she uses her light magic. Even the very few, very small ways she’s used it in her life this far.
“That’s how he got the idea of where the White Warrior might be, and that’s why Azrel’s father and Beldorn told her to keep her magic a secret until she knew more about it. Hathum can feel it when she uses it! He’s felt it already and he’s sent hunters out looking for her.”
I swallowed heavy. “You know, for someone with only guesses, you sound pretty confident.”
He bowed and shook his head. “I wish I wasn’t.” He looked up at me. “I think the man you feel following us is using the power given to him, of basic mind magic, to search for any evidence of the White Warrior in Azrel’s mind.”
“How do you figure that?”
“The nightmare she had.”
My eyes went wide. “But – but if he got into her mind…”
“That’s why I had to know the details of Azrel’s nightmare.”
“And?” I pressed. Suddenly it felt like dam had broken in my chest and a flood of worry and panic for my sister filled me up to my eyeballs.
“I don’t think any of them know exactly who Azrel is yet.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I have no doubt that the man got into Azrel’s mind. I think the snakes represent his power as it swarmed around her mind, looking for evidence of the White Warrior. Afterwards when”—Ortheldo swallowed hard— “when he was…having his way with her,” he cleared his throat, “she said he was angry. I think he was angry because he couldn’t find anything. Also, consider the fact that he came into the room afterward, probably so he could see her white tears. It was a desperate attempt to get physical proof because the mind search failed.”
My face scrunched in confusion. “But how could he not see proof of the White Warrior in her mind? It’s a part of her.”
“Is it?”
I pondered what seemed absurd for the longest time. We sat in silence, staring at one another. Then cold realization washed over me. As I thought about it longer, my face went slack when a single memory came to my mind.
“Beldorn…” I managed, and Ortheldo nodded.
I was about to open this for further discussion when, in the same instant that I felt Evil nearby, my keen hearing allowed me to detect Azrel’s small whimper from our room.
“Something’s wrong!” I cried as I bolted from my seat and rushed to the door with Ortheldo on my heels. I turned the knob—nothing! “It’s locked!” I screamed. Panic gripped my soul. I desperately yanked on the knob while Ortheldo pounded heavily on the door.
“Azrel! Open the door!” I screamed.
“Azrel! Azrel!” Ortheldo hollered, pounding his fists into the door. We frantically kicked and pushed and pulled. We drove our shoulders into it numerous times, making as much noise as we could so she’d wake up before she could cry.
“Azrel!” I cried.
“What’s wrong?” a frightened voice asked from behind.
We both spun around. Loir.
“Do you have keys?”
“Do you have spare keys?”
Both of our shouts made him jump. “Y-yes, of course. What’s…?”
“Give us the key!” we both yelled.
Loir jumped again and shakily pulled a ring of keys from his belt. Ortheldo snatched them away and frantically searched for the one labeled ‘4.’
Azrel began to cry.
I sucked in my breath and held it, my head and entire body poundin
g with worry. I was blind to all other emotion. Get in! Get in! Get in! kept screaming in my ears. If the hunter saw her tears, Hathum, a powerful, ancient, ruthless entity of pure Evil, would come crashing down on my sister’s head!
Finally, Ortheldo found the key and stuck it in the lock. When it clicked I nearly knocked him over as I ran into the room. Azrel wasn’t my first thought, though. I pulled out my knife from under the bed and looked around the room while Ortheldo kneeled at Azrel side.
Where was he? My jaw hurt from my teeth clenching so hard, and my muscles were tight, ready for any attack that might come. I pulled open the closet—nothing. Then, suddenly, I felt the wind on my back and spun around. The window was wide open; rain and thunder pounded outside relentlessly. I ran to it and looked out. Instantly I felt those cold eyes on me. I searched the crowded street, using my keen Salynn eyesight to my advantage.
There he was—standing stone still in the middle of the busy main road, looking up at the very window where I stood. He gave me an arrogant, toothy grin and raised his hand, wiggling his fingers in a knowing wave.
My breath stopped and I spun around to look at Azrel. She was curled up in Ortheldo’s arms with her face pressed against his chest. Ortheldo looked up at me somberly, then pulled away from Azrel enough to show me the white tears dripping down her face.
Rage consumed me and the worry for my sister’s life scared me half to death. “NO!” I screamed. I spun back towards the window and, without thinking, leaped up onto the sill and out onto the overhanging roof. I went quickly to the edge and jumped to the muddy ground.
“Rabryn!” Ortheldo called after me from above. But I wasn’t listening.
He couldn’t live! That hunter could not take the evidence of my sister’s white tears to Hathum! I spotted him walking down an alleyway across the street. My teeth clenched and fiercely bared, and my fist tightened around the hold of my knife.
Two wagons crossed in opposite directions in front of me. Then I ran, plowing through the crowd, ignoring the freezing rain on my bare upper body and the cold, wet ground under my bare feet. Nothing else mattered but to have him dead! It was either his life or my sister’s, and it would be his death long before Azrel’s if I had anything to say about it!
My soundless Salynn steps didn’t alert him that I was coming until it was too late. In the lonely alley, I tackled him hard to the ground from behind. I lost my knife, but I didn’t care. My sister had been through enough her whole life! I was sick of her having to deal with nothing but ill fortune!
As we got to our feet, my fist flew out and broke open his mouth in an explosion of blood. He stumbled back into some garbage cans, and quickly I was on top of him again. I slammed my fist into his jaw, one, two, three, four times as hard as I could before he managed to gather his senses enough to throw me off him. I hit the wall of a building, smacking the back of my head, but I felt no pain.
My teeth still bared, I glared at him as he came at me. My knife was just at my feet but I waited, preparing to duck, grab my knife and thrust it up into his gut before he even realized he’d missed me. My Salynn reflexes were far more powerful than his!
None of that happened, though.
Suddenly, the narrow side of a wooden paddle came flying into my view. A sickening thunk filled my ears, followed by the sound of splattering gore. I grimaced at the sound, then cringed even more when I saw him fall to the ground. He barely had a head left.
I shifted my eyes to the source holding the paddle, and my face slacked at the sight of a pair of intense green eyes looking down at the body. Big, beautiful eyes, yet terrifying at the same time! They seemed to radiate with unseen light, however that was possible, but they were as unearthly and overwhelming as Azrel had said. When they looked at me, it was as if I was suddenly pinned against the wall and held there by some unnatural force.
I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat and gave a goofy smirk. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
The corners of her eyes went up as if there was a smile hidden behind that thick, tan cloth wrapped around her face. She carelessly tossed the bloody lumber to the ground and put her hands on her hips. A perfectly shaped eyebrow went up as those eyes rested on my naked upper body and bare feet. I blushed and suddenly felt very foolish. She probably thought I was mad, being half naked and barefoot in the rain like this.
I looked down and indicated the hunter’s dead body with my chin. “I was in a hurry.”
Her laugh, though muffled, was soft and gentle. Suddenly I found myself mentally begging her to take off her tan hood and mask so I could see her.
“Who are you?” I managed to say.
She indicated to my body with her chin. “You’d better head indoors, handsome. We don’t want you to catch cold.”
I felt my knees start to tremble at the graceful, fluid sound of her voice. When she had come to warn us about Ibalissa, her yells had come from distance. Choked by some emotion I couldn’t understand, I managed to nod, but before I’d even finished the gesture, she disappeared from sight.
I was stunned at first, looking up and down the alley seeing no sign if her, or any sign that she’d even been there, save for the dead body. Only once I was positive she was gone did I allow myself to sink to my knees. I realized my heart was racing and my lungs hurt because I’d forgotten to breathe. I smiled, remembering how I’d made her laugh and that she’d called me handsome. That alone gave me the strength to stand, with help from the wall, and I made my way back toward the inn.
Before I had even crossed the street, Azrel, Ortheldo and Loir came running out to meet me. They were fussing and asking a thousand questions, but I didn’t hear a word they were saying. I was lost in thought of those green eyes and that lovely laugh.
“Rabryn!” Azrel shouted, cupping my face in her hands.
“Huh?” I finally focused on her concerned blue eyes. “Oh, hi, sis.” Her brows dropped and she smacked my bare, wet shoulder. “Ow!”
“‘Hi, sis?’” she shrieked. “Is that all you have to say?”
I rubbed the shoulder she’d just hit. Water made skin extremely sensitive!
Ortheldo stepped in my view. “Are you okay?” he asked, placing his hand on my other shoulder.
Before I could answer, Azrel gasped, “You’re bleeding!”
I looked at my hand. My knuckles were bleeding slightly from my fight with the hunter. “Oh,” I said, not really caring about what was happening outside of my mind where the Tan Stranger wasn’t with me.
“‘Oh?!’ What’s the matter with you? What happened?”
Loir came running out of the inn with a blanket and threw it around my shoulders. I shuttered at the sudden warmth and pulled it tightly around me, only now realizing how cold it was out here.
“Is that better, Master Rabryn?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Azrel pushed me toward the inn. “Get inside before you freeze to death. Then you can tell me what happened.”
I found myself smiling about those green eyes and her laugh, despite the fact that Azrel was yelling at me like this after I’d just played a part in saving her life. Where did she come from? What was her name? I made a mental note to ask her the next time I saw her; I’d like to call her by her name instead of “Tan Stranger.”
A sudden commotion in the street made us all stop before entering the inn. We looked down the main road to see a heavily armed group of men plowing toward us. They were the least filthy bunch I’d seen so far in this scummy town. They looked like a group I would take for soldiers, but way too brutal. They deliberately shoved people out of their way who weren’t quick enough to move from their path.
The man leading the cavalry was an imposing figure. He was a little taller than Ortheldo and had broader shoulders, but Ortheldo was more muscular throughout his entire body; this man was a little on the slight side. He wore four swords on his body: one large sword one at his left hip, two more slightly smaller ones on his back, and the last one strapped to the
outside of his right thigh. Over his tight black pants, shiny black boots came up to under his kneecaps. He wore a dark blue coat that came down to his mid-thigh. It had two rows of gold buttons running all the way down the front and a red sash around his waist, and it billowed out behind him as he walked. He seemed heedless of the rain, and he was angry. Oh, he was angry. His face was set in a grim, unmoving expression, but his widened gray eyes betrayed his rage. His face was so red I half expected his pencil thin mustache and his short black hair to catch fire.
As the crowd wisely moved aside, a familiar figure walked with hunched shoulders and bowed head next to the proud man in the lead. It was Addredoc, with what must have been his father.
“It’s Thrawyn,” Loir whispered, confirming my thoughts.
All of us turn to face the approaching party. Azrel looked bored as she crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. I saw Ortheldo’s muscles tense and his jaw clench in preparation for a fight. I just waited to see what was about to happen. Addredoc looked like an abused puppy with a bandage wrapped around his head and a sulking, miserable expression. I couldn’t help notice that he seemed to be walking with an effort.
The big man in the lead, Thrawyn, suddenly turned and grabbed his son’s red robes in two tight fists. “Where is he?”
Addredoc looked terrified and pointed in our direction. Thrawyn looked at us, then stormed in our direction, nearly dropping his son flat in the mud.
Thrawyn stopped in front of Ortheldo, “You did this to my boy?”
Ortheldo was going to say yes, I knew he was. He was going to say yes to protect Azrel. I glanced at Addredoc, and from the pleading look in his dark brown eyes, I could practically hear him begging Ortheldo to take the blame. But, unfortunately for him, I knew my sister better than that.
Azrel pushed herself between the two men, facing Thrawyn. “I did.”
Thrawyn regarded her with disgust. “Step aside, princess. I have to kill your boyfriend.” Then he raised a hand to shove her aside.
“Touch me, and I’ll do to you what I did to your disrespectful son.”
Thrawyn narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. He studied her hard expression and considered what she was saying. He glanced at Ortheldo behind her, then looked at Azrel again. His eyes bulged. He drew back a fist, but instead of striking Azrel like I thought he would, he spun around with a yell and slammed his huge fist into Addredoc’s mouth. Addredoc went down like a sack of bricks, and everyone cringed or gawked at the sound of his jaw splitting in half.
