The Other Worlds (The Other Worlds Series Book 1)

by M. L. Greye

  Dagon chuckled, more to himself than to Zedgry, and turned to Sazx. “Take him to Delvich.”

  “Yes, milord.” Sazx nodded once before waving a hand at Lorban to obey the command.

  As Lorban returned to his side, Zedgry kept his eyes on his uncle’s face. “Are you unable to answer my question?”

  “Patience, Zedgry,” Dagon replied. “You will find out soon enough.”

  “Can’t wait,” he muttered.

  Lorban latched onto Zedgry’s elbow steering him away from the throne, back towards the way they had come. There was no need for Lorban to pull at him, though. Zedgry knew he had nowhere to run. He was still weak and had no means of leaving the Vrenyx world. He somehow had dropped the shimmer stone in Relivaynt. It was for the best. The Nagreth would have stolen it from him.

  Sazx watched as Lorban led the Lantz out of the hall, frowning at Lorban’s behavior once again. The Lantz could have followed Lorban on his own. Lorban didn’t need to drag him.

  “Captain,”

  He turned back to Dagon, acknowledging that his new position had just become official. “Yes, milord?”

  “What do you think of my nephew?”

  Sazx blinked, but answered honestly. “He’s an excellent warrior, strong willed and intelligent.”

  Dagon nodded, while lowering himself back into his throne. “Why do you think he fights us?”

  Another surprising question. “I believe he feels a sort of duty toward his world, and perhaps a desire to avenge his parents’ death.”

  “Good observation.” He paused for a moment. Then, “I believe our plans are in need of some adjustment.”

  8

  ---------------

  For some reason, Will had the feeling he was in a hospital. Everything was white – the sheets, the curtains, the covers. Even the bandage on the upper portion of his arm was white. The only thing not white was his own bare chest, his skin a stark contrast. Will pushed himself onto his elbows. He felt disoriented. Why would he be in a hospital? He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d been awake. Vague images clogged any real understanding. Had he been fighting?

  “Will.”

  He turned at the sound of Olinia’s voice, recognizing it immediately. She had whispered his name, as if not wanting to wake him. A soft, pale hand snuck around the edge of one of the curtains and pulled it back slightly.

  “Hello, princess.” He smiled crookedly.

  “You’re awake.” She moved past the curtain to the bed, lowering herself beside him. “Aeorin’s still sleeping.”

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About a day.”

  “What?” Will sat up completely. Had he really been that tired? He rarely slept eight hours, let alone twenty-four.

  She nodded. “Fuladrik said you and Aeorin were both suffering the effects of exhaustion.” Her eyes shifted to the bandage. “Then, your arm was another mess entirely.”

  Will rubbed his eyes with his good hand and let out a short laugh. He was beginning to remember, and the memories weren’t pleasant. If he’d been asleep for the past twenty-four hours, then Zedgry had been in the Vrenyx for that long. Zedgry could be dead by now. Will felt his stomach grow sick. He feared for his friend. No doubt the Nagreth had brought him to their emperor. Will could only guess at what Dagon would do with the Lantz. He glanced back at Olinia. She was watching his face, her dark eyes grim. A thought struck him then, causing his eyebrows to pull together.

  “How did I get back?” The last thing he remembered was leaving the clearing with Aeorin. Zedgry had had the shimmer stone, leaving Will without a way into Evedon.

  Olinia frowned. “You would be able to answer that better than I could. One of Fuladrik’s stable hands found you and Aeorin slumped over Kae’s back, fast asleep at the stable doors. What happened to the shimmer stone? Didn’t you use it?”

  Will grimaced. It was time to tell her what had happened, the moment he’d been dreading. “Zedge had your stone, princess.”

  “Where is Zedge?” She said each word slowly, as if this was the question she’d been wanting answered all along.

  He took a deep breath. “We were attacked by Nagreth before we ever got to Oldron. They captured your twin.”

  Her face went pale. “Zedge is in the Vrenyx?” She swallowed and clamped her eyes shut. “Zedge is with Dagon?”

  Will noticed her hands begin to shake. She knew what Dagon was capable of better than he did. She let out a soft cry and clutched her middle. Will impulsively pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair with one hand.

  They sat that way for a few moments – Will holding her against his chest. He was finding it far too easy to comfort her and was enjoying holding her more than he should. He frowned at his own behavior as he asked into her hair, “Is there any way we can free him?”

  She shook her head, brushing her forehead across his chest as she did so. “We’d have to attack the Vrenyx world to reach him.”

  “Would that be too difficult?”

  “We don’t have an army, Will. We need-” She stopped midsentence, surprising him. He pulled back enough to see her face. She was staring at his chest, her eyes wide. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Oh.” Will had forgotten all about the little trinket Enrid Vel had left him.

  “Oh?” Olinia gawked. “You’re a Silver Heart!”

  “Captain Vel gave it to me before he died.”

  “So, you did find him?”

  He nodded. “He fought with us.”

  Olinia shook her head, in disbelief. “Will, do you realize what this means?”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Well, first, you just officially became a part of the Other Words, but more importantly, you just made saving Zedge a whole lot easier.” She glanced up at him. “We only need one more person now to invade the Vrenyx. If we have both of the Silver Hearts, then the Eves will be more willing to follow us in an attack.”

  “Oh.” Will brushed his fingers over the hollow heart. Despite its meaning, Will didn’t like wearing it. He had never liked to wear necklaces. They were too feminine. He glanced down at Olinia’s bare neck. Could she wear it for him? He furrowed his eyebrows. “Is it possible to give this to someone while I’m alive, just for them to wear it?”

  She blinked. “Yes.”

  “Good. Turn around.”

  “No, you can’t just give it to me.” Olinia was staring at him. “There are rules to this.”

  “What rules?”

  “If you give it to me to wear while you’re still breathing, then it signifies you giving me your actual heart,” she replied. “It’s an offering of love.”

  “Then just don’t tell anyone it was me that gave it to you.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’ll figure it out,” Olinia retorted. “It’s not like there’s a bunch of Silver Hearts to choose from, let alone ones I know.”

  “So, you’re afraid to wear it?”

  She grunted. “I’m plotting an attack on the Vrenyx, and you’re asking if I’m afraid to wear a necklace.”

  “Well, are you?”

  Her eyes narrowed at being caught by his trap. “No.”

  “Good, turn around.”

  Olinia obeyed reluctantly as Will clasped the Silver Heart around her neck. “Thanks, princess.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she grumbled, turning back around to face him.

  He watched her for a moment and then remembered something Zedgry had said in the clearing. “What does it mean to be High Royalty?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I thought it meant to be related to King Yrond, but Zedge made it sound like more.”

  Olinia pulled a face. She hated speaking about her own status, almost as much as her twin did. That was probably the reason why Will had never been given the full truth. They both liked to keep their birthright a secret, even though most already knew it. But now she had to tell Will. He should have been told a long time ago. “Well, it’s t
rue that you have to be related to the King of the Eves, but you can’t just be related. You have to be a direct descendant.” She paused, letting that settle in.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How direct are you?”

  “I’m his heir,” she answered. “My father was his son. When my father was killed, I took his place. I’m not just Princess of Caprith. I’m Princess of the Eves.”

  “Making you an important enemy of Dagon.”

  “That’s why I’m so afraid for Zedge.”

  “Then let’s go find that other Silver Heart.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?”

  Olinia stared at him. “You just woke up.”

  “I’ll ask Fuladrik if I’m healed enough to go.”

  “Fuladrik’s gone, Will.”

  He blinked. “Gone where?”

  “To the Crystal Castle, something about meeting with King Yrond’s Council.”

  “Did he say when he would be back?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Arynn wouldn’t tell me much, and she was the last one to talk to him before he left.”

  “Then we’ll go without his approval.”

  “Will, you-”

  “I feel fine, princess.”

  “Will, I-”

  “Olinia, I don’t think we can wait much longer.”

  “Will-”

  “Go get your things together.”

  “Will!” Olinia reached out and grabbed his arm, surprising him.

  He stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

  She pointed to the foot of his bed without moving her eyes from his face. He turned. The curtains had been pulled back, and standing not quite five feet from the bed stood a woman in a long, blue-green robe. She was stunning. Her deep burgundy hair fell in waves well past her shoulders, and her light green eyes shimmered like the surface water of the ocean. Will couldn’t stop himself from gaping.

  The woman smiled. “Trel olithna vressen elethness.”

  Olinia visibly relaxed. “Maeveena nessee denavee essena.”

  “Eemess corethness vereneen lon,” the woman replied, her voice soft, almost lyrical.

  Will frowned. This was a language he’d never heard before. It resembled Eveon, but had its own structure and sound. During the four months Olinia had slept, Fuladrik had decreed that no one speak Saerdian to or around Will. Fuladrik had wanted him to learn Eveon, calling it a necessary skill. Unfortunately, Will had never been good with languages. He’d taken three years of Spanish in high school and could still barely speak a word of it. Learning Eveon had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, especially in learning how to read it. He still struggled with understanding the strange alphabet. But he could speak it now, almost as well as Zedgry. It was what Will always used now when he went to the Courts, or when he was alone with Zedgry. Olinia still didn’t know he spoke it. He’d made Dallyn and Zedgry promise not to tell her, saying he’d surprise her with it one day.

  “Esseem laethess streen cortona elessna mortaw?” Olinia asked, sliding off the edge of Will’s bed.

  He furrowed his eyebrows. “Olinia.”

  She turned, surprised at his voice, as if she’d forgotten he was still there. “Yes?”

  “Who is she?”

  “Do you not understand Saerdian anymore?”

  “You were not speaking Saerdian, your highness.” The woman’s voice pulled Will’s head around.

  “What was I speaking then, m’lady?”

  The woman smiled. “Fraerian, princess.”

  “Fraerian?” Olinia’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know Fraerian.”

  “Our tongue is given to those of High Royalty. You will never need to learn it, for you will always know it. It is our gift to those of high blood.” The woman turned to Will, smiling warmly. “Greetings, Will Patten of Ethon. I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Fraer Isylyt,” she replied. “I have been sent as a representative of my kind to grant you safe passage into Andin.”

  “Andin?” Olinia blurted.

  “What’s Andin?” Will frowned.

  “It is my country, purely inhabited by my kind.”

  Country. There was a word Will hadn’t heard in the Other Worlds. The popular term was world. He raised an eyebrow. “What world is it in?”

  “Time.”

  He’d heard both Dallyn and Zedgry mention the world of Time before, but the concept still confused him. Perhaps now he would understand it. He glanced at Olinia. “Do you want to go?”

  She let out a short laugh. “We’re not exactly dressed for the occasion.”

  “Do not worry, princess,” Isylyt assured. “All will be provided.”

  * * * * * *

  Oldron the Wise gazed out over the barren field where only the day before a battle with the Nagreth had occurred. Aeorin, his beloved only child, had disappeared with the Ethon, according to the reports of his men who had survived.

  “Milord,” One of Oldron’s guards approached him. The guard had been riding over the battleground.

  Oldron turned. “Yes?”

  “I found this in the grass, milord.” He extended his hand. Oldron took the object. The soldier frowned. “What is it?”

  “It’s a shimmer stone,” Oldron answered after a moment. “I have not seen one for many turns.” He glanced up. “It must be returned to its owner.”

  “Do you know who it belongs to, milord?”

  Oldron nodded. “A young princess and her Ethon protector.”

  * * * * * *

  For the hundredth time since Lorban had brought him to Delvich, Zedgry’s thoughts drifted to his twin. He knew she was worrying over him, probably expecting him to be half-dead by now. Her thoughts couldn’t break the barriers set up by Dagon, so she was unable to contact him in the Vrenyx.

  Zedgry glanced out over the thin, ever-present layer of mist that hung above Delvich Forest’s muddy floor. Delvich was Dagon’s prison. Its massive trees kept his prisoners from escaping, making up the prison wall by intertwining with each other. Thick roots and branches made the gate. On the inside of Delvich, the ground and trees were slimy and damp. To Zedgry, Delvich was more swamp than forest. He had to continuously watch where he was going, or he’d end up knee-deep in grime.

  As a prisoner of Delvich, Zedgry wasn’t bound, or forced to remain in one area. He was able to move about the forest freely. There were no guards to keep him inside, but there was no way out either. The gate Lorban had shoved him through had disappeared the moment it had closed. Zedgry hadn’t been able to find it again, but then, Lorban had mentioned that Delvich never opened in the same place twice. The Nagreth always opened a new gate in a different spot, so as to confuse the prisoners. Little wonder that Dagon had so much confidence in his prison. It was practically impenetrable.

  Zedgry hit the tree in front of him with his fist. He was tired of wandering through the foggy, never-ending forest. He had been in it for nearly two days now. He knew this by counting the nights, which were only a few shades darker than the day. The sun never touched Delvich’s floor. Zedgry felt like he was back in Sivean, except now he had no little Astrilites to light his way. And, oh, how he wished for their company! At night, Zedgry slept against a tree, whichever one he was closest to once he grew tired. Mosquitoes would then come out – not during the day when Zedgry could see them, but at night when he could only swat at them blindly. But mosquitoes were nothing in comparison to the groanings.

  The “groanings” was the name Zedgry had given the eerie human howls. Like the mosquitoes, they too only appeared at night. Since the moment Zedgry had been thrown into Delvich, he’d searched for other prisoners. He hadn’t found one. There weren’t even any animals. But every night Zedgry heard at least someone, and he heard that person often. The last night, the howling had grown so bad that Zedgry hadn’t been able to sleep. His heart hadn’t stayed calm long enough for him to try. Around dawn, when Zedgry finally slipped out of consciousness, the ho
wling had haunted his dreams, waking him up in a cold sweat. Any hope for sleep was then gone.

  Zedgry looked up at the dark green leaves and moss that made the forest’s ceiling. Twilight was coming and, with it, the howls. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at just the thought of having to face another night. Zedgry leaned his hand against the tree he had hit and stared into the wall of roots and branches. As always, he couldn’t see past them. Zedgry shook his head, letting his breath out in a rush. He was close to giving up hope of ever escaping. His thoughts drifted to Olinia. He was realizing just how much he missed her.

  Suddenly, Zedgry heard the first of the groans, and this time it sounded far too close. Zedgry leapt backwards, away from the tree. Then he saw it. Outlined in the bark was the shape of a man. His face was distorted by either pain or horror. His hands were up, palms facing out, while his arms were bent at the elbow and his legs stood shoulder width apart. It was as if he was on the other side of the bark. No, he was in the bark! The man was imprisoned inside the tree. The groan had come from him.

  A mix of panic and fear washed over him. This was the reason why he hadn’t found anyone but had heard their cries. Zedgry’s breathing became shallow and stressed. Somehow his feet moved him backwards. His eyes darted from tree to tree. Each one held the outline of another person. There were both men and women, young and old. One tree held a little girl who looked to be no older than ten. Zedgry’s stomach churned and then he felt it heave. He dropped to his hands and knees, letting himself vomit up whatever was in his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead as he began to dry heave. Finally, his stomach calmed enough to stop his retching. He pushed himself up to lean back on one arm and wiped his mouth on the other, using his already filthy sleeve.

  It was almost dark now. Zedgry heard another howl in the distance. He fought the urge to glance back at the trapped people. Seeing them again would only terrify him further. Slowly, Zedgry raised himself up to his feet. He needed to save as much energy as possible. It wasn’t going to be an easy night.