by M. L. Greye
Then, all at once, her hand began to burn. Olinia yanked it away from the glass and stared. The burning only increased, traveling up from her fingers to her wrist. She cried out in surprise and fell back a step, catching her foot on the curtain as she did so. She stumbled backwards, landing hard on her back. As she gasped in for air, she felt the burning inch its way up to her elbow. The pain intensified with its expansion. Olinia gritted her teeth and clutched her burning arm to her chest. What was the matter with her? She raised herself up to a sitting position and her arm began to throb with each of her heartbeats.
Olinia began to tremble. She couldn’t remember a time that she had ever felt this before. The burn was really more of an itching sensation, sort of like a million tiny bites up and down her arm. Olinia pulled the flaming arm away from her chest to inspect it. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it on the outside. At least, she couldn’t see any marks or bites. She stretched out her fingers, bending each one to make sure they were working. It was then that she realized they were glowing. No, glowing wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t her fingers that were creating the dull aura of light – it was the air around her fingers.
“Oh,” Olinia breathed, suddenly realizing where the light was coming from. It was from an awaiting image. Someone, somewhere, was urging her to Globe. There was something she needed to see.
Slowly, Olinia pushed herself to her feet and lifted her arm in front of her. The air around her fingers grew brighter, as did the intensity of the burn, causing her fingers to twitch. Olinia grimaced. Usually when she Globed, she would focus on the memory or dream she wished to see. Never had she been able to locate an image from the mind of another, mostly because she had never tried. In order to do so, she would have had to link with the person’s mind while he gave her the scene from his thoughts. She was finding it difficult to grasp onto the image that her hand was begging to distribute. How could she open a scene that she couldn’t even see in her mind? Unfortunately, her hand didn’t offer any suggestions. Instead, it just ached worse, and the light began to stream out into the dark space.
“Princess?”
Will’s hand on her shoulder pulled her around just enough to jerk her hand through the air, creating a trail of light. Olinia cried out with the sudden jolt of pain that shot through her as the light spread outward. She almost lost her footing, but Will’s arms enveloped her, keeping her upright. It didn’t take long for the light to change in color, becoming the shades of blue and silver Olinia was used to. She watched with fascination as the color continued to spread. Within moments they were surrounded, captives to the orb Olinia had created. It was just what Olinia had expected, except there was no real picture. In the past, whenever Olinia had Globed, the blue and silver gave way almost immediately to the true colors of the image she wished to see. Now, there was only the blue and silver. It was as if she and Will were stuck inside a huge crystal ball. Who had wanted her to see this?
As if to answer her question, three robed figures stepped through the surface of the sphere. Both Will and Olinia took a step backward instinctively to make room for their visitors. But Olinia realized there had been no need. The orb expanded on its own.
Olinia furrowed her eyebrows as she inspected the three figures. The one to her left was a tall, willowy woman who looked to be in her early thirties and had flowing golden hair. Her young eyes were a honey color with flecks of dark green. The heavy robe she wore matched her eyes almost perfectly – its mass golden and its embroidery the color of moss. Beside the woman was a broad shouldered man, his graying beard thick, covering up most of his face. His wavy dark hair was cropped just above his shoulders, some strands escaping across his forehead. His eyes and robe were a pale, clear blue. Then, the final figure, standing the farthest to the right, was a young man with short, white-blond hair. He couldn’t have been any older than Olinia. His jade eyes were exotic and luring, set beneath light brown eyebrows. His thick robe was a mix of several shades of green, a flawless reflection of his eyes, and sat a little tight around his shoulders.
The young man smiled. “Greetings, princess.”
Olinia felt her jaw drop. “What?” Had he really just spoken to her? Or had she imagined it? Images couldn’t see her. Whenever she Globed she was invisible to everyone and everything around her.
He laughed lightly. “Would you prefer a hello instead?”
“You can see me?” Olinia was gaping.
“And hear you.”
Olinia’s mind searched for the right words to formulate the sudden rush of questions, but ended up with only a brief, “How?”
“Did Isylyt and Emrys not warn you about our arrival?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. Her low voice reminded Olinia of the wind.
“You’re the Leaders?” Will’s rough voice startled Olinia. She had forgotten he was behind her, even though his arms hadn’t released her.
All three simultaneously bent at the waist. “At your service,” the young man replied once they had straightened.
The woman nodded slightly. “I am Leader Talyn, protector of mothers.”
“Leader Staleth,” the bearded man said, his voice deep. “I am the surveyor of wisdom.”
“And I am Leader Blann, guardian of youth.” The young man winked. “We have come as representatives of our kind.”
Olinia blinked, remembering what Isylyt had said the first time they had met. The words had been the same. That surprised Olinia. Weren’t the Leaders the Fraers who had sent for her and Will? If so, why would they call themselves representatives? Were they not Fraers? Olinia peered closer at the robes. Their embroidery seemed to be the same ivy-leaved pattern Isylyt and Emrys had. Olinia frowned, deciding to voice her confusion. “Your kind? Are you not Fraers?”
“We are Leaders,” Blann explained. “Our responsibilities differ from that of the Fraers, but yes, technically we are Fraers.”
“What sort of responsibilities?” Will asked.
“Within each generation there are different groups of people,” Talyn answered. “Each one requires special attention. It is our duty to be sure that our assigned genre, if you will, is not utterly destroyed from the Other Worlds.”
Will nodded once. “So you’re protectors.”
“Something like that.” Blann grinned.
“But why have you sent for us?” Olinia frowned.
“To give you what is rightfully yours,” Staleth told her. “We have kept them safe as promised. Now, they are yours to do with as you please.”
Olinia couldn’t help staring. “You have something for us?”
“Two things actually,” Blann corrected.
Will glanced at Olinia. “And they’re for both of us?”
“One for you, and one for the princess.” Talyn nodded.
“Why for me?” Will still kept his eyes on Olinia.
“You are much more connected to the Other Worlds than you realize, Will Patten. But you will soon find out for yourself.” Blann glanced at his two companions, his eyes inquisitive. They both nodded without turning to him. Blann smiled. “Are you ready for your gifts?”
“Yes,” Olinia said simply.
“Then open your door.”
Olinia blinked. “My door?”
But she’d asked too late. The three Leaders took a step backwards, disappearing into the light behind them. Olinia waited a moment to see if anything else would happen. When nothing did, she grunted and waved her hand in the opposite direction that she had earlier. The light gave way to the darkness of her room, thrusting them back into reality.
Will slid his hand from the small of Olinia’s back to her elbow and pulled her forward. “Come on.”
“To where?”
“Where do you think?”
They reached the door in three steps. Will grasped the brass doorknob with his free hand and pulled it open. Their eyes dropped to the floor simultaneously and found a sword with a scroll wrapped around its hilt. Will glanced at Olinia before bending over
to grab it. Once again, Olinia found herself staring.
“A sword and a scroll?” Olinia watched as Will slipped the scroll off of the sword’s hilt and offered it to her.
“I doubt this is for me.”
She let out a short laugh. “You’re probably right. Princesses aren’t really given swords, and especially not from Fraers.”
“Well, you never know.” Will smiled crookedly as he shut the door.
“Guess there’s one way to find out.” Olinia headed for her room’s window.
She pulled back the curtains with one hand. Gray light filtered into the room. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough for her to read by. As Will joined her, she broke the scroll’s wax seal and pulled the two ends apart, revealing white parchment.
It was in Eveon. Olinia noted the Eveon penmanship. The letters were perfectly formed, which meant that the scroll’s author had been well educated, perhaps a scholar. Olinia shifted her eyes from the body to the first line. She felt Will’s gaze on her face as she read the words out loud. “My dear child and heir.”
Olinia stopped, realizing what she had just read. The scroll was a letter, a letter to her from one of her parents. She sank to the floor.
Will crouched beside her. “Olinia, you alright?”
“I think it’s from my father.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s talking about Balinorre,” she answered. “My mother wasn’t alive during Balinorre.”
“Here,” Will extended his hand, “let me see.”
“It’s in Eveon.”
He chuckled. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
“What?” Olinia blinked. “You can read Eveon?”
“I was going to tell you eventually, princess.”
“When?”
His replied in Eveon, “I had to keep myself busy somehow during those four months, princess. Swordplay can get old after six hours of it everyday.”
“After only four months you speak like this?” Olinia asked in Eveon.
He laughed. “Zedge told me it took you a good six months before you were even able to communicate flowing sentences.”
Olinia grunted. “Where I lack in linguistics, I make up elsewhere.”
“Right.”
She rolled her eyes. “Will you just read it already?”
He began…
* * * * * *
Fuladrik was weary. As a member of King Yrond’s Council, his attendance was required at every meeting. Unfortunately, the meetings regarding the young princess and her twin had carried on far longer than was necessary, and they still had yet to come to a conclusion. Fuladrik shook his head in disgust. Lately, some of the Council had become arrogant and unyielding. They no longer gave heed to the thoughts and opinions of others.
As Fuladrik neared the gates of Willowvale, a troubled sigh escaped his lips. Why had the Council rejected his proposal of informing their king of his grandchildren’s whereabouts? It had been Yrond’s one request before going into hiding. A cold chill settled over Fuladrik, despite the warm morning air. The Council was allowing its pride and newfound lust for power to corrupt its thinking. Fuladrik’s mouth hardened into a thin line. He was going to have to take measures into his own hands. King Yrond did need to be informed, and Fuladrik knew where to find him.
9
---------------
True to his word, Archrin had kept Tiara’s ability a secret. It was as if he’d never discovered it. But he did know, and during the past few days, Tiara’s attitude towards him had changed.
Instead of her usual inner hatred, an unusual attraction was forming. But it was an attraction she was forced to ignore. She still had to be infatuated with Foehn, even permitting him to kiss her once. And oh, what an experience! The whole time Tiara struggled to keep down her dinner. The urge to release it into his mouth had been almost overwhelming. Afterwards, Tiara immediately washed out her mouth a few hundred times in the kitchen, where she knew Foehn would never venture. But she hadn’t planned for Archrin. He walked in on her while she was still in the midst of her gargling. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her, before finally asking what she was doing.
When her answer was that she’d just tasted Foehn’s impure lips, Archrin broke out into laughter, which only infuriated her further. Foehn’s mouth had stolen the last of her patience. Archrin’s reaction to her pain made her about ready to throw herself at his throat. Then, all at once, Archrin was to her, his arms enveloping her body, pulling her against him. He smiled slightly and without a word bent his head, kissing her softly. The utter shock that shot through her blocked out any messages from her brain to her body to shove him away, leaving her helpless in his arms. When he finally did pull back, Tiara stood frozen in place, breathless. His kiss was night and day in comparison to Foehn’s.
That had been two nights before, and Tiara was on the verge of insanity. After releasing her to go to bed, Archrin had promised to keep Foehn too busy to have time to force his mouth on her again. So far, Archrin had kept his word. But he had also kept himself from her. Why had he kissed her after hearing what Foehn had done? But more importantly, why hadn’t he said a word to her since? Tiara was in need of some answers. Unfortunately, she hadn’t really seen him during the past two days. As the commander of an entire city, especially one the size of Graymark, Archrin’s days were long and exhausting. He was up before dawn and didn’t return until near midnight.
Tiara groaned and rubbed her eyes with one hand as an image of Archrin’s deep, mismatched eyes flashed across her inner vision. She still had yet to determine what his violet eye meant, and she was sure it meant something. She grimaced. There was so much about him she didn’t know – nor should she want to know. He was, after all, a Kendren. She should be treating him with the same disgust she did Foehn. But Foehn didn’t fascinate her. The only fact about Archrin’s past Tiara knew was that he’d joined the Kendrens at age twelve in his home world of Tlaid, as means of supporting his two younger sisters. His parents had died by some epidemic, and he needed money for his aunt and sisters. Tiara didn’t know much else about him. She wasn’t even sure if his sisters were still alive. Archrin never spoke of them, which made Tiara think that they too had died.
A knock sounded on her door, bringing Tiara’s head around. She panicked for a moment, fearing it was Foehn, but then she noticed the sunlight sneaking past the edges of her window’s curtains. She blinked and sat up, letting her blankets fall around her waist. Was it morning already? Another knock reminded her that she still hadn’t answered the first. “Yes?” She called out.
The door opened and in walked the maid, Melysa. Tiara frowned. She could have sworn that she’d bolted the door. She needed to look at the lock later. There might be something wrong with it.
“Would you like your breakfast in your room this morning, miss?” Melysa asked as she dropped into a small curtsy. “The officers have already left.”
Well, she wouldn’t have to deal with Foehn this morning. But that also meant she wouldn’t see Archrin either. “Yes, I think I’d like that. Thank you.”
As the maid left, Tiara yawned. After breakfast she’d go for a swim. It was going to be a warm day, one of the few left before summer gave way to fall, and she had no desire to be cooped up inside.
* * * * * *
Will read aloud in Eveon, stopping every once in a while when he struggled over a word. He wasn’t as fluent in his reading as he was speaking, but that was understandable. Eveon had a completely different alphabet than Saerdian, or English – as he knew it. Will glanced up at Olinia every so often, noticing that the content of her father’s letter drew her in completely…
My dear child and heir,
The Legends of Balinorre are what the Other Worlds remember of Balinorre. They were passed down from generation to generation by the word of mouth, but sadly never recorded. However, just as no memory is remembered exactly as it occurred, the Legends are not the full truth. Thus, I have written here Ba
linorre’s fall for you, with the intention of helping you understand what took place.
Balinorre was my home. That’s the best way I know how to describe it. I lived there with my parents, King Yrond and Queen Archelda, and my younger brother. As a child, I remember it was always green – a rich, dark green, even in the winter. The air was never too hot, and rarely too cold. I loved the city Balinorre. It was one massive fortress – a thriving, busy place, connected by bridges, parapets, and cobblestone pathways. Its makeup was intricate and often confusing. I cannot count the occasions my brother and I became lost on our many explorations and wanderings. Nor can I imagine the amount of mischief we created for our neighbors. Balinorre was our playground, our sanctuary. As we grew we came to know its every inch and corner.
The people of Balinorre were not only royals and Eves; they were craftsmen, musicians, merchants, soldiers, Craeles, and Saerds. In the days of my youth, the Other Worlds were all connected to one world: Balinorre. The connection allowed us to travel freely from one world to another, without the use of an Enblith, Sinith, or shimmer stone. There were no divisions, like there are now. No separate kingdoms of Saerds, Eves, and Craeles, all depending on what world one was from. We were simply Other Worlders, and my father was our king. Yes, this is the true meaning of High Royalty. You are not merely the heir to the Eves – you are the future sovereign of the Other Worlds. Our name and crest, the Balnorrean Knot, are symbols of our birthright and potential.
It was in this Balinorre that I became a young man of eighteen. It was then that our realm of the Other Worlds began to change. Two sides were formed: my brother’s and mine. The people of Balinorre were soon contending over who should fill the throne of my father. As the elder son, it was my birthright to be heir, but many disagreed. The instigator of all such claims was my brother.
He believed that I was not worthy of the honor to be king. He felt that I was too weak – that I did not slave over my gifts enough, as he did. In truth, he was partially right. Gifts came naturally to me. If I wanted to master a new gift, I simply set my mind to it, and the gift followed. This infuriated my brother. He labored immensely with each new gift. My father said that this was due to me being heir – an heir’s gifts were always strongest out of the king’s children. The heir was to rule. Thus, the heir’s gifts must be strong. This did not sit well with my brother either. He craved the opportunity to be the most gifted Eve in Balinorre.
