The Other Worlds (The Other Worlds Series Book 1)

by M. L. Greye

  “What’s wrong?” Tiara glanced at Archrin, who kindly stepped back for her to glimpse the bottom stair. Tiara’s stomach lurched again. She covered her mouth with her free hand, forcing back the urge to scream.

  A severed head was on the floor just below the bottom step. Its, no, his light blue eyes were staring up at her. Blood was splattered over the floor and stairs – stairs she would have to climb barefoot. His shaggy blond hair lay matted to his forehead, sweat mixed with blood and some other fluid Tiara wasn’t able to identify. I’m going to be sick.

  Archrin pulled her against him before she was able to collapse. “Feeling lightheaded?”

  She was about to retort, when she noticed his back and shoulder for the first time. He had grabbed her with his right arm. “You’re not scarred.”

  “The Healer did well,” he replied, a little winded.

  Tiara noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead and remembered his current weakness. “You need to rest.”

  “Later.” He shook his head. “I want to learn why you’ve taken us here.”

  Tiara swallowed, forcing herself not to gag. “Then let’s get out of this hallway.”

  Archrin chuckled and began up the stairs, Tiara in tow. She tried to ignore the warm, sticky liquid that was seeping through her toes, but her attempts were in vain. Her stomach churned. She groaned inwardly. That was all she needed – vomit as well as blood to wade through.

  “Nenaven tretara vrentin!” Someone barked.

  Tiara’s head snapped up. The use of Eveon surprised her. She had been taught the language as a child from her mother, but due to her lack of use, her Eveon had grown rusty. Eveon wasn’t really needed in a Saerdian world. Tiara turned to Archrin and knew by his perplexed face that he had understood the man. “What did he say?”

  “Search through the hall.” Archrin looked down at her before beginning up the stairs again. At the top, they found the body that had previously belonged to the head below them. Tiara pulled a face.

  “Kren eevette!”

  She understood that command. Find them! She leaned in closer to Archrin. “Now I want to know where I’ve taken us.”

  He smiled and headed around the corner out of the spiral stairwell. They were greeted by a large hall, no, ballroom. Tiara’s eyes drifted over the intricately detailed pillars and tapestries hanging from the high vaulted ceiling. Then her eyes landed on the floor. She shuddered.

  Bodies, both male and female, were strewn everywhere. There were overturned tables, shattered chairs, and shards of a collapsed pillar. Blood from one man near her trickled into a puddle on the floor, while blood from another spilled into the floor’s cracks. Some wore black, their skin gray pale. Most were men and women in uniforms of dark gray and blue. They were servants of the castle.

  “Come on.” Archrin pulled her through a pair of tall doors to their right.

  The doors opened to a banquet hall. Tiara estimated the room could have seated at least two hundred. The dead were scattered throughout here as well. Long tables had been toppled onto their sides. Chairs and benches laid smashed in pieces. The blood in this hall ran so thick it was practically a carpet for the stone. Archrin pulled her right over it. Next time bring shoes, Tiara muttered to herself.

  Archrin headed toward a small door at the back of the hall. He pushed it open, holding it long enough for Tiara to walk through. It was a kitchen – a large one built only for preparing banquets, feasts, and such. A set of stairs leading upward began across from them in the opposing wall. Fortunately, the kitchen hadn’t been touched by the battle yet. It was devoid of the bloodied dead.

  Tiara’s eyes darted over the walls. There were windows, but thick drapes blocked her vision to the outside world. The only light in the kitchen came from the few rays of sun that managed to sneak past the drapes.

  A muffled cry brought Tiara’s head around with a start. She and Archrin were just about to start up the stairs. A woman with two small children in her arms was on her way down. She bent over and set the children on their feet.

  “Shh, nanette neevay noreem tonew,” the woman whispered, kneeling beside the children.

  Tiara blinked. These were the first living people she’d seen yet. Tiara studied the woman. She was in her early to mid-twenties. Her long black hair fell in waves down the back of her dark green gown. The dress had one elbow-length sleeve missing at the shoulder revealing an ugly, deep red gash on her upper arm.

  “Tamar, tomaw cree eemna?” The little boy asked. He was no more than a toddler. Tiara was momentarily surprised by his ability to talk at such a young age, but then remembered that these were Eveon children. They learned speech at a very young age. The little boy wanted to know where his mamma was. Eemna was the shortened version of moreemna, the Eveon word for mother.

  “Hush, young Lantz, we must get you to safety,” Tamar breathed in Eveon, placing a finger over his small lips.

  “Eemna,” the little girl whimpered.

  Tiara suddenly realized the children must be twins, most likely the heirs to the castle. Tiara inspected them more closely. The girl wore a white, short wool dress that only went to her knees and was sleeveless. Her shoulder length hair was a light brown and curled into little ringlets at the ends. The boy’s short choppy hair, the same color as his twin’s, fell across the top of his forehead. He wore a sleeveless white tunic that went to his knees and was tied at his waist by a strip of leather. Both of them were barefoot. Tiara furrowed her eyebrows. They were dressed as slave children of a Kendren world.

  “We must be quiet, my princess,” Tamar soothed. “Your mamma is alright. Come.” Tamar lifted the twins into her arms again and continued down the stairs into the kitchen.

  Archrin glanced down at Tiara for a moment, before continuing up. The stairs ended at a skinny servants’ hallway. A few doors lined the walls. Then, at the far end of the hallway – where it dead-ended – a young woman sat on the floor, cradling a bundle of cloth in her arms. Tiara stepped closer to the woman, leaving Archrin’s side. There was something captivating about her.

  She looked to be a little over twenty. Her long blonde hair hung limp and damp, sticking to the edges of her face. As Tiara neared her, she noticed the bundle was an infant. The woman was the obvious mother, but she looked so forlorn that Tiara wondered if the child was alive. The woman’s pale blue eyes were distant and lifeless.

  The baby cried, surprising Tiara. It was alive after all. The woman gazed down and put two fingers to her lips, whispering in Eveon, “Shh, my Legann, they will find you.”

  At the mention of Legann, Tiara’s breath caught. She sank to her knees in front of the young mother. Was this why Tiara had been brought to this past? But the baby couldn’t possibly be the Legann she knew. Tiara stared at the little bundle, confused. Why would Time bring her here, to someone else’s past?

  “Remember me, my love.” A tear slid down the woman’s face. “You must remember me.” She brushed a finger against her baby’s tiny cheek.

  “My lady!” A maid appeared from a door to Tiara’s right. “I cannot find your husband.”

  “There isn’t enough time to tell the king of his new son,” the young mother breathed, leaning her head back against the wall behind her. “You must take young Legann away, Tarryn. Find a good family to raise him as their own. He must live to help his elder brother and sister.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Tarryn knelt in front of her queen. “I will see that the Lantz is taken to safety.”

  “My lady!” Another maid dashed into the hallway. “They will find you! You must leave now!”

  The queen never answered; she had already taken her last breath. The maid let out a sob and crumbled into a pile on the floor. Tarryn bowed her head. “May her name never be forgotten among the worlds.”

  “Tiara.” Archrin laid a hand on her shoulder. She blinked up at him in surprise. She’d forgotten he was there. As he watched her, her heart began to speed. Her stomach clenched, as if attempting to tie itself into a kno
t. She gasped and used her hands to support herself up on the floor. The world spun.

  * * * * * *

  Sazx entered Dagon’s study and bowed at the waist. “You sent for me, milord?”

  Dagon leaned back in his stuffed chair, regarding Sazx silently from behind his desk. He peered at his Captain as if for the first time and through a lens he had never used before. Sazx was a young man, not quite twenty-seven. According to the women of his world, Sazx was counted as handsome, despite his ashen skin. Now, as Dagon ran his eyes over Sazx’s features, he could clearly see why women thought as they did. Yet, Sazx refused to take a wife, ignoring even the most beautiful of women. Dagon knew that Sazx was of a serious nature, but no one was all work and no play. Dagon rubbed his chin with one hand. “The Velvitors will be arriving within the next two days. We attack Relivaynt in five.”

  Sazx nodded. “Yes, milord.”

  “Captain, I do not think you will be needed for this battle.”

  That surprised him. “What would you have me do then, milord?”

  “Return to Caprith,” Dagon replied, still contemplating Illein’s last suggestion before she’d entered Delvich.

  “Will my Second be leading the Nagreth?”

  “Yes.” Dagon nodded once.

  “Very well, milord,” Sazx said, his tone holding the same collected, cool inflections as always. “I will inform Lorban and take my leave.”

  Dagon tilted his head to one side. “Sazx, do you fancy a particular woman?”

  The captain blinked. “No.”

  “Have you ever wished to?”

  “Perhaps, if I found a woman with enough beauty and spirit to be thought satisfying I would consider her.”

  So, that was it. Sazx was proud. Dagon smiled. He liked that feature in his young captain. It may yet prove useful. “What would you do if I gave you the best the Other Worlds had to offer?”

  Sazx raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask, milord?”

  Ah, Sazx was no idiot. He knew Dagon had something planned for him. Once again, Dagon regarded his captain with admiration. Yes, Dagon wished Sazx to take on a different errand of sorts. “The final Silver Heart has entered Caprith.” Dagon began. “My Vrylaen Stone has shown me her face. I wish you to capture her.”

  “You wish me to court a Saerd?”

  “Do not jump to conclusions,” Dagon told him. “I merely want you to use the Heart as bait.”

  Sazx blinked again. “Bait for whom?”

  “The princess Olinia will be searching for the last Heart.”

  “So, it is your niece you would have me take.” Sazx grimaced.

  “No, it is my niece I would have you consider obtaining.”

  * * * * * *

  “Why does Legann seem so familiar to me?”

  “What do you mean?” Will lowered his bow and turned back to Olinia. They were in the Courts; Olinia watching him shoot aimlessly at the targets ahead.

  “His face. It’s as if I’ve seen it before.” She paused. “But not necessarily on him.”

  “Do you think he looks like someone you knew?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Olinia groaned. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Try.”

  “It’s as if I should know him, but I don’t know him because something happened that shouldn’t have.” She grimaced. “And my hand keeps itching.”

  “Your hand?”

  Olinia stood, nodding. “Whenever I need to Globe it itches.”

  “In Andin it burned. I thought it’s supposed to burn.”

  “I think being within Time’s realm amplified my reaction.”

  “So you’re being called by Time to Globe and you haven’t answered it?” Will stared at her.

  She flinched. “You make it sound bad when you put it that way.”

  “That’s because it is bad,” he retorted. “You’re ignoring the very gifts you worked so hard to get.”

  “Well, maybe it’s because I don’t care to see what I already know.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Legann Jeor isn’t Legann Jeor.” She let out a short laugh. “And he most definitely is not a Saerd.”

  “Then who is he?” Will asked, surprised.

  A strand of hair had fallen across her forehead. Olinia pushed it back behind her ear and smiled slightly. “He’s my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Will blurted.

  “He’s the youngest Reien.”

  “How?” Will shook his head, still unconvinced. “How do you know that?”

  Olinia grunted as she began playing with the Silver heart around her neck. “I discovered it the same way I learn anything about someone else. I read his mind.”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “So he knows?”

  “Not really.” She bit her lower lip.

  “Then how do you-“

  “He dreams the same dream at least once a week,” Olinia said, cutting him off. “It’s about a woman, begging him not to forget her. She’s his mother.”

  Will stood, slowly, and crossed the short distance to her. “And you think she’s your mother too?”

  Olinia shook her head. “I don’t think, Will. I know she is.”

  “How?”

  “Must I show you?” Olinia rolled her eyes, groaning. “You know Globing exhausts me.”

  “Please, princess?”

  She sighed, “I was afraid you’d ask me.”

  Before Will could reply, Olinia grabbed hold of him with her left hand and waved her right in an arch over their heads. The silvery line she created slowly grew wider, giving way to a new surrounding. Will slipped an arm around Olinia’s middle, but she didn’t seem to even notice his presence – she was focused on the emerging scene.

  Within seconds the picture was finished. Will glanced around slowly, taking in the details. They were in a large room with high-vaulted ceilings. The room was painted in white, a stark contrast to the deep blue marble flooring and pillars lining the room. In the center of the room was a white table, shaped like a horseshoe. Its edges were carved with angular designs, painted the same blue of the marble.

  Around the table sat Eves in high-backed white chairs that matched the table. They wore white tunics and gowns, each trimmed with the same blue as the room. At the center of the table a man and woman sat in chairs more ornate than the others. The man had long silver-streaked black hair, which was tied behind his head by a strap of braided leather. The woman’s dark brown hair fell down her back in waves. Her ageless eyes were distant and sorrowful. Both she and the man wore silver circlets around their heads. Will lowered his eyebrows as he studied their faces. Both gave the impression of having lived long eventful lives, yet neither showed any sign of wrinkles.

  “My mother delivered the twins safely to Devrin,” a familiar voice said in Eveon.

  Olinia stiffened beside him. He glanced down at her in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s Sadree.”

  Will turned to the front of the table at its opening. There, three figures stood—two women and a man. Sadree and Denon stood shoulder to shoulder. Will blinked as he recognized their faces. The other woman Will didn’t know, but by her deep blue eyes and dark, rich hair Will knew she too was Eveon.

  “And young Legann Reien is now Legann Jeor,” the other woman said, also in Eveon. “I have planted him with a loyal family in Kepleth.”

  “Believe me now?” Olinia grunted, looking up at Will.

  He let out a short laugh. “And you really figured this out from eavesdropping on his brain?”

  “It’s not really eavesdropping.”

  “Oh no?” Will raised an eyebrow.

  “It was a safety precaution,” she returned. “He was traveling with a former Kendren. I had to make sure he was trustworthy.”

  “And it doesn’t seem weird that he turned out to be your little brother?”

  Olinia laughed. “My parents were murdered, I grew up a slave, I can move things with my mind, and I’m associating with someone
from another realm, yet you’re asking me if finding out I have another brother is weird?” She cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you think this is just consistent with the rest of my life?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  The man at the center of the table stood. “On behalf of my children and myself, I thank you for what you have done.” He nodded his head toward Sadree. “I regret the death of your mother, Lady Sadree.”

  “Thank you, my king,” she whispered.

  “That’s my grandfather.” Olinia squeezed Will’s arm.

  Will blinked. “Yrond?”

  She nodded as the king went on, “May her name never be forgotten among the worlds.”

  Sadree forced a smile. “For High Royalty I would have done no less, milord.”

  Yrond watched her for a moment before nodding once. “For your loyalty, I would ask something of you.”

  Sadree and Denon exchanged glances. “Anything, milord,” Denon said.

  “Once my grandchildren reach the age of fifteen, they must be brought out of hiding and tutored in our ways and their history. Olinia and Zedgry will be first, but they are not to be told of their younger brother. This will be for his protection, as well was their own.” He paused. “I ask you to free the twins, as well as to become their guardians.”

  “We accept,” Sadree replied.

  “We thank you for the opportunity,” Denon agreed.

  “How will we find them if they are separate?” Sadree asked.

  “I have requested the Fraers to watch over them,” Yrond answered. “The twins will be united before you find them.”

  “When you find them,” The woman beside Yrond stood. Will guessed she was Archelda. “Take them to Sivean. It is where I once lived. Sivean will keep your activities secret.”

  “What of young Legann, milord?” The third woman asked. Will had forgotten about her.

  The king smiled. “Do not worry, Lady Tarryn. The Fraers will be sure to unite my heirs.” He bowed to his visitors and straightened. “I thank you again for what you have done. Return to your homes, and never speak a word of this.”