by M. L. Greye
Will raised an eyebrow. “How did they find out?”
“Find out what?” Legann asked.
“It was through Tiara,” Olinia answered, ignoring Legann for the moment.
“Tiara?”
She nodded. “Let’s just say she’s more like me than in just her looks.”
“How? Is she another one of your lost siblings?” Will grunted.
Legann blinked. “You have lost siblings?”
She flinched. “Not anymore.”
“I was told Zedgry is your only sibling.” Legann paused, frowning. “Do you have more?”
Olinia turned to Will for help. He shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
She hadn’t quite thought through what to tell her newfound brother. How did one go about destroying the cherished childhood of an almost stranger politely? Olinia bit at her lower lip. Would he even believe her?
“It’s me, isn’t it?”
Olinia stared. He’d guessed it for himself? She peered closely for any hints of anger or disbelief on his face, but all she found was a calm, almost serene look in his dark eyes. She nodded once. “Your name is Legann Reien, Lantz of Caprith. You’re High Royalty.”
He let out a short laugh. “I always suspected I was different. I mean, Saerds can’t talk to animals.”
“You knew you were adopted?” Will asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “But I always had nightmares.”
Olinia frowned. “About your mother?”
He glanced at her, seeming surprised. “Her and two slaves.”
“Slaves?” Olinia and Will blurted simultaneously.
“One, training as a warrior, and the other working her youth away in a kitchen.”
“You saw us?” Olinia was gaping. “You saw me and Zedge?”
He chuckled, somewhat bitterly. “Only when you both were crying. I never understood why, but I’d always wake up crying too, sad because you both were sad.”
“So, you knew my face the day you met me?”
“Not really,” he replied. “I only saw children in my dreams. When I met you, I just thought you looked like Tiara.”
Olinia smiled out the side of her mouth. “You realize this makes you an heir to the Other Worlds.”
“And a Wend,” Legann added.
She laughed, having the sudden urge to hug him. She had another brother! Growing up, she’d only hoped to one day meet her twin. On impulse, Olinia began towards Legann, grinning. She took a step, her soft leather slipper hitting the balcony’s stone. And then, the stone was gone.
Three voices screamed into her ears at the same time, muffled by an enormous crack. The edge of the balcony Olinia had been standing on gave under her weight, plummeting into the garden below. Olinia felt herself fall before her body began the actual motion. Will and Legann must have anticipated it, because they too shrieked just as she dropped. But all three shouted a different name.
Olinia yelled for Will, while Legann screamed for her, and Will called for Archrin. All three were mid-syllable as Olinia’s head disappeared out of sight, and didn’t finish until Olinia caught hold of the jagged, broken edge. Will and Legann dove for her, while Olinia felt the weight of her body as her arms ceased her descent, and only then did she realize what had just occurred.
Her shoes slid off her dangling feet, landing somewhere in the rubble below her. Will and Legann appeared at the edge, both on their stomachs, offering their hands for her.
“Grab my hand!” Will shouted.
Olinia attempted to release her left hand, but couldn’t. Her other arm wasn’t strong enough to hold her weight alone. “I can’t!” She gasped.
“I can’t reach her,” Legann groaned. His arms were too short. The place Olinia’s fingers had managed to take hold of was too far from the top for him.
“Then hold onto my legs,” Will ordered. “I’ll go down further.”
Just as Legann disappeared, Archrin’s voice called up from below her, “Let her fall, Will. I’ll catch her.”
“Let me fall?” Olinia blurted. “What happened to pulling me up?”
From above her, Will cried out in pain as his tunic caught on some of the rough stone, tearing both the fabric and his flesh. Olinia stared up at him as a red stain formed on his chest. She gritted her teeth, suddenly aware of her own red stain on the rock she was clinging to. Her fall had sliced open her fingers and palms.
“You can’t make it down, Will,” Archrin yelled. “Just get her to let go.”
“No!” Olinia screamed back at him “I’ll just climb back up by myself.” But even as she said the words she knew they weren’t true. She was barely able to hang there, five or so feet from the actual balcony, let alone climb her way up.
“Don’t be an idiot, Nia!” Legann shouted over the edge, still hidden from Olinia’s view. “Let Archrin catch you.”
Nia? Olinia blinked, startled momentarily by his use of Zedgry’s nickname for her. She smiled, despite her current danger. “Alright,” she grimaced, “I’ll let go. Ready, Archrin?”
“Ready, princess.”
Olinia took a deep breath and groaned. If he drops me, I’m going to kill him. She promised, ignoring the fact that if he didn’t catch her she would most likely die. And then she released her grip, flying backward and downward. She was only in the air a moment – not even enough time to think. But she didn’t land in Archrin’s arms. The ground stopped her.
A searing, red-hot pain shot through her head as she landed face up. Olinia cried out in shock, unable to move. The corners of her mind became fuzzy. Just before the world became black, Olinia felt raindrops hit her face.
* * * * * *
Fuladrik dismounted and handed his reins to the waiting manservant. It was near sunset. He had ridden hard for the better part of the day. As he moved through the quiet courtyard outside the front of the manor, Fuladrik struggled to keep his walk smooth. He glanced up at the approaching steward and forced a smile. “Good evening, Eodred.”
The steward bowed. “How long has it been, Fuladrik?”
“Too long,” Fuladrik mused. He frowned up at the manor. “Where is the king?”
“Follow me.”
Eodred led the Healer through the manor’s halls to a winding staircase on the third floor. “Would you like me to announce you?” He asked, halting at the base of the stairs.
“No need.” Fuladrik clapped the elderly Eve on the shoulder. “He is most likely expecting me.”
As Eodred retreated, Fuladrik began his ascent. The stairs ended at a small landing and narrow oak door. Fuladrik knocked twice before entering, as was customary. To his surprise, the circular room was empty except for a high-backed, stuffed chair and the braided rug it sat on. The chair was facing a crackling fire, its back to the door.
Fuladrik frowned. “My lord?”
A soft sigh filled the room, and King Yrond stood. He stepped around the chair to face Fuladrik, resting a hand on the top of it. He smiled sadly. “I have waited for you everyday since their fifteenth birthday.”
“My lord,” Fuladrik bowed deeply. “The Council has not sent me. I come on my own accord.” He straightened. “There is much to tell you.”
* * * * * *
Tiara was dripping. It had started to rain again. As she walked, she used her hands to warm herself, rubbing her arms angrily. She’d been walking the same muddy road for a day now, maybe more. The dark storm clouds overhead blocked any sun, eliminating the one way Tiara knew how to determine time. Tiara felt like screaming and stomping her feet, but it wouldn’t be worth the effort. There was no one for miles to show her ranting. She had yet to encounter a resident of whichever world she was stuck in.
A bolt of lightning shot across the sky high above her, branching out through the clouds. Tiara glared up at it. She was furious with what had happened to her. Time had forced her into this world without any sort of protection, including an appropriate set of clothing for the weather. Tiara’s current Eveon garb was proving t
o be useless and completely impractical. The capped sleeves and short skirt were good for nothing but modesty. Why even wear a gown if it’s Eveon? Tiara muttered to herself, wiping the water from her eyes.
She grunted, acknowledging that her dress was just about as useful as Olinia’s stone. Since the moment she’d entered this world, she’d tried to get the stone to take her out of it. The problem though was every time she’d lift her hand to do so, unseen fingers would grip around her heart with a pressure that threatened to stop its beating. Tiara was beginning to think Time would surely be the death of her.
A low growling in her stomach matched the thunder above. She was starving, unable to remember the last time she’d eaten. For all she knew, it had been days. Tiara’s eyes narrowed just as the rain suddenly increased, something Tiara had thought impossible. It quickly turned into little pelts of ice. Fantastic! Tiara felt like throwing rocks at the sky. She was to the point of wondering if her imprisonment in this stormy, deserted world was some sort of punishment. Tiara laughed bitterly to herself as she ran for cover from the hail, beneath one of the trees off the side of the mud-caked road. She huddled in the wet undergrowth, against the tree’s trunk, as she glared out into the storm. I hate this.
Rain streamed down Tiara’s face. Cold seeped through every part of her. She was going to die. After all the terrifying adventures she’d somehow managed to survive, she was going to die from exposure to rain and night air. Oh, what a wonderful way to die – miserable and alone. Tiara glanced down at Olinia’s stone, dangling from her neck. She felt like cursing Time and all the Fraers who had ever lived. Time must be wishing her dead.
Treasenna lee noimtress. The words had been rolling through her mind for most of the night. It was the plea of an Equilan to a Fraer. Tiara had been taught the words as a child, but told to use them only as a last resort. Equilan were expected to solve their own problems. The sacred words were to be used only when an Equilan was in immediate danger. Tiara was wondering what counted as an immediate danger.
The sound of horses brought Tiara’s head up with a snap, penetrating her gloom. They were approaching her from the direction she’d just come. Tiara felt her heart quicken. If there were riders on top of the horses, which she didn’t doubt, then they would be the first living things she’d encountered in this drenched world. Maybe she wasn’t going to die after all! Maybe the riders would take pity on her and give her at least a worn jacket or blanket.
Tiara pushed herself to her feet, surprised by the amount of effort it took. She began for the road, her heart practically leaping for joy. There were riders on top of the horses. Tiara could make out their dark cloaks and flaming torches. And was that a carriage behind the riders? Or was the rain blinding her? Oh, how she wished to be within the cozy, dry air of the carriage’s cabin! Tiara made it to the side of the road and waved her arms above her head, in hopes of catching the riders’ attention. The movement caused her to feel dizzy, but she refused to cease. Her survival depended on them not passing her by.
Despite her exertion, the little group wasn’t slowing, and they were getting closer. On impulse, Tiara ran out into the muddy road, shouting for their aid. Something in the back of her mind was screaming out the insanity of her plan, but she ignored it as she planted herself in the middle of the road.
The riders saw her too late. They tried to pull their horses to a quick stop, but the lead horse came too close to Tiara. She leapt backwards, in an attempt to get out of its way. Her foot caught in the mud and she fell onto her side, her head landing on something hard. Tiara groaned as a deep voice above her let out a string of curses. She felt a strong hand roll her onto her back.
A bearded face peered down at her. It said something, but the words wouldn’t register. Tiara’s eyes drifted away from the face to the emblem on its tunic beneath a cloak. The symbol looked familiar. Tiara struggled to focus her mind to remember where she’d seen it before. The man spoke again. This time Tiara recognized the language. Arthelian. Tiara groaned again as her vision blurred and then went dark.
* * * * * *
Zedgry yawned as Illein clung to him. “I hate ghosts,” she murmured into his chest.
“So I’ve heard,” he chuckled.
During the past couple days, he and Illein had become good friends. Being stuck alone together in Delvich apparently had that effect on them. Both had been so starved of any type of communication with a living person that they latched onto each other as if it was their only means of survival. At the moment, Zedgry was sure Illein needed him more than he was in need of a companion. She was grasping onto him for dear life while they sat at the base of a moss-covered tree. Another ghost had come to visit, but this one was a mere child who wanted nothing more than to play. The little boy would run around, covering his eyes and laughing, until he would trip and fall. He would then cry until he realized no one was watching, and then he would start his running game all over.
Illein was not amused, especially not when the boy grew closer than she deemed necessary. She shivered against Zedgry. “I think Dagon has forgotten about me.”
“Why do you say that?” Zedgry blinked.
“He’s kept me here for weeks now,” she replied. “Shouldn’t he have pulled me out by now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he’s forgotten about you too?”
“Doubtful.” He grunted. “He’s most likely just waiting for me to die. I’m guessing he just wants me here as bait to lure my sister to him.”
Illein glanced up at him. She winced as the child ghost began to cry again. “Are you sure he doesn’t have anything planned for you?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m still stuck here either way.”
“Delvich cannot be your only option.”
He let out a short laugh. “What other options do I have?”
“Well,” she grinned, “you could always find a way out of Delvich.”
“Oh please.” Zedgry rolled his eyes. “You sound like the ghosts.”
“Zedge, it is possible.”
“Sure it is.”
Illein locked eyes with him. “I’ve known of twelve people who have escaped.”
“Twelve?” Zedgry raised his eyebrows. “Twelve confirmed cases of people escaping?”
She nodded. “And they just walked out.”
Zedgry stared at her. “How?”
“On their feet, I’m guessing.”
“That’s not what I-”
“Zedge,” she cut him off, “even Delvich can be defeated – you simply need to know its secrets.”
“And you do?”
She grinned. “Well, we can find out.”
* * * * * *
“I do not understand why the Council has chosen to keep me ignorant.” Yrond set his cup down on the low table in front of him. He and Fuladrik were in his personal study. “I gave them specific instructions to inform me of any new developments.”
Fuladrik rubbed his eyes with one hand. “My lord, there is more.”
“More?”
“During the battle in Relivaynt, young Zedgry was taken captive.” Fuladrik paused. “For all we know, he is held prisoner in Delvich.”
Yrond frowned. “Should he be forced to face his uncle…”
“He may not have the strength to withstand him,” Fuladrik finished, nodding.
The king leaned back in his chair, eyeing the shelves of books behind Fuladrik. “What of Legann? Have my grandchildren all been united?”
“They are together, but I have not told them their relation,” Fuladrik replied. “Of course, Zedgry knows nothing. As for Olinia, however, I sense she suspects Legann’s true parentage.”
“But does he?”
“I doubt it, my lord.”
Yrond let his breath out slowly. “What are you suggesting I do?”
Fuladrik clasped his hands, glancing down at the dark table between him and his king. Fuladrik took a deep breath. “I believe the time ha
s come for you to emerge from your hiding.”
“Return to Evedon?”
“Yes, my lord.” Fuladrik nodded. “Your grandchildren are in need of your support. In order for them to have the confidence to reclaim their throne, they must know they are not alone in this war of High Royalty.”
The corners of Yrond’s mouth pulled downward, as his blue eyes grew distant. Fuladrik sensed his king’s deep sadness. Yrond knew the danger of returning, but he also understood the condition of his struggling heirs. After a few more moments, Yrond sighed. “You are right, old friend. It is time to return.” He smiled slightly. “We must inform my wife.”
* * * * * *
Another storm. Treveri grunted to himself as he trudged through the thick mud that had once been a road. He’d be happy for the cool, crisp days of the fall. During the autumn, the rain would only come in sporadic bursts, not like the persistent gloom of summer. Treveri knew other places of his world had dry, clear summers. It was just where he lived that was so wet. The Fenmark was lowland, known for its rich, green landscape, and for being only four hours ride from the capital and seashore.
“You look as if you were custom made for this day.” His mother’s voice brought his head up. He blinked as she joined his side, coming from an intersecting road. She smiled brightly. “Why so dreary?”
Treveri frowned. “Where were you?”
“I went to see Mora Landris,” she answered. “Her infant twins are sick again.”
“Oh.” Treveri nodded. He wasn’t really in the mood for chatter. His mind was still enthralled in the other night with the mysterious Caiden. True to her word, she had disappeared without so much as a whisper of her ever passing through the Fenmark. He had listened for her name on every street corner. Nothing.
“You are quiet this evening,” his mother, Evrenn, mused.
He shrugged, avoiding the topic. “Sorry, uneventful day.”
“Oh?” She frowned and Treveri knew she guessed there was something he wasn’t telling her.
