Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One

by Akers, Tracy A.

The Priestess’s fair features grew hard, and for an instant her eyes glowed. “Blasphemous words. You will suffer greatly for them.”

  “Perhaps, but not by the will of Agneis.”

  The Priestess laughed. “You have no knowledge of what the Goddess wills. Only I have the power to determine that.”

  “You determine nothing in her regard.”

  “And how would someone like you know this?”

  “The Goddess told me.”

  An unreadable expression crossed the Priestess’s face, and her features seemed to morph into those of another. But her likeness quickly resumed its pale beauty as her golden lips stretched into a cutting smile. “Only one who travels to the After Realm can speak with a goddess. Perhaps I will send you there.”

  “Thank you, but I have already been. That is where Agneis told me the truth about you. I know who you really are.”

  Reiv struggled to his feet. The guards moved to shove him back down, but the Priestess waved them away. “I heard rumors of your transcension,” she said, “but I took them for nothing more than that. I will not make that mistake again.”

  “That is only one of the many mistakes you have made,” Reiv said. “But I will keep that information to myself, I think.”

  “It will be easy enough to learn your thoughts,” she hissed. The Priestess splayed her fingers before Reiv’s face, sending a host of terrors scurrying through his mind as she slithered into his thoughts. Reiv attempted to retreat, but his brain could not seem to get the message to his feet. His limbs, his voice, his will, all were frozen in place. Cold coursed through his veins, freezing his heart, trapping his breath.

  The torches that lined the walls flickered as a rush of cold air swept the room. The Priestess’s crystal eyes dimmed, then darkened like parchment charred by flame. Her mental attack continued as her body began to elongate. Slowly…slowly, she coiled her body around his.

  Reiv closed his eyes as he fought to free his mind from her. Illusion plays on your hopes and fears, he whispered to himself.

  The Priestess tightened her grip; Reiv clenched his fists, then refocused what little strength he had on the advice Agneis had once given him. You must accept and understand your own heroic path…

  “Foul boy!” the Priestess hissed. “I shall strip the violet from your eyes!”

  Reiv’s eyes shot open as the evil form breathed her stench upon his face. His eyes filled with searing pain. He screamed and tried to raise his fists to them, but was unable to move at all.

  The pain diminished as a wave of comfort rolled through him. The oppressive weight that encircled his body retracted with a hiss, momentarily releasing him. The Priestess moved to regain her hold, but a voice not his own escaped Reiv’s lips and said, “Serpent of Evil, you will not harm this boy!”

  Reiv felt strength return to his body, and he stepped around the Priestess in a wide circle. She followed, the two of them facing each other poised for battle. Reiv’s fear mounted; he knew he was not under his own command. As though reading his thoughts, the voice that had left his lips whispered into his mind: Do not be afraid, Reiv. I am here. It was then that he knew; Agneis was with him. He searched deep within himself for whatever was left of his courage.

  The earth trembled and a great rumbling noise filled the room. Lanterns swung wildly; statues teetered on their bases. One by one the lights flickered and extinguished. The room went black as the blackest night.

  Reiv’s feet lifted from the floor, his body twisting in a helix of mystical power. He threw up his arms, convinced he would soon be dashed against the ceiling. His breath quickened and his eyes grew wide. He worked to focus on his surroundings, but he could make out nothing at all. His ascension ceased, and he hovered mid-air, his arms and legs extended. With eyes clinched tight, he awaited the inevitable drop to his doom.

  “Leave this boy, foul demon,” Agneis said through him, “or my wrath will put an end to you forever.”

  “You have no power over me, Agneis,” a deep voice said as it swirled around Reiv. “The Unnamed One of your misguided prophecy will bother me no more.”

  “You know nothing of prophecies,” Agneis said.

  The evil presence tightened its grip around Reiv’s body, then let out a deafening shriek. It whipped with lightning-like speed, sending Reiv careening into a wall. He hit the stone hard and crumpled to the marble surface below. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and shot new agony into his bones.

  “Your cruel treatment of my children will stop with this one!” Agneis screeched.

  Reiv raised himself onto all fours, desperately trying to draw air into his deflated lungs. “Reiv,” Agneis whispered. “Do not allow her illusions to become yours. She will play upon your fears.”

  Reiv staggered to his feet, trying to expunge the image of serpents from his mind. He had found the strength to slay one for Kerrik, but this one would require much more. It demanded the power of the mind, not that of the sword.

  Then it began, the battle between the Demon and the Goddess, Reiv trapped in the middle of it. His eyes could see nothing, but his mind played the events unfolding around him. The room grew small, or perhaps it was he who had grown large. The Demon uncoiled its body to match Reiv’s unnatural stature, then slowly reared its head to strike. Simultaneously they lurched toward each other, enmeshed in a fury of wills.

  Anguish could only describe what Reiv felt as they battled back and forth. At times Agneis would provide him with a moment’s respite, but the serpent would regain its hold on him more cruelly than before. Reiv’s limbs weakened as excruciating pain consumed him. It stripped him of his energy, of his very will to live. His spirit ebbed, and he knew he could bear it no more.

  Only Agneis could save him now.

  BACK TO ToC

  Chapter 23: Forewarned

  Dayn threw himself against Nannaven’s table and held on for support. The room had begun to spin, and a blinding light was pulsating behind his eyes. He clutched his roiling stomach with one hand and held fast to the table’s edge with the other.

  Brina rushed over and grabbed him by the arm. “What is it?” she cried as she struggled to keep him on his feet.

  “Everyone has to get out!” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” Brina asked.

  “Spread the word that everyone has to get out of Pobu!” Dayn’s breath grew labored. He lowered himself onto the nearby bench, then raised his eyes to Brina. “Just do it!”

  Brina looked at him with confusion, then raced out the door, shouting an order to the men who were waiting outside.

  Alicine moved to Dayn’s side and placed a hand on his back. “Is it the same?” she asked.

  “Worse. Did you feel it?” But Dayn knew in his heart she hadn’t.

  The earth continued to waver. Dayn’s nausea increased, but this time he knew it was not from a bit of undigested food or the symptoms of an illness. The earth was unsteady, he was sure of it, and the images were not illusions, but visions from a higher power.

  Nannaven rushed to her herb cabinet and threw it open. “What are you feeling, boy? Tell me,” she said, shoving bottles and jars aside.

  “Nothing your potions can help,” he said. He doubled over, dry heaving as he stared at the blurry ground.

  Nannaven grabbed a small pottery jar from the cabinet, then a mug and a water jug. She hurried to the table, prepared to mix him up a brew.

  Dayn raised his head. “There’s nothing you can do for it. It’ll have to leave in its own time.”

  Nannaven looked at him with anxious eyes. She nodded and set her supplies on the table. “How can I help?”

  “You can leave Pobu with the others.”

  Nannaven headed straight for the hearth and began to claw at a large stone embedded in it.

  Dayn doubled over again, retching into the dirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot his attention to Nannaven. “Didn’t you hear me?” he said as he spat the foul taste from his mouth. “You have
to get out. There isn’t much time.”

  But the Spirit Keeper continued until at last she managed to pry the stone from the hearth. She dropped it to the ground, then reached into the opening and pulled out an old tome.

  Dayn and Alicine watched as she hustled to her bag of medicinals and shoved the book inside.

  “What are you doing with that?” Alicine asked with concern. “You know it’s forbidden. If you’re caught…”

  “I do not think it matters now,” Nannaven said. She grabbed her shawl and headed for the door.

  “You, too. Out of here,” Dayn barked at Alicine.

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “No…you’re—“

  “You heard me. I’m going with you.”

  Dayn knew there would be no debating it, but he grew even sicker at the thought of his sister facing a battle at his side. He nodded, grim faced, and attempted to rise from the bench, but he quickly found himself falling back onto it. He struggled to focus his eyes on something stationary, but there was nothing in the room that wasn’t spinning. He clenched his eyes until the feeling subsided, then squinted them open to scan the room. He released a breath. The room had calmed at last.

  He stood up with shaking legs and wrapped the scabbard that held the Lion around his waist. “It’s time,” he said, then shoved the dirk into his belt and headed for the door.

  He and Alicine hustled out and into the street. They made their way into the crowd of men and horses that stood ready and waiting. Voices could be heard murmuring in uneasy curiosity at the order Brina had shouted but moments before. Dayn and Alicine climbed atop two of the Guard horses that had been confiscated during the raid. They took their places next to Torin, Jensa, and Brina who were also mounted and ready to ride. Dayn was horrified to see so many women amongst the volunteers, and insisted they remain behind. He even made another attempt to dissuade Alicine from coming. But she and the other women would hear nothing of it, and the men did not seem inclined to back Dayn up. They saw no reason why a woman who wanted to fight should stay behind.

  The remainder of the twenty or so horses in the group were ridden by the clan leaders who led the procession through the streets. They were followed by hundreds of others, Jecta and Shell Seekers, both men and women, all armed with makeshift weapons. More and more joined them as they advanced down the street. But others hurriedly made their way in the opposite direction, obeying the sudden and disturbing order to evacuate to the hills.

  The brigade paused in the courtyard that funneled out of the city. Gair approached from the smithy with Crymm in his charge. The guard’s hands were bound at his back and a rope was tied around his neck like a leash to a dog. Dayn glared down at Crymm as Gair took his place on the largest horse. “Lead on, young Dayn!” Gair bellowed.

  The band of Jecta was at least a thousand strong. It had become more than a rescue party; it had become an army. It moved like a shadow through the haze still cloaking the hillsides. Tearia loomed ahead of them, but all that could be seen was a dark shape where a bright city usually stood.

  Dayn raised his hand to stop the approach. The troop at his back halted, silent and waiting.

  Torin nodded at Dayn and kicked his heels into his horse’s side. He took off in a full gallop toward the city, a rolled parchment clutched in his hand. He was not gone long, and when he returned his face held a look of satisfaction.

  “Was it was delivered without incident?” Dayn asked.

  “I’ll cherish the looks on their ugly faces for the rest of my life,” Torin said. “They didn’t have a chance to react before I was gone.”

  “Good,” Dayn said. “Now we wait.”

  ****

  The Room of Transcension became warm and bright again, the flames in the torches glowing without so much as a flicker. Reiv lay sprawled upon his belly. Whyn was crouched beside the throne, while his guards cowered against the far wall. The Priestess, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  Whyn rose and stormed down the steps, shaking with fury. “Where is she!” he screamed. He fell to his knees beside Reiv and grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head from the floor. “I said, where is she!” Whyn threw Reiv’s head against the tile and rose to stand over him. “Guard! Bring me my sword!”

  The guard moved to comply, but just then a messenger ran into the room, a rolled parchment in his hand. “My lord,” the messenger said between gasping breaths, “a message from the Jecta.”

  Whyn took the parchment and unrolled it. His face spasmed as he read the words. He glared at Reiv. “Guard, bring him. We have business at the gate.”

  BACK TO ToC

  Chapter 24: A Vision Fulfilled

  Reiv was marched up the steps to the parapet and shoved against the wall, his breath nearly knocked out of him at the impact of rib against stone.

  “Now you will see what happens to enemies of Tearia,” Whyn said.

  Reiv gazed out past the wall and worked to focus his eyes through the haze. A slight breeze stirred the murky landscape, but little could be seen other than a large, dark shadow draped across the hillside. The wind picked up, dissipating the haze here and there. The sun broke through in quick ebbing streams upon the countryside.

  Reiv gasped. “Gods, Whyn, what do you intend to do?”

  “I intend to see that Tearia is safe.”

  “Safe? Safe from what? Safe from those who ask only to live as the gods intended them?” Reiv clenched the cold stone of the wall and leaned out, staring at the ragtag Jecta army massed on the hillside.

  Whyn yanked him back by the arm and shoved him to the ground. “What right do you have to dictate what the gods intend?”

  Reiv grabbed his wound, now reopened and bleeding. “You would murder innocent people in the name of what, Whyn? In the name of Tearia? Is that the legacy you wish for yourself? For your name to be forever synonymous with the slaughter of innocents?”

  “My name will long be remembered as the King who saved Tearia from the rabble that would seek to bring her down. Those innocents, as you call them, will be remembered only as traitors, nothing more. If blood is required, then that, dear brother, is the price.”

  Reiv pulled himself up and searched Whyn’s face. “So you will be the Red King after all,” he said.

  Whyn seemed startled by the remark, but then he collected his pride with a toss of his head. “Something you would have never been suited for.”

  “I thank the gods for that.”

  Whyn stepped to the wall and gazed toward the hills. “It seems your people wish to negotiate for your return. I will be happy to take you to them. There is no reason why you should not all suffer the same fate.”

  Whyn barked an order and Reiv was led down the steps to a regiment of mounted guards gathered at the gate. Mahon could be seen seated upon a great chestnut horse. He was dressed in full armament and his face was set in a careful display of Guard fortitude. As Reiv walked past him, he could not help but notice a hint of distress in his uncle’s eyes. He attempted to decipher any message of hope that might be there, but Mahon reined his horse and turned away.

  A guard at Reiv’s back pushed him forward.

  “Bring his mount,” Whyn ordered.

  The guard complied and returned, yanking the reins of a dark brown horse with a blue-black mane. The horse reared, its eyes wild with fright, and stomped around in a circle while the guard shouted and fought to control it. The loud snap of a whip brought the horse to a halt. The animal’s flank twitched where a cruel new mark was etched.

  “Gitta,” Reiv whispered, recognizing the horse he had once called his own. He stepped toward her, but an arm was thrust in his path. He felt his wrists as they were bound in front of him, but all he could do was stare into the eyes of the frightened horse.

  “She will let no one ride her,” Whyn said. “You had best hold on tight.” Then he laughed and mounted a stallion with eyes as cold and black as its sleek, muscular body.

  Reiv was lifted up by a giant of a guard
and thrown onto Gitta’s back. He pressed his thighs against her and leaned in, whispering soft words into her ear. She calmed immediately, much to the chagrin of Whyn, who snapped an order for the gates to be parted.

  Reiv glanced behind him and felt his heart sink. As far as he could see, the Guard was assembled for battle, the metal of their polished armor glimmering even in the dull morning light. The pace of his horse quickened. He turned his attention forward as he was led up front to join Whyn and Mahon. Thirty or so guards took their places as escorts, while the rest stayed behind the walls and waited with anticipation.

  “Why are you going?” Reiv asked Whyn, anxiety creeping into his voice. “You are King. Should you not stay behind?”

  “I have nothing to fear. Besides, it might be fun.”

  “What about the risk of damage to you? Tearia would not tolerate a damaged king, just as it would not tolerate a damaged prince.”

  Whyn scoffed. “The Jecta would not dare harm me. But even if they entertained such a notion, the Guard will see to it they do not. I appreciate your concern for my safety, but do not worry about me.” Then he grinned and urged his horse forward with a kick of his heels.

  The eerie fog began to thin, leaving the landscape bathed in milky light. Twenty Jecta on horseback could be seen advancing slowly toward them. When they were within a reasonable distance, their fair-haired leader raised a hand to stop his line. Both Jecta and Tearians stood face to face, eyeing each other with disdain.

  Reiv’s belly churned as Dayn advanced his horse a few paces. What was his cousin thinking, facing Whyn and the Guard like this? Then Reiv realized it was he who had declared Dayn the warrior that the Jecta needed. He felt a sudden wave of regret. Even through the distance he could see that Dayn had taken great pains to present himself as that warrior. A broad leather band held Dayn’s hair back, and his face was painted with black designs that lined his forehead and circled his eyes. A glimmer at his ear indicated he wore an earring, something he swore he would never do. The dirk was shoved into his belt, clearly in view, and a barely visible sheath hung at his waist. Reiv held his breath as he watched his cousin stare Whyn down. Dayn’s painted face may have exuded bravery, but Reiv knew the expression was as painted on as the designs that outlined it.