Heritage- Legends of Shadear

by Elina Vale

  At first, Shri saw nothing, only black. Then, she felt a surge inside her head, and she was inside the creature’s mind. She saw the deep blue darkness of the ocean. Creatures she never knew existed flashed before her eyes. Big and slow fishlike animals. Smaller, scuttling snakes and crabs. She felt the remarkable speed as the mermaid swam forward, flying through the waters just as birds soared the skies. Shri was seeing the mermaid’s memories, the beautiful and the horrific. She saw fishermen being pulled under the surface as a herd of mermaids feasted on their bones. She saw herself speeding through the water amidst schools of fish, turtles, and other mermaids. She could feel the speed, the freedom, the delight of swimming. She saw the glimmering light when she reached the surface. They were so vivid a race, so joyful and free. The mermaids were certainly not human, but they weren’t exactly animals either. They were something in between.

  Then, the visions changed.

  Flashes of blue light broke the herd, striking the mermaids around her. There were silent screams of horror, almond-shaped eyes frozen in terror. Bodies floated towards the bright surface, like they were flying to reach the sunlight.

  Dark figures emerged.

  They were human. Senatai. Shri recognized their robes flowing behind them in the salty currents. They held magical fire in their hands, immune to the power of the water, and used it to kill the mermaids. The next image was filled with sadness and shame, as the senatai rose towards the surface carrying a small chest between them.

  The images dissolved, and Shri woke from the dream.

  She felt tears on her cheek. The pain the creatures had faced affected her deeply. She was sure that the senatai she saw had carried some dark secret out of the sea. Someone, perhaps Aldemar Krun himself, had ordered the slaughter of dozens of mermaids in order to procure that secret. Unfortunately, Shri was uncertain how old the memories were. For all she knew, the mermaid herself could be hundreds of years old.

  “I’m so sorry for what they did,” she said. “Why are you showing me this?”

  The creature reached for Shri’s face and caught one of her tears in her palm. She touched the tear with her wet lips, then took Shri’s hand and placed her lips on the white-haired girl’s palm. Shri twitched when she felt a burst of energy travel from her palm to her head, but the feeling was over in a heartbeat.

  “What was that?” She rubbed her palm until the pinch was gone.

  Teron shouted something in his sleep, sending the mermaid back into the water with a splash. He bolted upright, startled by the noise. “What happened?”

  Shri searched for the creature, but she had vanished fast into the depths of the ocean. “Nothing.” She didn’t want to tell Teron that she also could talk with the mermaids.

  “What was that noise? That splash?”

  “There was no splash. You were dreaming.”

  Teron looked at Shri for a while, then yawned, pulling the covers back up. “Try to sleep, Shri. You get really cranky when you’re tired, and I don’t want to listen to your whining tomorrow.”

  “I don’t whine.”

  Teron smirked at her.

  Shri glanced at the still water. “Not much, at least.”

  “Sleep, Shri.”

  “I’ll try.” She returned to her bedroll, thinking of her encounter with the mermaid. Why did the creature want to share her memories with Shri? What was that energy burst? Was it possible that these creatures possessed magic? With mixed thoughts, she fell asleep.

  “Wake up kids, but quietly,” Sambran’s voice said.

  Shri opened her eyes to discover that it was barely morning, but Sambran was up, gazing at the sea with a furrowed brow.

  Rising, Shri joined him to find a massive ship passing them by. It traveled majestically forward, more of a floating palace than a ship. The morning sun glistened in its golden railings and deep purple sails. The figurehead was a shaped like man holding a sphere in his hands, leaning against the wind with a serious expression.

  “What is it?” Shri whispered.

  “A Rogue ship.”

  “Rogues?” The ship was glorious. She had imagined pirate ships looking rugged and poor, but this was beautiful.

  “Pirates. Nothing more than thieving and drunken pirates,” Sambran said and spat on the deck. “Going to Glasswater to do some trading.”

  “Are we in danger?”

  “Nah,” he said. “If they wanted something, they’d have stopped us already. Must be in a hurry. Besides, all we got here is stinking fish.”

  “Are criminals allowed in Glasswater?” Teron asked, joining them at the railing.

  “They bribe the city guards, they can do pretty much anything. As long as they give the most influential houses a cut, they can trade and steal and mug anyone they want to.”

  “Ah,” Teron muttered. “Politics at its backstabbing best.”

  Shri leaned forward, attempting to trace the path of the pirate ship back to the distant horizon from which it had come. “Where do they come from?”

  “A place called the Thunder Islands,” Sambran said.

  “But where is it?”

  “Nobody knows for sure. Many have tried to find the place, but it must be hidden by some sort of magic. Any who follow them home are never seen again.”

  “Have you ever met them?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Sambran grimaced. “Yeah, I have. They never bother me, though. Not interested in my fish. They want gold, silk, fruits; luxury items. You can’t find those on the Amanda.” His face scrunching, he added, “Still... they never come this close. It’s almost like they’re warning us.”

  The next several minutes were tense, as Shri expected the pirates to come abroad and block the Amanda, after which she feared they would board the tiny vessel. Thankfully, the ship sailed on into the mist, and finally Shri could breathe again. Something about that galleon had frightened her... or thrilled her. It was hard to tell what she felt, but it was almost as if they had known Shri was there, sailing by to acknowledge her presence in the same way that the mermaid from the previous night had. But how could they know she was here? Moreover, what interest would pirates have in a girl from the Pit?

  “Are you alright?” Teron whispered to her.

  “Yeah...” Shri mumbled. “I’m fine. Just... got a bit frightened.”

  Sambran clanked his pipe against the railing. “Let’s hope we don’t run into them bastards again, kids. They’d eat you two peaches alive. Now, let’s get going. We’ll arrive at Glasswater in six hours, and I’m still short a few pounds of fish.”

  CHAPTER 7

  THE PEOPLE OF THE FOURTH Ring glared at their own feet, avoiding eye-contact with the High Mistress as they passed.

  “Look at them, Javid,” Shea said. “Poor, miserable creatures with no free will. They are mine.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Aldemar Krun locked the Fifth Ring into bondage, but I will use people from all the rings. He created the Gates, but I intend to use them properly.” Shea’s blond hair was arranged in perfect curls around her pale face. Whenever her eyes met something that disgusted her, her cheeks colored with an irritated tone of pink. Her white cape and fur mantle seemed overly dramatic in the cool air. Even if it was almost winter, the temperature in Ironflare never approached freezing. More foolish of them looked at her admiringly as she passed. Javid couldn't blame them, though; she probably looked like a fairy queen in their eyes. Some of the children even tried to touch her pearl-white cloak, but the six pike holders escorting them shooed them away.

  The Iron walls between the Rings were higher than Javid could have imagined. He had seen them from the tower, but this was his first time down in the city. He had taken a litter with Shea from the Spike, down the Passageway, and all the way to the side gate of the Fourth Ring. The Passageway was the main transportation road. It traveled through the city, all the way from the outer wall to the tower Spike. It was a wide, sandy road, cutting the city in half like an arrow shot fr
om afar. Any ring could be entered, except the Pit, from the road. At the end of the Passageway were the main gates sealing the city of Ironflare with the impenetrable, magically created Iron walls. Seeing the main gate, the way to freedom, made Javid's heart pound harder. Freedom. But he was Shea’s servant, caught in her net, compelled to follow her. She would have him killed before he could get away if he tried to make a run toward the gate.

  The Fourth Ring was the last free area before the Pit. The Pit was said to be a wild, horrible place, and senatai rarely went there. The pikes and the advocates were the only ones who visited, in their duties to collect the weapons, clothes, bread, and all the items manufactured inside the Pit.

  Javid didn't like it. It was wrong. No people should be imprisoned like that. He had heard the gossip, whispers in the dark corners of the tower, that the people inside the Pit hadn’t seen the outside world in seventy years. The whispers also said the king of Aviden himself was getting involved soon, and that he had asked the Spike and the Order of the Senatai to open the gates and grant the people of the Pit their freedom.

  Javid glanced at the wall. Behind it was the Pit. Something fluttered at the edge of his mind, something that told him he knew something about the Pit, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was something... someone...

  “I have heard rumors,” he said.

  Shea turned, a sly smile on her lips. “Oh? What kind of rumors?”

  “That I wasn’t the only survivor in the Gate Run.”

  Shea’s eyes flickered with irritation as she stroked her dress. “It doesn’t concern you.”

  Javid swallowed his hasty answer.

  Shea studied him, her head tilted. “Did you find out anything about the sword?”

  Javid nodded. He didn’t want to tell her, but if she knew he was hiding something, she would simply dig through his mind with her magic until she sucked every bit of information away from him. “Yes, one prisoner identified it. He said he knows whom it belongs to.”

  “That’s marvelous! Which one?”

  “A man. White-haired, thin. Very... powerful.”

  Shea’s nostrils widened. “What do you mean powerful?”

  Javid lifted his hand. “Not powerful like you, High Mistress. Not with magic. But it was as though he was in control, even if he was the one behind bars.”

  “Interesting. You did well, Javid.”

  She leaned closer and kissed him on his cheek. Her face lingered near his, until she leaned in again and gently nibbled his lower lip. Javid shivered. His brain felt clouded, and he had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her and—

  He took a step backward and blinked.

  Shea smirked to his confusion. “Come on then.”

  Javid followed her further, his heart racing wildly. Why would he react to her kiss like that? He didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. He was scared of her, yet when she touched him, he was filled with lust.

  “Javid, look,” Shea said, pointing at the beggars on the side of the street. Brown, sad lumps covered with rags. “Those belong to the Pit. We don’t need beggars in the other rings. In the Pit, they have a home, and they have work. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “But if they want to leave, they can’t.”

  “Well, we’re under threat of attack now. Nobody can leave. Haven’t you heard the whole city is on lockdown? We’ve called back every senatai.” A soft smile overtook her red, inviting lips. “Don’t look so shocked. You are neither deaf nor a fool. Certainly, you’ve heard the news?”

  Javid still answered nothing. Shea was up to something.

  When they arrived in a small plaza, she stopped to study the area. She pointed to a long-haired young woman cradling a baby.

  “Bring that woman to me, Javid!” Shea commanded.

  “But she has a baby in her arms.”

  Her brows shot up. “Are you defying my orders? Bring her to me, or I will kill her where she stands. I won’t hurt the baby. I have no need for those. Yet. But I like to collect my harvest when it’s ripe.”

  Javid approached the woman, and as he asked her to follow him, she began to shake. He searched for words to calm.

  Shea clapped her hands. “Now, kiss her!”

  Javid looked at Shea with his brows furrowed. “Why?”

  “Do as I say or the baby dies.”

  Javid turned to the woman and kissed her quivering lips. She was terrified, trembling.

  Shea rolled her eyes and sighed. “Properly, Javid.”

  Javid kissed the woman properly, feeling her soft lips stiffen against his. She stared at Javid with terror in her eyes, then, without warning, began to dissolve into black smoke. Javid grabbed the baby and stared in horror as the woman he had kissed vanished.

  “You should see your face, Javid!” Shea doubled over with laughter. “Oh, that was hilarious!”

  “What happened to her? What did you do to her?”

  “You’re no fun,” she frowned. “I only sent her to the Gates. Isn’t my new spell amazing?”

  The baby wiggled its legs and arms, crying for its mother. “What will happened to him?” Javid asked.

  “Oh, who cares?” Shea growled. “I really don’t like babies.”

  She took the baby in her arms and, to Javid’s increasing horror, black smoke emerged from her fingers. She was preparing to rip the baby.

  “No!” Javid grabbed her arms. “Shea, stop!”

  She fixed her steely gaze on Javid. “What will you give me if I choose not to rip this baby?”

  With little choice but to surrender, Javid said, “I will do whatever you want. Don’t kill the baby. Please.”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Fine.” Javid closed his eyes. “I will join you in bed with Doria.”

  Shea’s jingling laughter echoed in the deserted streets of Ironflare. She gave at Javid with a seductive gaze. “Oh, it’s good to have power!”

  She gave the baby to one of her pikes. “Find someone to take care of this. Come, Javid. Doria will want to hear the wonderful news!”

  Stretching her limbs, Shea left the warmth of her bed and the two people in it. Javid and Doria slept with their limbs entwined, their black hair spread across the pillows. They looked so innocent, like a happy couple; lovers sharing a bed after a night of wild lust.

  Turning her back to them, Shea wrapped her robe around herself. She felt very content. Javid had finally surrendered to her will, as he should, and everything was going the way she wanted it to.

  Exiting her private room and into her lounge, she found Senatai Karama. She had locked him there to keep him where she wanted him. This way, he was always at her disposal. The madman hadn’t spoken since telling her about Doh and Dien. She had tried to get more out of him, but he only blabbed nonsense.

  Sauntering past the crazy senatai, Shea slumped onto the soft divan. A ghost-servant brought her a chalice of wine. She tasted it, smacking her full lips.

  She would have what she wanted. Already, she had power. Such amazing power!

  She placed her hand on top of the stone. It was quiet now. Soon, Javid would be completely subservient to her will. He was only a simple boy, but a powerful budding senatai, a survivor of the Run, fitting for the High Mistress. Then, there was the “powerful” prisoner, the owner of the sword. She needed to meet him and learn who he was. He too would bend his knee to her. Based on his role in the rebellion, Shea suspected he was respected by the Pit folk. He could be the key to easing the restlessness in that slum.

  Then there was Shri. Her rival. Her counterpart.

  Shri would come to her. Shea already had her childhood friend, and all she needs to do was... persuade Shri to bend to her will. And when ultimate had been obtained, not even Firestone would stop High Mistress Shea.

  Lastly, there was Boa.

  Shea let out a vibrating sigh, rubbing her neck with one hand. There was something about that drokashai. He was her weak spot, the only one who had any influence on her. But he had left her
, he had lied to her, he had hurt her.

  She would have Boa to herself, and she would break him.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE DAYS BLENDED INTO each other. The only thing showing Merrilon that time was passing were the cups of water and the bits of moldy bread the pikes tossed in. A single beam of dim light constantly reflected on the floor of his cell from the small crack between the door and its frame. He couldn’t sleep at nights... or maybe they were days. He never could tell. The screams, the cries, and the sobs echoed through the corridors at all times, creating a desperate dirge.

  Sometimes, when he rested in a sleep-like state, he thought he was still in the Pit. The sounds were similar. He would dream about opening his eyes and seeing Shri’s smiling face, her sparkling eyes greeting him with the morning sun. But the coldness of the stone floor crept upon him, the smell of death and human waste reached his nose, and Merrilon remembered his whereabouts.

  He was a prisoner.

  He had heard from the voices of the pikes and other prisoners that the former High Master had been killed. Merrilon still shivered when he remembered his encounter with Aldemar, and all the malicious power oozing from the old man. Rumor said the killer had been a girl who was working with some senatai traitors from another place. It didn’t mean much to him—a senatai was a senatai—but he was sure the girl had been Shri. And now, there was another ruler in this city.

  The High Mistress.

  Still, all that mattered was that Shri was free. The story the woman in the next cell had told him had given him hope that Shri was alive and well. When the young male senatai had shown Merrilon compassion, he had seen Cemara’s face. He still remembered her beautiful eyes, full of courage, framed by long lashes. She had told him she had seen a girl, and that girl had resembled his daughter.

  A suffocated cry from Cemara’s cell brought him back to the present. This wasn’t right. She was an innocent woman, he was an innocent man. They shouldn’t be held captive like this. Pushing himself up, Merrilon leaned his forehead on the door. Cemara was moaning. She had been tortured again. He pressed his palm on the door’s rough surface, wishing he could help.