Wings of Ruin (Otherworld Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  Cassandra downed the last of her wine then strode out of the pub with Mikael and Elijah close behind. Surrounded by her soldiers they began to retreat – they'd been promised lodgings in a young widow's home along with her two neighbors for the duration of their stay and they took it rather than the far nicer hotel in the city's center they could certainly afford if they’d wished. Even such small choices mattered. Cast iron torches fought back the night, but Cassandra was not afraid of the dark and her heart did not flinch when she noticed a silent follower lurking in the shadows.

  “That was quite a speech, suverenya,” a gravelly voice cut through the dark.

  She turned slowly, her guard parting so she might face this messenger. “I did not make it for applause.”

  He grinned revealing missing teeth. “Worthy of it though it was.” Nodding his head he barked, “Come.”

  Cassandra made no move to follow. “Where?”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “To that shiny golden boy leader you were so eager to find.”

  They followed his swift pace until he held the door to a modest home open for them to enter. Cassandra's brows rose in question. “We aim to help those who cannot help themselves and you suggest we install a comfortably middle class gentleman as their champion?”

  The man shrugged. “Like you said, they cannot help themselves and the wealthy do not even wish to try. So I offer you some rare middle ground.” He leaned in, his eyes shifting between hers. “This is who you want. I promise you that.”

  With a skeptical nod she followed Mikael inside. A housekeeper was tidying up in the small kitchen and a dog watched them warily from the hearth. Cassandra ignored them both, her attention immediately caught upon the man who descended a narrow set of stairs.

  Strawberry blond hair neatly combed and a beard to match, the man removed his spectacles and extended his hand in greeting. “Did I see Archer leave just now? Hello there, I'm Henri Morrigan. What can I help you with?”

  Cassandra shook his hand and Henri's smile remained warm though his eyes quickly took in the soldiers stationed outside his home. He did not seem surprised by their presence. “Do you know who I am, Henri?”

  He dipped his head as embarrassment touched his cheeks. “Ja, I do. I visit South Street quite often and my curiosity got the better of me when word spread of your arrival. Cassandra, La Suverenya of Quidel.” He ushered them towards his cozy sitting room, allowing them the couch while he took up a high-backed chair. “I was only able to linger amongst the crowd for a short while, but I certainly heard enough to be intrigued.”

  Tilting her head as she assessed the man seated before them she asked, “What is it you do, Henri? I find it curious that someone like you spends so much time in South Street.”

  “I'm a solicitor,” he replied. “I spend much of my time there because they are the ones that need it the most.”

  “I see,” she answered softly. “Then your friend Archer was right. You are the man I've been searching for.”

  Henri's brow furrowed in confusion. “Pardon me?”

  “You've heard what I have accomplished in Quidel, yes? Well I am here in hopes of aiding Aztlan as well,” she explained. “Of course I couldn't possibly manage both regions myself. I find it a more prudent choice to fill such a position with a local and, after sharing my methods, allow them to lead on their own.”

  Henri's jaw dropped. “You are here asking me to become what some might call a king?”

  “Aztlan is suffering when it could be so much more. Quidel has become prosperous under my perhaps radical reign and I know Aztlan could follow suit if guided by the right hand.”

  He turned his head thoughtfully, gazing into the fire. “And you believe that person to be me?”

  “Archer believes that person to be you,” Cassandra corrected.

  “But...that is simply not how things are done in Oneiroi,” Henri protested, his gaze still distant in the fire. “None are to rule any other here. We are all to be left free and at peace.”

  She scoffed lightly. “Free we might be, but at peace? Surely you know more than most others the falsity in that promise as things stand now. Besides, we need not rule forever. People just need a guiding force to help show them the way, to organize the chaos and frayed edges. Once balance has been restored, prosperity back in our grasp, we can return to blessed obscurity.” Cassandra stared until he met her gaze. “Leadership is a burden and leadership of an entire people is a burden no sane soul would ask for. Nevertheless the people need it and so we must set our wants aside and answer the call.”

  “Please,” Elijah piped up from where he'd been silent on the couch. “Your people need it. I know what it is like to hunger and beg and forget what it is to hope. Cassandra changed my life, people fear her for it but I stand by her. How can I not when she's the reason I am alive this day?”

  His youthful eyes were round and beseeching and the longer Henri's eyes locked with his the more Cassandra could see his reluctance crumble.

  “And who might you be?” he asked Elijah softly.

  “I'm Eli,” he smiled proudly. “I was an orphan ordered to die when she came and promised me everything. Then true to her word I received it. Let her help your people. She can do it, I swear.”

  “Elijah is my heir. Mikael is my advisor and personal guard,” Cassandra introduced with a gesture at either man. “Neither of them from the same circumstances because I seek those with the right hearts, the right visions, to fill seats of power. You, Henri Morrigan, are exactly that. Your people have spoken. We were brought to your doorstep by a man who speaks on their behalf. Will you answer their plea?”

  Medusa drummed her fingers anxiously along the ancient oak table. The Whispers stationed in Mordréda had dispersed across Oneiroi. She, along with a few others, had chosen the tranquil solitude of their village in Silvanus. Jourdies seldom set foot into the dense forest that made up the northern border of Oneiroi, certainly never venturing anywhere near the Silas Mountains. They believed the land dangerous and guarded by magic. They were right. None were punished for crossing the border, for there were no true borders in Oneiroi and anyone could go wherever they pleased, but those few who did often returned home reporting strange happenings that rose the small hairs on the backs of their necks and never went back for seconds.

  Truthfully it was the fault of a few mischievous Whispers and Weepys who enjoyed playing tricks on the unsuspecting. They'd been chastised of course, but deep down Medusa believed the Whispers all enjoyed having a little place to themselves. Living for longer than an age became a burden no others could understand and often required a retreat from time to time to come to terms with it. The land was beautiful and untouched. She could not fault the Jourdies who picnicked at the forest's edge or the Weepys that flocked to its shadows or even the Whispers that selfishly nudged any intruders out.

  “Medusa,” a voice snapped, causing her to jump.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “My thoughts wandered.”

  Xià squeezed her hand gently. “You need the healing of Silvanus more than any of us, Sa. Why don't you go rest?”

  “There is no time for resting,” Sasha snapped. “We must act. All we do is talk–”

  “You're starting to sound like someone,” Abel accused angrily.

  “Well maybe she had a point,” Sasha huffed. “We do talk a lot and act very little.”

  “There was no need to act,” Abel argued right back. “Everything was fine.”

  “Everything was not fine,” Sa sighed. “And even if it was, that should not be enough. Cassandra was right at least in that. I mean, look at what she has accomplished already.”

  “Yes, quite. And if one put a notch in a tree for every ounce of blood she's spilled to get it that tree would be naught but a toothpick,” Abel agreed sarcastically.

  “Stop,” Xià reprimanded sharply. “My sister is gone. Anya's brother is gone. Tiago is gone. Cassandra is rogue and Kenshin is lost.” She huffed angrily through her nose.
“When will we ever learn?” she asked herself.

  “How could Oneiroi ever choose them as Whispers?” Abel asked quietly, slumped in his seat looking utterly defeated. “How could Titus ever let them touch her shores?”

  Sa shook her head resolutely. “Everyone deserves a chance. There have been so many who turned themselves around when reaching the Island all because they were given a chance.”

  “I wish they would all take it,” Sasha grumbled.

  “They did,” Xià countered. “They took the chance to have a new life. What they did with it was not ours to dictate. It never was.” Standing, she began to pace while her twin, Ping, remained seated and silent though his eyes were ever watchful. “None of this matters. Blame and faults no longer matter. What we must focus on is what is. Quidel, Aztlan, and Llyr have transformed from regions of a forgotten time into kingdoms with guarded borders. Henri Morrigan and Aashiq Waseem will both be coronated officially by the month's end. We must decide: do we fight this or yield to the people?”

  “This expansion of power is upsetting the natural balance of Oneiroi,” Abel shook his head. “It must be stopped. Chaos only breeds chaos. Bloodshed will become a cycle with no end. First to establish reign, then to maintain it. Cassandra must be stopped at all costs,” he decided with a bang of his fist against the low table.

  “This is bigger than just Cassandra now,” Sa insisted. “This is no longer one individual with dangerous ambitions. This is a movement amongst the people. It is too late. If we wanted it stopped then we should have acted sooner.”

  “Talk, talk, talk,” Sasha muttered under her breath.

  Abel glared. “Then what is to be done? The Island is of one people, yet now it is being divided. You cannot believe this a good thing?”

  “Of course not!” Sa snapped.

  “None of us agree with the direction of things,” Xià interceded calmly. “We must agree, however, on how to respond. If we attack their leaders now, people chosen out of admiration and trust, or destroy the progress already made in the three kingdoms, progress that has admittedly begun to bring prosperity the people enjoy, then we will undoubtedly be cast as the enemy.

  “The Whispers are the Guardians of Oneiroi,” she reminded them sternly. “We are called to protect the Island and its people. We are not tyrant rulers. We are caregivers. Protectors. Guardians. I say we let them go forwards with this attempt to rule themselves. Let them pursue this path. We will withdraw. Let them feel our absence. We will watch and wait. Let them play into the prophecy's hands. We will seek out the lost twin. Let them create an empire of their own demise. We will be ready to catch them when they fall.” She looked at them each in turn, her gaze ancient and wise despite the young body it resided in. “The prophecy must play out and we must do our part. There is no stopping it now.”

  Silence hung heavy in the air. Each Whisper caught in a quagmire of If's and When's. So absorbed in their thoughts they did not feel the passage of time, but at last a voice broke through.

  “We wait for the twin,” Ping decided. “We withdraw the Whispers to Silvanus and allow no others to cross its border. We will wait.”

  Agreement bowed their heads.

  “How long will we wait, I wonder,” Sa whispered. “It seems only yesterday the twins were born and the prophecy bestowed.”

  Abel shrugged, resigned. “Oneiroi's timeline is not connected to the Outer World. The twin could return in days or decades. We will simply have to wait.”

  “And be ready,” Sasha agreed.

  Chapter 33

  Fanfare the likes of which Oneiroi had not seen for centuries choked the air. Color, crowds, and cheers painted a picture of revolution. Sa watched in the shadows with Abel and Aztlan's Whisper Council by her side. Wariness and tension radiated from them, apprehension at what lay ahead as well as sorrow. A choice would be offered to the crowd, a decision would be demanded, and yet they already knew the outcome. Unbridled hope gleamed in every eye that passed. And rage. Pride. Faith. Faith in a nobody orphan with ambitions too big to be chained and when they'd tried it only imploded into the very disaster they so desperately had wanted to avoid.

  Aztlan gleamed warm and bright as the crowd swarmed the courtyard of the old Whisper citadel – a beautiful stone castle with a forgotten history. Banners hung everywhere, emerald and silver with a bear as its sigil. Everyone's eager gaze pointed towards a raised dais built in the square's center and Sa shifted her attention there as well.

  Cassandra stood proud beside Henri Morrigan, the new leader of Aztlan. A Rajah, they were to be called. He had a kind face but seemed out of place unlike Cassandra who looked born for the role. Her hawklike eyes seemed to catch upon Sa's even though she knew it impossible. Cassandra was like one of those eerie paintings whose eyes seemed to follow one everywhere, except she was alive and far more lethal.

  A strong wind suddenly caught the large banners and they unfurled behind their Rajahs defiantly. With a jolt Sa saw that Quidel's deep purple and bronze flag bore a crow, or was it a raven? Regardless she knew it was a message for Titus and his birds. A symbol she'd heard rumors say Cassandra had stolen for herself, using what little magic she had to move them around like pawns and gaze knowingly through their eyes just as Titus once did to her.

  At last the trumpets rang their final note and the crowd hushed. It was time.

  Before any fancy speeches of frills and inconsequence could be made, the Whispers stepped out from the shadows and parted the crowd. Now Sa knew Cassandra's eyes were on her. In measured steps, their heads high, they stalked the dais and ascended its steps one by one. Henri moved to one side allowing them more room and Cassandra followed reluctantly, never taking her eyes off of them.

  Abel gazed around at the gathered crowd and raised his hands to stifle the murmurs that had arisen at their appearance. “Aztlan,” he began. “We are the Whispers who have protected you since the beginning. Some, before you were born, and others when you were born again upon Oneiroi's shores. Our calling is simple but great: protect Oneiroi and its people. Have we not done this? Have we not settled disputes when called upon? Have we not comforted those who grieve? Have we not dealt with those who do harm? Our calling is one bestowed upon us by Oneiroi itself. The Collector collects, the Guardians guard, and the people live in peace. This is the ordained way of things.

  “How then, can you dismiss us so? Our sacred duty is to protect you, guide you, love you! And we do! Our hearts break at the bloodshed, the uncertainty, the desperation...please, how can you not know this?”

  Abel straightened, calming the passion that flowed out from his words. “We can stand by no longer. You are to choose. Abandon this treasonous notion of kingdoms, division, greed...or the Whispers shall abandon you.”

  The Whispers waited in the silence, desperately searching the faces around them, and with each they saw they mourned. Cassandra had efficiently put it into their minds that the Whispers held an unfair advantage of magic and immortality, turning the people against them. She'd somehow managed to side-step her own association with the Whispers, or perhaps twist it to her advantage, and planted within the people a desire to rule themselves instead of under the feet of children. Abel's words had fallen on deaf ears. They did not wish to be saved from the grave they dug.

  Cassandra stepped forwards, breaking the silence. “We have chosen.”

  Sa met her old friend's eyes and did not know if she showed hatred or sorrow for she felt both as she looked at the girl who could've chosen a different path, a better one. Cassandra's held no feeling, gave her nothing, not even arrogance or triumph. Medusa was no one to her. Not anymore.

  Abel took another step forwards to recapture the crowd's attention. “You seek to no longer serve Oneiroi therefore we shall cease to serve you. We yield.” A rage burned in his eyes and the crowd seemed to hold its breath. “But know this,” he paused to steady himself. “Dare trespass upon the northern woods into Silvanus and risk death. Oneiroi's magic rules strongest there and punish
ment awaits you for turning against the Island.”

  Henri's mouth gaped slightly and Cassandra pushed forwards into Abel's face utterly furious. “You think to keep us from what is ours?” she snarled.

  “Of course not,” Abel shrugged coldly. “I am merely passing along a warning for those who think to take.”

  Cassandra straightened. “The Whispers abandon us. They seize our northern lands. Do this, for we cannot stop you, but know that in turn we banish you and all your kind. Retreat with your tails tucked between your legs and no acolytes to worship your every charity, but dare leave those precious woods and it will be your lives that meet death's door.”

  “A Whisper cannot be killed,” Abel sneered.

  Cassandra grinned, a slow and wicked thing. “No, but I think it might be most fun to try.” Her voice was calm and it iced Sa's veins to hear. “If I ever catch a Whisper on Jourdie soil, I'll sink a blade into their heart then bind them in chains and drag them to my dungeons where I can do it again and again until they beg the Island release their soul to die. Do not think to cross me, Abel of Noble Arrogance. It has not turned out well for you yet.”

  Abel opened his mouth with a brash retort on his tongue when Xià placed her hand firmly on his arm. Ping stepped forwards, his warm eyes capturing Cassandra in their ancient depths. “Tseloti ina tinikaree,” he murmured softly with a slight bow then turned to descend from the platform. One by one the other Whispers followed.

  Some instinct within her moved her lips pulling forth the same words with unusual reverence. “Tseloti ina tinikaree,” she murmured.

  Though he surely could not have heard her, Ping looked over his shoulder and smiled.

  Despite Cassandra's threats, Sa and Abel travelled to Llyr when the time came for Aashiq's coronation. Together with the Whisper Council of Llyr they beseeched the people once more and as in Aztlan no pity or doubt could be found. Cassandra repeated her own decree of banishing the Whispers and only when they faded into the crowd did she at last relax. They were gone and she was ruler of Quidel. She'd wanted a seat upon the Council and now she held supremacy over the entire Northwestern territory of Oneiroi. At last. At last. And yet it was not enough.