Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (25 page)

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

D
ayn 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

R
eiv 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.