The Land the Gods Forgot, page 19
How many of these used to live in Daganold? Or Kynligarde or Holrvund? They probably had families, wives, and children. She thought back to the cages in the basement, to the faces of more than one young man. Younger than her, she was sure. Part of her desperately wanted to know what became of their families, but then she didn't want to break her own heart even more. All she could do was pray to any gods listening that they had managed to escape. Maybe Hedda was tending to them now.
Keeping the smiling and warm face of her mentor in her mind, Bria turned from the window and headed back down the hallway. She had passed the kitchens at some point and something had smelled good. Maybe it would be easier to eat now that Refkell wasn't staring at her.
Days of wandering the castle grounds and she had found nothing. She was about ready to march straight to Valda and demand she tell her everything about magic. Somehow though, Bria suspected that wouldn't turn out well.
Passing the window in her room, she looked out into the dark sky. The nearly full moon cast a blueish glow in her room and on the landscape below. A shiver wracked her frame as she turned to the fire. She had let the fire in the corner burn down to embers. Stupid of her, when the snow had begun to fall just the day before and it was getting colder by the hour.
The Beasts — what was left of them — had returned from the battle at Kynligarde but no one would tell her anything. And Refkell hadn’t returned yet, so she had no idea how the battle had gone. Of course, Refkell had probably gone straight back to Daganold after the battle. He had to keep his cover, after all.
Sighing, she turned away from the dying fire. The mirror on the opposite wall grabbed her attention; there was a small light coming from behind it like a candle had been placed there. Her eyebrows pinched on her forehead as she slowly walked closer. She had never noticed how large the mirror was until she tried to push it out of the way. It didn't move, not even an inch. Groaning, she planted her feet on the floor and leaned into the side of the mirror with all her might. Slowly at first, and then all at once, it slid out of the way.
Bria had to clench her eyes tightly and reopen them for her brain to register what she was seeing. It was a door. A door cut into the stone wall. Small, the rounded top only came to her middle. Running her fingers along it, she swore it hadn't been there before. It was impossible for her to miss such a thing, wasn’t it? It was flush with the wall, only the smallest crack gave it away. There was no handle or hole for her hand to grasp. Looking behind her, toward the closed door, she half expected a guard to come rushing in. But no one did. Either they hadn't heard her slide the mirror or they simply didn’t care. She was inclined to believe the latter.
Turning back to the door, she bit her lip as she laid her palm flat on the stone. With all her might she pushed on the rough surface. She didn't expect it to swing open before her, but it did.
At first, all she could see was darkness. Scrambling to her feet, she retrieved a torch from beside the fire and lit it with the embers. With more light inside the doorway, she could see stone steps leading down into the dark. Cobwebs stretched across the low ceiling. A musty damp smell found her nose when she stuck her head further into the space.
Bria was certain of something, as she gave her door a final glance before she began to descend the stairs; the door hadn't been there before. Some sort of magic had allowed the door to reveal itself. As spiders skittered across the walls and the flame from her torch burned up cobwebs, she hoped it was the good kind of magic.
Without any windows, it was impossible to tell how long she had been descending. But if she guessed correctly, she was now far below even the basement of the castle. Just as she was beginning to wonder how many more steps there could possibly be, a flat surface appeared in the light of her torch. When she reached the bottom she paused, her mouth hanging open on its own accord.
It was a cavern, complete with stalactites as sharp as daggers and a stream running through it. The sound of the water moving against the rocks echoed in the large space. It was like hearing the ocean in a seashell it was so loud. Reflections off the water from her torch danced across the boulders and high ceiling, flickering over the flowing water. She had never seen anything like it.
The way the water glistened in the torchlight called to her like a siren’s song was being sung from its depths. Setting the torch down on a boulder, she made her way over to the stream. Kneeling, not caring that her dress was getting wet and muddy, she stuck her hands into the water. It was freezing cold, biting at her skin as she splayed her fingers out. She was so far underground, where was this water even coming from? She had heard of underground rivers but had never seen one herself. Of course, she wasn't exactly an apt cave explorer.
Pulling her hands free of the water, she shook them to return feeling to her fingers. Pins and needles filled her hands as she tried to warm them. Sitting back on her heels, she admired the cave around her. How did something like this exist under the castle and no one knew? Or maybe they just didn't care. A cave wasn't useful to people who only cared about conquering the world above.
Climbing to her feet, she reached for the torch where it lay. Her fingers brushed the wood when light burst into existence behind her. Spinning around, holding the torch in front of her like a weapon, she expected to find someone standing there. But there was no one; she was still alone in the cave. On the opposite wall, however, light danced across the stone like it was coming from a projector. Shadowed figures like old cave drawings she’d seen on the History Channel came to life. As she watched, images began to darken in the light. Two groups began to form on either side. Black figures moved across the rock, the only distinguishing features being the helmets on their heads — One group had a spike on the top whereas the other had none.
All at once, sound filled the cave, making her jump. The cries of warriors could be heard; swords clashing against shields beating like drums.
Before the groups met in the middle, she already knew she was paying witness to a great battle. Swords and axes were held in the hands of the figures; shields protected the front of both lines. Swords and shields clanged loudly in the cave. The yells and shouts of war made her ears ring. She wanted to cover her ears but was frozen in a mix of fear and awe. How was this happening? Who was doing it?
Just as suddenly as the fight had started, it stopped. The silence made her ears ring more than the sounds of battle. The warriors faded away and were replaced with the figure of a woman. On either side of her was a man; One wore a helmet with a spike on the top while the other wore no helmet at all. Each man pulled at the woman, her arms outstretched on either side. Bria could hear them yelling, but the words weren't clear. White tears leaked from where the woman's eyes would be.
A crack appeared in the woman's chest before she was ripped in two. Screams of agony and sorrow broke out. The men took up their swords and began to fight each other, slashing high and low. More warriors appeared from the corners of the light, filing in behind each of the warriors.
The image backed up, becoming smaller as if she was watching from the back of a bird. It showed two cities on either side of a field, fighting in the middle as fires burned. Then, in the middle of it all, a white hole opened up and swallowed it all. For a breath, nothing happened but then a map began to bleed into the white. A map she had seen in the guardhouse in Daganold. It was a map of Volheimer.
Bria was exhausted by the time she trekked back up the stone steps and into her room. Bending low to get out the doorway, she glanced at the window — the sun was beginning to rise, lighting the world around her. She dusted off her dress of cobwebs and dirt, exiting the magical doorway and straightening her body. Looking back, the stone she pushed away slowly creaked back into place. A flash of light illuminated the crack between the door and wall before it went out. No one would ever know a door sat there.
Standing in the quiet and stillness of her room, Bria took a deep breath. At first, the images playing on the cave wall made little sense. But as she had climbed higher and higher back into the light, understanding began to dawn on her. Whoever or whatever had shown her the story was still a mystery, but she was certain she understood the tale; It was the myth of Volheimer, of how the clans had been transported there. No one seemed to remember why the two clans fought or when it had started. Now Bria knew.
Of course, it would've been over a woman.
Rolling her eyes to herself, she headed to the small wash basin in the corner to splash cold water on her face. Alarik's people had been at war with Feigrund for generations, all because two men had wanted the same woman. It was a story as old as time and yet Bria couldn't help but be annoyed. Hundreds, thousands, had died over the years in a pointless war and no one even remembered why they were fighting!
The water was cold on her skin, shocking her senses and clearing her mind. Gripping the sides of the bowl, she looked at the latched door of her room. All of this, all the betrayal and death, was because of a love triangle. And now here she was in the exact same position. On one side there was Alarik, home, and friends. On the other, there was Refkell and the sort of power and future she couldn't even dream of. Not that she even wanted to.
She felt each man's hand on her wrists, pulling her in two directions. She just hoped she found a way to stop all of this before they ripped her in two, just like the poor woman in the vision.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
~Bria~
Two more days had passed and Bria was no closer to figuring out why the cave showed her the vision and what she was supposed to do next.
Aimlessly wandering the halls of the castle, she passed a door with a rune carved into the wood. She had never seen the door — or the rune — before. Looking up and down the hallway, she realized she must have turned down a hall she hadn’t gone down before. There were no guards in sight, having long since stopped following her every time she went for a walk. Her curiosity peaked, she pushed the door open.
Dust and the smell of old paper filled her nose. It was a study. She had stumbled upon a room full of scrolls and stone tablets etched with runes. Walking further into the room, she grabbed the first tablet she reached. Her knowledge of runes was basic at best; she couldn't read what was carved into the rock. Sighing, she set it back down on the table. Spinning around in a circle, she took in the room around her.
It was small, half the size of her room in the fortress. One window illuminated the space, it sat high above the shelves; a carved hole into the stone of the castle. Dust sparkled in the light as it poured in, reminding Bria of pixie dust and glitter. Two things that didn't belong in Feigrund. Dozens of scrolls littered the black shelves; just as many stone tablets sat throughout the space. There was no fireplace in the room, leaving it cold and dimly lit. Where this room even was in the grand floor plan of the fortress, she had no idea. She hadn't exactly been counting her turns as wandered.
Sitting in the only chair, she pulled another tablet into her lap. The runes were just as foreign to her as they had been moments ago. She ran her fingers along the carvings, feeling the lines as they cut into the stone. One rune, looking like a strangely angled 'F', cut her finger as she passed it. Hissing, she pulled her hand away and stuck her finger into her mouth. It was just a small cut, it wouldn't bleed much. Setting the tablet back on the table, she reached for the end of her dress to use as a bandaid when she froze. The runes on the tablet were shining like a flashlight was behind them.
Vitality. That was what the rune meant.
Staring at the tablet, the meaning of all of the runes carved into its surface made sense to her. She could read it! The small cut on her finger forgotten, Bria yanked the stone closer to her. She couldn't read the runes fast enough and yet no matter how quickly her eyes scanned the shapes she understood them.
With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, she took a deep breath. She needed to slow down a second and register what she was reading. Squinting in the dimly lit room, she followed the runes with her uncut finger.
It was a spell. Something about taking the life force of another. The rune for vitality, the one that had cut her finger, was the main ingredient. Standing, she set the stone on the chair and reached for a scroll near her shoulder. Another spell, this one for strength. Each scroll and tablet in the room had some kind of curse or enchantment on it. Somehow, by some miracle or more magic, she found the place where Refkell and Valda kept their spells. And she could read them.
Hours later, with her brain full of information she didn't even know how to process and her stomach growling, Bria peered out of the study. The hallway was dark, and most importantly, empty. Shutting the door as quietly as possible, she made her way toward the kitchens — at least she was pretty sure the kitchens were in that direction. She didn’t want to get lost in this castle, there was no telling what she’d find.
Walking through the hall, she passed a torch that was no longer lit; the flames long since gone out. The whole section of the hall felt eerie to her, hidden in shadows until the next torch a good dozen feet away. Thinking back to the scrolls she just spent hours reading, Bria bit her lip. Could she do magic, really? She finally accepted the fact that some form of magic brought her to Volheimer; couldn't deny the magic that turned those poor men into monsters. But did she truly believe she could do it herself?
Staring at the torch, she pictured the dry embers lighting again, their flames lighting her path. Once the image was solid in her mind, she whispered a word she had seen in one of the books.
Flames burst forth into existence, sparks flying around the hallway until the flares subsided and shrunk to a safe size. The hallway was bathed in light and Bria stood like a deer caught in headlights. She did it. She did magic; real magic! Her head was spinning with the energy running through her veins. Her limbs felt tingly like she had fallen asleep at a strange angle. The hallway tunneled in, the next turn coming to meet her. Everything was in hyper-focus; she could see the spider in the right corner where the wall met the ceiling; could hear the clanking of guards walking further down the hall. Just as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. The hall looked normal again; the flames on the torch burning like all of the others.
When she was sure her legs would continue to hold her if she moved, she slowly made her way passed the torch in question and then the next. Darkness lit by the flames of torches, their circles of light touching their neighbors in an endless line. Before she knew it she was standing in front of the kitchens, the smells of cooking fish and pork clearing her head.
Later that night when she stood in her room, she watched the sun set beyond the mountain where she knew Daganold sat. What was happening over there? How had her friends faired during the attack on Kynligarde? Had she lost someone dear to her and didn’t even know it?
A frustrated sound escaped her lips. Here she was, able to do real magic and yet unable to help people in need. No spell she saw in the mystery room alluded to teleportation. Magic couldn't move you from one place to another. Apparently, that was all Hollywood talking. Deciding it was best that she try and get some sleep, she headed for her bed.
A light beyond the mirror grabbed her attention. Her stomach began to churn as she cautiously made her way over, using all of her strength to push the mirror out of the way again. There, lighting up the darkness of her room, was the doorway in stone. This time she didn't even have to touch it for the door to swing open.
With a fleeting look at her bed, she turned for the door. Entering into the cave was just as magical as it was the first time. Although something about the trek down felt different now like she was walking into a future she didn't know if she was prepared for but one she was heading for nonetheless. When the sound of water running reached her ears, a smile grew on her face that she was unable to hinder. Ever since she lit that torch she felt different inside. Like something was waking.
Which is the reason she gave herself for having the urge to step into the frigid water and risk frostbite. She couldn't explain it but she knew that's what she needed to do. At least she sure hoped so because she quickly lost feeling in her toes. Just as she was about to climb out of the water and see if that spell she did had been a fluke, light burst forth in the water before her.
Images began to appear like the ones on the wall but this time they were in full color. It was like looking at a TV screen underwater, the images shimmered and wavered with the stream. A very familiar set of blue eyes filled the watery screen and had her squinting to see more clearly. It was Refkell, his face dirty and bloody as he yelled, raising his sword to deflect a blow. Fires burned behind him and Bria could hear the screams of women and children. Was this currently happening? Or was the river showing her the battle at Kynligarde that happened days ago?
The image abruptly zoomed out, flying over the burning village and through trees and over hills. When the movement stopped, the Hall in Daganold sat in the middle. Slower this time, the image descended on the building and went through the wall. There, seated at the table looking as glum as ever, was Alarik. Emblyn and Oryn were there as well, and another man that Bria didn't recognize whose left leg ended just below his knee. When the water shimmered, and showed her Refkell sitting close to his brother, Bria wanted to scream.
So the battle it had shown her must have already happened. And there was Refkell, playing the dutiful role of Advisor to the King. It made her stomach roll.
But elation and a deep ache of longing filled her heart at the sight of Alarik and her friends, making her throat close with the force of emotion. She couldn't deny the small voice in her head that said she would never see them again. Their mouths were moving but she couldn't hear what they were saying. Bria's hands clenched into fists. She wanted to hear their conversation. She wanted to hear his voice.
As if the stream heard her plea, the voices of her friends filled the cave.
