Blood Divided, page 23
“I never should have let Grace keep you,” Malum growled. “First you took her from me, and now you’ve failed me completely!”
Sebastian closed his eyes, thinking his father was going to rip his head from his shoulders, but instead he heard him whisper the spell to open a portal. Still holding Sebastian so his boots dangled in the air, Malum stepped through the doorway before releasing his grip; dropping to the ground, Sebastian only just managed to land on his feet.
Looking around, he found himself in the foyer of a fancy mansion that reminded him a little of the Dekarais’ house, the nicest house he’d ever been in. Thick tapestries hung on the walls, and two white marble staircases rose gracefully in opposite directions. The lights were too bright, though, and the sharp lemon scent reminded him of the products his mother used to clean house.
He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings, and as he noticed a tall woman walking towards him, an alarm sounded in his head—the woman was an Astral, the most hated enemy of his kind. To his surprise, she smiled at his father.
“This must be Sebastian,” the woman said. If she hadn’t been the most vile creature Sebastian could think of, he might have found her quite lovely, with her long silver hair and intense green eyes.
He glanced from the woman to his father, but his father didn’t return his look.
“You’ve bought the right to do whatever you want with him,” snapped Malum. “Just make sure he never sets foot in Nocens again.”
The woman’s smile widened but there was nothing friendly about it. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” she said. “Hold him, please.”
Malum pinned Sebastian’s arms behind his back as the woman produced something that looked like a collar with a small medallion hanging from it. Clicking it quickly around his neck, she nodded, and his father released him.
“Any special abilities we should know about?” the woman asked.
“He’s a Pyromancer, but there’s nothing special about him,” spat his father. Then, without so much as a backwards glance, Malum stepped through a portal and closed it behind him, leaving Sebastian alone with the Astral. She introduced herself but he wasn’t really listening, too focused on the collar around his neck, which was just tight enough to be uncomfortable.
He was vaguely aware of the woman mentioning something about a “rehabilitation program,” but it wasn’t until he was in class the next day and stumbled while reading out loud that he realized what she’d meant.
“The ability to read well is one of the things that sets us apart from animals,” said his teacher. “If you cannot read, you are clearly no better than a beast. We shall have to improve upon your nature.”
She then took him to a room where two Astrals held his arms behind his back and plunged his head into a tall bucket of water. He tried to scream but only succeeded in swallowing the water, his efforts to free himself nothing against the strength of those holding him.
Batty immediately sought help from Dunston and was gone for so long, Sebastian began to feel worried. When the bat eventually returned, he was in tears.
“I told Dunston everything that happened. He contacted your father and demanded he come over and explain himself.” Batty shook his head, causing a tear to splash on his foot. “As we know, your father can be incredibly convincing when he chooses to be. Apparently after he took you to the military academy, he set fire to the scene of his crimes. He burned down your house.”
Sebastian felt as if someone was carving a fissure across his heart with a dull knife.
“According to the story your father spread, you lost control of your pyromancy and started a fire that ultimately took your life, as well as your mother’s.” Another tear dripped off Batty’s nose. “He said the fact that I was in Nocens without you was proof our bond had been severed. I pleaded with Dunston to come to the Cypher Adran with me, to see for himself that I could not be bonded with anyone else because you are very much alive, but your father said I was delusional, among many other things.”
The bat’s wings drooped, and he hung his head. “I have failed you.”
Everything inside Sebastian hardened. He was on his own now, and he would look after himself.
The next day he got in trouble for fighting, and his shirt was taken off before he was chained against a wall, where an Astral whipped him until he passed out. He soon learned whipping was a favorite punishment of the Astrals. Other days, they attached small devices to his scalp and face and asked him questions; if they didn’t like his responses or thought they were “too much like what a Daeval would say,” they sent painful shockwaves into his head that made it feel like his entire skull was vibrating.
Most nights he lay in bed wishing he could just die and put an end to his suffering, but the one thing that gave him strength was knowing his Astral captors weren’t aware of his ability to make portals. He and his mother had never told his father Sebastian had inherited his portal-making skill, and while there were anti-portal wards in place, wards could be overcome. Someday someone wouldn’t be paying attention, and that would be the day Sebastian escaped.
27
KYRA
Waking up alone in my bed in Celenia, I wasn’t surprised to find my cheeks were wet from crying in my sleep. Everything inside me ached at what I’d witnessed. I recalled Dunston saying he hadn’t always been there for Sebastian the way he should have been; he must have been referring to not believing Batty about Sebastian being held captive in Aeles. My hand shook as I touched the golden bracelet.
Sebastian opened the connection, but while I could sense him, he didn’t say anything.
I’m so sorry, I whispered. Is there anything I can do?
Part of me expected him to say I could pretend like I’d never seen the dream, but instead he sighed. You can keep working with me to shut that program down.
I will. I sat up and brushed my hair off my face. I promise, Sebastian . . . we’ll end that program for good.
And then I realized there was something else I could do.
I’m supposed to be completing assigned readings in the Archives for Healer Omnurion today, I said, but she’s in Iscre, so no one will be checking on me. I’m still not comfortable entering Vaneklus while I’m physically in Aeles, so I need you to pick me up. I’m going to see Laycus, and I’m going to find your mother.
Sebastian was silent for a moment. Are you sure?
Yes. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.
My heart was racing as I changed out of my sleeping clothes into a tunic and breeches. Was I ready for this? I’d volunteered, which meant I had to be ready; I couldn’t let Sebastian down, not after everything he’d endured. Feeling far from confident, I was nevertheless determined to do my best.
A portal soon appeared in my living room, and as I joined Sebastian in Nocens, I didn’t miss the apprehension in his eyes or the tightness around his jaw. He kissed me, then headed to his weapons vault after explaining that training would help keep him distracted until I returned.
Sitting down in an open space, I waved goodbye to Batty and Aurelius before entering Vaneklus. My fingers reached for the edges of my shifter cloak, and something about wearing the garment I’d been gifted as the Felserpent Queen made me a little less anxious about what I was attempting.
Laycus’s boat arrived shortly, and he leaned against his ever-present staff. “Are you certain you are up for this?” he asked, correctly guessing why I was there.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound as scared as I felt. This was for Sebastian, and I would do anything for him. “Will you help me?”
Laycus nodded. “I will.”
I’d been so prepared to argue my case, I was surprised at Laycus’s concession. “What made you change your mind?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“You wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace if I refused,” he replied. “But, in addition to that motivating bit of knowledge, not even as Kareth did you do such a thing.” He shrugged before extending a skeletal hand. “It’s nice to know I can live as long as I have and still be surprised.”
Taking Laycus’s cold hand, I planted a foot on the side of his boat and allowed him to help me up, trying not to kick his beloved vessel. Thankfully, the boat didn’t so much as rock, and I sat down on the single wooden bench.
Since I hadn’t done this before, not even in another body, I had no memories to guide me, which was unnerving after having them for so many other things, but I tried to put my fear aside. This was how everyone else did things, how I’d done things until a few weeks ago, acting without knowing how my decisions would turn out.
“Away we go,” said Laycus, and by some invisible command, the boat began moving forward. Part of me expected to feel a breeze on my face, like when I was out on the ocean in my kadac, but the air was still. The only sign we were moving was the passing landscape, which consisted of enormous boulders marking the edges of the realm and preventing a shade from wandering too far from the dock.
“If Ceelum falls within your domain, why don’t you interact more with the shades there?” I always tried to make the most of my time with Laycus, learning everything I could, but talking also made me less nervous, or at least made it easier for me to ignore my nerves.
“The entire point of being in Ceelum is to rest,” replied Laycus. “How well do you rest when someone is constantly interrupting you?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “Vaneklus is just so different from what I thought it would be.”
“Death is always surprising,” agreed the Shade Transporter. “Everyone has died numerous times, yet they always act like each time is the first. I often think it would be easier if shades remembered they’d been here before and will inevitably return again.”
“Did your sister begin overseeing Karnis the same time you became the Shade Transporter?” Perhaps Laycus might let something about his background slip.
Laycus grinned. “An admirable effort, Recovrancer, but not information you need to complete your quest today.”
I scowled at his obvious glee over my failed attempt to learn more about his history.
“Batty believes Sebastian and I aren’t the only ones who’ve returned,” I said, “so I also want to ask your sister about Tallus.”
Laycus’s eyes flickered with interest, and I told him what Batty had said about Velaire, Rhannu, the Cor’Lapis stone, and reuniting the realms.
“It’s frustrating to remember certain things about my past but not others.” I sighed. “I feel like there’s so much I ought to know that would be helpful, but I can’t recall it.”
“It’s shocking you remember anything at all,” said Laycus. “Clearly you prioritized your memories with Schatten, so I’m not surprised you remember those best.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what a foolish choice I’d made.
“What do you know of Tallus?” I asked. “You must have ferried him at least a few times.” Deep down, some part of me wished Laycus had claimed the man’s shade for himself at some point, consuming him and ending his existence.
Laycus smirked as if he knew what I was thinking, and given the odd properties of Vaneklus, as well as my stronger connection to the realm, it was entirely possible he was somehow aware of my thoughts.
“Tallus has always appeared on my shores at his appointed times. I could not have claimed him, even if I’d wished to.”
“Would you? If you could have?”
Laycus gazed into the distance. “I have always been biased when it comes to you,” he finally said. “If there was a way to keep Tallus from harming you, I would have done it by now.”
“Why me? Out of all the shades you’ve met and ferried, why take an interest in me?”
“Well, for one thing because you’re a Recovrancer. I know I’m going to see you in my domain whether I want to or not.” Laycus made no effort to hide the exasperation in his tone. “Much as I would love to bar your kind from ever entering Vaneklus again, that isn’t how it works, hence, I must be at peace with it as best I can. But you’ve always been different, every time I encountered you.”
I sat up straighter, Laycus’s words sparking something inside me. “You knew me in other lives, didn’t you? Not just as Kareth.” Excitement sped through me at the prospect of learning more about my own history.
Laycus studied me closely. “Forgetting can be a kindness,” he cautioned. “There are very real difficulties associated with remembering every day of every life. I worry about telling you too much and overwhelming you. I am not saying we will never have this conversation, but I think it best to focus on the task at hand.”
While part of me wanted to insist I could handle anything Laycus shared, the rest of me considered his words, as they were surprisingly similar to things I’d read in The Book of Recovrancy. I was more fortunate than most, able to remember at least parts of a past life and reconnecting with the man I’d been married to in that life. Anything else I’d done, or anyone else I’d been, surely paled in comparison.
At the same time, I hated not having information that involved me . . . although Laycus’s measured response had made at least one thing clear.
“You did know me in other lives, then,” I said. “Not just as Kareth and who I am now.”
“I did,” nodded Laycus. “And you’ll be pleased to know you always strove to improve relations between Astrals and Daevals. I’ve never seen you more livid than when the Blood Alarm was established.”
Something tugged on the edge of my attention, the awareness of a memory I knew I’d made but couldn’t quite remember how to access.
“When was the Blood Alarm established?”
“Approximately nine hundred years ago, give or take a decade,” said Laycus.
I thought back to the other Recovrancers I’d read about while visiting the Aelian Archives with Demitri after my first trip into Vaneklus. One of them had been a woman named Jaesian, and she’d lived roughly nine hundred years ago.
“Did I always come back as a Recovrancer?” My heartbeat sped up. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to lean over and see something important down below.
Laycus was silent, clearly weighing his response. Trying to make it easier for him, I asked, “Was I Jaesian? I came across her in my research. She used a tuning fork the way I use my sana bracelet. Was that me?”
“Yes,” said Laycus, “but no more questions about your past lives. I don’t want to be responsible for damaging your mind by burdening you with information you’re not fit to process.”
Telling myself I would do more research on Jaesian later, both in Aeles and using The Book of Recovrancy, I turned my attention to the front of the boat. A fog bank parted, allowing us to slip through a narrow opening, and the current of the grey water picked up, causing me to sway a little on the bench.
The scenery on either side of the river was slowly changing, dark and ominous boulders giving way to shining white quartz formations. While there was still no grass, clusters of pearls lined the banks like sea anemones, glinting occasionally in a light whose source I’d never been able to determine.
Time stretched on, and Laycus stopped the boat at three different points, saying words in a language I didn’t know and making complicated gestures with his hands before we continued on.
“There are gates here,” he explained. “The river only flows towards Karnis, but that hasn’t stopped some shades from changing their minds partway through the journey and trying to swim back to something familiar. Gates were installed to prevent such a thing from happening.”
I nodded, appreciating the unexpected information, before noticing the color of the river had changed. Instead of a dull grey, it was clear . . . so clear, in fact, I could see all the way down to the riverbed, dotted with smooth white stones. Slender snow-colored trees lined the river’s edges, their white boughs beckoning gently onwards; instead of leaves, though, clear crystals hung from their branches.
The river took a sharp turn, and while I couldn’t wait to see what was around the bend, Laycus placed his staff into the water, drawing the boat to a stop.
“Hello, Suryal,” he called. “I have someone who wishes to speak with you.”
A boat of bleached wood suddenly appeared from a hidden cove. A figure stood at the front, dressed in a shroud and cowled hood like Laycus, but while he wore all black, this figure was clothed in white. As the pale boat pulled up beside us, the figure lowered the hood to reveal a woman with garnet-red eyes. While her face was similar to Laycus’s—little more than a skull covered in skin—she also had long white hair and a kind smile.
“Welcome to Karnis.” She dipped her head in greeting. “This must have been extremely important if you were willing to make the trip confined in a boat with only my brother for company.”
“I’m grateful he brought me,” I replied, “just as I’m grateful to you for meeting with me. I’m Kyra.”
“I am Suryal,” the ruler of Karnis smiled. “How may I be of service?”
“I’d like to ask you about two shades. The first is Grace Sayre. She died thirteen years ago but it wasn’t her time. Has she passed through your waters since then?”
Suryal closed her eyes and appeared deep in thought. I was so nervous it was difficult to breathe, and I dug my fingertips into the wooden bench. This was it . . . this would determine whether or not I truly had a chance of recovering Sebastian’s mother.
Suryal finally blinked her eyes open. “No,” she said. “Grace Sayre has not crossed my waters in the time period you are describing.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “That means she’s still in Ceelum.”
“So it would seem,” Suryal nodded. “I’ve been expecting her for a few years now, but she seems disinclined to return to the land of the living.” Sweeping her long white hair over one shoulder, she added, “Or perhaps she is merely disinclined to return to the land of the living through me. She must wish to preserve the memories she made in her last physical body.”
