Heartrender, page 15
“Necto?” I asked, remembering the name from Asenav’s story of Eman and Ophidian. “Who’s he?”
“No time to explain,” Romen said, handing the clavum back to Lyle.
Lyle balanced the device flat on his palm. “Romen gave me the clavum before, to start the process when Eman sent me to the Hall of the Elders the first time. I already opened time to the night before your Heart Reign, but now that I have my own heart again, I have enough power to break the circle so that time may continue.”
“You need to make sure you go to the past at the correct moment,” Romen chided, eyeing the clavum. “If you’re not precise, Addie’s time circle will break.”
“What ‘time circle’?” I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. “What are you two talking about?”
Lyle opened the front of the clavum, spinning the wheels with his index finger. “You went through Schism’s doors because you had always planned to save me. Nana nor Silas stopped you, even though they probably knew what you were going to do. Didn’t you find that a little odd?”
Tick. Tick. Tick. The familiar tick tock clicked through the evening air around us.
My eyes widened. “But how did you know that?”
Lyle glanced up at me over his spectacles. “Because it was my plan.” Romen cleared his throat as he retreated to his place by the fire. “With some help from Romen.”
“Wait,” I said, trying to process. “I still don’t understand.”
I bit my lip, remembering the red book and Lyle’s blue sweater. How they had both appeared out of nowhere. Could Lyle really have started this whole journey?
“Time is ticking, Lyle,” Romen said, sternly. “You need to go.”
“Sorry, Addie, I have to do this now,” Lyle explained, the clavum in his palm brightening. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’m with you through every Choice.”
A bright flash erupted from the clavum, sucking Lyle and the red text through it.
CHAPTER 19
SILAS
Black fog lifted to the sky as a deathly screech filled the air. Silas covered his ears, praying his hunch that this was his future wasn’t true. Siti, phagos, and other strange creatures occupied a large plain. If foliage had ever grown there, it was long gone, trampled beneath the monsters that stampeded over it.
Riding atop the siti-phagos hybrids sat warriors with golden eyes. Other warriors bore various-sized mallets on their belts.
“The fallen menders and weavers,” Silas breathed, remembering Asenav’s story of the Beginning Battle. Ophidian had to have granted them long life for them to still be alive.
These people were vastly different from Eman. Their skin was darkened to gray with no color flowing through their veins. Their limbs were deathly thin, pronouncing their sunken eyes.
Behind them hovered the malum, eerily gliding along the plain, their red eyes pointed at an unseen enemy.
A chill ran down Silas’s spine as the army multiplied into thousands, the lines continuing their march forward. Ophidian’s army. Every evil creature was accounted for, save the Beast himself.
Silas ran his palms down his slacks, nausea churning his stomach. This had to be the future waiting for him if he succeeded through his tests.
“Where is that wretched woman?” Silas instantly recognized Schism’s baritone voice.
He tensed and pulled the orange cloak tighter, hoping he was invisible like he had been in the other scrolls.
Ophidian’s second-in-command paraded among the crowd of creatures, donning his true monstrous appearance, claws, wings, and all. The ranks halted at the sight of their commander.
“Well?” Schism roared, flapping his decrepit wings.
“To whom are you referring, my lord?” a man with hollow, golden eyes, riding atop a siti-phagos hybrid asked.
“That ghostly woman,” Schism said, eyeing the man like a meal. “The one who is in charge of this realm.”
“It seems Mistress Umbra has been captured.” Dacenda’s voice slid through the crowd.
All eyes turned to the woman with beautiful golden hair. Her curves were wrapped in tight, black armor, creating a striking contrast to the shimmering waves intricately braided along her head.
Silas growled, detesting Dacenda more and more with each step she took.
“That hag has no power to stop anyone, does she?” Dacenda studied her pointed nails.
Schism shot her a dark look. “It seems you don’t either, considering the Rexus is still not with us.”
“That’s not my fault,” Dacenda snarled, her face shifting briefly into a monster’s. Silas jerked back, but when he focused on her again, Dacenda looked the same as always. “In order for my lord’s plan to work, that idiot has to come of his own choice. I’ve done all I can to make him, but he won’t budge.”
Silas gave a satisfied nod, feeling a sense of accomplishment. At least he had done one thing right.
“Maybe you’re not as appealing as you think,” Schism suggested as he strode to where the malum hovered.
Dacenda was on him in a flash, curling her hand around his thick neck. Her sharp nails sunk into his flesh. “Or maybe you’re trying to hide your true desire for me.”
Without hesitation, Schism lifted her off him, and flung her into the crowd, squashing a group of siti. Dacenda yanked on a nearby siti to stand, stumbling as she found her footing.
“You are not what I seek,” Schism called over his shoulder. “That’s why you will never take my place.” He turned and addressed one of the malum. “Where is Mistress Umbra?”
Silence ensued, but by the concentrated look on Schism’s face, he had to be communicating with the malum telepathically.
“Well,” he huffed after a moment. “We better retrieve her or find a different way to cross over. Without the Elder, we’re stuck in her realm.”
Silas studied the realm Schism was referring to. It was gray and miserable. Black fog swirled all around, making the area more dismal. Out of all of the realms he recalled, he assumed this was the Shadow realm and Mistress Umbra must be the Elder of it.
A new thought emerged in Silas’s mind, one that brought dread with it. This army of dark creatures and monsters were trying to leave the Shadow realm. And there was only one guess where they wanted to go.
“My lord, Fracious,” a small, gray creature with a big nose and beady eyes said as it raced through the crowd. “We have found passage to the Twelve Lands!”
Schism’s grin grew wide, revealing his black pointed teeth. “Excellent.”
“But—”
“But?” he growled, and the creature shuddered, hesitating before speaking again.
“But there is a powerful wizard standing guard.”
“What?” Schism roared before grasping the creature in his clawed hand and taking flight. “Show me!”
The image soared forward, the countless numbers of dark figures made Silas’s skin crawl. How would he ever gain enough forces to defeat an army this large?
A glowing white door stood in the center of the shadowed Land, its purity unnatural against the darkened backdrop.
“I don’t see anyone.” Schism squeezed the small creature, causing its beady eyes to bulge out of its skull.
Silas studied the door. No one was there.
With a roar, Schism threw the small creature at the door. Before it even touched the glowing planks, a powerful force thrust it back, slamming it into a malum.
Intrigued, Schism transformed into the human vendor Silas recognized from Barracks. With grace, Schism sauntered to the door. He reached out, as if to politely knock. As before, a powerful force threw him on his back. Growling, Schism stood quickly.
“The Rexus has not yet returned, nor has Eman; therefore, your time has not come,” a voice bellowed from the doorway.
Silas’s ears twitched at the familiar twang. It wasn’t like Romen’s or Eman’s, but it sounded like Lyle’s. Silas shook his head. How could Lyle be on the other side of that door? He was still in Ramni.
Silas watched with amusement as Schism continuously sent more creatures toward the door. Yet none could breach its barrier. After a few more rounds of flying siti, the scene before Silas shifted into another large plain, but this time, Ophidian’s army wasn’t the only one on the battlefield.
Streams of white light crashed into the army. The heartmenders and timeweavers Silas revived joined the battlefield in a fury. He grimaced. Though there were many, they were nothing compared to the enemy’s numbers.
Romen sat among them, riding a horse that looked like it was from one of Addie’s fairytale books. Instead of fur and flesh, the horse was made of leaves, its mane and tail comprised of vines.
Silas’s gaze landed on the rider adjacent to Romen and his jaw dropped. Sitting upon a birch-woven horse sat Addie. Her dark curls twisted back from her face, revealing her striking blue eyes. He swallowed hard, stunned at her fierce beauty, and how she wielded her glowing alme.
Next to Addie was another warrior that made Silas do a double-take. Gone was the researching book hoarder, and in his place was a strong warrior wielding not one weapon, but two: a sword and a weapon that looked just like James’s axe. But why was Lyle fighting? He didn’t have his heart. And why did he have James’s axe?
Silas watched the gruesome battle unfold in front of him. Addie led the charge of the front line, her face ferocious and without fear. Silas stood amazed as the menders and weavers emitted their supernatural power against Ophidian’s army. But, though they were strong, their numbers were far less than the darkness, and soon they were overrun.
Silas lost Addie in the battle and panicked. With his orange cloak billowing behind him, he wove through the bloodbath, trying to find his warrior.
The menders and weavers he resurrected began to fall, each emitting a terrorizing scream. Silas reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there. How could he help?
At the thought, the scene focused on a sight that made Silas scream. Ophidian towered in his beast form, more powerful and stronger than Silas had ever seen him. In his hand, he clutched a shining bright heart, and a limp body lay at his feet.
“Addie!” Silas cried, terror rising in his chest as he raced to reach her. Yet, the more he ran, the further the motionless body drifted away from him before disintegrating into a pile of ash.
“Addie!” he shouted again.
Dacenda strutted through the ash, kicking it away with her shined boots. Without pause, Ophidian took Addie’s beautiful, pure heart and plunged it into the chest of the woman who had haunted Silas’s memories.
“No!” Silas yelled.
He fell to his knees, screaming to the Heavens.
The scene dimmed, fading into nothing as Dacenda morphed into a hideous, fanged beast.
CHAPTER 20
ADDIE
As the morning sun broke through the night, an ashy scent billowed around me. Scrunching my nose, I sat up and rubbed my eyes before hearing Lyle’s rumbling snores. When he had returned last night and gave the clavum back to Romen, I tried not to question him, but I couldn’t help myself. However, each time I asked, his answer was always the same: “You already know, Addie.” Eventually, I gave up and fell asleep.
After a full night’s rest, I started piecing together that Lyle must have helped me with my journey through Ophidian’s Realm. Somehow.
Lyle snorted and rolled over, murmuring something about an erica and a leaf. It was then that I saw a dark cloud forming over the Land of Dulgaa.
The sleep fully drained from my eyes and I stood, squinting to get a better look. “What is that?”
Romen popped up from his curled position, hand on hilt, battle ready.
“What’s going on?” Lyle said, placing his spectacles on his nose before stretching his long limbs. After scratching his neck, he shuffled toward us.
The cloud grew larger, pulsating with crimson light. Suddenly, spouts of fire rained from the cloud, engrossing the Land below in voluminous flame.
“We need to help!” I shouted, gathering my things in the satchel.
“Wait, Addie,” Lyle said, grabbing my wrists. “We don’t know what’s going on. How can we help if we don’t know anything?”
I paused, considering his words.
“It doesn’t look like we need to rush in just yet,” Romen commented, gazing out at the fiery landscape.
A woman clothed in bright purple appeared from the ground. She stood as a statue before battling the fire cloud. A wave of white power exuded from a whip as she snapped it toward a nearby stream, pulling up a large wave of water. Steam hissed from the charred ground, extinguishing a section of fire.
Once the steam and smoke lifted, the woman continued to battle the flames alone. In time, the dark cloud receded, sucking the torrents of flame back into its dark plumes.
“Oh no,” I whispered. The ground held nothing but ash.
The woman stood in the middle of the charred ground, then collapsed.
Not waiting to hear any more opinions, I snatched my satchel and alme and raced down the hill. Heat from the scorched ground radiated up my legs as my boots sunk into the cinders of Dulgaa. With sweat dripping down my neck, I hurried toward the motionless woman. Those flames were at least ten feet high. I knew she had to have been severely burned.
“Are you okay?” I shouted, running toward her.
The rush of Lyle’s and Romen’s footsteps bounded on the blackened earth behind me. There was no response from the woman.
Carefully, I flipped the woman’s limp form over. A halo of bright-red hair sprawled out in sharp juxtaposition to the blackened soot. It was finer than silk, perfectly framing her jawline.
I leaned over and examined her hands and face. Angry red burns covered her freckled cheeks.
Lyle let out a low whistle as he and Romen crouched beside me. “That looks bad.”
“I wish Claire were here,” I said. “She always knew how to treat stuff like this.”
“Luckily, she somehow knew we would need her,” Lyle said, his eyes bright as he grabbed my satchel. He found the orange bottle of green liquid and handed it to me. “Here.”
As my fingers clutched the small bottle, I remembered all the times the green salve had saved me. After saying a quick prayer for Claire, I opened the bottle. The thick salve cooled my palm as I poured it into my hand and rubbed it on the woman’s wounds. The ointment thickened, creating a plaster over the burns.
Lyle leaned forward, studying the medicine. “Amazing.”
We crouched next to the woman until a soft groan came from her small lips.
Her eyes shot open. “Who are you? What are you doing? What happened to the fire?” She bolted up, twisting her head around in panic.
“You put out the fire,” I answered, and her violet eyes focused on me. The sparkling yellow leaves embroidered on her robe didn’t escape my notice. “Are you the Magister of Dulgaa?”
The woman furrowed her delicate brows before she placed a hand on her forehead. “Yes. What’s left of Dulgaa, anyway. I’m Alesig Demure.” She started to stand, but the salve on her knee hadn’t finished healing. The Magister folded forward and, thankfully, Romen caught her.
“Careful,” he said, holding her in his arms.
Shaking, she grasped his thick arm before glancing up at him. Eyes wide, she whipped her gaze back to me, then Lyle. Her lips formed a small circle. “A timeweaver, the Bellata, and the Magister of Barracks.” She studied Lyle again. “Not just a Magister, but the Elder of Ramni, too.” Pursing her lips, she focused on me. “Dulgaa is a barren wasteland since the ustrina came. I am the only one left. My people are dead.”
“What?” I asked.
“You heard me,” the Magister said again, exhaustion rippling from her words. “The ustrina, the fire cloud, burns whatever’s in its path. The people of Dulgaa were not strong enough to face it.” She cast her gaze down, curling her hands into fists. “Regrettably, they have all perished.”
I flinched at her words, hoping I had heard them wrong. But when I saw tears tumbling down her cheeks, my shoulders sagged. We were too late. Ophidian had already destroyed Dulgaa and slaughtered its people. There was no one left to save.
“I understand you’re traveling to gather the Twelve and their Lands to defeat the demon snake,” Magister Alesig said, wiping the tears from her cheeks before testing out her knee.
The plaster melted from her leg, and she grabbed her whip before standing. With a snap, it wrapped around her waist like a belt. Instead of leather, the whip was made entirely of metal pieces hinged together.
Alesig gave a small smile of amusement at our astonished faces and patted the whip before she continued. “I’m not sure you can save my Land, but I will help you, whenever that day comes.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m exhausted, and I would like to rest before another ustrina appears.” Without another word, she shuffled away.
We watched her until Romen spoke. “What do you think, Addie?”
My heart grieved for the lives lost in this Land. Maybe if we had changed course, or come here first, we could have saved them. I smacked my alme on the ground, frustrated. Maybe if the Elders hadn’t kept us so long, we would’ve gotten here sooner.
I placed my hand on my satchel. Why hadn’t Eman sent me this way first? He had to have known the state of Dulgaa when he sent me on this journey.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I made my decision. “No Land is too lost from being saved, and I will not form an iuram until I have fulfilled my oath and removed the evil from this Land.” Standing, I followed the purple robe fading into the distance.
“But Addie,” Lyle said, quickly catching up. “How are you going to take on a cloud of fire?”
Smoothing the wrinkles on my blue tunic, I replied, “I don’t know.”
As I placed my hand in the satchel, I drummed my fingers along the spine of Eman’s book. I wished now more than ever Eman was alive. Or that his book would talk to me. I would even welcome a cryptic message rather than silence.
