Heartrender, page 16
“You’ll find a way,” Romen assured me, flanking my other side. “You’ve made it this far.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Romen.”
He nodded. “I think it’s the right decision to aid Alesig. She hasn’t welcomed help in the past, but maybe things are changing.”
We followed Alesig until she stopped at a small patch of green grass. Surrounding it was nothing but burnt ground. As she pulled at her whip, the weapon unraveled from her waist. With a quick snap, Alesig slapped it on the ground, causing the green patch to levitate. She offered us a grim smile.
“Underground is the only safe place.”
After motioning us to follow, she lowered herself into the hole.
Tightening my grip on the rod, I followed her with Lyle and Romen. Once we had all entered, the grass lowered itself back into place, snuffing out the light.
A small, white flame burst from Alesig’s palm. We were inside a tunnel filled with alcoves and ledges carved into the red clay walls. Intricate vases, pots, and bowls perched on each ledge, unique in their own design. Some were tall and thin, etched with flowers and swirls. Others were wide, bearing harsh slashes in their clay.
As I took a step closer, something crunched beneath my boot. I peered down to see thousands of pieces of shattered clay coating the dirt.
“The vases are my people,” Alesig explained as she placed the light on her palm in a lantern. “When the ustrina first attacked, it set my people aflame. Over and over it came, hunting for them, until not even their bones were left. I tried to hold a vale for each life, but as I did, I realized the ustrina would appear just outside our shelter, hungrily watching. That was when I realized it was harvesting their souls before they could pass on in peace. I long to allow my people to pass on and be united with Necto. But with the ustrina on the hunt, there is no escape to the golden haven.” Alesig shook her head, her red hair slapping her cheeks. “That’s why I fight. Though my people have no bodies to return to, I will not allow their souls to be used for the demon snake’s evil.”
“What about the broken ones?” I whispered, crouching down to gently caress a shattered shard.
Alesig’s eyes grew heavy as she picked up a small blue vase with swirling waves carved into it. “Those are the people I failed to save.”
My throat thickened with sorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Alesig,” I said. “They are all beautifully made.”
“Yes, they are.” She placed the vase back down. “Each one was carved specifically by someone who dwelled in Dulgaa. As a child, we are taught how to mold and shape the clay of our Land. Once you master the basic steps, you are called to make your own ollam. It is a rite of passage for us to unite ourselves with Necto.”
“Let us help you,” I offered. “Please.”
Clearing her throat, the Magister shook her head. “There is no need. Rest while you can. I will make an iuram with you in the morning. My power is too weak to make one now.” The Magister turned and stalked further into the tunnel.
“I can’t believe Ophidian is still burdening this Land,” Lyle said after Alesig was out of hearing range. He placed a hand where his heart was. “I feel a deep sorrow for all these people.”
I squeezed my satchel strap, anger flooding my veins. Ophidian had reduced this once thriving Land to nothing but ash. I couldn’t allow him to get away with it.
“We need to do something,” I said. “We have to help Alesig protect her people’s souls. They’re all that’s left of Dulgaa.”
A deep rumbling sounded throughout the tunnel, identical to the roar of a beast. I ignited my alme in orange light, while Romen and Lyle reached for their weapons.
“The ustrina has returned,” Alesig said, appearing from the darkness. Her violet eyes were slightly red, and tearstains left trails down her muddied cheeks. “I must go.” She headed toward the entrance.
“Wait, Alesig.” I reached out to her. “Please. Let us help.”
“These are my people,” Alesig replied firmly. “I will protect them.” She waved her hand, allowing the dirt to elevate once more. Grasping her whip in one hand, she struck it through the hole until the tension tightened. “I will be back.” With a tug, she was gone.
I blinked twice before my senses came through. “Romen, give me a boost.”
Romen laced his finger for my foot to go on. “We’ll be right behind you.” He thrust his hands upward, and I flew through the hole, landing face-first on the charcoal ground.
Grunting, I stood, brushing the dead soil from my arms and legs before a fierce heat slammed into me. I held up my arms, shielding my face. My skin felt like it was on fire. A high-pitched scream resonated through the wave of heat, and my stomach lurched.
“Alesig!” I screamed.
Smoke escaped from the dead Land, filling the sky with equivalent darkness. It forced its way into my lungs and I coughed until my sides ached. Risking a glance, I gazed up, horror and fear restraining my muscles. Composed of writhing flames, a fiery dragon roared toward the Heavens, shooting out tendrils of fire. One tendril wrapped around Alesig’s small body before launching her through the air. With a sickening crunch, her body slammed into the ground, motionless.
CHAPTER 21
SILAS
“Addie!” Silas screamed as the future battle scene faded. “No! That can’t happen!” He slammed his fists against the cold ground.
“It’s not absolute,” a masculine voice answered. “But it’s not impossible, either.” A man bearing a flaming torch appeared beside Silas.
Silas glared at the man, tears streaming down his face. “Who are you?”
The man with sandy blond hair gazed at Silas, his look threatening violence. He held the torch out, illuminating his obsidian hand. Just like Schism’s.
“Your next teacher. Let’s go.” The man stalked into the shadowed abyss, taking the light with him.
Standing, Silas wiped the tears away and followed the man, his orange cloak glowing as bright as the torch. He couldn’t be a Magister, could he?
They walked in silence until the man stopped before a white door. He faced Silas with the same hard glare. “You’ve regained the memories from your sacrifice. But with that also came a possible future, a gift not many receive from Necto.”
Silas swallowed. The image of Addie’s lifeless body was forever burned into his mind. “Can I stop it?”
The man’s taupe-colored eyes gleamed with interest. “Would you?”
“Yes, of course.”
He studied Silas thoughtfully before knocking once on the door. “I’m glad to hear you say that, because she’s my daughter.”
Silas’s jaw dropped as he gawked at the man. His defiant stare, the amused smirk playing on his lips. There was no doubt this man was Addie’s father.
“Close your mouth, son,” he said, holding in a laugh. He placed his dark hand on the white wood. “We have work to do.”
Golden light surrounded the door, causing the wood to disappear, slat by slat, until a dark forest stood on the other side. The man marched through the entrance, not waiting to see if Silas followed. Was this man really Addie’s father? Where had he been all this time?
Silas eyed the stone arms before taking a breath and following. He kept a wide berth between himself and Addie’s father, just in case this was a trick. After a few moments, Silas found a small ounce of courage.
“I didn’t know Addie’s father was still alive, or a Magister.”
The man snorted, rustling the flames on the torch. “Call me Amos. Unfortunately, I had to hide a lot of things from my children. But I knew we would be reunited one day.” He glanced over his shoulder. “As for a Magister, I’m not one.”
Silas inspected Amos’s arms again before the man continued.
“I used to be, but I gave that up so I could assist Eman in a different way.” Amos took the torch and held it against the bark of the tree closest to them. “If you must know who I am, think of me as your placeholder. With your father’s death, there was an empty seat for the Elder of Lignum. Eman charged me to save and protect it for you.”
Immediately, a spiral of flames erupted around the trunk. Jumping back, Silas shielded himself with his arms. Flames danced around the tree, but it didn’t burn. The spirals twisted to the other trees until flames lit every corner of the shadowed room.
Silas lowered his arms. The lit trees stood tall, lining a grand hall. A narrow trench followed each side, leading up to two enormous silver trees that flanked two golden thrones. Were they in a castle?
“Your father and mother, your grandparents, and those before sat on those thrones and ruled Lignum justly,” Amos explained as he placed the torch in a holder at the base of a tree. He glanced back at Silas. “You’ve passed four tests already, but this one is not like the others.”
Amos strode toward the thrones, beckoning Silas to follow. As they walked closer, Silas noticed how the branches of the silver trees were bare.
“The argenti are the lifeblood of Lignum. Their leaves breathe life into this kingdom and the villages surrounding it.” Amos motioned to the two silver trees. “Though there are many throughout Lignum, these two are the most powerful.” He pointed to the argenti on the left. “One is cared for by the Rexus, or king of Lignum.” He pointed to the other. “The other is cared for by his queen.”
Silas stiffened at the blazing scowl Amos shot his way after the statement.
“As you can see,” Amos continued, “the two most powerful argenti of Lignum have no leaves or fruit on them.”
“Are they dead?” Silas asked.
“No, but they have been dormant for a long time.”
Silas studied the sparkling trees, unsure of what he was meant to do.
“This next test isn’t one of strength or faith, but of humility and endurance,” Amos explained, placing a hand on one of the argenti. “I have protected this kingdom for many years, freezing it so that it would be ready for your return. That time has come.” With a snap of his fingers, a harsh breeze bellowed through the throne room. Color and warmth followed, painting the foliage adorning the walls in a bright emerald.
Silas whipped his head around, watching the grand room come to life. Various flowers and bushes sprouted from the ground as the trenches lining the room filled with translucent, crystal water. The waves rushed toward the two trees with excitement, but when the water reached their trunks, nothing happened. Silas frowned and Amos chuckled.
“Good luck, my king,” he said, placing a hand across his chest and bowing before he disappeared.
Silas stared at the thrones. What was he supposed to do in this test?
Confused, he headed toward the two argenti. They were unique before, but now they were magnificent. The light pouring from above sparkled against their silver bark, allowing specks of light to reflect across the throne room. Silas continued to study the trees when a sick feeling came to his stomach.
The sparkle of the argenti dimmed into a dismal gray as the bark peeled off on its own. Pieces flaked down to the ground, one by one, until nothing but the charred inner bark was left.
“No,” Silas whispered. Just as his fingers grazed the inner bark, the argenti of the Rexus disintegrated into ash.
Pain coiled around Silas’s spine. Fisting his hands in his hair, Silas fell to his knees, screaming. After a moment, the pain receded, and he glanced up at the pile of ash. Frustration barreled through his veins.
Turning to the queen’s argenti, Silas found that it was still intact. Why hadn’t it disappeared as well?
“Master Silas?” a squeaky voice asked.
Peering over his shoulder, Silas recognized the erica in the red vest from his memories as a child. The erica scurried forward, his small, pink nose sniffing wildly as his beady eyes grew wide.
“Shile?” Silas asked, the name foreign on his lips, but the memories confirmed it.
“It is you!” The erica flew through the air into Silas’s lap, burrowing against his stomach. “Master Silas, I can’t believe you’ve finally come home!”
Silas cupped the little creature in his hands, careful to mind his spines. The erica gently nuzzled Silas’s cheek.
“It has been a while, hasn’t it, my old friend?”
Small tears formed in the little erica’s eyes before he curled into a trembling ball.
“Hey,” Silas said, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Shile uncurled with a sniff. “It’s just been so long. We all ran when that monster came. It wasn’t until recently, a doorway opened for us to return here. Some of the Elders were kind, but nothing like the people of Lignum.”
“I’m sorry you had to endure so much,” Silas said, patting his small friend’s head with his finger.
“It’s okay,” Shile said, unrolling to a standing position. “We ericas are tough, able to withstand the harshest of circumstances.” The erica puffed out its chest and Silas chuckled.
“The smallest creatures seem to be the strongest ones,” Silas commented before an idea came to his mind. “Shile, what do you know about the argenti?”
The erica sprung from Silas’s hands, darting to where the one argenti stood. He then hurried to the ash pile and let out a surprised squeak. “There’s only one!”
Silas stood and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I didn’t mean to destroy the other one.” Shile squeaked again and Silas lifted his hands in surrender. “It was an accident.”
The erica sniffed where the pile of disintegrated bark lay. “I see.” He hurried to the other side of the pile. “Yes.”
“What?” Silas asked, anxious for the small creature’s assessment.
“Yes,” Shile said again. “You destroyed it.”
Silas groaned and placed his hands on his head as he stalked away from the golden throne. Had he come all this way to fail?
“Ah, here it is!” the erica said, causing Silas to spin on his heels.
“What?”
The erica scurried back toward Silas with a smile as he held up a small, silver seed. “Here you go!”
Silas took the seed in his hand and glanced back at Shile. “So ... I need to regrow the argenti?”
Shile squeaked again, causing Silas to jerk back. “No, no! One cannot just grow an argenti like it was any other tree!” The erica scoffed in protest.
Silas suppressed a growl. “Then what am I supposed to do with this?”
He held out his palm where the seed lay. It was heavier than it looked, weighing down the center of his hand. The seed glinted in the light above as Silas rolled it back and forth.
Shile huffed. “Each Rexus has their own argenti. When the Rexus passes on, his argenti does as well. From the dead bark of the previous argenti, a new seed is formed for the next Rexus.” Shile sighed. “Whoever the next Rexus is must grow his argenti on his own, without any assistance.”
Silas frowned. “I’m not sure what to do.”
The erica rushed to Silas’s feet, hugging his right ankle. “Me either, but I’m glad you’re here.”
As Silas patted the small creature on the head again, a door comprised of birch wood appeared before him. He placed the argenti seed in his pocket, and his mind immediately thought of Wintertide and Barracks. Was that where this door led? But why would he be sent back to Barracks?
“If you had the chance to save them, would you?” A glowing figure appeared by the door.
Silas brought his hand up to shield his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at the bright and glorious glow.
Keeping his gaze on Shile’s shuddering form, Silas asked, “Save who?”
The door squeaked inward. Schism’s voice rang out, giving the same speech he had after Addie had dove through his blood-red doors. Silas’s gaze shot up. The people of Barracks. Was he being given a second chance to go back and save them from Schism’s slaughter?
“There is only one chance to save them. Will you be able to follow another’s leadership?”
Before Silas could answer, he was sucked into the door. When he opened his eyes again, Gladio’s still body lay before him. Two hands suddenly gripped his shoulders and threw him against the wall. Damien’s round, green eyes glared at Silas. The lord shoved Silas into the wall again and growled.
Silas stared at Damien, unsure of what to do or say.
This will be a test of humility and endurance, Amos had said. Did that mean he had to listen to Damien in order to save the people of Barracks? Silas ground his teeth as the lord slammed him against the wall a third time.
“Are you listening?” Damien demanded. “What did you do to Gladio?”
Silas’s immediate reaction was to punch the lord in his perfect nose. But Silas swallowed his pride. This was when he ran away. At this moment, he had chosen to save Nana over all the people in Barracks. But he had been given a second chance. Now, he knew what to choose.
“Gladio was like that when I came in here,” Silas answered as calmly as he could.
Damien’s eyes narrowed, searching Silas’s face before throwing Silas to the hay-ridden ground. Silas quickly bounced up but stopped himself from shoving the lord. Damien marched to the back wall and started attaching knives to his belt.
“You’re good with a sword, yes?” he asked Silas over his shoulder.
Before Silas could nod, Damien threw him two different blades. Silas caught them swiftly, recognizing their weight. He had crafted these in the weeks before Addie’s Heart Reign.
“Hey, hero, are you listening?” Damien asked, and Silas resisted stabbing the lord in the arm.
Screams pierced the blacksmith forge, and Silas fought to stay focused on his goal. Another chance to save these people. He had left them defenseless before. He only prayed that he could save them and Nana.
“I apologize,” Silas replied, focusing on his orange cloak instead of the lord.
Damien scoffed as he latched knives onto his belt. “I need your help. Trust me, I don’t want your help. I don’t like you. But you’re all I’ve got.”
