A Curse of Blood and Power: A Chronicle of Fanhalen Page 9

  Mahena focused on her breathing, fighting every cell in her body not to snatch her hands away and blow those damned candles out. Those small snakes encircled her brain and squeezed harder.

  As the filament of pain sought sustenance in her forgetful mind, a scent filled Mahena’s nostrils. She instantly knew it was none of the objects in the room, on the table—ash and moss and darkness. She focused on the scent to ignore the intrusion. A swamp appeared at the back of her mind. A wooden bridge alight with small torches. And that smell pushed her forward. Mahena followed it, fighting against the pain it created. A blurred silhouette stood at the other end of the bridge. The scent intensified. Mahena felt the urge to hurry forward.

  The Valorà abruptly broke the contact.

  The vision dissipated, dragging her horrified cry in her mind.

  Mahena’s chest fell towards the table, her strength failing her. Two strong hands pulled her back up. She gulped down air, breathing heavily.

  ‘There is a block on your mind,’ Sheya explained abruptly.

  Mahena sighed at the release of her body from the strange and painful presence. She blinked at the woman across from her. ‘Care to elaborate?’ she whispered, her voice ragged from screaming.

  Behind her, Emmerentia pushed herself off the wall she was leaning against and walked around the table, a flame dancing in her eyes.

  Sheya quickly put the powders back in the vials and stood up. Turning to the twin, ‘A word,’ she said flatly, pointing to the door, ‘and then you’re out of my sight.’

  Distracted as she had been by the pain, Mahena had failed to notice her necklace had warmed against her skin.

  12

  The knot in Emmerentia’s stomach felt as though her intestines had been pulled out, tightened together with thorns and placed back inside. She was not sentimental, but seeing the Valorà blasted a hole in her still-wounded heart. Silent grief suffused the house, gilding the walls and imbuing the modest place with an almost palpable scent of misery.

  It wasn’t your fault, the rational part of her brain hammered. The jealousy of the prince over Emmerentia’s fame and victory was not of her making, and instead of killing her, he had decided to—

  She could not bring herself to go through with that thought.

  She had exerted her revenge.

  Blood for blood. A life for a life.

  But where she thought the taste of his blood would stifle the pain, it only fanned the flame, fueled her rage and powerlessness—Fàaran had had to restrain her, or she would have burned Meria to the ground.

  Emmerentia knew the young woman would hold her responsible for the death of her brother. After all, he was Emmerentia’s partner. She should have been with him the day of the attack, should have been there to defend him from the Prince, should have known better. Gods, she could barely look her in the eyes. Seeing his face in Sheya’s haunted gaze only reminded her of his absence. She shook her head, determined to rid herself of the thoughts forming at the back of her head, sealing them in a corner of her mind.

  Mahena had barely questioned them dragging her with them. In fact, she had seemed more than willing. Deep down, Emmerentia knew she was no threat, knew her bravado came from a place of self preservation. She had done the same at the beginning of her training, of her duels.

  The twin watched as Sheya spread herbs and powders on her kitchen table, surprised at the quantity still remaining on her shelves. Emmerentia never learned more than basic battle healing, and had no idea how the loss of magic had affected the properties of the ingredients. Never wanted to know.

  Sheya and Mahena sat at the small table, facing each other. The Valorà started whispering into the air, and the atmosphere completely shifted. Emmerentia leaned back against the only wall not covered with shelves, willing her features into a mask of calm, hiding the shiver crawling up her spine.

  But then Mahena screamed, and Emmerentia found herself stepping forward, her heart racing. Then the scream stopped, and the veil of sudden fear vanished. Mahena’s body fell forward and she was moving before she realised her feet had moved, but her brother was already there.

  Emmerentia stared at the young woman panting in her brother’s arms. She forced her hands to her side, forced her shoulders to roll back. That scream lodged itself in a corner of her being she didn’t remember existed.

  Sheya stood up hastily. ‘A word. And then you’re out of my sight.’

  Emmerentia followed the Valorà behind the cottage and they stopped underneath a cherry tree. The sweet scent hit her as Sheya whirled to face her, an ancient hatred in her eyes. ‘She has very, very strong magic. I can tell you that much. And from the shrewd look on your face, this is not coming as a surprise. It is dormant, but I can feel it. I tried the smoke on a hunch, and her magic reacted to it. She does not realise, either, I think.’ She took a deep breath, seeming to weigh whether she would elaborate. ‘This is not my area of practice, but it is powerful dark magic. Memories can be erased, but they can also be blocked, to be wielded and used later for some other purpose.’

  Sheya’s voice vacillated between anger and longing as she spoke. Looking deep into her eyes, Emmerentia saw the craving for practice overtake her resentment. Not only had she lost her brother, but also the heart of her being. Sheya’s connection with nature breathed air into her lungs; it brought her to life in a way that was not possible without magic. But the healer in her kind heart overtook the burning rage. The knot of guilt in Emmerentia’s stomach tightened.

  Sheya continued, ‘Erasing a person’s memory requires power, yet it is a one-time spell. A block needs to be maintained and it requires an anchor, a seal that has to be kept alive. The being capable of performing and maintaining such a spell… I can’t even begin to fathom.’

  The twin forced her body to remain still, to stop the damned thunder resonating through her chest. Her fists curled at her sides. Even with magic gone, it had still managed to worm its way into her life.

  Sheya narrowed her eyes. ‘Who is she to you, anyway? Why are you going to these lengths?’

  Emmerentia pressed a fist to her temple. ‘I... I feel drawn to her. Where we found her was off the path, and I felt pulled in that direction before even seeing her, for no reason. It’s only increased since.’ She dropped her hand back to her side. ‘Just now, when she screamed… Something inside of me reacted.’

  Sheya waved a hand at her. ‘Move away from the tree, there.’ She sniffed at the air around where Emmerentia had just stood.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Whoever she pissed off wanted her erased from memory, not only her memory, but anyone who ever knew her.’ Sheya sniffed again, as if confirming something, then added, ‘That spell, the reggya powder, revealed a scent around it. You have that scent on you, too.’

  Emmerentia frowned, ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means you knew each other before the spell was cast. You say she does not remember her identity? Someone wants her forgotten, vulnerable, pliant. Why would she still be alive otherwise? Why not simply kill her? And you, for that matter.’

  Emmerentia snorted. ‘She is anything but vulnerable, at least not consciously. She put me on my ass twice in a minute.’

  ‘Yet you are still drawing breath, unfortunately.’

  Emmerentia’s heart twinged at the harsh words. ‘Can you trace the spell back somehow?’

  ‘No. Not with magic gone. And I would not waste my last imbued herbs on you more than I already have. But I will tell you one thing. The person behind this will shred you to pieces with one thought. Stay with this girl and you will probably end up dead. Perhaps then, I might finally have peace.’

  The words pounded into Emmerentia with the force of a tidal wave, but she kept the wall up with the last bit of will she could muster.

  ‘Where can we find answers?’ Although she already knew where it would lead them.


  The Valorà confirmed, ‘The Library of Vassalis.’

  The capital of Valàander, the first kingdom to have fallen to the clutches of the Shadows.

  ‘The castle still stands and is protected. If they let you in and trust you enough to grant you access to the library, that is.’ Sheya gave Emmerentia a look she had never before witnessed in the woman’s eyes, a dark cold so profound it froze her veins for an instant. ‘And why would they do that? Now get out, and never set foot on this property again, or it will be the last thing you do.’ She turned away, her face contorted with disgust.

  ‘I miss him too...’ Emmerentia whispered, from despair and compassion. She never allowed herself to voice how much pain remained in her heart, how his absence affected her every day. A reaction, that’s all she wanted from Sheya. A punch, a slap, anything but that revulsion and loathing.

  Sheya stopped, her foot halting in midstep. Her hands contracted into fists, her head slightly inclining as if she were biting her lip from restraint. She had been a woman of kindness, of love and selflessness, not a drop of aggressiveness running through her veins. It broke Emmerentia’s heart to see what the death of her brother had turned her into.

  Sheya simply resumed walking.

  Emmerentia watched her former friend disappear inside her cottage, the door closing behind her, as if closing that chapter of the twin’s life forever. The choice was made for her, and she could only grant her the respect of accepting it. She didn’t remember the last time the salty and warm sensation of a tear had tickled her skin.

  B

  Mahena laid down in the grass and crossed her hands behind her head, patiently waiting as she stared upwards at the white and blue sky. She had escaped the kitchen as soon as the girls had left, as soon as her head had stopped shrieking and spinning. Faràan had slipped away at the same moment and she wondered whether he would return.

  Gods above, she had pleaded over and over to get out of the twenty-first century and its boring society. Had dreamed and cried and despaired before the many movies and tv shows portraying stories from old times, where warriors were prepared from the cradle, where magic roamed free, where technology had not destroyed nature so thoroughly. Where humans required true skill to remain alive. She cared little for a long, peaceful, boring life. She had no qualms dying younger if it meant her life would be filled with thrill and adventure.

  Yet, shouldn’t she be filled with terror, still?

  She had been here before. Her mind should logically be swirling with a zillion questions, with fear. But…

  Mahena stared at an eagle-shaped cloud in the otherwise clear sky. That creeping feeling… The Valorà had tried to penetrate her brain, to take down the constricted wires that seemed to circle it. She had felt the attempts of those little snakes, their razor-sharp teeth biting at the immoveable protection. She had kept her words to the witch—she liked that term better—brief. She trusted Emmerentia, however that inner voice quietly laughed at doing the same with anyone else. And still, the spell or whatever it had been, had cracked open a door inside her memories.

  A block on her mind. How ridiculous. What was a block on her mind even supposed to be? The scent had felt so familiar and so foreign, like the vague and contorted memories she harboured of her childhood. And the figure at the end of the bridge… All she would bet on was that it was the shape of a woman. A woman who was calling out to her. And that thought cracked something open within her.

  Mahena exhaled heavily as the eagle cloud moved along, willing her thoughts to slow down, to shut up. Why should she keep thinking in circles, trying to make sense of a situation she obviously had so little control over. If she continued to attempt to tame the maelstrom of questions, to process the maze that was her brain, she feared she would simply implode.

  Her eyes fell on the porch of the house, locking onto the small plaque with the word Vallegian on it. She squinted, the word oddly familiar. Mahena shook her head when she couldn’t remember. The twins had brought her here for further questioning, when it was clear the history between them and Sheya was taunt at best. Emmerentia had made it clear she hated magic, so why would she seek the help of someone who could wield it?

  A shadow fell across her face and blotted out the sky as the thought hit her. She tilted her head back to see who it was. Emmerentia’s voice cut the lovely silence. ‘You can linger in the grass somewhere else, we’re leaving.’

  Mahena rolled her eyes at the tone. So, she was pissed, but they might not be tossing her out quite yet. Getting to her feet in a swift motion, she followed Emmerentia’s hurried steps to the horses. ‘What about your brother?’

  ‘He’ll meet us at the next inn.’

  B

  It only took Fàaran a sharp tug on the twin bond to inform his sister of his departure.

  He needed to clear his mind away from his sister and her seemingly growing project. This was going too far already for it to be mere coincidences. Whoever she was mattered little at this point, but Emmerentia’s unconscious reactions suggested the bond enough.

  She would go through with it.

  What sort of twisted turn of fate was this?

  Conveniently, he was to meet one of his informants. He would get the information he required, and then they would make a decision on how to proceed.

  Fàaran whistled two sharp notes and Fàrak flew ahead.

  13

  Kingdom of Amestris, The Sun Tower Prison.

  On the other side of the continent, in a secluded tower encircled by sunflowers, the sun blazed its warmth against the reflective exterior. The Sun Tower, called such by its engineer, was built to capture the energy of the Lord of the Light to use for other purposes. Over time, it had also become a prison, a jail that stripped creatures dwelling in the dark of their special properties. As yet another day rose and the sun hit its zenith, a growl resonated through the thick walls and the unbreakable glass windows of one of its numerous cells.

  The impact of the young woman’s fist embedding itself in the wall resonated throughout the Sun Tower. Her black hair fell limply into her mossy eyes. She didn’t bother brushing it aside before she smashed into the structure again. Slowly, the wall, now stained with her black blood, began to crack under her fists. She welcomed every blow with a smile, the pain reverberating within her body a pleasure. They thought her delusional. Only a pathetic, weak nation could know their enemy so little.

  She was the evil they all feared, all trembled before. How dare they believe this pathetic trick would bend her? She would make them suffer. Every one of them. Bring such pain they would wish they’d never been born. Hunt them down like the playthings they were and tear them apart, bit by bit, until they begged her to terminate their pathetic lives. And when that moment came, she’d unleash herself completely. She’d make them forget their names, their purpose, their universe. Make their minds snap and collapse, restructure their memories to her liking until they became broken pets addicted to the unbearable pain she offered.

  The door to her cell slammed open. ‘What do we have here?’

  Her pale fist coloured the wall with more blood. Approaching steps echoed behind her. Filthy fairy male.

  ‘Kaleb, do not approach the prisoner. She is not to be touched.’ There was fear in that one’s voice. Wise.

  Another step toward her. Then a sneer. ‘That much energy left in a prisoner on our patrol is an insult.’ The sensation of roaming eyes on her back had her baring her teeth. ‘Pretty things like her must be broken on this wing.’

  The young woman’s fist froze mid-air. She cocked her head to the side, then slowly pivoted to face the man’s blind arrogance. A bemused, twisted smile danced on his face as he eyed her shackled feet, eyes raking up her barely covered body and bloodied fists.

  A low, sickening laugh left her lips. In all her wicked existence, in her years of bloodshed and remorseless feeding, this was the
type of man she had enjoyed destroying the most. Pathetic, spineless. She made no distinction in her choice of victims. His kind, on the other hand, only preyed on the weak and wounded.

  The three men surrounding him tensed as she lifted her chin and marked them in turn. She laughed again, then spoke, her voice rasped from disuse, ‘Did you forget to brief your little friend?’

  Kaleb lunged toward her, his pointed ears flicking back from anger. He had her up by the throat in a second. She smiled as his depraved eyes met hers. He whispered against her skin, ‘You and I are going to have a great deal of fun.’

  Her mouth split into a grin above his grip. ‘Have they not told you who I am?’

  She saw the three other guards lose all colouring. Before they had time to warn him, her manacles were around his throat. He wiggled like a worm for his sword, but she only laughed joylessly. The men ran out the door, and she sank her teeth deep in his throat.

  The fairy magic left in his blood pooled inside her mouth like a living thing, filling her poisoned and weakened body. It flowed fast as a fire arrow, breathing an ounce of vitality back into her soul. Yet as she closed her eyes to savour this renewed strength, as her lips remained closed on the worm’s neck, that beating thing in her chest twinged.

  14

  Passage of Orgahd, Kingdom of Mealdan.

  Night fell as Emmerentia halted her mare next to an Inn tucked away from the main road. She briefly mentioned to Mahena that it served as a resting point for hunters, merchants and people who generally required their business to be conducted in privacy. They had decided to stop at The Lair for the night to establish their plan of action. It was near enough to the cottage they could easily turn around if they decided to, and sufficiently distracting for all to conduct business in full discretion. Neither an Inn nor a trading post nor a brothel, but all of these things together. A property lost inside the woods for all who wished to remain unseen. All who wished to drink and eat and gamble and enjoy themselves and rest.