Dragon Aster Trilogy (26 page)

“The trees are not safe.”

“I caught that part…” She looked to the black pool of water left by the wraith as the Rift slowly disappeared. “Where am I?” Sybl looked around as a distant drumming continued, likely from more of the same deer-like creatures.

The stag began to paw the ground with its cloven front hoof, till it had rustled together enough dying leaves. Then they began to move across the ground. “Aragmoth leads you that way.”

Aragmoth? Does this mean I’m dead?
She touched her shoulder, not remembering where the last bullet had struck. With her wounds gone, things became even more confusing as she looked down to see that she was wearing an elegant blue dress.

“Death is but the other side of life. Fay are the equilibrium, and are able to exist between both.”

Sybl decided to take that as a yes. “Where is that way?”

“All paths are clouded now. There be wraiths in the trees.”

She followed after the dying leaves. They decayed into dust as they moved in their drifting procession through the woods.

The stag turned away from her and went over to another tree, before beginning to strike it as it had with the one before.

Snow-like dust floated down from the dark canopy overhead, visible only in the beams of light that were able to break through it. Everything looked as if half of all the colors in existence had vanished from the world. Sybl continued to follow the leaves, until they scattered away on reaching a pond.

On top of the still, dark-blue water, was a man who looked to be practicing with a long sword. Dressed in golden armor and a horned helmet that concealed most of his face, he sparkled like the stars. As he moved, the water stayed as still as solid glass under his feet. But as beautiful as he was, his reflection was not, as it showed the truth to his real self; the Eminor Daath. The reflection was equally alive, as it followed Damek’s movements like a shadow, but kept its green eyes on her.

Should he release it, I will return,
Sybl could remember from Daath’s words on Earth, before the soul-separated Eminor left her where she would be killed moments later.
And here is darkness from which only light can escape.

The stillness wasn’t to last, as someone else charged the scene of serenity and collided with their large blade against Damek’s. They locked weapons for a moment, before the attacker forced Damek down and struck him across the ice. Her heart froze when the blond hair of the attacker settled back down to reveal their face.

“You had that one coming,” Cirrus laughed, as he kicked up Damek’s blade from the surface of the ice and into his hand. “Now get up, your Highness, before your mother thinks I’m not beating enough lessons into you.”

Sybl blinked a few times and looked around for Serena, as she was the only one he could have been referring to. But there was no one else.

Cirrus’ expression changed moments after, to match his new clarity on having referred to her by the wrong name. “My apologies. Your footsteps sounded so much like someone else’s.”

Sybl didn’t understand, as Cirrus was acting like he didn’t recognize her. She looked at Damek who was back on his feet. But everything was wrong, as despite her memory knowing the ‘Prince’ as Damek, Cirrus knew him only as Nafury. Damek was now playing his cards just right to get something he wanted from her, with Cirrus set between them. Sybl could only guess that she had some part to play in the riddle of releasing Damek’s soul from this place. But she only wanted to get out with Cirrus.

“You’re scaring her,” Damek said, pulling off his golden helmet to wipe the blood from his nose into his white sleeve. “It is not wise to frighten the Asterian Caelestis if you wish to remain in favor of Aragmoth.”

Cirrus looked at his Prince.

“This is the reincarnation of Asil,” Damek further explained.

Cirrus completely focused on her now, as his light blue eyes glowed.

Sybl stepped back, fearing he might somn into his dragon form in self-defense.

Two teenage ayame giggled and blushed as Delare touched one of their palms. Their long, straight black hair and red eyes glowed with the radiant power that was the youth of phelan somnus. As with the tradition of the Lunar Festival that his mistress, Gloria, forced him to participate in every year, he pretended to read the girl’s palm. He was a sailor, not an entertainer, but he kept his complaints to himself.

It was all a show, as he didn’t need to see or touch their palms to see their Fates. One would die before her seventeenth birthday, while the other would start a powerful Pack of her own, only to one day find herself helpless to keep all her males from being slaughtered by another Pack. Then she would be killed shortly after.

He gently re-Threaded their palms, like fine-tuning an instrument so it might avoid the wrong note with its song of destiny. With the best smile he could suffer, he nodded that he was finished. They ran off laughing amongst themselves, oblivious to anything their futures held.

“Delare, my love, would it be too much to ask for you to look more cheery? The Festival is only once a year, and it would help our business,” Gloria called from the rail of her ship behind him.

Delare turned his mask around till the black band of it was over his eyes, then turned his head around to flash his human mistress a false, white smile.

“Thank you,” the red-haired woman said, before leaving the rail and heading off to attend to other matters.

Before Delare could try to relax under the remaining starlight, she returned to scorn him again.

“Is there a reason there is another woman sleeping in my bed?” Gloria stomped down the wooden plank to where Delare now hid under an old blanket, with his brown feathers sticking out. He had somned into his pluma form that was similar to a cougar, but with wings.

Delare twitched his white-tipped cat tail to wave in surrender to the outside world he could not hide from today.

“Delare!”

“She will be dead soon, and I will remove her from your bed.”

“You will get that filthy street rat out of my bed now, or you can find yourself another ship!”

Delare obeyed, and slid out from under the blanket. He leapt the height of the ship to the rail that was three times his length, and then headed towards Gloria’s cabin.

He found the Caelestis unconscious and still on the edge of life and death. Her long brown waves were tattered and burned, and she looked little older than a teenager. Most of her body had been badly burned as well and scarred, and the Keol had nearly evaporated every drop of blood from her body. Still, she hung onto life despite the impossible odds against her. For whatever reason, Aragmoth had decided to wash her up on shore near him.

He turned her onto her stomach with his paw. With her body in such a turmoil of suffering, it would have been humane to cut the last Threads of life that she clung to, and release her to a peaceful sleep. He looked again at the Curse that had been Threaded onto her back. It was a black scar to the normal eye, weaving over her veins and skin like a complex tattoo. As he examined it, he realized that it could have only been so intricately woven by Damek. To free her to death would only make her his prisoner.

“Delare!”

Delare ducked as Gloria’s shouting made his ears feel like they would bleed. He unsomned in a brown mist to his human-like appearance to pick up the girl in his arms and carry her outside. He walked down the plank, and set her down on the wooden crates he had been entertaining customers from. Delare set his blanket over her body, and left her face free to breathe.

He didn’t know what to do with her, so he waved the next customers away as he brought his knee under his chin. She needed a Healer, and preferably one who would not make her precarious situation worse. With most of the Healers taken by the Atrum for the services of warfare, it didn’t leave many behind to choose from.

Delare sighed. Aragmoth himself may have set her before him as a test. One he wasn’t in the mood to test back. And that included Gloria’s idea of throwing her to Eternal Waters as a sacrifice. But Aragmoth wasn’t to favor him today, as several loud voices walked towards him from the streets of the Harbor.

These somnus he could not wave away, as they came to a stop before him. Their long, white hair drifted over their black armor. The leader of them stepped forward, after giving the GLORIA a quick look of his unflawed eyesight that most griffin somnus had.

Delare quickly twitched his fingers at a Thread to pull the blanket over Sybl’s face, completely covering the Caelestis behind him. “May I help you soldiers?”

“We have orders from Commander Mersael to search your ship.”

“You are welcome to search, but if you take to stealing as the last duo to come by here did, you will not find my mistress in a receiving mood.”

“We don’t care about your wench,” the leader blurted back.

Delare stopped the soldier in his tracks, as he swiftly caught a Thread that led to his windpipe. “You will apologize for your uneducated insult, for the sake of your life.”

The other two griffin somnus reached for their guns, but just as quickly, Delare caught them in his other hand and held them there, as if they were mere string puppets.

“What is going on over here?” Quinn asked, and walked over to find Delare in a precarious situation.

“These gentle birds believe that our mistress is a common prostitute. As such they now owe her an apology for referring to her in the wrong manner.”

Quinn’s yellow eyes glowed at his kind, and his hand settled on his katana-like blade that hung from his belt. “I think you should apologize. My friend doesn’t wait very long.”

The leader of the three soldiers quietly gulped, before murmuring out an apology.

Delare cautiously let go of their life Threads, keeping a light grip on their hands should they decide to reach for their blades or guns again.

The leader rubbed his throat, before heading onto the ship to start the search.

“Why can’t you just try to get along with others?” Quinn scolded in a whisper at Delare, as if he were merely a child and not well over three hundred years old.

“I was playing nice. I gave them the chance to apologize, and then plunder our ship.”

Quinn only shook his head, before looking at the odd lump behind Delare.

Delare’s eyes glowed a brighter green, before he shook his head slightly to signal Quinn to drop the question for now.

Quinn did, and was quickly distracted when Gloria started shouting at the griffin somnus a barrage of curses and insults for their intrusion.

What was supposed to be a thorough search was quickly turned into a hasty retreat, as the soldiers left at three times the pace they had arrived in. A mischievous smile curled on the side of Delare’s mouth. His mistress stopped at nothing to get uninvited guests off of her ship. Even if there were only miles of water for them to be thrown into.

But his short-felt victory was dropped from his face when the girl behind him began to wake up.

Sybl looked at Damek as the realm of death started to become brighter. She didn’t need to find his soul in Aragmoth—he had led her right to it. Of what memories she had of Damek in her past life, she knew that there were always two edges to his blade. Two faces that would switch without warning. With his Eminor half gone, but still watching, she was left with a debate against his soul. A soul that was proving more deceptive than one of light might suggest.

Before she could anticipate Damek’s next move, Cirrus walked over to her. He took her hand into his, and knelt down on one knee to introduce himself as one of the High Guards of Toria.

Her blush burned away all that she was thinking. Even here, Cirrus was beautiful enough to make everything else insignificant.

Cirrus gave a humble smile, but it looked to be the hardest fight of his life to face her.

“Come, Asil. Toria has been too long without its Caelestis,” Damek said, holding out a hand to her. “I want you there with me.”

Sybl took a step forward to follow both of them, until a harsh, cold wind stung her spine. She turned around as it felt like the eyes of the entire forest was staring at her. But Cirrus’ touch brought her focus back to him. His hand left her shoulder and rested against her forehead, as if to check her for a fever.

She stood dumbstruck for a moment, as he looked to be feeling for the right Threads to somn with her. The uncertainty in his touch might have suggested that she was a broken toy that he couldn’t quite figure out.