“Envision Havenstone. Think about the gates, your homes, the Knights, the protective walls. Don’t be distracted by anything else.” Claire instructed the group, before she jugged a vial that looked as if it’d been full of a golden liquid. The air smelled like lemons, but I doubted there had been any lemons in that vial.
“If you stray, we aren’t coming back for you!” Blaise called out, then fell in next to Claire. He walked a pace behind her, the most I had seen him fall back in any of the Veil crossings.
When the mist rose up at Claire’s call the voices returned to my mind. Not the distinctive voices of Corvusol or Mithras, but the discordant cacophony of many distant voices. So many voices, and the mist seemed to act like a conduit for even more to join in and greet me as an enkindler, whatever the hell that was. I stumbled through ever thickening mists that grew in resistance to me. If they had be molasses to start, the mists turned to hardening concrete. Then I couldn’t move at all.
The mist fell and we were not at Havenstone. We were halfway up a hill that was filled with stone monuments. Well, I was. None of the Dustwalkers were with me. Strange blocks rose into the air, some had horizontal planks across them, some rose as singular obelisks. A tall stone wall ran around the entire circle of the hill, and the Black Sun was positioned so perfectly above one of the crossed stone blocks that, at first, I didn’t even notice the person hidden in broad daylight before it.
“A brand-new enkindler brought to me by my favorite band of adventurers.” The voice belonged to a woman, but not a human. When she spoke, my eyes flew to Corvusol and her location above the stones. She activated some kind of power that made her glow with a deep black that stood out, somehow, against the black orb in the sky. Her long slender ears had tips, her limbs were slightly stretched compared to a human, and her eyes were like cut gems. They didn’t appear to be soft or squishy like a human’s eyes, they looked like masterfully carved gems, and were solid red. Her hair was also red, and her skin seemed to be somewhere between pink and purple.
The woman took a step off the stone, her boots stepped firmly onto the air itself. I’d seen very few humans able to stand on the air, for whatever reason, humans rarely received flight. She wasn’t in any kind of a rush as she sauntered down invisible stairs. I noticed that behind her floated a black crystal.
“Don’t you think that’s enough, Amara?” The black crystal spoke in a way that echoed in my mind, and its voice was the voice of Corvusol!
Amara, whoever she was, was garbed in black leathers. The pointed ears likely meant she was a fey, and that I was about to die. Her ensemble reminded me of the attire favored by those who combined magic and the art of roguery. She carried no visible weapon, but her black gloves ended in sharp claws that radiated danger far more strongly than the tip of my spear. In addition to her black ensemble, she wore a cloak of raven feathers that fluttered dramatically around her. The clasp of her cloak was a bright red rose.
“I am the Keeper of the Evernight Rose. Give me your name, newborn enkindler?” Amara smiled, and it brought out the red of her lips. Somehow the shade of the rose perfectly matched the red of blood, yet even that failed to match the spectacular luster of red that were her full lips.
“No. No fey games with this one, Amara.” Corvusol scolded the woman, the black crystal pulsed purple with each word.
“Why does your associate keep calling me an enkindler, Corvusol?” I demanded. I tried to get my thoughts together. This was a fey. I had to be careful. I could lose my identity, my name, my life, or a dozen worse things with a careless word with a fey. Yet in my rush to prove I wasn’t.. I don’t even know what I wanted to disprove, but I proved I was reckless if anything, speaking to Corvusol that way. Panic flared, and I desperately sought control of my emotions.
Laughter spilled out of Amara. When delight filled those red eyes, and a beautiful smile pulled at her red lips, she looked breath-taking. Those sparkling eyes were the most glorious windows to the soul I had ever seen, and I wanted to lick her exposed clavicle. I wanted to what? Fey could cast glamours, their charms were potent magic, and I clearly was vulnerable to it. Or maybe I had never properly appreciated the sexiness of a good clavicle before? I imagined Claire’s clavicle in my mind, no desire to lick it emerged. I tried to picture Celestine’s, but I had never seen her without her armor. Amara’s perfectly formed, sharp collarbone accentuated her flawless pink skin, and tempted the eye to dart up to her beautiful face, or down to the surprisingly bountiful cleavage displayed by her outfit.
“You can still hear me. Unexpected.” Corvusol mused, but its words gave me something to latch onto, to find control of myself in. Maybe I’d just become numb to panic already?
“Enkindlers are what we call those able to enliven and bind concepts inside of themselves and others. I, too, am an enkindler. You have not awoken yourself yet, so starved have you been for the touch of the mist, the breath of chaos.” Amara walked around me as she spoke, studying me the same way an adventurer studied a new piece of gear, weighing my pros and cons, if I was worth the price tag. That Amara was taller than me by six inches only added to everything else and made me feel insignificant compared to her and the strange black crystal.
“How about it, human? Want to have revenge on Mithras for discarding you? He doesn’t like your kind.”
“Kind?” Amara asked.
“This one is mana-dead, though what it lacks in magic, it makes up for in astral capacity.” Corvusol answered in annoyance, as if he’d been asked a rhetorical question.
Amara studied me even harder after the answer, as if I were a uniquely pretty butterfly she might put a pin through and add to her collection.
“That wasn’t Mithras, but a fever dream. I was exposed to Decaylings. Where did my adventuring party go?” Apparently, Blaise hadn’t lied about leaving any stragglers behind. How had I been separated from them, wasn’t Claire supposed to be a super talented Mistwalker?
“Oh, is that so? Then give your name to Amara.”
I almost did it, especially when I looked back at Amara’s eyes, and quickly felt captivated by the sparkle of her ruby eyes, the curve of her lips, the hint of cleavage revealed between outfit. I felt woozy, light-headed. The curl of her bangs, the way they framed the red eyes, I wanted to cup her chin and kiss her. I had to break eye contact and stare at the distance. That’s when I realized that there were three large creatures on the hilltop with Amara and me. They looked like immense dogs made from plants, in fact, they looked a lot like the Briarfangs from the depictions of the Fall of Edgehold.
“That’s all you can handle?” Amara laughed in a way that sent blood through my cheeks, and lower regions, too.
“What do you want from me?” I demanded. Even if it was Corvusol and some fey, they shouldn’t play with me so. But that’s what fey did, they played, and played, until there was nothing left, and then they left the corpses of humans behind to find a new plaything.
“I want you to survive, to shove a blade into Mithras. But you aren’t one of mine, it seems.” Corvusol sighed. Or maybe the wind blew. It was hard to tell.
“If he isn’t yours…” Amara arched one of her fine brows and regarded me directly.
“No.” Corvusol denied Amara the right to claim me. “A moment.”
Time froze in the glade, and I spun upward and out of my body into a dark place. A golden hued crystal floated before me. Fractures ran across it, through it, but it still radiated immense power. Power that dwarfed the Black Sun, and Mithras both. Once. In days long gone. Now, it might be their equal. Maybe their lesser. My sense of everything felt untrustworthy. This wasn’t magic, but something else, something even I could feel.
“I’ve purchased this time with you from Corvusol. Do you understand the danger you are in, little one? Corvusol is the embodiment of Entropy, and his companion is no mere fey. Corvusol will not allow you to leave without paying a price, no matter what I pay. He is capricious, meddling, and insufferable. Amara is arrogant, vain, and amused by you. Use that to your advantage.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Who are you?” I asked the damaged crystal.
“You who dream of Castles, know that I am Arx Maxima, the grandest fortress to ever exist. I am broken now, but my strength could be yours.”
“And what is your price to save me going to be?” I asked dubiously. It seemed very likely Amara and Corvusol would murder me without a second thought if I couldn’t buy my freedom from them, but I had nothing of any worth, and the Dustwalkers were nowhere to be found. Perhaps they’d already returned to Havenstone and reported me lost. Emery, the lost blank, would anyone but Mom and Dad mourn me? Etienne wouldn’t.
“I want to be rebuilt. Raise me a new. Make me a place of security in the heart of chaos.”
“I don’t have any power to do that.”
“I can give you power. Vast cosmic power.”
“Can you give me magic?” I wanted magic. I wanted so much magic I could shove Etienne’s face in it and he’d cry and apologize for being such an asshole to me.
“You are magic dead. You cannot use magic, but through other means, you can manipulate it. I have many aspects which could give you what you desire.” Arx Maxima assured me.
“Why can’t you give me magic?”
“Magic isn’t mine to give. It belongs to Mithras and some others, but there are other powers I can give you, that are mine.”
“Do we have to barter a deal, like fey? What’s in it for me?” A bit mercenary to ask, but survival alone might get me into an even worse situation than I found myself in. I wouldn’t be a slave.
“No. Our deal will be this: You will bind me to three of your attributes and gather any of my fragments you encounter. Together, we will build a new shining citadel.”
“What? How do I bind you? Attributes? Why three? How many are there?”
“Four. Strength, Agility, Vitality, and Essence. I will bring you to me when you have bartered your freedom from Amara and Corvusol. You must be fortified to hold my power, to become my hand in the world.”
“And you aren’t evil? Why don’t you have a hand now?”
“Evil and Good are immaterial to me. I am Arx Maxima, the Star Citadel of the Stellarae Enclave, and my meaning was destroyed with the fall of the Enclave. We will find new purpose, together.”
“You didn’t answer why you don’t already have a lackey?” I pointed out.
“Like you, I am not a being of magic. Only a magic-dead enkindler can carry my conceptual weight and not be broken by the arcane rebound.”
“Alright, not sure I like the sound of arcane rebound, but if it won’t effect me, yay me. So, say I tentatively agree. How do I get away from those two?”
“Placate the ego of Amara, give her something. Not your name, but something as close to trivial as you can manage.”
“What if they offer me a better deal than you do?”
“Then take it,” Arx Maxima rebuffed me, and I fell back into my body.
Amara stared at me with those red, faceted eyes, and I felt desire and obsession growing inside of me. I quickly looked away.
“So, what’s it going to be, enkindler?” Amara asked.
“That depends on what kind of offer you can make me, Corvusol. Or if you’re offering me something, Lady Amara.” Flattery, right?
“My title is Marchioness, not Lady,” Amara scoffed.
“Give me all four of your bindings,” Corvusol suggested.
“Don’t accept that. If you make all four of your bindings to a sapient concept, you become an avatar of it. No more you. You owe me, for this knowledge.” Amara smiled a dazzling smile. That was useful knowledge that she gave away for free. That Arx Maxima hadn’t asked for all four when I hadn’t known spoke well of her, I guess.
“I’ll pass on your generous offer, Corvusol. And do you have any offers, Marchioness?”
People with titles liked to be called by them, right?
“I’m waiting for you to offer me something to leave here alive, obviously.” Mischief and a smug satisfaction filled Amara’s face as I deflated a little. I hoped she’d offer me some clues, at the very least.
“What could a nobody like me possibly give to someone like you?” I asked.
“Fishing in empty waters only disrupts the surfaces reflection,” Corvusol warned me.
Corvusol, or the black crystal that he spoke through, was back handed by Amara. The glare she gave the crystal was murderous, but the intensity faded before my eyes, then she shrugged and turned her gaze onto me. Fey were said to be mercurial, but this seemed more than that. Had Corvusol said something meaningful?
“What will you offer me for your life, manling?” Amara demanded, and her tone gave no more time for delay tactics. In her tone was the promise to end me if I didn’t get this right.
The world shuddered under the assault of my heart beats, or that’s how it felt to me. Each thud vibrated my chest, roared in my ears, and made the tips of my fingers vibrate. My stomach wanted to crawl up and out of my mouth so it could then hurl all the bile in the world into a hole, or onto Amara’s stylish boots.
Names were powerful, but Arx Maxima said not to give mine away. I had no money to speak of. I didn’t want to not die if it meant being a slave, but what point would someone like Amara have for a useless slave? Fey liked memories, but I’d never loved a woman, or had the powerful memories they described in fairy tales. My dreams of building a Castle wouldn’t even intrigue her, now that my heart knew the truth of how Mithras felt about me. If that asshole was the magic guy that Arx implied, it seemed to me like he could have fixed me if he wanted too. Instead, he’d cast me aside.
Maybe I should have accepted Corvusol’s deal. Not four bindings, but Corvusol might take something less for a chance at revenge. Arx Maxima had asked for three, not four, so I had one left. Would Corvusol even get in between Amara and I now? Were they master/servant, or what kind of relationship did they have? Neither of them seemed precisely subservient to the other, for some reason I felt like they were more like friends, but also that Corvusol had a slightly higher position than her.
I had to stop thinking of things I didn’t have, or know, and focus on what I did have. I ran my mind over myself. My backpack had rations, a razor, a small mirror to shave with, some extra underclothes, and coarse hempen rope. I felt like that rope. Rough, forced into shape, spun into an end I had no control over, if I could not think of something to appease Amara. Another round of immense, bass filled vibrations filled my ears, and seemed to echo on and on. Why had I ended up with an echo in my head?
Echo. Mirror. Reflections. Had Amara struck Corvusol for using the word reflection?
“In return for my life I offer to trade you my reflection,” I sputtered out.
“Oh? You think highly of yourself. This could be interesting.” Amara arched a fine red brow at me.
“And I’ll give my last slot to Corv—”
“No, keep it open until you find something that catches your fancy,” Amara stopped me from finishing the offer, and glared at Corvusol’s crystal.
“Amara, you know it’s not your choice to stop him if he wants to take me on.” Corvusol tried to make her reconsider.
“No, trust me on this, Corvie.” Amara spoke with certainty to her companion, then turned to face me.
“Now you say, I, your name, accept and pay the cost willingly. Then we seal it with a kiss.” Amara seemed annoyed by the ritual. I’d heard enough fey rituals to know it didn’t need to be a kiss on the lips, it could be a dozen other things. Maxima had said to play to Amara’s ego.
“Don’t keep the lady waiting, boy, unless you’d prefer to seal it with blood?” Corvusol said in a tone that couldn’t be less taunting. It seemed that with Amaranthine’s refusal to let me bond with Corvusol that Corvusol had no further use for my existence. Were all mist beings this mercurial? No, this wasn’t even temperamental, this was insanely emotional.
“I, Emery LeeRoy, formerly of Havenstone, accept the trade of reflections in exchange for leaving here alive, as sealed with this kiss.”
“Very well, I, Amaranthine Sadow, Marchioness of the Black Sun, Keeper of the Evernight Rose, Harbinger of the Ebon Gale, guarantee your life leaving here in exchange for a trade of reflections.”
I swallowed. Of course, her name wasn’t Amara, but Amaranthine. I missed an important part of our deal because I was flabbergasted by who she was, too.
Marchioness Amaranthine fucking Sadow. This was the destroyer of Edgehold, a Fey so powerful she’d destroyed a Castle, killed a High Pyroclast, defeated a garrison of Horizon Guardians, Knight-Captain Stonehelm, and then slew the previous Knight-Commander to finish her reign of terror. As far as I understood it, she’d destroyed Edgehold only to retreat out of boredom and contempt at the weakness of humanity. The Church of Mithras vehemently disagreed with that rumor and held she had been repelled by wounds earned in her clash with the Knight-Commander.
Amaranthine stepped close to me, then. Faster than I could follow, her left hand grasped a full hand of my hair, pulled my head backward and then up. I had to stand on my tip-toes before she ripped my hair out, I didn’t want to find out if a handful of hair could support all my weight at once, and then her lips pressed against mine. Her tongue probed my mouth, and something seeped between us. A strange melancholy settled over me at once, and my body tingled in odd ways it never had before. Not in the attraction for a woman way, well, that too, but this sensation was like I’d lost a sense I didn’t know I had.
For some reason Amaranthine’s tongue felt rough and sharp, did her tongue have small barbs? Her sharp incisors almost cut my tongue. Exploration had a price.
A demure cough drew me back to reality. Then she dropped me, and I fell to the ground.
“Are you so weak you’ve lost your mind and flesh to a mere kiss?” Amara taunted me, but she seemed proud of herself.
How long had the kiss lasted? How long had she let me dangle, pressed against her warm body, while her tongue flickered against mine? Surely that hadn’t been part of the sealing of a deal? Why couldn’t I get past how glamourous and amazing she was, and focus on the evil, human killing, soul flaying dark sorceress aspect of this woman?
“That was my first kiss.” I mumbled stupidly.
“It showed. Your tongue is not a spear, no matter what nonsense they spout in the Twilight Glades,” Amaranthine retorted.
It was not a harsh retort, and in a way, it was a compliment. I had never kissed anyone before, but I’d imagined the scenario a million times. Me, a fair maiden I’d rescued from a mist-monster, maybe a toss in the hay…. This was the better story.
“You fool, you forgot to not only barter to leave here alive, but to do so unharmed.” Corvusol laughed and laughed.
Yep. Corvusol was a trouble-making asshole.