With a shout, Dahn awoke and sat straight up, eyes wide.
“Are you alright, Little Mouse?” Jayn was bent over her, looking concerned.
“I—” Dahn started, then stopped abruptly in complete confusion. Where am I? she wondered. Nothing and no one but Jayn looked familiar. Dahn slowly realized she was lying on a bed covered in clean white linens in a small, whitewashed room that smelled of sweat and strong drink. Her head was pounding. She was very dizzy and … why was there blood on her hands?
“You fainted, young lady,” said a low voice that Dahn didn’t recognize. “Then you fell and split your head on the stone floor.” A short, stocky woman with white hair stepped into view, her hands firm but careful as she eased Dahn back onto the linens. “Stay still while I make sure you haven’t broken anything.”
“Better do as Myria says,” said a dejected sounding voice from across the room. “She doesn’t understand the word ‘No.’”
“Wyll?” Dahn said, a bit too loudly, sitting up again, feeling a wave of dizziness and pain in her head as she did. The redhaired boy was seated near a door with his bandaged foot raised on a stool in front of him. His face was bruised and swollen. “What happened?”
“Lie down, young lady!” Myria instructed, firmly, applying a bit more pressure to her shoulders, pushing her onto her back. “A head wound is not a trivial thing.”
“It’s sore,” Dahn said, carefully touching her head just above the right ear. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the skin through her hair. “Did you stitch it up?”
“While you were out,” Jayn told her, “Myria carried you here from the Great Hall, cleaned your wound, sewed it up, and dressed it.”
“I had help carrying you,” Myria said, giving Jayn a sideways glance as she examined Dahn. “It appears that the wound is superficial. Just to be safe, though, I’ll keep you here for a day or two.”
“What?” Dahn asked, confused. “I need to help get ready for the fe—”
“You’re in no condition to help with anything,” Jayn told her, firmly, hands on hips. “Besides, I’m not sure the Great Hall is the best place for you right now.”
“Or the World Room,” Myria agreed, nodding as she stood straighter and used a cloth that smelled as if it were soaked in alcohol to wipe her hands. “In fact, I’d stay as far away from crystals as possible, anything except small whites, perhaps.”
“Why? What happened to me?”
“How much do you remember?” Jayn asked, moving closer to her bedside.
Dahn shook her head and said, “I just remember cleaning the floor and then … something strange tingled at the back of my neck. When I turned around to see what it was, one of the paintings on the wall was glowing—blue, I think. And then…” Dahn closed her eyes and wrinkled her brow, trying to remember. “A man … or someone … came to me. I was lost…? Scared. It was dark and he was dressed in robes. I—I couldn’t see his face, only his eyes. He was under a very tall tree. And MaHo’Ni was in the night sky. But it’s daylight! Was this a dream?”
“Perhaps,” said Jayn, sighing. “I don’t know what happened eith—”
“Did this person touch you?” Myria asked, urgently, not sounding at all like the calm healer she’d been a moment ago. Dahn looked and saw that the old woman’s eyes were wide, and her face flushed.
“N-No, I don’t remember being touched,” Dahn stammered. “I remember the person speaking to me, is all.”
“What did they say?” Myria’s quick and loud question was almost accusatorially harsh.
“Uh,” Dahn struggled to think, “just one word, I believe. Um … ‘entire’ or ‘intrigue’ maybe?”
“Entity,” Myria whispered, clutching her heart. Dahn thought she could hear the whisper echo through the room. The old woman looked sharply at Dahn and demanded, “How did you get back?”
Dahn shook her head which made it ache even more. “I don’t know,” she said, softly. “I can … I can remember something about lightning and a maze and … and a kind and powerful woman in green pulling me along a bright path. Then … then I woke up here.”
Myria put both hands to her suddenly pale face. “Ekatern’s in the crossroads!” she shouted and bolted for a door that Dahn hadn’t noticed earlier. As she reached the doorknob, the door flew open. There, standing in the doorway, urgency and concern covering his face like a mask, was Karl Starei.
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Sprinting down the hall as fast he could, Karl reached the door to the infirmary in only a few seconds. He didn’t want to leave Xahn and Ekatern alone in the World Room for a moment longer than necessary. Yanking the door open a bit too harshly, he was about to push his way into the small, whitewashed room when the scene before him caused him to stop and reorient himself. Myria was already at the door, as if she’d known he was coming. Behind her, the room was packed with Jayn standing in her colorful clothing, Wyll leaning against the wall his bandaged foot raised on a stool, and lying in the bed with a head dressing was…
“Dahn?” Karl asked, confused and concerned.
“She’ll be fine,” Myria promised him, hurriedly. “It’s Ekatern, isn’t it?"
“And Xahn,” Karl acknowledged, nodding vigorously. In his mind, Karl triaged the situation: Dahn had been hurt, but she was awake and being cared for; Wyll was in a similar situation; however, Xahn and Tern were still unconscious and alone in the World Room. As much as he needed to comfort and care for his daughter and Wyll right now, the others took precedence.
“Komstdu!” he demanded, unconsciously slipping into Dashtongue, as he seized Myria’s hand. Eagerly, she allowed herself to be pulled into the main hallway, evidently having come to the same conclusions as Karl. Myria looked over her shoulder and barked, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest, both of you children! Jayn, you’re in charge!” Then the door slammed shut on its own as Karl pulled Myria along with him, being as gentle as possible while running.
“The Starei curse continues,” Karl muttered in Dashtongue as he ran.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Curse?” Myria asked in perfect Dash, slightly out of breath.
“My family was wiped out before I was sixteen,” Karl told her, slowing his pace as they reached the enormous World Room door. “I led a losing army and then lost my country as well.” He pulled the door open with one hand, guiding Myria inside as he spoke. “When I found peace a thousand miles away, I lost the only woman I ever loved. And now, I may be losing my children.”
“There are no such things as curses,” Myria said as she followed Karl to where Xahn and Ekatern laid, still unconscious. The knight had learned on the battlefield that, if possible, one should never move the injured until the healer arrived.
Myria went directly for Xahn, which made Karl silently grateful. He’d have thought she’d go for her friend and mentor first. Kneeling at the young man’s side, the old woman put a hand on his forehead and touched a gray crystal in the silver necklace around her throat, which Karl had never noticed she wore. Instantly, the crystal lit up like a small lantern and Myria closed her eyes, as if in prayer. Karl seemed to remember Suhan telling him that grays had the “talent” of healing. At least, he hoped that’s what Myria’s was. After a moment, the healer sighed and opened her eyes.
“He’s alright,” she said. “Xahn will be waking soon. Let me check his knees to make certain he didn’t reopen his wounds.” Gently, she shifted Xahn’s legs—which had collapsed beneath him—so that they were stretched out comfortably before him. She found the holes in his trousers at the knees, pulled back the bandages and caught her breath. “My lord,” she said breathlessly, looking up at Karl. What she showed him was so incredible, he forgot to tell her not to call him that.
Xahn’s knees were completely healed. The skin was unbroken and smooth, as if he had never been injured.
After only a moment, Myria rose from the prone young man and made her way to the dais, where Ekatern lay. Karl stayed by his son. A few seconds later he heard a soft, regular sound, like a dog panting and he knew Myria—the strong, secure healer—was crying.
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“What was that about Xahn?” Wyll asked from his seat near the outside door of the infirmary. “That didn’t sound good at all.”
“Don’t go baking pies with a drawing of flour,” Jayn said, repeating something his mother said to him several times each week. “All we heard was their names and we haven’t a clue what’s going on with them.”
“Xahn will be alright,” Dahn said, peacefully. “I would know if he were in danger.”
“Really?” Wyll sneered, his face turning ever redder than usual. “Because twins know everything about each other, right? Did you know when we almost died today?”
“You didn’t almost die,” Jayn and Dahn said at the same time. Dahn giggled slightly and said, “Yes, Wyll, I knew that he was very worried, despite putting on a brave face. And I also knew when our father showed up, because Xahn’s heart quickly moved from fear to feeling safe and secure.”
“Give it a rest, Wyll,” Jayn chided the young man. “You’re going to be fine. We even saved your boots.”
“Yes,” Wyll sighed. “At least they’re safe and secure.”
The door to the main hallway opened, Myria pulling it slowly this time. With great care, she helped Karl lead his son into the room. Xahn was walking with only a little help from his father, but he looked weak and frail. His eyes were half-closed, as if he were trying to stay awake.
“I only have one bed in here,” Myria apologized. “But it’s a wide one. Come, Xahn. Lie up here next to your sister.” After a bit of struggle, Dahn had moved to the left side of the bed and Xahn was now lying on her right. Once his head hit the linens, he fell asleep.
“He will be like that a few days,” Myria told Karl. “Then he should be fine.”
Karl nodded, then stopped abruptly. “We don’t have a few days,” he said, calmly but forcefully. “Tern told me the demonspawn would be here in two days’ time.”
“Demonspawn?” said everyone in the room except Xahn—deeply asleep—and Myria.
“The Feast of the Vessel is a ruse,” Myria told them with a sigh, eyes down. When she looked up, the rims of her eyes were bright red. “Ekatern was trying to get everyone inside the temple to protect them from the goblin horde.”
The room was completely still for several seconds, the only sounds that crept through the edges of the outside door were those of children cleaning the courtyard and planting flowers.
“I’m sorry,” Wyll said quietly after a few moments. “But will someone please inform me what the bloody hell is going on?”
The room remained silent for quite a while longer. No one even told young Helper to watch his language.
Karl was the first to speak, recounting his conversation with Ekatern in the World Room and the visions he’d seen through the large, blue crystal. Myria was next, telling them all the plans Ekatern and she had put together, ensuring the children would be protected by paying them to clean, then encouraging parents and the rest of the village to join them for the feast.
“The temple is the only place we can hold off the demonspawn long enough for most of us to escape,” Myria explained, her head bowed again.
“Escape?” Jayn asked. “This is the first I’m hearing of any of this. How do you and Ekatern propose to help us escape?”
“Through the mines,” said a young but strong voice. Wyll continued, “My father says the witch’s mansion is built over the main shaft of the largest crystal mine ever discovered. He says it was cut wide and deep enough to haul out immense crystals. Some of them ended up in this place. But that shaft was sealed off decades ago, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Jayn told him, thoughtfully. “No, all the servant women have been through that shaft. There is even an ancient rail cart system to Lolan that still works. Ekatern made it available to me when I was searching for Tress; then later, for Duncan.Ekatern kept the shaft a secret because of the access to the Heart of the World.”
“The what of the what?” asked Wyll.
“Not now, Wyll,” Jayn said, holding up one hand. She looked directly at Myria, put a finger gently under her chin, and lifted the old woman’s eyes until Jayn looked directly into them. “There are not enough carts or llamas to move us all to Lolan.”
“No,” Myria admitted, grasping Jayn’s hand from under her chin and holding it tightly. “The order was to get the children out first, then the adults and finally the acolytes. We knew the temple’s defenses will only hold the horde off temporarily. Enough to at least get the children away safely. Ekatern and I never expected to be able to leave.”
“Monsters from fairy stories,” Wyll grumbled, though his voice waivered.
“Quiet, Wyll,” Dahn told the young man, kindly. “I believe them.”
“Then it is settled,” said Karl in his matter-of-fact Dash way. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, emptying himself of bad emotions, like frustration, fear, and anger. He took another slow breath and said, “We will continue with the plan. None of us will leave the temple until everyone that can be saved is saved. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” they all said in unison.
“Despite the circumstances,” Karl added, looking knowingly at Myria.
“Circumstances?” Dahn asked, hearing the finality in her father’s voice. She had heard that tone before, years earlier, in much sadder times.
Myria reached into the folds of her dress, her hand trembling as she retrieved a silver circlet. A large green crystal sat in its center, glowing with a steady light. Jayn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Wyll’s usual sarcasm vanished as he stared at the glowing crystal, his face pale. Even Karl’s tight hold on his emotions slipped a bit as he lowered his head, his jaw clenched tightly. “That’s Ekatern’s!” Jayn whispered, her voice breaking. “She never removes it! Never! She just covers it.”
“Yes,” said Myria, her voice thick with grief as tears filled her eyes. “I followed her instructions. I—I removed it from her brow as she laid on the floor of World Room.” Myria held the circlet close to her heart, her knuckles white against the silver. “She went to the Crossroads … and never returned.”
The glow of the green crystal in Myria’s trembling hands cast eerie shadows on the whitewashed walls as a heavy and suffocating silence filled the room. Everyone stared at the gem as the meaning of the old woman’s words seeped into their hearts: Ekatern, the Crystal Witch who had lived in the mountains of Hylan for countless generations, was dead.