Ariiaya
“Well, I’ll just point out the bloody obvious, shall I? We have been infiltrated by someone from the north.” Krepth leaned back in his chair, picking remnants of breakfast from between his teeth as he watched Arii’s furious pacing. “If you don’t stop, little Violet, you will surely carve a path into the stone. Come – sit.” He tapped a hand on the wooden chair beside him.
Shortly after discovering the string, Arii and Elijah had swiftly dressed, before notifying the guards that a meeting with the Princes was needed, all passion of their brief collision fizzling to embers and their conversation paused for now.
The strange appearance of the box had been the final knife in the event that murdered their mood.
“There is only one place where someone could have entered the castle undetected,” mused Jero, stroking his beard as he leaned back in his chair, eyes tracking Arii as she paced the throne floor. “That is through our cemetery.”
“That’s morbid,” whispered Luc, sitting alongside Emerson with their hands entwined. “What does it mean, Arii?”
The Fury lifted a hand, the glowing string dangling from her clenched fist as she growled, “It means the Fates are watching – even this far south.”
“The Fates, or Valdis?” pointed out Emerson. “You left this particular string back at the castle, did you not?”
Arii frowned, eyeing him. “Yes. I’ll admit I could have perhaps hidden it better but that fact that it’s here is what concerns me now.”
“The Fates are not our enemies, not truly. Although they reside in the north, they are welcome here in Erstonia,” said Jero. “My thought is that the Fates are trying to get a message to you without drawing attention, Arii, if they are indeed the ones to leave the string.”
“Was there anything else on the letter?” enquired Nem, perched on the corner of the heavy wooden table – as far as she could get from Krepth, Arii noted.
“My name, and the words ‘We will meet where ends begin again’.”
“That does sound like a message that the Fates would leave,” reasoned Tikkani, worrying the end of her braid. She had a tinge of pink to her nose and cheeks as she shivered once, leaning towards the warmth of a nearby hearth.
“It does, but this thread was last seen in the hands of Lorch Kruel,” pointed out Nem. “The Fates are the mistresses of riddles, so that makes sense.”
Arii snuck a glance towards Elijah, who stood by the fireplace. He stared into the flames, characteristically silent yet she knew he was deep in thought, judging by the worry lines between his brows.
All she could think about was the letter she had sent to Lorch, and she wondered if this was a message in response.
A door nearby flew open as Valerie made her grand entrance, closely followed by Lyda and Gunner. “What did we miss?” said the pirate, dropping unceremoniously upon a chair closest to the pitchers of wine. Gunner swiped a mug while Lyda peeked out a nearby snow-dusted window.
“How do you feel about riddles, Val?” said Tikkani.
“Hate ‘em,” she retaliated, no hesitation in her reply.
“Oh, I love riddles!” grinned Lyda toothily. “Lay it on me.”
That was no surprise, as the pirate often spoke in riddles, and that was when she was sober. While drunk, she was hardly intelligible. Arii passed the note to her, to which she held the parchment up to her nose, eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Ends begin again… I’ve never been good at riddles,” said Quinn, munching on a piece of dried jerky. “Why must people speak in riddles? Out with it, I say!”
“Agreed,” muttered Arii peevishly, crossing her arms.
Lyda’s hand flew to the air, note clasped between her fingers, drawing the eager attention of everyone, before hope was rapidly dashed as she said, “Is this a bad time to admit that I can’t read?”
Valerie hawked a laugh.
“I think Jero provided the answer before. Where do ends begin again?” said Emerson, to no one in particular as he clutched Luc’s hand tight. All eyes turned to him. “When you die, where does your body go – ideally? I’d say whoever left you that message intends to meet you in the cemetery, Arii.”
The group’s attention was fully on the young man now, causing him to drop his chin meekly. “When we end, we go to the cemetery – to begin whatever comes next.”
“The boy may be right.” Thogan said, his deep voice breaking the brief silence.
“Well, no harm in taking a stroll to the cemetery to see if this theory is correct.” Krepth announced, standing and stretching. “It could be a trap, though.”
“Oh, I have absolutely no doubt it will be a trap.” Nem pushed off the table, heading for the doors as the group began to move.
Perhaps it was the last remnants of adrenaline – or perhaps it was withdrawals from deviating from her regular line of work, but Arii felt restlessness seep into her limbs. She flexed her fingers by her sides, her lips curling into a smirk as she said, “I sure do hope so.”
***
Arii was absolutely positive that her stubbornness was rubbing off on her friends. Short of locking them in their rooms, she could do nothing but sigh and agree when Tikkani, Emerson, Luc and Quinn all insisted they accompany them to Erstonia’s graveyard. Thankfully Valerie, Gunner and Lyda had agreed to remain at the castle’s local watering hole, quite happy to pick the brains of the town residents to see if anyone had seen anything strange – while sampling the beer on offer.
After arming themselves to the teeth with weapons – courtesy of Jero and Thogan – the group followed the Princes’ lead through a crudely carved stone archway, dusted lightly with powdery snow. A handful of castle guards remained nearby, patrolling the perimeter.
The sun had just retreated behind the mountains, a rich sunset painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.
The graveyard was a haphazard smattering of tombstones, many covered in overgrown vines and ivy leaves. There were stone sculptures carved to the likeness of the person passed, as well as elaborately designed pieces that were bold but beautiful. Some had crumbled with age, and some leaned as if the dirt beneath could no longer keep the stones straight. Some also had old bones draped like necklaces, and the skulls of animals resting upon them – ram, elk and boar heads with thick, curling horns and tusks perched like morbid crowns for the dead. Names in a language Arii could not read were carved into each of the tombs, people long gone but not forgotten despite the wild, ruggedness of the misty place.
The trees, now they were unexpected.
Dark, almost black bases broke through the ice and snow, reaching with spindly fingers into the sky. Sprouting from their limbs were deep red leaves, hanging like the willow trees back at the clear pool in Viridya. Their arms twisted in odd directions; the red canopy above creating a light cover against the heaviest fall of powder from above. The floor was littered with leaves, scatterings of red against the snow.
Pausing by a hanging branch, Tikkani pinched a leaf between her fingers, studying the golden veins in the middle of the leaf. “These trees, they’re beautiful. The leaves… they remind me of blood.”
Jero glanced over his shoulder, “They should, for they were born of the blood of those residing in this cemetery. Our beloved feed the trees, keeping their memory alive well after death.”
“Oh, what the fu–”
“Suppose it’d be safe to call them blood trees… literally?” chimed in Luc as Emerson slapped a hand over his sister’s mouth, hissing for her to hush. She twitched away from the tree as if the person beneath it may just rise from the earth.
“Indeed. The blood trees began to grow thousands of years ago. The magic from those buried here could be the cause of their unique colouring,” continued Jero, undeterred by Tikkani and Emerson’s flailing. “It is also said that the sap that the trees weep resembles tears of blood.”
Arii glanced up, watching russet rays of light break through the canopy to dance in patterns against the dark tree bark. Magic was thick in the air, its smell metallic, its taste – ancient. There was not a better word to describe the rich, burned sugar taste on the back of her tongue, as if toffee had been sitting in the back of a castle kitchen for far too long – stale and forgotten.
“There is someone up ahead,” murmured Elijah, his hand already hovering over the pommel of his sword as the group entered a clearing.
Arii felt the mood of their group instantly tense.
The clearing was white, a circle of old, towering stone monoliths framing a central statue of a marble bear, its head lifted to the sky, jaws parted in a roar. At its feet stood a cloaked figure, hooded head looking up at the statue. Slowly the person turned, pale hands folding back the hood.
“You received my message. Good,” said Klotho, her lips curled in a smile that did not meet her eyes.
“Klotho?” gasped Arii.
“You seem surprised, my Violet Assassin,” purred the woman, resting her hands before her. If not for the dark cloak and darker air, the woman may have just faded into the snow, her skin so pale it resembled moonlight.
“The last order you barked was for my murder so, yes, you could say that.” Recovering, Arii twisted a dagger through her fingers as she growled, “I’ll give you a few minutes to convince me not to end you right here and now.”
“Ahh Ariiaya, quick to violence as always.”
“I am what you made me,” she retorted.
Jero stepped forward, followed by his brother, dipping their heads in respectful greeting. Jero offered a hint of a smile, perhaps to ease the tension. “Sister Klotho, we welcome you. What can we do for the Sisters of Fate?”
Klotho dipped into a swift curtsy “Well met, Prince Jero.” She nodded to his brother. “Prince Thogan. I seek an audience with my runaway assassin, if you do not mind. I admit I am not surprised that Ariiaya brought along her little band of misfits. Oh, how far you have fallen, girl.”
“Something tells me you did not come all this way to pick me apart, Klotho. Spit it out.”
“Must I? You defied your orders and turned your back on your sisters. You know this to be true, I need not elaborate.”
“I did what I felt was right.”
“Right? When have you ever cared about what was right?”
“Since I discovered Valdis is breeding a fucking army of undead to kill us all!”
Klotho visibly flinched at that. “Ah yes, that. It is not your place to question fate, Ariiaya. The Gods will set things right, in the end, but the thread given to you was destined for Lorch Kruel, and you failed.”
“Was it truly?” said Elijah as he stepped forward, his face as expressionless as stone. “I have known Lorch for many years – he doesn’t deserve the fate of ending by assassination.”
“I will get to you next, Prince.” The woman spat, as if a foul thing had touched her tongue.
Arii launched forward, teeth bared in a snarl. “You do not speak to him like that.”
Her reaction gave Klotho pause, and the woman’s golden eyes danced between them as her face morphed from scorn to delight. “Oh, now this is interesting.”
“There is a point to this sunset meeting, am I correct? I don’t think you travelled all this way to admire the trees and tombstones,” interjected Krepth as a breeze picked up, dashing leaves across the forest floor.
Klotho’s wide smile did not falter as her eyes swept the group, falling upon Nemesis. “I came to bring my pupils home. Come with me now without fuss and the punishments intended for your betrayal will be far less than if you resist.” She paused, eyeing Elijah. “And Prince Eliverus must also accompany you. He will need us to guide him into his magic.”
She spoke as if he did not stand before her, as if she had a claim to him – a claim the Fates believed they had to all who wielded magic. Arii knew – even though she hated to admit it – that the Fates were perhaps the best people to train Elijah to control his magic. They trained their assassins in the art, so it made sense.
So why did she feel a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, as heavy as lead, at the thought?
Something did not feel right, as phantom fingers caressed the base of her spine.
‘Give him to them. Relinquish your burden,’ cooed the female voice, entering her thoughts unbidden.
No… that was not an option. She had trusted her gut every step of the way up until now, she was not about to ignore it.
“Don’t do it, Arii. Klotho and the sisters have an alliance with Valdis. He gives them Fae, and they give him magic to fuel his nightmare machine, not to mention soldiers to do his dirty work whenever he calls,” Nem said, glaring.
Klotho laughed, the only response to Nem’s words.
And it confirmed Arii’s suspicions.
“We do not need to be divided in this, Ariiaya. We can work together, be as we once did. Magic will return to Fythnar, and your fate rides on the side that you choose. Come home.”
Arii did not need to glance back to tell Nem had the same unease about her as she did, either sensing the presence or mirroring the same agitation that she felt at Klotho’s words.
She had always trusted the sisters, saw them as mentors, a strange sort of family – in place of those she had lost. They had never been motherly by any stretch of the imagination, but she assumed they had grown to become everything she knew. Perhaps she had never known better before.
Until now.
Now she knew better.
Subtly, Arii slid a foot forward as she whispered, “We are not going anywhere with you.”
Klotho sighed heavily as she said, “I was afraid you would choose the path of nonsensical righteousness.” Slowly she lifted her arms to the darkening sky, preceding the sound of crashing in the forest beyond. “Then you leave me with no choice… a shame.”
Half a dozen cloaked figures flew from the forest behind their group, and Arii’s eyes darted back over her shoulder as they were suddenly flanked.
Furies.
Arii heard a muffled curse and the sound of struggle, and she spun back to see that Klotho was clutching Nem to her chest, blade pressed against her best friend’s throat. Anger sizzled down her limbs as Arii drew her second dagger.
“The Gods do not favour betrayal. Remember this when they do not stand to greet you at your end. We, the Sisters of Fate, do not favour betrayal.”
To punctuate her words, Klotho’s dagger slid through flesh as Nemesis’ throat was opened to the sky.
No.
NO.
Red.
All she could see was red.
It bloomed across her vision as Nem fell to her knees, hands clutching at her throat to stop the red… red… red. Her silver nails coated in her own blood as she gasped, but it was no use.
It would not stop.
The blood would not stop.
Arii sprinted, unthinking, as the scene erupted into chaos. Behind her, she vaguely recognised Krepth’s inhuman howl of anguish as she sped, daggers moving first, striking the air and narrowly missing Klotho as the woman danced back, amusement on her face. Her hands flew out of her cloak to call forth lightning with impossible speed, her hair fanning out from her face as the graveyard turned blue.
“Now!” Klotho demanded; her cry followed by the distant sound of shrieking in the forest beyond.
That sound was horribly familiar. It had been a constant drone outside Arii’s cell in Bonemire. The sound haunted her dreams, coated her tongue with bile.
For the first time, Arii froze dead in her tracks.
The undead, they were here.
Impossible!
Swarming from the forest either side came the undead.
Klotho’s hand shot out, and just like all the times before within the training arena of the School of Fate, she was once again hurling magic Arii’s way. But this time Klotho’s intent wasn’t to teach a lesson… it was destruction.
Elijah was before Arii in an instant. His hands flew up, fingers splayed as the magic collided with his outstretched palms, and Arii swore he visibly slid back an inch in the snow. The magic parted and ricochet either side of his position, sparking fires in the closest trees. The snow melted around his boots, his fingertips smoking in the aftermath.
Klotho cackled madly, disappearing into the blood trees as the undead took over.
Utter chaos erupted, but one purpose broke through the haze of Arii’s mind.
Nem, she had to save Nem.
“Go!” bellowed Elijah, “We will cover you!”
With a nod, Arii spun and sped for Nem, skidding in the blood-soaked snow to grasp her best friend’s shoulders and roll her over, clawing the cloak and leather away from her wound.
Blood, there was so much of it.
As her fingers flew over Nem’s throat, Arii tried to block out the screams – wild, distorted human screams – from how many, she did not know. Throwing healing magic into her fingers, she began working even as she glimpsed the scene, emotion thickening in her throat.
Her friends, including the Princes of the south, were forming a circle around her.
Shielding her and Nem.
Tikkani and Emerson nocked arrows to aim at the oncoming hoard. Beside Emerson, Luc’s human form vanished in a flash to become a black panther with silver-streaked fur. He roared as Krepth’s wolf crouched and snarled beside him, hackles raised. Quinn drew his sword, pushing back his hair from eyes glassy with dread.
They all stood their ground despite their fear.
She found Jero and Thogan – bear hide cloaks rising as magic doused the air around them.
Then Elijah.
He unsheathed his sword, the metal ringing in the air as he slid into his fighting stance, as awesome to her now as it had been in the training ring.
As Arii’s eyes finally dropped to Nem – skin waxen and splashed with red – she focussed single-mindedly as she had done a thousand times before. She removed all thought and emotion as she pressed her hands to Nem’s wounds, allowing her magic to take over.