Forgotten Heir: Realm Doors Book One

Chapter Nine

The snow had almost gone. In the weeks since their visit to the archery range, the weather improved greatly, and so had Cara’s progress. As always, her weapons training progressed furthest, but her ability to utilise sorcery wasn't as far behind as it had been. She felt better as she sent a ball of flame into the fire pit, reigniting a dying log.

Her abilities weren't her only reasons for relief. The previous day Anthony trekked down to the blue van which she and Ric had abandoned and drove it the rest of the way to the barn, and that morning Luke had gotten up early to push his electric blue motorcycle out of one of the spare stables and onto the road. He’d gone to find a donor for himself and more blood for the fridge, while Anthony was on his way out for food to replenish their waning stock. She would’ve liked to go too, but the others said it would be too dangerous.

Instead, she and Kalidir stood facing each other, swords lightly touching in readiness. Her feet were shoulder width apart, her centre balanced, and she focussed completely on Kalidir, taking in every twitch and blink, waiting for the moment he attempted to strike. She felt the strength of the earth under her feet and the flighty ripples of air around her. Cara savoured her connection to the world and the life around her, and delighted in senses which had sharpened under Kalidir’s training. She had learned to listen with elahdril ears and see through elahdril eyes. Like vampires and werewolves, her senses were keener than those of mortals. Most elahdril learned to use their gifts young, just like the pure bred wolves, but Cara was more akin to vampires and the bitten wolves; she had to learn what she was all over again.

Sensing Kalidir’s muscles tense before his blade moved, she was ready as it whistled through the air. She defended myself easily, stepping lightly out of the way of most attacks, and blocking those she couldn’t avoid. They didn’t often touch each other anymore, few blows found their mark, though not for lack of trying. She ducked under Kalidir’s strike, aiming her own blow at his back. He’s twisted around her before her blade got near, and she lost her balance for a second. She recovered quickly, though, rolling out of his way and leaping back to her feet.

Cara enjoyed the feel of the sword vibrating in her hand as it met her opponent’s blade again, despite how often Kalidir tried to press upon her that fighting was a dangerous dance, that sparring prepared her for war. He told her time and again that her new skills weren’t just for self defence, that they were for the taking of lives. He asked often if she thought herself just enough to choose who would die, if she was fair enough to show mercy before taking a life. She replied saying she didn’t want to kill. She told him she avoid needing to decide whether to destroy or show mercy whenever possible. In response, her teacher reminded her that she was Nekyra, the last of the elahdrilas, and she would kill. Her soul knew it, even if she didn't, and so she sparred with him.

As she swung her sword at Kalidir, she saw her flicker into existence over his shoulder, the beautiful blond with the face of a seventeen year old maid and a soul older than the hills. Her gloved hand reached out, grabbing a length of red hot metal from a flaming brazier. She laughed, mocking, tormenting, and Cara could see it even though she couldn’t hear the words. The Lady admired her instrument of choice as she stepped forward.

Forgeting Kalidir, Cara watched Ric’s sire in bewilderment. The her friend swerved at the last second to avoid wounding his pupil, while her sword dropped from her hand and she lost all awareness of the barn. She gazed around the dark basement of her vision, her skin crawling with the prickling heat radiating from the brazier. The metallic smell of too much spilled blood tainted the air, and she watched in dismay as the Lady stepped closer to Ric, as he hung, shirtless, bruised, and bloody, from chains attached to the wall.

His maker's eyes were manic as she grabbed his chin, forcing his mouth open with fingers like talons.  He pushed back hard against the wall, trying to get away from her, but he had nowhere to go. He screamed as she pushed the burning metal against his tongue, his arms tugging desperately at the chains which bound him, causing the shackles to cut deeply, bloodily, into his wrists. 

Cara was vaguely aware of screaming along with him, yelling that she'd do anything to make the Lady stop. But the Lady couldn't hear her as she pulled the burning metal from her victim's mouth. The scent of scorched flesh sickened Cara as the Lady drew her instrument of torture down Ric's chest, sneering all the while as he writhed in agony. She sobbed, tears coming thick and fast as the Lady pulled a knife from her belt and plunged it into his abdomen, making him holler in pain again. His legs gave way and he dangled from the wall like a rag doll, blood flowing freely to pool on the floor under his bare feet. The Lady laughed, as hard as Cara screamed.

She didn’t feel his pain but his fear hit her in waves, broiling, bubbling waves of primordial terror. Rational thoughts had slipped beyond him, leaving only desperate urges to run despite the chains, to shuffle away from his tormentor even though he couldn’t go anywhere. He wanted to curl up, to protect his pierced abdomen and shield his scorched torso. He wanted to rip his own tongue from his head just to make the burning stop.

The Lady, with her abilities, felt his emotions as clearly as Cara did, and to her dismay, Ric’s sire revelled in his suffering. She rand her hands over his body, touching him with mock sensuality until her palm came to rest over his lower rib cage. With a snarl and all her vampire strength, the Lady pushed forward and Cara heard a sharp snap as two of Ric’s ribs fractured. He gasped, his eyes squeezing shut automatically as he struggled against her onslaught.

As the Lady moved her hands over his chest again, ready to break the opposite set of ribs, Cara implored, “Please, stop!” 

Although The Lady couldn't hear her, she felt the jolt of awareness judder through Ric and he lifted his beaten face to gaze back at her. Tears fill his eyes as he whispered on word.

“Don’t...”

The Lady thought the word was meant for her, a plea to stop, and she chortled ever more heartily as she shattered two more ribs. Cara loathed her, more than she had  ever loathed anyone.

As the apparition faded, she heard Kalidir calling her name with the urgency of someone who’d been trying attract attention for some time. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor hard, but she couldn’t speak as Kalidir hunkered beside her, wanting to know what I’d seen. Her chest wheezes as she struggled to draw breath between her gasping sobs of fear and anger. She couldn’t get the basement and the image of Ric, her Ric, chained there out of her head.

As Kalidir pulled her into his arms, a jolt like electricity jumped between them and everything she'd seen, the pictures she couldn't describe, thundered into his mind’s eye.  Cara didn’t mean to throw the appalling scene at him, but as fraught emotion took hold, she couldn't stop herself from showing him exactly what had befallen Ric.

Kalidir’s face turned white, his eyes wide as he held her tighter. He possessed no words to calm or comfort, no way to assure her that it’d be alright. Instead, he sat with her for three hours, on the cold barn floor, while she sobbed hysterically against his shoulder. By the time she ran out of tears, her eyelids were spotted with burst blood vessels, her face was puffy and grotesque. But even when she could weep no more, Kalidir held her, rocking gently as she slumped against his chest, exhausted and weak. The were still sat in the same position when Luke returned. He dropped the jars of blood and ran to them, noticing her haunted face and Kalidir’s haggard expression.

“What happened?” Luke asked as he crouched down next to then.

Cara shook her head and gulped, trying to stop a new storm of tears which threatened to rise, alongside the knot of anguish which formed in stomach her and blocked her throat.

“It’s Ric,” Kalidir answered, covering her ears as if he could save her from this news.

“Its always Ric...” he muttered, not understanding.

Kalidir shook his head, his own dismay clear in his horrified expression. “No Luke, you don’t understand. She,” he emphasised the word as if it would reveal the truth, “She caught him.”

The vampire’s face grew solemn as he realised the importance of what she'd seen.
“The Lady, has she killed him yet?” 

Cara's head jerked up in alarm and she uttered an unintelligible yelp of panic.
“Not that you know of, then, poor man...” Luke responded.

“You wouldn’t want to see what she’s doing to him,” Kalidir affirmed despondently.
Luke took one of  Cara's hands, squeezing it in an ineffectual attempt to console. “I take it Nekyra saw though.”

She felt Kalidir nod and Luke squeezed her hand again. Her head felt heavy from crying, and her throat was as dry as sandpaper. Her head thumped and her limbs felt as though they had been made of lead.  She couldn’t accept Ric’s torture, never mind his death. She didn’t know how to face the world while he was being abused or murdered.

“We need to help him,” she croaked as she hauled herself away from Kalidir and force herself to sit upright, repeating, “We need to help him.”

Both men donned expressions which forbade her to even contemplate such an action.

“The Lady will have many guards and all her homes are warded against elahdril magic,” Kalidir answered. “We wouldn’t be able to use sorcery within her walls. We’d never get in alive, never mind get Ric out. We don’t even know where she’s holding him, Nekyra. What you would do is reckless and foolhardy. You’re too important to risk yourself that way. If you even attempted a rescue you’d be killed.”

Cara knew the warnings were logical. Prohibiting any attempt to find Ric made sense... But love wasn’t logical and she couldn’t accept it.

“I must try,” she insisted.

“Kyra, even Ric said ‘don’t’. He doesn’t want you to try and go to him, he appreciates that your life is too valuable,” her teacher answered with a shake of his head.
“He’s going to die!” she cried disbelievingly. Surely they couldn’t expect her to sit there and ignore Ric’s plight?

Luke stood, turning his back on her as he went to retrieve the discarded blood, saying simply, “Then he’ll die.”

Her temper rose at that, quickly reaching boiling point. She leapt after Luke, turning his to face her then hooking him in the jaw.  His teeth clattered together at her unexpected act of violence, and his fangs descended in anger before he could recover his restraint. He touched the quickly forming bruise gingerly, eyeing her in reproach.

“He might already be dead by the time we arrived, princess,” he counselled stiffly.

That didn't dissuade Cara as she turned on Kalidir, desperation in her voice. “He angered her for our people! He infuriated her by leaving her to avoid fighting us, and now you would leave him to his fate?”

The elahdril guard focussed, shame-faced, on the floor.

“That was a long time ago Nekyra. There’s nothing we can do. Even if we went to him, her properties are always warded to prevent the use of sorcery. You’re glamour may hold... It’s happened before, when glamours have become so integral to those who wear them that they almost stop being sorcery. Your curse might be your strength, but we cant know for sure. Everything else though, any other magic...” He shook his head. “Her wards will prevent it. You wouldn’t be able to phase out of her lair, and nor would I.”

As Kalidir spoke, Anthony blundered in, arms heavy with bags of food. He stopped to glance between Luke’s bruised chin, Cara's bruised fist and tear stained face, and Kalidir’s hangdog expression.

“Ok, what’s happened this time.”

Cara trembled in anger.

“I’m surrounded by hypocrites,” she spat in venomous hurt. “You all want a hero to follow but none of you will fight for what’s right.”

Stomping back to her stall, Cara sat in the gloom, making ball after ball of furious blue flame in her hands before letting each one die into nothing. She watched the swirling masses of flickering ultramarine flare in her palm, fuelled by the tumult of emotion engulfing her. Fear, anger, and her own shame warred through her. Shame at not having the strength to fight for Ric alone, guilt for hitting Luke, and regret for as good as calling Kalidir a coward. Those people were her friends. They were only trying to protect her.

But perhaps she had grown a little tired of being protected.

She remained there, still forming burning balls of blue fire, even when Kalidir finally joined her. He sat in selence for a time, watching the fire lighting and extinguishing in her hands.

“You’re getting good at that.”

“I’m improving,” she snapped back, still angry and hating herself for the ice in her tone.

His shoulders sagged and he slumped sorrowfully against the wall.

“I am sorry, Kyra.”

Wilting, she accepted that, knowing he regretted that he couldn’t give in to her. He regretted that Ric left. He regretted that she and Ric were so tied together. Most of all, he regrets not being at her childhood home on the night her parents died.

Kalidir had told her once that he’d been among her father’s personal guards, but three nights before her father was killed, he'd been commanded back to Galahidras to protect an already dying king, her grandfather. Kalidir blamed himself for her family’s murder, and for setting her feet on the path she'd walked. He told himself daily that he should’ve disobeyed my father’s orders and stayed with them, yet he couldn't understand her anguish.

“Kalidir, my friend, think about the anguish you feel over my father’s death. You’ll wish until your own end that you had been there to defend us, and if I don’t go to Ric, then I’ll always regret not trying to save him.”

“It was my duty to protect your parents,” the elf warrior responded, not ready to concede.

She nodded at his response but she knew his pain ran deeper than one of failed duty.

“Yes, but you followed your orders. That was also your duty, yet it doesn't alleviate your guilt. You fret daily over my father’s demise because you loved and respected him as a brother, not because you had a duty to perform.”

Kalidir sighed, picking at the cords which tie the leather guards to his arms as he mulled over her claim.

“That is true, my lady, and for love of him I would not watch his daughter throw away her life. You’ve told me before that if I’d been there that night I’d be nothing more than another corpse. You’ve told me before that I am more use alive now than I would’ve been defending your family back then. I beg you to heed your own words. If you go to Ric, you will become one more corpse. One more unacknowledged elahdrilas heir. You are more use alive... and with all my heart I know I can't lose you.”

Yet such words of wisdom do not stop him wishing he’d been at her home that Christmas Eve. No more than such words made it easy for her to sit there and let Ric die. Cara felt as though she'd condemned the man she loved, as though she was personally responsible for what he would be made to suffer.

She and Kalidir fell silent as they leaned back against the rough stone of the stall wall. They sat in silence, mourning their failures to save the people most important to us. When Kalidir finally left, she curled up on her bed, falling into a fitful sleep. In her mind, she saw prince Dalahan, alive and riding hard through the fields of the Mundane Realm. He pulled his steed to a stop outside a small cottage, and Rebecca ran from the door and into his arms.

“My love,” he murmured into her hair.

“They will kill you if they find you’ve come to me,” Rebecca whimpered, foreboding in her voice.

“Then I will die, my love. There is no honour in fearing death, especially a fear that keeps me from you.”

‘There is no honour in fearing death’, he echoed Sir Ulrich’s words to the Lady.