Forgotten Heir: Realm Doors Book One

Chapter Twenty Three

They called those who'd lost someone in one at a time to give them the news, speaking to Marcus first as he’d lost more than anyone. He came into the stall, eyes tight with concern already predicting their news.

“There was an attack, yes? One of the portals? My fiancé?”

Cara struggled to meet Marcus’s eye as Anthony explained the extent of the attack on Blutholme, as he apologised profusely and told a silently despairing man that both his fiancée and their child had been killed. The silence that followed the announcement felt as poignant as anything anyone could’ve said. She read the guilt of a father who hadn’t been there to protect his family in his expression, sensed the blame he fired at her for not being ready to save his people.

Marcus's emotions spiralled; pure rage and uncomprehending denial twisting through him, until a dull acceptance settle over him, bringing with it a total hopelessness. A hopelessness that had Marcus on his knees, harsh sobs breaking from him as his shoulders shook and his eyes bleeding the vampire tears she’d only ever seen from Ric.

She realised how much a testament tears were to a vampire’s love, and felt her own tears well. She wanted to cry with him, for a women she’d never met and a babe who would never grow up. Cara sunk to the floor beside Marcus, tenderly reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched away and the accusations shone in his expression again.

“You were supposed to stop this,” his voice grated, low, and dangerous despite the hollowness growing behind his eyes. “That was why we came here.”

She tried again to touch him, taking his resisting hand in hers.

“I am sorry, Marcus, that I was not ready in time. Nothing I say or do will ever bring back your partner or your child, nothing will bring back Arianna for Ric, or Luke for me. Please believe me when I say I will do anything I can to stop this being repeated.”

His expression remained unbelieving, despairing, and Cara saw Marcus give up. Without his family he was nothing, he had nothing to fight for, and while anger might heft a sword for him in the coming weeks, without hope he would submit to anyone who’d seek conquer him. It was a brutal understanding.

“What could you do now?”

Cara held his hand tighter, telling him, “I will go to Galahidras, I will try to take my throne and raise an army to protect the other wives and girlfriends, the few other children, the sires and those they sired. I want Ric to go to Blutholme and help in anyway he can there, and I want to fight, Marcus, for everyone who has died.”

The hard planes of his face softened and tears welled again as he croaked, “They were innocent, they should not have died.”

Pulling him towards her, Cara held him close, grateful when he didn’t wince or pull away. His brow rested on her shoulder as he wept. Her arm steadied his trembling torso, her hand stroking his hair, and she wished she could take his pain and make it hers so he wouldn't have to feel. Marcus lived Ric’s fears, left behind with nothing left to live for.

How did people move on from such a loss?

She thought of her family, bleeding onto the floor of her home, their faces becoming her nightmares. She thought of Rebecca, trapped in some tomb in Galahidras watching over the body of a man she loved. Then she thought of how she’d felt when Kalidir said Ric was beyond her help, chained in the Lady’s dungeon. Perhaps people never moved on from losing someone. Perhaps the best anyone achieved was locking their memories away in a place the could visit regularly but not dwell on, because to dwelling meant burning, crying, and sometimes hatred.

“Too much innocent blood has paid for prejudice. Very few deserved to die.”

Marcus raised his head, his eyes brimmed red and swollen.

“My daughter was only a year old, my lady. Why was her blood the cost of this hate, which she knew nothing of?”

Cara shook her head, unable to answer.

Why had her unborn brother’s blood been the price her family paid? Or her father’s blood? Or her mother’s blood? Ryan’s sire’s blood? Why, that morning, had Vargon’s life been the price of her people’s prejudice? He had been no innocent, but that didn't change that a life had been extinguished in the name of hate.

“I cannot give you answers, Marcus, only questions that echo yours.”

“Give me something else instead?” he asked tentatively. “Save those you can... And help those you can’t to find peace. I cannot go on without them”

Her heart stuttered and another ball of lead choked her.

“What are you asking of me?” she whispered, even though she already knew.
His clear eyes met hers and the waves of hopeless sorrow there lapped at her, anguish which, for an immortal, would be unceasing.

“I have lived many centuries and I do not fear my end, I believe your kind call what I want ‘slipping into shade’. Please... You will be a compassionate queen; have mercy and help me leave this world of loss. There is nothing left for me to defend.”

Cara wanted to run, to say no, but behind his eyes she saw the same look Rebecca had worn in her dream, as she asked if she’d come to kill her; a need for release. She understood it. After all, could she live without Ric? No. No, she couldn't. Yet she remained conflicted. She didn’t want a good man’s death on her hands, but she understood why he asked it of her.

“Please,” he murmured again. “I am no use to you now.”

Her gaze dropped and she blinked away further heartbroken tears.

“In the morning, before I leave for Galahidras, if you still feel that this is the only way forward, then I will grant your request. I would ask you to live, though; just long enough to help me ensure other fathers don't feel what you feel, to ensure other daughters don't feel what I felt when I witnessed my parents’ murder, and to ensure no other sire feels as Ric feels now... But I understand if you feel you cannot.”
Marcus was only the start.

Wolfram sat, unmoving and silent, as they told him of Gracie’s death. He’d only just sired her to save her from the aggressive cancer she’d recently been diagnosed with. He didn’t look at Cara as he informed her he'd follow Ric back to Blutholme and help raise an army. He swore to fight and die to defend his realm. He harboured the same condemnation as Marcus, though. While he’d use his fury to fight the werewolves, he loathed her for a loss she should’ve been able to prevent.

When Wolfram left, she glanced miserably at Anthony.

“They’re all going to blame me, aren’t they?”

“Not all,” he responded in a tine that did little to comfort. “I don’t. Ric doesn’t. Nor will most. But Marcus and Wolfram have lost much and they will need time. It’s easier to lash out at you than at the wolves who are truly responsible.”

With a resigned sigh, she nodded and called for Elizabetta.

The older woman cried to start with, when she learned her husband had be slain. Then she told Cara to be strong and to do her job. She told her she’d promised her husband that she would look after the youngsters he’d sired if anything happened to him, and that she had to leave. Then, just like that, she vanished from the Mundane Realm into Blutholme. Cara found her reaction more shocking than any of the others.

Ryan proved to be a different kettle of fish again. He didn’t respond at all to the news of his sire's execution, except to glance from Cara, to Anthony, and back to her before turning and leaving the stall to find Haldriene. He’d had a really bad day, and she suspected the whole sorry state of affairs might take some time sink in for him.

Kalidir stepped into the stall shortly after Ryan's departure, his expression as grim as any other.

“They want to talk to you, my queen. They want to hear what you have to say.”

Cara rubbed her tired eyes as her other hand ran through her hair. She felt exhausted already, and for the first time in her life, she felt the true weight of her heritage.
Kalidir lifted her chin gently.

“Ah, young one, you’ve aged ten years in a few hours. You will get through this, much like you’ve gotten through everything else.”

With pain and scars, she wondered.

“Come on then,” she breathed, pulling herself to her feet. “Let’s go meet the firing squad.” 

She turned her back to her tutor as she step out of the stall, not looking at him as she asked, “Is Ric  there? He’s blocking me.”

“Yes, he’s there,” Kalidir confirmed. “He's determinedly not saying a word to anyone, but he's present.”

With another weary sigh, Cara headed towards the main barn, into the roar of questions that erupted the moment she stepped through the door. Suddenly, hiding under a rock seemed like a wonderful way to live her life. A voice in her head yelled that it wasn't her place to stand before then grieving vampires, it said it wasn’t fair, that she shouldn’t be held responsible for the congregated people and what for Blutholme.

Yet she couldn't deny her lineage, nor that the prophecies existed. Her ancestry ensure some elves looked to her, and the prophecies ensured some vampires did the same. For better or worse, since Tyrnir almost killed Ric and she’d connected with the world, Cara had accepted she possessed great power. That strength ensured her a role in the war and a duty to her nation and Ric’s. She’d accepted the inevitable and couldn’t cower at the first sign of trouble. Not then. Not after everything. When it came down to it, for Ric, she’d see Blutholme free. In taking responsibility of Ric’s future, she’d accepted responsibility for every vampire’s future.
Gods help her.

Cara held up her hand and silence fells in the barn. She looked out over the sea of bronze and silver eyes, only just catching the glint of the solitary, champagne gold pair watching her intently. What would her forefathers have said to these people? How could she hope to become a queen fit to lead? A leader who’d inspire?

“I don’t have the power to comfort you,” she started slowly, talking to the vampires. “But I do share your grief. Even those of you who have not lost a friend or a family member had something taken away from you last night; a bit more of your freedom, a little more of your hope. I promised someone once that if he starved in Blutholme I would starve with him, and I pray you can see the honesty in those words. Know that I will fight for you. If you are victorious, I shall be victorious. If you fail then I have failed.”
The elahdril murmured unhappily and Cara watched the faces of her kind crease in expressions of bewildered betrayal. Did they still believe she'd abandon them in order to fight alongside vampires? Didn't they understand if Blutholme fell they would all fall?

“Like it or not, our nations futures are linked. The wolves are attacking small and defenceless villages in Galahidras while Heliana does nothing to protect our people. The wolves are making us weaker, keeping us afraid. When they have conquered Blutholme, who do you think they would conquer next? The mortal world, which they could easily enslave at any time? Or the elahdril world which they fear will rise against them?

“It is many years since our warrior nation lost its strength; the weakening of the elahdrilas is only a reflection of the weakening of our realm as a whole. If we are to survive, we need vampire support as much as they need ours. Alone we are nothing but an already lost cause. Strength can only be found and wielded by being together in this.”

Sagging, her elahdril audience gave in, while the vampires nodded at her words; they’d known the truth all along, even though her own people had been blind.
“Tomorrow, I go to Galahidras.”

At her announcement, over fifty faces suddenly became curious.

“Kalidir has arranged for me to go safely to Karycadra, from there I hope to find support enough to secure my reign when the time comes to challenge Heliana. I’m asking Sir Ulrich, to go back to Blutholme and help raise an army there, to co-ordinate your people and prepare them to prevent another slaughter such as that which happened last night. Once our forces are ready and I have control of Galahidras, we will stand together against Lunescape. We will fight as one, as always should’ve been the case.”

Another of the decaders raised his hand, as if still in school, asking, “The wolves sealed off Alderburgh... What if they manage to seal off the realm?”

“I doubt they will have the ability to seal off Blutholme for some time,” Cara answered. “The sorceress who sealed off the city didn’t seem capable of doing more than that.”

She searched for Ric in the crowd again, his unreadable face staring back at her with cool eyes. Her gaze met his, earnest, pleading for him to understand.

“If they do succeed then I will find a way to break down the walls. I will find a way into Blutholme. The wolves only hope is to exterminate all of us, because as long as I breathe and there is life in Blutholme - even starving life - I will do everything in my power to keep the realms open.”

A few cast glances from her, to Ric, and back again, and she saw in their slight nods that they believed her.

Another hand went up, an elahdril woman looking expectantly at her queen.

“What do you wish us to do, my lady?”

Cara chewed her lip a second before answering, mulling over her next step.

“I will not ask any vampire to go back to Blutholme if they really do not wish to go.”
Except for Ric, she thought, because he remained the best hope they had for a co-ordinated vampire defence.

“Returning to your realm will be dangerous. Those who want to go with Ric and help would be appreciated, those who wish to make their own way can do so with my best wishes, and those who wish to stay here, or call their families here for a time, may do that as well. As of yet, the wolves don’t know about this place and you should be safe for a while, though I cannot say how long we’ll remain hidden. This place should offer a temporary haven, if any of you wish.

“As for the elahdril? We cannot all go back to Galahidras at once, it would be too suspicious, so I suggest you follow back in over the space of a few weeks. Once home, wait for my command or do what you can to find those willing to offer me their support, but don't take unnecessary risks. Perhaps continue to communicate through Tyrnir, as that would be safer than coming directly to myself or Kalidir. Be ready to join me if I successfully take the throne.

“I know it isn’t much, and I know we need to develop a strategy to defend both our realms and defeat the threat, but this is all I have to offer you now. It is my promise. I will give everything I can give to save us all. The colour of your eyes, what you feed upon to live, whether you adore the moon or relish the sun; none of it matters at all to me. I serve each of you, and fervently hope you know that I will give my best for you.”

Sythiel stepped forward and knelt, her head bowed in respect.

“Then we will give our best for you as well, my queen. As is our duty.”

“As is our duty!”

The words rippled through the elahdril as they dropped as one to their knees, just as Sythiel had done. They were Cara's people, and they put their trust in her determination. Who else could they follow when Heliana seemed incapable of admitting the truth, that the wolves threatened Galahidras?

The vampires scrutinised the kneeling warriors and the queen they bowed before, the girl destined to call Galahidras to arms in order to save Blutholme.

“Lead,” Ryan called, “and I will follow.”

He dropped to his knee beside Haldriene, and Cara smiled as the girls hand found his.

Other vampires knelt too, offering their respect, calling their willingness to follow her until the entire room bowed before her. Only Ric, Kalidir, and Anthony, remained standing; three men with no need to show obeisance to her because their loyalty would never be questioned.

Cara looked over her little band, the beginnings of her army, in awe. She was trusted, and she drew strength from that. Perhaps uniting the nations would be possible.
Kalidir ducked out of the barn as she indicated for her people to rise, coming back with something long and bundled in cloth.

“I have something for you, my lady. Something that Sythiel brought with her when she arrived. It's a gift from my father, something he found in the vaults under Karycadra while searching through the books of prophecy written about you. I wasn’t sure you were ready to be Nekyra of Rhynlas before, but now...?” He hunkered down, unwrapping the bundle. “I think it’s time you had a sword that was meant for you.”

Not one but two swords lay within the folds of fabric which he unfurled at her feet, two swords in sheathes barely scuffed by age, with gilt edges only slightly dulled by lack of care. With a little love, the weapons would be more beautiful than any she’d seen.

The sheaths were covered in deep red leather, a twisting plaque of gold sweeping around the scabbard in-between borders of silver filigree, from the silver chape to the gilt locket. On the plaque, some long dead craftsman had engraved words written in both elahdrilian and vampire glyphs. The phrase caused Cara’s breath to catch.