A/N: Yeah, so, I'm just warning ya: Death is here.
People die. Not really explicit, but if you have a problem with it,
I think you might want to leave. Actually, if you've read this story
this far without going, "Hm, she's a freak," I think you can handle this
chapter. BTW, this chapter actually takes place before the last one.
There's a reason why I placed the chapters that way they are. I promise.
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Daja's POV:
I leaned back into my chair, twisting my neck before I heard it pop in several places. Sucking hard on my teeth, I glanced sideways at my companion, whose head was in his hands, messy black hair tangled and flopping over his hands. I frowned before asking, "How's it going, buddy?"
"I feel. . . like shit," he replied, his voice sounding rugged and weary. Looking up, I could see sleep deprived, blood-shot eyes and a disgruntle expression. He motioned to the bar tender to get him another ale before he put his head back into his hands.
Shaking my head, I took a swig from my drink before sighing darkly. Looking around my settings, I could make out the hazy atmosphere of The Love Bird Tavern, a place for young couples to rest after a long day of vacationing in Nidra Island. Chuckling to myself, I knew that Briar and me didn't appear much like a couple right then, looking sick and half-drunk. Briar thought it would be a good idea that we disguise ourselves as newlyweds to avoid any "unwanted attention." Something about people that he knew that he couldn't trust. Plus, there might be people from this Blaze looking for us.
However, we were putting on an unsuccessful show. I was about to say something about this to Briar, but, taking one glance at him, I kept my mouth shut. The poor fellow was wallowing in enough misery.
Not that I wasn't seriously pissed and incredibly distraught myself. Feeling Sandry and Tris die was like taking a knife and stabbing into my rib cage before slicing it upward into my heart. It had started like a sick nausea, but it was soon followed by utter heartache and trauma.
I remember thinking I wanted to die right then and there. Clutching my heart, breathing heavy, Frostpine had looked at me as if I was dying, as I sat there crying on the forge floor, tears flowing freely. He obviously didn't know. No one could except for Briar and myself. No one could know unless they knew our bond.
Even I couldn't understand Briar's total grief. It was something so foreign to myself that I couldn't even begin to comprehend it. So, I simply steered clear of it.
Hearing Briar groan in what sounded like utter frustration next to me, I followed suite. If we had learned one thing the entire four days we had been in Nidra Island, it was this: The west side of the market was big. No, it was huge. There must have been a hundred twists and turns everywhere, at least several hundred alleyways.
And, even if we did find this alleyway that Sandry and Tris had disappeared into, there was no knowing what we had to do. Briar, supposedly, said that he had a clue that would help us gain access to this cult, but I was guessing that he was about as clueless as I was.
In fact, he was turning over the inscription that was supposed to get us where we were trying to go. However, from the look on his face and the furrow of his brow, I could tell he was concentrating hard and confused. But, I also saw something else there. Something like unwavering determination, flawless devotion, pure motivation. I smiled somewhat bitter-sweetly before clearing my throat. He looked up at me slowly, his eyes glittering dully.
He closed his eyes slowly before grunting. Then, placing his hands on the bar, he lifted himself up and started walking towards the door. I knew what that meant. We were going to look for the alleyway again. For the third time today.
Sighing, I stretched my aching limbs, laying some money on the counter and winking at the bar tender before following my new "husband" outside the tavern and into the hot Nidran sun.
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"We've already been down this alleyway, Briar."
"No, we ain't."
"No, we haven't; I thought you gave up that street talk a long time ago."
Briar spun hard on his heels before glaring at me. "Would you shut-up? We ain't really married, you know." He snapped it, showing his obvious impatience. Both our nerves had been frazzled due to the endless walking and sticky temperature.
Frowning at him, I sighed before tugging on one of my braids. Looking around the alleyway, I shook my head darkly. The allyway looked too familiar to me. Stacks of boxes were thrown messily around, garbage was discarded sloppily and the place smelled of mold and rotting food. Of course, most alleyways looked the same.
Looking up at the sky, I could see the sun setting, orange, red, and blazing. A pale ghost of a moon was breathed across the horizon, evidence that the night would be on us soon. The scene was stunning but something about it made my stomach turn. It was stunning but also absolutely. . . dangerous.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I called over to Briar, who was pacing through the alleyway, "I think we should start heading back to the Tavern now. The streets aren't a nice place to be when it's dark, ya know?" I turned to look at him, only to find him perfectly still, his shocking green eyes boring into the inscription of the ancient gold necklace. His face was obvious evidence that he was zoned out, his concentration pouring out solidly. Pursing my lips together, I observed him silently, and after not getting any sort of answer for a minute, I mumbled quietly, "And maybe you're not even listening." Walking over to him, I glanced over his shoulder at the inscription.
There was only one major inscription in the center of the pendant which
I had read numerous times. I repeated it in my head:
"Behind the darkened hall,
with the eyes so bright,
There shall be a man's call,
and a garden shall be in sight.
Oh, down the lonesome stairs,
hurry, in case you loose will,
past the dead and their glares,
you will reach the Blaze Hill."
But, as I read it again, I noticed something different about it. There seemed to be an odd detailing around the edges of the pendent. Almost like. . .
Reaching my arm around Briar, I ran my finger over the edge of the pendant, removing rust and debris. And something odd suddenly emerged.
I heard Briar suck in some air before stating, "Never saw that 'fore." He rubbed his calloused hands over the outside of the pendant. Words started to appear slowly, just barely legible. And then, after a bit of scrubbing, a whole long sentence like the verse in the middle appeared.
Licking my lips, I squinted my eyes at the inscription. Exchanging looks with Briar, I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me.
"I can barely make it out, but I think it says," he started before commencing:
"And lo! If anything I learned it would be this:
Beneath scars, tissue, and tears,
That although life may, at times, be bliss,
and, often, an overcomence of fears,
The most basic of truths will conquer all;
will meet all at the end.
It will always grab a hand at a fall,
whether lover or friend.
It is at times, not always like a song of a dove,
but it is the truth. . .
And the truth is love."
We stood there, silenced and feeling quite awkward all of sudden, as if we had crossed some line that should not be crossed. Briar's eyes bore into the inscription, intense and raw. And, at that second, as I observed him, I felt as I was on the outside looking in. Something had happened to him at the second that I couldn't explain, as if a revelation from heaven had dawned on his mind. It looked, if I could possibly explain it, like someone waking up for the first time in their life.
Blinking, I stared at him for a long time before looking back at the inscription. I read it again. And again. Finally, after scratching my head, I bit my lip and asked quietly, "What does it mean? I mean, what does it have to do with anything?"
He looked up at me, his eyes bleary and yet vivid. He blinked slowly before a thin smile crawled on his face (which, despite being weary and the flops of tangled black hair crawling in his intense eyes, looked extremely handsome.) Then, quite suddenly, he turned on his heel and stared hard at the wall at the back of the alley. He stared at it for what felt like forever. A bead of sweat fell down my forehead and into my eyes, but I ignored it. Instead, I simply looked from the wall to Briar, not fully understanding but getting an inkling of a guess. . .
And the truth is love. . .
Then, suddenly, Briar spoke, his throat dry and crackled. It sounded like a whisper at first, but I heard it.
Soft but increasing in tone, he said, "Hear me, Eyes So Bright. I know you're there. Don't pretend that you won't grant me access. You know that you will. You gotta."
Suddenly, in a mere second after Briar spoke, two red eyes glanced vividly from over the stack of boxes. It stared at us closely before blinking. I felt my insides flip over in surprise, and I reached over and touched Briar's arm in surprise. He ignored me, his eyes blazing, a twisted grin on his face. A crazed look was plastered on his face.
Swallowing thickly, I breathed to Briar, "What the hell is going on?" He silenced me with his hand, but touched my arm reassuringly.
Taking a step forward, he called out again, "This is your garden? Stacks of boxes and litter? " Frowning Briar shook his head before shrugging. Then, a slight chuckle emulated from his lips.
Staring up at him wide-eyed, I was for sure that he might have lost some sense under the hot Nidran Sun. Raising an appraising eyebrow, I returned my stare to the back wall. The red eyes that peered at both of us, or rather, stared through us, sent a shiver through my spine. It was as if I was going through a silent interrogation, one that I had no control over my answers or whether I wished to answer truthfully.
Briar's head snapped back up and stared hard at the gaze. He was thoughtfully silent before he stated, "You know why I'm here. Now, you will grant us passage. You can't deny us. You know you can't, and you won't." He said that last sentence much like a father would command his child, and his eyes blazed.
Then, the strangest thing that could possibly happen, happened. The eyes disappeared for a second, and I thought for an instant that it might have been all a sick dream. But it wasn't, for the next second, something like a rush of air pressed through the alleyway. A steady wind blew in our faces, and I had to squint to see clearly. Briar grabbed my hand, pulling me against the wind. I struggled against the pressure of the wind, but I finally made a few steps foreword. Then, the wind burst unexpectedly, making me close my eyes, hands up at my face to shield from the blinding force. Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes, spilling out and flowing down my face, just to be dried and swept away by the tumbling, roaring wind.
And then it stopped. Not the slightest zephyr was evidence of the gigantic wind that had swept through the alleyway. My eyes fluttered open after a few hesitant seconds, not fully believing that it was all over. I blinked my eyes slowly, looking around the alleyway. The boxes were completely gone and in their place was rich moss-like ground with small, twig-like flowers growing from them. It reminded me of the fields that I saw in the Namorn Empire in late summer. No trees grew, but dazzling small bushes and vibrant flowers flourished.
"They weren't kidding about the garden, were they?" I heard Briar stammer, his voice sounding half in awe and half in sarcastic observation.
Letting go of his hand, I turned sharp on my heel, just to blink in shock. The passage that used to open up to the alleyway was blocked by a thick stone wall. My mouth opened to state this to Briar, but I was interrupted quite suddenly by a thick, guttural voice.
"Congratulations. You have found the entrance to Blaze Hill."
Biting my lip, I turned slowly, something in the voice reaching to my very bones, shaking my insides. When I turned completely, I was standing parallel to Briar, who was looking intensely ahead, his lips pursed.
Swallowing, I followed his gaze before my eyes rested on a figure, skinny and fragile. To the casual onlooker, it might seem like a frail older man, leaning on a smooth wooden cane, his right leg slightly shorter than the other. His knotted hands were wrinkled but surprisingly strong as they rubbed the top of his cane. He looked like another grandfather, strong and wise.
But there were two things. His eyes. And the dog that sat at his side.
The eyes, glazed and pale. He was obviously blind, for he rarely blinked and I noticed that he didn't look directly at us, but rather past us. Yet, they were not grotesque or almost spooky. Rather, they were. . . wise, for lack of a better word. In them, you saw the wisdom of many years, the knowledge that few men posses, discernment shining true in the blankness of those eyes.
Yet the dog. Ragged thing it was, flea bitten and scruffy. But the dog looked at you the same way the older man looked at you. Yet, its eyes were not blind and glazed. Instead, they were a shining, glowing red.
The dog never looked anywhere except Briar. I could have yelled, screamed, cried, but its eyes would never have wavered. Grinding my teeth, I stared from the old man to the dog for awhile before asking quietly, "Who are you?"
The old man chuckled. "Who am I? That is something that can take a lifetime to answer, my child. I can answer, but it will take quite a long time, and even then, words are hardly adequate for a question such as that." A slight, crooked smile graced his lips. "However, you may ask me what I am called."
"What are you called?" Briar asked sharply, startling me. I had almost forgotten that he was there; the old man's eyes had engrossed me so.
Rubbing his cane some more, the old man seemed to concentrate before saying slowly, "They --humph-- called me Broken Spirit in the Blaze," he raised his thick eyebrows before continuing, "but you may call me Azakil."
Briar looked down at me, his eyes squinted before he looked back up. "All right, Azakil. Help us out here and answer a few questions. Do you know how to get to this Blaze Hill?"
"Yes." The old man said no more.
Briar's shoulders slumped in frustration, obviously not amused by the man's blunt answer. Rolling his eyes, he ran a tired hand through his hair before giving me an exasperated look and releasing a sigh.
I offered Briar a sympathetic smile. Sucking in a lungful of hair, I dared a step closer. Azakil did nothing. Giving him a once-over, I started, "Could you tell us how to get there. . . sir?" I added the last part hastily, unsure how to address him.
The old man finally smiled toothily, shaking his head. "Ah," he started shaking his head slowly, "what a polite child you are, Daja Kisubo. Of course, you always have been. Good to your parents. Ah, yes. Tragic that they died before they could see the beautiful young woman you are today. Pity."
His words hit me like a brick wall. Reeling back, I blinked at Azakil, uneasiness turning in my stomach. My eyes were wide, and I struggled for words, my mouth opening and closing like a earthed fish.
A hand clamped on my shoulder, almost in a protecting way. Looking up, I goggled at Briar, who was staring intently at the man. He was frowning, but in his face I saw apparent confusion.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Azakil. We don't know this Daja you speak of," Briar said coolly. So coolly, I almost believed him for a second.
The old man simply chortled at Briar before smiling. "And you, Briar Moss! I see you've finally come. I knew that our time was drawing to a close. Ah, but it's all like it should be, I suppose. Things can never live if they never die, eh? Well, one thing's for sure: How She's been preparing for you! Hah! Like She can stop it. Stop you, stop fate. Foolishness, mere child's thinking. Of course, I've been telling Her this for years, but, alas, She simply will not listen. . ."
His hand gripped me harder. "How do you know my name?" His voice was stiff but at the same time surprised.
Azakil's smile became broader. "You're quite famous at the Blaze, Briar Moss. Have been ever since your birth, I'm afraid. We've been expecting you for --what has it been?-- about two hundred years now."
"What?!" Briar's voice was failing him now, sounding dry.
"Oh yes. I'm sure you're surprised." Azakil chuckled. "Suppose I would be also. But you know it's true. It's your destiny Briar Moss; it's the only way this passage would open. Only you would figure out what the inscription meant, feel what you're supposed to feel in order for passage. Why, Sanders of Lucania knew this before your own birth. I knew this before your birth." Then, as I looked up and saw Briar trying to find words but failing, the old man began what sounded like a wonderful song, his cracking voice suddenly sounding silvery and smooth:
"Dreams, though dreams they not be:
He will come with sword and iron fist,
To set his only Lady Love home and free,
making through the cliff and mist.
He shall be called by the rose thorn,
handsome, courageous, and brave,
and between two loves he will be torn,
but he will conquer by the grave."
When he was done, I found my eyelids heavy and my eyes scratchy. Blinking rapidly, I looked up at Briar, only to be shocked by what I saw. His eyes were not like mine, sleepy and droopy, but instead vivid and sparkling. His jaw was set in a straight line.
Looking intensely at Azakil, his voice was slow, determined, and purposeful. "Why did they kill her?" His lips curled and now there was a snarl emitted from his mouth, "Why did they kill Sandry?" He strode up quickly next to the man, looking straight down at the old man, who he towered over. "She was innocent, dammit! What the hell did she do to you?! To anyone? She didn't deserve it. They had no goddamn right! I-- I . . ." It was here that his voice faltered, crackling with pure misery. I watched in what felt like slow-motion as Briar closed his eyes, squeezing them close. And then I saw something that caught my breath. After three long days, something inside me caught, my lungs and heart stopped.
Briar Moss, pillar of stubbornness and everything sarcastic, cried.
Running up to him, I took his hand, squeezing it tightly. Something like a sob emitted unknowingly from my lips.
Azakil looked measurably at us, or rather into us, before he spoke. He was frowning now. "We kill no one within the walls of the Blaze. Lady Sandrilene is not dead, not in the slightest. In fact, Briar Moss, I believe she is more alive than ever before in her life." He leaned back, as if to appraise us.
Briar slowly opened one eye hesitantly.
"What?" I asked him, licking my dry lips. "What did you say?"
"Lady Sandrilene is not dead."
Something sparked in Briar's eyes. "I felt her die."
"Ah. Ah-ha." Azakil nodded to this. "You felt her pain, not her death. Of course, you realized this already Briar Moss. You simply could not live without Sandrilene, I'm afraid." Briar opened his mouth inquiringly, but Azakil interrupted, his voice tart, "Oh stop being stupid and incompetent! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, boy. You know, somewhere in that thick skull of yours, that something of the bond you have with Lady Sandrilene cannot be shaken without your eventual death. Maybe you haven't realized it yet, but you will. Oh perhaps you could live without this Tris girl-- who, by the way, is practically dead, but, of course, that won't stop you saving her, I suppose-- but you know, Briar Moss, what it means for Lady Sandrilene to die. I'm afraid you know the realities far too well. . ."
I watched the reactions on Briar's face, my eyes wide. If circumstances had been wholly different, I would had chuckled. But, unfortunately, the circumstances were not and all I could do was stand there and grit my teeth at Briar's open eyed, frozen fish expression.
". . . Now I suppose you'll want to know how to get to her. Yes?
I thought so." Azakil had a strange light to his face, as if he was
getting too excited for a fragile old man. Lifting a crooked finger,
he pointed to our left. Eyes scanning quickly through the vegetation
filled area, I squinted at the far left wall. There, tucked between
two thick bushes was a small passageway that I ceased to notice until now.
"Go," Azakil said, his voice suddenly quiet. "You will find what you seek." Then, he suddenly commanded us, "Here, take these." Turning, Briar and I glanced at him and then at his arms. In them, there were two swords, both with intricately engraved hilts. "They will aid you." Looking up at Briar, I shook my head, and he gave me a doubtful glance. "Go on," Azakil instructed again, "They will not fit within any other grasp than yours. They were built for you nearly two hundred years ago."
I don't know what compelled me to take the sword, but I slowly extended my hand before closing my hands over the smooth metal. Immediately, a warmth swept through my arm. The metal blazed, but in the pleasant sort of way, and the engravings in them glowed.
And then, I saw it. My name, etched intricately within the engravings: Daja Kisubo. Made nearly two hundred years ago.
Looking up in surprise, I glanced with wide eyes at Briar. His sword had done the same thing. We had a silent conversation there and then.
Without second thought we dashed towards the passageway. The wind blew in our faces because we ran so hard. We ran for so long before we reached a long stairwell, stairs as far as the eye could see.
Under my breath, remembering the inscription, I muttered, "The lonesome stairs." Briar ignored me. He was already trotting down the stairs.
I have never felt so utterly blank. The sword's metal burned in my hands, my name pulsing against my flesh. There was only adrenaline and the same thought within my brain: Sandry and Tris aren't dead. They aren't dead. . .
And I truly believed it. I believed it with all my soul.
We encountered our first man from the Blaze about three-fourth's of the way down. I've never killed a man without feeling slight hesitation. I felt no hesitation when my sword stabbed him swiftly in the back.
When he hit the ground, there was a look of surprise on his face; I noticed it coldly as Briar and I rushed past him.
It wasn't long before we ran into more men. It hardly surprised me. I knew we would meet opposition. I just figured that they might give us trouble. However, it almost disturbed me how easy it was killing them.
They were ushering war cries as they came towards us. One younger man rushed towards me, a wooden club in his right hand, his only weapon. I almost felt a pang of guilt when I twisted his arm before kicking him in the gut, sending him tumbling down the stairs. I heard what sounded like a bone breaking. Eyeing him for a brief second, I saw that he had landed oddly on his neck. A shiver ran through my spine.
Men were retreating now. Some stayed. In fact, one man was engaging Briar in a fight right then. He actually had a small dagger and was giving a worthy fight. Probably would have been good with a proper weapon. However, Briar punched him the gut before slapping the dagger out of the man's grasp. Then, grabbing him around the neck, Briar held the man at bay before asking sharply, "What have you done with Sandry, you dirty son of bitch?!"
The man grasped frantically at Briar's arm, clawing him before he squealed, "I don't know who you talk of. I know no Sandry."
I was sick of riddles and games. Pointing the blade of my sword at his throat, I growled, "Oh shut-up, you lying bastard. Tell us where she is and we might not kill you. What about Tris? What have you done with her?"
He continued to struggle, "I know no one of who you speak!"
Exchanging looks with Briar, I stiffened my lip before nodding for Briar to let him go. With some hesitation, he did. Immediately, the man spun on his heel before landing a hard punch on Briar's chin.
I had had enough. Grabbing the man by his hair, I spun him around before kneeing him hard in the groin. He doubled over in pain before I elbowed him in the head. He fell to the ground like a stone. I was sure he wasn't dead, but he was going to feel that for awhile.
Briar was still on his feet, eyeing me. A crooked smile was on his face. "Nice work, Daj'," He drawled coolly, rubbing his injured chin. There was a sparkle in his eyes that I hadn't seem in a long time. If I have had more time to evaluate it, I would have called it. . . happiness.
I rolled my eyes. "Let's go." Walking down the stairs, I suddenly felt Briar clamp his hand around my wrist.
"Not so fast."
Turning sharply on my heel, I gave him a fiery look. "This isn't the time to discuss something, Briar."
"Too bad," he responded tartly. His hair was in his eyes again. This made me even more annoyed. "You need to go for help, Daja. Get the authorities. . . anyone. I can get Sandry and Tris out of here, but I can't kill everyone."
I frowned. "That's where I come handy. Plus, you give Sandry a sword and she be swinging left and right." I smiled knavishly before adding teasingly, "You would know more than anyone that she's dangerous when she's mad."
Even though I could tell that he was both amused and annoyed by my last comment, he shook his head. More hair fell in his face. I frowned harder. "You know that you've gotta do it. I'll go in and get Tris and Sandry. If you don't go, Daja, I don't think we'll get out of her alive."
We had a small staring contest, lasting just a few seconds. I sighed. Then, nodding quietly, I sheathed my sword, trotting up the stairs. When I was on equal footing with Briar, I looked hard into his eyes (which, to my annoyance, were hidden by a disarray of hair) before commanding in a low voice, "You be careful, Briar Moss. Don't do anything stupid, don't get yourself killed, always be cautious. . ."
"All right, I get it. . . mother," Briar interrupted, his smiling broadening. Then, in almost a shooing motion, he nodded up the stairs.
Smiling at him, I leaned in and kissed him between the eyes, Trader custom for good luck. With a parting smile, I ran a few steps up before I paused. Turning slowly, I called to Briar, "You gotta tell her, Briar." He stopped dead in his tracks before looking up at me. Blinking, I could finally see the hurt and innocence there, after days of coldness and detachment. I smiled thinly. "It's gone too long without saying."
Briar stared hard at me before nodding. Then, he disappeared down the steps.
I watched his retreating figure for only a few seconds, a small, bitter-sweet smile plastered on my face. Then, with determination, I disappeared in the darkness of the stairwell, pass the dead men, their blank stares piercing into me.
But I didn't loose will. I knew where to go. In fact, I had observed more than Briar had that dark night with Fayola.
When I came to the top of the stairwell, I pushed open a door with a regular knob. I emerged to a misty Nidran night, in a dark alleyway with a littering of boxes and crates.
The garden had conformed back to an ugly disarray of rubbish. Azakil and the dog with red eyes had disappeared.
And, creeping through the dark streets, I disappeared amongst the night.
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A/N: OH CHA CHA!! Hm, I need to stop learning the Spanish language; it's slowly being butchered. Anyway, weird chapter. Well, if you want to think I'm insane, go right ahead. I won't blame you. However, I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I should have another update later this week now that it's Spring Break, I have time to write. Hah, but next chapter will dear Tris (no, I haven't forgotten the poor dear. Yes, and if you don't think that Tris should be called a poor dear, you might later.) Anywho, later chapter will have more romance and such. I like how one reviewer put it: "SANDRY'S GOING TO GET SNOGGED SENSELESS!!!" Hehe. . .
Well, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REVIEWS!! You guys are great. It really inspires me to write. Special thanks to people who stay faithful every chapter. May you be blessed with love and pizza. But I love reviews. Please review. PWEASE?
MWHAHAHA, snog is great word! Ah hem, just seeing in you were
still reading. . .