Heirs of War (13 page)

"I will not ask you again," Kellen said
. Ariana looked up at her, wide-eyed and full of fear, and Kellen met her eyes with a challenging stare, daring the girl to defy her again. "Do not enter into a battle of wills with me, child. I am far more adept at my gifts than you are, and I can do far worse than give you a sunburn."

Ariana's skin cooled back to normal temperature, but there were little welts and blisters beginning to appear in a ring around each wrist, as though she had been placed in a burning set of cuffs. She resisted the urge to rub them and instead did as she was told, reaching out with a tentative hand and pulling on what looked to be the sleeve of a green dress. The body turned over onto its back, revealing it to be an older woman of maybe her mid-forties.

"Do you know who this woman was?" Kellen asked as she walked over. She nudged the body with her foot.

Ariana scooted herself away from the corpse in front of her, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she tried not to be sick. Flinching at the threatening step Kellen took toward her, she frantically shook her head. "No, I've never seen her before," she
breathed.

"She was Nandalia. One of the Duillaine. One of the most powerful people in all the worlds," she clarified. "And I killed her. Do you know why I killed her?" Kellen knelt down in front of the frightened young girl. "Because she wouldn't listen to reason. That's all I ask, you see. For you to be reasonable. If you are reasonable, then you are useful to me. The moment you fail to be useful to me. Well...." she trailed off, gesturing to the lifeless figure beside them.

Ariana stifled a whimper at this, feeling very lost and alone. She just wanted to go home. She had no idea what this vile woman wanted from her, but she understood the lengths her captor was willing to go in order to reach her goal. For the first time since waking up in this hellhole, Ariana was beyond scared. She was downright terrified.

Kellen stood with a grace not at all befitting the
monster Ariana now saw her as, and gestured to the dead woman. "You might also like to know Nandalia was your real mother."

"What?" Ariana asked as she let out a breath, immediately regretting it as she pulled more putrid air into her lungs
. The scent of death touched her tongue and she choked on her words. "No. My mother—“

"Isn't who you think she is," Kellen
finished. "You were taken from your true home when you were just a baby and raised in a different world by a family of Estridians. This piece of filth at my feet gave birth to you and then sent you away so your power could not threaten her rule. Before you go choosing sides, ask yourself what kind of a mother would send her child away like that. If you had still been in Anscombe yesterday, my people would have never been able to get to you."

Ariana hardly paid attention to Kellen as she stared at the dead woman a few feet away from her. She could see the resemblance, even though Nandalia's features were disguised by the pallor of death. She didn't have her mother's freckles, but they shared the same eyes and the same heart-shaped face. She had always tried to find the same similarities between herself and the two people back home she had thought were her parents, but the hard truth had been that she didn't resemble them at all. Could it be because she wasn't their daughter? That she really belonged to this dead woman beside her?

She fought against this idea at first, and then she remembered something her father had always told her: the simplest explanation is usually where the truth can be found. What would be the simplest explanation here? She asked herself. Was all of this true, and she really was being held prisoner by a magic-wielding sociopath who had already killed her true birth mother? A mother who had sent her far away to live in a land obviously cut off from this one?

She stared off into the distance, trying to think of what else might explain this. If this was a dream, she should be able to wake up. Unless she was hall
ucinating. Or had a head injury. That would make the most sense, she thought to herself with excitement as she sucked in another putrid breath. If whoever killed Emma attacked her too, she could have bumped her head, and this could all be one big concussion-induced delusion.

Her fingers
probed her skull for a lump, but her hands frantically searching her scalp for the injury. She did, however, cry out as a few strands of hair brushed against the welts on her wrists. She dropped her arms, her elbows resting on her lap as she stared at the blisters. The pain felt more real than anything, which told her this must not be a dream. She felt herself go numb with acceptance as the guards lifted her to her feet and frog marched her from the cell.

They dumped her in front of Alec, who jerked against his restraints. “What did you do to her?”

"Nothing that hasn't been done to you, my pet. She'll be fine." Kellen turned to her guards. "Unchain him. Alec, I want you to see to her wounds. We can't risk any infection or scarring on that perfect skin of hers."

Ariana stifled a humorless laugh, wondering if it really mattered what she looked like at this point. What was the plan? Parade her around in front of a bunch of people? And if so, why? She had no idea what Kellen wanted from her, but she was afraid to find out.

In truth, she didn’t want to know what part she played in this great war Kellen talked about. She wanted no part of it, and she didn’t want to believe anything Kellen said. Her mother was alive and well, and probably worried sick about her by now. Especially if they’d found Emma.

She suddenly noticed Alec sitting beside her and flinched away from him. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion as he set a bowl of grey goop between them, as well as several cloths, and a mortar and pestle.

"It's okay," he soothed and held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What do you want?"

"Your arms are burned," he explained as he reached for the mortar and began using the pestle to mix the ointment. His actions were deliberate and obvious so as to not unnerve her even further. "This mixture will ease the pain and help them to heal quicker. May I?"

She held out her wrist cautiously, ready to pull back at the first sign of malicious intent. He went to work on her wounds without another word, gently rubbing the creamy substance across the burns and causing her to wince. She watched his face as he cradled her hand in his own and tenderly spread the ointment on the underside of her wrist.

"You're a prisoner," she said without question. He nodded, continuing his work. "But Sheridan treated you like a friend."

He nodded again, realizing how odd the situation might seem to an outsider. "She
is
my friend. Truthfully, the one friend I have in all the worlds."

"That's not saying much," she muttered, wincing again as he started work on the other wrist.

He stopped working, suddenly growing defensive. "Sheridan is not your enemy. Do not mistake her for her mother."

"They killed—“

"Yes, I understand your friend was killed," he snapped, "as sometimes happens in war. Let me ask you; was it Sheridan who killed your friend? Was she killed on Sheridan's command?"

"No. But she did kidnap me. Doesn't exactly help her case."

He waved her comment off dismissively. "She could have done much worse, I assure you. You know nothing about her or what she has been through. Don't make assumptions."

"Don't tell me what to think," she bit back, yanking her wrist from his grip. "And don't assume to know what I've gone through, either
. You weren't there!" She blinked back angry tears. "This whole thing is ridiculous. I'm not who they think I am, and the woman in there was
not
my mother. My mother looks nothing like her."

He reached out, taking hold of her right wrist and rubbing the ointment across her mark, his thumb tracing the circ
le of the pentacle. "I don't suppose this is some sort of tattoo, is it?"

"No, it's a birth mark. People have weird birth marks all the time. There's this guy at my school with one on his lower back shaped like an elephant."

“It’s awfully clear to be a birth mark. Haven’t you ever wondered about that?”

In truth, she had, but she didn’t want to admit that to him. Sometimes she told strangers it was just a tattoo.
They usually didn’t believe it was a birth mark, and she grew tired of the quizzical looks they would give her. She’d had it for as long as she could remember. It was even evident in her baby pictures.

"If you have had this mark since birth
”, he continued, “then you are exactly who they are looking for. What I don't understand is how you don't know who you are. Surely someone had to teach you, guide you as your power grew stronger...it makes no sense," he said mostly to himself.

Ariana
definitely knew they had the wrong girl now. She couldn’t deny the magical power Kellen had displayed, but she’d never experienced anything of the sort. "My power? Okay, now I really know you have the wrong girl. The only powers I know anything about have to do with algebra, and let me tell you—I'm not real good with those."

Some kind of realization appeared to dawn on him as his jaw dropped. “No. They wouldn’t have sent you to Dhara as well. That would be insanity.”

“To where?"

"Dhara," he repeated, "a world much different from the one you are in. The people there are born without any connection to the elements. They sent your sister
there, but I didn't think…surely they wouldn’t have sent you all to a desolate world like that. You would have no way to defend yourselves."

"Desolate meaning no magic?" Ar
iana asked and he nodded. "Yup, that's where I'm from. And all I want to do is go back. I just wanted to go to the stupid dance," she mumbled, rolling her eyes at herself and trying to fight back tears. "I didn't ask for any of this. I want to go home." She paused as he started working on her wrists again, frowning at the look of sympathy he gave her before his gaze shifted down to his work. "But I can't, can I? This is all really happening, isn't it?"

At his answering nod, Ariana felt something inside her break. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head in protest. She didn’t want it to be true. But all the pain she felt—from her wrists, from her fear, and from her heartbreak over losing Emma—it was all too real. She let out a strangled cry, longing for the safety of her father’s arms.

Instead, she felt Alec place a tentative hand on her back. She turned, burying her face in his chest as she let everything out. She didn’t know who he was or if she could even trust him, but she needed someone to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. Even if it might not be particularly true.

"It's all
right," he said and relaxed with her in his embrace. "I promise I will find a way to get you out of this. I won't let any harm come to you."

All
of the trauma she had experienced must have pushed her over the edge of insanity. Because, for some strange reason, she believed him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By the time they arrived in this new world Varrick had vaguely mentioned along the way, Zelene was teeming with questions. The first one—and likely to be the least important—was how in the hell two horses had magically appeared by the portal right in their time of need.

She supposed “magic” was the key word. It was the only explanation for everything she had seen since coming home from school that day.

Varrick wasted no time loading her onto a horse and draping Kyle acro
ss the back of his, pulling her thoughts from the horrors of the day as her concern for Kyle grew. The bleeding from his head had mostly stopped, but she had wrapped it up in an old t-shirt from her bag just in case. Unfortunately, she had no way of telling if this would help or even if his head was their biggest concern.

“Is he going to be okay like that?”

Varrick had the audacity to show his impatience at her question. “He’ll be fine. The sooner we get him to the city, the better.”

Zelene understood his dismissal. Varrick had been on edge since his last minute rescue at the hotel, snapping at her about her supposed sister. She knew she wasn’t going to get any answers out of him. They rode swiftly along their path to the mysterious city in silence. It was a smooth ride, which left her even more curious about the horse.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” she said aloud as she cut her eyes to Varrick.

“Neither have I,” he answered.

“We seem to be doing pretty well for beginners. Don’t you think?” She paused for him to answer, but he gave no indication he had any plan to. “Kinda weird.”

Varrick pulled to a stop and turned his horse to face her. “Your boyfriend gets thrown across the room without anyone laying so much as a finger on him, and you’re questioning the horse?”

“No,” she exclaimed and then shook her head. “I mean, yes. I guess. I don’t know. You didn’t exactly seem like the Answer Man.”

“I’m not,” he retorted gruffly before pulling his horse to a gallop ahead of her.

“Then who the hell is?” she muttered to herself before following.

Varrick led them to a long and stone bridge on enough of an incline to make her grateful for the horses.
The structure stretched out before them, with bright blue water on either side reaching out as far as the eye could see. Once they reached the top, Zelene pulled her horse to a stop, her eyes growing wide with shock.

She had a better view of the city from this angle, and was rather wishing she didn’t. They were still pretty far away, which meant she could see almost the entire landscape before them. The areas closer to the water seemed normal enough, all leading downhill with houses sprinkled throughout the fields and trees. It was the center of the city that sent her heart to her throat. The heart of the city was more like a claw, the bridges leading to the mass of land holding the castle-like structures more like fingers digging into the beautiful landscape surrounding it. The top of the hand held several tall buildings, which appeared to be built in a circular pattern, one ring within another. Below the city center was…nothing. Just darkness.

Varrick threw her an impatient look over his shoulder, and she took the hint. She prodded her horse into a light gallop to catch up. Before long, they came upon a set of large, iron gates at the end of the narrow stone bridge.

Varrick had dismounte
d, so Zelene followed his lead as he addressed two men there.

"I am Varrick, Cyneward to the Ainnir Zelene and the Ainnir Ariana," Varrick said in an assertive voice before pointing to Kyle, still strewn across the horse now behind him. "This boy was injured protecting the Ainnir Zelene. Take him as fast as you can to the leigheas, and then go and alert the Duillaine to our presence. We will follow."

"Where are they taking him?" Zelene asked, making to follow the guards as they took Kyle and the horses away until Varrick's hand on her arm stopped him. "And where are we? And what's a doo-lane?"

"Dwee-lane," he sounded out in a way that told her it wasn't an answer at all. "Don't worry about Kyle. He's in good hands," Varrick assured her. "We're in the city of Anscombe. Come on."

Zelene followed skeptically. Her worries took a backseat as they grew closer to the city. The cobblestone streets, lined with small cob houses that reminded her of the play-doh structures she created as a child, all led uphill. The homes were pressed together so close there was hardly breathing room between them, but they spread out more as the distance from the main streets increased. She could barely make out what she assumed to be farmland beyond.

She followed Varrick apprehensively as
they neared the bridges connecting to the claw-looking land. She forced herself to look over the edge, seeing nothing but black in the crater below, and fought off fears that it might swallow her whole as they finally reached the first ring of buildings. Each ring was the same, with the buildings connected to the others by walkways on each floor.

"What is this place?" she breathed
, taking in her surroundings. They passed through an archway that led them into the center of the city, which was littered with what she assumed were market stalls.

People bustl
ed about as they continued down their path, which had narrowed down to the size of a sidewalk. No one paid any attention to them as they pushed their way through the crowds until one poor fellow met the blackened eyes of Varrick. He let out a startled cry, and then realization dawned on him as he looked back and forth between Zelene and Varrick.

"Blessed Mhathair Mhor," he said as he looked at Zelene with reverence, "the Duillaine Ainnir have returned," he said softly as he seemed to process his own words. "The Duillaine Ainnir have returned!" He repeated once more, this time addressing the crowd in a much louder voice than before.

The words rippled through the masses, and people stopped what they were doing to turn and gawk at Zelene. She combed her fingers through her hair insecurely, wondering why they were all looking at her. "What did he just call me?" she asked Varrick. "I mean, I've been called worse. I think."

"The Duillaine Ainnir. It's your title," he explained in a way that was no
t a real answer as he scanned the crowd. "Make way for the Ainnir Zelene," he addressed the crowd in a booming voice. Slowly, people dropped to their knees. "Smile, Zelene."

"Varrick," she asked as she leaned toward him, speaking from the corner of her mouth
and trying to plaster on a fake smile for the people watching her in awe, "why are these people
bowing
to us?"

"They aren't bowing to
us
," he corrected her, looping her arm through the crook of his elbow. "They are bowing to you because you are sort of...royalty, I guess you could say."

Her face pinched into an angry scowl, and her
glower shifted to him as he led her through the crowd. "You have
so
much explaining to do."

She
waved genially to the people, taking their hands and giving them well wishes when they asked. Some people were even in tears, overcome with the joy of seeing her return in their lifetime. She thanked them and told them she was glad to be back even though she had no idea where she was. The crowd parted for them as they made their way toward the larger buildings of the innermost ring.

Once they were in the quiet of the building, Zelene rounded on Varrick. Her hands were on her hips, ready to bombard him with quest
ions. Unfortunately, a few people were also rushing toward them, which drew her attention away from her guardian. They were each wearing similar masks of recognition that melted to disappointment for some. Her brows furrowed as she took in their attire, feeling like she might have just stepped into the middle of some Renaissance fair as she eyed the women in their corsets and the men in their doublets.

"What, no bows?" she asked mockingly as she addressed the onlookers.

A man stepped forward with clear hesitance, wringing his hands together even though his face was alight as he stared at the young redhead before him. "Zelene?" he half asked, half sobbed. "Is it really you, my child?"

Zelene
straightened as she cautiously watched the man come closer. He had soft eyes and sun kissed brown hair cut short and highlighted with streaks of gray, matching his ducktail beard and mustache. He was around the same height as Varrick, though the wrinkles around his eyes seemed to indicate he was older.

"Who the hell are you?" she blurted out.

"
Zelene
," Varrick chided.

Before she could respond, the man closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a tight hug, sobbing into her
shoulder. "Oh, my dear child! I am so happy to see you."

"Easy there, pal," she said
, pulling herself away and taking a few steps back. "Where I come from, people shake hands when they meet each other, not use each other as a Kleenex."

His slightly weathered skin pulled into a warm smile that took ten years off his appearance. "Forgive me. Of course, you would not remember me. You were so young when we…."
He trailed off. "My name is Arland. I am your father, Zelene."

Zelene stared at the man in disbelief. Had he really just claimed to be her father? She felt certain there must be some mistake, but as she
looked around at the people standing before her, they made no move to correct him. "My
what
?" she asked in a gravelly voice that seemed to be trying to reject the words even as she spoke them. She turned back to Varrick, who stood behind her stoically. "
So
much explaining to do," she stressed again.

"We have been in Dhara. She knows nothing about this world," Varrick reminded the
group, taking a step forward, but keeping his gaze lowered. "You are one of the five Duillaine Ainnir. These three women here," he said as he gestured to the three women standing behind Arland, "are the three remaining Duillaine Banair. They are the ruling body of the worlds. Your mother was the fourth."

Zelene scoffed her doubt, opening her mouth to argue as she inspected the women in front of her. Her protests
died in her throat as her focus landed on the youngest woman with her strawberry colored hair. She couldn’t help but notice the many similar features she shared with the strange woman. Her jaw hung open as she stood there, rooted in the same spot as if she had been knocked stupid by someone with a two-by-four.

Anger stirred her to her senses as she fixed
her glare on Varrick. "You call that an explanation? There are so many questions that leaves me with, I don't know where to start. I'll start with this though: If I'm royalty, then where's my crown? Because I know of a small dark place I'd like to shove it right now."

"
Zelene
," he chided more firmly, almost as if the behavior she was exhibiting in front of her supposed family embarrassed him. "Show some respect."

"No," she shouted. "You know what? I have had a really crappy day, and now you want to tell me you've been lying to me my whole life?! Screw you, Varrick! Someone take me to Kyle. Right now."

The woman with similar features stepped forward. She had a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose contrasting against her pale skin, much like Zelene. "I am Solanna. I understand how confusing this must be for you, Zelene. Please, come with us and allow us to explain."

"Take. Me. To. Kyle." Zelene’s eyes were red hot with
fury and confusion. Her temper threatened to blow as her supposed father tried to stifle his laugh.

"I will take you to the leigheas to see your friend," Arland said. The oldest woman started to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. "She is my daughter, Sylvanna. Besides, the galenas should really check her over. I'm sure her journey here has been quite trying."

Zelene didn't even bother asking what a galena was. She hadn’t expected someone to cave to her demands, but did her best not to let her surprise show. She kept her back straight as she marched ahead, stopping right beyond the group since she had no idea where to go. She could see Arland approach from her peripheral vision. She refused to look him in the eye though she could feel his focus on her. He had claimed to be her father, but she found the idea to be both preposterous and overwhelming. Her parents had died when she was five. Hadn't they? She dismissed the question in her mind and kept walking, certain she knew the truth about her parents.

Her father placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the right and up a staircase. "I'm afraid we will have to take the long way. Your presence seems to have caused quite a stir." He guided her around the corner to one of the walkways and gestured below them to see the crowds gathering in the markets below. She nodded, and he continued, taking them back to the stairs and up another story. "Tell me, do you know where your sisters are?"

She stopped in her tracks. "You are the third person to mention a sister of some kind to me today, and I have to tell you I am getting pretty tired of it."

She was also not exactly cool with the idea of
suddenly having a whole new family she had known nothing about her whole life, but she didn't mention that for fear of hurting his feelings. Maybe she had been an orphan for too long, but she found the idea of a father a little much to wrap her head around. Adding a sister to the mix pushed her beyond the level of incredulity at this point.