Chapter Forty-Eight

  Inheritance

  Together, Inerys and Ephaxus spent three whole days prioritizing her mental cultivation in preparation of what they had deemed her bloodreading. They had devised the term as a palatable alternative to the truth of her consumption, which had allowed her to compartmentalize the act as one of necessity, rather than the intrusive, stomach-churning affair she’d come to see it as. For better or worse, the ability to experience memory through blood was hers to bear. She would use it, learn to control it, but she refused to see it as the gift Ephaxus did. To her, it was a tool. Nothing more.

  For the purposes of their training, his blood had taken the place of her usual supply. While what they harvested from animals was adequate enough to keep her sated, everyone had agreed it was better to feed from a single source while attempting to hone such an alien skillset. More origins meant more memories and thus, more to sort through. The logical side of her understood this, yet some part of her still rebelled against the idea of drinking blood from a friend or bondmate, even if it was given freely. It had taken some coaxing, but she’d eventually relented.

  Inerys had expected her mind to be overrun the way it had been during her first experience with the ability, yet to her surprise it was left lucid and largely intact. Ephaxus’ memories nagged at the edges of her conscious thought like the stubborn lyrics of some tavern-born song that had long since overstayed its welcome, but that was the extent. There was no shattering of self, no worldly upheaval, she simply found her thoughts straying toward the fragment of her bondmate from time to time. In a way, it was not all that different from daydreaming. Inklings of thoughts and impressions, most mere hours old, teasingly drifted in and out of focus as she’d prepared for her meditation. They sought her attention, but did not seize it the way Rhydian and the woman’s had.

  While the difference could be attributed to the bond she and Ephaxus shared, she could not confirm it with any certainty until she had more experience to draw from. After all, her mind interacted with the echoes of the animal blood in a similar way. With far less clarity, perhaps, but she could not ignore the commonalities. There were subtle variations in how wyverns interpreted and organized information when compared to Adai like Cydan or Rhydian, but the overall structure of higher thought was familiar. Comfortable, whereas the minds of ordinary animals were too simplistic and too confining. Immersing herself in them had always felt like trying to shove all that she was down into a space that was never meant to contain her. Which was perhaps part of the reason she had found it so difficult to gain any significant control over the ability.

  She and Ephaxus’ early attempts at further exploration had been arduous affairs. Not because she found it difficult to access his memories, but because her body had a tendency to lock up whenever it sensed her mental core upon the precipice of a full alignment with another. The tug at her consciousness, however slight, triggered a defense response she hadn’t even known she’d developed. Apparently, her first incident had more of an effect upon her than she’d realized. Working past the issue had taken the better part of two days, but she had eventually crossed the threshold into the breadth of Ephaxus’ memories without her meditative focus falling to pieces around her.

  Navigating them was still a matter of trial and error with what seemed like two failures for every one success she managed. She could trace the path of specific memories if she focused hard enough, but the further she delved, the more complex everything became. She found herself more entangled in a web than lost in a labyrinth, for threads of thought spun away from one another in seemingly random patterns only to spread and weave their way through others. Recent events were easier to negotiate, but Inerys could only follow them so far before she grew lost in the minutia of the irrelevant paths.

  What she needed was a teacher, or at the very least, someone more well versed in matters of the mental core. The others were doing their best to help, but the unfortunate truth was that they were all blundering about in the dark when it came to this particular aspect of the soul. Meditation was not an all encompassing fix, either. The techniques she had been taught were geared toward more physical applications and while they had aided in the cultivation of her psionic essence, they were of little use when it came to her bloodreading. It left her more reliant upon instinct and trial, which while exciting, took time.

  Time she was running increasingly short of.

  This Lady of Dreams had the potential to become the mentor she needed, but there was no telling how long Rhydian would retain access to the body of their mystery woman after they arrived in Cyllicia. If Inerys did not ingest her blood soon, there was a chance the opportunity would be lost forever simply through the process of decay once the body was removed from Rhydian’s annex. As it was, he had told her the woman’s body had spent several hours in Mistwatch’s morgue when Vesryn had been tasked with its initial inspection. The blood would be hard enough to choke down in its current state. Allowing it to coagulate and rot any further would be as detrimental as it was revolting.

  By the end of the third day, she wasn’t particularly pleased with her progress. Her navigation skills had only marginally improved despite countless hours spent in her introspection, but she supposed it would have to do. Gleaning some information was better than none at all. How she was able to experience the woman’s memories without having consumed her blood first was still a mystery, but she hoped the addition of it would help her gain more insight. Or at the very least, bring some order to the chaos she’d seen. As she settled down beside Ephaxus for a well earned break, it was all she could think about.

  When she awoke some hours later, she found herself curled up beside what might have been a stone outcropping, rather than her tent. The air was unnaturally warm and as she lifted a sleepy hand to the bluff, she realized why: it wasn’t a rock face at all. It was Ephaxus. Wait, she’d fallen asleep, hadn’t she?

  Spirits, what time was it?

  She rolled onto her back and blinked open bleary eyes. A massive, rosy wing sloped overhead, shielding her entirely from what she could only assume was the late afternoon sun. He must have shifted position, for last she remembered, she was leaning against the side of his neck, not his chest. She sat up with a soft groan and grimaced as she banished the grass blades sticking to her cheek.

  Ephaxus’ weight shifted, wing partially lifting as he brought his head around to peek into the hollow he’d created. There was no denying the amusement in his metallic eyes and she might have scowled at him, were it not for the unfettered joy behind them. The sight of it all but melted her heart and there was no helping the goofy smile she gave him in turn.

  Is it evening already? She asked, gauging the position of the long shadows in relation to the sun.

  Perhaps. Am I right to assume it arrived sooner than you expected?

  Just a bit, she admitted, Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all day. One moment, I was closing my eyes to help stave off that headache and the next–

  You woke with half the meadow upon your face?

  This time, she did scowl.

  Hush. It wasn’t that bad.

  He chuckled low in his throat, If you insist.

  Sighing, she ran her fingers along her mess of a flight braid, Are the others awake?

  All, save Cydan.

  She’d risen around her usual time, then. A touch early, but that was hardly the end of the world. The sun would sink beyond the distant mountains soon enough. And when it did, she’d find Rhydian. The sooner this business was over and done with, the better.

  Ephaxus canted his head as he watched her rise and stretch and her brow furrowed.

  What is it?

  Do you still have access to the memories of the firstrider?

  I’m not sure, I haven’t sensed his in days. Why?

  I was merely curious as to the longevity of these memories in your mind. If they linger and remain stable, perhaps you have more time to explore them than we have previously assumed?

  She tilted her head, mirroring his own now as she mulled over the possibility.

  I’d have to check. Maybe? That would make things easier.

  Much easier, actually.

  Interest piqued, she dropped back into the grass and crossed her ankles. It wasn’t as if she didn't have time to spare, what with the sun still reigning over the world, and a proper warm up was likely in her best interest. She steadied her breath and slipped into her meditation with practiced ease.

  Rhydian’s memories had become a distant priority in light of this bloodreading business, but if she could still sense the woman’s, she couldn’t imagine his had been wholly lost. It was just a matter of discovering where they actually resided. They were somewhere within her mind, yes, but she had come to realize that particular aspect of her soul was as boundless as the night sky. The fragment of Rhydian was but one star amid the tapestry.

  She may not have an official technique to draw from, but she did have a rudimentary method she thought might work. It wasn’t all that different from how she had begun reading memories; once she located a particular line of thought, she traced it. It often led to dozens of other avenues down the line, but she didn’t anticipate running into the issue in this particular instance. If she thought of Rhydian and the copy of his memories that had passed to her, perhaps she could trace them back to the source?

  She supposed it was a reasonable place to start. So, she focused. At first, her efforts summoned forth her recollection of his memories. Which, while similar, were not exactly what she was looking for. She tried again. And again. Each time, she would inevitably circle back to her own recollection. The most frustrating part was that she was sure she could sense the thread she sought. There was an energy to it, soft and distant, that sung to her. It was there, but she couldn’t touch it nor tell where it was coming from.

  Her mounting frustration threatened to break her meditation, but as the first of the fractures appeared, she acted on a hunch. Rather than follow the line of memories, she focused on the feel and tone of his energy. On his unique song. It was little more than a single, sustained note, but the more she listened, the more it reminded her of him. It was him, or at least, some small part.

  And it was enough.

  Buried somewhere deep, was a single, flickering flame. Rhydian’s fire. She brushed it with a mental hand and immediately recognized the repository for what it was. It burned warm and true and with luck, as strong as the day it had passed to her. She had no real mark by which to measure its integrity, but it felt whole. Whatever essence ate away at her shackles was absent here. Perhaps the memories were safe, then? She hoped they would be.

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  With a slow, relieved breath, she withdrew from the flame and released her thoughts.

  They’re still there, she told Ephaxus as she opened her eyes.

  The world had grown dim beyond the shelter of his wing. Time had a way of escaping her during deeper meditations, but she was pleased to see she hadn’t been seated for hours. Dusk had only just passed.

  Then it would seem your situation is not quite so dire?

  No, thankfully, she said, If I take in the memories, I should be able to revisit them. For a time, at least.

  But it still involved drinking blood in order to obtain them.

  And facing the creature that had shaped her in its likeness.

  Are you ready? He asked, voice gentle.

  I think so.

  Then let us face your monster so that you may no longer be its prey, he said, unfurling his wing.

  Patting his side, she rose and cast her gaze across their camp. Ayduin, Cydan and Rhydian were all seated close together along one side of the fire with their backs to she and Ephaxus. Sorisanna and Vesryn sat across from them, engaged in their own separate conversation. The sight of the elder sage had grown to unnerve Inerys, but she refused to let herself dwell upon the feeling tonight. After all, she had far greater things to face.

  The trio collectively glanced over their shoulders, no doubt roused by one of the wyverns, and Cydan raised an arm to wave in greeting. Smiling to herself, she returned the gesture and passed Ephaxus a nod of appreciation before making her way over. She was still in her clothes from the previous night, but aside from a few rumples, they would serve well enough until she washed them again later. Her hair was the real travesty and she deftly unravelled her braid before anyone else could tell how unruly it had become in the night.

  “Long day?” Cydan asked, dark eyes bright with their usual teasing light.

  “Something like that,” she said, perching herself beside him with a fanged yawn.

  “We were going to bring you back to your tent when we realized you’d fallen asleep, but Ephaxus was having none of it.”

  “Insisted you needed your rest,” Ayduin hummed, “Uninterrupted.”

  Inerys winced a smile, “He can be a little overprotective. Sorry.”

  She waved an idle hand, “No harm done.”

  “We’re just glad you actually slept. You’ve been at it for days,” Cydan said.

  “I was hoping to accomplish more in that time, but this mind business is more difficult than I gave it credit for.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Fortunately for you, the Wardeness is an expert when it comes to matters like this. If your attempt tonight fails, I’m sure she could teach you a technique or two that may make things easier for you in the future.”

  “There’s hope,” she said, glancing toward the fire.

  “Would you like something to eat beforehand?”

  She shook her head, “Much as I mourn the fact I missed dinner, the thought of food is enough to make me sick right now.”

  By the look of it, breakfast was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind, at present.

  “Can’t say I blame you,” he said.

  Rhydian shifted in his seat, “Would you like to start, then?”

  She felt Vesryn’s eyes on her, weighing, studying.

  “Please. Before I lose my nerve,” she said.

  He rose with a single nod, as did his second and forthrider. The phantom door to his annex appeared like a void in reality and she couldn’t help but swallow. Her mouth was dry, her fingers growing cold.

  “Would you like us to go with you or would you prefer to go alone?” Rhydian murmured.

  “I’d like company,” she said, far more quickly than she intended, “I mean, the last time she and I were alone, she–”

  Of the three, it was Ayduin who met her eyes and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

  “We’ll be here, at your side. All of us.”

  The men both nodded their agreement. Words failed Inerys as she took them all in, but she brushed her hand over Ayduin’s and managed a small smile in silent thanks. Her gaze flickered back to the disembodied door looming before them. She was waiting for her. Inerys could feel it.

  Her passenger stirred.

  “She’s dead, right? You’re certain of it?” She asked, hating how thin her voice had become.

  “I left that silver arrow in her heart,” Rhydian said quietly as he took his place beside her, “She’s dead.”

  Dead.

  She couldn’t hurt her, not again.

  She was dead.

  Inerys repeated the phrase over and over again in her head until she almost believed it.

  Rhydian’s annex was a cold, empty space so unlike that of Ayduin’s and its many treasures. It smelled not of soaps and leather, but of death and blood and metal. Every instinct rebelled against Inerys as she crossed the threshold, demanding she run hard and far and never look back. But she couldn’t. She needed to do this. If she didn’t, she would remain this woman’s prey forever.

  Fire sparked to life in Rhydian’s open palm, then the sconces posted at each corner of his annex. Shadows flickered as they were chased away, leaving the room’s sole occupants illuminated in soft, amber light. Shrouds had been laid over all three corpses; black and gold for those Inerys assumed were the fallen Talhavar and white for the nightmare who had slain them.

  She lay sequestered at the far end of the room, dark antlers unmistakeable, rising above the sheet like the branches of some long-dead tree amid winter snow. Inerys’ breath hitched at the sight. Her heartbeat began to quicken, stomach twisting and roiling until it eventually felt as though it had hollowed out entirely. Her world tilted and darkened around the edges, but she forced herself to remain firm.

  Her attacker was dead.

  And Inerys wasn’t alone this time.

  She took a shaking step forward from where she’d lingered just inside the archway with the others, flexing her clammy fingers at her side. Her passenger roused in response to her mounting anxiety, watching, waiting, promising its support for whatever peril she may face. But she wasn’t in any real danger, was she? She was safe, the threat long since neutralized by the same man who had saved her life and fought to make her whole again. The reminder brought comfort, but not closure. She knew what lay beneath the shroud, but she had to see it with her own eyes.

  She slowly knelt beside the corpse, taking in the icy fabric and its silver scripture. What it meant, she wasn’t certain, yet her mind was already working to decode the foreign symbols. She closed her eyes before it could finish, for she did not want to know what it all meant. Not now.

  When she opened them again, she focused on the space where the woman’s antlers emerged from the cloth. She leaned forward, then hesitated when her fingers brushed the edges of the veil. Would she find those ember-like eyes staring up at her? Were her fangs still stained red with her blood? Or had she been made presentable by the very sage who saw Inerys as the same monster?

  With bated breath, she drew back the shroud and stared. There were no fangs, no bloodied lips. The woman lay with a preternatural stillness, eyes closed and nearly appearing as though she were merely asleep despite the months that had passed since her brutal end. One by one, though, death revealed its subtle markers along her face: the blue tint to her lips, the pallor of her skin, the pronouncement of bone along sunken cheeks. The truth of it settled deep, leaving her cold and vacant. Inerys gazed upon the corpse for what felt like an eternity until a familiar warmth found her side.

  “I feel a fool for having ever thought you two were one in the same,” Rhydian said.

  She spared him a sidelong glance and found him staring down at the woman’s face with a certain vacancy she was all too familiar with. He had been scarred too, in his own way. They all had, and yet he, Cydan and Ayduin had all chosen to face the source of their pain alongside her with full support and without complaint.

  Inerys carefully laced her fingers through Rhydian’s and squeezed.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, “for not giving up on me.”

  He withdrew from his stupor enough to offer her a small smile, then bump her with his shoulder.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to try harder to be rid of me in the future. Those fangs of yours don’t scare me anymore.”

  Her chuckle was light as she glanced down at the scars she’d left upon his forearm, “Surprising, all things considered.”

  “Trust is a curious thing,” he said, following her gaze. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and presented her with a small vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid, “I drew it ahead of time in case you changed your mind about seeing her.”

  “Part of me still questions whether or not I’m crazy for even considering this,” she said, taking it.

  The glass was warm against her skin, the contents within having been warmed for her benefit. However, it wasn’t the heat that had stolen her focus, but rather the sight of the blood itself. Or perhaps, its proximity. The wispy tendrils of her passenger’s shadowy form peeked out from its hidden crevice, intrigued. The promise of a meal often drew its interest, though Inerys sensed an underlying intensity. A certain anticipation.

  “You’re under no obligation,” he said.

  “Maybe not, but that doesn’t change the fact you were right. She may have answers for us both.”

  He searched her face, but nodded and brushed his thumb along hers.

  “When you’re ready, then.”

  Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and undid the stopper at the top of the vial. As she did, the scent struck her– deep and rich and brimming not with essence, but power. It awakened at her touch, the once stagnant blood flaring to life like liquid gold. Its aureate light called to her, demanding she take it, claim it. It wasn’t hunger that drove her desire to indulge, but something closer to the core of her being. There was a draw, a pull akin to a force of nature. It would change her, Inerys knew, the only question was how. She considered waiting, weighing her options, but her passenger acted first.

  Those wispy tendrils, that had always been so gentle in their caress, lashed out. They solidified as they seized her mind, digging deep and leaving her reeling from the speed and ferocity of the attack. Her body shuddered as her control was wrenched away and for the first time since her encounter in the deepwoods, she found her body answering to the will of someone else. She raised the vial to her lips, knocked back its contents and swallowed before she fully realized what had happened.

  The effect was immediate.

  Power surged through her soul, leaving her warm and weightless as her head tipped back. It swept through mind and body alike, cleansing and perfecting all it touched before convening on her spiritual core. The remaining shackles were consumed in a matter of seconds, their amber planes giving way to a brilliant, golden star. Streaks of red shot through the swirling mass, though their presence was nothing compared to the shock of her unbridled spirit.

  The influence of her passenger vanished, leaving Inerys to sag like a puppet whose strings had been severed in a single, vicious cut. Rhydian caught her before she collapsed upon the corpse of her forebear, but she barely noticed. She gasped for breath, clutching at her heart as her panic rose and rose. The shackles were supposed to protect her, how could they be gone? Without them, the tempest would consume her. It would tear her apart, kill her–

  Breathe, viper.

  Her body obeyed, drawing lungful after lungful of crisp, open air.

  Someone had laid her in the grass, but it took her a moment to register the change. Her eyes had been squeezed shut and when she finally opened them, she found the others leaning over her with stricken faces. Ephaxus’ massive snout shoved Ayduin and Cydan out of the way and pressed gently against her side where she lay half cradled in Rhydian’s lap. Footsteps rushed toward them, only to halt when he said, “Wait– she’s leveling out.”

  She expected the all familiar pain of a fracturing soul, but instead, all she felt was warmth. Peace, almost, like she had finally been made whole. Tentatively, she reached for the space where her shackles had been. They were gone, but the storm they had once held in check had vanished too, replaced by that strange new star.

  She dared a shallow sigh of relief, but tensed when Sorisanna said, “Rhydian, her eyes–”