Or you can stab an unsuspecting woman in the chest and transport her to another realm to inhabit someone else’s body, apparently.
“King Ailill could not sail through the Grave Deep to Mordain, and he could not invade Ybaris with his army when he needed them at home to protect his hold of Cirilea, so he sent his eldest son, Rhionn, in a Seacadorian ship along the western coast and through Skatrana to Mordain in secret. It took years of careful planning, but Rhionn found a way in, captured the key caster Farren, and returned with her. He brought her to the nymphaeum on Hudem as instructed by Malachi. It could not have come at a better time, according to King Ailill, whose opposition was gaining momentum within Islor.
“But Ailill soon discovered that wielding Farren’s power himself was impossible and that Malachi’s primary focus was not to help him, but to open the door in the nymphaeum. He thought combining Farren’s immense caster power with the ancient power of the nymphs on Hudem would allow that to happen.”
Blood rushes to my ears. I assume this is the door I’m supposed to gain entry to. “Did it?”
“Not only did it not open that door, but combining all that power tore a seam in the fold between our world and another, a dark place called the Nulling where otherworldly beasts are often banished by the fates themselves. An army of fierce creatures that made the daaknar seem a kitten by comparison came up through the Great Rift. They could not be controlled, and they wreaked havoc on Islor and Ybaris for decades. It took both immortals and men to kill them and the power of every caster in Ybaris to seal the tear. To this day, some of these creatures still linger, making a home deep within the rift, in the mountains, and in the sea.”
Zander said there were things worse than bones down there. “Why did Malachi want that nymphaeum door open?” I ask, though I already know the answer. To get this stone. But why?
“He did not explain himself, but ancient texts from the seers foretell of the fates using the power of the nymphs to walk among us in flesh and blood, and to rule over the people. Regardless, the door remained shut, as it still does today.”
But it sounds like Malachi hasn’t given up. Why would he think I can open it if one of these insanely powerful key casters can’t? “What happened to King Ailill?”
“He had tempted the fates and plagued the lands once again. He could not be trusted with the power he held. His own son Rhionn killed him and claimed his throne, citing all the harm his father caused so many people on both sides of the rift. No one argued that Ailill deserved it, not even Queen Isla. But some say Rhionn had other reasons for killing his father. He had fallen in love with Farren during their long journey home, and they had made plans to beseech the fates to give her an immortal life. But using her power in the nymphaeum destroyed her and left him heartbroken.
“As king, Rhionn attempted to heal the relationship with Ybaris, but it was to no avail. They were bitter and wanted nothing to do with the Islorian blood curse. They had not fared well after the Great Rift cut the realm in two. Their lands were far less substantial than that which Islor assumed, riddled with mountainous regions and boglands and nothing comparable to the rich soils in the Plains of Aminadav. Trade with other realms had become difficult. Their relationship with Skatrana had been lukewarm to begin with, but after the rift, Skatrana wanted nothing to do with any magic wielders or those kings and queens who used them. The Grave Deep plagued the eastern waters, and ships in the west faced fierce sea sirens. As far as Ybaris was concerned, Islor was and forever would be an enemy, and Malachi a villainous fate.”
“But Rhionn was King Faolan and Queen Rhean’s grandson.”
“And a demon king as far as any Ybarisan was concerned. It did not matter that Ailill was dead. His legacy lived on in the most terrible of ways. Their only consolation was that Islor no longer had the ability to summon the fates for anything, and Ybaris vowed they would never again allow the fates the opportunity to meddle in our lands. They condemned to death all elementals with an affinity to Malachi. When Neilina came into power, she demanded added measures, so the guild used gifted tokens to create collars that would mute the ability to summon the fates. All elementals are required to wear them, and any who refuse are put to death.”
“I’m surprised she wouldn’t use these elementals for her own gain.”
“That would require her relinquishing control to an elemental, and effectively to Mordain. She is no fool to risk losing what she rules. Her clutch over Ybaris and the casters is fierce, and her own affinity to Vin’nyla is said to be unparalleled. I’ve heard she can steal the air from a person’s lungs with a thought …” Her voice drifts off as three women slip into the sanctum from an unseen door, garbed in the same white-and-gold gowns as Wendeline, their shoulders hunched with age, their hair various shades of gray and white. They nod to Wendeline before moving for the altar. “I’m afraid we have run out of time for today, but I think I’ve given you plenty to digest.”
Plenty to digest, and plenty to try to unravel. Namely, what part does a human jewel thief from New York play in all this?
Chapter Eighteen
“You have been unusually quiet on the walk back, Your Highness.” Elisaf pauses as we move through a set of open doors into the castle. The air is stifling, the sun bright, and yet candles flicker nearby.
“Just thinking.” I feel the curious stares following me and catch the bows and curtsies as I pass. From guards, from nobility, from servants. The servants are the only ones I feel truly safe around, now that I know everyone else has fangs that they’d sink into my neck if permitted.
Sofie said the Islorians could not find out what I am, but I still don’t understand why, and Wendeline’s history lesson didn’t shed much light on that. All it succeeded in doing was to make me wary of this nymphaeum and the seemingly straightforward task I must accomplish if I want to get out of here. If what Wendeline said about Malachi is true, then sending me here to steal this stone is likely tied to something else. Possibly something horrible, with dire consequences.
“I do miss our conversations.”
Elisaf’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Huh?”
“I would have liked to have had one last night, if I were permitted.” He smiles sheepishly. He is trying to apologize for abandoning me when I was on the verge of tears.
It doesn’t help to be angry with him anymore. Besides, he’s one of the few friends I have here. Alienating him would not be wise. “You said you were from Seacadore. Was that the truth?” His faint accent surely marks him as a foreigner.
“I have never lied to you, Your Highness. I simply omitted some details.” Earnest eyes meet mine, his voice low so as not to carry. “I was from Seacadore, in another life. I was a ship hand, and I often traveled across Fortune’s Channel to Islor and Kier.”
“You wanted to come here?” Knowing what these Islorian immortals are?
He grins. “I was young and naive. It was fascinating to me, this land that the fates had plagued, both mortal and immortal living together as they did. I would leave the port to enjoy Cirilea’s nightlife, which can be lively at times. If you ever have the opportunity, I recommend it.”