Empire of Night

Chapter Thirteen

Awakening

The more she roused, the more Inerys wished she were dead. She could neither see nor hear, though her mind had yet to register either fact. Copper’s sharp tang dominated both scent and taste in equal measure, overwhelming all thought and making it difficult to breathe. A deep gurgling rattled her lungs each time she forced the stubborn things to expand, which only fueled the nausea welling in her gut. Pain split along her brow between her temples, jaw throbbing like it’d been kicked by a horse. Her tongue, more a strap of leather, slipped along tingling, slimy gums too big for her mouth.

She tried to raise a hand to her head, but found her bones had turned to iron. Lifting so much as a finger proved more trouble than it was worth, so she laid there, torn between consciousness and the black abyss coaxing her back into blissful nothingness. If she simply allowed herself to give in, to slip beneath the current once more, she would be spared the misery. She thought of Soren, then. Nan. Alaric.

Her thoughts, though sluggish, sharpened. They were waiting for her to return. She promised her little brother she’d come home.

And she would.

She vaguely remembered the strange woman in the woods, the pain in her neck, but little beyond it. The details themselves were incomplete, more impressions than actual memory, though she retained enough to know she’d been injured. And badly, if the throb along her neck and shoulder were any indication. Her body ached with fever, her joints stiff, skin slick with sweat. She was alive, that much she knew, yet her faculties had yet to be fully restored.

It took a moment for her to notice the errant hum in her ears. A steady pressure built within them, as though she were submerged in water and gradually sinking. Then, a sharp, clear note rose in torturous pitch, only to break and usher her into a cacophony of raised voices and scraping fabric. Boots scuffed along stone and she flinched at the sound, as if it were her own ear being ground against the floor.

Strong hands supported her shoulder and side and in her haze, she assumed it was Alaric. He must have gone out into the Fringe to search for her when she hadn’t returned home. Spirits’ breath, how long had she been unconscious? Hours? Days? He must have taken her to one of the healers, for the scent of medicinal herbs was strong. So much so, in fact, she wondered if her nose had been shoved directly into their preservation jars. There were other scents too, though they ranged in the dozens and were wholly unfamiliar.

She suspected she had taken a hit to the head. It would explain the ache, the blood, her erratic senses. A soft groan escaped her and she tried to focus on the voices in the room. She didn’t recognize any of them, nor could she comprehend their mutterings in the beginning. It was as though they were speaking nonsense. Or perhaps, some other language? At first, she understood none of it; it was foreign and clumsy to her uneducated ear. However, the more she listened, the more the strange tongue seemed to make sense.

They were arguing, that much was clear regardless of her increasing comprehension and about a girl, if she understood correctly. As they did, her mind gained new context. She associated previously unknown words with danger, unpredictable, monster.

Memories of an antlered figure surged into the light of her mind’s eye; of a stranger so gaunt and pale, she’d hardly resembled a living woman at all. She had been a corpse. One with eyes as bright and hot as twin embers in the night. Inerys had never seen anything like her, human or Adai. Was she one of the mist creatures responsible for those who never returned from the deepwoods?

Her fingers crawled toward the wound in her neck and the hands holding her stiffened. Where she expected to find a bandage or torn flesh, at the very least, she found smooth, yet uneven skin. She worriedly traced the slight raises and grooves, perplexed. Surely she hadn’t been taken to a sorcerer? She thought to voice the question, yet her tongue refused to cooperate. Instead, her stomach clenched and her body tensed with a sudden involuntary contraction. She tasted bile long before she wretched, the metallic undertones threatening to bring about another fit before she steeled herself and managed to shove the feeling down.

Panting, she allowed whomever was holding her to pull her away from the stinking mess. Fabric hissed against fabric and she grit her teeth, which only earned her a swift lance of pain through her jaw. Had she broken it? Her tongue poked at her inflamed gums, discovering holes in numerous places where teeth should have been. Her gut sank, panic spiked when something sharp punctured the tip of her probing tongue. Had she been struck so hard her teeth were broken? Or was it splintered bone?

Mirror.

She needed a mirror.

Inerys peeked open bleary eyes, only to be utterly blinded by light. Flinching, she shut them tight once more as color exploded behind her eyelids. Spirits’ breath, she may as well have been staring directly at the sun. She allowed herself a moment to adjust before she hesitantly peered about the room.

It was at least twice the size of her own bedroom, the objects within blurry and indistinct as her eyes struggled to adjust. The pair who argued nearby were tall, though appeared more like silhouettes than people. A third individual stood silent beside the bed in front of her, save for their incessant heartbeat. The fact Inerys could distinguish it so clearly startled her and she tried to peer around to see whomever it was who was holding her. She caught the flash of an older man’s face as it leeched of color. He quickly released her, leaping back and away with wide eyes.

Inerys gave a start, given the man clearly wasn’t Alaric. He was no Hound either, nor was he pureblood. The structure of his face was all wrong - sharp featured and refined - with ears far too long. They sat higher along the skull, dagger-like, narrow and near the length of a man’s hand from wrist to fingertip. For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. He was an actual Adai. He had to be.

“Rhydian!” The man shouted.

Her brow furrowed. Whatever language he spoke was still new to her, yet known, somehow. She suddenly understood with the clarity of a native.

Dazed, she raised a hand to rub her eyes in an attempt to correct her sight. Light flooded her field of vision, blue and bright. She attempted to swat it away, yet it merely followed the path of her hand. Squinting, she tried to determine the source, finding fine, complex webbing along her hand and fingers. It spanned up the length of her arm too, where it faded above her elbow. Faint wisps of light leaked from the fissures, curling gently in the air as if her skin was steaming.

Fear gripped her, along with another sensation she couldn’t quite place. Instinct, perhaps? Heat surged through her veins, momentarily chasing away the pain and causing her to bolt upright. The bed cracked under the sudden force, the center sagging inward under her weight. Each end pitched at an odd angle as it folded in on itself. Gasping, Inerys lunged to the side to escape its jaws, but inadvertently launched herself into the far wall half a dozen feet away. She sucked in a startled breath, her lungs barking in protest.

The light filtering in through the window above her warmed her skin, then seared it.

A scream tore free from her throat, raw and shrill and utterly inhuman as her skin burned. It sizzled and popped along the back of her neck and shoulder where her thin shift left it exposed to the sun. Shielding her face with a trembling hand, she tried to right herself with the other and push herself up using the edge of the windowsill to her back. However, the force of her arm broke the ledge and it crumbled beneath her palm.

“The window!” A woman shouted, splintering Inerys’ too-sensitive ears.

A strong, calloused hand grasped her unburnt wrist and yanked her into the shadow of the room. She fell to the floor, knees buckling. The relief left her gasping, though the air stunk of fat and burnt flesh. The wound hissed, its acute sting arcing through her back and down the length of her spine. She grit her teeth through the agony, spots dancing in her vision. The layers of ruined skin began to simmer and undulate, like a host of maggots writhing within the affected tissue. As the sensation overcame her, the pain ebbed.

She laid there as seconds crawled by, her knuckles white where she gripped the strewn sheets draped over the edge of the bed. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until her glowing fingers came away wet when she wiped at her eyes. Sniffling, she attempted to gather herself, knees tucked toward her chest. Her legs bore the same luminescent fractals, coming to fine points midway up her thighs.

“Easy,” a man soothed in a low, pleasantly tempered voice, “no one make any sudden moves - Ayduin, get that blade back in its sheath!”

Inerys’ gaze shot up, body stiffening. Deep down, something stirred in response to the threat. A predator ready to pounce. Or, a desperate animal ready to fight.

A monster of a man approached, hands raised in a placating manner. Calling him a man at all might have been generous, for his features were sharp and vulpine, his height easily surpassing Alaric’s. His dark, blue-gray skin stood in such stark contrast to anything she’d ever seen, she wondered if he had been born of the deepwoods themselves like some nightmare-born spirit.

And his eyes-

The irises were large and lanturn-like, dominating the majority of the eyes themselves, save the corners where glossy black filled what visible space remained. They were slightly larger than what she would deem normal with an angular, predatory quality. While they bore a pupil, there were no whites to be found. His, a stormy gray with the faintest hints of silver, seemed to stare right through her.

Her heart raced, certain this man, this creature, would end her. She hadn’t failed to notice he bore short claws at the ends of his long fingers instead of nails. He could disembowel her with half a thought. Or simply crush her in his arms, given his size. She may as well be a child to him.

He had yet to make so much as a step toward her, though.

Why hadn’t he struck?

Better yet, why was she here at all?

The man waited, assessing her. Not in the manner a fox might eye a hen, but rather how a predator might study a potential rival. It puzzled her, after all, what threat could she possibly pose?

She dared a glance beyond him, where the three others stood. The man who had leapt away from her was holding a golden-haired woman back near the door and it was then Inerys noted how similar their eyes were to those of the man before her. They were similar enough in appearance, though it could be argued they were as similar in facial structure as a shepherd was to a wolf. Was this man some sort of Adai, then?

The final stranger, a woman, was clearly of similar stock to the man with her dusky skin and keen eyes. She even shared the same long, black braid. Unlike her counterpart, she glared in open hostility, her long ears tilted back ever so gently as if pinned. Inerys imagined she was this Ayduin the man had barked at to sheath her weapon, given her hand still rested on what appeared to be a dagger hilt.

“Where am I?” Inerys managed, voice hoarse in her sandy throat.

“Safe,” the man said, “There’s no reason to be afraid. You’ve given us all a fright, that’s all.”

Were she not petrified, she may have laughed. She’d given them a fright? They were the monsters here, not her.

“I - what happened? Who are you?” She asked, clammy fingers still locked around the sheets.

“Rhydian,” he said, “As for what happened, I was hoping you could tell us. How much do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” she admitted, voice catching, “There was this woman in the woods and . . . she hurt me. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

His lips drew into a grim line and his face grew all the more harsh for it, “You were bleeding out when I found you, but she’s dead, rest assured. She won’t be able to harm you any longer.”

Hot tears brimmed in her eyes as her throat threatened to constrict.

“What was she?” She whispered.

Something in his alien gaze softened.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “but I suppose I could ask you the same: what are you?”

Her brow knit. “I’m a Hound. A half breed.”

She thought her ears were evidence enough of the fact, though his confusion only appeared to deepen.

“A halfbreed?”

“Part human, part Adai,” she said, her flushed cheeks darkening further with something akin to embarrassment. If these strangers truly were Adai, then she assumed she would be just as much a mongrel in their eyes as she was to the purebloods.

The revelation sent quiet murmurings among the other three.

“Human. I see,” he said, his eyes growing distant for a moment before he asked, “Can you tell me why you were so far into the Veil? How you managed to evade the patrols?”

“The Veil? You mean the deepwoods? I’ve never heard of any patrols, least of all seen any,” she said, wondering what he was talking about.

His confusion mirrored her own, it seemed.

He asked with a degree of hesitance, “Where did you come from, exactly?”

A sense of dread began to settle in her gut. She was nowhere near home, was she? Her head grew light, eyelids fluttering a moment as she swayed where she sat.

A woman spoke up, tone impatient as it was anxious, “Sky’s mercy, Rhydian, can’t you see she needs medical attention? Am I the only one who saw her burn?”

She broke free of the other man’s hold and shrugged his hand away when he tried to restrain her a second time.

“That thing is dangerous,” he protested.

“And you’re a coward,” she hissed, fixing him with a glare.

A muscle flickered along Rhydian’s jaw. “She’s right, we should have a look at your back. May we?”

Hesitantly, Inerys nodded.

He beckoned the woman forward.

“This is Sorisanna,” he said and drew something from behind the bed.

It was a smooth length of short rope with what appeared to be some sort of woven wire lined through it.

She tensed, nostrils flaring. “What’s that for?”

“Only precaution,” he said, “I need to ensure the situation is safe for everyone involved.”

Safe?

He seemed to read the unspoken question in her expression and he said, “The woman who attacked you was deceptively strong and she hurt a lot of good people. I’ve seen that same strength in you, to a lesser extent perhaps, but I’m sure you can understand my hesitation.”

“I remember,” she whispered and knew exactly what he was implying. “I’m not - I won’t hurt anyone.”

She didn’t think she could, even if she wanted to. Though, the broken bed and stone windowsill were rather alarming. She was a fit woman, but her strength had never broken furniture or masonry before. Maybe the incidents were flukes? There was still a chance she was hallucinating, right? For all she knew, this was all some lucid fever dream.

Her gut told her it wasn’t.

The woman, Ayduin, remained unconvinced, her pinkish, gold-rimmed eyes narrowing on Inerys. She appeared ready to pounce if Inerys so much as twitched. Of the two, she had the feeling she was the more dangerous. Or at least, the one more apt to strike first and ask questions later.

“I’m afraid I need more than your word, right now,” he said.

She stared down at the strange bindings and sucked in a shuddering breath. While she supposed he could have bound her by force, she wasn’t keen on willingly allowing herself to be restrained. Not that she supposed she had much choice.

“You’ll remove them once she’s done?” She asked.

“If you prove I can trust you,” he said.

Could she trust him?

Trust ran both ways, she remembered and though it may have been foolish, she reluctantly released her death grip on the sheets to offer him her wrists.

Nodding, Rhydian approached, every muscle of his body taught. His heartbeat was loud, erratic. The rhythm alternated between quick bursts and seemingly forcibly halted measures, as if he were somehow actively attempting to rein in his nerves the way one might an excited horse. The sound stirred something and she grew hungry. She likely hadn’t eaten in days and blamed the span of time for the sudden onset.

She remained utterly still as he cautiously crouched in front of her, searching her face with furrowed brows. He expertly bound her wrists, enough to keep the rope tight and secure without brutalizing her already marred skin in the process. Once he was finished, he tested them and spared a glance toward her neck. She swore a flicker of guilt passed behind those intrusive eyes, but he stepped back before she had the chance to linger on it.

Rounding the bed, Sorisanna paused a respectful distance away. Her smile was gentle, her skin a light bronze the huntress had never seen before. It exuded a radiant, inner light, as if the summer sun had settled just beneath the surface. Unabashed curiosity brimmed in her deep green eyes and she bowed, her braid of beaten gold falling forward as she did.

“I apologize, it seems we’ve all forgotten our manners,” she said, laying her hand over her heart. “What is your name?”

She hadn’t realized no one had asked, “Inerys,” she said, “Inerys Adosin.”

Her smile grew. “It’s good to meet you, Inerys. May I have a look at your back?”

“Please,” she murmured.

It didn’t hurt anymore, but she wasn’t sure such was a good thing. Easing the ache in her knees, she adjusted how she sat while the sage turned her attention to her back. A hitched breath escaped the woman’s lips, soft, yet grating, in a way. Each and every sense Inerys possessed had been reduced to a raw, exposed nerve that required the barest provocation to ignite. The only one remotely cooperative at present, was her sight, now that the heavy curtains had been drawn shut since her spontaneous combustion.

“How bad is it?” She dared ask.

Sorisanna’s fingers were warm along her skin, yet chased gooseflesh down her back and arms. Her touch was careful, contemplative and glided over what felt like smooth skin, rather than an open burn. The huntress stifled her shiver, having expected pain. In its place, was a dull tingling sensation.

“There’s nothing here,” the sage said with a note of fascination.

That . . . couldn’t be right.

Rhydian shifted, still standing in front of her with arms crossed.

“Nothing at all?” He asked.

“Just a bit of red skin. See for yourself,” she said.

“Sky’s mercy,” he muttered, having circled around behind her as well.

“We should get her to another room,” Sorisanna said, drawing a throw blanket from the bed and stooping to wrap it about Inerys’ shoulders.

“We should deal with it before it becomes a threat,” Ayduin said, voice sharp.

“That’s enough, secondrider,” Rhydian said, voice low in warning, “your concern is noted.”

“Is it? Vesryn seems to be the only other person in this room with any sense. We saw what the first one was capable of. Now we have one in our own home and you two want to what, nurse it back to health?”

The tension in the room grew palpable and Inerys held her breath.

Rhydian’s tone held an edge when he said, “We’re not doing this in here, Ayduin. Get to the lift and wait for me there. I'll deal with you in a moment.”