Page 18

Chapter 18

The Dynami Barracks

“ H ave you lost your mind?” Elnok questioned.

Ironic, he realized, that he’d decided to choose such words, considering a monster had taken over his mind only moments ago. He remembered grabbing the compass from the pool’s tiles, a black substance floating in the water, and then everything turning cold. From then on, it was as if he had been watching through someone else’s eyes—holding Sylzenya by the throat, demanding she explain why the poison didn’t infect her. Every inch of his skin fell prey to someone else’s eyes, his whole body thrumming with the monster’s sole instinct: protect the compass.

But the monster’s intent had been interrupted by the pain in Elnok’s back, searing white hot until he heaved everything out of his stomach, just like with the wine and the plum.

Even now, Elnok’s mind continued to be consumed by a thick fog, but he forced himself to stay focused; he needed to stop Sylzenya from telling the High One any of this.

“You said you saw Aretta’s Willow in Lhaal Forest, so we’ll need a Dynami if we’re going to stand a chance against more monsters,” Sylzenya said, leading them out of the healing pool room and into one of the willow groves in the main hallway. He was shivering, both of them soaked. “We can only get a Dynami with the High One’s approval. And besides, he needs to know about this. What if there are more ichthys’ in the pool? What if it attacks a Kreena or acolyte next?”

“There are no others,” Elnok replied, the sensations of the creature’s poison still fresh in his body. “It’d been there, alone, for centuries, doing nothing but guarding this compass by redirecting people with its poison. I could sense it, all of its… loneliness.” He pointed to the compass in her hand. “It had every intent to kill when we took it.”

“So let’s perform our due diligence and inform the High One immediately.”

“Look, I know you feel obligated to tell your ever-gracious leader everything, but now isn’t the time.”

“This isn’t about how I feel,” she argued, her voice rising. “It’s about making sure no one else gets hurt . ”

“And I’m telling you there aren’t any more monsters in there.”

“Better to be safe than one of my people dead in the morning.”

“It is safe. Anyways, we’ll be thrown in the dungeons if we say anything.”

She flared her nostrils. “You’d risk people’s lives for the well-being of yours?”

“Ah, I see now.” Elnok leaned forward, spinning his gold ring. “You’ve just been wanting to find this compass because you believe it’ll put you in good standing with the High One again.”

She scoffed. “That’s not true.”

He traced the gold chain on her neck before tapping the orodyte. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Eyes widening, she lifted her hand to slap his face, but he stopped her, gripping her wrist before she could land the blow.

“Do not touch me?—”

Covering her mouth with his other hand, he spun her around, forcing them deeper into the grove, her muffled screams hopefully getting lost in the thick branches and leaves. He held Sylzenya tight to his chest.

“I need you to understand the predicament we’re in,” Elnok whispered into her ear, dodging her attempted headbutt, “The High One told you to never talk about Aretta’s Willow, claiming it was a myth, and then we’re nearly killed by a centuries-old monster guarding the one item that can lead us to the willow? And let’s not forget how you proceeded to lie to the High One yesterday, pretending you weren’t still seeking out the tree, then immediately following up with telling your friend that you were trying to find it. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

She stepped on his foot, a sharp pain rising up his ankle. A groan escaped his mouth as he cursed.

He continued anyways, “Not only is there no situation in this in which we aren’t imprisoned, but none of your people can be trusted until we know what’s going on.”

Especially the High One.

She stopped flailing.

He didn’t loosen his grasp. “If your people’s lore is correct, then this tree is the last remaining source of your goddess’ power, and yet, someone in Estea didn’t want this compass to be found. Until we know more, we can’t tell anyone, or the dungeons may be the least of our problems.”

They stood in silence. Finally, her breaths evened out, her body relaxing in his arms. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, loosening his grasp around her waist.

She turned, her eyes glassy. “I know who you think’s behind this, but I promise you, he isn’t. The High One would never…”

Suddenly, her arms shook, her pupils far too big.

“Sylzenya,” Elnok gently whispered, “I need you to take a deep breath.”

“And I need you to release me.”

He held his hands up. “Fine. Just try to calm dow?—”

Her eyes rolled back, her knees giving out as she stumbled on a root.

Before she fell, he caught her in an embrace. Her muscles stiffened, followed by a shudder against his chest. With a strength he didn’t know she possessed, she wrapped her arms around him, fingers digging into his wet tunic while a silent sob wracked her body.

He clutched her tighter, tangling his fingers in her wet hair.

Memories of his escape from Vutror’s dungeons flooded him: the way he’d fallen to his knees and rid himself of his royal cloak, praying beyond all hope no one would recognize him as he got up and ran through the dead woods; trying to find shelter before his brother’s guards killed him; arriving in a village late in the night; a woman taking him in and offering him a fresh bath and a warm bed for the night. He’d cried like this, his pillow damp and his body convulsing.

And so he held Sylzenya as if he embraced a part of himself.

“It’s alright,” he whispered into her ear, soft and gentle, “You’re alright. We survived.”

But Sylzenya didn’t respond, shaking harder instead, tears spilling down his neck as she mumbled words he couldn’t understand.

“Everything’s wrong,” she finally whispered. “The High One keeping my cure from me, Nyla refusing to help us, a monster in the goddess’ healing pool…”

He stroked her hair. “We need to be careful.”

Shuddering, she took a deep breath against his neck, her warm lips grazing his skin. He gripped her tighter. As long as she was next to him, he would do everything within his power to keep her safe. He’d tackle a hundred ichthys’ if that’s what it took.

“If we’re going to find the willow, then we need a Dynami,” she finally said.

“What if I told you we already have one?”

When Elnok first laid eyes on Sylzenya two nights ago, she’d been on the temple’s balcony, preaching to her people, weakness rippling across her masked confidence.

But now, he realized, it hadn’t been weakness at all. As she stood next to him outside the Dynami barracks, explaining to the guards why she needed to escort Elnok into the sanctum, he could see how all her “tells” were simply an act.

In the coastal villages, Elnok had no choice but to present himself as callous and impenetrable, otherwise, thieves and pirates would raid his and his crew’s supplies. But in Estea, a mask of intimidation garnered suspicion.

Esteans desires were at odds when it came to their chosen one—the Kreena destined to save them from the famine. They wanted her to be both powerful and meek—an impossible combination. And yet, she did it seamlessly, pouring power into the ground while bringing laughter to their faces.

Only moments ago she’d been shivering in shock from the monster in the healing pool; the monster she’d killed with his dagger and her blood.

It was a strange comfort, knowing that despite the carefree smile she offered the guard, she was scared.

Elnok’s mouth dried as she glanced at him, a small rush of heat crawling up his neck. He issued his own carefree grin, so opposed to the sweat covering his back. A secret shared between them, as if they were the only ones capable of smelling the sharp salt in the air before an approaching storm.

And yet, despite the impending danger, Elnok ceased spinning his ring.

They would face it together.

Warmth enveloped his chest. He let his eyes wander along Sylzenya’s face—her sharp features softened by her full lips, her slender neck decorated with the glimmering gold chain, the piece of clear orodyte settled between the gracious curves of her breasts. The front of his pants suddenly tightened.

He clamped his jaw, turning his gaze to the sandstone pillars, taking measured breaths. He’d known she was beautiful the first night he saw her, but everything she’d represented at the time had been everything he hated: ignorant power; thoughtless obedience. But now…

Rarely did someone surprise him as much as Sylzenya had.

“Very well,” one of the guards said to her, waking Elnok from his thoughts, “While we don’t believe Prince Elnok to be carrying the continent’s curse of famine and sickness, we understand it’s frightened the villagers. We’ll allow you to escort him. We’ll have the Dynami you requested meet you both in the barracks’ drinking room. If you’d follow us, please.”

The Dynami barracks, while still grand, were far less ostentatious than the temple. The ceilings were no taller than a typical home, and green vines draped down the sandstone walls, spilling onto the floor. Glittering streams lined either side of the hallways, the waters filled with red and yellow fish. The air smelled of newly brandished metal and lingering sweat.

The guards opened two large wooden doors, beckoning them inside. Dark wooden tables and chairs filled the large room while vines looped around stone rafters, dangling from the ceiling. Elnok counted five Dynami, three of them huddled together, discussing a serious issue over wine while two others sat at the long bar, drunk.

Great.

A large indented circle took up the middle of the room, its surface not made of marble like the rest of the flooring, but dirt.

The guard motioned for them to sit at a table.

Cold bit into Elnok’s skin through his damp clothes as he sat on the wooden chair, Sylzenya’s arms pimpling next to him. They’d dried off the best they could before leaving the temple, none of the priestesses or guards batting an eye when they’d wished them farewell. The only evidence of their visit to the healing pool was the compass, which was safely stored in one of Sylzenya’s pockets.

“What’s the circle for?” Elnok whispered.

Sylzenya shrugged. “I know little of what Dynameis do behind their walls?—”

Multiple glasses suddenly shattered, causing Elnok to flinch and reach for his dagger.

“It’s a duel, then,” one of the drunk Dynameis said as he stood up, his hair a tuft of orange in the torch’s glow. “Unless you think you’ll lose?”

The other Dynami cackled. “In your dreams.”

“Careful now; we have guests.” The bartender motioned to Elnok and Sylzenya.

The Dynameis halted, surprise lighting their faces.

“It can’t be, can it? The Prince of Vutror and our most holy of Kreenas? I’ll be damned.” The orange-haired Dynami pointed a finger at them. “How’s about whoever wins in our duel gets the lady for a night, hm?”

Elnok’s insides boiled as he gripped his dagger’s hilt.

“Hold your tongue,” another shouted, “Such talk is meant for behind closed doors. Leave them be.”

Elnok clenched his jaw.

The drunk Dynameis gawked. “It was merely a jest?—”

“Do you not take Aretta’s task of celibacy seriously?” Sylzenya asked, standing up. Her ash-colored hair flowed to her waist in gentle waves, her countenance as sturdy as jagged rocks on shore. “Because if you do not, I’ll gladly let the High One know you wish to see a shift in such laws.”

Both of their faces blanched.

“Your Holiness, it really was a simple jest . No harm’s been done, so please, let’s move on from the outrageous subject,” the orange-haired Dynami stammered as he and the other Dynami entered the dirt circle.

“Very well,” Sylzenya replied, returning to her seat.

Elnok left his dagger at his thigh, crossing his arms, studying Sylzenya. Her face turned red as she avoided his stare. He liked this, watching her become flustered, knowing he was the reason behind it. She’d reprimanded this Dynami for wanting to break his celibacy vow—as if he hadn’t already—and yet, she’d confessed to Elnok she’d done the very same a few years ago.

Sacred and profane, holy and wicked; she danced between these elements, somehow striking a balance in their liminal space. A glorious woman, indeed.

“Prince Elnok,” Kharis exclaimed, the warrior quickly making his way to their table, his green and brown leather armor replaced with a white linen shirt and dark pants, his golden hair tied in a topknot. “I was beginning to worry you’d been thrown into the dungeons with all the rumors of your curse.”

Elnok rolled his eyes as he welcomed Kharis to sit. The bartender served them each a glass of red wine. Its potent stench curled along Elnok’s nostrils; he pushed it aside. Sylzenya did as well.

Kharis drank his swiftly.

“So, Prince, what brings you to see me?” the warrior asked, his bright smile stained with wine.

Elnok took a deep breath, motioning for Kharis to lean in.

“We found Aretta’s Willow,” Elnok whispered.

Kharis’s eyes widened as a sharp wind rushed by, a crackling sound flooding the room. The two Dynameis had begun their fight, their veins glowing a bright yellow, matching the orodyte strapped to their chests.

“Never mind them. It’s just a duel, and these two imbeciles do it far too often,” Kharis replied, grabbing Elnok’s shoulder. “Where is it?”

Elnok turned to Sylzenya. Carefully, she motioned for Kharis to observe the compass underneath the table. They all looked, the golden case gleaming with the bright yellow glow.

“A compass?”

“The tree is always moving,” Sylzenya whispered, “Its needle is a part of the tree’s bark, and so it always points towards its home.”

Bright light and crackles of magic filled the air, providing the perfect distraction from potential prying eyes.

“I’ll be damned,” Kharis said, leaning back and staring at Sylzenya. “Does the High One know of this?”

Her nostrils flared as she shook her head.

“Why not?” Kharis questioned.

Sylzenya took in a deep breath, “We wish to find it first and then present it to him.”

“That won’t do. You need to tell him immediately,” Kharis replied.

Kharis’ words caught Elnok off guard.

“You were the one who told me to be cautious of him,” Elnok interjected.

“ Kharis is the reason you don’t trust the High One?” Sylzenya leaned forward, turning to the warrior. “But you’re his closest of warriors. The greatest Dynami we’ve had in centuries.”

“Both of you, stop,” Kharis replied, “Elnok, I fear I’ve misguided you.”

Elnok straightened his back, confusion tugging at his muscles. “Misguided me?” He lowered his voice further. “Do we need to move this conversation… elsewhere?”

Another crack of power, a wind sweeping Elnok’s hair in his face.

“Elnok, the tree can’t heal your friend or brother.”

He stared at the warrior, gauging for any false pretenses, a signal perhaps that this was code for something else, it had to be. Kharis was the one who told him about the tree in the first place.

“Now you choose to humor me?” Elnok replied, “Look, now that we can locate Aretta’s Willow, we need to go into Lhaal Forest as soon as possible. Sylzenya and I agree that going in tonight would be best.”

Kharis’ eyes turned to Elnok’s full wine glass, his fingers tapping the wood table. He said nothing.

“I’m going to get a different glass of wine. I’m not too keen on this one.” Sylzenya left them, walking around the fighting Dynameis and finding a seat at the wooden bar.

“You’ve been here three days and still refuse the wine?” Kharis questioned.

“What does that have to do with any of this? Kharis, we found the godsdamn tree. We’re going to heal Orym and my brother.”

“They’re gone, Elnok.”

Air rushed out of his lungs, like he’d been hit in the gut.

“No,” Elnok stammered, shifting his gaze to Sylzenya, her eyes wide in worry as she sipped on her new glass of wine. “Orym has a few more days left. And as far as my brother goes?—”

“None of it matters anymore,” Kharis pressed, pushing the wine glass towards Elnok’s hand. “The only reason I had any faith in the damn thing was because of a wayward dream I had when I was a child, nothing more. Even if it exists, we’ll never make it in time. Besides, who’s to say the tree can still heal? It’s been centuries. Best we move on with our lives than linger on that which is already gone.”

Heat and cold swirled in Elnok’s veins, his fingers shaking as he leaned across the table, forcing Kharis to look in his eyes. A bright light erupted from the Dynameis behind him, the two warriors yelling, one of them landing a hard punch to the other’s face. It reminded him of his blacksmith master, the way the man would hit him for every mistake Elnok made. It reminded him of Tosh, how his brother seared him with fire out of madness.

If it hadn’t been for Orym, Elnok would’ve drowned in those memories.

If it wasn’t for Orym, Elnok would’ve jumped off that damned cliffside.

“You told me you loved my brother,” Elnok whispered.

“A foolish act.”

Elnok scoffed. “You see reason now, is it? Then that is foolishness, claiming to love someone when you would let them die without a fight.” He leaned closer. “Seems as if you never truly cared for him.”

He waited for the warrior’s veins to pulse, for his power to ignite, for his anger to consume him. Elnok had seen the deep love Kharis held for his brother, and even though he didn’t understand it, he needed a Dynami to get them through Lhaal Forest. He needed Kharis to find hope again.

“Perhaps I didn’t,” Kharis replied.

Elnok’s heart stopped as another crack of power rumbled through the room.

“If this is to get back at me for my heinous comments about how I felt about you two, then fine, I apologize, truly. But we can’t find this tree without you.”

“Kharis, we’re grateful you made time for us,” Sylzenya interjected, a small smile lining her lips as she approached the table, “I can see now where I’ve gone awry. I’ll go ahead and deliver the compass to the High One when I have my meeting with him tomorrow and allow him to decide what we’ll do with it.”

“ What ?” Elnok questioned. “Sylzen?—”

“She’s right, Elnok,” Kharis said as he stood, his broad shoulders somehow looking smaller than when he had first come in. “The continent outside of Estea is nearing its end. If I were you, I’d finalize those treaty revisions and then see if the High One would allow you permanent residence here as an ambassador.” The warrior gripped his shoulder, a sad smile on his mouth. “You’re safer here with us.”

Before Elnok could argue, the warrior dismissed himself, thanking Sylzenya as the large wood doors shut behind him with a thud. Elnok steadied himself with his chair, wrestling against the truth he wanted to ignore.

Kharis had wanted to find Aretta’s Willow; he’d been fervent in making sure Elnok’s brother lived a long life. He’d made it seem as if the treaty revisions were unimportant in comparison to finding the tree.

And yet, Kharis no longer wanted his brother.

But why?

“Come on,” Sylzenya whispered. Grabbing his arm, she led him past the now bloodied Dynami warriors and into the sparkling hallway. “Lingering will do us no good.”

Elnok lowered his voice. “I refuse to take this compass to the High One.”

“As do I,” she replied quietly, “so we better sit down and figure out a plan for how we’re going to get through Lhaal Forest alive.”

Elnok’s panic eased. Heat rose in his cheeks.

“Not a bad idea,” he replied.

Sylzenya smirked. “I’m well aware.”

Despite Kharis’ change in perspective, Elnok wouldn’t let it change his goal. He needed the tree whether there was a safe route through Lhaal or not, and if there was anything he was becoming more sure of, it was his and Sylzenya’s ability to do the impossible.

They would get to Aretta’s Willow, and they’d do it with or without a Dynami. He’d fight all of Distrathrus’ monsters if it meant saving Orym’s life.