Empire of Night

Chapter Fifty-Six

The Dreamscape

Inerys couldn't breathe.

She could only stare as her stunned mind grasped for answers. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real, yet reality gazed back all the same.

Intimidating as the figure was, she slowly began to realize this wasn't the same deranged creature who had attacked her in the woods. The antlers, fangs and taloned fingers were all familiar, yes, but they were also where the similarities ended. Skin which had once been listless, ashen and drawn too tightly over entirely too much bone was instead peerless and radiant. Its silvery hue stood in stark contrast to the maroon of her robes, her figure strong and full and every bit as graceful as the mountain cats who stalked Inerys' homeland.

There was a severity to her beauty, yet rather than detract, the predatory edge highlighted her otherwise ageless face. It marked her not as adai, or even human, but something else entirely. And her eyes– spirits, they were almost motherly.

They studied Inerys with both pride and something akin to relief. Neither of which made any sense until she recalled Sorisanna's earlier insights into the possible motives behind her attack. The sudden understanding had her blood roaring in her ears and when the woman stepped forward to take her cheek, she flinched away. Her attacker paused, then searched her face in silent consideration. Her clawed fingers twitched, but withdrew as she straightened.

"I am not blind to the fact this was not your choice," she said, "but I had no alternative."

"Alternative?" Inerys breathed.

She glanced toward Sorisanna, as if she could somehow make sense of all this, but the sage wasn't there. Nor were her supplies. This wasn't even her medical tent anymore.

In the space of a glance, the world around Inerys had changed. Tall white trees stood in place of the canvas walls she'd grown so accustomed to, their broad canopies harboring wide, star-shaped leaves of richest red. Dusk painted the sky beyond in shades of blue and gold, though little of its light filtered in through the branches. Creeping thyme dominated the forest floor, covering rock and soil alike where soft grasses and ferns did not intrude.

Inerys was no longer upon the cot either, but rather a long, flat boulder covered in plush, green moss. She searched the surrounding trees, but there was no sign of Sorisanna or Ephaxus. Or any of the others, for that matter. She was alone. Her breath hitched and in her anxiety, she drove her claws into the substrate.

"What have you done?" She demanded.

"I accepted your invitation."

Despite her initial fear, she nearly scoffed, "Invitation? I wanted to talk, not be stolen away. Where are we?"

"The psionic plane," the woman said, walking a slow circle around the boulder in her appraisal, "Though I'm told some know it as the Dreamscape."

Inerys had never heard anything of the sort, though she carefully lifted her fingers from the moss to inspect the damp remnants caught beneath her claws. The moisture was cool along her skin, as was the breeze carrying an earthen musk through the trees. She didn't quite understand; the scents, the sounds, the solidity of the stone beneath her, were all correct.

"This is a dream?"

The woman canted her head, "Yes and no. This is a memory of sorts, but it is also a place within the plane. However, the exact location of it is . . . nebulous. The realm of the psionic is one only the mind can touch."

"Am I asleep, then? In the real world?"

"In the physical? In a manner of speaking, yes."

"That's hardly comforting."

"Your body is safe," she assured, "as are your soul bonds."

Inerys allowed herself a shallow sigh of relief. She shifted onto her knees, not quite defensive, but guarded. There was no telling what power the woman might wield in a place like this and she wasn't wholly convinced she meant her no harm. Sorisanna's assumptions, while well founded, were still only theory.

"You've spoken to me before without the need to come here," she said, "what changed?"

"Your willingness to embrace me. Along with the completion of your transfiguration, of course."

She schooled her expression, even as the hair along the back of her neck began to rise, "Your blood was the final piece, wasn't it?"

"For those who are Made, as you were, the blood of the progenitor stabilizes the body and completes the transformation. I must admit, mine was a distant hope when I happened upon you. Bestowing the gift of the blood upon those of such delicate spirit is forbidden precisely because so few survive," she said, "to see you have not only endured, but flourished, is nothing short of astonishing."

Deep down, Inerys had to admit some small part of her preened in light of the woman's admiration. However, the quiet resentment she'd harbored these last few months wanted nothing more than to smother the feeling and find a way to deny this woman her satisfaction. Her approval meant nothing. Not when her actions had nearly cost Inerys her life.

Slowly, her hands balled into fists. Her claws flexed, digging into her palm, but she didn't feel it. It was all she could do to quell the sudden rage roiling in her heart.

"You said you had no alternative. I want to know why–"

A tremor rumbled through the world a heartbeat before it fractured like broken glass. Entire trees were bisected and offset, leaving the forest a disjointed mess of mis-matched trunks, displaced rock and scattered light. The woman flinched as the scene splintered anew, only this time, they weren't in the forest, but some grand stone chamber.

Bodies lay strewn across the floor, twisted over tables and smeared in bloody bits along the white and gold marble of the surrounding walls. There was neither movement nor sound, yet the smell– spirits, Inerys could live a thousand years and never be rid of it. In truth, it reminded her of her first botched hunt. Not only had she punctured the stomach of her quarry with an ill-aimed arrow, but she'd also slit the intestines in her haste to salvage the hide. The rancid combination of blood and bile would always haunt her, though here, it was magnified tenfold. Her hands were sticky with it, talons caked with gore and flesh she realized, to her horror, was still warm.

Whether the sharp inhale was hers, or her attackers, she couldn't say, but the massacre vanished as abruptly as it had materialized around her. The forest returned, perfect and pristine and for a moment, all Inerys could do was stare. Her hands were clean, even of the mossy soil, yet the sensation of the damp, remnant heat remained. She should be horrified, she thought. Sick, even. Instead, she felt cold. Hollowed out.

What she'd witnessed had been a memory. Of that, she had no doubt. Worse, though, was the fact she knew beyond doubt who had been responsible for the carnage.

Slowly, her eyes slid toward her captor.

What she saw was neither the monster she remembered from her own encounter, nor the regal matriarch she'd found in its stead. The woman before her was a shell. She knelt upon the forest floor, hunched and trembling with her spindly fingers cradling her pale face. Her claws had grown long and metallic in a vain attempt to shield her eyes. They were wide, sightless and tormented by a certain soul-deep mortification Inerys had never seen, yet would never forget.

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In truth, she was too taken aback to speak and she struggled to reconcile all she'd experienced with the despondent husk at her feet. None of it made any sense. Was it a game? A test? Or had she stumbled across some living nightmare she knew nothing about?

"Had I not found you," the woman rasped, "I would have been the last. They would have won."

A chill lanced the length of Inerys' spine. The last of what? More importantly, who were they? Did she mean Rhydian and the others? It was the most likely explanation, wasn't it?

"What happened?" She asked.

The woman whipped around to face her, "You need to leave. You need to find Mraize."

"Mraize?" She asked, brow knit. Though she recognized the name from her passenger's fractured thoughts, she still hadn't the slightest idea who he was.

Before she knew it, the woman had her by the shoulder, face mere inches from hers in her urgency, "I know you have no reason to trust me, but you must find him. He has to know my mantle survived."

Inerys whimpered when she felt the woman's grip tighten and for a moment, she found herself the same frightened girl she had been in the woods. Psionic plane or no, this was real. This woman could hurt her, just as she had before.

Despite all her confusion, all her questions, all her panic, all she could manage in reply was, "I don't even know who you are."

The forest shifted and suddenly, her attacker was no longer on top of her, but resuming her steady walk around the boulder as if nothing at all had transpired in the interim. The abrupt change had Inerys' falling back into the moss and pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart beat so hard and so fast, she feared it might burst free entirely.

"Your progenitor," she said, giving Inerys a measured look, "I am Heratezra Amoneshae, Monarch of Saeducar and bearer of Restoration's mantle."

She broke into a cold sweat, "I– I don't understand."

"For better or worse, you bear more than my blood, child. My power may lay dormant, but it resides within you all the same. Whether you prove yourself worthy of its Inheritance or no, it must return to Saeducar. Go there, find Mraize. It isn't safe here."

"Is Saeducar across the sea? Beyond the stormwall?"

The fractured edge briefly returned to Heratezra's eyes, but she blinked it away and maintained her composure, "Yes."

"Then how am I supposed to find him? I thought passage was impossible?"

Only, that wasn't fully true, was it? Heratezra's knowing look told her she already knew the answer as well. Someone had crossed the sea already and they were waiting for her in Cyllicia.

"Mraize will have sent someone he trusts. Go to them, but be mindful of who you speak to and whom you place your trust in along the way. You never know where they may be watching."

"Who are they, exactly?"

"The Interlopers. I don't know their faces, but I do know their scent," she said.

The breeze shifted and upon it, came an odor reminiscent of the lye solutions Nan would use when washing clothes. There was a dryness to its pungency, a familiarness Inerys noticed, yet couldn't explain. Regardless, she committed it to memory.

"They weren't the ones pursuing you?" She asked, then bit her lips as she considered how to broach the subject, "the ones who–"

"Killed me? No. Your companion may have dealt the final blow, but I was dead long before. The Interlopers saw to that," she said, subconsciously brushing her fingers along a sudden dark stain between her breasts.

Curiously, the blood did not flow down as it might from an ordinary wound. Instead, it bubbled out into the air where it gathered and rippled like some floating, fluid serpent. A similar thread slithered out from her back as well, though quickly began to blacken and turn to ash on the wind.

"You know an awful lot, for a dead woman," Inerys said quietly.

"I may not be what I once was, but I can glean much from the connection we share. On the occasion you do not fight me, of course."

"If that's true, then you already know why I fought."

Heratezra regarded her for a long moment, "By chance or otherwise, you were my only option. I could lie, tell you I regret what transpired, but doing so would be a further disrespect. Hate me, if you wish, but know you must survive. You have proven yourself capable enough thus far, but I will intervene, if necessary."

"The way you did when Vesryn held Rhydian at knife-point?"

"Our interests were aligned, no? You knew there was only one safe outcome. All I did was grant you the means of doing it cleanly."

Inerys shuddered, but had to ask, "Were you the one who attacked him all those years ago?"

"I had never seen the man before in my life."

She searched her face for any hints of what might be a lie, but found none. It was a small relief, perhaps, but not a comforting one. If the eyes they shared had been what sent him over the edge, she wondered if his attacker somehow belonged to the same bloodline. Unless of course, all vampires shared the same coloration. Time would tell, she supposed.

"If I find this Mraize, what happens then?" She asked.

"He will ensure the continuation of my mantle."

"Through me?"

"If you prove yourself worthy of its Inheritance, yes."

Inerys didn't allow herself to consider the implications of what might happen, should she fail to do so.

"And what happens to you? Will you always be there, in my head?"

The woman's expression turned pensive as she clasped her hands behind her back, "For a time."

The woman appeared thin, somehow. Almost translucent. During the course of their conversation, Inerys hadn't noticed the fading details of the forest until now. The distant shadows were mere suggestions of trees, the moss and stone having lost its texture. Even the colors had begun to dull.

"You're weak, aren't you?" She asked.

"Creating a sanctuary within the plane requires energy I no longer have. It's taken me months to scrape together this much and even then, I wasn't sure whether or not communication was viable on this scale. It's likely I will not be able to do so again."

While Inerys felt she should be relieved, the thought of losing her passenger was a surprisingly unsettling one.

"But you'll still be in my head? In the splinter lodged in my soul?"

"For a time."

"What happens if I have questions? If I want to talk?"

"You've tasted my blood, no? Search my memories. They will be invaluable to you."

"But how do I access them? They haven't come to me the way the others' have."

"Because you have not let them. In your fear of me, you've subconsciously pushed them away. They must be embraced, accepted. When they are, they'll reveal themselves to you."

"It's that simple?"

"You've read those of others before," she said.

Her brow knit, "You can see them too?"

"Sometimes. But I cannot access them myself."

Inerys fidgeted, "It's . . . nice to know I've done something right. I feel as though I've been stumbling around in the dark."

"You have. Though, things will be different once you are in the hands of your kin."

"In the hands of the vampires," she said, not a question, but a statement.

Would they actually accept her? Or would they see her as some lost stray created by nothing more than ill circumstance? It was a question she'd never really considered until now. If she didn't belong with them and she no longer belonged with her own people, what would happen to her?

She thought of Nan and Soren and the fact they too were her kin. No matter how far she travelled or how different she may appear, nothing would change that. She only hoped one day, she could return home and prove the deepwoods held no claim to her.

Until then, she had Ephaxus and Rhydian and a host of former strangers she now called friends. She owed them more than she could ever put to words, if she were honest. After all, without their combined effort, she wouldn't be here.

"Can you assure my friends' safety, despite everything that's happened?" She asked.

"I am not blind to their part in your survival, child," Heratezra said, "They will not be harmed without due cause."

"You swear it?"

"On the integrity of my mantle," she said.

Inerys supposed it was all she could ask for. While she hadn't known it, reaching Cyllicia had been the goal from the start. However, now it seemed her path was inevitable. The vampires, and their mysterious home across the sea, were waiting for her. The best she could do now was stay vigilant, meditate on her progenitor's memories, and navigate whatever came next as best she could.

"You . . . weren't what I expected," she admitted.

The woman actually smiled, "Neither were you."