Unedited.
Chapter 34: The curious case of the vanishing Vidalin.
There was barely time for me to gloat over the sight of Damien standing there ashamed and drenched in water before a shuddering crash ripped attention towards the second fight unfolding in the arena.
My smile died, the shadows stilling as they twisted around my hands. It was a clash of fire and shadow, light and darkness between Ashlar and Nethore. I took an unconscious step forward as if my tiny frame would be any good in that fight, before Dem grabbed my shoulder.
"No." He shook his head as I looked back, his smile tiny but comforting.
My stomach clenched as I watched them, and the bond pulsed between us. I couldn't focus completely on the dragons sparring, too wired to let Damien out of my sight in case he tried to incinerate me again. Buzz was watching him with a terrible fury, her dark brows knotted, and I wanted to laugh at the tongue lashing he was going to get from her.
Bodies of scaled muscle and flame collided again, and I winced as most of the onlooking crowd did at the sound. Dragons fighting was undeniably vicious – a whirlwind of snapping jaws and the flash of ivory claws as they tried to sink their serrated teeth into their opponent's throat.
It was awful.
Yet, I found it oddly beautiful.
I still worried for Nethore, and I always would but watching the two dragons fight made me want to pull out my easel and try and capture the fluidity of their movements. Centuries of instinct, and training had honed them to fight like this and they did it with such elegant savagery that it deserved to be painted.
A cry rang out like a swelling wave, and the students scrambled back as molten fire spewed from Ashlar's maw. The shadows clinging to the corners of the pit shifted as Nethore snarled, his snout curled as it stuck to his scales.
Darkness curled around my wrist, a ready weapon as I stepped forward again, wanting to do something. Dem's fingers tightened on my shoulder.
"Neely. No. You'll ruin his pride if you interfere."
Dem was always right, but I couldn't curb the protective instincts broiling inside of me. I wondered if it was worse for Nethore- to have to be the stronger one of a pair and watching over a flesh-bag who was decidedly more vulnerable than him.
Nethore lunged, jerking up his head so his horns caught onto the underside of Ashlar's jaw. Muscles heaved, his body rippling as he pushed, his thick legs locking, then inching forward. Ashlar ripped his head away with a yelp, as the sharp ends of Nethore's horns cut into the sensitive scales at the underside.
They grappled again, and sand was thrown up in the maddened frenzy. I caught sight of a flickering barbed tail seconds before Ashlar gave a violent cry and scrabbled back, a deep flesh wound dug into his neck. There was blood dripping from Nethore's maw, a wound cut below his snout but it would heal.
Nethore watched Ashlar retreated with an unwavering gaze, and his barbed tail, bloodied from Ashlar, whipped out behind him. Pride churned in my chest as I watched him face down Ashlar with the confidence of an ancient being. It was in moments like this – where Nethore was roused from his usually stoic self when I felt the deepness to his soul. Like an ancient being was encased in obsidian, with centuries of knowledge born again when he hatched.
There was no seed of doubt in the bond between us – he was dominance embroiled in obsidian and he would fight until he could move no more.
The Vidalin didn't concede.
Not when he was a hatchling, alone and vulnerable in a world that would destroy such a young, unprotected baby.
Not to the grief when he could not find me, or when the herd of Pegusi that raised him and thought him to fly were slaughtered. He saw them in his fragmented dreams sometimes- memories of how they thought him to let his instinct guide his fragile wings. How they played with him as he grew, and the forest began to skitter away from him in fear.
Only once had he conceded, and it was the day that he thought uttering my name would bring me back. Now my name was a curse to him – the last words he had uttered to me for eight months.
"Neely.
Neely.
Come back.
.... Please.
Human?"
Nethore's attention flicked to me for a second, and shit just literally poured from the sky. I felt the malevolence pulse like the beat of a drum.
"Nethore!" I screamed his name in a desperate plea as Lilac descended from above with her claws outstretched. She had come to quickly, like the time she had attacked Turana and her intent was just as deadly this time.
There was no time, just seconds filtering away as my heart slammed in my chest. Her claws opened to sink into Nethore back, and shred through those glorious wings of dark velvet. The Ashbourne and Ithrall dragons were launching themselves from where they had been observing the fight, a chorus of outraged snarls trumpeting through the pit – they were enraged by the cowardice of Lilac.
Nethore didn't look away from me as Lilac closed down on him, but someone screamed as shadows rushed from the corner into the light.
As Lilac's claws began to close, slicing through Nethore's rump, he vanished in a haze of scattering shadows.
The amethyst dragon shrieked, her wings snapped out as she collided with the sand and a sickening crunch sounded. She whined loudly, one of her front legs broken badly and Ashlar swivelled as he searched for Nethore.
A silence echoed throughout the pit. No one dared to breath, and I felt my heart furiously slamming inside my rib-cage. I could feel him, but his mind felt strange. Like a light brush of darkness, fervent whispers of shadows.
'Hide.' They whispered.
"What is going on?" I muttered. "Stop talking to me."
"Whose talking?" Dem glanced down at me.
"The shadows. They actually never shut up." I could sense him, and there was a suspiciously out of place shadow cast against the stone.
"I can relate to that." Dem clucked his tongue. "I can't stand beside a river for too long because it just babbles all the time. And yes, I mean that literally."
"Try having to listen to the wind all the time, and then come and talk to me about babbling." Zephyr fell into step on my other side, his dark brows pressed down.
"Nethore?"
Students gasped as shadow rushed forward again, withering together like coils of obsidian snakes to form a solid body once again. I was already frowning as I saw how his body swayed, confused as it became solid once more, but the other dragons were rushing forward to his side protectively. Turana stepped in front of him, her wings flared like a golden shield while Demor pressed her snout to his side to keep him from falling.
Energy crackled, thick and tangible in the air and I felt it skitter along my arms. My eyes tipped close for just a moment, letting the mix of elements wash over me.
Nethore shook the visible fatigue from his bones, but whatever he did had drained him more than any long flight or fight ever had. His great eyes turned to me, and we stared across at each other across the distance of the pit. He looked terrible and beautiful at the same time, with the dregs of shadow still clinging to him but the bond was fraught with uncertainty.
"What did you do?"
"Nethore...I...became shadow. A ghost. Human – I do not like this. ?"
My insides knotted. Nethore was afraid. Truly afraid by how his body had vanished.
"You coward." A snarl built in Buzz's chest as she stood swiftly, striding towards Damien with a finger pointed at him. He didn't shift, but I saw the real stirrings of fear on his face before she slapped him hard across the cheek. "And you..."
Swivelling on her heel, she pointed at Rufus who was still sitting, his face as pale as a sheet. "You may have finally gotten your head out of your ass, but Lilac hasn't. Teach her some damn manners, and how not to act like a prissy bitch just because she's a strange colour. The bloody Vidalin dragon is one of a kind, and you don't see him acting like a priss, do you?"
The Bulmar trainer didn't even have to say anything, but I could see the rage in Abner's eyes as he stared at Damien. Fire and Neely was a no-go in Abner's mind, and dredged up terrible memories for him. Damien was escorted out of the arena by Buzz and Peter- who had no qualms about volunteering.
"Damn cowards." Jamie muttered. "They have no honour."
We looked back out to the dragons again, and I spluttered in surprise at how Turana circled Nethore critically. She nipped at him when he snarled lowly, annoyed by her movements but she was only trying to relax him somewhat as Astor and Demor waited to clean his wounds.
Beau just sat there, between the Ashbourne dragons and the two Bulmar dragons and kept a critical eye on them. Lilac's mewls of pain had no effect on him, but that mace-tail twitched, and I wondered if he was remembering how this dragon had attacked Turana so cowardly during the races last autumn.
We approached the wall of dragons and I felt tiny amongst them, side-stepping their thick legs and shifting uncomfortably at the sheer heat that emanated from them. When they gathered so close together, it was stifling. Nethore's head dipped so he could press his snout to my outstretching palm.
"How do you feel?"
"Real."
"That was very strange Ne."
"Human made a shield out of shadow?" Nethore rebutted.
"But I didn't become shadow."
"All Vidalins come from shadow. Maybe Nethore can return for only a small second?" That worry returned, so I clasped both sides of his maw tight and pulled it closer to me. He could have easily pulled away, but it was his human here and he couldn't bring himself to do that.
"We'll figure this out together Ne."
Amusement shone in his eyes. "With the help from Dem. He is smart."
"I know you mean that as an insult, Ne. Come along now and we'll get some lovely, stinky paste for those wounds."
"I hate that paste." Nethore withdrew his head from my hands glumly.
"That's because it has unicorn droppings in it." I laughed. "It almost as horrible as Tar."
The other dragons didn't move away from Nethore as he stepped away from me. They waited for him to take off and flanked him but not before Beau sent a thunderous snarl in Lilac's direction and snapped his jaws shut with the strength that could snap her other legs in half. Even the grouchy Elser, who never wanted to be close to any other dragon except for Beau, circled the group on swift wings.
"I'll meet you in the courtyard by our room." I told him. Usually I had some Paste in his saddle-bags, but he hadn't been wearing his saddle today because we weren't going to go flying until later. Nethore wanted to see the coast-line that lay miles from the Bulmar academy.
"Skies, Damien is a coward." Jamie cursed lowly as she fell into step beside me. "To attack someone when their back is turned and after they've called an end to the fight."
"Look, at least we weren't all burned to a pitiful crisp." Dem said joyfully. "Thank you for that Neely, my dear."
"You're welcome, Dem." I smiled.
"He has no control over the inferno." Gabriel snarled. The attack had unsettled him deeply, and he kept throwing worrying glances over all of us. "An Antasa Rider cannot be angry. It unsettles us and makes us uncontrollable."
The shadows around my wrists scoffed, whispering what only my ears could hear. 'You think you are uncontrollable little Rider. Pitiful that you think that...'
'Shut up!' I thought it viciously, unnerved by their malevolence. I wanted to go back to the days where shadows didn't linger on my skin, but for many months they had been there in my mind. Memories that clung to me about the days were I only had darkness for company.
I had always pushed myself into the darkest corners of the cell when they visited Hale's cell, and I could hear him screaming until his throat ran raw and the coppery smell of his blood seemed to seep into my room.
A yelp pulled me from the memory as Alex tripped, and Zephyr's hand shot out as if instinctively to seize his arm and haul him back up before he could smash himself against the ground. Alex's cheeks flamed, and he gave a trembling smile.
"Sorry. I'm being clumsy again." It was an embarrassed smile, as if he was trying to deflect from something that embarrassed him horribly.
"It doesn't bother us." Odette treaded her arms through his. She gave him a shy, but beautiful smile and Alex's cheeks turned a deeper shade of crimson, but the gentle and calm smile he returned to her was a rare glimpse of beauty.
I wondered if I drew it, would I capture the dynamics of their unfolding relationship- it was soft and beautiful, and Odette was moving carefully so she wouldn't scare Alex off.
I would try and capture it somehow. It was imprinted in my mind – moments always were, and it overshadowed the dark drawings I could only envisage since I left the cells of Acheron. I would keep documenting the other Vidalin Riders through pictures, but for now, I had a piece of the old Neely back.
Smiling gently, I fell into step beside my friends.
∞
The next time I saw Mazus Lynch in a dream, vision type of thing, I wasn't sleeping.
One moment I was sitting on the bed, letting Collette braid my hair because it had grown longer since I escaped, encouraged by sunlight and nourishment. Everyone else was getting ready for dinner, and chattered amongst each other, only to be broken by someone's laughter.
A gentle hand cradled the inside of my elbow as we watched what unfolded in the play-room. Lucille stood at my side, tiny and elegant but the brightness in her eyes as she surveyed those children could have lit up the entire world, like it had mine.
Seven Innoch children were scattered around George's play-room, examining his infant toys, his teddies and surveying the chubby faced boy curiously. Their tentative laughter echoed sometimes, bubbling over each other's as they gradually relaxed inside my walls.
There was no where to put the children I had rescued from Bryalean. The tribes hidden deep in the wilds of Valaxia would never accept these children raised without their values and ordinary orphanages would sooner kill them than feed and clothe them.
One held tight to George and spun him. Lucille's face broke into a grin when our son shrieked with laughter, his face red and his gummy mouth wide with joy. This scene was so different to what we had been thought – these children weren't evil. They were children – young and innocent but scarred from whatever had brought them to the orphanage.
"How can the world have been so wrong?" Lucille asked softly.
The oldest Innoch was an Arc B named Sikle. He was built broad and strong, with a smattering of dark red scales down his cheeks and neck. I had been most wary of him, but he spoke with a stutter and couldn't look even Lucille in the eye without looking afraid. Despite the raw strength in his body, he was exceedingly gentle and looked over the young ones like a fluffed-up mother hen.
One of the children spotted us standing in the doorway and rose. The laughter died on his face as he surveyed us, but he did not look down. His eyes were a burning shade of amber, sharp with intelligence and suspicion.
"Mazus."
Rough dark curls spilled over his shoulders, wild and untameable and small, sharp horns were nestled among them. I crouched in front of him – I didn't need them to be any more afraid of me because of my size.
"Yes, my boy."
"How long are you going to let us stay?" He asked softly so the others couldn't hear him. Lucille knelt too, the fabric of her dress crinkling. Her grey-blue eyes flickered between us.
She had never questioned my decision to bring them here. When Ishkar had landed on the cliffs, she had taken one look at my face, and then to the children who spilled from the carriage who were all filthy from smoke and ash. They were a pitiful sight – underfed and sickly.
She had rallied around them, her voice sweet and comforting as she ushered them inside for baths and ordered that I prepared them some supper.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Hiding Innoch children is going to bring a fire-storm on your heads. Your generosity can only go so far."
Lucille glanced into the sitting room, smiling faintly as George shrieked in laughter again. He scooted along the floor, half attempting to crawl to follow another one of the Innoch children, Susie.
I looked down at the boy, unsure of how to abate the suspicious gleam in his luminous eyes. Before I could muster something pitiful that would fall short in comforting him, Lucille reached for him. He twitched, eyes wary as she brought a hand to his face but there was no violence in my wife's touch.
"You're our children now, if you want to be. You have a home here with us. Food and clothes a plenty and there is enough love between the both of us for you all." Her voice was soft and gentle, but there was a strong conviction in it that I had come to love. Where I was broad, strong and overbearing – which was how she lovingly described me – she was gentle, but stubbornly determined.
Acheron blinked, and glanced back at his orphan brothers and sisters. "You aren't lying?"
"I can never replace your mother; Acheron and I will not try to, but I will never let anything happen to you. I promise."
He squinted at her, trying to catch her for a sign of a lie but there was none. After a long suspicious moment, the boy gave a beautiful smile. One that convinced me, along with the sound of free laughter before us, that I had made the right choice. Acheron returned to the sitting room and was swallowed up by the group. George crawled instantly into his open arms and Lucille rose again beside me.
A small hand fastened on the inside of my elbow. "We waited so long, tried so hard to have George."
"Lucille..." I glanced down at the heaviness of her voice, but she shook her head. Fine hair spilled from the clips she fastened them in, to rest against the delicate stem of her neck.
"No, darling. I am fine. It was always you who is comforting me when I lost them. You should have left me, cast me aside for a woman who could have borne you a child, but you didn't."
I stared down at her aghast, my tongue-tying fast.
"Lucille, I love you. I always have, and I wouldn't have thrown you away because of that. I made my vows, and only death will part us." I clasped her chin, tilting her beautiful face up. "Never doubt that."
I had always said it. Always reassured her that I would never leave her. She held me at such a pedestal because of my status in life but she could never understand that without her and Ishkar, I would be nothing. If she had any sense, she would have married a better man. One that owned his entire soul: many people could never accept loving someone who would always be tied to another by magic stronger than the bonds of marriage, but it had never bothered her.
She rewarded me with a smile. "How honourable you are, darling."
The tension seeped from my shoulders at her joking tone, and we turned to survey the children in the sitting room once more.
"We have seven more children to love, protect and care for." Lucille sighed. "Any other Rider would have let the others cut them down if they couldn't, but you risked scorn and ridicule to bring them to our home."
She leaned up, her lips ghosting my cheek. "You are a good man, Mazus. The best I have ever known."
I blinked, and reality rushed over me once more. Colette was still braiding my hair, and Gabriel was laughing, trying to tell everyone about one of the social parties he had attended as a boy. The one in which he met Dem.
This was the second time that had happened, and it had felt so real. Like I really had been encased in Mazus' mind, listening to his thought process. I could feel the lingering dredges of his love for his wife- it was true love and affection for someone whose name I had never heard mentioned in the history books. He had looked over those children with a protective eye, swallowing down guilt because he had slaughtered more Innochs than he dared to count. Had they been innocent? Had they been painted as villains when Riders were actually the evil ones.
Had Mazus been good?
"No." I thought vehemently, casting out the thought to Nethore. "Whatever he felt about those children, he still started a war that destroyed people's lives. He was a tyrant and a cold-blooded murderer."
People hated Mazus Lynch. Even the generation that had never lived during his time hated him. There was evidence in abundance of the crimes he had committed. The Basset family were heroes because of how Gabriel's ancestor had slain him during the battle at Ashbourne.
"Dem said something to me once." Nethore said. "That history is written by winners and they never want to look bad."
"Even Dem knows that Mazus Lynch was a bad man."
Collette's hand fell onto my shoulder, and I turned to catch a glimpse of her grin. The twin settled back, and I touched the braid knotted into my hair gingerly. My hair had begun to turn soft and fine again, and it took a firm hand to pull it back hard enough to braid without making my eyes smart.
"Thanks, Collette."
When I stood and turned to face the room, I half-expected to see the shadow of Mazus' wife standing there. My great-grandmother – and Abner's grand-mother. Eyeing the shadows lingering at the corners of the room, I asked bitterly.
'I suppose you couldn't tell me, could you?'
I got nothing, then the sudden whirl of black around my fingers. A definite no.
"What does it matter now? He's dead. We have bad Innochs. We have good Innochs. And the only bad person we need to concern ourselves with now is Acheron."
Malevolence pulsed through the bond, the golden threads that connected us turning dimming to a pulsing onyx.
"Nethore needs to have a few minutes with that Amon as-well. There are words to be spoken."
And even though he was my dragon, my fire-bound, I shivered at the hiss in his voice and the dark intent of his thoughts.
"Then you'll have to get in line Ne."
Jamie and Dem appeared by my sides, and I laughed as Dem threaded his arm through mine. Jamie didn't – such displays of affection were not Jamie-like.
"Over dinner, we are going to discuss the curious case of the vanishing Vidalin." Dem's eyes gleamed like shards of blue-gems, bright with the thought of learning more. "If you can harness that ability to, the possibilities are endless."
"Are you sure they're endless?" Jamie asked bluntly.
Dem pursed his lips. "Well I haven't finished my list of the things you could do with that skill, but..."
"You made a list!" Gabriel spluttered from in front of us.
"It's Dem." Peter grumbled, bringing up the rear. He was the solid force behind everyone. "Of course, he made a list. That's like asking Jamie if she brushed her hair, which is always a no..."
"You try have hair this curly Peter."
Peter scoffed. "...and its like asking Neely whether or not she was the one to rearrange all the clothes in our wardrobe."
Dem patted the hand resting at his elbow affectionately. "For such a cute little thing, Neely, you have no concept of personal boundaries."
"I would," I started, "if you bothered to fold your clothes properly when they were washed."
Dem gave a suffering sigh, before glancing over at Zephyr. "I hope you're listening, Zephyr. Neely has strict standards of cleanliness and order that people have to follow."
The Innoch gave me a slow, warm smile. "We all have our vices."
"Being clean is not a vice!" I defended hotly.
"Don't worry!" Dem chirped. "We love you anyway. Don't we lads?"
Good-natured groans filled the air in reply, and I burst out laughing before swatting Dem's arm. "Tell me one of the things on your list, Dem."
"Well, you could possibly sneak into the restricted section of the library. Imagine the possibilities."
"If Neely can do what Nethore did, she isn't going to be forced into stealing restricted books for you Dem. You're already getting in enough trouble for buying illegal books on the black-market." Gabriel said hotly.
"Air my dirty laundry, why don't you?" Dem said casually. "You can visit me when I get arrested."
Illegal books. I remembered the book on Innochs that Dem had shown us in Ashbourne. Could there be something out there that can prove that Mazus adopted seven children after the massacre at Bryalean. Were they still working with Acheron?
"I'll steal restricted books, if you become my person fact finder Dem."
"Oh, I like this deal. Illegal books and a chance to show off what I know? It's a deal."
∞