The Blood King - Chapter Two (Patreon)

Nemyra

The remainder of the trip to the village is tense. And I have myself to thank for that. I’ve always known Peyra’s feelings towards the Ancients. I’m sure that’s why she sees it as no burden to spend her life running with me. She has a connection I don’t understand, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m disconnected from my kind or because I am stubborn.

I pull my cloak over my body, making sure it’s tied around my neck properly as I look at myself in the small mirror hanging by the cart. There was never any hiding what I am from myself. I’ve always looked different than those around me. I shift my attention to my hair as I lift my hands to braid it back. The color is the same as the snow I miss so much. It’s sharp against my warm skin. And what’s even more striking is the pale color of my eyes, fanned by lashes that match my hair.

I stand out no matter what. But that is my birthright. I wasn’t born to blend in. It’s just the situation I’ve found myself in. My attention drifts to Peyra in the reflection. She’s muttering a prayer over the herbs she’s burning, covering herself in the smoke. She always does this before we re-enter her home. It reinforces my dislike for it. Why return when it puts so much fear in her heart?

I look away, quickly finishing my braid. As I do, I get a glimpse of the new marking that's formed on my forearm. It still peaks through the necklaces. I don’t know why it suddenly formed, and I am afraid to tell Peyra about it, especially given how things have been between us lately.

I look back at her, and she still has her back to me as she continues to pray. I hold my hand out in front of me, closing my eyes as I focus on the chill that lingers within me. A small sheen of ice slowly forms on my palm, thickening with each passing second. Then, a small flurry of snow forms above my palm. My heart thumps harder against my chest as I strain myself, and I quickly look back to Peyra to make sure she doesn’t see me. I slowly reach for the wagon, closing my hand around a piece of the wood.

The ice transfers, but not in the way I want. It only forms under my palm. Sharp pain rips through me, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out as I jerk my hand away from the wagon.

Nothing’s changed.

I try to hold on to Peyra’s words to me the other night, not letting my emotions consume me. But my frustration is beyond control. I let myself hope for a moment that the appearance of this marking meant something had changed within me—that I may have more access to my power. It would give me more confidence when I decide to part ways with Peyra. Unfortunately, I am still more human than Ikniri, unable to access the side of me that makes me what I am.

I quietly release a huff of irritation, pulling the hood of my cloak over my head to hide myself. I then quickly fasten my blade to my hip. The world is quiet today. I pull in a deep breath, closing my eyes as I lean against the wagon, taking the moment to clear my head.

Peyra’s muttering is clear, even though she is a few feet away. I can also hear the breeze rustling the trees around us. As I slow my breathing, a strange sensation washes over me. It feels like a weight settles, and I hear more. I hear…animals. They’re small, scurrying through the branches as well as flitting below. A heavy flap of wings mingles with the noise, and I suddenly hear the faint rush of water.

There’s a river. But I know we are a good distance from a river. Peyra never travels close to them when heading back to her village. People are bound to be near them and can spot me.

“I said, be careful, Leo!” I flinch when a woman’s voice enters. She sounds frantic. I can even hear her quick footsteps as she runs toward something.

“Leo!” A splash sounds, followed by a shriek.

I open my eyes, standing too suddenly as I gasp. It pulls Peyra’s attention, and she looks at me in concern. I must look frightened, because she stands, making her way to me. I can no longer hear beyond our surrounding area, and I quickly look around me in a panic.

“Where’s the river?” I ask.

Peyra blinks in shock. “What? Why are you asking—”

“The river! Where is it?” I shout.

“It’s at least a mile East, Nemyra. What is this about—”

I ignore her, running to one of the horses. I can hear her shouting at me, but I try to focus as I did just now so that I can hear it again. But I can’t.

Once I get the horse free, I climb atop it, looking at Peyra.

“Which way does it run!” I ask.

“It runs North—”

“Show me!” I shout as I hold my hand out to her. I see the confusion in her face, but she lets me pull her on the horse with me as we take off into the woods. I slow my breathing as I try to listen for the sound of the river, or rather, the screams.

“Nemyra, what is this about?” Peyra shouts behind me, messing up my concentration.

“I hear him fall in!” I shout.

“Wha—heard who?” she asks.

“A boy! A boy fell into the river!” I respond.

Peyra goes silent behind me for a moment.

“Turn around.” She says it low, but I hear her easily.

“Are you crazy? I’m not—”

“You cannot save him! If he fell, it is his fate!” she shouts.

I scoff in disbelief.

“I’m not going to leave a child to drown—”

“You must! Your life is more important than any—”

“Don’t say that!” I shout.

I feel Peyra reaching for the reins, her desperation evident, but I lift my arm, blocking her. The horse feels the shift, however, and tries to buck us.

“Whoa! Easy girl!” I cry out.

“You must stop this! You cannot do this!” Peyra screams, but it’s too late. We are close enough that I don’t need her direction. I hear the river. And I hear the mother.

I pull hard on the reins, jumping down from the horse. I only take two steps before there’s a rough pull on my cloak.

I look back in shock. Peyra’s grip is tight, and her expression is panicked.

“I know what this means to you. But you must listen to me, please, Nemyra. Let their fates fall to the gods.” I shake my head in disbelief, undoing the ties on my cloak.

I don’t have time to dissect why she is acting so desperately. For now, I have seconds to save them both. The mother jumped in after her son, and as I push through the last bit of trees, my heart drops. The river is violent this far down. There’s no way they’ll survive. As a matter of fact, if I jump in, I might be torn to shreds as well.

But as I look upriver, I see the mother’s head barely above the water. As she tries to both stay afloat and find her child. I glance briefly over the river, and I catch a glimpse of his clothes.

My body is moving before I can stop myself.

“Nemyra, don’t!” I hear Peyra, but it’s too late as I jump into the river.

The frigid water encompasses me all at once. It isn’t unpleasant. It feels amazing, invigorating. It gives me strength. My vision is clear, and I see the boy. Unfortunately, the water is powerful. It drags me down the river without a care, and as I break through the surface, I try to fight the current while simultaneously swimming to the boy.

He’s small. Maybe five or six.

The current pummels his small body, pulling him under. He has no chance, nor does his mother. I submerge myself, continuing to swim to him. Luckily, his clothes are loose. My fingers brush the fabric under the water, and I finally get a good grip, pulling him into me as I pull us both above the surface of the water.

Now that I have him, it’s become more difficult to remain above water and keep him there. He’s unconscious, I note. So I make sure to keep his head above as I try to locate his mother. I hear her screams becoming swallowed in increments by the water covering her. And as the current continues to pummel me, I look ahead.

My stomach dips when I see large rocks protruding from the river. All we have to do is get smashes up against one, and we’re done.

“Fuck!” I growl to myself.

My chest pounds, but for some reason, I don’t feel as panicked as I should. Maybe it’s the cold. It soothes me. It calms me, making me feel at home. A loud hum sounds in my head as the unfamiliar weight I felt earlier settles over me. And I flinch as my body grows colder. The chill is almost physical, like an entity I can reach out and touch—see.

“Agh!” I cry out as an uncontrollable wave hits me, and the violent current suddenly stops. The loud rush of water quietens, and my body is no longer being roughly rushed through the river. It’s still and held in a cold slush.

“Ngh! L-Leo,” I hear the woman’s cry as clear as day. And it takes me a moment to realize that a flash of white has covered my vision. Slowly, the world comes back into view. I’m on my back, the water partially frozen. I slowly shift my attention to the boy in my arms. He’s still unconscious, and as I look upriver, I note that the woman is losing consciousness as the cold sets in.

Ice forms on the bottom of my feet, and I slowly stand out of the water as it solidifies enough to give me something to walk on. I look down at my feet in confusion, and as I lift the next one and place it in front of me, ice forms again, making it solid enough to walk on.

I can’t form a thought as I slowly carry the boy to land. I set him down in the grass, which I note has a soft frost over it. As I stand, I am left breathless. The entire river has been frozen. It stretches as far as I can see, the thick slush moving more slowly than when it was melted. But I can’t think about it now.

I move back to the river, slowly placing my foot over the slush. Yet again, ice hardens beneath my feet. It gives me an easy path to the mother, who is barely conscious as she pants from the chill. Her breaths are short as I pull her from the water, and her lips are blue.

“Y-y-you…” she can’t finish her sentence as she looks at me in what could pass for disbelief. I carry her back to land with her son, gently placing her next to him. She sobs as she rolls over, but cannot pull him into her arms.

It’s as if something comes over me as I reach for him. His heartbeat is faint and weak. I apply pressure to his chest consistently before covering his mouth to breathe air into him. I continue to do it over and over until his eyes fly open, and he launches up, coughing out water.

And as if a candle is extinguished, the hum disappears, as does the weight, and I am pulled back to reality. The mother cries, pulling her son into her she brushes his hair away from his face, kissing him over and over as she tries to calm herself down.

I shift, moving to stand when her hand flies out, catching mine. I look up, and her expression once again holds disbelief.

“Y-you’re an…Ikniri...” she whispers. 

“Nemyra!” Before I can respond, Peyra finally catches up, pulling both of our attention. She looks frantic as she clutches my cloak. The panic in her face deepens when she sees they are both alive and well next to me. And as she reaches us, does she look out over the river. She shakes her head, looking at me.

“…What have you done?”