Blizzard Page 10

  “Not what you were hoping for, is it?” He felt the cut cloth, an expression of disapproval showing. “You know, I almost worried all my efforts were wasted. When you weren’t allowed to even try to heal me, no gratitude to Zachariah for that interference, I worried you might not be able to use your powers, but…well, now we know.”

  “But…how?” All hope left Eliza. She had willingly stayed and come to Reegan, playing a part and making a fool of herself the entire time. She felt ashamed, angry, betrayed, and foolish beyond repair.

  “I have been doing my own studies and gaining my own powers. We are two sides of the same coin; while you may utilize elements and blessings, I have the dark arts.”

  “I don’t understand.” Eliza backed away, continuing until she found the wall, pressing herself firmly against its support.

  “You do not need to, either.” Reegan undressed himself as he spoke. “Funny, your mother said the same thing.”

  His words shocked Eliza, as she whimpered. “No.” Her voice broke. “What have you done?”

  “Simply removed an impertinence.” He dropped his jacket to the floor and was taking care to unbutton each button of his ruined shirt. “But have no qualms over such matters, I made sure your parents went on to the afterlife together. At the very least I gave them that, am I not generous? The king was most generous for my unveiling their treacherous, mutinous actions.” Reegan exposed his deeds with ease, watching as he broke Eliza.

  “How about I tell you one last secret?” He stood over her, pinning her to the wall that kept her upright. “I sealed this room so you can use no magic. You have no way out, except through me.” He was beaming with pride.

  Eliza could feel her body shake with the tremors of pain, fear, and the greatest desire to carve his heart out of his chest. Still, her hands shook; no carving would happen just yet, but she had enough control to lash out with the dagger and cut a long line across his face.

  For a moment his scream resonated within the room, deafening and crippling Eliza to her knees as she covered her ears to keep her eardrums from bursting, dropping the dagger just at her calf. The dagger glowed briefly; she could feel the frigid temperature rolling from its edges, but then the color died out completely.

  “Aggghhhh!” Reegan had lashed himself backwards, to the side, then down, bent between his knees with blood pouring from his face. That wound was not closing, Eliza noticed. The darkness in his eyes expanded beyond the edge of where the irises should have been, filling the whites that in turned filled Eliza with dread. “You…” The word itself could have been a curse. Gripping his left cheek with one free hand, he grabbed Eliza with the other, forcing her onto the bed. “It’s time you show your worth.”

  Zachariah waited in the rose garden, hidden with the horses within a copse of trees. He knew the leaves had assumed their autumnal shades, but in the moonlight all became one blue-gray-silver palette. Hours had passed, but he could not bring himself to believe for a moment she had failed; otherwise, he knew he had failed in keeping her safe. He repeated to himself to have faith, believe in her, but the more time passed, the quicker his hope died, until the sky began to lighten. All night he had waited with both of their horses, simple sacks packed with their basic needs, and the crushing reality hit—it was too late. Rather than leave himself to wallow in his failure, Zachariah mounted his horse and brought both back to the stables before heading inside, directly to Reegan’s bedchamber. Two guards intercepted Zachariah before he was able to force himself through the single door.

  “Lord Reegan said you were not allowed,” one said. Both men were almost equal in size to Zachariah, both had darkened skin, brown eyes, and short cropped curling hair, with each bearing a long spear.

  Just as Zachariah had completed sizing up the two men and his ability to take them on, Reegan opened the door, stepping through. His face was covered with a long bandage, fresh blood seeping through and decorating its beige exterior in butterflied fashion.

  “Where is she?” Zachariah stared Reegan down, that firm, unreadable expression in its place.

  “My wife?” Reegan mused. “Sleeping. We had a most exhausting night.” Reegan stepped forward, expecting Zachariah to move back in concert. When he did not, Reegan sighed heavily. “You will not see Eliza again for some time. It seems I have been away too long and my wife so terribly desires my company alone.”

  Zachariah stiffened at his words. Reegan and his two guards seemed to take the greatest of pleasures in his obvious reaction.

  “I would like to hear those words from her myself, then.”

  Reegan regarded Zachariah before stepping forward, placing a hand on his chest and forcing him back. Zachariah found he could not help but be moved by Reegan.

  “That will not be possible, Zachariah. This…obsession of yours, it’s unhealthy. I believe it’s time you take a trip to Zarif.”

  At the mention of Zarif, Zachariah shifted his focus from the door he had been watching, hoping to see the crack open even a sliver, to Reegan’s face.

  “Why Zarif, Reegan? What if I have no desire to go there?”

  “Go there, and you will find the king has made several changes. Including granting you the title you so rightly deserve.” Reegan tried to smile, capable only of extending the expression to the uncut side. “Take your time.” Reegan pulled a letter from the coat he wore, the sigil from the king still intact across the wax seal “The king has given you all you have desired.”

  Zachariah stared at the letter, lifting his hand but not grasping the precious item. “At what cost, though?” His hand hovered, part of him desperate to snatch his promised future.

  Reegan’s crooked smile fell a little. “Leave here, and do not return. I am releasing the bond we forged. You no longer will be Eliza’s guard and mentor. She is now fulfilling every duty as my wife and lady of our lands. She must focus elsewhere, now.” His face had fallen entirely, a frown weighing one corner down.

  Zachariah quirked his brows and knocked the envelope from Reegan’s hands, spurring the two guards to press the points of their spears into each of his shoulders. Only Reegan’s grasp stopped the two from impaling Zachariah.

  “Now, that won’t do.” Reegan gently pushed the spears back and away. “Consider what you’re throwing away, and for what? Some girl that can never be yours?” He almost succeeded in sounding serious in his concern and reprimand but for something in his eyes Zachariah could not dismiss.

  “You cannot buy me off, cousin. I will not stand by and idly watch as you ruin another innocent life!” With that, Zachariah turned to leave, but not before Reegan gripped his arm and yanked him face to face.

  “Go to Zarif, and reconsider your course. There is nothing left here for you but to witness the suffering I can cause that witch—if you stay.” Reegan let go of Zachariah and saw the fury burn brighter from within him but made no other movements as he departed, boots hitting hard against the floor.

  “Do you wish us to eliminate him, Lord Reegan?” One of the guards spoke after Zachariah had disappeared down the stairwell.

  “No.” Reegan waited longer still before moving. “I already have that managed.” Turning around, he headed back to his room. Before entering, he said, “Lady Eliza will not be leaving this room for some time, and neither will I. I expect privacy with exception to food and the maids for cleaning.”

  “Yes, Lord Reegan,” the two Heruvish men responded in unison as he opened the door and stepped beyond its threshold.

  “Good morning, my blushing bride.” A muffled cry barely escaped through the door as it shut behind Reegan.

  BY NOON ZACHARIAH, had departed the castle. All his belongings had been taken away in the short time between his confrontation with Reegan and his readying his horse, with a stop in the library to write a letter to Eliza. The room had been cleared of any sign he had ever been present. A note was on the desk within the confines of the small room, in Reegan’s handwriting.

  Zachariah,

  I hope yo
u will find the wisdom in heeding my advice, as I have already taken the opportunity for your belongings to be removed and packed. They are already on their way to Zarif, where you belong and your parents’ graves await your tender care. You will, undoubtedly, find much has changed since your last visit some two years ago. Do not be distraught, cousin. We will meet again soon enough.

  Warmest regards,

  Lord Reegan Theeds – Your cousin

  Crumpling the letter and tossing it aside, Zachariah realized his only option was to go to Zarif to see what awaited him and take time to devise a plan to rescue Eliza. He had given his note to Eliza to one of the maids he had always trusted, who had always been kind to him. It was simple, letting Eliza know he would find a way to save her from Reegan.

  When Eliza received the note two days later, it provided the only hope she could find, with all else ruined. Zachariah arrived at Zarif, far west from the home he had known for most of his life. He found it just as he had left it two years prior. No signs of life were present; even the birds refused to nest in the multitude of nooks and crannies that could protect them from the elements. The shops and homes were more dilapidated than he recalled, the white exteriors fully enveloped by vines, moss, and discoloration. Weeds grew in disarray, laying claim to the base of every building and part of the dirt streets. Trees grew within a few of the homes; doors creaked in the gusts of wind that blew through, crying for the ghosts that had long since moved on themselves. Tattered roofs allowed beams of light to filter in, giving Zachariah insight to what waited within those buildings he passed. Tables and storefronts, homes with their chairs, bedrooms, and the like all wore the passage of time. As the winds filtered through, dust and dirt was harried from their settled spots and brought into the dapple lighting, reflecting the light as it fell back to its rightful place.

  With his heart heavy in his chest, Zachariah made his way to his parents’ graves. He wasn’t sure what he had expected in returning, but he recognized Reegan’s urgency for him to return had been entirely unwarranted. None of Zachariah’s hopes had been fulfilled, and the rustling of the trees and complete solitude that surrounded him only reinforced that reality. After traversing through the center of the town, passing a large well that had collapsed in upon itself, through the gates to his family’s destroyed home, Zachariah centered his feelings of deflated dreams on Reegan alone. Through the large iron gates, he headed off to a path branching to the right.

  Breathing in deeply, he found the earthy scents still flourished regardless of the decay that had set in everywhere else. Zachariah dismounted and tied off his horse to the crooked iron gates, taking a moment longer to memorize how everything was positioned. Pines, poplars, firs, maples, and oaks populated the nearby forests that shook and sang as the winds blew into the valley the castle and its town enveloped. He knew deeper within the recesses of those woods a lake lay hidden, a stream reaching it to its northern bank that flowed down from the mountains farther beyond. Reaching his final destination, he found each headstone sitting at the base of the same ancient oak. The stones, worn over the years and riddled with a fine green film, waited in their undisturbed manner. Zachariah set about cleaning them, barely able to make a smudge of a difference, when a snap beyond the tree line beyond the oak signaled the invasion of privacy. From his boot, he pulled a dagger, prepared to fight whatever assassin Reegan had ensured to be waiting for him.

  Instead, Francis stepped out, looking more haggard than Zachariah had ever recalled. For all the man’s cruelty—Zachariah had known the man’s reputation full well—all that stood there was a defeated man whose age and life had caught up with him. Francis took two, three steps out of the woods before falling to the ground. Rushing to his side, Zachariah turned the man over as quickly as he dared, afraid to break him.

  “Francis, what are you doing here?” Though Zachariah knew the answer, the question still presented itself without consideration.

  “Young master…” Francis gasped, gulping the fresh air into his lungs, desperate. “Lord Reegan sent me to finish you.” He gasped again. “But he musta known I’d turned. He sent another to finish me off, but I took care of him first.” Francis squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, though Zachariah could find no source for cause.

  “What did they do to you?” Zachariah felt panic; he could not mend what he could not see.

  “Powder, some powder.” A wheezing gasp issued from Francis’ chest, but he held it in tight, shutting his mouth and swallowing the breath back down. “It burns, but I won’t let ’em have you. Promised your father, I did.” Tears crested at the corner of his one good eye and slid down the side of his face, pooling in his ear. “Don’t breathe me in.” He pushed Zachariah’s face back. “Poisonous…powder. Bury me, cover my face.” With another sharp wheeze and stifled cough, Francis turned to his side. Zachariah searched for water that should have been on Francis but found it gone. “He took it, the devil.”

  Zachariah leapt from where he was crouching over the dying man and ran to his horse, grabbing his own smaller canteen filled with alcohol and bringing it back, forcing Francis to drink. Had he not taken the drink, Francis would have doomed Zachariah along with him. Yet, to Francis’ surprise, the burning stopped almost instantly and was replaced with another feeling, forcing him to sit up with equal momentum. His one eye bulged from its socket as he gasped out a painful cough, heaving in a deep breath before shakily grabbing Zachariah’s arm to steady himself.

  Zachariah heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God that worked.”

  “How?” Francis sat staring around him as the new burning subsided, feeling his chest and lungs, pressing against his own body in astonishment.

  “Luckily for you that was part of my training. One of the many things I had an interest in learning was various poisons and ways to treat them. Here—” Zachariah handed Francis the small canteen “—finish this first. You’ll want to drink water for the rest of today and all of tomorrow, to ensure it is flushed from your body, but you should be fine otherwise.”

  Zachariah stood and offered his hand to Francis. The two had become comrades in the past year and a half, when Zachariah discovered Francis had known Zachariah’s family and been loyal to them once. Francis had sworn to protect Zachariah on an oath of life, and so far had managed to follow through, though Reegan had never known due to Francis’ uncanny ability to be discreet when he so chose. The two realized that secret or another had been revealed.

  “What now?” Francis accepted the help and waited for Zachariah’s orders.

  “Now…well I have been banished, an assassin was sent for you, and you sent for me. I don’t rightly know this very minute. For now, how about we just get ourselves situated. I doubt there to be a third assassin trailing us, so that gives us some time.”

  The two men set up a temporary camp, and Zachariah completed his task of cleaning his parents’ gravesites and stones. Night came and the usual frigid chill ran along the valley, settling a frost over the lands.

  “Still no animals here,” Francis remarked, scratching the scruff of his chin with considerable vigor. “Lord Reegan has been up to no good since he were a boy, and now it seems he found himself a power he thinks can’t be rivaled.”

  Zachariah, nodding in agreement, responded slowly. “You killed the other assassin. What did you do with his body?”

  Francis shot Zachariah a nervous glance. “I’m not eatin’ another person, sir!”

  Zachariah stopped his stoking of the fire and turned a confused look to the one-eyed man. “Why on God’s Auria would you think I would want to eat him, Francis?”

  Francis shrugged, an embarrassed look rising up his cheeks to his forehead as he crinkled his face. “Figured…because I mentioned the animals…” Francis flicked a look Zachariah’s way, a sheepish expression, and back down to the cup in his hand.

  “It is not, Francis. I inquired because this means Reegan has no idea what has occurred. You can return, acting none the wiser, and w
e can follow through on our previous plan.” Casting his gaze into the fire, he began building his plans to save Eliza.

  For two and a half months, she remained in the room with Reegan, suffering all the abuse and mental anguish he could inflict without risk of killing her. By the middle of that second month, he stopped the abuse entirely after ushering the doctor in to verify his suspicions. Eliza was pregnant. With that news, everything suddenly changed. She was no longer restrained within his room, but to the castle grounds. She was allowed visitors, but she relished the sunlight and fresh air upon her face. Pearl eventually arrived to give her congratulations and offer her own news in return.

  “I’m three months along, now.” Pearl smiled, but there was no warmth to be found. “John is beyond overjoyed, but…”

  Eliza would have felt pity, had she not known of Pearl’s betrayal.

  “But for the possibility it could be…no.” Pearl paused, her words hard and uninviting. “It is Reegan’s baby.” Tears shivered and fell like raindrops from Pearl as she cradled her face in her hands. “Please, please forgive me, Eliza! It was a mistake, a one-time mistake! I was just so jealous, and John was just so boring—both to live with and in…that way, and you had Lord Reegan and Zachariah! Who were you to have them both?” Pearl was sobbing and heaving, causing a stir beyond Eliza’s bedroom door.

  To Eliza, the experiences were disgusting and unpleasant; she simply hated Pearl for telling Reegan what she had known.

  “And what am I to do when this baby is born and it looks as Lord Reegan and not my husband?” Pearl had completely collapsed beneath her admissions, believing her only betrayal was in sleeping with Reegan. “I know you must hate me, but please help me! Forgive me, Eliza. I am not strong as you are. I—”

  “Get out.” Eliza’s words were low, but harsh, taking Pearl aback.

  “What?”

  “I said get out. Get out of here now. Do not ever return, Pearl.” Eliza was boring holes into Pearl’s face, her hurt clear as the daylight illuminating the room. Eliza seemed an unreal specter before Pearl.