Chapter Nine

Shackles

“You may be more comfortable if you were to lay back,” The Sage said, “Shackling can often be disorienting.”

Hesitantly, Inerys did as instructed and allowed herself to sink down into the plush comforter. Though her mind raced, she willed her heart back under her control and steadied her breathing. This was for her own good, she reminded herself. The first step toward recovery, albeit, an arduous one. The sooner she was able to travel again, the sooner she could return home.

The man, Ruslan, loomed like a shadow behind the Sage. He remained on the threshold of the small bedroom, leaning against the door’s inner frame with his arms folded across his chest. He possessed the same long, slender ears as Sorisana and many of the same angular features through the face, yet his skin was a curious shade of lead grey. In the right light, she caught hints of blue, like that of a peacock’s feathers. Between his complexion and his raven black hair, he was the perfect contrast to the Sage’s warmth.

He watched as the woman began her work, the silent sentry to her back. Inerys found his presence strangely comforting. Considering he'd saved her life, she supposed it wasn't entirely unexpected. She hardly knew the man and yet he'd gone through the trouble of bringing her here. To Kresia. She still hadn't the faintest idea how far they were from the Wilds, from her home, but she imagined they were relatively close, all things considered. Vidaar and Nan would be worried sick. And Alaric . . .

As the Sage approached, her nerves flared. Sorisana offered her a comforting smile and laid a warm hand upon her shoulder.

"The process won't take long," she assured, "it should offer you some relief. Afterward, we'll see to finding you something to eat as well."

Inerys nodded. "Will it hurt?"

"It's more discomfort than true pain. Certainly far less than you've already endured."

She blew out a breath. "Good."

With a simple gesture of the Sage's fingers, three golden spheres, roughly the size of grapefruits, rose into the air from where they had rested upon the nightstand. They appeared to be made of some sort of crystalline glass, and yet weren't entirely corporeal. They drifted into a triangular formation behind the Sage's head, adopting a bright, aurulent glow not unlike that of the sun. The same, Inerys realized, burned beneath the woman's skin and bled through her eyes.

Though she saw nothing, she sensed the threads of magic linking the spheres to the Sage and felt the power building in the woman’s veins. Inerys experienced something similar while in the presence of active sorcerers, but her Sense had never discerned it quite so keenly. She imagined it had something to do with the changes to her spirit.

A weight settled over her, as if a wet blanket had been draped across her prone body. Her skin prickled, her Soul shifting uncomfortably within her, like an animal in a cage. Every instinct told her to run, to escape the net descending upon her, but she remained still. Sorisana had warned that her Soul would do everything in its power to escape the Shackles, for they were designed to restrict the spiritual core as a whole and thus sever its connection to her other cores. While the Shackles remained in place, her Soul wouldn’t be unified. Inerys knew little of magic and meridians and the like, but she was able to piece together enough to follow along.

A second weight followed, then a third and finally, a fourth. Her Sense could still distinguish the individual layers, floating somewhere deep within her like thin planes of water. Then, the first Shackle snapped into place. Her spirit compressed and the air left her lungs in a sudden rush that left her gasping. Her body gave a swift, involuntary twitch, and she could have sworn the bed creaked beneath her. Each consecutive Shackle bore down on her spirit, each more heavy than the last, all but crushing her Soul in its entirety. Breath eluded her, a foreign concept her lungs refused to grasp and her limbs had become little more than lead weights.

Ruslan paced into the room, pausing just shy of the Sage. Inerys barely registered his steps, however, her disorientation resolved itself in a matter of seconds. His scent hit her first; an overpowering array of herbal notes and pungent sap. She was half convinced he’d rolled in pine tar prior to his earlier arrival. His expression was a mask of thinly veiled concern, his brow knit and jaw set.

Sorisana leaned over Inerys, searching her face as she stretched a hand out over her body. An inspection, of some sort, she imagined, for she could feel the Sage’s power probing about her channels. The woman nodded to herself, the spheres still glowing behind her head.

“The Shackles seem to be holding. With luck, you’ll have a month or two before your magic has a chance to exhaust the first,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Inerys wasn’t entirely sure she could muster the will to speak, but eventually managed, “like I spent a night at the bottom of a wine cast.”

The woman chuckled and Inerys faintly registered the slight quirk of Ruslan’s lips.

“I imagine you do. Your spiritual core was rather stubborn. Take some time to rest. In the meantime, I’ll find you something to eat,” she said.

Inerys nodded weakly. Between the dull ache in her joints as well as her spirit and her sudden exhaustion, sleep was a welcomed companion. Surely she could afford a few stolen hours of silence? She hummed at the thought, eyelids heavy. The comforter was a cloud at her back, cradling her in its luscious embrace, and she willingly allowed it to carry her off.

~*~

Of all the propositions Inerys had ever heard, this was by far the most bizarre.

"You want me to do what?"

The man, Ruslan, frowned into the mug he'd offered.

"Drink it," he said.

“You can’t be serious.”

He was mad if he thought she would drink that.

After years spent dressing her own kills within the depths of the Wilds, she knew the scent anywhere. Blood. And still warm, by the smell.

The fact she could discern the fact at all disturbed her more than she’d care to admit.

She crossed her arms. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

The man sighed, glancing about the small living room. “May I sit down?”

Shifting in her seat, Inerys debated. This proposal of his was ludicrous, but she supposed she could at least hear him out. These quarters weren’t exactly hers, but she wouldn’t have anyone believe she was a rude hostess nonetheless. She relented and nodded toward the opposite sofa.

“My thanks,” he said, cautiously taking a seat.

Inerys fidgeted a moment, her fingers gracing the ropey scar of what used to be Dravas’ stitch work along her arm.

“Now, why is it you think I should drink that?”

He sighed through his nose, engaged in some internal debate. After a time, he asked, “are your people familiar with the concept of vampires?”

She blinked. Sorisana had made mention of a vampire, but Inerys was still rather ignorant as to what that meant. Whatever it was, she imagined it wasn’t anything good.

“I feared as much,” he said. “They’re a species unto themselves, however the circumstances of their birth can be unique.”

Inerys eyed his ears a moment, his curious coloring. She’d never heard of any Adai that looked like him. “Is that what you are?”

“Me? Hardly. Though, you rarely see my kind in such cool climates.”

She watched him, expectant.

“I am a Nar'Adai,” he clarified. "The desert is my home."

She supposed that made sense, but truth be told, she’d never seen a desert. She’d only ever read about them. Aside from his complexion, he certainly matched Adai descriptions. What was it that made his skin so dark?

“In that case . . . what do vampires have to do with anything?”

“You, actually. I know the past few days have been difficult for you, but surely you’ve noticed the differences for yourself.”

Inerys bit her lower lip, mindful of the newly discovered fangs that had once been her canines. “I- there have been a few, yes.”

She wasn’t quite ready to face those changes, if she were being honest.

“The woman who attacked you in the woods was a vampire. And a powerful one at that. When her blood was introduced to yours and the two mingled within your body, it triggered what’s referred to as the Inheritance. It’s how some vampires are born. Created, if you will,” he said.

The hair along the back of her neck rose. She thought back to the woman she’d encountered, the strangeness of her, the lethality. Her fingers subconsciously traveled to the column of her neck, where the woman’s fangs had made their home not so long ago. She had gone for her prey’s throat, just as any other predator would. She’d been after her blood.

Inerys grew cold.

“Am I . . .like her, now?” She asked, voice hardly a whisper.

His lips set in a grim line, but he looked her in the eye when he said, “I’m sorry, Inerys.”

She stared down at her light-webbed finger tips and felt strangely hollow. Not only had her body been ruined, but she was no longer human. In a way, she was almost more comfortable accepting the damage to her Soul. At least she had some control over it, a way to recover. Her body, on the other hand, was another matter. There was no reversing what had been done, what she had become.

What’s done, is done, she thought.

What would her family think of all this?

The thought of them pained her.

“What happens now?” she asked, at length.

He blew out a breath. “Now, we focus on your recovery. It may not be pleasant, but the blood should help. Your cravings haven’t started yet, but they will. Best to curb them now.”

Her stomach growled audibly when he offered the cup a second time and she quickly clapped her hands across her middle, as if it would somehow quell the sound. Her cheeks burned. Her body had already betrayed her and now it was keen to embarrass her as well.

Wonderful.

She was beginning to think death was preferable after all.

She released a shaky breath, then reached to accept the mug with quivering, light-laced fingers.

“Is this all I can eat now?”

He shook his head. “Think of it as a supplement, almost. You can still eat and drink as you normally would.”

A small relief, at least.

“Whose is it?” She asked.

His lips grew thin. “If I told you, would you still drink it?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

“I wish there was an alternative, but there aren’t any. You’ll need a steady supply in order to recover your strength. Among other things.”

She supposed she’d simply have to accept that. At present, she didn’t feel quite so different, beyond the lingering pain and the numbness that still accompanied the Shackles.

“Do you know many vampires?” She asked in an effort to distract herself from the swirling red contents of her cup.

“No. At least, not until recently,” he said. “You’re the first I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with directly. Who hasn’t tried to kill me, that is.”

Inerys managed to crack a small smile. “I’ll do my best not to.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate it. I’ve had plenty of close calls these past few days.”

“You and I both, it seems.”

He nodded toward her mug. “Best get on with it, then.”

“Right,” she said, shuddering.

Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and stifled her breath. Somewhere deep within her, she felt her hunger stir; a great, drowsy beast roused by the promise of food. It wasn’t so much the blood itself that it was after, but rather, what it contained. There was an underlying power within, calling to her like some forbidden spice. She indulged it, her curiosity overriding her terror. She’d never known blood to be so rich, to be so surprisingly sweet.

Something akin to a purr escaped her lips, though it hinged on a growl that wasn’t entirely human. For a moment, she was reminded of the mountain cats she once hunted within the Wilds. Only, she wasn’t out in the woods and the sound had not come from her prey. It had come from her.

She froze.

When she glanced up, Ruslan was staring, his body taught as a bowstring and poised on the defensive. Her Sense reared its head, alerting her to the magic condensing within his spirit, the hand gripping the blade at his side. Her body tensed on instinct and she gripped the empty mug tight. Even with her strength, she doubted she’d be able to gain the upper hand.

The moment passed within the span of a heartbeat and the man relaxed. He released the hilt of his blade and bared his gloved palm to her.

“Forgive me, you simply startled me.”

“It- it’s all right,” she said, “I think I startled myself.”

She placed a hand on her chest, her pulse rapid. How many more surprises would she discover in the coming days? She sagged in her chair and pressed a hand to her temple.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I feel like I’m a stranger in my own body.”

Ruslan frowned. “I can only imagine what you must be going through. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. What was done to you should never have happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

He flinched. It was subtle, but had been enough to catch her attention. Something like guilt passed behind his silvery eyes as his brows furrowed. A part of her wanted to press the subject, however, she decided against it.

“I haven’t had the chance to properly thank you, Ruslan,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t be here, had it not been for you.”

His lips edged into a small smile. “You’re welcome, Inerys.”

“How long do you think the Sage will keep me here?” She asked, wondering how long it would be until she could return home.

“A few days, perhaps. However, when we leave is ultimately up to me. For now, you’re still under my protection. And the Talhavar, by extension.”

“A few days?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Our situation is a bit more complicated. I have some business to see to first, but I’ll return later this evening to explain. You should be more comfortable when the sun is down as well. Perhaps some fresh air might do you some good?”

“I’d like that,” she said.

She was sick of this stuffy little room as it was.

“Good. We should see to finding you some proper provisions then, as well. I recovered your bow, but I’m afraid that was all.”

“Some new clothes would be nice,” she said, “But I’m afraid I have no money. Not here, at least.”

“Not to worry, being a ward of the Talhavar has its perks.”