A Shade of Vampire 24: A Bridge of Stars (4 page)

T
here was
no point in our whole group going to visit Hortencia. So although we all traveled back through the portal to Lake Nasser, it was decided that only Aisha, River and me would go.

I couldn’t have been more grateful that we had Aisha with us. Not only did she know how to locate Hortencia’s cave, she also found the strength to vanish the three of us there, which saved God knew how much of our precious time.

We appeared outside the entrance to the cave—a cave that was rather familiar to me by now. I moved forward first, holding River’s hand and pulling her down the narrow passageway leading to the oracle’s front door, while Aisha followed behind us. I knocked three times.

When there had been no reply after ten seconds, I called her name, “Hortencia!”

Still no reply.

“Hortencia!” I called again, more loudly, my voice resounding off the tunnel walls.

I pressed my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear a sound. Not even breathing.

As much as I’d been dreading the idea of coming face to face with the oracle again and trying to make sense of her winding words, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of panic now.
Is she all right? What’s happened?

“Let me go in,” Aisha said. She vanished.

River’s and my breathing was uneven as we waited in tense silence. A few seconds passed before the door opened; it was Aisha, letting us into an otherwise vacant room.

River and I stepped inside and gazed around. For a moment I feared that perhaps somebody had managed to kidnap the oracle and done something with her—after all, she was a most valuable asset to any race of supernatural—but there appeared to be no signs of struggle here. On the contrary, the few possessions the oracle had—a few pots, an old stove, her orbs and other strange artifacts—were neatly tucked away. It looked tidier than I’d ever seen it. The orderliness gave a chilling sense of finality to the emptiness of the room.

My throat dry, I looked from River to Aisha. “Where could she have gone?” I breathed.

Aisha looked just as bewildered as me. “I’ve no idea. She… She’s always been here. At least, every time I’ve visited. I wonder if maybe she went to visit her sister, Pythia.”

“Where does Pythia live?” I asked, my stomach twisting in knots. It made me sick to think of the time passing. We had just over a day left.

“I don’t know where she lives,” Aisha said, shrugging.

Cursing beneath my breath, I was about to grab River’s hand and leave the empty quarters when she pointed to a little package set atop a ledge. We’d been so distracted by the oracle’s absence, it hadn’t been noticed until now.

I walked over to it and picked it up. The wrapping was made of parchment, and within it was something weighty. I unfurled the paper and a tiny glass vial containing vivid green liquid dropped into my palm. Then I caught sight of four words scrawled across the parchment in burgundy ink:

Drink deep, curious fairy.

C
urious fairy
.
Grimacing, I handed the vial to Aisha. The oracle always did have a way with words.

“What do you think this is?” I asked the jinni.

Aisha examined the vial with a deep frown on her face. “She knew that you were coming for more answers,” she murmured. She opened the lid, sniffed the potion, and wrinkled her nose.

“Well?” I asked. I’d had enough dealings with vials of liquid to make me averse to drinking anything out of a bottle for the rest of my life.

“I’m not sure,” Aisha replied, replacing the cap.

“Well, you can’t just drink it, Ben,” River said, taking the bottle from Aisha and examining it herself.

And yet the oracle knew I was coming for answers… and she told me to drink it.

I’d already resigned myself to the fact that the fastest way forward would be to consult the oracle—despite how maddening she could be. And here was her note, giving me a direct instruction… I’d just been to hell and back. Could anything really be worse than that?

“I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” I muttered, taking the potion from River’s hands.

As I took a seat in a rickety chair, River’s face drained of all color. I hated to do this to her, but I had no choice. If we stood a chance of having a future together, we had to take risks.

I removed the cap and, raising the bottle to my lips, downed it in one shot.

An unbearable bitterness overwhelmed my taste buds and stung my tongue, but before I could even gag, my vision started to fade. I felt myself falling backward and I guessed that I would have toppled off the chair, but I couldn’t know for sure. My consciousness was elsewhere.

Darkness enshrouded me, but then there was light. A dim, flickering light. Like candlelight. As if a lens had just focused, I found myself in another cave, quite distinct from the one I’d just left. It was larger, with a concave ceiling. And it was bare except for a burning torch that hung from one wall, a glass flask of murky water, a bundle of tattered blankets on the sharp, rocky ground, and an old, eyeless woman, wearing a long dark dress—the signature garb of the oracle. But this… this was not the oracle I had met. Hortencia, although horribly disfigured, had still appeared youthful. Her face was unlined, as though she was no older than twenty-five. I imagined that if Hortencia had eyes, her face might’ve even been pretty, in a pixie-like way.

This woman’s face was as shriveled as a hundred-year-old’s, her form bent and crooked.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

The woman slid slowly off the rock and padded with bare feet across the sharp ground toward me. Her skin looked thin. I was sure the rocks would cut her soles. “You know me,” she rasped, her lips curving in a knowing smile.

“Hortencia?” I asked.
Who else could it be?

“It is me,” she said. “Always me.”

“What… What happened to you?”

“I left,” she said simply. “And I will not be returning. But I did not abandon you. I saw that your needy self would come for me, and so we meet like this.”

I was surprised that she had taken the trouble to leave that note and vial for me. In her eyes at least, Hortencia owed me nothing. On the contrary, I owed her. In fact, I wasn’t really sure why she bothered to help any supernaturals at all. Maybe it was just for her own amusement.

As I gazed around the chamber, I wanted to ask what “this” even was—where were we? But before I could, the oracle continued, “So you trusted me enough to drink the juice.”

Trust might be too flattering a word
. “I had no choice,” I said through gritted teeth.

She grinned, folds of her sagging skin bunching beneath her cheekbones. “Good,” she croaked. “You are learning. You are learning.”

Learning what?
I would have asked, but I had more burning questions. “I need to know about Cyrus,” I said.
Though, of course, you already know that.

Hortencia let out a deep cackle, which spiraled into a violent coughing fit. She dropped to her knees, her hands grasping the rocks as she hacked and spat. I was holding my breath as she looked up again.

What on earth happened to her?

She summoned the flask of stale water and drank from it. Then she folded her legs in front of her and sat cross-legged where she’d fallen. She patted the ground next to her. “Sit,” she commanded me. As I lowered myself, she smiled again—a sickly sweet smile—and said, “It’s story time.”

I nodded, waiting tensely for her to start.

“Close your eyes and concentrate on my words,” she said. She reached out a hand and trailed her clammy fingers from the top of my forehead down to my eyelids, forcing them closed. Then, removing her hand, she began…

“Once upon a time in the land of jinn, there lived a mighty king known as Harzad Drizan. Like his father and grandfather, Harzad was a ruthless leader. He built upon the work of his ancestors to forge a path toward establishing the Drizans as the most prominent tribe in The Dunes. He ruled with an iron fist, and his people respected him, while all other tribes cowered in his wake… except for the Gheens. Although a smaller tribe than the Drizans, the Gheens were highly intelligent and fiercely tenacious, bowing to no-one.

“As the years passed, and Harzad’s two sons grew into men, having children of their own, the time came for Harzad to relinquish his reign—as is the custom of jinn. The Gheens were still unvanquished, and Harzad knew how great a challenge his reigning son would have to face as king.

“His older son was Trezus, while his younger was Cyrus. As was the tradition with royal siblings, the role of leader did not automatically go to the eldest. It went to whomever rose victorious in a treacherous contest, arranged by the king himself to determine true worthiness of the throne.

“Harzad’s father, Setir, had done the same to him and his three brothers, and Harzad’s grandfather had done the same to Setir. And as was also the custom among Drizans, the stakes of each generation’s test had to be raised. The tasks would get harder, more impossible, for this was the way that they ensured their rulers only went from strength to strength, and never weakened.

“Harzad took his time in selecting the task and eventually, with the help of his counsel, he came up with what he believed to be the perfect idea.

“The Drizans were famed for their affinity for The Dunes’ native scorpions. Creatures the size of small horses, with looming, venomous stingers and pincers strong enough to squish a man’s skull like butter. Harzad’s great-grandfather had taken in a large horde of these scorpions and bred them in captivity. Using his unparalleled powers, he had experimented with numerous mutations until he came upon the perfect variation to employ as additional security for their lair. By the end, he’d managed to make their venom so potent, a single sting could kill a jinni in a matter of seconds if caught in their physical form… unless the jinni was exceptionally strong. Only one had been known to survive the sting, and that was the leader of the Gheens.

“In those days the Drizans’ prominence was less established, and the creatures were of use for a number of years. Once the Drizans had secured their supremacy among the jinn, Harzad’s ancestor released a number back into the wild, where they continued to breed uninhibited.

“It was these wild scorpions that Harzad used for his task. Trezus and Cyrus were to battle in an arena with two male scorpions—one each—slaying the monsters, and then drinking the venom from their stingers in front of the gathered crowds. There would be only two rules: the upper halves of their bodies must remain in a physical state, and they weren’t allowed to use magic. Whoever survived both the battle and the venom would be crowned that very same day. If it became a draw, then Harzad would be forced to think up another worthy challenge.

“The brothers were each given four days to prepare for the task—however they chose to do so, using either brain or brawn—and went their separate ways.

“Trezus immediately summoned the clan’s physician and spent the first two days developing an antidote that could line his stomach against the poison. Then the next two days he spent in the armory, gathering and training with the most lethal weapons.

“His younger brother Cyrus, on the other hand, disappeared. He vanished the same hour the men were given the task and he remained absent the entire four days. Nobody knew where he went, not a single one of his wives or children. But on the night of the contest, when the two men were due to meet for the contest, Trezus arrived bearing antidotes and weapons, while Cyrus came with nothing at all. Not even a shield to cover his exposed chest.

“His father was both surprised and saddened; Cyrus had always been his favorite of the two. Trezus was only encouraged, thinking that his brother’s arrogance would surely lead to his demise.

“The king, queen and all the Drizan people gathered in a makeshift arena in the desert, with the two brothers standing on either side. Two jinn let loose the first mammoth black scorpion a few feet in front of Trezus—who had volunteered to go first.

“As the scorpion hurtled toward Trezus, he valiantly swung and swiped with his swords, but he was unable to get close enough to gouge the scorpion, so ferociously protected by pincers and a towering stinger. In the end, he managed to spear through a joint in its neck—paralyzing it—but when Trezus severed the stinger from the dying scorpion and squeezed the venom into his mouth, he collapsed instantaneously. The attendant physicians gathered round, but they were too late. Trezus Drizan had not been strong enough to withstand the poison. He was not worthy of his father’s crown.

“All eyes turned on Cyrus. Two jinn brought in the second scorpion and placed it in front of Cyrus. It scuttled toward him, just as the other had done to Trezus, but as it reached within four feet of the younger brother, it stopped abruptly. The ringmasters gathered round, suspicious that Cyrus could be playing foul and using supernatural powers, but they soon verified he was not.

“The scorpion remained still, pincers folded, stinger hanging low, as was its head. It was as though the beast was bowing to the young man. And then, with one swift movement, Cyrus launched onto the back of the scorpion, took its stinger within his muscular arms and snapped it from its body. He leapt off as the scorpion flailed and rolled onto its back. Shortly after, the supervisors pronounced it dead.

“The crowd held their breath as Cyrus bit right into the barbed stinger, tearing through the flesh until he reached the venom, where he poured a full mouthful into his jaws for all to see. He swallowed… and yet he stood.

“A minute passed. Two minutes. Three minutes.

“Still he stood.

“The crowd erupted, the king and queen relieved, and all present hailed their new king as a miracle. A gift from God Himself. Harzad simply labeled him as the son he’d always known he had, a true heir to his throne.

“Cyrus’ coronation ceremony was the most lavish in the history of the Drizans. And so began Cyrus’ rule. Even more ruthless than his father, after only four years, he eradicated the Gheens as any potential threat. But throughout Cyrus’ years of ruling, until this very day, he never revealed to anybody how he truly came to power. How he truly withstood the test his older brother could not. And why should people question him, when by his actions he was so clearly meant to lead?”

The oracle’s voice faded. I opened my eyes—or at least my mind’s eye. Her head was tilted toward me thoughtfully, the torchlight sending shadows dancing across her wizened face.

“Well?” I said. “What did happen to Cyrus during those four days? What did he do? What has given him the strength that he has?”

I should’ve expected what was coming the minute she stopped talking at such a pivotal moment in the story.

“Benjamin, Benjamin,” she said, with an almost gleeful smile. “You like to be spoon fed, don’t you?”

I like straight answers, the same as any person who is not insane.

But I already sensed that I was going to get nothing of the sort from the oracle. Her outward appearance might’ve changed drastically, but she was still the same maddening woman.

“I will give you what you need, not what you think you need,” she said after a pause. “And what you need is my advice.”

Advice.
The last time she’d given me her “advice”, I’d ended up trafficked to The Underworld and imprisoned as an ornamental pet.

“What is your
advice
?” I asked, my jaw tight.

She rose to her feet. Her withered, almost unrecognizable face panned down to me as she replied, “Return to The Drizans’ palace and remember… everybody has something to hide.”