Phantom of the Heart (24 page)

Cybralle nodded her thanks at the young servant girl who had just filled her goblet with wine. Everyone, except Orla and Sterling, was gathered in the Great Hall. While waiting for them, everyone was sitting around, keeping their thoughts company. Cybralle took the time to study the room. Just like the rest of the Hidden Palace, the space was richly decorated. The hall actually outshone many royal galleries she had seen across her travels. The light of torches bounced off the gleaming, tiled floor. A number of marble statues in different poses were placed against the walls, highlighted by the torches above each of them. A large tapestry, which depicted an epic battle, adorned one side of the room. The soldier in her was immediately drawn to the artwork. She quietly walked over to the wall and studied the tale woven into the cloth. It was bloody and dramatic. Decapitated bodies littered the battlefield, while men on horseback pranced around, their expressions triumphant.

“That was before my day, but I have heard about it more times than I can remember as a teenager.”

Cybralle had not heard him come over, but she thanked her training for not giving away her surprise. A warrior should expect anything, anytime, from anywhere. She was, at present, surrounded by five Ulvs; it would be unwise to drop her guard in such a situation. What was keeping Sterling and Orla? She turned to acknowledge the man's presence.

“The past inspires the future. I know that this battle had a profound impact on the lives of many for generations to come.”

Gentro smiled and Cybralle was once again amazed by how much he looked like Orla. They could easily pass for twins. Familiar ice-blue eyes twinkled at her.

“That was the first time we had to save the world from human tyranny.” Gentro's eyes slid away from Cybralle to look at the tapestry. “About nine hundred years ago, a greedy warlord thought himself powerful enough to conquer the known world. Countless warnings for him to rescind his claim on the gods' subjects fell on deaf ears. He went from village to village slaughtering innocents to stir fear and garner notoriety. We had no choice but to engage him and his army. We banished the warlord to the icy Wastelands up north, alone with only a pack of bloodthirsty canines to keep him company.”

Gentro turned back to her, and Cybralle waited patiently for him to continue.

“Since his demise, not many like him have tried to taunt the gods again. Humankind became more conscious of the fact that they were not deserted by the gods. They realized and understood their personal worth. Many would now say that the
Battle of Escolpi
was what spurred humankind to unlock their potential and carve the earth into a place they could call home. We gave them a place where they could venerate their gods and live as freely as they could.” Gentro took a drink from his goblet. “So yes, you are right. The past certainly inspires a better future.”

Cybralle turned back to the painting. She wondered what it was like living in those times. It seemed to have been much more brutal than was the case now. But Mesmeria would not have been born yet. For that reason she loved the epoch she lived in.

“You do not trust us.”

Surprised by the bold statement, she blinked at the man. Of course he was not wrong. She would be imprudent to trust huge, bipedal predators just on hearsay. What had given her away?

“What makes you say that?”

A broad smile came over the man's handsome face. “Unless it is a new custom in Karas to dine in full body armor, then I apologize for my hastily uttered speculation.”

Cybralle blushed slightly at the observation. She shrugged. “It is a habit that has saved my life countless times.”

Gentro nodded. “Then by all means do not change it to appease us. I would let you know though, that we are not the enemy. Our daughters have joined our houses and our destinies.” The blue eyes searched hers with piercing intensity. “I was there that night when you told Orla about the Ulvs. Do you know that only a small group of humans know that much about the Ulv?”

Cybralle studied the man. He had an honest face just like Orla. Even now, he was looking at her with honest curiosity. She wondered what he was implying with his last question.

“Why do you think I should?”

“In present day religions, humans have a tangible manifestation of their devotion in the form of a book. They are guided through life by what has been immortalized for them on scrolls. Many hundreds of centuries ago, the Ulv chose a few men and women who were believed to be steadfast in their loyalty to the gods and deemed pure of spirit. They were indoctrinated in the legends of the Ulv and sent out to all corners of the world to spread the word of our existence.” Gentro's eyes were sharp as they watched her. Cybralle met his gaze head on. “That mission became their legacy and was filtered down from generation to generation. Believe it or not, Cybralle Honig, you are part of us.”

Cybralle's mind refused to accept that truth. For the first six years of her life, she had grown up with her parents. They were neither poor nor rich. Her father worked as a miner and her mother as a seamstress. They had a small hut where they kept a milk cow and a small vegetable patch. Life was easy and pleasant. That was until an accident at the underground mine robbed her of her father. Her mother tried to keep ends together, but in the end they had to pack up and join her grandmother who lived in a nearby village. Her first memory of her grandmother was that she was an intense woman who passed her days working her small vegetable garden and selling her produce in the daily market. Vernera was a loving but quiet woman, who only came alive when dusk fell and a group of villagers congregated at her doorstep. She would greet them with barely contained excitement. Once everyone was comfortable, she would expertly draw them away from their hard, backbreaking workdays to a land of fairy tales and magic. She spun tales of the gods and the powerful protectors that walked like man amongst them. The Ulvs! Cybralle's eyes snapped to Gentro, who looked at her with a knowing smile. The only times her grandmother had actually called them by their name, were when the two of them were alone.

“After you told Orla about the Ulvs, I was intrigued. Many of our wordsmiths discarded the practice along the way with the emergence of a dual religion. We have kept records of everyone over the years.” Gentro's smile broadened. “It was not difficult to trace you back to your grandmother. Just like you, she was a great warrior and her mother before her.”

Cybralle's eyes widened.
That
, she did not know. Vernera had been very supportive of Cybralle's choice to join the Arnati army, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Many parents encouraged their daughters to become warriors instead of living the oppressive lives of young wives who were expected to breed every year. It was very hard to think of her quiet, soft-spoken grandmother wielding a sword. To her, Vernera was a storyteller and a farmer. Her mother had remarried and started a new family with her husband. Vernera was all too happy to be the rightful guardian of her only grandchild. Cybralle had stayed with her grandmother until she moved to the palace to live in the barracks.

Cybralle snorted softly. There was no way that Vernera was who this man said she was. Yes, the storyteller part made perfect sense, but that was where her knowledge about her grandmother stopped. The woman had died many years ago, while Cybralle was quelling a border war between Karas and the kingdom of Herkon in the south. Cybralle was still aware of Gentro's eyes on her and she brought her goblet to her lips as she fixed him with an amused gaze.

“I think you have mistaken my grandmother for someone else.”
A warrior indeed!
Cybralle suppressed the chuckle that wanted to escape her lips, by taking a long drink from her wine.

“I rarely make mistakes. But we shall leave this for now. Orla and Sterling have arrived.”

Cybralle turned to find her Sterling and Orla walking into the room, their hands clasped together. She need not be a seer to know what the two women had been engaged in during their long absence. Sterling was glowing, as was Orla.

Chapter 24

Orla was ravenous. It was no surprise after her fight with Ridat and his men. Of course there was also the enjoyable tussle she had with her wife but a few minutes ago. As the reigning monarch, Tart took a seat at the head of the table and the others followed suit. Cybralle came over to take a seat next to Sterling. Orla gave her a nod and quick smile. Servers rushed around the table to keep their wine glasses filled, as the late supper was consumed in relative silence.

Orla made sure to keep an eye on Sterling and Cybralle's plates to ensure that they had more than enough to eat. At the head of her table, she noticed her grandmother scowling at her grandfather as he heaped his plate full of food. A quick look at Helm and Gentro made her grin at the amusement on their faces. It seemed she had inherited at least one thing from her grandfather. To take the focus off him, she pulled the meat platter to her and heaped her plate. Tart looked up and his eyes zeroed in on her portion. A wide smile broke over his face, causing his dark eyes to shine like polished onyx. He gave her a proud nod and returned to his meal.

“I was wondering if you had inherited anything from him at all,” Sterling said quietly.

Orla gave Sterling a sly wink. “You are the reason my energy is almost depleted.” She smiled when a soft blush rose from Sterling's neck. She turned her attention back to her plate, but felt eyes on her. When she looked up, she was surprised to find Minos watching her. He had a mysterious smile on his lips as he held her gaze. Orla felt a strange feeling settle in her chest. She did not like the way he looked at her. She disliked it even more when he turned his dark gaze on Sterling. Orla averted her gaze and attacked her food with renewed zeal. She needed to replenish her strength. If that strange vibe she got from Minos meant what she thought it did, she would need to be vigilant. Her body language must have changed, because she felt Sterling's hand on her thigh. A quick glance at Sterling confirmed her wife's concern.

“What is wrong?”

Orla chanced a quick look at Minos and found him to be in conversation with Helm. She turned back to Sterling.

“I am not sure. I want you to finish your food so I can get the two of you away from here.”

“Orla?” Sterling sounded scared.

“Please, do as I ask. I promise not to let anything happen to you.” Sterling's hand on her thigh tightened and Orla placed hers over the smaller one. “No need for concern. I will handle this.”

Orla returned to her meal, but she kept Minos in her sight. How was it that the man sent to help them could turn out to be the one she had to worry about? She threw a quick glance at the others around the table. No one seemed to be disturbed. Her grandmother was having a quiet conversation with Gentro. Tart's complete focus was on the plate of food before him. Helm had a dark frown on his face as he listened to Minos. Everything looked normal. Maybe she had imagined it. She reached for a sliver of cold pork and chewed it slowly. She turned to look at Sterling. The silver eyes met hers, but they darkened suddenly. Orla tried to decipher the expression in Sterling's eyes, but then it did not matter anymore. A large, dark shadow was reflected in Sterling's eyes, and it was coming straight at her wife.

Orla surged to her feet, kicking Sterling's chair out of the way. She felt the tiny ember in her stomach flare to life. Scorching flames lit her blood and with a deep growl, she pushed her Ulv to the surface. She dropped to the floor. Minos flew over her and landed on his four paws a few meters away, slamming into a small statue and crushing it under his weight. Orla surged to her feet, stretching out her imposing physique. She threw her head back and let out an angry snarl. Minos was huge, matching her own size. The ancient threw his arms wide, as he responded to her anger. Punching the air with her paws, Orla advanced on him. The meeting of their bodies was deafening; causing the room to undulate with their power and anger. Minos ducked just in time to avoid Orla's claws, as they swept through the air aiming at his head. Having anticipated the move, Orla's hind legs shot out and she caught him in the stomach. The ancient flew through the air and slammed into the wall, leaving a long crack. Seeing her advantage, Orla swept down on him. Minos shot to his feet, but Orla was already on top of him, dragging him back to the floor. She lifted her claw to render a stunning blow to his head and watched as Minos' eyes registered disbelief. She stalled her arm just as Tart's voice thundered through the quiet hall.

“Enough!”

Orla heard the authority in her grandfather's voice, but refused to adhere to the order immediately. This unprovoked attack was disturbing. She could not take a chance with Sterling and Cybralle's lives, when supposed friends could turn foe as was the case now. The realization caused her rage to intensify. Sterling would only be safe if the threat was eliminated.

“Let him go, Orla,” said a voice behind her.
No, Sterling,
Orla pleaded silently,
do not ask me to let him live. He might take you away from me if I do.
A soft touch to her side caused her fur to bristle at the unexpected sensation. It was so contradictory to the fury that raged inside her. “Please, let him go.”

Orla gave a soft whine and the hand patted her gently. Shaking her head, Orla whined again and sat back on her haunches, her eyes fixed on the prone body of Minos. She was not going to change back unless she was sure that Minos was not going to attack again. The ancient slowly sat up. Orla stiffened and rose, ready to quell a fresh attack. Minos took a deep shuddering breath. As he slowly pushed the air back out, his body began to shrink and the dark hair faded until he sat there in his naked glory. A servant girl rushed over to hand Minos a shift which he quickly donned. When he looked up at her, Orla was confused to see a huge grin on his face.

“Had I known testing you would be so painful I would not have volunteered at all.”

Orla cocked her head to the side, looking at the man before her from her great height. Sterling moved to stand next to her, with a hand caught in her fur. The silver eyes were bright with wonder as she looked up at her.

“Are you all right?”

Orla's ears perked at the soft question. Was that not what she was supposed to ask Sterling? She reached out a massive arm and pulled Sterling to her. With a soft whine, she bowed her head and sniffed at Sterling. She seemed to be fine. There was no smell of blood, nor could she see any open wounds. With Sterling so close and unharmed, Orla felt her rage subsiding. She turned her head to look at the others and found everyone studying her intently. Cybralle, on the other hand, had her sword in hand, her body tense, as she watched Sterling. Everything seemed to be back to normal. She lowered her head and gently coaxed her Ulv inside. Back in human form, Orla's eyes were intense as they studied Sterling. Her wife was turned away from her, as she accepted a shift from a servant. When the silver eyes met hers again, Orla felt as if a large rock had been rolled from her chest. There was no disdain in Sterling's eyes. Instead those eyes churned with concern and love. After throwing the shift over Orla's shoulders, Sterling helped her to her feet. Aware of all the eyes on them, Orla blushed when Sterling cradled her face in her smaller hands.

“My hero,” the princess murmured softly, as she searched Orla's eyes.

Orla smiled and touched her forehead to Sterling's. She would have loved to kiss her wife then and there, but not with an audience present. They stood like that for a few heartbeats. At the clearing of a throat, they both turned.

Orla's body stiffened as she looked at Minos. The ancient's smile broadened, as he held up his hand. “There is something I have to tell you, Orla.” He pointed to the chairs. “Would you mind?”

Taking Sterling's hand, she led her wife to her upturned chair. She quickly righted the chair and did the same to her own. When they were seated, Minos remained standing. Orla felt Sterling's hand slip into hers underneath the table. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I believe you are familiar with your heritage by now. What I have to tell you is something that only a select few know.” Orla saw him look at Helm. The secretive conversation she had seen taking place between the two men came to mind. Minos had mentioned a test. Helm had known what was going to happen. She threw her great-grandfather a hard look and he responded with a wink.

“For the sake of Orla's spouse and her mother-in-law, I would suggest we start from the beginning,” Tart said and Orla was, once again, impressed by the man's thoughtfulness.

Minos' gaze swept to Sterling and Cybralle. “Yes, I think you are right. They are part of the family. Many thousands of years ago…”

Orla pulled her abandoned plate close again and resumed eating as Minos began his tale.

***

Cybralle was still shaking where she sat next to Sterling. What she had seen a few minutes ago would stay with her forever. She cast a quick glance in Orla's direction and found the pale-blue eyes resting on her. She held the gaze for a few moments before she looked away. Who would have thought that the quiet, timid blacksmith could morph into such a frighteningly large beast? She had known the girl since she was a toddler. Lima had sometimes brought her to the castle and left her with the kitchen servants while she went about her duties. A few times, the blue-eyed toddler had wandered off and ended up lost in the palace. Although she was large for her age, towering over grown men at fifteen summers, Orla had always been unassuming. Cybralle cast a quick glance at Orla and found those eerie, blue eyes watching her. The gaze was steady, but Cybralle could easily read the fear in them. She knew that the girl was expecting to be rejected. Cybralle wondered if it would make any difference if she did. Sterling loved Orla and vice versa. Her daughter was loved and protected. That was all that counted in the end. She gave Orla a small smile and saw the blue eyes lighten with relief. Orla returned the smile and fixed her attention back on her food.

Cybralle turned her attention to Minos. Listening to the ancient, Cybralle was taken back to her childhood. She was, once again, sitting before the fire as her grandmother spun tale after tale of the godlike Ulvs. She listened as Minos told about the Ulv and how it had been preserved throughout the ages.

Minos took a long draught from his tankard. When he resumed his tale, his eyes were focused on Orla.

“Ridat's birth tainted the legacy, thus calling for the intervention of the gods. The gene had to be purified. That was done through the last pure Ulv born before Ridat.”

What was to come next was obviously very important, because Cybralle could feel the anticipation heighten. Minos was quiet for a few moments, his eyes touched everyone present.

“The Elders have been relieved of their duties. Some have opted to return to live at Mount Olympus. Others have asked to be granted mortality so they could live out their lives as mortals. The remaining have pledged their allegiance to the leader of the New Age.” Minos lifted his right hand to his chest. “Orla Peron.”

The silence following his revelation was deafening.

Cybralle turned to look at Orla and noticed that all eyes were on the girl.

***

Orla slowly climbed to her feet. She simply stood there as she looked at Minos. This was not what she had expected nor wanted. Just when she thought that Sterling was coming to terms with her Ulv side, this had to happen.

“Orla?” Sterling rose to her feet too.

Orla looked at her wife for a long moment. She wished she could say something to ease the concern she saw, but she herself was too confused. She turned away and walked out of the hall. She needed time to think about this. She was barely outside the castle walls when the transformation began. With her shift, the churning emotions began to fade until only the need to feel the wind in her fur spurned her on. She did not stop until she was almost dizzy from exhaustion. She heard a stream nearby and stumbled in that direction. After she drank her fill, she stood back and sniffed the air. She had no idea where she was.

Shaking her body, she carefully wandered back into the forest. The horizon was lightening gradually, and she needed to find her way back home. The call of her mate inside was too strong for her to ignore.

***

“She will not stray too far, not with you here.”

Sterling spun around to look at the tall blonde woman standing behind her. Sterling was momentarily stunned by the familiar, ice-blue eyes looking at her. She gave the woman a curt nod and turned back to scanning the large wooded area. She had rushed to stop Orla, but her wife was gone by the time she reached the outside walls of the castle. Her mother had joined her earlier, but in her distress Sterling had refused to leave her lookout post on the tower. Just the thought of Orla being out there and hurting was driving her almost insane with worry. She had finally found Orla, only to lose her to Orla’s own troubling demons. A tear trickled down her cheek.

“I promised to always be there for her. How can I soothe her pain, if I do not know where she is?”

Audunn came to stand next to her, and Sterling wiped at the tear. She did not want to come across as weak before Orla's grandmother. She felt the woman's gaze on her.

“You need not hide your tears from me, Princess. They are testament of the great love you bear my granddaughter,” Audunn said softly. Sterling felt a soft touch on her shoulder and looked up at the woman. “We are all shocked by the turn of events. I, personally, cannot imagine what Orla must be feeling. Her running is the only way she can process the news. I do not want you to think she has abandoned you.”