Falling for Forever (15 page)

Bryn looked away from him. "I know enough," came her meek reply. After a few long moments of silence, she spoke again. "What's grass taste like?" she asked absently, hoping to change the subject.

Blackberry shrugged.
"Like any other plant, I suppose."

"Oh," she replied. Bryn took a blade and began chewing on it. She kept her face still, hoping to hide her displeasure. Although the grass was sweet and moist, it was still just grass, and no amount of encouragement would make her think otherwise.

Blackberry laughed softly.
"You aren't supposed to eat it. Only animals like horses and cows and others. Your body isn't made for it."

She looked up at him and nodded. "I don't know what Strytas are supposed to eat. I hadn't ever tried grass before, so I wanted to see if that was a possibility. It isn't."

"You don't know what you are supposed to eat?"

Bryn shook her head.

"Then how have you been eating so far?"

She shrugged. "Some things taste okay, I guess. There are some things I even like eating. Most just make me feel full for a few hours. There's nothing that I really enjoy."

Blackberry nodded.
"Horses are fortunate in that. We know what we are supposed to eat. And we know what is expected of us, for the most part at least."

"I used to know what was expected of me. But now, I'm not so sure," she said quietly.

"Do you ask this many questions of Mariah?"

Bryn's cheeks flushed red. "Not anymore. She doesn't seem to like it very much when I do. So I try not to."

"That's probably wise,"
Blackberry said as he moved to another fresh patch of grass.

She nodded and rose to her feet. "Thank you, Blackberry, for letting me spend some time with you." He gave her a soft neigh and continued grazing. Bryn walked toward the cabin in a slow daze. Blackberry was right:  horses were fortunate. She longed for Mariah to tell her what to do, even if it was cooking or cleaning. At least then, she would know what Mariah wanted from her.

The cabin was quiet when she got there. She hadn't seen Mariah go across the field, so she assumed that he was probably still asleep behind the waterfall. Although the stone had been smooth and comfortable, her muscles still ached for a warm bath. Bryn's feet sank deeply into the peach rug of the bedroom as she crossed it. Near the bed, the floor felt different. She walked over the spot again, slower this time. There was a strange dip in the floor that she hadn't noticed before. Bryn peeled back the rug enough to reveal the spot. There, halfway under the bed, was a trapdoor in the floor. She looked around for Mariah but didn't see her. She didn't hear her either. Her mind told her not to open the door, but her curiosity was louder and more persistent. Besides, she only wanted to have a look. If she was careful and fast, then she could see what was under the bedroom before Mariah would ever know that she was down there.

The trapdoor opened silently on well-oiled hinges. A solid oak ladder led down into a dark room. Bryn tentatively stuck her head through the opening before going down the ladder. Her eyes took only a second to adjust to the dim torchlight of the chamber. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with objects of all sorts and sizes. A few she recognized, most she didn't. Bryn ran her hand over a small glass jar before a bag caught her attention. She walked over to it and picked it up. It was only about the size of her palm and made out of a dark cloth. It wasn't leather like the Mariah's other bags. And it didn't feel like coins either. It was almost like a powder, but it felt too light for it to be filled with sand or dirt. Bryn opened it slowly and reached a finger inside.

The powder was warm, but more than that it seemed soft and gentle, like a mother singing to a newborn or a ray of sunlight. Then Bryn knew what it was. She pulled her fingers out slowly so as not to spill any of the precious powder. The tips of her fingers glittered with the golden powder. She licked one of them, just to be sure. The powder coated her tongue and warmed her body. Her skin began to glow with a soft golden hue. There was no mistaking the powder's origin.

" Yarrow…" she softly said softly as her eyes began brimming with tears. She cinched the bag and placed it back on the shelf. There was only a small amount left, but even that was worth a fortune, and she didn't want any to spill out. Bryn licked the rest of her fingers off and sat down on the stone floor, awaiting the rapture that would come.

It was always the same. The warm glow started in her mouth then spread throughout her body, taking her breath away with its power. She had felt the sensation hundreds of times, but it was always as perfect as that first moment when she had broken her arm, and Yarrow had given her some to take away the pain. He had told her that only good creatures could feel it as profoundly as she did. As a child, Bryn had no idea what he meant, but as she saw Franklin let his friends taste the powder, she understood. They felt the warmth, but not the bliss that came with it. Their skin had no luster. Their senses did not heighten. They remained the same, except for the slow warming that crept through their bodies.

Her heart began beating faster as the powder circled in her breast. It flowed, gently at first, then faster as it neared its mark. There was a sharp pain as the powder touched the small tip of Yarrow's horn that remained lodged in her stomach, but it quickly subsided. Bright white light spread across the room from her stomach as the piece of horn began radiating its own magic. She felt safe, comfortable and loved. It was the feeling of being home and asleep in her mother's arms as a child.  Yarrow had allowed her to touch those memories that she had forgotten. Her mother, with her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, held her close. Her father had been there too. He kissed her forehead and ran a gentle hand down her arm.

Bryn let the tears fall freely. Although she hadn't been with her parents in nineteen years, the memory was a clear as if they had been there with her. It wasn't fair. She should have been allowed to stay with her parents. Her memories faded as the powder lost its magic. It allowed her to see only a glimpse of things and nothing more.  Yarrow had been trying to show her how to harness and control it, so that she could see a particular memory. But he had been taken away before he could teach her fully. So she had only learned how to go back to the beginning, to her birth. It was still wonderful.

As her skin and senses returned to their normal state, Bryn looked up at the bag. She resisted the urge to take more of it. Mariah might notice if too much was missing, and she also didn't want to spend too much time in the chamber. There was no way to know how much time passed each time she entered her memories. Sometimes it was only a moment; others it had taken an hour or more. She had been defenseless during those times, but Yarrow had usually been by her side to protect her. Bryn looked at each of her wings, checking the brilliance and texture. The powder always made her feathers grow at an alarming rate. It also improved the color and softness. This time was no different.

Bryn rose to her feet to make sure she wasn't mistaken. But she wasn't. Her wings were back to their full size and strength. Even her broken wing had been restored to its original glory. She flapped them once to test them, the motion of it causing the torch flames to sway in the breeze. Bryn laughed and folded her wings over her shoulders. "Thank you, Yarrow," she softly said before planting a kiss on the bag.

Her eyes traveled to the center of the room. A large table stood there, its edges lined in tall candles. The table was covered in a soft fabric with intricate gold symbols on it. She touched a few of them. They meant nothing to her, but she wondered what they meant to Mariah. A large book rested in the center of the table. She opened it slowly, not wanting to damage any of the pages. The book was at least a century old with dark pages and torn edges. Each page was covered in a fine script that she didn't recognize. Somewhere she remembered seeing the language, but she didn't have the faintest idea where. Bryn carefully closed the book and moved away from the table.

A wooden door that she hadn't noticed on her way in stood across from her. It wasn't very big, probably just enough for Mariah to go through it. She went to it and opened it slowly, unsure of what would be on the other side. A torch hung every few feet, just as in the other room. But this room was a circle. Bryn had never seen anything like it. The tall ceiling was even circular, creating a dome above her head. Various weapons hung along the walls. She inspected a few of them but found little interest in most. They were all beautiful, of course, but weapons had never fascinated her the way they did for some people. Bryn removed a sword from its resting place. It was heavy in her hands. She made a few slashes in the air with it before the weight became too cumbersome to manage. Bryn turned back around to replace the sword.

She had just put it back on the wall when a cold chill shot through her. Something was behind her, watching her. She could feel its breath, cold as ice, against the back of her neck. It wasn't Mariah. This thing was distinctly evil, more so than anything she had ever seen before. Bryn turned around slowly, her hands shaking at her sides.

A pair of blood-red eyes stared back at her.

Bryn opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Tears streamed down her face as she stood helplessly before him. Her legs refused to move, although her mind was screaming at them. The air rushed back into her lungs, giving her the breath she had been seeking.

"Mariah!" she screamed, her voice shaking with urgency.

The creature took a step toward her, and said in a voice like a hissing snake, "Mariah can't hear you."

She looked helplessly at him. For the first time, really, she took a good look at the creature before her. He was as tall as a man, and his outline was that of a man too. But his body was nothing more than a dark shadow.

Bryn yelled for Mariah again as the creature continued to advance slowly toward her. With her heart pounding wildly in her ears, she realized that he was right. There was no way that Mariah could hear her all the way under the cabin. Even if Mariah would be angry at her for going into the chamber she would have given anything to have Mariah next to her.

She took a deep breath and struggled to assess the situation the way Damascus had taught her. She forced herself to look away from the creature's red eyes. The door, it was open, but no, it was too far away. She would never make it in time. She took a step backward, away from the icy breath of the creature. Cold steel pressed against her neck. The sword. Even a weapon that was too heavy for her was better than none at all. She pulled it off the wall and grabbed the hilt with both hands.

"Stay back!" she warned in the strongest voice she could muster.

"Or what?" the creature mocked.

"I'll cut you! I swear I will!" she yelled desperately at him.

He only smiled, but it wasn't a smile, merely just an opening of his shadow of a mouth. With one fluid thrust, Bryn slammed the sword, up to the hilt, into the creature's chest. The shadow rolled his eyes and pulled the sword out, a look of annoyance, crossing his face. "Look at me, Bryn. Do you really think a simple little sword could kill me?"

She shook her head, furious at herself for believing that it could. Franklin had said the same thing to her that time she had tried to kill him. She believed that a sword would work then too, but it hadn't. And he had mocked her, just as the shadow creature was doing now. He held the sword up with his fingers, the blade pointing down. "What are you?" she asked, her voice no more audible than the flapping of a butterfly's wings.

"I am a shadow demon. My name is Ceylon," he replied softly. As she retrieved the sword from him, he took a seat on the stone floor. Bryn returned the sword to its resting place and joined him, her legs folded in front of her. "I don't want to kill you. Even if I did, it is impossible for me to. Killing you would bring me no closer to my goal."

"Which is?"

"To kill Mariah."

Bryn raised her eyes to his. He had said it so bluntly, so quickly, she couldn't be sure if he had really said it at all. But as they stared at each other, she knew that he had. "I won't let you," she said darkly.

"You will try to stop me, of course, but you have no defense against me Bryn. You are still so inexperienced in all things magical. You wouldn't have the slightest idea how to kill me."

She folded her wings around her body. Chills ran through her, but whether they were caused by Ceylon or the chamber being cold, she couldn't tell. "You are evil, aren't you? And more just a little evil, almost everyone is a little evil. You are pure evil." She had felt it, almost like being kicked in the stomach when she had first realized he was behind her.

 Ceylon nodded and grinned. "Yes. I am evil."

"Then I do know how to defeat you," she replied. Her nerve hardened as she stared into his red eyes. If he was evil, she knew exactly how to defeat him.

"Oh? I am surprised. Mariah must have taught you well," the creature said dryly.

"Mariah did not teach me this," Bryn said with a smile. There were few creatures that she knew how to destroy, and this was one of them. "Anything evil can be conquered with good. It is the balance of all nature. But if there is more good than evil, the evil will then be destroyed."

 Ceylon laughed and shook his head. "Even if you were pure, little Strytas, there wouldn't be enough good in you to do that."

"Who said I was talking about me?"

He was confused, but only for a second. His eyes shot to her stomach, to the glowing circle just under her dress. "A unicorn…" he softly said as the red orbs of his eyes widened. She thought she could almost see fear in them.

Bryn nodded. "Next to newborns, unicorns are the purest form of good imaginable. I think I know what would happen if one were to touch you, Ceylon."

"Then why don't you do it then?"

She sat back, her head resting against the stone wall. "First, tell me why Mariah keeps you down here." There were many questions she had for the creature. That was only the first. She had overcome her fear of him and her curiosity had taken hold. He was right, killing her was impossible for him. Shackles, made of nothing more than shadow, hung on his wrists. From them, shadowy chains held him to the floor. He could move no more than a few feet in any direction. She chided herself for not noticing them sooner.