Mythia: and the Awakened Beast Read online

  Faces stared. Their eyes widened. A girl with brown hair and blue eyes rushed over and hugged Mythia, before noticing she was soaked to the bone. Her gleeful face turned quickly concerned.

  The oldest man of the group with long, dark hair parted in the middle and a trimmed beared rushed forward. “Bestia. Are you all right? Have you been hurt?” Dozens of eyes stared at her in surprise. Mythia looked between all of them, recognition slowly coming back. The Rejicio. The army. These were her people, the recruits she had been training with. She exhaled out a huge sigh of relief.

  “I’m fine. It’s a man that was hurt… he’s being treated now. I helped carry him in.” Her voice still sounded strange to her. Far away.

  “You need a hot bath and dry clothes. Krea,” Eldrid called for the girl who hugged her. “If you could please provide hot water and dry clothes for Bestia. Immediately.” Krea nodded and grabbed Mythia’s hand, pulling her away from the boy with red hair. Zane, Mythia thought suddenly. How could I forget his name?

  Everyone stared as Krea pulled her into a door at the far end of the kitchen, finally away from prying eyes. Krea snapped her fingers and the torches were filled with light. She snapped them again and the small fireplace at the other end of the room roared to life. The room was large for a bedroom, with four hay filled beds lined up against the wall covered in white linen. Krea peeled off Mythia’s cloak and clothing. Everything was completely soaked through. Krea threw a thick wool blanket on her and hung the wet clothes in front of the fire before rushing out of the room and closing the door.

  Mythia sat at the edge of the bed nearest the fire, letting the warmth embrace her. The flames danced merrily away, a blue tinge lining the firewood. She watched, still plagued by the tugging feeling as though she were forgetting something. The flames licked higher into the grate, like dancing beasts… But that’s silly, she thought to herself. Beasts can’t dance in fire.

  She pulled the blanket around her body, waiting for the shivers to subside with the heat of the flames. The fire continued to push something significant into her mind, blazing lightening from within, a pair of piercing green eyes…

  Krea barged in carrying buckets of hot water and a cloth. Her black tunic and leggings wet from the buckets splashing out with each step. She handed them both to Mythia before facing away to give her privacy. “We were really worried about you when you didn’t show up for training, you know.” Mythia dunked the cloth into the hot steaming water and ran it up her arms. “And when you weren’t there this morning!” She shuddered. “We thought something terrible must have happened. I didn’t take you for one to just ignore your training duties and leave like that.” The hot water formed goosebumps up and down Mythia’s body. She dunked the cloth back into the bucket that had quickly turned to a murky reddish brown. “Then Eldrid mentioned that you may have been arrested or something, so we started thinking about going out there to save you… Zane and I that is.” Mythia gasped. Krea turned quickly around. “What’s wrong?”

  Krea raised her eyebrows and her eyes widened as she saw Mythia’s grossly disfigured skin from her left shoulder down to her hip. Mythia had gasped in pain, as if the water made her burnt skin sizzle and smoke. Mythia's mind went blank and she was suddenly standing in the king’s quarters, fire blazing around her, consuming her body. In a flash she was back to sitting on the bed in Rejicio City. Krea ran up to her and caught her just before she collapsed to the ground.

  She looked into Mythia’s eyes. “What happened to you, Bestia?”

  Mythia began to shudder so hard the room appeared to be shaking. “Fire,” she choked out the words. “All I remember is fire… But Krea… I can’t remember… there's something wrong with me.” Tears streamed down Mythia’s face as Krea clutched onto her shoulders, her blue eyes widening.

  10. RELINQUISHED MEMORIES

  The Doctrine’s brow dripped with sweat as he willed his hands with every ounce of his self-control to stay still. He took in slow, deep breaths, forcing the bile that crept up his throat to stay down. Titus pulled the freshly sharpened knife out of the flames and handed the hilt over to the Doctrine. They rested their eyes on each other for only a moment before looking back down at the man laid across the wooden table. His eyes were shut, his skin glistening in both sweat and blood. But he had regained consciousness and there was only one thing left to do to keep him alive.

  Clean and quick, the Doctrine warned himself. He lowered the sharp blade over Pileus’s left shoulder, right between the oozing infected wound and the healthy skin. He took in a deep breath and held it in his lungs. He lowered the blade.

  ◆◆◆

  The sound of screaming could be heard throughout the hidden city. Across the cavern, Mythia jumped with a start, feeling the horror and pain the screaming bore in every vibrato. It seemed to be echoing the impending feeling of doom that filled her empty mind. She stared at the long rectangular windows where the sound was breaking through. Krea dropped the dry clothes she was carrying. She turned her wide blue eyes to stare at Mythia, a look of horror on her face.

  “What is that?” Krea whispered. The screaming stopped. Mythia’s heart was still pounding in her chest. Even though it had turned silent, the screams continued to echo in her thoughts and stick to the walls. She had a feeling it would haunt her for a long time.

  Krea quickly snatched up the clothes she had dropped and tossed them over to Mythia who slipped them on. A long black dress. Her arms shook as she pulled her fingers through her wet hair. As soon as she was done, she nodded to Krea who crossed over to the door and pulled it open.

  The sound of chattering filled their ears. Zane was instantly by their side at the door.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked anxiously.

  “I think everyone in the mountain could hear that,” Krea answered. Zane shuddered. Eldrid appeared, frowning.

  “I know that scream,” he said mournfully. The three looked at him in surprise. “Something you never forget that you hear far too often as a soldier. The scream of a limb being lost.” He looked meaningfully at Mythia. Eldrid walked over to one of the round tables and poured wine into a goblet before thrusting it into Mythia’s shaky hand. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  She took a sip, feeling the warmth flow through her.

  “Whatever happened, Bestia,” Eldrid continued. “Whatever reason you had to leave for two days without warning… make sure it doesn’t happen again. Next time, I won’t be so lenient.” She swallowed another sip of wine and nodded fervently.

  “It won’t happen again,” she promised.

  ◆◆◆

  The two men watched Pileus’s chest moving slowly up and down. The Doctrine grinded up the feverfew Titus had found in Pileus’s cloak and administered it to both him and Ustrina, who lay peacefully in bed in the next room. She was doing better, her fever had gone down and she was finally taking in water. But the knight who lay in front of them was not so lucky- his left arm now just a heavily bandaged stump.

  “Why do you think Mythia didn’t try to heal him with her gifts last night?” Titus asked quietly, breaking the silence in the room. “I know she has the ability!”

  The Doctrine rubbed his eyes, red and puffy from fatigue. It was now early morning and neither of them had slept. “I have been considering that… and what Ustrina said is the only thing that might help us answer that question.” Titus looked at him questioningly, his wife’s prediction felt like weeks ago. “For within the queen there slowly wakes, a snarling beast, its prey it takes… in memories, in faces… those she knew well. Until there is nothing left… an empty crown… an empty shell.”

  “And there I was thinking we were done with the damn riddles,” Titus chuckled, but he quickly turned angry again. Each of the three golden scrolls they had to find last spring all contained riddles they had to interpret. “So, she’s losing her memories? Do you think she remembers us?”

  “I’m not sure. But it appears she does not remember who she is, which is going to put qu
ite the damper on her own destiny, and in turn the future of the kingdom. For if she doesn’t know who she is, she will not know the impact of her fate.”

  Titus let out a low whistle. “But why? And what can we do about it?”

  The Doctrine stood up and glanced down at Pileus, who breathed deeply in sleep from the strong herbs they had given him. “It’s the beast. The third scroll mentioned it as well.” He clears his throat. “‘And within thyself too shall awaken, a beast which must not be forsaken, but tamed and taught to fight with thee, when thou has learned to set it free.’”

  “And the beast is somehow feeding on Mythia’s memories…” Titus guessed.

  “It seems like it… We are riding in unknown territories, Titus. I fear the only solution right now is to do some research because my knowledge is, in this area, quite limited. And the best place to obtain information is in the Archives of Fenniks. I must go there immediately.”

  “But you can’t go on your own, my friend. You have the greatest mind in history, a memory that is unsurpassable, but I’m afraid your particular gifts are not of the sword,” Titus smiled. “I shall come with you.”

  “Then who would watch Ustrina and Pileus?” The Doctrine asked.

  Just then the door swung open with a low creak. Ustrina stood there, her blue eyes blazing, her silky white blond hair billowing behind her.

  “I will watch Lord Pileus,” she said. Her voice was strong. Titus ran up to her and held her hands in his, kissing them fiercely. Ustrina smiled.

  “You’re better?” The Doctrine asked, gently feeling her forehead. No more fever.

  “I am well enough to watch him.” She looked intently at the Doctrine. “You must go to the Archives. Retrieve the manuscript labeled Waking the Beasts and read the page marked thirty-three. Read it quickly while you’re still there, don’t bring it out.” She looked down at Titus who was still kissing her hands. “Keep him safe, Doctrine. He will need your protection more than ever.”

  “It’s usually the other way around,” the Doctrine grinned. He glanced quickly at Pileus. “And you will keep Pileus safe?” Ustrina nodded. “Thank you, Ustrina.” He yanked Titus up from the ground. “We don’t have a moment to lose. The effects of Mythia’s memory draining away can lead to terrible consequences. Gather your things.” Titus nodded, stole one last kiss from Ustrina, then ran off to collect supplies.

  ◆◆◆

  Sun filtered through the high, curved, stained-glass windows and landed softly upon the long dining table, making the golden goblets and plates sparkle with a blinding, white light. Pounds of eggs, sausages, stewed tomatoes, and buttered bread sat steaming in front of the royal court. King Tribus stared adoringly at his son, his emerald eyes missing the usual empty blackness they had carried over the last few weeks. Lord Ulric glared up from his food, watching the king eyeing his son.

  “It is nearly time for our annual jousting tournament,” King Tribus announced to those sitting nearest to him. Regulus looked up from his food in surprise.

  “Amongst all that is happening, you still wish to hold the traditional tournament, father?”

  Tribus sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Yes, I do. I believe that the kingdom could use a bit of fun and games now more than ever. Lighten the mood. Lift the spirits.”

  Ulric raised his eyebrows. “And would it be wise, sire, to engage so many knights at the same time, when there may be a battle on the rise?”

  “It will do the knights some good to let off steam with a bit of friendly competition. They’ve been working endlessly.” Tribus peered at his son. “Wouldn’t you agree, Regulus?”

  Regulus nearly choked on his sausage. He hadn’t seen his father act like this, as though he had any hope or happiness left inside of him, since that fateful night. Was it a trick? Or had his heart finally begun to heal? “Yes, sire, they have been dedicating their every effort and ounce of strength to their training and duties. I do agree they would relish in the idea of a tournament.” He smiled at the thought. Ulric sneered but remained quiet, clearly not in favor of such a trivial sport in such trying times.

  “Excellent. Then we must make the arrangements as soon as we have finished our breakfast. Inform your knights to take time off for practice. Have the royal courier draw up posters and deliver them throughout the kingdom. This is going to be the tournament of the century.” King Tribus raised his cup high.

  The prince grinned from ear to ear. It’s good to have you back, father.

  ◆◆◆

  “Bestia,” a whisper broke through the silent dark room, shaking Mythia awake. “Bestia, wake up! We shall be late if you sleep much longer!”

  Mythia blinked her eyes. A single torch casted light across the long room. Krea stood at her bed, her round blue eyes watching her with a smile. She was already dressed in uniform.

  “It can’t possibly be morning yet!” Mythia complained with a yawn. She stumbled out of bed, rubbing her eyes. The chainmail hanging on the wall was still heavy. Krea helped her pull it over her head without question, but Mythia was pleased to find she was already starting to fill in the gaps with newly formed muscle.

  “We start training at different hours.” Krea smirked. “It’s good practice for, what was it Eldrid had said? ‘Wake at different hours, for battle knows not time nor rest!’ Or something along those lines.”

  Mythia let out another great yawn as they exited the bedroom. A handful of sleepy recruits were pulling on their boots or sipping tea. Mythia meandered over to the closest white wooden, round table with food and tea and poured herself and Krea a cup. It was room temperature.

  “Better than nothing,” Krea sighed before taking another sip. Her eyes looked across the room, and grew wide as she dribbled tea all down her front. Mythia looked up to see Zane making his way over to them, red hair tousled, brown eyes bright.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he bowed down humorously before grabbing some tea and a bit of toast. “Ready for another day in hell?”

  “What do you suppose we will be doing today?” Mythia mused.

  Zane tapped his finger on his chin. “I think we shall start off the day by tossing whole pine trees across the Borealis Mountains, run full speed from Monoceros to Draconis to Fenniks within the next hour, then finish it off by collecting every blade of grass in all the forests of Terra. At least we’ll have our appetite built up for whatever ridiculously enormous portion of lunch awaits us in the dining cave.” Mythia nearly spit out her tea from laughing as Krea completely spilled her entire cup on her chainmail, snorting between giggles. Zane’s eyes brightened at their reaction.

  The recruits hurriedly finished up their light breakfast and marched quickly into the training cavern.

  Mythia felt a sense of excitement at the day ahead of her. Although still slightly sore from two days ago, her body felt ready for more. To be challenged, to be strong. But her mood instantly shifted when she saw Bello standing at the entrance of the cavern, hands on her hips, gray eyes alight with fury. She felt her heart drop down to her stomach like a heavy weight.

  Bello cocked her head to the side with pursed lips. “A word.” She turned swiftly around. Mythia threw one nervous glance at her fellow recruits before following Bello into the small side cave. Bello waited till the recruits had passed the entrance. “If you believe, Mythia, for even a second, that your title rises above mine while you eat and sleep beneath the roof we have built, the city I built, that we have welcomed you and your friends into so graciously, then you can forget about serving in the Rejicio army and march straight back to the castle of Trigonus where your fate awaits you.” Bello breathed in threw her nostrils. “You may be queen there, but you’ve relinquished your title by joining my army. Or have you forgotten that bit?”

  Mythia stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Queen? I’m not a queen, Bello.” Bello dropped her posture and blinked.

  “What are you saying, Mythia?”

  “My mother was from Fenniks…” She struggled to remember her mother, the yea
rs they spent living in solitude. Between then and now, there was nothing but flashes.

  Bello stroked back her straight brown and gray streaked hair. “Right. Of course. Forget that, just remember to seek permission before leaving the mountain next time.” Her voice softened. “Meet me here after training today. There are some more things I would like to teach you. You may go join your recruits now.” She smiled oddly at Mythia, who bowed herself awkwardly out of the room.

  She jogged across the cavern, passing hundreds of soldiers along the way, but she couldn’t find her crew. She reached the opposite wall where they usually gathered, and all that was left was one man- the bald surly guy she had seen but never spoke to. He wore his dark tunic and pants, muscles bulging from beneath. He was huge without his chainmail.

  “Where did everyone go?” she asked, uncertainly.

  The guy picked up his chainmail and shrugged it over his head so easily, Mythia felt a jab of jealousy. “Gone.” His voice was low and gruff.

  “Okay, but where did they go?” she asked again, slightly annoyed.

  “Eldrid didn’t want you to join today.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and glared down at her, his dark eyes penetrating.

  “Is that all he said?”

  “I’m to catch you up with the training you missed,” he huffed. Mythia waited expectantly, but he just stood there with his arms crossed.

  “So…” she kicked at the floor. “What’s your name?”

  “Tenax. Call me Ten.” He finally uncrossed his arms, holding out a large hand for her. She took it, feeling his calloused fingers squeeze her soft hand hard enough to cause pain. Wincing, she pulled away and rubbed her fingers. “Come.” He began walking to the back exit of the mountain. Mythia followed him out, into the dark early, early, morning. The moon and the stars were still alight.