Chapter 7 Regret
REGRET
“Close your eyes, Weryn, it will help you visualize where we need to go, where Legion is hiding,” Elgar said softly. “Your understanding of Legion and connection to this place will help me pierce Roan’s mind mask.”
The tall, spare figure dressed in ill-fitting clothes stepped in front of Weryn.
Unstyled hair flopped in front of Elgar’s silver eyes and hung untidily over his shoulders, yet Elgar had a pretty face.
Some would have called him “scholarly” or “diffident” with his gentle movements and downcast eyes.
But there was a core of steel in him. Weryn could sense this.
So he found himself obeying and shutting his eyes.
“Now empty your mind,” Elgar requested.
But this request was not so easy to comply with.
Weryn found that was clenching his jaw and his mind was full.
The anger he felt roiled within him like volcanic magma.
Legion had to be destroyed! Roan/Kaly needed to be literally sliced into pieces so thin that one could see through them!
And whoever was with them would die memorable Second Deaths so that no one would ever forget that to be his enemy–Daemon’s enemy–was a dreadful mistake!
If I do this then Daemon will forgive me, a small voice said in his head that sounded like his own. I can finally, truly go home. The War will be over.
For a moment, his whole psyche quivered. It was almost as if those thoughts were stones that had been tossed into a still, mirror-like pond. The ripples distorted the perfect reflection and showed him that it was a reflection, not reality. Was he a reflection? A dark one? What was real?
And as those ripples flowed outwards, he heard a voice that was like the one he spoke with now, which bubbled up inside of him, Daemon’s already forgiven me. He told me. Me and Grayson.
Daemon is asleep!
He’s not. Julian–his promised fledgling–came and woke him. I helped Julian shift for the first time. He was so sweet and eager. Strong and smart. Exactly what he should be. Daemon is in his palace. You can hear his voice if you just listen, that second voice insisted.
That’s impossible!
Why?
A simple question. It should have a simple answer. Facts. Clear and pure and devoid of self-interest. But that was not what came out of him.
He cannot yet be awake! I am not done! I have not redeemed myself! Again, this was said in his old voice.
A sigh. He understands. He blames himself for not being there. Whatever I did in the War was done out of rage and grief. I was not myself. I must make up for what I’ve done if I can. But hiding from reality is not going to fix anything.
No! Daemon’s sleeps! I have time to fix all of this!
Daemon’s awake and aware. He knows it all.
I could not hide what I’ve done from him even if I wanted to, the first voice said sadly.
I’ve only hidden it from myself and that has led to this fracturing of my psyche.
And that led to me hurting Grayson. Demos is angry and worried, too.
Siban is beside themself. I must stop this.
You lie! Everything you say is a lie!
I’m not lying. I just want to escape what I’ve done now that I can remember it.
Some of it anyways. Legion is a symbol for all my failures during the War, the first voice continued implacably.
Knowing how I died, how Legion used my own rage against me, and realizing that they are behind this current threat to Daemon was too much for me. I wanted to retreat from the truth.
Shut up!
I’m you, Weryn. You’re me. Not some separate voice in your head. Not a different person or a second soul. There is no one else, but me here. I’m called Ryder now–
SHUT UP!
Weryn’s eyelids flew open. Elgar’s face was nearest to his. The Eyros Vampire’s brow was furrowed. His right hand was resting against the hollow of Weryn’s throat. One look into those incisive silver eyes told Weryn that Elgar had heard everything. Everything!
I dare you to comment on what you heard in my head, Eyros, he growled.
Elgar met his gaze steadily, saying nothing outwardly or through their mental contact, but it was Weryn who looked away first. He could have snapped this twig of a Vampire in two with one hand!
Elgar was old, but frail. Some illness had afflicted him.
Some terrible deprivation. He was not a threat at all. But he had heard.
He saw Demos over Elgar’s shoulder. He was not a twig, but well-built. He was fast, too from what Weryn could tell. Used to fighting as well. No stranger to going toe to toe with Vampires older and stronger than him.
But I am an Immortal. He is no match for me.
I’m not myself right now. Maybe it would be better if Demos laid me out, Ryder said.
I told you to–
Then get it together! Ryder snapped, which had Weryn standing up at attention. I want this part of myself in charge? Fine! Then act like someone in charge!
He wasn’t acting like he was in charge. He felt distinctly out of control. That was how the latter part of the War had gone. He had been slipping. Sometimes he hadn’t known what was real and what was a fever dream. Was that the case here? Was he slipping?
“I–I need a moment to calm myself,” Weryn gritted out.
“Take your time,” Elgar’s voice held no censure, no tone at all really.
Demos’ eyes narrowed. Sana jittered about, unable to stay still.
She paced around the top of the rise, wanting to move, to get them to their targets.
But until he got his act together, she could take them nowhere.
Weryn unclenched his jaw. He took a deep breath.
Then he closed his eyes again. This time his mind was quiet.
He saw only blackness behind his eyelids.
“I am ready,” he said.
“Then let us begin,” Elgar said.
At first, there was no change. But then the darkness he was seeing behind his eyelids began to lighten.
It was as if he was seeing the golden light cast from a fire or torches through his eyelashes.
The light grew brighter as if he were getting closer and closer to it.
An image resolved out of the dark even though his eyelids remained shut.
I know where I am!
He was on the Hunter’s Path. Or rather, he was floating above it as if he was in one of his bird forms.
You have connected to one of the creatures here, Elgar said, a note of wonder in his voice. I thought only Daemon could do this!
No, he is the Ever Dark. But I can connect to him. And through him, I am everywhere. I am everything. These creatures are my eyes and ears. They are my claws and fangs. They are my wings and feet. They are me, Weryn said.
You are indeed great, Weryn, Elgar said quietly.
Better than making people into marionettes? Weryn chuckled.
No. Just different, Elgar answered.
An honest answer! But let me show you more of what I can do. Be one with this world, Elgar, and every creature in it, Weryn murmured.
He looked down at the Hunter’s Path. Black feathers appeared in the edges of his vision. A bird. A raven. He felt the wind beneath his wings. He heard the cheep insects. The growl of predators in the underbrush nearby. The whistle of wind as it glided above and below him.
I didn’t know I could do that. No, no, I did know, I just forgot, the voice–Ryder–said with shock and awe. I can connect to every animal. Not just my forms. But every single animal…
Of course! How can you claim to be me when you do not know this simple fact about yourself? Weryn scoffed.
You’d be surprised what you forget when you’re desperate to pretend you’re someone else, Ryder murmured. But this is truly a loss. Such a loss. I want to remember more. But what will be the cost?
That you would talk less? Weryn grunted. I would never wish to be anyone else!
And yet here I am again, pretending we’re not the same person, Ryder sighed.
This is just more of the same. But instead of my memories of being Ryder on top, I have cobbled together some from my past. But not all of them.
Just the desperate ones. The ones that want to flee from what I’ve done and avoid punishment.
I would never–
Let’s just look around, okay? Arguing won’t change anything right now, Ryder directed. Despite everything, I’m still not ready. Will I be in time?
Weryn thought of telling him that he would argue if he wished! But this peevishness was not usual for him. Or it had not been. The War had made him short-tempered like a bear with a wounded paw. But he had not allowed himself to be directed off course by it before.
Except…
Maybe…
A few times…
A few…
Like when Legion had led him into that trap.
He centered himself and looked around them.
The Hunter’s Path was a broad stone hallway that led to his throne room.
Ever Glow torches on tall holders framed the path.
Stone statues of creatures slain by him throughout the millennia.
They represented the greatest hunts he had ever completed.
The likeness of his prey had been carved into stone statues that soared to the ceiling on either side of the gallery hallway.
The Hunter’s Path was exactly as he remembered it.
Well, except that it was mostly empty. This used to be the place where the strongest of his Bloodline gathered to tell tales to the newest. Tales of bravery and battles hard won.
Their rapt audience would follow these elder Weryns’ every word to glean some small beads of wisdom for the next fight.
How to sneak up behind a ravenous Mettung with their razor-sharp claws.
Or the best way to land a killing blow on the gelatinous Sirvir who could slip through even a crack if given enough time.
Or where the Neyfrunn with their pelts of silvery black could be found and how to skin them in one stroke.