Chapter 22 Draugr
Draugr
The next morning, Elizabeth hummed a little tune as she plaited her hair.
Her thoughts drifted to Caspian—he was a walking contradiction. She still wasn’t sure if she liked him or outright despised him.
She thought of last night, remembering him staring at her while demanding earth-shattering pleasure from the far reaches of her body and soul. Remembering him tucking her into bed like she was something precious and kissing her forehead.
She shook her head.
Her other lover had been … different. Though unwise to compare, her only other lover had never cared if she came. She often hadn’t. She had never even known her body was capable of finishing multiple times in the same evening.
The gods had a cruel sense of humour, it seemed, to make a male that good in bed, but make him so wicked and rotten on the inside.
She recalled the way he had murmured words—she recognized that he had been speaking in the ancient language—and the candles had burst to life, and the orb had started whirring. She wondered if she had the skill to do the same, utter a word, and have candles burst to life like that.
After glancing to make sure the door was bolted shut and Fiza wasn’t present, she took out a small stone from her pocket.
She held the stone aloft and whispered, “Váless.”
Nothing happened.
She sighed.
She had been sure that magic was the answer to the angel’s riddle.
She repeated the word three more times. But the stone didn’t so much as quiver in her hand.
A stupid rock, and a stupid spell.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Perfect. She was in her bedchamber spouting nonsense at the advice of a madwoman.
Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she donned her cloak and went to the stables.
Experimenting with her new abilities, she reached out with her mind towards the horses.
At first, she was nervous, but it turned out to be relatively easy to extend her consciousness beyond herself.
Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing and on the things she could sense near her.
The sound of a tail swishing, the sound of one of the horses chomping on hay.
After a few minutes of focusing on her breathing and extending her awareness beyond herself, she was surprised to discover she could see the horses with her eyes closed. She could sense three auras around her.
Opening her eyes, she looked around. Icefire and Buttercup both had soft yellow auras, while Draugr, who snorted in the corner, had a churning black aura.
Extending her consciousness outwards, she brushed up against Buttercup’s aura.
And she was—Elizabeth didn’t know how else to describe it—aware.
A swirling vortex of thoughts and images.
She tried to project feelings of friendship and care towards Buttercup, reassuring the mare she meant no harm.
Almost immediately, the horse calmed in her presence, her ears perking forward.
Buttercup blinked at her as she stroked the horse’s velvety nose. The horse’s mind was a tumble of images: an apple, a bale of hay, a wide-open field.
She did the same with Icefire, reaching out to sense the gelding’s thoughts.
An image of a carrot came to her mind, and she grinned. “Yes, for bearing with my pitiful attempts to communicate this way, I’ll make sure you all get carrots soon.”
Finally, she approached the dark aura in the corner. She brushed down Draugr and extended her awareness. The stallion’s mind was a swirling vortex of darkness and rage, yet it felt highly organized—not unlike the minds of the demons in the castle.
But—that didn’t make sense.
He couldn’t be a demon, he was a horse.
She brushed Draugr and mulled it over. Perhaps his mind did not feel the same as the other horses because he wasn’t one of them. A demon. It sounded crazy, but once she thought of it, she was convinced she was right.
She led Draugr out of the stables and thought about what she knew of him. He rebelled every time she told him to do something. Any time she tried to assert dominance of any kind over him, he looked inclined to buck her off.
Abruptly changing directions, Elizabeth walked Draugr away from the paddock and down her favourite trail, hoping a new strategy would work. Leading him by the reins, Draugr plodded along beside her, his dark mane bouncing with the vigor of his stride.
She led him to the wide-open fields beneath the mountains—the place where her heart felt the freest when she rode. A crisp breeze rolled in, and the view was spectacular with only a few clouds in the sky.
Elizabeth dismounted and moved to stand in front of Draugr, looking him in the eyes.
“I see you,” she said softly.
Draugr blinked, and she maintained eye contact, refusing to look away. She placed both hands on his muzzle. “I know what you are, and I am not afraid.”
Draugr blew hot air in her face and snorted.
“I see the fire in your heart,” she said, not caring if she looked ridiculous speaking to a horse. “And I am not afraid.”
She put one leg in the stirrup and swung the other over his back. Instead of digging her heels into his sides and demanding he heed her orders, she lifted her behind in the air and put her weight on the stirrups, mentally preparing herself to not fall off.
Leaning over his mane, she brushed against his consciousness and projected a mental image of them running across the field. She thought of the wind in her face, the sun on her back, and the feeling of racing through the field.
All she said was, “Run.” Her voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper.
She did not dig her heels into his sides. She did not give him a command of any kind, but rather, permission to run as wild as he pleased.
Draugr took his first few steps tentatively, then took off like an arrow. They thundered down the plains, his body a rolling avalanche beneath her.
They raced across the plain faster than she had ever ridden before, the wind rushing into her face so hard it almost threw her off balance. They made it to the end of the plain, nearing the forest’s edge, when she gently, ever so gently, tugged the reins, and he slowed obediently.
She whooped, raising her fist to the skies in victory, even if there was no one but the clouds as her witness.
Draugr reared, but less to throw her off and more in a playful way, his hooves only leaving the ground by a couple of feet. As he stomped down, he swished his ears back and forth, as if waiting for further instruction.
They circled the plain, and when she rose in the stirrups again, he needed no further encouragement before breaking into a gallop, racing full tilt across the field.
Exhilarated, she leaned over his mane, grinning widely.
They raced three times across the field before Draugr snorted and turned, kidnapping her to circle the entire valley at a breakneck pace. She bent low over the saddle and held on as the spirited horse raced faster than the wind.
They galloped until Draugr’s sides were streaked with sweat, and he finally slowed of his own volition.
“Finished?” she asked, grinning widely.
Draugr blew air out his nose, which she took as a yes, and turned him back towards the castle.
Dismounting, she stroked his nose.
As she reached up to take off his bridle, he bowed his head to her.
Feeling rather touched, her eyes grew bright.
As she left the stable, she thought of what had been different today. Draugr didn’t want to be coddled or led with a gentle lady’s hand. No, Draugr was a force unto himself, and wanted to run as fast as his wild heart desired. Because, somehow, Draugr was a demon.
***
The days passed in a similar fashion.
In the mornings, she would race Draugr. He never threw her from the saddle anymore, and his trot became smooth as butter, hardly jostling her.
Occasionally, when she finished brushing him down, Draugr would butt her hand affectionately.
She was filled with pride whenever she thought of the angry and skittish creature he had been.
Sometimes she would hike to the mountain lake, looking for the angel, but he was nowhere to be found.
One day, she found herself slipping into Caspian’s thoughts and saw something so horrifying that it curbed her desire to learn anything more about slipping into people’s minds and made her long for a way to stop it from happening.
She had settled to read in the sitting room, and Caspian decided to join her.
His scent of musk and fire wafted through the room, heady and intoxicating. Her stomach twisted into guilty knots; she was so attracted to him that even his smell had her inhaling deeply and growing warm all over.
He sat quietly across from her as she enjoyed her book. But when his eyes drifted up from the letter he was reading, she caught herself staring at his angular features. He looked lost in thought. As if he sensed her watching, his gaze snapped to hers, and an image came unbidden to her mind.
A sword point rested at a woman’s neck. She was bloodied and battered, kneeling in the snow. Dark kohl lined her eyes, and a pale crystal pendant hung from a leather cord around her throat. Her fingers were filthy.
She was about to be executed.
The woman looked up, and her brown eyes caught the light.
Her gaze held nothing but hatred. She made the sign against evil across her chest and lifted her chin in defiance.
She refused to close her eyes, staring unnervingly, as if she was trying to damn and curse the person she looked at for all eternity with no weapon but the wrath in her eyes.
“What you fear will come to pass. The one who is promised comes.” Her voice was low and gravelly. “And when she does, I hope she kills every last one of you.”
The sword behind the woman swung, and the vision went black. Elizabeth came back to herself with a gasp.
Was that a memory?
Her eyes darted to Caspian, who was now engrossed in his letter. She hoped he was truly lost in thought and hadn’t noticed her slipping into his mind.
A chill skittered down her spine. She felt a rush of sympathy for the nameless woman in the snow and a fresh wave of revulsion for the demon sitting before her. He had watched a woman’s execution and hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it.