Two Worlds of Redemption Read online

  A yelp caught his attention. It came from the direction Seri had headed. Instinctively, Jemin turned to the side and followed the sound. He snuck through the underbrush, clutching his cloak with one hand so it didn’t get caught in the trees, and as he peeked through the branches of a fir, he saw it, a white coat, white as snow, and in the face, set into a grey frame, two eyes as red as blood. Jemin froze. The Yutu hadn’t noticed him, or if it had, it didn’t show any sign of it, but on the ground lay Seri in her Yutu form, ebony fur ruffled from the wind and struggling to get back onto her feet. The white Yutu hovered over her, baring its teeth as it crouched to attack.

  Jemin tightened his grip on the sword before he stepped out of the trees. “Here,” he yelled. “If you want a fight, come and get me.”

  At his call, Seri’s head slumped back into the snow, but her eyes gave him a clear ‘thank you’. Jemin didn’t have the time to check for blood before he turned on his heels and sprinted in the direction where the fewest branches were blocking his path. Behind him, the Yutu’s paws hammered into the snow. Where was Neelis? Hadn’t he heard Seri’s yelp? Or Jemin’s call?

  Jemin’s head start was enough to get out of the dense part of the forest and closer toward the lake. In the open, he might have more space for a dance with the Yutu—especially since this wasn’t a normal one, he needed time to figure out tactics to defeat the beast.

  The growls behind him let him know he wasn’t going to be able to prevent himself from facing the shifter much longer or wait for Neelis’ aid. He would need to do it alone.

  Ahead, the trees thinned, and the lake came into view. It was frozen, a powdery layer of snow covering the surface. Jemin’s mind was going through various scenarios. He wouldn’t be able to capture the beast alive if he was alone. It was more a one chance situation, and that shot would be to kill. Jemin screened the shore for signs the ice was strong enough to carry him, and as he got close enough to actually see the crystal in between the windblown dunes of powder-snow, he found it was thick enough. It would give him the advantage he needed. As a guard of dimensions, he was trained to fight on ice. The Yutu would have a disadvantage with its claws and slithering across the surface.

  He glanced over his shoulders and saw that the beast was closing in. It was still far away enough to take a couple of steps onto the ice before he turned, and to his satisfaction, he saw that the Yutu had followed him onto the slippery surface.

  The eyes of the monster shone in an eerie crimson shade that reflected in the ice below its paws.

  With a quick hand, Jemin pulled his sword in front of his chest and lowered his center of gravity the way he had done a million times in fights. But this time was different. The Yutu baring its teeth at him from a couple of feet away was not an ordinary beast. It was a shifter, the way Langley had been, or the way Seri and Neelis were. That meant there was the monstrous strength paired with the intelligence of a human being and, if he was unlucky, that of a skilled fighter.

  The Yutu growled icily, the sound making its silver fur resemble shiny frost rather than the woolen coat it actually was. It swayed from side to side as it displayed its readiness to attack, but the paws didn’t make the expected noise on the ice as it launched itself at Jemin. The leap surprised Jemin with absolute silence, and by the time he lifted his sword at the red-eyed Yutu, it had landed on top of him.

  Jemin bit back a scream as his back hit the ice and it cracked suspiciously on the lake. He rammed his elbow into the Yutu’s nose and rolled over to the satisfying sound of a yelp. He had fought hundreds of Yutu. This one, no matter how intelligent or strong, wasn’t going to defeat him—with or without Neelis’ and Seri’s help. With a kick of his knee, he sent the beast sliding over the ice a couple of feet, its claws leaving streaks on the smooth surface.

  As he pushed himself upright, sword in one hand and grabbing for a knife from his boot with the other one, the Yutu had struggled back onto its feet and was crouching to spring again.

  Jemin pushed himself off the frozen lake and flipped over the snapping Yutu, forcing his sword to bite into the beast’s back as he crossed over it. He landed on both his feet, facing the shore and the Yutu, which was now in between him and the rocks and bare trees.

  “Bring it on, whoever you are,” Jemin yelled, watching the ice under the Yutu turn as red as its eyes as blood trickled down its side. He was in the best shape he’d ever been, armored not only in Thaotine but in the impenetrable layer of love for Allinan, and its heart—Maray. But as his voice was swept away by the sharp wind, he felt smaller than he’d felt in years. The ice cracked again, right where he stood, and he staggered back as he noticed a thin white line running from his toes to the paws of the Yutu. The line followed him, forcing him further away from the shore, and as his eyes screened the surface for a safe path back onto solid ground, he could swear he heard the Yutu chuckle.

  His eyes snapped back to lock on the Yutu’s fierce, crimson glare, and he saw it there, as the shape blurred from Yutu to human and back to Yutu, that this was, indeed, not an ordinary beast. This was a familiar face—a face he knew from paintings and drawings.

  “This is impossible,” he muttered as the transforming Yutu reached out one hand to set free a tiny flame that it directed right at Jemin. “You are dead.”

  Jemin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The white hair of an old man on a young, boyish face. He was handsome except for the crimson eyes, full of rage and bitterness. But Jemin didn’t get a second look before he noticed that the flame wasn’t attacking him, but the ice beneath his feet. His opponent wasn’t trying to rip him apart with his claws or burn him with magic. He was going for something much worse—he was going to open the frozen lake and drown Jemin in the icy water.

  Everything happened so fast he couldn’t tell any longer whether he was falling victim to a smartly-placed illusion or if he was truly facing the legendary grand-master of all magic: Gan Krai.

  The flame touched the ice, and a deafening crack shattered his focus. Then, the ground under his feet became unstable. Instinctively, Jemin stepped aside, away from the opening surface, but with every step he took, the ice disintegrated faster. With every inch he moved, the life-saving shore looked more distant, unreachable. And with every moment, his boots grew wetter.

  Jemin strained his mind for solutions. Unstable ice holds longer if you distribute the weight. He dropped down onto all fours, ignoring the stinging cold on his hands and knees as he dipped his hands into the rising water, and inched sideways in the direction of the shore, even if the blurring shape of back-and-forth-transforming Yutu-Gan-Krai would be blocking his path. He’d rather fight ten of them than die drowning in icy water.

  Jemin tightened his grip on his sword and knife as he moved. He’d let them freeze to his numb fingers a hundred times if that meant he would still be armed when he made it to the monster. He didn’t care about the pain in his kneecaps as they scraped over the ice, for the pain of the cold itself covered everything else. He made progress under the crimson stare of the Yutu-shifter and reached a more stable terrain. For a moment, it seemed the ice was solid enough to get back upright and launch himself across the white trap. But just when he was about to scramble to his feet, another flame touched down before his hands. Jemin didn’t suppress the curse on the tip of his tongue and rolled to his side just in time, as the ice melted where his palms had been sitting a second ago.

  With longing eyes, Jemin glanced at the rocks. If Corey had been here right now, she would have given the warlock hell. But he was alone. He was losing this fight—not even a fight, but a dreadful game that the other side was winning.

  Thaotine was a great fabric, silken to the touch, sturdy and almost impenetrable for weapons, but there was one thing it wasn’t—waterproof. Especially not when the icy trickle started down Jemin’s neck, and he noticed how his entire system was on red alert. His cloak was already soaked and heavy as he rolled further away from the crumbling parts of the ice-cover.

  He
sucked in breath after breath, fighting the urge to jump to his feet and run. Instead, he slithered forward on his abdomen and thought of bright fires that could warm him—fires such as Maray’s magic flame-domes. As he made it another couple of feet—he wasn’t exactly sure if he was even crawling in the right direction—the frozen canvas beneath him gave way, and his body went into shock as he was forcefully hugged by the glacial waters of the lake. He couldn’t even tell if he was screaming or if his voice had iced up in his throat.

  Jemin’s hands reached for something solid to hold on to, but all they found was a cluster of shards of broken ice. His cloak and boots were pulling him down into the depths of the lake, and his head was just enough above the surface to gasp for air a couple more times before his body would either freeze, or he’d have to give in from exhaustion. Why again had he come here? It was beginning to slip his mind. All he could see was Maray’s eyes as they disregarded him for leaving her behind. Was he leaving her behind?

  His struggles to keep himself over water peaked one last time as he imagined that everything had been in vain. That he couldn’t fulfill his duty as a soldier, or as a guard, or loving the one person who had been capable of unlocking his heart. Then, his muscles cramped, and he could feel how his strength left him, and despite his will to stay over water, he felt himself falling deeper, his face dipping into the icy cold, but he no longer noticed. His mind was becoming a fuzzy place where Maray was a lovely memory alongside Heck, Corey, his mother and father, and the image of immortal Rhia’s portrait.

  He tore his eyes open, almost inhaling a gulp of water as he noticed in horror that he was floating beneath the frozen surface of the lake. There was a soft current pulling him away from the hole where the ice, manipulated by the warlock’s flames, had given way to Jemin’s weight. Jemin forced his legs to push upwards and could have given a cry of gratitude as his feet hit solid ground and he pushed himself back toward the opening and the life-giving oxygen. He couldn’t be too far from the shore since the water was just deep enough for him to connect his fingertips to the surface when he stood up straight—at least, that was what it looked like to him—the blurring vision of a drowning, freezing man. He wanted to reach through the fractured ice and pull himself up, but all of his reserves had been depleted. He couldn’t. No matter how much he was aching for a deep breath…

  A dull pain in his shoulder told him he was still conscious. This wasn’t the cold or the water hurting; it was something else, something with claws—

  This time, Jemin did inhale the glacial liquid that was trying to hold him captive to the effect of a stinging pain in his chest. He coughed, and surprisingly, his aching lungs breathed air—freezing air. He spat and tried to move, but his numb limbs wouldn’t answer to his head.

  “He is bleeding badly,” a girl said… Seri maybe… Jemin could hardly hear her above the noise of his own coughing and gasping.

  “That won’t be an issue if he freezes first.” Neelis’ deep and clear voice was the first signal that he hadn’t been fished out of the lake by the red-eyed monster.

  “Where is he?” Jemin thought he was asking, but he couldn’t feel his lips or any other part of his body besides the pain in his chest, and the cramping of his limbs.

  “We need to get him out of the wet clothes.”

  Hands were already tearing at Jemin, and to his displeasure, the icy wind hit his freezing skin. He felt himself shaking violently, the only response his body seemed to have left. And his eyes wanted to see, but he couldn’t focus on anything. All he saw were white, dancing crystals of snow as they ceased to melt on his bare arms and chest.

  “Jemin,” Neelis addressed him. “We’ve got you. You’re safe. Hold on.”

  “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Jemin,” Seri threatened from somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t do her that favor. He was losing focus, and he closed his eyes.

  A smack in his face was the next thing he knew, and the shivering and teeth-chattering continued.

  “There you go.” Seri’s face appeared right above him, decorated with a familiar gloat. “It always works.”

  If it hadn’t been for the priority of not freezing, he would have laughed at her, but all he managed was a groan.

  “We’ll have you someplace warm in a minute.” Jemin now noticed that he was wearing a coat. Neelis’ coat, which kept out the worst of the wind but was too short to cover all of his shaking body—shaking not just from the cold but from the rhythmical steps of Neelis as he carried him out of the forest and down the road to the settlement. “Only a minute, and we’re there.”

  Jemin wanted to ask where ‘there’ was, but they were there before he could get out a stable word.

  “Put him down at the fireplace,” Seri instructed, and Neelis kept moving despite the curious murmur in the background. “Oh, shut up, people,” she added. “He fell into the lake.”

  The background noise changed to the sounds of concern, and some asked if they needed assistance. As Neelis laid him down into a soft chair, heat hit his skin from one side, and the pain of the cold was replaced by the stinging of warmth on his frozen body.

  Someone grabbed his hands and lowered them into a bucket of warm water while Seri pulled on the fabric that was covering him.

  “Shall we really take off the cloak?” that same person asked with a worried tone. “Is he wearing anything else underneath?”

  Seri pushed herself further toward Jemin and the eccentrically-clothed lady who had brought the bucket.

  Jemin flinched as he moved, hoping to get his hands on the cloak before anyone could pull it away.

  “I don’t care if he’s buck naked if that means he gets to keep all his body parts,” Seri clarified. “And by all his body parts, I really mean all of them.” There was a moment of awkward silence between them. “Besides, we need to check if that wound has sealed yet.”

  Jemin noticed that he couldn’t feel any pain in his shoulder, and when he glanced down to check on the cloak, he didn’t spot wet areas where the wound was supposed to be. His bracelet must have still been in place. It was only a matter of time until he’d recover from the freezing water, now that he was out of the cold.

  The lady shuffled away, taken aback by Seri’s aggressive tone and maybe the meaning of her words, but returned after a moment with something better than words—a warm, fur blanket. She held it up with a meaningful look as she waited for Seri to pull aside the cloak and check on Jemin’s shoulder, and when Seri dropped the fabric with a satisfied nod, the woman wrapped the blanket around him and tucked it in at his ears.

  “Thank you,” Jemin croaked, and the lady gave him an appreciative look.

  “Now, how would you feel about some hot soup?” She wiped her hands on a brown apron and turned around before Jemin could respond.

  As the pain ceased in what seemed like hours rather than minutes, Jemin started to see his environment. There was a large hearth fire crackling right beside his worn, velvet armchair. He snuggled deeper into the blanket and turned his head. A bunch of men with mugs were smiling at him with pity. They had to be in a coffee house. This wasn’t like the elaborate coffee houses in the capital, though, but a rustic, wooden interior with the smell of smoke and more than just tea or coffee in the beverages they served.

  “Hang in there,” one of them called over the background noise. “You’re not the first one we’re roasting after a plunge into the lake.”

  The men raised their mugs and cheered. “To the third of this winter’s plungers,” one of them toasted. “May this one live.”

  Jemin sank back into his chair and waited, studying the carved boards on the wall above the fireplace. His clothes had been laid out to dry on the floor in front of the fire. He didn’t remember this place from his childhood trips. It didn’t look like somewhere a noble would come for a coffee, but more like a tavern for commoners. The customers in this place would probably not even have heard of the new Princess. While news regarding the Cornay family spread like a wildfire i
n the capital, the rest of Allinan was slow to follow most of the time. Jemin cocked his head to look for Rhia’s iconic portrait somewhere on the walls and found Neelis sitting on a wooden chair a couple of feet away, eying him with a concerned gaze.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Jemin said and got a wry smile from Neelis, followed by a long silence. “Do you come here often?” Jemin asked just so he’d have something to say.

  This time, Neelis responded, “Occasionally,” and checked Jemin’s feet for temperature. “Much better.” He fashioned a grin, which didn’t exactly make him look happy—quite the opposite. He leaned forward and clenched his hands in his lap. “You never lose a fight, Jemin. What happened out there?”

  It wasn’t true. He had lost fights, plenty of them. But never when it counted. This time had been life or death, and thanks to Neelis, he was alive.

  “The shifter is a warlock,” Jemin whispered and checked over the backrest of his chair, but no one was paying attention any longer now that he seemed to be well enough to speak and sit up.

  Neelis’ eyes widened, and Seri stepped closer to sit on Jemin’s armrest.

  “And not just any warlock.”

  “Feris?” Neelis guessed, and anger was already rising on his face as his slit eyes tightened even more.

  “I wish,” Jemin said in disappointment. “If I didn’t hallucinate from stress and cold, seeing what I saw means that Rhia isn’t the only immortal.”

  Now, both Seri and Neelis looked intrigued despite the horror Jemin’s statement meant.

  “Gan Krai.”

  For a second, Jemin thought that both of the shifters were going to laugh at him, but they remained silent, staring at him expectantly.

  “I saw Gan Krai,” Jemin repeated. “At least, the guy looked a lot like the paintings and drawings we know from his books and the galleries.”