She studied the river. Wide. Dark. A chill hung in the air. She hadn’t been standing there long when a skiff glided toward the bank. An old man stood within it, guiding it with a pole. He was rough and weathered, with a wild gray beard. His blazing eyes settled on her. Recognition flashed in them.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” she asked.
“No. That was me brother.”
You don’t belong here. The words echoed through her mind in his voice.
She stepped toward the skiff. The old man held up a hand. She stopped. “You must pay the price,” he said. “Something dear.”
Something dear? She didn’t even know who she was. How was she supposed to know what she held dear? She had few options. She removed the fang from her belt and offered it to him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just continued to stare.
Her sword? The old man shook his head.
Her daggers. She drew one and studied it. Nothing. No memories. She placed it in his hands. The loss struck her immediately. Yet he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just continued that unsettling stare.
“Both,” he said.
She drew the second dagger. Turning it over in her fingers, she studied the ivory-wrapped hilt. She didn’t want to give it to him.
“Why?”
The old man didn’t answer. He simply waited. Without a hint of impatience.
Her heart sank when she finally surrendered it. The old man accepted the dagger with a solemn nod. He tucked both daggers into the folds of his robes. Then he withdrew a golden coin. A skull had been stamped on its face. He pressed it into her palm.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“Return.”
She stepped into the skiff. The old man pushed away from the bank without waiting for anyone else.
“What is this place?”
“Why am I here?”
“Do you know?”
He continued dipping his pole into the dark water. Silence. Slowly. Surely. They crossed the river. At the far bank, he stood quietly waiting for her to disembark.
She caught hold of his robe.
“Say something,” she demanded. “Anything.”
He looked down at her hand. Then back at her. Neither of them moved. Fine. She could wait in silence too.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Past the hungry. Past them as’ve quit caring. Across the ice.” He nodded into the darkness. “There’s a captive waiting by the stair.”
“Who is he?”
“Couldn’t say.”
Couldn’t say, or wouldn’t say? She stepped from the skiff onto the desolate shore.
“Set him free when you find him.” He pushed the skiff from the shore.
“Why?”
“Because he’s your redemption.”
“What’s that mean?”
The old man drew his robe tighter around himself.
“If I knew that,” he said. “I’d be somewhere warmer.”
–
The land beyond the river was desolate. No trees. No grass. No moss. Cold air bit at her skin. Colder than the far bank. Scattered flames flickered across the landscape, giving off no warmth. The air reeked. Rotting flesh. Decay. And worse odors she couldn’t name.
She stumbled into something and recoiled. A figure sat on the bare ground. It was eating its own arm. Man or woman? She couldn’t tell.
Ahead, a corpse lay on the ground. Another figure crouched beside it, tearing at the corpse’s stomach, ripping out intestines and devouring them. She watched in horror. It began to choke. Then retch. Then slump to the ground.
The other body sprang up, devouring the vomit greedily. Then it turned on the one who had been feeding on it and began to eat.
She quickened her pace. What a terribly gruesome place this was. She tried to remember why she was here. There had to be a reason. A very good reason. Past the hungry.
Bodies surrounded her. Eating. Being eaten. Vomiting. Eating it back up. One relieved himself. And then… She hastily turned away. This she could not watch.
One of them noticed her. It rose and began to follow. Then another. And another.
Her hands darted to her sleeves. Nothing. Her breath caught. Then she remembered the sword. She drew it just as one of the creatures lunged. She swung. Awkwardly. The blade still brought it down.
The others fell upon it at once, feasting. She broke into a run. She didn’t dare look back until they were far behind her.
–
Bodies lay upon the frozen ground. Here and there, a faint moan drifted through the gloom. Past them that quit caring. She was going the right way.
She wasn’t quite as good with the sword as she’d expected. She studied the fragments of memory she had of herself. Flashes of whips. And wings. And teeth. A dragon’s head.
Perhaps she had been better with the daggers she’d given the old man. Well. She would never know now. Perhaps the dragon had taken more than her memories. Perhaps it had taken her skill as well. Given time, she might recover both.
One of the sleepers lifted a hand feebly toward her. She knelt beside him. His lips moved. She leaned closer.
“I want to leave,” he whispered.
A golden coin lay beside him. Return. That’s what the old man had said. Charon. The name surfaced without warning. She stooped, picked up the coin, and pressed it into the man’s hand. Then she folded his fingers around it. She pointed back the way she had come.
“Give it to the ferryman. He’ll take you back.” She hesitated. “And then…” And then what? She didn’t know.
“It’s pointless,” he groaned, letting the coin slip from his grasp. He closed his eyes and slumped back onto the ground in slumber.
Sleepers lay scattered before her. Beside each rested a golden coin. Never far from reach. Discarded. Abandoned. Somehow this seemed even worse than before. But at least they weren’t trying to eat her.
–
When she stepped past the last sleeper, a lake stretched before her, vast and frozen. Her teeth chattered in the bitter cold. If only she had a cloak. A gray cloak. The thought surfaced from somewhere deep within her. No memory accompanied it. Yet the image made her feel warm.
Maybe the man ahead would have answers. Her redemption? She scoffed. She didn’t need redemption. Still, he might help her remember.
A shadow lay beneath the ice. A body? She continued on. Then another shape emerged below the surface. Definitely a body. Frozen solid beneath the ice. At least these wretches had an excuse for not moving.
Far ahead, stairs rose upward into the darkness, seeming to climb without end. A shaft of golden light pierced the gloom, spilling down upon her. She slowed. It was the first time she could remember seeing light since… Ever.
A man was shackled to the wall. He didn’t notice her. Make a good impression, Vee. She lifted her chin and strode forward confidently. Vee?
She approached. He looked up. Their eyes met. Her heart skipped. He was strong. Handsome. And those eyes… She found herself staring. Stop acting like a schoolgirl. The reprimand came unbidden. Her sisters would never let her live this down. Sisters?
He gasped. Tears began to roll down his face. Why was he crying? He had to know she was there to rescue him. Unless. She had severely miscalculated how attractive she was.
“Eva,” he whispered. “Oh Eva. Tell me what they’ve done.”
Eva. Memories flooded her. Fragments. Nothing matched. Nothing made sense. But the name fit. Eva. Eva the…
“Brave!” she exclaimed. A glamorous woman had called her that. She held up the fang for him to see. He was safe now. She would take care of him.
“Eva the Dragon-Slayer!” she declared, her heart swelling with pride.
–
Thunder rolled behind her. She turned. A chimera stood before her. Lion’s face. Wings. Scales. She hoped her fighting skills came back better than her memories had.
She dropped into a fighting stance, leveling the sword toward it. The chimera stepped forward and casually swatted the weapon from her grasp. Her stomach sank. She backed away slowly. That’s when she saw it. The source of the thunder.
It towered above her. Above the chimera. A crimson dragon. Its head rose nearly to the heights of the cavern. Vast wings stretched across the frozen lake. Wicked claws, longer than her arms, gleamed in the pale light.
“Kill her.” The voice echoed through the cavern. The chimera hesitated. He looked ready to obey. Then he took a step away from her.
The dragon’s claws closed around him. Then they slammed him against the wall. A sickening crunch echoed through the cavern. Bones shattered. The chimera crumpled to the ground.
There was a flash of pain. Blinding. She looked down. A claw impaled her stomach. The dragon held her suspended for a moment. Then he pulled his claw free and dropped her to the ice.
–
Eva felt the life slipping from her. She was so cold. Her life had been so short. She had only just learned her own name. And the man… Who was he? He wore a gray cloak. And he loved her. She knew it. Somehow, she knew it. But it brought her no comfort.
Memories drifted through her mind. Fragments. Disconnected. Meaningless. None of them brought comfort. Eva. The Cross.
Lilies. An old rugged cross. Stained with blood. The Prince hung upon it. Bruised. Beaten. Naked. Scarcely recognizable as a man.
It was all for her. She was Eva. The Beloved. She remembered nail-scarred hands washing her feet. And the man. The man watched Him. Learning.
She let go. The light carried her away.
***
Perry clenched his fist around the lapis-lazuli ring as righteous fury filled him. Golden light enveloped him. The shackles fell from his wrists. Apollyon lay crumpled against the wall.
Too late. Eva gasped as the dragon impaled her on a claw and dropped her to the ice. Then he lifted a talon and swung it down toward her.
Perry stepped between them and raised his fist. The dragon’s talon recoiled. Light flooded the cavern. Wings beat overhead. Archangels at his call. Legions of angels to do his bidding.
Malice burned in the dragon’s eyes. Flames flickered between his teeth. Perry lowered his fist.
“The King rebuke you.” Perry barely raised his voice. The light became blinding. The dragon fled.
–
Perry fell to his knees beside Eva.
“Eva. Eva, dearest,” he whispered.
Her eyes were milky. Glazed over.
“The Cross, Eva. Remember the Cross.”
Perry closed his eyes and pictured the Prince. And the Cross. When he opened them again, he was kneeling before the Cross.
Eva knelt beside him.
