Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery

by Ethington, Rebecca

  “What? Not going to save your love?” I froze at Edmund’s voice, my body tensing.

  “Edmund,” I gasped, moving closer to Ryland in fear.

  “Go on,” he taunted, his voice deep and menacing. “Save him. Let me see how powerful you are.”

  I placed myself between Ryland and Edmund, glaring at the old monster. He was right there; right in front of me. My magic may have been thick and stagnant inside of me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fight him. I could try, anyway. I grabbed a small, burning stick and hurled it at him. It was a start, even if it did fling itself uselessly to the side.

  “Now, now,” Edmund said, “none of that. After all, what’s the point of your pathetic weapons when I possess the most powerful weapon of all?”

  “Miss me beautiful?” Ryland’s twisted voice whispered beside me and I spun to face him. My stomach plummeted as I came face to face with the pitch black eyes of a new Ryland. The Ryland who had lost his fight with his father, whose memory had been erased.

  “No!” True terror filled me at seeing him.

  “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” Ryland’s hands pulled me to him and lifted the back of my sweater, letting his hand come in contact with my skin. I began to scream in fear as his magic rushed into me the second I felt his cold touch. It flowed in an angry wave that spread to the very tips of my toes and lasted a moment before it began to sweep out again. As the heat left, so did my magic.

  The thick, useless, almost dead bits of magic that had hidden inside of me seeped away and into Ryland. My screams died down as the pain left and I slipped out of Ryland’s arms and onto the ash covered floor.

  “Dispose of it,” I heard Edmund say.

  Ryland’s hands surrounded my head, placing pressure against my skull. His hands grew hot as the pressure grew. As I could have sworn the bones began to crack.

  My own scream jostled me awake, my eyes adjusting to the dark studio apartment. My legs fought against the heavy comforters Ilyan had covered me with. I kicked and screamed to get away from them, to make it back to Ryland.

  “Ryland!” I yelled out loudly. I was sure he was right there; sure he was going to answer me.

  Strong arms encircled me, and for one fleeting moment I was certain it was Ryland. But the arms were wrong. They were leaner, stronger.

  “Joclyn! What’s wrong?” Ilyan stammered, his eyes as wide as mine in his panic at being awoken.

  “Ryland!” I yelled out again, not giving Ilyan an answer. I scrambled across the floor, my legs giving out a few steps in. I tumbled down to the ground as another wave of pain shot through my spine, crippling me.

  “Joclyn!” Ilyan was at my side immediately, his hands moving to press against me.

  “Don’t!” I yelled, pushing him away. I didn’t need his magic to calm or heal me. I didn’t need him. I needed Ryland. “I have to find Ryland!”

  I clawed my way toward the window, desperate to get out, to see if I could sense him. To see if I could save him. He had been in my dream; he remembered me in the dream. No, it hadn’t been a dream, it was a Tȍuha. A shared consciousness. I still had a chance at saving him.

  “You saw Ryland?” Ilyan said.

  “Yes!” I yelled, continuing to claw my way toward the glass. “He was there. In the Tȍuha. I saw him, he... he remembered me... I can save him...” I reached the glass as my spine clenched again. I screamed as my body threw me to the ground, the pain incapacitating me.

  Ilyan was there a moment later, his magic rushing into me in a wave of power. My body relaxed as the pain seeped away despite its attempt to possess me.

  “He’s gone, Silnỳ. He’s gone,” Ilyan said.

  “No! I saw him, in the Tȍuha. He remembered me. He...”

  “It wasn’t a Tȍuha, Silnỳ...” Ilyan moved me toward him, my pain-filled body unable to resist the unwanted contact.

  “It was... I saw him.” I was becoming desperate. I needed him to understand. I was running out of time.

  “No. Your necklace still lies in the bathroom and your magic... Silnỳ, the bond is not strong enough to connect with him without it.” I tried to push away from him, but it was useless. My body was too weak.

  “I saw him, Ilyan... I saw him.” I needed to get to him; I needed to open the window and find him.

  “It was a dream, Silnỳ. He’s gone.”

  “No!” I sobbed, attempting to move away from Ilyan again, yet he held me in place. “No, I saw him.”

  “He’s gone.”

  Slowly I gave in, the tears of my pain and my broken heart too much for me to fight. I cried into Ilyan’s bare chest, his hair falling around both of us as he cradled me and began to sing. I leaned into him as he sang the same song he had comforted me with the night he had flown me away from Ryland.

  The rough Czech words surrounded me as he sang over and over, soothing me back to sleep.

  Sixty-One

  Joclyn

  “Jos! Jos! Did you fall asleep again?” Wyn’s voice was loud over the speaker phone. I startled awake from my doze, my head swimming with the pain.

  “Sorry,” I looked toward Ilyan who had obviously begun standing in alarm at Wyn’s exclamation. Seeing me awake, he settled back into his seat, returning to the leatherwork he had been working on since we had first gotten here.

  “What were you saying?” I prompted. I heard her exhale on the other end of the line. I knew it was irritating talking to me like this, but I was finding it hard to stay awake for long.

  I had been haunted by the same dream every night since it had first awakened me in a panic five days ago. While I had given up on my foolish attempt to track Ryland down, the lack of sleep mixed with the screaming panic I awoke in had made me exceptionally weak. I wasn’t awake for much of the day anymore. If it wasn’t for Ilyan—calming me, protecting me, and healing me several times throughout the day—who knew what shape I would be in.

  I looked up to Ilyan again, unsurprised to find him watching me, his eyes lifted from his work.

  “I was saying,” Wyn replied and I was sure she was rolling her eyes, “I have finished your room in Prague for whenever Ilyan lets you out of that jail he’s trying to pass off as a living space. Nice white bed, a huge loft you can fly up and down from all day long. Talon insisted that I make it brown, though.”

  “No I didn’t!” Talon's voice broke through the speaker phone, the man having obviously grabbed the phone from Wyn. “Don’t you dare listen to her, little girl. She wouldn’t even give me a say in the matter.” I heard Ilyan laugh from across our small living space. I couldn’t help laughing along with them, but the action sent a sharp pain through my chest and I winced.

  Ilyan set down his work and moved over to me, his hand pressing against the skin on my hands the second he was within distance.

  “We don’t need your lungs to collapse today, do we?” he said low enough that the phone couldn’t pick it up. He smiled sadly, and I twisted my lips up in frustration.

  I reached out and grabbed Ilyan’s hand, and held on. I needed contact, and I was learning to accept Ilyan.

  “Not ever,” I hissed back. Stubborn to the end.

  “Anyway, as I was saying,” Wyn continued after having wrestled the phone away from Talon. “It is brown, but there is no orange. It looks nice. You’re going to love it.”

  I smiled and turned to Ilyan who shook his head. We hadn’t told Wyn what was going on, mostly because we didn’t want her to worry or run back to the United States. She was safe in Prague. She needed to stay there.

  “I bet I will,” I agreed. “Unless it’s too brown, then I may never talk to you again.”

  Wyn laughed and I tried to follow along, but my chest hurt too much even with the magical crutch that Ilyan’s magic had given me. He let go of my hand and reached up to touch my cheek.

  “Wynifred,” Ilyan interrupted, his eyes focused on mine while his hand remained resting against my face.

  “Yes, My Lord.” I smiled at how
her demeanor changed at Ilyan’s one word.

  “Joclyn needs to work on her magic now. We are going to have to continue this conversation at another time.”

  “Goodbye, Wyn,” I said softly, cringing as my chest pulsed with pain.

  “Later, Jos. My Lord.” Ilyan didn’t give me a chance to respond. He simply pressed the button to end the call and let his magic surge a bit more.

  “They do seem to come in waves don’t they?” Ilyan said. I nodded in agreement, my head spinning as I did so.

  “Is that what we are calling them now? I thought we had settled on crippling destruction pulses.”

  “So, tell me.” Ilyan swiftly changed the subject and I knew what was coming. I shifted my weight, I was ready.

  At my insistence, Ilyan had begun mentally training me the morning after my first nightmare. He recited different ways to use defensive magic, the process of building shields, and every other bit of magic he hoped could help me defeat Edmund. Once he recited it, I would recite it back. I’m not sure who held out more hope for my survival, me or Ilyan, but I couldn’t deny the burning desire to defeat Edmund that still glowed brightly inside of me. I was determined to beat this and I needed to be ready. Either way it was still a good way to get my mind off of what was happening.

  “What happens when two fire-based, water-bound orbs collide?”

  “A fire wall.” I said, giving him the simplest answer as I felt his magic wrap around my lungs, fixing who knows what.

  “Good. And redirection of objects without the use of wind?”

  I cringed as I felt his magic snake its way up my spine, the warmth wrapping around my bones like a blanket.

  “Is based in the thoughts of the mind and the second tier of energy storage. Both must work in succession for the task to be successful.”

  “Good,” he said with a smile. “And the magic of the Vilỳ?”

  “It awakens that hidden magic that humans possess. They can manipulate that magic for the human’s benefit. Magic is only awoken in mortals by the bite of a Vilỳ or from bonding with a magical being.” My voice caught as something shifted inside of me. Ilyan froze for a moment before asking another question, his deflection barely covered up his worry.

  “What else is based in the mind?” He didn’t look at me, and my fear increased.

  “Internal sight, movement of thoughts and images from one person to another…” I stopped at the look on his face. He wasn’t overly concerned or angry, he simply looked heartbroken. The misery in his eyes took my breath away.

  “Ilyan?” I whispered, and his head turned toward me. “What’s the damage?”

  When Ilyan hesitated, I squeezed his hand, hoping to prompt him to tell me. He returned the gesture, looking away from me.

  “Your kidneys have failed; your lungs attempt to collapse every time you are pained there. You also have what I can only relate to a tumor snaking its way up your spine. I’m trying to stop them...” I cringed and clung to his hand tightly. Hearing him actually say what was going on inside my body made it more real.

  “I can survive a broken back, but being separated from my mate is what kills me.” I tried to smile. “Go figure.”

  “Go figure,” Ilyan repeated, the American saying sounding awkward with his accent. He smiled slightly and reached out, running his fingers along the mark below my ear.

  “I had an idea on how to repair the bond,” he said. “But first, I think you need to see Ryland. It might be the last time you can.”

  “I can’t, Ilyan. I can’t control my magic enough to visit him.”

  Ilyan moved his fingers away from my neck then opened the palm of his hand as the ruby necklace flew through the air to land gracefully in his outstretched fingers.

  “You can.” He let the necklace fall so he was only holding it by the chain. The ruby sparkled, taunting me. “I will help you.”

  I hesitated, my eyes unwilling to leave the glistening surface of the ruby. I did want to see Ryland again, but not the little boy in the Tȍuha. I wanted my Ryland. I suppose, given the chance to say goodbye to either, though, I would take it.

  “Okay, I’ll go see him.”

  “Good, and when you come back, I want to talk to you about one last thing. I may have a way to save you; it’s a long shot, but it might work.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “We will talk after you return. Are you ready?”

  I wasn’t, but what else could I say. I didn’t have the time to prepare myself, and I was aware that I would talk myself out of it if I waited too long. I nodded again before I lost my confidence.

  “Good.” Ilyan’s magic bubbled and boiled inside of me as it worked to move the dying sludge that was poisoning my body. He pushed, pulled, and prodded it until it reached the surface. I could feel the thick acid burning underneath the skin of my hand, the rancid magic eating me away.

  Ilyan dropped the necklace into my hand and began to work again as he pushed my magic out of me.

  My hand began to fill with a fluid that seeped out of my skin as Ilyan pushed. Thick like mud, but smooth and the color of congealed blood, it bubbled out of my skin slow and hot.

  I had done this multiple times, and it never ceased to gross me out.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with it?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the warm goo that was now seeping around the necklace.

  “The best explanation I have is that it has rotted and died within you and in turn is poisoning you.” His magic continued to push mine through my skin, the color becoming almost purple as more moved to join the growing mass.

  “Can’t we remove it, then?”

  “I’ve tried, but it did not work.”

  “You’ve tried?” I asked, affronted.

  “Yes,” he spoke simply, as though this odd invasion of privacy was nothing more than a handshake. “I tried it after you had the first nightmare while you slept. I hoped that draining what was inside of you would heal you. Unfortunately, it keeps coming back.”

  “You’ve done it more than once?”

  “Every night. I will try everything to save you, to protect you, Joclyn. Until the day you die. I promise you all that and more.”

  Ilyan looked at me for a moment, but all I could do was smile. Ilyan had saved me so many times, and he expected nothing in return. For someone with such a rough exterior, he could easily melt someone to goo if he tried.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  “Are you ready?” His question tore my mind back to the dying magic in my hand. He had stopped forcing the rancid power out of me, leaving the necklace in a small pool of the stuff in my hand.

  “I will be with you the entire time, Joclyn. Don’t worry. And when you come back, we will talk.” His eyes lit up for a moment before his determination took over, his jaw set.

  I grit my teeth and nodded once before I closed my eyes and let myself step into the white space that I shared with Ryland. Except now it was full of color.

  I gasped and spun around. I was surrounded by thousands of crude drawings that covered the walls and floor in a rainbow of color. What once had been an undefined space was now enclosed by four walls. There were no windows or doors, so someone had taken the liberty to draw them in.

  “Joclyn?” I spun around at the small voice to see Ryland standing in the middle of the room. His petite, five year old frame seemed to be glowing as I faced him, his blue eyes shining at seeing me there. Ryland as I had known him, as I was bound to him, was not this boy. He was not this age. This boy was only a subconscious projection, the last of the memories that his father had left him with.

  “You came back!” He squealed and barreled into my legs, almost knocking me over onto the hard ground. He hugged me tightly, chalk and crayon dust wiping off onto my pants. I leaned down and ruffled his shaggy black curls.

  “I take it you missed me then?” I asked softly.

  “Of course I did! You were gone so long that I thought I would be alone forever
.”

  “You haven’t left?” I asked as Ryland enthusiastically shook his head in answer. I arched my brow in confusion; that didn’t make sense. Ryland had always been able to leave before. He had left me alone in our space a number of times, and yet this time he was trapped.

  “Nope, so I drew you a gift!” He motioned around him, his wide smile returning. “Do you like it?” He spun his fingers, and a bright red crayon appeared in-between them.

  “You drew all this for me?” Ryland’s face lit up at my response.

  “I even drew a really, really special one for you. Do you want to see?”

  “Umm... yeah.” I smiled at him and he skipped away, excited to be showing me one of his many masterpieces.

  I followed him until he stopped near a wide expanse of blue that I assumed to be a swimming pool.

  “What is it, Ry?” I asked, coming to stand next to him and still not quite sure which of the surrounding images I should be looking at.

  “It’s you,” he said quietly.

  I followed his line of sight to a crayon drawing that was obviously meant to be life size. The portrait Ryland had drawn was of me with long, dark hair, big eyes that were actually crude sketches of diamonds, and stick hands and legs.

  The figure wore a purple robe and had a pink crown on her head. I wanted to laugh, but instead I smiled, feeling exceptionally happy.

  I kneeled down next to him, wrapping my arms around his tiny shoulders.

  “You drew this for me?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful, Ry. Thank you.”

  “You like it?” he asked, his little voice bursting with pride. I squeezed him against me, his frame so small against mine. I was overcome by a memory of Ryland, the way he should be; large, older than me, muscles, and scars.

  “I love it.” I said.

  “Good! Now, you can draw one of me.” He pushed a blue crayon into my hand and struck a pose in expectation.

  “Actually,” I said, feeling guilty as Ryland’s face fell. “I came to say goodbye.”