“Nothing,” he laughed, helping me to stand. “That’s just a lyric from one of your bands, right? Electric Who Styx.”
Now I couldn’t help but laugh, “No, it’s not, and that’s not a band.”
He shrugged, swiping his hand over the arena to clean it up. “It was a valid attempt. Do you want to…”
He let the question linger, looking between the sparring hall and the door back to our rooms.
“I think I would rather not turn any more stone into water,” I swallowed, blinking a few times as I stared at the now perfectly normal sparring hall. “That did happen, didn’t it?”
He nodded, pulling me closer to him as we began to move toward our room. He was going into full body guard mode. Always the worry wort that one.
“I’m fine, Talon. Although I would like to know what that was all about. I could have sworn my magic felt hot for a second.” Talon pulled me to a stop and I almost tripped over his big feet. “Talon?”
“You said it felt hot?” I nodded in agreement. “Like boiling or like fire?”
“Fire.” That look was back on his face, the split second worry heightened before it was gone again. This time I pulled him to a stop, pulling him around to look at me. He would not escape my scowl. “What is it Talon?”
He shook his head, “I don’t know enough about Trpaslík magic to know. Maybe that happens when you exert yourself too much, or when a fire attack hits you.”
I looked at him for a second. He wasn’t wrong. We didn’t know enough about my magic, and it wasn’t like there were any more Trpaslíks here that we could ask. For all I knew it was normal. Even if it felt very, very wrong.
“I’ve never been hit by fire before,” I said, feeling like I was picking at straws. “If that’s what it does, though, bring it on. Imagine how cool that could be in battle.”
Talon didn’t seem nearly as excited as I was.
Poor thing. I really needed him to enjoy exploding things as much as I did.
Sixty-Four
Joclyn
The steady thrum of feet followed right behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. It was the same man who always stalked my nightmares.
Edmund.
I turned a corner in the dilapidated house and squished myself against the burnt wainscoting, knowing full well it would not hide me. It didn’t matter. The sooner they found me. The sooner I found them, the sooner I could be released from the nightmares that had haunted me every night for months.
The nightmares were always different, although the general theme of them stayed the same. Cail would chase me from the forest to the house where I would die at the hands of Edmund, Ryland, Timothy, or Cail.
I felt a heavy thud in my chest as the sound of the shoes grew louder, Edmund’s gait easily decipherable to me now.
Thump, whack, thump.
I pushed myself into the wall, my magic flaring in preparation as he came around the corner, Cail following him like an injured dog.
Tap, tap, thwick!
I pushed my hands toward him, sending a stream of light, but the attack bounced off of him, causing him to smile more. I pressed myself against the wall, eyes wide as I sought escape, knowing it was useless.
“Ah! There you are!” Edmund said joyfully, like an old grandfather welcoming home a prodigal child. Well, a prodigal child that he enjoyed torturing. My spine froze in terror and I hesitated a moment too long, allowing Cail to come up beside me and pin me to the wall.
I cringed away from the contact, away from what was coming, but it was no use. I could already hear the second set of footsteps approaching.
A soft step on the left, a slight drag on the right. My mind must have been paying much more attention than I gave it credit for to have pulled this little detail of Ryland into my nightly terrors.
“We were worried you didn’t want to play,” Edmund continued lightly, as if I wasn’t being restrained. “We were worried we would have to chase you down all night.”
“Chase me? Naw, I’m attacking you.” I tried to flare my power toward him again, but he twisted his own magic in my gut and I felt my own retreat.
Edmund smiled and leaned toward me. I recoiled away from him, turning my head against the wall. A large lump blocked my throat at seeing Ryland slinking toward me, his eyes black, his beautiful face covered in a sheen of sweat.
“We didn’t want to chase you down, did we Cail?” I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Ryland as Edmund spoke. I stared at him as I tried to control the beating of my heart, the frantic mixture of panic and need making me dizzy.
“No, Master,” Cail’s voice was right in my ear, the putrid smell of his breath washing over me.
I was surrounded.
“Let me go, you bastards!” I tried to fight against Edmund, attack them all with my magic, but nothing was coming.
“You really are a silly little girl, aren’t you?” Edmund laughed, Cail’s laugh echoing it.
I had yet to understand the relationship my subconscious had created between Edmund and Cail. Edmund used him as a puppet, and every time Cail would obey without question. Sometimes his face would be screwed up in maniacal joy at what he was asked to do, and other times I could have sworn he was disgusted by it. It was as if my mind didn’t know what to do with him.
I gasped at the pressure Cail put me under as I turned toward Edmund. Ryland now stood in between us, Edmund’s hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder. It was the same image that had been burned into my head right before Ilyan had flown me away from them.
Edmund smiled at the panic on my face; his joy at my torture evident. Cail laughed in my ear as he prepared for his part in this twisted performance.
“Look at you, thinking you can escape us,” Ryland’s light voice was laced with a venom I had grown used to hearing in these dreams.
“I can escape you,” I snarled, my hands growing warm against him. It was no use, he ignored the attack and his hold only grew.
“What should I do with her, Father?”
Ryland’s eyes never left mine as he smiled, Edmund’s wicked grin joining his son’s in perfect synchronization.
This was the only part of the dream I couldn’t bat away, the only part I couldn’t blame on my subconscious. I couldn’t ignore it because the pain was real. It never followed me as I woke, but I couldn’t shake all the pain that Ryland caused me. I couldn’t wipe it from my mind.
“Pull her through.”
It was a command I had never heard before and so I cried out in anticipation of the unknown. Seconds later, I felt Ryland’s hand make contact with my stomach for a moment before the pain hit and the contact changed to something deeper. My stomach burned as his hand began to move through me, pulling my insides apart. I screamed louder.
I was still screaming as the dream faded away and the grey room that had been my prison for the last three months drifted into view. The comforter shifted as Ilyan came to my rescue. He moved to lay behind me and pulled me against his bare chest, his magic flowing into me and calming my frayed nerves. His arms were tight, pulling me against him before they caressed the skin on my arms. My screaming died down, but the tears remained. They flowed freely down my cheeks and onto the pillowcase, wetting a spot so soaked every night that it had been stained with the salt water from my tears. It was the only time I cried anymore; the only time my emotions were raw enough to let the dratted things escape.
“Shhh… Silnỳ, it’s okay. To je v pořádku.”
I leaned into Ilyan as he began to sing his song, the words whispered gently in my ear. As Ilyan sang, I sang with him, my voice shaky against my tears, the Czech words flowing roughly off of my tongue.
“Hush now, child. Be still, be calm. The world will change at the new dawn, and when it does, you will see how you and I were meant to be.”
I sang it over and over again, long after Ilyan had fallen asleep, his arms still wrapped around me.
I wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. And not j
ust because Ilyan’s arm around me had become a deadweight over my side. Those dreams were a little too real, and the fear of another one kept me awake.
I lifted his arm off me and slid from the bed and onto the floor, my knees coming up to press against my chest. I pulled my black hoodie over my knees, trapping the warmth against my body. I sat like that with my fuzzy pink socks poking out, my eyes focused on the carpet that once had held the dark stain of my rotten magic.
We had been confined to the claustrophobic depths of the studio apartment ever since I had survived the attack of my own magic on my body three months ago. I knew that hiding away was the only way to keep my magic hidden from Ryland and his father, but that didn’t help the ‘prisoner for life’ vibe it gave me. I was restrained inside of this space with Ilyan’s strong, immovable shield around me at all times.
Which left me with nothing to do other than perfect, expand, and stretch my magic. I had thrown myself into preparing to fight; to keep myself alive for when I came face to face with the real Edmund.
The real bastard, not his dream version.
It was going to happen. I had to leave eventually.
Until then, though, I practiced and I visited Ryland in our Tȍuha.
That was just as much of a requirement as preparing to end Edmund. If I went too long between Tȍuhas my body began to ache, my energy exhausted.
Even though I loved the sensation Ryland’s magic gave me, even though I longed to see him, I still dreaded going into the Tȍuha. Every time I saw Ryland inside, it was the equivalent of seeing someone through glass, never being able to truly touch them. Never knowing if you would ever be able to break the glass and get them back. It was painful, but I had to go. If I didn’t my body would waste away to nothing again.
Pulling out the ruby necklace, my finger rubbed against the scar that rested over my heart, the skin raised and jagged.
I hated that scar as much as I hated the mark below my ear, each one a painful reminder of what I had lost, but sadly, I could handle my mark better. The mark had just appeared there, it hadn’t been carved into my skin by someone I loved. Whether or not he was in his right mind at the time, it was still Ryland’s body, his face, that had hurt me.
I pushed the thought away and filled the necklace—my only connection to Ryland—with my magic. My body grew warm and filled me with the heat of Ryland’s power as his latent magic that lived inside of me awakened. It was the same comforting warmth I had grown up with, the same feeling my body constantly craved.
My eyes closed and I wandered into the colorful world that lived beyond my eyelids. I had spent every morning of the last few months coming in here and coloring with Ryland, sharing our dreams, talking about stories and making up our own.
It was a place where we created new memories while our old ones lay forgotten.
Well, at least his did.
“Jossy!” Ry bolted toward me, running headlong into me so that we both fell backwards onto the hard floor. Ryland sat up from where we landed, his pointy elbows digging into my stomach. He smiled his large grin that I loved so much, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Hey Ry, did you miss me?” I asked, pushing his long, black curls out of his eyes.
“You know I did, Jossy, you’re so funny.”
“You sure about that?” I asked, poking him in the ribs.
He could hear the mischief in my voice so he jumped up and away from me before I could grab and tickle him.
“Don’t, Jossy,” Ryland squealed.
“Why not?” I asked, moving up on all fours in an attempt to look like I was going to lunge at him.
“Because, if you do, I can’t show you my new drawing,”
“A new one?”
Without being able to leave, Ryland had continued to spend all of his time coloring new masterpieces to fill the white void. Every time I came he had a new drawing to share or a new story that he wanted to tell me.
He grabbed my hand and towed me behind him toward a divot in the floor we had lovingly named ‘the swimming pool’. I willingly followed; his joy at sharing his new creation infectious.
“Just wait until you see it,” he called back to me, “I want to play ‘Princess and the Dragon of Delagn’ after you see it, ‘kay? It looks just like a dragon.”
“Okay, but can I be the dragon this time? I’m tired of being the... princess,” I stammered to a stop as Ryland signaled toward the wall where he had drawn his masterpiece.
A giant cage stood as tall as I did, the huge drawing made with heavy black lines. Inside the cage unintelligible figures had been drawn in hundreds of colors. The door to the cage stood open, Ryland standing next to it, and on his finger perched Ryland’s ‘dragon’. It was small and scaled like a dragon or a dinosaur, but it wasn’t a dragon at all. Its scales were a bright jewel blue and on his back were large, feathered wings. The face of the creature was somewhat feminine yet distorted somehow. Its cheek bones were high, eyes large and wide, and its nose was almost nonexistent. Even though I had only fleetingly seen one before, I knew what it was immediately.
Ryland had drawn a Vilỳ.
The little creature that had given me my mark, his poisonous bite awakening my magic. My hand moved to cover the mark underneath my ear.
“Do you like him?” Ryland asked, “I am going to name him Opal because he kind of looks like a woman, but I really think it’s a man.”
I only half heard what Ryland had said. I couldn’t rip my eyes from the intricate drawing. This picture was much more detailed than Ryland had drawn before, more than a child his age should be able to.
“When did you draw this, Ryland?”
“Last night, it took some time, but it was worth it. See, this is me, holding Opal. I am about to let him loose and he’s going to grow big and strong and destroy an evil wizard. You can be Opal, and I’ll be myself and the wizard, cuz I always wanted to be a wizard...”
“Did you see this somewhere before?” I interrupted him, panicking a bit. “Why did you draw this?”
Ryland screwed up his face and squared his shoulders, upset I wasn’t going to play his game. “I just drew it, Jossy. It didn’t come from anywhere. I thought it would be a fun game.”
“A game.” I ran my fingers over the delicate chalk of the Vilỳ’s face, careful not to smudge the marks. “Do you know what this means?”
“If you want to be the wizard that’s fine, I just thought it would be cool if...”
“You remember me,” I spun to him and grabbed his tiny little shoulders.
I looked deep into his eyes, expecting him to smile and be his old self right away, but nothing happened. He gazed at me like I had gone mad.
“Of course I remember you, you’re right here.”
I stood and wheeled away from him, back to the black door that served as my exit.
“I have to go.”
“You have to go?” he called after me, his little voice upset. “But, you just got here! We have to play the game. Don’t you want to be Opal?”
I turned back to him when I had reached the door we had created in exit, my gut wrenching to see tears in his eyes. “I’ll be back, Ry. Okay? I need to go tell Ilyan something and then I’ll be right back.”
“You promise you’ll come back today?”
“Of course I do.” I ruffled his hair before turning the knob of my door, my eyes opening instantaneously to the brightening apartment.
“Ilyan!” I noticed the empty mass of blankets on the floor and turned to the bed to find it empty as well. I hadn’t been gone long—less than twenty minutes in the Tȍuha, meaning it would only have been a matter of minutes in the real world. I stood up and ran to the bathroom door, hearing water running behind it. Steam seeped underneath the door, filling the room with a warm, musty smell.
“Ilyan!” I called through the door, knowing he would ignore me the first few times. Ilyan needed his morning showers to wake him up or he was grumpy all day.
“Ilyan!” I called again, this
time letting my magic flow through the door to turn off the water. I heard Ilyan swear loudly in Czech before turning it back on. I knew I shouldn’t bug him, doing this would only make him more upset, but I didn’t care. My heart beat uncomfortably, the drawing still visible in my mind’s eye. I knew I shouldn’t dare to hope—dare to dream—but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Ilyan, it’s important!” I tried again.
“Is someone dying?” he yelled back. “Are you dying? Because I think I have reached my quota for saving your life this year!” Yep. Definitely surly.
I kicked my toe against the door and offered up my own brand of cussing. Fine. If he wasn’t going to come out, then I would send the drawing to him. I pressed my palm against the door and let my magic flare, sending the image right into Ilyan’s mind. I waited a moment, and then I heard it, a sharp intake of breath. The water shut off and a moment later the door opened to reveal Ilyan; wet, soapy, and only covered by a towel from the waist down. His wet hair fell over his shoulders, dripping down the skin of his scarred chest. I gulped and looked away. This wasn’t the first time I had seen him like this, but it always made me uncomfortable.
“Where did you get that?” he said, ignoring my reaction to him.
“Ryland. He drew it,” I said, my face breaking out into a wide smile.
“He drew it?” His eyes narrowed as though he didn’t believe me. I folded my arms and stared him down.
“Yes, he drew it. He wanted to play a game about it. He didn’t understand what it was.”
“Show me.” Ilyan grabbed my hand and placed it against his forehead. I sighed as his magic pulsed and flowed into me, pulling the memory out of my head.
I watched the Tȍuha replay; the speed picked up, slowed down, and repeated itself as Ilyan gleaned the information he wanted. The second he was done, I pulled my hand away. Ilyan had done that to me once before, when he was trying to teach me how to do it myself, and it had given me a headache then, too. He could only perform that particular magic with certain people, and seeing as I was one of them, I guess he figured he had permission to do it whenever he wanted to without asking.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 44