The underground spring ran through the lowest level of the tunnels below Prague—well, the lowest level that anyone dared to go to anyway.
This room and the ancient dungeon below were old relics of when Edmund had first declared war on all magic. In the beginning, the dungeons were used to house traitors, and Edmund’s men that Ilyan had captured, but refused to kill. There had been at least ten of the Skȓítek army in here at any time, guarding the prisoners in the rooms below.
That was what the Skȓíteks were after all, an army—an army with the sole purpose of guarding the wells that sat in the lowest points of these caves.
The wells of Imdalind, the center of magic.
Ilyan and Edmund were the last ones alive who knew the way through the labyrinth of tunnels that led down to the muddy wells, which is why it was so scary that someone could be letting Edmund’s people in here. If Edmund got in, he could stroll right down to the source of pure magic as if he were walking into a Denny’s.
Now, however, the dungeons were bare, the rooms below and the guard chamber I now stood in were only a reminder of how the war had started and how many magical beings there had once been.
Placing the tablecloth into the water, I scrubbed the fabric before letting the majority of it trail away with the flow of the water. I held onto the corner, letting the white lace swirl through the freezing water.
In only a few minutes, my hands had become a lovely red color, although I couldn’t feel the burning tingle of the cold. If my skin was threatening hypothermia, I had no idea.
Everything inside me had heated when my skin touched the stone of the floor. My skin felt as though it was alive, the sensation hadn’t really gone away since Talon had hit me with that attack. If anything it felt more alive. I hadn’t told Talon any of it, not after that look he gave me. Besides, my personal explosion factor increased by ten when my skin was in contact with the stone, now. Although I had only managed to accidentally explode a door frame, I wasn’t quite ready to tell him.
“NO!”
I jumped—like, full on jumped—at the disembodied voice that bounced against the stone around me. The high-pitched scream shot through my body in an electric surge that raised every hair on my arms to full attention, my heart rate jumping with the speed of a twenty thousand volt reaction.
“P-please, n... no.”
The woman was back, which meant that whoever was torturing her was back, too. They were close, close enough to find me. Close enough for me to find them.
“You’re mine, you fudging bastards.” I dropped the wet wad of lace down to the stone floor and tuned my ears toward where I could only assume the voice was coming from.
“I... I... w-won’t t-tell you!”
My head spun, the voice seemed to have moved from one area of the cave to another. This time, the voice echoed down a darkened hallway that led toward the dungeon. I looked at the dark cavern, my nerves mingling with fear. No way was I going down there alone. No way. For all I knew, that was exactly what they wanted. Last thing I needed was to run into someone in the dark and then accidentally collapse the cave with my magic. Yep, that would be just my luck.
Why did this voice, this woman, only seem to appear when everyone else was busy?
“L-leave me a... alone,” her voice broke and stuttered as she once again begged for her life.
I turned, ready to take off toward the sparring hall where the pull of Talon’s magic told me he would be, but my wet Chuck Taylors squeaked on the stone on the first step. I froze, expecting to be heard, but the crying remained. The last thing I needed was to scare her off before I could get Talon, and we could investigate.
I began walking again, moving slowly this time until the volume of the crying had lessened enough that I figured I was out of earshot, allowing me to take off on a dead run toward the training hall.
I barreled into the large hall and wove my way through the small groups of sparring Skȓíteks, each group covered by the shimmering orb of a shield. I worked my way through them, looking like a fool when I jumped at an explosion that rocked against a barrier near my head.
“Hi, baby,” Talon said softly when I ran up beside him. His face dropped at the look in my eyes and the transmission of my panic that I was sure he felt through our bond.
“I heard her again. I think she is in the old dungeons.”
Talon said nothing more before dragging me behind him out of the training hall and toward the underground spring.
His feet moved quickly, his gait and cumbersome shape unable to be quiet as we bounded through one dark tunnel and another before arriving in the same large cavern I had just left, the dark entryway to the dungeons staring at us hauntingly.
“Are you sure you heard the voice from down there?” Talon asked, his voice shaking. I had never been down there, but Talon had, hundreds of times. The place was probably full of more haunted memories than crazy, flesh-stripped skeletons. There always were in dungeons.
“Of course I am not sure, Talon. Her voice echoes around like an Olympic game of Ping-Pong. She could have been a mermaid in the water for all I know.”
“Don’t be silly,” Talon said, his voice still shaking, although less than before. “Mermaids don’t exist.”
Talon took a step toward the stairs, his magic surging as he put on a small shield. Dude, he wasn’t thinking about going in there, was he?
“Talon?” I asked from behind him, my voice catching at the petrified anger on his face. “Baby, let’s go. We can’t hear her anymore; she’s gone.”
I pulled on him, but he didn’t move. I waited, but he didn’t respond. His eyes stayed glued to the dark opening as if they had been sewn there. It was creepy watching him stare at something so intently.
“What are you two doing here?” Ovailia spat with as much icy venom as she possibly could and we both jumped.
I whipped around to see her standing in the entry, her long arms folded over her slender torso.
“Staring down holes, Ovailia, what are you doing?” I loved prodding her, and she responded in kind, lips pursed. She looked like a puffer fish.
“That is no longer your concern, Ovailia,” Talon said simply, his voice making it clear he didn’t feel the need to elaborate.
I guessed that was the one good thing about growing up with Ovailia; he was used to her. When you can think of someone as a tantrum-throwing toddler with a stinky diaper, their fits as an adult didn’t truly bother you.
“What?” Ovailia said, her voice airy with surprise. I had always assumed it would take pigs standing and walking on their hind legs to surprise her.
“I do not need to remind you of Ilyan’s proclamation regarding who is acting in his stead, do I?” Talon wrapped his arm around me, pressing my shoulder into him.
“No, I remember quite well,” she said snottily, the airy confusion in her voice gone now as she began to shift her feet.
I stared at Ovailia intently, the nerves in my spine jumping sporadically. Something about the way Ovailia shifted her feet was freaking me out. Her whole body was screaming, liar! Run! I couldn’t tear my eyes from the icy blue of hers and the way her lips curled in warning.
“Speaking of Ilyan,” Ovailia started, her voice hesitant, “how is my dear brother?”
“Wonderful,” Talon answered, his voice pinched.
Ovailia smiled, but said nothing. Talon began to lead me out of the large room, the basket and wet tablecloth perched on his hip.
“Oh, and Wynifred,” Ovailia sneered the moment we had passed her, “I wouldn’t go poking around in corners if I were you.”
“Why? Am I gonna find your old withered skin that you change into every night?” I hissed, my body pulling away from Talon as my magic surged angrily.
“There are worse things. Not that you would remember.”
I wanted to lunge at her, but Talon’s strong arm wrapped around my waist and he dragged me out and away from her punchable face. I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving her there,
but something in Talon’s body language begged me to.
I complied, choosing instead to stick my tongue out at the stone wall that stood between us.
Yes, sometimes I was just that childish.
Eighty
Ryland
“Again! You failed again!”
My head slammed into the bars as my father threw me back into my cell. I instantly curled into a ball, hands weaving through my hair as I tried to protect my head. All I ended up doing was tugging at my hair and rocking back and forth as I sobbed.
“Please don’t. Please don’t.” I barely recognized the sound of my own voice.
“Pathetic.” ‘How did I ever think you could live up to my expectations?’ “I’m ashamed to call you son.”
“Please don’t.” I just repeated the words, Edmund’s snarl fading to laughter in my head.
“I’m done with this. Cail!” Edmund called to his lackey as he turned. I already knew what was coming. There was no escaping him now.
“Ryland,” Sain hissed through the bars, I looked up to him, my panic calming a bit. “You have to fight him.”
“I’m trying.” My whisper turned into a scream and whatever Cail and Edmund had been hissing about silenced, both of them turning to us.
“Do you have something to say, Sain?” Edmund asked with that icy snarl of his, and weirdly, for the first time, Sain didn’t recoil like he normally did.
“Only to advise you against this.”
“You have advised me against everything, you useless Drak, and nothing has worked. Why do you think I would continue to listen to you?” Edmund stepped closer, his eyes on me as he hovered over me. He never looked away, even though he was clearly talking to Sain.
I shivered under the iciness of his gaze and continued to tug on my hair.
“Because you know I am right.” Sain’s voice was weirdly strong, but Edmund didn’t care. He just laughed and reached behind him. Cail handing him the knife.
“You were just wrong, Sain, or did you not see us return from our failed attempt at finishing them?”
Edmund looked at no one but the knife. All of our eyes were focused on the sinister red of the blade that Edmund was now caressing. Not even Sain was breathing.
“Cail. If you will.” Edmund pet the blade as he kneeled before me, Cail swooping to my side and pulling my shirt up to expose my chest. I tried to fight, but Cail’s hand slapped against my chest, covering my heart as his magic flooded through me, freezing me. I could only look from Cail to my father in a panic as my father gripped the knife, grinning in preparation.
“I want her, Cail. Location. Mind. Magic. I don’t care what you bring me, but it better be good.”
“Yes, Master.” Cail’s voice was tight, my heart a thunder of panic as Edmund lifted the knife, preparing to slam it down, right into my heart.
‘I told you not to fight me.’
Edmund’s voice was harsh in my mind as the knife swung down, as Cail tensed against what was about to happen, as I watched in horror as the knife descended, as Sain yelled and slammed his hand through the bars as though to stop the blade.
Instead it slid right through his flesh.
Before anyone could stop it, the sharp point of the blade slid through Sain’s hand, and Cail’s, and plunged itself right into my heart.
My scream mixed with the others, all of us screaming in the pain of the stab, the pain of the magic as it connected to our souls and sliced against them. The agony was a white hot brand that reached every inch of my flesh. Pain. Too much pain. I couldn’t scream enough. I couldn’t escape it. Just when I didn’t think I could take anymore the world faded.
This time, however, it did not fade to the black hell that Cail put me in when he took control of me. Instead, it faded to white.
Blissful, serene white.
A white so pure that it seemed to burn away the pain. It washed away the agony of what my father had done. My body didn’t ache. My mind wasn’t teetering on insanity. I was me.
I felt the closest to myself then I had in months.
And even better, I could remember everything. The good, the bad, and her.
“Joclyn.” Saying her name without fear or confusion was the exact balm I needed.
I stepped forward, as if I could find her here. But there was nothing but a swirling white smoke. It shifted as I moved, dancing like a fog at dawn. Although this fog seemed to glow, all on its own.
“Ryland.” I turned at the voice, ready to attack whoever was here. It was just Sain, although he looked nothing like he had in the cells. His beard was gone, his hair clean, his bright green eyes almost startling against the burnt almond of his skin.
“Sain?” I barely recognized him.
He nodded once, and I instantly turned, there was more than one person who had been stabbed by the knife. I had no interest in facing him here.
“He’s not here,” Sain said, answering the look on my face. “Cail controls this place. He will bring us into whatever hell he is creating when he needs us.”
“He controls this place?” I repeated, millions of questions popping into my mind at the same time. “He controls the soul's blade? Is that what this place is?”
“I would assume so, he seems to have a blood tie to it. I cannot be certain, though, I have never been stabbed by a soul blade before. If I had to guess, this is our soul, connecting right to the soul that the blade is made up of.”
“Is that why I can remember everything? Why nothing hurts?”
Sain turned to me, sending more of that smoke swirling. “Yes. That’s good. It means that whatever they are doing to you hasn’t reached your soul. Keep it that way.”
He said that as if I could control it. I just nodded politely and turned, still looking for Cail. Or whoever else was here.
“I knew one existed, but I never expected him to use it.” Sain mumbled to himself as he looked around, almost as though he was in awe of the whole thing.
I felt my stomach twist. I could never be in awe of something like this. Someone was tortured to create this.
“If we are here, then where is the person who was used to create the blade?”
“Rosaline.” Sain repeated the name of the blade with a bit of reverence. I felt my stomach flip. “I would assume she doesn’t want to be seen. Or perhaps she is doing more important things…”
I had been imprisoned with Sain since all of this began, but I had never heard him speak like this. Well, not unless he was in a sight. He sounded like a monk, or a hoity-toity prince.
“Listen, Ryland,” Sain suddenly turned, rushing toward me and surrounding us with swirling smoke. As he moved, the fog behind him parted, revealing what I could have sworn were trees. Odd, I hadn’t seen those there before.
“Now that Edmund has control of our souls, he is not going to stop. You need to decide how hard you will fight, and how much you are willing to give.”
The smoke moved all on its own that time, the trees having moved closer. Yes, those definitely were not there before. Judging by the panic that had overtaken Sain, I would guess that whatever Sain had planned was moving closer.
“Give to Edmund?”
“To Joclyn.” He was frantic now. I, however, smiled. Being able to think of her freely was warming, even if the situation was dire. “This bond between you is broken. It may be hurting you as much as it is her. What would you give to protect that?”
“Everything. I would give everything.”
“Good. Then promise me, vow to me, that when the time comes, you will do exactly that.”
I didn’t need to think of my answer to that.
“I promise.” I had barely spoken the words, when the white was sucked away, and a blood stained forest surrounded us.
Eighty-One
Joclyn
One night without the dreams had changed something about them. The trees were taller, darker, and more sinister. Growling surrounded me, the one previous voice changing to an echo on all sides.
&nb
sp; Growing closer.
Closer.
It was all too real. The sounds, the way my hair stood on end. I could have sworn I had been transported to this forest and was not just dreaming it. The dreams had never felt so real before, the change was frightening.
I stood frozen in the middle of the large clearing, trying to find out what else had changed, what I should do, which way to run. But where do you run if enemies were everywhere? I needed to attack.
Tightening my jaw, I let my magic boil, the heat swelling in my fingertips. Even that felt more real. My magic in the dreams had always felt foreign, but this was distinctly mine.
I would need it. I wasn’t alone.
My chest heaved as I breathed in and out, my nerves coursing wildly as the growling grew and figures formed amongst the trees. Their black shapes shifted around the tall trunks of the forest, weaving through the trunks as they moved closer, forming a wide circle, trapping me.
The growls deepened into something more human and my magic shifted, preparing for an attack.
Preparing for him. I had felt this pull before, in Santa Fe. Which could only mean one thing: Ryland was close.
But I had never felt this pull in a dream before, even before Santa Fe. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
All at once the growling stopped, the shapes disappeared, and I was alone. I stopped spinning, freezing as I faced the pull of my magic and tried to ignore the desperation my heart felt at its call.
“It’s not him. It can’t be him.”
I closed my eyes and tried to wipe the feeling, but then I heard it, the one growl that had always begun the dreams. I listened intently, trying to decide if it would be Cail, Ryland, or Edmund. It was always one of the three.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 56