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

by Ethington, Rebecca

  The pain passed, and I felt him tense, waiting for me to say something. Still I waited; this had to be perfectly timed. I didn’t need to risk being heard. I waited, Talon’s heartbeat pulsing against my hand as I kept my palm against his neck.

  A groan and an exhale. Sain was awake.

  I could count it like clockwork if I tried, but I didn’t wait.

  “Don’t make any noise,” I whispered into his ear, hoping that he could understand me, that they could count my whispered mutterings as Ryland’s groans. “They beat you if you talk. I am okay. I love you.”

  I wished I could have said more, but my window closed as the scream of agony I had grown used to opened up through the jail. The sound echoed and grew, Sain’s whispered pleas adding to the noise as Talon clung to my hand, his fear at the sound evident.

  “It’s okay,” I said through the yells, hoping it was loud enough for Talon to hear, but no one else.

  “She’s okay, Ryland. No one is hurting you. You are safe. She is safe. Joclyn is safe. She loves you, Ryland. It’s okay.” Sain repeated the phrase continually, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. The footsteps were already approaching, and Sain’s words halted as he backed away from his friend.

  The grind of metal, the whimpering, the crying and the sound of flesh on flesh, I heard it all, and I felt Talon’s tears as he heard it for the first time. As silence took over the cell, Ryland’s breathing equalized, the whimpers leaving him and unconsciousness took over. The grind of metal repeated and then there was silence, the long silence that stretched into the black.

  I clung to Talon as Ryland’s breathing changed to the deep pulse of sleep. Sain joined him, and reluctantly, even I fell into sleep, the darkness giving me no other option. The brutal reality of my life gave me no other escape.

  It was the first night I dreamed since I had been imprisoned. I would have expected the dream to focus on the brutal torture of the little girl, but no, it was the meadow again. The girl danced through the daisies and poppies, her dress spinning as she twirled.

  I watched her as her image moved from one scene to another before it shifted to an old-style market. I fought the urge to laugh, my dreams taking me to a medieval fair. The girl ran before me, her hair laced with wildflowers as she weaved her way through the crowd, her body jumping around as if I was watching a scratched DVD.

  “Mama!” she yelled happily, and my heart clenched. Her voice was beautiful, so sweet and innocent. “They have chocolate, Mama! Papa, Papa, come see!”

  The image jumped. The Henry the Eighth wanna-be flashed as he smiled at me, his lips moving, but once again, no words came through. He suddenly appeared several feet in front of me, standing next to the little girl, pieces of chocolate in his hands.

  Papa? Mama? That couldn't be right. I couldn't have had a child. I wouldn't have forgotten that. Why would I have forgotten that? I pushed the need to know more aside and just focused on the girl, desperate to take something beautiful with me from the dream.

  “Here, Wynifred.” The man was suddenly closer as he handed me a large piece of chocolate. He smiled, and I felt my cheeks turn up in a laugh. No, no laughing. I wanted to look back to the girl, but I couldn’t, there was only the man. Once again, I had no control.

  The vision jumped again. This time the man was by my side, the girl back to dancing in the meadow.

  “We should go,” he said, his voice repeating what I had already heard. This scene, those words, this imagery, I had already had this dream before.

  “Go where?” my voice asked. I tried to fight the words, but they came automatically, whether I wanted them to or not.

  The image of the girl jumped, her dancing moving statically as she appeared and reappeared.

  “We can run.” I felt his hand on my shoulder. My body turned to face him, the pleading in his eyes cutting through me, but I knew the emotion wasn’t my own. I wanted to yell at him for taking my eyes away from the beautiful girl again.

  “He would find us,” my voice was simple, defeated.

  “He will kill her if we don’t.”

  “I know.”

  My vision flashed once, twice, and again and again. The images changed from the market, to the man in the meadow, a walk by the lake, and more—flash after flash.

  I wanted to scream for it to stop, but I had no control over these memories. The flashes continued until I woke up, screaming.

  My own voice filled the dungeon, Sain yelled something over my screams, and then Talon’s large hand clasped over my mouth. He pulled me against the bars, the gritty texture of his skin and the pain of the bars against my back alerting me to where I actually was and what danger I had just put myself in. My scream stopped as quickly as it had come.

  It was not my scream we had to worry about now. My yell had awakened Ryland. His animal instinct took over, and his wails filled the air that mine had so recently vacated. Talon tensed as Ryland yelled and howled. He clanged his chains against the bars and rammed his head into them repeatedly.

  “Let me at her!” he screamed, the sound of the metal mixing with his panic. “Hurt… hurt… hurt…”

  Talon grasped me tighter, his arms weak enough that it only felt like a gentle tug. He had heard Ryland scream before, but it had been nothing like this. Ryland’s panic at being awoken had opened up into a full blown attack. His messed up brain had unlocked, and he rambled and mumbled and pleaded and yelled.

  “I have to save her,” he howled, his chains colliding with the bars of his cell loudly. “Protect her… I have to hurt her…”

  “Leave him,” I heard Sain hiss through the dark, and my tension grew. I watched what little movement I could make out, Talon’s arms encircling me and holding me close to him, when a bright, yellow light suddenly ignited the prison.

  The light burned my eyes, and I shied away from it, my hands moving to cover my face in an attempt to keep the light out.

  “Who woke him up?” Cail hissed, making me withdraw into myself even further.

  No one answered him, Ryland’s continued screams ate up the sound.

  “Who screamed before Ryland did?” Cail asked again, the wicked pleasure in his voice evident even above Ryland’s screams.

  “You hurt her,” Ryland screamed through the silence of Cail’s unanswered question.

  I waited for the clunk of a chain, the hinge of a door. Nothing, but Ryland’s continued howls filled the damp air of our prison.

  Talon’s fingers dug into me as he tried to move me closer to him, the bars digging further into my back at his attempt.

  “What?” Cail asked, the mock disbelief in his voice unnerving. “No one is going to answer me?”

  “You killed her!” Ryland roared, the metal of his cell clanging once more before his screams turned to sobs. “Killed her… she’s gone… dead… dead…”

  “That’s all right,” he trilled, the wicked pleasure dancing in his voice. “I’ll find out anyway. More importantly, we have a new arrival in Prague. Did you know that?”

  Ryland had all but stopped now. His sobs turned to whimpers as he rocked himself back and forth with his hands clasped through his long hair. I could hear each step of Cail’s shoes against the ground as he paced in front of us, the sound blending with the gentle clicks of his tongue as he contemplated what to say next.

  “Oh, yes, our visitor has just come back from seeing Ilyan and Joclyn.” The single word woke Ryland up again.

  He jumped up, his hands hitting against the bars as he lunged for Cail.

  “Joclyn! Where is she? I need her! Let me kill! Love her… I love her…”

  “Ovailia just saw Joclyn, Ryland, and I guess Joclyn wants you back… do you want to go?” Cail’s voice was quiet as he turned to Ryland, and I felt my entire spine solidify. No. Cail was about to succeed, he had built a weapon and now was able to let it go.

  “Yes!” Ryland yelled, his voice cracking in desperation.

  “What are you going to do when you see her, Ryland?” Cail asked
. I curled inside of myself, not wanting to hear what was coming. “What are you going to do when you see her, when you see Ilyan’s arms around her?”

  Ryland’s breathing picked up as Cail spoke, his breath coming in deep heavy spurts as he threatened hyperventilation. I listened as the sound of his breathing turned into yells. The word ‘kill’ repeated over and over.

  “Good,” Cail sneered, the pride at a job well done evident in his voice. “Everything is coming together.”

  I heard the click of Cail’s foot against the bottom stair, the sound barely audible over Ryland’s panic attack and continued panting. That one click clenched inside of me, my body rocking in on itself before it snapped, sending me to my feet. Talon gasped at my movement, his body too weak to follow, to defend me.

  “I won’t let you do this, Cail.” Ryland stopped repeating his words, and Cail turned around, his dark eyes meeting mine as a sneer appeared on his lips.

  “Oh? And how are you going to stop me?” We stood facing each other, Cail’s dark eyes taunting me, warning me of what would come if I opened my mouth and did what I was planning. I knew better; he would do it anyway. I took the warning, magnified it, and sent it back to him, my eyes narrowing.

  “I won’t let you.”

  I could hear Talon’s whimper, feel his weak fingers on my ankle, but I ignored them. For my idea to work, it had to be me against Cail. I needed to get the knife, and we needed to warn Joclyn.

  “Won’t let me do what?” Cail was already enjoying this game. I plowed on.

  “You’re going to let him go and make him kill her, aren’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice as loud as possible. “You’re going to chicken out and make Ryland kill her for you.”

  Cail moved off the step and back in front of the cells. His hand wrapped around one of the bars of the door to my cell, his face pushed awkwardly against the narrow opening as he glared into me. His lips curled, and narrowed.

  “I don’t ‘chicken out’ Wynifred. Would you like me to remind you of that?”

  My heart clunked to a stop, the wretched thing forgetting to beat in its sudden panic. I ignored the pain in my chest and the desperate grab against my ankle. I ignored my better judgment and stepped forward, placing my face only millimeters away from his.

  “You’re weak, Cail,” I spat, saying the one thing I knew would always be his trigger, the vice that Edmund had implanted him with. “You are nothing without Edmund. You can’t even kill a little girl on your own.”

  I took another step forward, my hand extending toward the pocket of his jeans as he pressed himself against the bars, the door rattling ominously as his anger shook through him.

  “I can kill a little girl, Wynifred. Or do you not remember?”

  I sneered, careful to keep his focus on my face and not on what my fingers were slowly maneuvering out of the pocket of his pants and into my own.

  “Can you really?” I taunted as fear and hunger shook my legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand much longer, but that was okay, I had done what I needed to do.

  Cail’s lip curled as he shook the bars, his anger so close to the surface that even he could barely control it. I wanted to congratulate myself on my accomplishment. I had pushed him to this brink several times, but before, he was my loving brother. He would have never followed through then. Now, I was his enemy; I would be a punching bag.

  “Prove it.”

  I wanted to scream as the door swung open, his shaking body rushing into the cell. I held still, ready to take what was coming. Cail’s hand clasped around my neck as he pushed me against the wall, my feet lifted off the ground as he held me there. The strong grip of his hand against my throat cut off the airflow, the blood flow, and started to cut off my life.

  I heard Talon scream, and Sain plead. I heard their voices for one minute before the static took over, the blackness seeping into my vision.

  It started slowly on the outer edges, but all I could do was smile. I didn’t know why, but all I saw was the image of the beautiful girl. I heard Talon’s voice whisper that it was okay.

  As the black took over and zeroed in on Cail’s face, I saw my brother, the boy who had practically raised me. I saw the soft lines of his face, the dark purple sheen of his eyes. Strangely enough, I still loved him.

  One Hundred Six

  Wyn

  “Wynifred?” Talon’s voice was soft in my ear, his hand warm against my cheek.

  I moaned and tried to roll over, but my body wouldn’t respond. I stayed limp on the floor, my cheek pressed into the ground, and my eyes slowly opening to the green light that Sain held in his hands.

  “She’s awake,” Sain sighed, his voice quiet as he tried not to wake Ryland up.

  I blinked, letting my eyes adjust as I looked toward Sain. The intensity of his stare scared me. I wanted to look away. I wanted to move away from that look. But I couldn’t make my body do anything.

  Everything hurt.

  Talon grasped at my shoulder frantically, the pads of his fingers slipping on wetness and sending little pinpricks of pain down my spine.

  I tried to move again. This time, my body allowed me to roll onto my back. The movement was only half managed though and I landed hard as I half fell, half rolled onto the stone. I groaned as the impact sent a wash of agony through me. My teeth clenched in an attempt to keep the pain out of my voice. I wasn’t sure there was a part of me that didn’t hurt.

  “What happened?” I managed to squeak out, my voice catching on what felt like sandpaper lodged in my throat.

  “Cail beat you unconscious after you punched him, Wyn.” Talon’s voice was strained, the tone rough, making it obvious he had been crying.

  “I punched him?” I asked, the words barely escaping.

  I didn’t remember punching him. I only remembered being pinned against the wall and then blackness.

  I looked away from the filthy ceiling toward Talon. He lay on the floor of his cell, his body still pressed up against the bars, a new purple bruise forming on his cheek. I wanted to reach out and touch the dark mark, but couldn’t get my sore fingers to respond. Just seeing it there told me the story I knew Talon wouldn’t. Talon had yelled out, pleaded with Cail to stop hurting me, and in turn, he had been beaten, too.

  He looked at me with glistening eyes and moved his arm closer. His face screwed up in pain as he moved, his arm only making it halfway before it dropped to the stone, his body not strong enough to support it.

  “Yeah... and then he…” Talon’s voice caught, his hand still reaching toward me, not quite able to reach. “Are you okay?”

  I moved onto my side and pushed myself toward Talon as I heaved myself up to sit against the bars. Everything hurt as I moved, every joint, every bone, and every inch of skin that covered my body. Pools of wetness slipped over my skin, my own blood washing over me and leaving glistening trails of bright red to swirl around the jagged lines of black.

  I leaned against the bars where Talon lay, his arms wrapping around me. His lips pressed against my bare arm; wet from the tears of relief that moved down his face.

  “Why did you do that?” Talon hissed, his voice panicked and weak as he leaned heavily against the bars in an attempt to be close to me. “He could have killed you, Wyn.”

  I cringed as I leaned my head against the bars, the simple movement igniting yet another inferno of pain.

  “He’s going to kill, Joclyn,” I said simply, hoping that my statement would be enough to pacify him, but knowing it wouldn’t be.

  “And you wanted to join her?” Talon asked; Sain’s chuckle strangely out of place.

  “No, I wanted to save her.” I cringed as I shifted my weight, a loud groan escaping my lips as I pulled the long, red blade out of my pocket. I held it up, letting Sain’s dim, green light reflect off the surface, shattering a wicked prism of red around us.

  “No,” I heard Talon gasp, his fear and disbelief at what I held in my hands haunting.

  Sain, however, moved forward, his
hand grasping the bars as he tried to push through them, desperate to get through and reach what I held in my hands.

  “You can go in and warn her,” I said to Sain, his eyes widening as they flashed from the blade to me.

  “I can’t on my own,” he said simply, the energy not leaving his face. “But without Cail to meddle with his mind, Ryland might be coherent enough to get the message across. He has tried before, without the blade, but it has never worked.”

  I nodded my head once in understanding before moving forward, my body screaming as I moved. Talon remained silent as I shifted away from him, the blade stretched toward Sain as I gripped it in between my fingertips. His hand wrapped around it, his hand encompassing it as he held it against him like a precious stone.

  “Thank you, Wyn. We might be able to save my daughter now.”

  I nodded briefly and slowly moved back to rest against the bars of my cell, Talon’s arm wrapping around me from where he lay, too weak to pull himself to sitting.

  “My shield might be able to keep the scream at bay as we go in, but not as we exit. Just pray it holds.”

  I said nothing, I only watched as Sain lifted Ryland’s shirt, moving his hand over Ryland’s heart. He hesitated for only a moment before plunging the blade through, the two men screaming in unison before they blacked out, the green orb of light extinguishing the moment their screams did. I froze in the darkness, waiting for footsteps, knowing they would come eventually, but hoping the shield had masked the noise enough not to draw immediate attention.

  We had no guarantee that Joclyn would be sleeping. For all we knew, it was the middle of the day and we had hours to wait. Ryland and Sain needed all the time with her that they could get.

  “Please let them find her soon,” I said to myself, unable to keep the thought from entering my mind. “Please don’t let this have been for nothing.”

  We waited in silence, with no shield to give us the ability to speak and with no light to see. I shifted down to the cramped floor of my cell, letting my arm entwine with Talon’s through the bars, a silent prayer for safety on my lips.