Samara's Peril (Ilyon Chronicles Book 3)

by Jaye L. Knight

  “This doesn’t feel right,” he said, “staying here.”

  “I know, but your men might need you.”

  Kaden grimaced. “Just be careful, all right?”

  Kyrin looked into his troubled eyes. It wasn’t hard to guess that they were both thinking of their father. Little good had ever come out of their experiences in Valcré, and this was too much like the morning they had watched their father ride away. “I will.”

  They hugged tightly for a long moment.

  “I’ll be praying hard for you and Jace,” Kaden said just before they parted.

  “Thank you.”

  She managed to give him a quick smile, and then mounted Ivy. Looking over at the others, her gaze fell on Gem. The poor dragon looked lost and confused without Jace. Kyrin’s heart squeezed.

  “Gem.”

  The dragon’s head perked up, her bright eyes locking on Kyrin.

  “Réma,” she commanded.

  Gem turned, ready to follow. Kyrin let out a long breath and fought back the constant sting of tears. Would they catch up to Jace’s captors, or would they bring him all the way to Valcré? How would they ever save him once he was in Daican’s clutches? Poor Jace would have no idea they had even tried.

  “We will rescue him.”

  Kyrin jerked around to face Elon and His solemn, but compassionate gaze. Slowly, she nodded and tried to banish her fears and doubts. After all, if she couldn’t trust Him face to face, how weak must her faith be?

  - Part Three -

  Valcré

  Jace hung his head and let his sore shoulders droop. The ache of holding his muscles so tense burned through his arms. Weariness had never weighed so heavily on him, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. Not while in the air. He swallowed to relieve his parched throat, and winced at the pain of severe bruising around his neck. The last time he had faced such prolonged ill-treatment was as Jasper’s slave. Five days of only Falcor and Hyde for company left him drowning in despair. He had lost hope of ever seeing another friendly face.

  Releasing a heavy breath, he glanced at the sun sinking in the west. This glimpse of the surrounding terrain sparked his memory. He looked ahead, past Hyde’s broad shoulder, and spied Valcré in the distance. His stomach sank the full three-hundred feet below them, but resignation settled in its place.

  Fast approaching the city, Jace scraped together any little strength and resolve he could muster, and struggled to shake off the debilitating heaviness of sleep deprivation. Within minutes, the buildings of Valcré passed beneath them, and the two flying beasts set down in the courtyard of Auréa Palace. Jace’s breath caught as he looked up at the splendorous sight, but the chill that raced down his spine stole away any sense of awe.

  Hyde turned to release Jace’s bonds from the saddle. Moving gingerly, Jace dismounted and sucked in his breath as pain lanced through his chest and abdomen. He had collected a large assortment of aches and bruises, courtesy of Hyde and his rude awakenings when Jace dreamed every night.

  Falcor walked up to him and grabbed the rope that had become a permanent fixture around his throat. The crete never grew tired of dragging him around like a dog. No doubt he would miss it now that he was handing Jace over to Daican. It fed his egotistical crete pride and superiority.

  Jace followed, his heart pumping hard as they walked to the palace entrance and up the marble stairs. Dread dragged at his feet, but the constant threat of the rope around his neck prevented him from slowing. When the guards admitted them, Jace’s eyes grew wide at the sight before him—rich splendor unlike anything he had witnessed before—but he had no chance to stand and gawk at it.

  The magnificence of the palace swiftly lost its grandeur, and every step twisted new knots in Jace’s stomach. Daican was here, somewhere close by, and Jace would soon face him. He had thought he was ready, but uncertainty flooded in like cold river water. Would he be as brave as Kyrin in facing their greatest enemy?

  Down a long hall, they passed through a set of wide double doors into the throne room. Jace gazed across the expansive tile floor to the empty gold thrones, and then up to the towering arched ceiling. The room was empty and silent, save for the three of them and their echoing footsteps. Falcor paused and turned to Hyde.

  “Find the emperor and let him know we have a prisoner from Landale.”

  The man nodded, and left as Falcor led Jace down the center of the room, stopping near the raised dais at the end. Silence fell so fully that Falcor could probably hear Jace’s heart knocking. Jace took in the details of the emperor’s ornate throne, and then looked just beyond it. Kyrin had stood there once—walked the halls, lived in this very palace. He could almost imagine her standing there. Imagine the despair in her expression. His chest constricted. She must be devastated right now, and it was his fault for leaving.

  A side door opened, drawing his attention from these thoughts, and his eyes met a pair the color of fresh honey. Their warmth prompted the smallest spark of desperate hope inside Jace, but it died immediately, snuffed out by the cold glint of satisfaction that appeared as the emperor approached. Jace ground his teeth. How could he be such a fool as to, even momentarily, be taken in by the man’s deceptive appearance? He glanced past him, tensing at the sight of Sir Richard. Jace would never forget what the man had done and threatened to do to Kyrin and Kaden.

  “What do you have here for me?” Emperor Daican asked in a smooth, rich voice. He stopped before Jace, sizing him up.

  “Kneel,” Falcor commanded.

  Jace refused. His strength might be failing, but so help him, he would not willingly kneel before this man. He braced himself. A moment later, Falcor yanked the rope. The pain brought tears to Jace’s eyes, and he was on his knees before he knew it, choking for breath.

  “This is the half-ryrik from the Landale group,” Falcor said. “Jace.”

  “Ah.” The emperor began circling him, repeating his name.

  Fighting past the pain that throbbed mercilessly in his throat, he looked up. Another person had entered the room behind Sir Richard—a young woman about Kyrin’s age. Her striking emerald eyes put the image of a snake in his mind—cunning, cruel, and twisted. She appeared to enjoy this immensely. No wonder Kyrin always spoke of her with such dread.

  Daican stopped in front of Jace, blocking his view of the princess Davira. Jace’s gaze climbed to the emperor’s.

  “Falcor tells me you and the Altair girl are close. How close? Friends?” Daican’s voice lowered suggestively. “Lovers?”

  Jace scowled, his skin prickling as heat rose up his neck. The emperor could say whatever he wanted about him, but to suggest such a thing about Kyrin urged Jace to choke him.

  Daican smirked at his reaction. “Friends, then, I take it.” He started circling again like a bird of prey. “How is she? Concerned about you, I would imagine.”

  Jace worked to moderate his breathing, but each breath came hard. He hated himself for what Kyrin must be going through. He had promised he would never leave for good. This hadn’t been his choice, but would she ever know that? Or would she live the rest of her life believing he had broken that promise?

  Daican’s voice remained smooth and conversational, masking his ill will. “Tell me, how did Miss Altair react to her father’s death?”

  Jace’s whole body went taut, and he nearly shook in an effort to contain the fire that flared inside him.

  “It destroyed her, didn’t it?”

  Jace glared at him. He had never seen Kyrin so broken as in the days that followed her father’s execution. The memories from their time on the mountain just north of here were still hard to bear.

  Daican’s lips curled in a malicious grin. “You certainly are part ryrik. It’s plain in your eyes. So much anger, so much hatred… but maybe something more? Something like… love?”

  Jace’s glare slipped before he could stop it. The last thing he wanted was to supply the emperor with more fuel, but it was too late.

  Daican released a low chuck
le. “Oh, I’m right, aren’t I? You do love her.” He laughed again, glancing at his daughter, whose grin was even more unnerving. “That is interesting. And how is that working out?”

  Jace swallowed, his throat burning.

  “I imagine an animal like you doesn’t have much of a chance at that sort of life.”

  Jace ground his teeth together. He shouldn’t listen, but trapped here in this chamber with these men stripped his ability to fight.

  “That is what you are,” Daican pressed on. “An animal. Maybe your friends have said otherwise, but they are only a few. The whole world knows what you are.”

  Jace hung his head and closed his eyes tightly. The words were so similar to those that had been pounded into him growing up. He struggled to shut them out, but they attacked relentlessly.

  “You don’t belong with them. Do you really think they’ll miss you when you’re gone?”

  Jace let out a shuddering breath. He knew the answer—he did—but the doubts were so heavy.

  Daican’s voice changed now, subtly, but carried commanding force. “Why don’t you tell me what your group is planning in Samara and how to find your camp, and I will let you die a quick and painless death.”

  A quick death in exchange for the lives of the only people who had cared for him, given him hope, made life worth living. Weak as he was, he would still endure endless torture for them, for Kyrin. Sitting back on his heels, he looked up at the emperor and set his face in defiance. He wouldn’t say a word to this man.

  The emperor’s expression hardened as well. “Your choice.”

  He motioned to Richard, who stepped forward and grabbed the rope. Jace pushed to his feet as fast as he was able to prevent the man from strangling him. Leaving little slack, Richard strode out of the throne room with Jace and a couple guards in tow. At the far end of the palace, they opened a heavy door that led down a deep staircase to the dungeon.

  The drop in temperature and the dampness sent a chill skittering along Jace’s skin. The scent of blood and decay permeated the air, choking him, and his stomach recoiled. Down a long, dark corridor, they arrived at a line of cells. No fellow prisoners occupied them, but perhaps they were elsewhere in this horrible place, or kept at one of the prison camps they had heard rumors of back at camp.

  Richard opened one of the barred doors and jerked Jace forward. He stumbled into the cell, and the door slammed shut behind him. Turning to his captors, Jace watched them walk away, carrying the only torch. The light faded and finally disappeared with their distant footsteps.

  Jace looked around the cell. It was empty save for a tattered, rat-chewed blanket near the back. He shuddered. Though not completely dark, the thick and heavy air reminded him eerily of the dreams that wouldn’t leave him.

  He shook his head as if it could rid him of such thoughts and sank down at the back of the cell in exhaustion. His heavy breaths echoed around him. No other sounds of life reached his ears. His stomach pinched. Falcor had fed him just enough to keep him going, but never enough to satisfy his hunger.

  Reaching up with his still-bound hands, Jace took hold of the rope around his neck and carefully worked it loose. He lifted it over his head and cast it away as if it were a venomous snake. The raw skin around his throat burned. With a long breath, he leaned back, too spent to try to free his hands. It wouldn’t matter anyway.

  For several minutes, he just sat and listened to his heartbeat, but then his thoughts roamed to the future. Torture and execution were certain. Pain he did not fear, but death . . .

  His heart missed a beat. Once he had not feared it, but with such uncertainty and the plague of his nightmares, it now left him cold and desperate. But what hope did he have? His friends and any rescue were hundreds of miles away. He may have an ally or two in this palace, but what could they do for him?

  No. Rescue wasn’t coming for him. Best accept that now.

  The minutes stretched out long and lonely in the dungeon. Occasionally, Jace caught the pattering and scratching of rats, but otherwise all was still. The unnatural quiet ate at his mind, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour before footsteps and light reappeared.

  The torches drew near, and Jace tensed in recognition of Richard. No doubt the pain would soon begin. He gathered his will to endure it.

  Two of the three guards opened the cell and strode in. Grabbing Jace by the arms, they dragged him to the center of the cell, where they left him on his knees as Richard stepped inside. Jace looked up at him and maintained a stony expression. They wouldn’t get anything from him.

  A long silence drew out between them before Richard’s cold voice filled the stillness. “You were part of the Altair twins’ escape in Landale.”

  Jace just stared at him, but Richard went on.

  “Then you can tell me who this arrow belongs to.”

  The man revealed a dark shafted arrow with blue fletching. Jace’s heart gave a thump of recognition. It was one of his.

  Richard watched him closely. “You know who it belongs to, don’t you?”

  Jace swallowed, but kept his mouth shut.

  “This arrow has caused me considerable… discomfort.” Richard flexed the fingers of his right hand, and then bent down, looking Jace in the eyes. “Whose is it?”

  Jace held his cold gaze, never wavering. Richard rose with a snort and rolled the arrow between his fingers.

  “Well, I may just exact my revenge on Miss Altair when she’s caught. It may not be her arrow, but she is the reason I was there.”

  Mention of Kyrin and vengeance by this horrible man stalled Jace’s heart. “It’s mine.” He had never wanted to speak, but he couldn’t remain silent if it meant danger for Kyrin. Besides, what did it matter? He would be tortured regardless.

  Richard snorted. “You would say that to protect her.”

  Jace shook his head. “The arrow is mine. I shot you from your horse in your right shoulder as you tried to charge one of our men.”

  The skepticism in Richard’s expression faded, his jaw hardening. “So it was you.”

  Stewing over this information, Richard walked slowly around him. Jace breathed hard in anticipation of the revenge that would surely come. One tense moment passed, then two.

  Searing pain almost forced Jace face first to the cell floor. He couldn’t restrain a cry as Richard drove the arrow deep into his shoulder, sending burning waves across his back and down his arm.

  “How does it feel?” the man growled near his ear.

  He twisted the shaft and dug the arrowhead deeper into Jace’s shoulder. Jace choked on the pain and groaned through his teeth, his eyes flooding with tears. He curled over, his face almost to his knees, but couldn’t escape the agony ripping through him. Richard viciously wrenched the arrow before jerking it out again. It tore another cry and Jace’s breath from his throat.

  Jace gasped and tried to straighten, but the pulsating pain left him dizzy. Richard bent in front of him again, and held the arrow before his face. The arrowhead glistened red, and drops rolled down the shaft.

  “A fitting trophy, is it not? I’ll display it in my office.” Richard turned for the door, but paused. “I nearly forgot. Something to make your stay in Auréa more comfortable.”

  Jace slowly raised his head. One of the guards placed a shallow metal basin in the hall across from his cell. Using the torch, he lit the contents, and white smoke curled up around the basin. Jace’s already pounding heart kicked up another notch.

  “Being you’re half ryrik, this should be very interesting.”

  Richard slammed the door shut. As they marched away, Jace stared at the smoke growing like a phantom outside his cell. Already the acrid scent of incense tickled this throat. Gathering his strength, he gritted his teeth and moved farther back in the cell. He let his breath out in a hiss. His arm was leaden and his fingers numb, but pain jolted through his shoulder at the slightest movement. Blood warmed his back.

  The first of the smoke cloud rolled through the bars of the
cell. Jace lifted his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth, fighting the pain it caused. But how long could he really protect his lungs once the incense saturated the air?

  The burning in Jace’s throat and the heaviness of his lungs told him his attempt to filter clean air was failing. Smoke filled the corridor, searing his eyes. Hazy, suffocating darkness hung around him, becoming ever more like his dreams. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut it all out. Time passed unmarked by all but the steady rhythm of his heart. The dry irritation in his throat increased until he couldn’t hold back a cough. A groan cut it short as pain ripped through his back, leaving him breathless.

  Somewhere in the midst of the struggle, footsteps came again. Torchlight wavered in the haze. Richard returned, but this time Daican had joined him. They stopped at the door and peered in as if he were a caged wild animal they were experimenting on.

  “So, it does affect you,” Daican said. “Perhaps you’ve reconsidered your unwillingness to supply me with useful information.”

  Jace just glared at him.

  The emperor stepped closer to the door, his eyes narrowed cruelly. “How long do you think it will take before you’re suffocating in your own blood?”

  Jace swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t let the man get to him.

  “Is this how you want to go?” Daican persisted. “To stay down here and slowly suffocate? Because it means nothing to me. What do I need with another public execution of a ryrik?” The emperor gripped the bars of the cell. “We can end this here and now if you cooperate or… you can drag this out slowly and painfully for however many hours you think you have left.”

  A tremor passed through Jace. It wouldn’t be many hours before he could no longer breathe, but he would not give in. He lowered his shirt from his face for just a moment.

  “I won’t tell you anything.”

  Daican’s jaw ground tight, but he still spoke in a controlled tone. “Perhaps not about your camp, but tell me of this Elon.”