The thick, useless, almost dead bits of magic that hid inside of me seeped away and into Ryland. My screams died down as the pain left with my magic, as I was left weak and helpless from the lack of power. I slipped out of Ryland’s arms and onto the ash covered floor.
“Dispose of it,” I heard Edmund say.
Ryland’s hands encompassed my head, placing pressure against my skull. His hands grew hot and his magic filled my skull with fire as he attempted to burn away my brain.
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. My body called out in pain as I moved, each shift of weight sending pain through me. I ignored it all, my focus only on finding 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 sure it was Ryland. But the arms were wrong. They were leaner, stronger. I pushed away from Ilyan’s arms, screaming out as the pain from my aching body became too much.
“Joclyn! What’s wrong?” Ilyan yelled above my screams, his eyes as wide as mine in his panic at being awoken.
“Ryland!” I yelled out again, not giving Ilyan an answer. I continued to scream and yell for Ryland as 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 was in my dream, he remembered me in the dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was a Tȍuha. A shared consciousness. I still had a chance to save him.
“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, but 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. I leaned into Ilyan as he began to sing. He sang the same song he had comforted me with the night he flew me away from Ryland.
The rough Czech words surrounded me as he sang over and over, soothing me back to sleep.
Three
“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 began 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 first got 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 first awoke 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 – I knew I might have passed away already.
I cringed at the thought.
I looked up to Ilyan again, unsurprised to find him watching me, his eyes lifted from his work.
“I was saying,” Wyn said 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 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!” I heard Talons voice break through the speaker phone, 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 but laugh 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. His magic pulsed into me.
“We don’t need your lungs to collapse today, do we?” he said low enough the phone couldn’t pick it up. He smiled sadly, a look I returned. I didn’t like the reminders I was going to die, but putting a light spin on it seemed to take the edge off. At least I wouldn’t die alone. I reached out, grabbed his hand, and held on. I needed contact, and I was learning to accept Ilyan. It was odd how the advanced knowledge of my death had made me desperate to know I wasn’t alone. That I wouldn’t die alone.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Wyn said 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 a bit 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 gave me. He let go of my hand and reached up to touch my cheek.
“Wynifred,” Ilyan interrupted, his eyes not leaving mine and his hand 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 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.
“So, tell me,” Ilyan began, and I knew what was coming.
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 bright inside of me. After all, on the
slim chance I survived this; I still needed to be ready. Either way it was still a good way to get my mind off of what was happening inside of me.
“What happens when two fire based, water bound orbs collide?”
“A fire wall.” I said, giving him the simplest answer.
“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 work.”
“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 the 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 weakly covering 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 taking my breath away.
“Ilyan?” I whispered his head turning toward me. “How much longer do I have?”
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 have what I can only relate to a tumor snaking its way up your spine. So, not long.” 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,” he said. “I think you need to say goodbye to Ryland too.”
“I can’t, Ilyan. You know I can’t.”
Ilyan moved his fingers away from my neck; he 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 can’t control my magic, Ilyan. You...”
“I will do it for you,” he cut me off, “and I will be here the whole time, keeping you alive. Safe.”
I hesitated, my eyes unwilling to leave the glistening surface of the ruby.
“Don’t you want to say goodbye to Ryland?” I looked away from the ruby and up to Ilyan. I did want to see Ryland again; but not the little boy in the Tȍuha, but my Ryland. I suppose, given the chance to say goodbye to either though, I would take it.
I nodded once in agreement.
“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 knew I would talk myself out of it if I waited too long. I nodded again before I lost my confidence.
“Good.” I felt Ilyan’s magic bubble and boil 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 now knew why Ilyan had said I was bleeding when I collapsed. It looked like I was holding a giant blood clot in the palm of my hand. I would almost believe it was too, if it wasn’t for the smell. The second it had appeared in my hand a foul smelling stench had filled the air and my stomach heaved in response.
I squirmed and attempted to pull my hand away and get the foul smelling stuff off me, but Ilyan held onto me, keeping my hand in one place.
“It’s okay, Silnỳ. It’s okay.”
“Is that really...”
“Your magic?” Ilyan finished for me. “Yes.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I said. 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 asked, wondering if that was what he had in mind.
“I’ve tried, but it did not work.”
“You’ve tried?” I asked, affronted.
“Yes,” he spoke simply, as if 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 expected nothing in return. I had never wanted him to get too close, but now I was glad he was here.
“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.
“Don’t leave me,” I begged.
“I promise I won’t.”
Reluctantly, 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 stood in the middle of the space 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 small five year old frame seemed to be glowing as I faced him, his blue eyes shining at seeing me there. Ryland as I knew 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 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 left 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, f
or 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 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, 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.”
“Goodbye?” he asked, and my face fell more.
“Yeah, I may not come back. I’m not sure. I’m... I’m very sick. My friend is trying to help me, but I am not sure it is going to work... I wanted to say goodbye, in case.” I felt the tears come and I cursed silently, I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to be weak anymore.
“You don’t look sick,” Ryland said.
“Not here, but where I come from I am very sick.”
Ryland screwed up his face like he didn’t believe me, but then seemed to think better of it. His face brightened a bit, but I could tell his smile was forced. I felt bad leaving him here alone. But, I didn’t know if I would come back. I was quite literally lying in Ilyan’s arms as he kept me alive long enough to say goodbye.
Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2) Page 3