Maiden of Fire

by Ishabelle Torry

  An allegation of murder named Ramona as the perpetrator, and it was his burden to examine all evidence, no matter how shifty or trivial he thought it to be. Jalomar opened his mouth to speak, but the accusation refused to come forth.

  “Jalomar, what's going on? Where'd you take Hope?”

  “I am sorry. But I have fair cause to restrain you and take the child into custody.”

  She ceased fighting. “Doubt it. But go ahead anyway.”

  “I need you to account for your whereabouts this day.”

  She sniffled, staring up at him expectantly. Tears escaped down her face. “Seriously? Why?”

  He gave her captured wrists a mild warning squeeze. “Please, Ramona. I need your acquiescence. Just this once. Promise you will at least listen to what I have to say, and I will release you.”

  She nodded slowly, and he reluctantly pushed himself off of her and stood. He offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. She shifted her legs, crossing and uncrossing her arms. Her body language revealed her growing anxiety. Jalomar cleared his throat when she took a step toward the door. “Do not try to run. I’ll only restrain you again. And this time I will not free you until we’ve had this conversation.”

  She titled her chin defiantly. “Not until you tell me where Kald took Hope. What about Breandra? Did you storm the stables, smack Gus around a bit, and take her into protective custody, too? Hmm?”

  Images of the horrific scene in question unfolded in Jalomar’s mind. Burnt of all flesh, Breandra’s blackened bones lay at the base of the servant’s quarters beneath the northern tower, her scorched locket the only clue to her identity. He opened his mouth to reveal the truth of his visit, but the words failed to come forth. Damn the Vespa. He wasn’t the man for this task. Not after Megan. She needed to hear it from someone who could offer compassion. Someone unconnected to the crime. “Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to Greselda first.”

  She brought a hand to her mouth. “What happened? Jalo, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “It's best if you hear it from someone else. Come. I will take you.”

  She approached with hesitant steps. A scream tore from her throat as she fell to the floor on her knees. “No! No! No! I. Read. Your. Mind. No! I refuse to fucking accept that. Breandra…” Her cries turned into wails. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Her lips quivered. She turned condemning eyes on him. “You thought I did it? You thought I did it!”

  “I only came to question you, Ramona. I did not believe you did it. But I was bound to question you by the evidence.

  She yanked a boot from her foot and threw it at him. It bounced off of his chest. “I hate you. I hope you rot in hell. Get out of my room!”

  Jalomar ignored her fit and held out a hand. “Nay. You will come with me.”

  “Screw you.”

  Why did she have to use such vulgar, yet oh so inviting language? It was all he could do to stop from picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder to carry her off to his chamber.

  Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. “Milord,” Kald burst through the doorway. “Milord! Breandra has returned with Gus! She is safe!”

  Jalomar's chest constricted. Breandra was alive…

  But whose body smoldered in the courtyard?

  “What?” Ramona leapt to her feet. “Jalo! Did you hear that?” She threw her arms around his neck. “He tells the truth! I can see it! I can see her in his mind following Gus into the stables!” She let out a squeal and pulled Jalomar down to her level. Her mouth covered his in a sloppy, albeit happy kiss. “She's okay,” she whispered. She then grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out of the door.

  Kald gawped at the open display. Jalomar gave her free rein of direction, passing Kald with a lopsided grin and a wink. “See to it that Greselda and Miori are told of the news and released from guard, for the time being.”

  Less than a moment before, Ramona was damning him to the lowest depths of hell. Now she tugged at him if he dared slack in stride. He absently followed her lead. It was apparent the maiden's powers were coming to fruition. This morning he'd received reports of her catching fire to the laundry, as well as a few shrubs in the garden—marking her the prime suspect in the burning body found hours later. And now she'd developed the ability to glean into a person's thoughts. Jalomar was no fool to believe the threshold of her majik neared, but was merely beginning. According to Greselda, Ramona's powers were sporadic at best, and beyond her control.

  They met Breandra, Gus, and Kald at the walkway leading inside the castle. Ramona embraced Breandra, sobbing hysterically. “Oh God! We thought you were dead!”

  “Why would you think that?” Breandra asked. “What happened?”

  Gus piped up. “Were we attacked, milord?”

  “Nay.” Jalomar clasped the young lads shoulder heartily. “All is fine, I warrant.”

  “No, it's not.” Ramona snorted. “There is still an unidentified dead body.” She turned accusing eyes on Jalomar. “Remember? The one you were gonna pin on me?”

  Breandra coughed into her fist. “Wait. Someone's been murdered? And you thought Ramona did it?”

  Jalomar rubbed the thin layer of stubble on his jawline. “Evidence suggests she still may have. The identity of the victim was mistaken, not the crime.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Even Kald shook his head.

  “Why did you think it was me?” Breandra asked, wild eyed.

  “What was assumed to be your locket was found on the body.” Jalomar searched Breandra's neck. “Where is your necklace, milady?”

  Breandra collapsed against Ramona, her body rocked with tears. “Oh. God. No. I gave it to Lena. She admired it so much, so I gave it to her as a present a few days before…before Mrs. Steele's attack.”

  Damnation. The mystery of Lena's disappearance had been solved. Although he'd long suspected her death, the sudden appearance of her body in flames caused severe unrest. It was clear Dilseacht had been penetrated by the enemy.

  “Milord! Milord!”

  Gerry, the youngest of the Haltons, charged inside the keep as if the Shema were breathing its toxic breath at his heels, barreling into the small group before crumpling at Jalomar's feet. “Milord! You must come quickly! The town be burning, and my pa is stuck inside the forge!”

  Ramona sighed heavily. “Suppose that gets me off the hook.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The entire southern side blazed. A thick, black cloud of smoke wafted across Dilseacht, permeating the air as the heat of the raging flames carried on the wind. Ramona ushered the fleeing women and children through the castle doors to Greselda, who directed them into the main hall. Several minutes passed and no more villagers came. Watching from the safety of the courtyard proved too difficult; patience had never been one of Ramona's virtues. She made a dash for the southern tower. Surely Jalo wouldn’t be too mad? It was all hands-on-deck, right? Right.

  The smell of charred skin assaulted her nose as she drew closer. She gagged, barely swallowing the vomit creeping up the back of her throat. She easily located Jalomar through the smoky haze, recognizing his deep voice as he barked his orders. Go figure. “Hey!” she called out to him. “I can help. Tell me what to do!”

  “Fall back to the castle, woman!” Jalomar shouted over his shoulder without a backward glance. “It’s not safe so close.”

  Ignoring his command, Ramona approached Jalomar and the group of men surrounding him. They were huddled over a mound of crumbled stone, wrenching pieces of debris away with feverish speed. A petite, burnt hand thrust through the mortar, startling everyone. “Shit! There's someone under there!”

  “Aye,” Jalomar acknowledged. “If you're going to disregard my order, the least you can do is help unbury her.”

  Ramona inhaled sharply. The smoke entered her lungs, sending her into a coughing fit. She moved to the opposite side of the blowing wind. As the men continued to dig out the rubble, screams rose to the surface. Ramona covered her ears with he
r hands and stared stupidly as the men continued their rescue effort.

  The horrifying shrieks of the woman below provoked flashbacks of the bombardment. The stench of burnt flesh added to the lucidity of her waking nightmare. What the hell had she been thinking leaving the safety of the castle? Run. But her legs refused to cooperate. “I can't be here!” The commotion of the spreading flames and hectic shouts of the men trying to control the catastrophe drowned out her cries.

  The air smoldered Ramona as ash and chunks of debris rained down, carried by the wind. Floating red embers ignited the straw-covered neighboring homes. The seamstress' cottage was the first to spark into a roaring inferno, and like dominos, the structures lit one by one as the burning cloth scattered.

  “Fall back! Seek the courtyard!” Jalomar ordered.

  The town was a loss. The screams of the woman entombed beneath the pile of rubble quieted; her hand fell limp. Ramona's gut wrenched. All the powers of the universe at her disposal, and she was just as helpless as the trapped woman.

  The blue guy. The Vespa controlled the elements. Water was an element, wasn’t it? Closing her eyes tightly, she pictured the desert where'd she last seen the Vespian priest. Sharp pains stabbed at her head as the dirt beneath her spun out of existence to be replaced by white sand.

  Azer met her on the other side. He bowed regally. “I see you have mastered the summoning, Maiden. What is it you desire of the Vespa?”

  She fell to the ground like a lone leaf from a tree being guided by the wind’s invisible hand. “Ramona!” Jalomar shoved his way through the dispersing crowd, Kald at his heels.

  Dropping to his knees, Kald pressed an ear to her chest. “Her eyes move as if she dreams, milord. And she breathes deeply.”

  Jalomar knelt at her other side. He placed two fingers against her neck to confirm Kald's assessment. A strong pulse beat back. He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding until then. “This woman shall be the death of me,” he grumbled.

  Roguish, hazel eyes snapped upward. Kald grinned knowingly. “Oh, milord?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Jalomar snapped defensively. It was nothing at all what the entire castle believed. Ramona hated him, only bound by their merged destinies and one condemning prophesy. He could have her no more than he could summon the water to quell the flames raging across his land.

  “Milord!” Kald exclaimed. “She wakes!”

  Ramona opened one eye, blinking against the daylight. Then the other. She rubbed her temples. “Sonsofabitch. I feel like the Coyote. Did you see a freaking anvil hit me in the head?”

  As usual, her timeline language escaped his comprehension. He helped her to sit. Steady arms kept her from wobbling to either side. “We must go. The fire spreads. The town has fallen.”

  “Those lazy assclowns.” She rolled her eyes. “Suppose I have to figure this out myself, too.” With Jalomar's aid she stood. “Okay. Give me room, please.”

  Kald backed away on her command. Jalomar frowned. “Nay. The time to abandon has come.”

  “Pfft. The fire won't hurt me. You though…yeah. Just stand back.” With feet spread and arms raised, she squinted in concentration. “I summon the power of water to douse the flames below!”

  Red bolts rocketed upward from her fingertips. They crashed one by one onto the already burning buildings, while also igniting a few that’d remained untouched—until now. Her arms fell to her side; her nose twitched and she bit at her lip. “Oops.”

  “Oops?” Jalomar echoed, shaking his head. Unbelievable. The already intense heat magnified with the added burst. “Come on, Ramona. Any more and you will burn down the entire continent.”

  “No!” She stomped a foot. “I saw Azer. He told me I could do this!”

  Ramona raised her arms once more, and Jalomar dropped low, preparing to tackle the stubborn woman. He'd not let her endanger his people while she attempted to experiment with majik she’d clearly yet to understand. It wouldn't be the first time he'd carried her away kicking and screaming.

  A droplet of cool moisture stopped Jalomar from leaping. An anomalous force of darkened clouds moved in overhead. A waterfall of rain poured down and coated the town, drenching everyone below. The flames instantaneously smoldered, neutralizing the threat.

  Holy Vespa! She did it.

  Kald broke into loud whoops.

  Ramona whirled around. “I don’t think I did that.”

  “Aye! Of course you did, Maiden!” Kald cheered.

  “Nope. Wasn’t me. I'm certain of it.”

  Ramona's soaked clothing clung to every sweet curve. The thin tunic accentuated the swell of full breasts against the now see through fabric. She still wore the strange cupped garment beneath. She shifted beneath his stare, bringing his attention to the amused tilt of her mouth. He shrugged his shoulders at their questioning faces. “Then who? Azer?”

  “Fat chance there,” Ramona scoffed, crossing her arms over the taut nipples he was visually enjoying. “As I said earlier. Lazy assclowns, all of 'em. Wouldn’t lift a finger. Some crapola about not interfering or something.”

  A familiar, serene voice drifted from behind. “Surely you can understand their dilemma of knowing what is to come?”

  “Milady Cynthe.” Kald dropped to one knee, his smitten gaze worshiping the sylphlike goddess.

  Ramona snorted her contempt. “Their dilemma? If they really cared, they could have stopped it. Everything from happening. You Know. The whole fucking prophesy shit. No need for me and my uncontrollable Fire of Death Fingers. Maybe even the goddamned asteroid as well.”

  Cynthe acknowledged Kald with a slight head bow, her gaze skimming over the confrontational maiden to curtsy before Jalomar. “I am sorry I did not arrive much sooner.” Her cheeks pinkened in a telltale glow. “I was otherwise preoccupied.”

  Muttering something incoherent, Kald dismissed himself with a wistful glimpse toward Cynthe. Ramona patted him on the back as he passed. “Hey, think you could turn the sprinklers off?”

  Cynthe snapped her fingers and the downpour stopped.

  Ramona pushed her sopped hair clear of her face. “That’s better. Wanna move this meeting to the inside? Wet clothes suck when they stick in your ass crack. All kinds of nasty chafing going to happen in all my crevices if I don’t dry off soon.”

  Jalomar agreed with a nod and a despondent sigh, certain Ramona had finally superseded her limit of vulgarity. “Ladies first.” When Cynthe arched a brow toward Ramona, he had to chuckle.

  Ramona took the lead. Cynthe looped her arm into Jalomar’s as they headed toward the castle. Shifting rubble clattered nosily as they passed the mound Jalomar and his men had been trying to lift minutes before. He eyed the fresh tomb with a heavy heart, swallowing the hard lump at the back of his throat. How was he going to explain to Gunther that his only daughter, Greta, lie dead beneath the rock? He’d failed to rescue her.

  Another cascade of rock tumbled down the side. The massive amounts of water summoned by Cynthe had weakened the structure, allowing the top layers to slide away. Unfortunately, it was too late to matter. At least it would aid in recovering Greta’s body. He stared at the lifeless hand, sending a prayer to the Vespa. May your spirit be freed.

  “Nay. It cannot be!” Kald exclaimed.

  The protruding hand contorted into a desperate claw, scratching at the surface. Panicked screams arose. Jalomar leapt for the pile. “Greta!”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The scene unfolded in slow motion as Jalomar bolted to the nearby pile. Dumbstruck, Ramona stared at the critically blistered hand reaching out to grasp Jalomar’s wrist. He shook the woman’s hold free and continued to dig, tossing large chunks to the side with exasperated speed. Ramona’s body hummed with renewed energy, her fingertips tingled with familiar anticipation as her power once again awakened in the midst of chaos. She clenched her fists tightly, shoving them deep inside her pockets. I only make things worse when I try to help.

  Cynthe approached
with quiet steps, placing a hand on Jalomar’s shoulder. “Move aside, milord.”

  He shook his head no, refusing to stop his efforts of removing the confining stone. “I can still save her!”

  “Nay, you cannot. But I can.”

  Jalomar growled deep in his throat, and reluctantly stepped aside. Dirt and grime covered him from head to toe; his breathing labored. Narrowed lips and eyes conveyed his cynicism. “We are wasting time.”

  A slew of Jalomar’s thoughts rushed Ramona at once.

  Failure.

  My kingdom is falling around me, and I’ve naught the means to save it.

  Labelle has somehow pierced the protective veil on Dilseacht. Everyone is in danger.

  Can I truly trust Cynthe?

  Ramona swore she saw a slight glow surround him, a pale yellow before darkening to a murky gray. It disappeared with the next blink. She shook it off as a play of light. Taking Jalomar by the hand, she gently tugged until he wavered a few steps back, clear of Cynthe’s immediate area. “Let her try.”

  Stormy sea blue eyes bore into hers; anger and pain emanated from his soul and touched hers. The overwhelming feeling gave her pause. For the first time since their appointed destinies at the hand of the Vespa, she sensed a real connection. The instinct to soothe him engulfed her, kindling to life in the form of heat in her palms. She smiled up at him, despite the fear his clenched jaw and fierce gaze invoked. His conscience still raged tumultuously, and she was forced to close her mind to any further thoughts. When he turned his focus back to Cynthe, Ramona placed her hands on his chest, willing the heat to pacify his rising frustration. “Let her try,” she reiterated firmly.