No, it wasn’t, Keely thought. People weren’t made to take a lot of things. The sicknesses caused by pollution that affected DNA from the previous millennium were proof enough. Science didn’t need to develop more ways to injure and maim. Nor did the world need power-hungry, dominating individuals set on destroying the essence of man’s free spirit along with his body.
Keely shuffled a foot forward. Mercy held her tight about the waist. Keely slid another foot forward.
“Yes, that’s it, Miss. You’re doing just fine.”
The gown billowed slightly with the movement, caressing her thigh like a lover’s whisper. Under different circumstances, the dress would be a beautiful tool for seduction. She frowned. There was only one man she was interested in seducing and before their capture seduction was the furthest thing from her mind. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would even see Zion alive again, much less be intimate with the sea god.
They crossed the floor to the vanity, and Mercy helped her sit. Keely’s hair had gone wild in the past twenty-four hours. Mercy carefully began to brush the long strands out, starting at the end and working her way up to Keely’s scalp until her red tresses shone in the mirror’s reflection.
Mercy’s deft fingers arranged her hair in a loose bun, wisps of hair artistically arrayed along her cheek and nape. A chime rang in the room, the sound a mechanical tinkle trying to imitate champagne glasses. “There you go, Miss. I’m sorry I don’t have more time. His Grace calls us to attend to him now.”
Keely swallowed hard. Gazing at her reflection an odd sense of sadness filled her with melancholy. She looked beautiful and it was all for the wrong man.
All she could do now was bide her time and wait for the opportune moment to strike. She uttered a prayer for Zion’s safety and, with halting steps, relied on Mercy to help her meet her date with destiny.
Chapter Twenty-two
With each step, Keely gained strength. By the time she’d reached the sitting room, she leaned on Mercy for show rather than need. The dim room didn’t reveal much in the way of new details. The furniture had been rearranged recently, if the scrape marks she saw in the floor were an indication. The curtains had been pushed aside and a glance out the window revealed the lush green of her Ireland.
“Where are we?” she whispered to Mercy.
“Just outside Doonbeg.”
Keely exhaled, a happy sigh that reached deep into her heart. The breath was cleansing and invigorating. She was so near to home she could almost breathe in the scent of her small part of the Atlantic. Joy energized her spirits. Surely, she had an advantage here that Amidurah didn’t profit from. “Do I hear water?”
“Aye, Miss. That would be the sound of the Doonbeg River you hear.”
Keely smiled. This was a wonderful boon she hadn’t anticipated.
Amidurah’s voice intruded on the fledgling happiness she momentarily held. “Ah, here is Ms. Shane.”
His words crawled over her skin like maggots eating rotten flesh. Her stomach twisted in disgust. She locked her jaw and forced the rising bile to remain at bay. Jitters made her arms tremble.
“It’s all right, Miss,” Mercy crooned. She patted Keely’s arm in a show of concern.
Slowly, Keely moved her gaze from the scene outside the window to the man who’d spoken. She registered a man of average looks and age. Dark eyes, brown hair. Nothing about him appeared out of the ordinary. Nothing screamed that this was a man who’d taken lives without a drop of remorse, the man responsible for the death of her parents.
Mercy continued to aid Keely as they walked forward to the chair where Amidurah sat. The sorcerer stood. Even his height was average. He extended his hand toward her. “I see you are recovering from your injury. Has Mercy treated you well?”
The conversation Mercy had shared regarding her brother rushed to mind. Mercy, who’d shown her respect and kindness, carried her own burden of grief. For Mercy’s sake, she would carry out the charade until justice could be done. She’d not see the gentle-souled woman suffer any on her behalf.
Keely took Amidurah’s proffered hand. Soft and smooth, the skin of his hand touching her sent Keely into another round of heebie-jeebies.
She beamed at Mercy. “Yes, Mercy was marvelous. The value of her services can’t be calculated.”
Between the help given by Mercy and the sorcerer, Keely managed to sit in a stuffed chair matching Amidurah’s red one. The self-proclaimed dictator of the world sat and Mercy continued to stand near her chair, like an overprotective mother.
“You look exceptionally lovely this evening.”
Amidurah definitely creeped her out. How did he know how she looked compared to other evenings? The gauzy material he’d selected for her gown left little to anyone’s imagination. Domnu help her if she got wet. Once she’d confronted the man, she’d get out of the revealing clothing. Then she’d find Zion and attempt to resume her life.
“Not talkative tonight?”
She shook her head, knowing she should have replied to his compliment. It was impossible to sit here in this chair and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary, not when she knew the sorcerer would eventually be looking for his pound of flesh from her.
“She’s still recovering Your Grace. If you ask me, those newfangled weapons are far too harsh.”
The icy tone of Amidurah’s voice cloaked Keely like a frozen cape. “Yes, well, Mercy, no one did ask you.”
Keely took a deep breath and prepared to verbally defend her helper. A slight movement of Amidurah’s hand stayed her words.
“Let the festivities begin.” The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes.
Perhaps their conversation was being broadcast. Keely didn’t know for sure, but a moment later, several burly men entered the room and removed the larger pieces of furniture.
When the room was as clear as they apparently thought necessary, Keely watched them haul in something that oddly resembled a wrestling mat. Apprehension raced along her newly wakened nerves. This was not good.
“Bring in the prisoners.”
All her instincts went on full alert. Zion had arrived with her. Was he one of the prisoners Amidurah referred to? Who was the other?
Her worst fears were realized a moment later. Zion was shoved forward by one of Amidurah’s henchmen, followed by Michael. Michael? Keeley squinted, trying to make sure her eyes weren’t suffering some after effect of the stunner. Michael was a prisoner too?
Zion looked awful. A bruise colored the area around his left eye, and his arm bore an ugly welt. She’d seen a mark like that before. Doubilet had borne such marks from an electric cane on his body.
She closed her eyes and attempted to calm herself. How could Amidurah expect a fair fight when Zion had been tortured and weakened?
With the seriousness of a world leader, Amidurah spoke. “Here are the rules. The first to reach twenty-one points loses. A pin of the shoulders is two points against the man pinned. Partially off the mat, three points. A punch knocking your opponent to the floor is five points against the fallen. If you’re completely off the mat and pinned seven points is added to your debit. My rule is final.”
Keely exhaled a pent up breath. Under such a system, Zion had an excellent chance of defeating Michael despite his previous beating.
“Is there anything either of you would like to say?”
Michael stepped forward. “I will defeat this and any other enemy who deigns to raise his hand against you, Your Grace.”
There was determination in Michael’s eyes. Fanaticism flared in their depths. A willing spirit would make Zion’s efforts to win more difficult.
Zion had to win. She didn’t want to think about the potential consequences of him losing to Michael. Fear for his safety churned within her. “Your Grace?”
Amidurah bestowed a condescending smile on her. “Yes.”
“I beg you, stop this, please.” She swallowed, trying to buy time in order to find the words that would set Zion free.
“You want your followers to know you’re compassion as well as just.”
“You beg for the life of the prisoner?”
“Yes, yes,” Keely replied without hesitation.
Amidurah patted her hand in fatherly like fashion. The action did little to assure her that Amidurah would heed her pleas. “He fucked you didn’t he?”
The question acted like a slap to her face. She jerked her head toward Amidurah unable to speak. Keely’s face reddened as if a flame had ignited her skin. She turned back to gaze upon the man she loved. A solitary tear slid from her eye, quickly followed by another, then another.
She sat up with as much dignity as she could call to aid her and refused to answer the sorcerer’s question. Zion was dead if she didn’t save him.
*****
For making Keely cry, Zion would kill Amidurah, as soon as he finished with Michael. He’d hoped to have a moment to tell Keely he loved her, but Amidurah didn’t afford him the same courtesy to speak as he’d given his opponent.
A servant brought forth a black case and silently waited. The sorcerer nodded his head and the man opened the box to reveal a small standing silver bell. Another nod and the man brought the case forward. By its handle, Amidurah lifted the bell from the cushions surrounding it. An evil smile crossed the sorcerer’s face.
Zion threw back his shoulders in challenge to the maniacal leader. The tiny movement flexed the skin damaged by the electric whip used on his back earlier. Pain radiated from the welt deep into his muscle.
Since Michael had been the one to administer the punishment, he also knew where to attack Zion. He’d be wise to keep his injury out of Michael’s reach.
In his peripheral vision, Zion saw the hand of the sorcerer twitch. The bell rung.
Immediately, Michael rounded on Zion and caught him under the jaw. The strike staggered Zion backward, but he didn’t fall.
Zion flexed his stomach and swung. His fisted hands pummeled Michael repeatedly in the gut, forcing his opponent back a few steps. He didn’t let up the volley of punches and kept Michael moving backward. Zion doubted the man was aware of his proximity to the mat’s edge. He contracted his legs and leapt on Michael.
Michael stumbled off the mat with Zion on top of him, giving Zion a pin.
“Seven points against Michael, three points against Zion.”
Damn! He hadn’t figured he’d be penalized for pinning his opponent.
He leapt back into the makeshift “ring” and waited for Michael to get off his back and return to the fight. The rapid-fire punches he’d thrown irritated the back injury he’d received earlier. There was no giving into the pain. If he didn’t win, Keely would bear the brunt of Amidurah’s anger before the sorcerer ended her life.
Michael returned to the fray with a flurry of jabs to Zion’s face, near his black eye. Blood flowed in his mouth, the warm liquid reminding him of all that was at stake.
Zion threw his arms up in a protective stance, feeling blood dribble from a cut. Unable to use his fists, he head-butted Michael, dropping him to the mat and pinning his opponent once more.
“Michael nine.”
Zion took a deep breath. Six points, he had the beginning of a decent lead. He looked down at the placement of his feet. They were too near the edge for his liking. He managed a half step forward.
His adversary barreled into him full force and they both flew off the mat. Michael had him down.
“Zion ten.”
Michael jumped off Zion and reentered the fight arena.
Zion waited for the penalty to be assessed against Michael. The pronouncement, “Michael twelve” never came.
The air in the room was hot and humid from their exertions and the excited individuals privy to this fight. The heavy air was suffocating him.
“That’s not fair,” Keely’s angry voice argued.
No, it wasn’t. The rules of the game obviously favored Michael.
Pushing to his feet, Zion moved to return to the fight. Aches threatened to freeze the muscles of his thighs. By Poseidon’s trident, he was weakening. He forced himself to go forward. His enemy couldn’t discover how little strength Zion had left.
Michael leapt on him the moment one of Zion’s feet touched the mat. Once more, Zion fell outside the designated boundary, his head slamming hard against the floor, Michael on top of him with a weighty pin.
“Zion seventeen.”
Michael shoved him in the stomach, perilously close to his gills when he stood.
A painful grunt left Zion’s mouth and he remained on the floor trying to catch his breath from the illegal strike. Zion waited to move until he was sure Michael was back on the mat. Warily, with hands clenched into fists, he stood. Michael wouldn’t get the drop on him like that again.
Michael glared at him as if he dared Zion to reenter the fray.
Oh, he’d fight on. He had Keely and his people to protect. Failure was not a word he accepted.
His foe leapt at him again.
This time Zion sidestepped and Michael landed on his face at the edge of the mat. Before he had a chance to roll Michael and pin him, the man was back on his feet.
Sweat coursed down Zion’s face, the salty drips burning the cut near his eye. His leg muscles clenched and he stumbled, his own sudden frailty hitting him sooner than he’d anticipated.
He tried to straighten and locate Michael.
A powerful blow staggered him backward and Zion fell to the floor.
“Zion twenty-two. Michael is our winner,” Amidurah announced with gloating triumph.
Chapter Twenty-three
“But it wasn’t fair,” Keely shrieked. “You didn’t count any points against Michael. How could Zion possibly have a chance with that sort of scoring?”
Amidurah smiled sadistically. “They knew the first to twenty-one lost. If he were the better man he would have made Michael take the falls and the points.”
Too late, Keely realized her mistake. Amidurah never intended Zion to have a fighting chance. “What do you plan to do now?”
He extended his arm to her. “Come with me, and you’ll see how my new order punishes those who displease me.”
Keely dammed her tears with a final sniffle. Deep within she could feel the stirrings of righteous anger. Anger to enable her to fight Amidurah. She sensed the time for the confrontation was near. Biding her time would give her opportunity to focus the white-hot rage she felt burning, defeat Amidurah, and rescue Zion.
She accepted the mock courtesy and walked with him to the recessed doorway.
At the entrance, he stopped and turned to the followers assembled in the room. “Bring the combatants to the dock.”
The dock! Despite hearing the river earlier, she’d had no idea they were this close to the water. Domnu looked upon her with favor to provide the aid of the river she’d practiced her abilities on days before.
She tempered her happiness at the straightforward command. It seemed so simple. Amidurah couldn’t possibly know of her ability to command the water, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought her to the very source of her power. Although he knew her as the murderer of Stephen Doubilet, he didn’t have the evidence to indicate just how she’d accomplished the feat.
They walked at a leisurely pace to the old wooden outcropping. Somehow, Amidurah managed to escape the stringent ecological rules regarding natural resources. The dock, stained dark, like the trim in the bedroom, was in a series of staggered heights. The highest appeared to be some sort of platform for prominent guests. The sorcerer wrapped an arm around Keely’s waist and continuing to hold her arm helped her up the dock steps.
When she turned around, Keely’s mouth dropped open with surprise. There were far more follower’s of the ancient sorcerer than she’d imagined in the old home, at least three dozen.
“Faithful adherents,” Amidurah intoned. “Today you are here to witness the truth of my words. Our earth needs purifying. We’ve begun the process, using the air to cleanse the pollution from the sk
ies of our major cities. The oceans, too, clean our cities of the marring effects of man against the very ground he walks on.”
Amidurah paused. The gathering broke out into applause. When it died down, he continued. “More than earth and sky need to be cleansed. We’ve diluted the true purposes of our plant species. We need to purify by fire the very ground our sustenance grows in. We need to lift up a pure and new Earth to hallow for the future.
“But that is not all we must accomplish. All the cleansing will fail us if we do not decontaminate that which is most essential to the new order, the hearts and souls of men.
“Standing before you are two men. They battled each other, one a victor, the other the vanquished.”
Keely’s heart rate tripled. This was it. Amidurah was to make his judgment on Zion. No matter how worthy this son of Poseidon was, Amidurah saw only flaws. Keely glanced down at Zion.
As if he felt her gaze upon him, Zion looked up at her, his eyes radiating intense feeling. For a heartbeat she imagined the emotion was one of passionate love.
No, it couldn’t be. He loved another, not her, didn’t he? The state of his heart toward her didn’t matter at the moment. She couldn’t bear to lose him, too. She loved him. She loved his subtle strength, his conviction to do the right thing.
If only she could tap into his strength right now and ... she stopped her thoughts. This was it, the end of the proverbial line for both of them. Zion was weakened from his fight with Michael.
Then he winked. He had a plan, some hope of action that would save his life.
Quickly, she took her gaze away from his face, casting her look downward until she could effectively mask her buoyed emotions.
“If there is one thing history has taught us,” Amidurah continued with charismatic delivery, “mankind doesn’t learn from its past mistakes. Men do not change willingly.”
The group below erupted into a loud raucous of cheers. Amidurah held up his hand and immediately the crowd silenced.
Watchtowers : Water Page 18