Paladin Rising (The Paladin's Curse Book 1)

by Kristell Carnie

  Voices call out, closer to me now and I struggle to stay awake, to see a friendly face before I am gone, anything for the last image in my mind to not be of Garvien.

  Focusing towards the voices, something catches my eye. The blood red of a stone shines out brightly beneath real blood - both mine and Garvien’s.

  My trembling fingers creep towards it, grasping it with as much hate as pleasure. The ring is heavy and warm and it’s obviously much too big for my finger but I refuse to let it go regardless.

  Slipping it over my hand it encircles my left wrist perfectly, bringing forth a shaky smile. Twisting the ruby away from sight, my last wheezing breath leaves my ravaged body.

  Voices are right beside me now, beckoning me to respond, yet I don’t struggle to see who they belong to. I am happy that my last conscious thought centres on how miserable Garvien will be when he realises he’s lost his treasured ring.

  I have exacted a sliver of revenge after all.

  Chapter Three

  Floating, suspended in air, a weightless body no longer connected to conscious thought, merely drifting along in a world beyond anything remotely natural.

  I have no idea how long I stay this way, immobilised yet completely free. There is no way to record time, no need to. All there is, is space, never ending comfort for my body and soul.

  When I do not question where I am, content to stay in this detached state forever, a chain reaction of awakening begins and I realise that my time is coming to an end here. Slowly my mind reconnects with my body, it is uncomfortable and I fight it, desperate not to return to the savage place that I was in.

  The body that I have spent nineteen years in rejects any attempt to merge again, the overwhelming sensation of being an overfilled balloon being forced into a too small jar comes to mind. Yet the cord which links us will not surrender, using its control to join all of my broken pieces back together.

  Gentle breathing fills my ears, connecting me back to the present, trying to draw me out of the safety of this unknown place that I cling to. I’m not ready to face whoever it is out there and truthfully I’m terrified I will open my eyes to find Garvien waiting to finish me off.

  There is no pain here; the lack of torment frees my mind, leaving me no control over what memories invade. Snapshots of my life flicker behind closed eyelids, a running record of people I have lost and others who I had lost all hope of ever seeing again.

  A chestnut-haired beauty, her skin the colour of cream, eyes the deepest brown, filled with so much warmth it breaks my heart, features prominently in my memories. Mum.

  I had forced myself not to think about her, not to let my heart focus on missing her so much, because I knew I would never have made it through if I did. The thought of what she must be going through, driving herself crazy not knowing where I am, would have sent me mad too.

  She would be beyond desperate, endlessly searching for me, and after all these weeks she would be denying the possibility that I will never be coming back. She wouldn’t even consider it; hell if she ever got her hands on Garvien he would be sorry.

  My lingering hope for her all depends on her new boyfriend and his kids. I didn’t like him and I never clicked with his kids either. Basically, the day they moved in, I moved out.

  He blamed jealousy, telling Mum I had been spoilt for too long and needed to grow up. In truth, I was an overprotective daughter who had watched my father succumb to an aggressive cancer and witnessed my mother’s eventual breakdown.

  When she recovered and ultimately started dating William Stratford, a man who saw the same therapist – for reasons I still don’t know – only one year after my father’s death, I had been completely against it. My mother was still weak, her confidence shattered along with her heart.

  In my opinion, she was using William like a Band-Aid, but a Band-Aid can’t cover a bullet wound for long and that’s basically what she was trying to do.

  The week before I was captured I had finally confronted her about it, desperately trying to get her to see reason. After all we had been through together, all the times I had held her when she had wanted to take her own life and follow Dad, every day I had visited her in the hospital as she underwent treatment for severe depression, every moment I had been there for her, supporting her through her grief even as no one supported me through mine.

  None of it had mattered as she looked me dead in the eyes and sided with William.

  That moment, right then, sliced my heart in two. I could see in her eyes, in the way she held her mouth, lips pulled tightly together, she desperately wanted me to understand, but I never could.

  How could she choose a man over her own flesh and blood, her only connection to Dad? But she did. I had gotten into my car and driven away without looking back. Now the last memory of my mother, the one that is constantly playing on a loop around my tormented mind, is of her soul being crushed all over again.

  Half of me believes she might not even notice that I’ve disappeared, she will be so wrapped up in William and his two kids to care, but the more mature half of me knows she is out there searching frantically for me, all the while blaming herself for my sudden disappearance.

  I hope with my entire heart that she is strong enough to bear this loss too. That’s why William is so important. He can talk as much smack about me as he wants, as long as he keeps her alive, keeps Mum happy.

  The ache in my heart grows, bringing forth a new round of torment. Even in this half-conscious state I can feel the burning tears trickling down my face, the first time I have allowed myself to cry since being taken.

  The heat of fingertips tracing along my skin, following the trail of tears, stills my heart. Goosebumps rise across my arms, the tiny hairs standing on end as I try to force my unresponsive eyelids to open.

  Not knowing who is out there is more terrifying than seeing what is coming for me. I have no way of defending myself, and that fear alone is enough to pull my soul and body back together, escaping this temporary oasis.

  The sensation of a warm blanket being pulled up to my chest puts me on edge. There were no blankets in the cage, nor was there the sweet scent of caramel which now fills my nose.

  A soft, wordless tune floats around, the mere sound of it causing my heart to expand. None of these things are from that awful planet, these are human traits. Can I be home? Can this nightmare really be over?

  The promise of being free is enough to fuel me on out of this comatose state. My eyelids are incredibly heavy, almost as if they have been glued shut. It takes several attempts to pry them open, allowing a slit of soft, warm light to pass through.

  A mirage of shadows contorts my vision as I try to focus on my surroundings. Unfamiliar possessions greet me and I feel a frown tugging at my forehead, while I try to decipher what is going on.

  I am in a large room, the dark grey stone walls, which reach to a high ceiling, are smooth and rounded, none bearing the sharp, cutting edges of the creature’s planet.

  The soft orange light of a setting sun streams in through two arched windows on the opposite side of the room, encasing the space in an almost dreamy ambience.

  A solid wooden mirrored dresser sits beside an overlarge four-poster bed on which I lay. Once I see it I can’t pull my eyes away, not because of its beautiful craftsmanship or because of its overwhelming size, no it’s what I see staring back that has me compelled.

  Soft waves of dark chocolate brown hair falling free, frame the creamy skin of an oval face. Overlarge doe eyes, the colour of deep cinnamon coffee with a near black ring encircling the iris, hold an overabundance of fear that has never before been portrayed.

  Plump pink, cherub bow lips part, a silent cry never escaping as I take in the girl I believed I would never see again.

  Me.

  Tears fall freely now as I try to unravel all the out of control emotions swarming around inside of me. How is it possible that I’m not only alive but I also look so normal, so well and healthy?

  In fact with
the exception of my haunted eyes telling a completely different story, I actually look more refreshed, more alive than I have in years.

  The sound of a throat clearing has me spinning around trying to locate the source. Sitting quietly, tucked up in the corner occupying an overstuffed chair, is a woman I have never seen before. Her long jet black hair is intricacy plaited, combining flowers in its length down to her waist. Her skin is softly tanned, yet shows no hint of age. Only her eyes, the colour of straw, belie her years. The wisdom and understanding they contain hints that her age is closer to my mother’s than mine.

  A soft, unhurried smile touches her bright red lips, and I can’t help but relax in her presence. As if reading my reaction, she moves forward, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Hello child, I have been waiting for you to wake for some time now.” Her delicate voice rings like bells on a Sunday morning, yet it is not her unique voice which leaves me confused.

  My lips part, desperate to ask her a million questions but no words will spill out.

  A slight frown pulls at her delicate features as she waits for my response. Slowly, understanding washes over her face, and she turns, hiding her reaction from me.

  I take the moment to scrutinise my surroundings once more. I’m definitely not anywhere I had seen on that awful planet, yet this room gives the ambience of luxury I am unused to. It certainly isn’t a place I have ever visited before nor is it a hospital. Where then, am I?

  Feeling eyes watching my reactions I glance back towards the woman, wondering again who she could possibly be and why she seems so overly emotional towards me.

  “I’m sure you have many questions, my dear, but I can’t stress enough how your terrible ordeal has affected your body.” I don’t miss the tightening of her shoulders as her eyes skim my hidden form beneath the blankets.

  “When my boys found you, you were mere moments from death. I hate to think what would have become of you if they hadn’t attacked when they did. Nonetheless, you were found and immediately brought back here and placed in our healing chambers, where you have stayed for little over a week.” She pauses, giving me time to process this information.

  Another week of my life gone, just like that. At least it was only a week and not my entire life.

  “Where am I?” my voice croaks, surprising us both that I have actually spoken at all.

  She rises, reaching for a glass beside the bed. Touching it to my lips, sweet tasting water flows across my dry tongue, moistening my parched throat. The summery flavour is addictive and without meaning to, my hand lifts up, trying to force more into my mouth.

  It is then that I realise that I can move my body without being assaulted with the piercing pain which had encased me so completely before and the unexpectedness of it has me jerking forward, spilling some of the precious water down my neck.

  “Easy, my dear. This is not normal water. It has healing properties and needs to be limited.”

  I nod, not completely understanding, yet believing her entirely. For some reason I do not fear this woman. Her calm demeanour shows only the surface of what I truly believe is a kind person. I can’t explain it, but for the first time in a long time, I actually begin to feel trust.

  “Where am I?” I ask again, my voice stronger now.

  Pulling myself up to a sitting position I notice the woman’s hands flutter in front of her, eager to help me yet instinctively knowing to keep her distance. Instead she folds them in her lap, her eyes meeting mine.

  “This is the land of Prytora. You are a guest in my home for as long as you wish to be.”

  Her words ricochet around my brain for a moment. A guest, not a hostage. What does it mean?

  “This is not the same planet I was on, with those creatures?” my voice trails off, not wanting to ever think of them again.

  She shakes her head rigidly, her eyes hardening for the first time since I woke.

  “No, the land of Prytora would never allow the foul Zantronians to enter our Realm.”

  “Zantronians?” I interrupt. “That’s what they are called?”

  Her lips draw into a thin line; her hatred for the creatures is as obvious as mine.

  “Yes, the Zantronians came from the planet Zantron. My people are the Prytorians from the planet Prytora.” She says it simply as if it should all make sense, when none of it actually does.

  It’s all so overwhelming, too much bizarre information at once. I’m still not home, I’m on another planet entirely, and somehow they not only managed to save my life, even though I was so close to death, but they also healed me – broken bones and all – in just over a week. How the heck can I ever wrap my head around all of this completely foreign information?

  My eyes snap closed, wanting to retreat back into the empty space I was before, where everything was easier and I didn’t have to try to understand the craziness surrounding me.

  “I have said too much, for that I am sorry.”

  Looking back at her pained expression, guilt tightens my chest. This woman has done nothing wrong; in fact, if she’s being honest, which I’m sure she is, she along with her sons saved my life.

  “No, I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to get my head around. Before all of this happened I didn’t even think that there was life on other planets except for Earth. It’s a lot to process.”

  She reaches out, her thin hand resting on top of mine, squeezing gently as if to reassure me. Instead of feeling awkward and uncomfortable, her touch calms me, filling me with a sense of safety.

  “So what actually happened that day? Why did your people attack the Zantronians?” I ask before taking another long sip of the healing water.

  “To put it simply, our two kinds have a deep set hatred for each other. It’s been that way for as long as anyone can remember.” She pauses, standing swiftly.

  “Right now though is not the time to discuss such matters. Your awakening has been a long awaited pleasure. I don’t believe I can keep my people away from you for much longer. Blay has been especially concerned, since it was, in fact, he who found you and brought you here.”

  “Blay?”

  “My eldest son. He doesn’t usually care for the company of other kinds, but for you, he has made an exception. Nearly dying in someone’s arms can do that to a man.”

  She drifts towards a door, opening it to reveal a small room full of clothing.

  “I have had some items brought in for you, although they may be quite different to what you are used to. I do hope you like them.”

  I take in the array of dresses hanging in the walk-in wardrobe, my heart plummeting at the sight of such elaborately made items. Trying to keep my expression neutral I smile, not wanting to offend her. The dresses are obviously worth a fortune, like everything else in this room. I don’t understand why she would go to such an effort just for me.

  A knowing smile touches her lips yet she keeps her thoughts to herself. Moving gracefully to another door she swings it open and instantly a genuine smile crosses my face.

  “Here is your bathroom, take as long as you need to refresh yourself, dress in whatever you prefer, although I must tell you that your original clothing was beyond repair. When you are ready, there will be someone at the door to escort you to the dining room.”

  As she turns to leave, my heart jumps in panic.

  “Wait,” I stumble, unsure of what to say to keep her here. “Who are you?”

  Her lips twitch into a calming smile, warmth seeping into her unusual eyes.

  “You may call me Karadese, and your name is?”

  “I’m Rayna,” my voice resonates with defeat. Really I’m unsure of who I truly am anymore, I’ve lost so much, become something other than what I used to be.

  “I will see you soon, Rayna.”

  She drifts out the door, leaving me to process everything in my own time. Silence fills the air, a sound I haven’t heard in so long that I am suddenly extremely grateful for the solitude.

  For the first time in
forever, I actually feel alone. No one is watching me, waiting to strike if I utter a single sound. The ability to move, to do what I want to, without the fear of someone or something punishing me for my actions, warms my hardened heart and fills me with a feeling I had long ago given up on. Hope.

  The idea of clean water beckons my rejuvenated body out of the oversized bed. The soles of my now healed feet tingle as I place them onto the stone flooring, the coolness refreshing after enduring that burning hot hell for so long.

  I walk slowly, giving my muscles time to wake up and respond the way they should. I might have miraculously been healed, but my body has not forgotten what it went through, each step slow and careful, unwilling to create any more pain.

  Making it to the bathroom feels like a triumph and I celebrate by stripping off the thin cotton nightgown I wear, before all but diving under the cascading water of the inbuilt shower.

  My body must have been cleaned while I was unconscious, as no trace of the grime I had accumulated while trapped there, is visible, yet I still feel dirty, unable to wash away the memories embedded deep in my mind.

  I stand there, under the burning water, letting it sear my skin in a futile attempt to cleanse away what I had endured. If I was home the hot water would have long ago run out, yet the temperature here never cools. Eventually though, the heat becomes unbearable, only causing to trigger memories I never want to think about again.

  Stepping out of the bathroom with a thick towel wrapped around me, I make my way to the wardrobe, already anxious about what I will find. What I wouldn’t give to slip into a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater, something warm and soft, a small reminder of home.

  Instead I am left with an elegant selection of dresses that I would never willingly choose to wear, except maybe for at a fancy-dress party.

  Picking out the least restricting dress, I pull the dark blue silk over my body, temporarily soothed by its softness against my oversensitive skin, before turning to look in the full-length mirror.