The Ravager Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Sara Page

  “Calm, my dear,” the King scolds me. His shades stop mimicking me, taking up his harsh expression. “There’s no need for such dramatics. This is for your own protection.”

  “No, please!” I scream as his grip on my arms loosens further. Bending forward, he begins to lower me into the pit as if he was dipping me into a pool of water.

  First my feet sink in and at once they’re gone, disconnected. I can no longer feel them or sense them. It’s as if they no longer exist.

  Next come my ankles and my boots, taking the dagger with it. I couldn’t reach it if I wanted to, but losing that weapon, that last piece of hope, causes me to snap.

  “Please don’t,” I cry and scream hysterically. My nails claw at the air and I’m twisting and turning, my only way of fighting back.

  I’m disappearing. If my head goes under will I no longer exist?

  Both Warrick and Vis roar out, and it sounds as if there’s some kind of skirmish occurring but I can’t see it. They’re so far away I know they can’t help me, even if they run they won’t reach me in time to stop this.

  Down he continues to lower to me

  My waist is gone, and now my stomach. My babies. I can’t feel them.

  “Shush, Ameia,” the King tries to comfort me as the pit reaches my shoulders. “You’ll be safe. I’m putting you where I keep all my precious possessions.”

  His hands slip away and I sink into the nothingness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I am nothing...

  …I am everything.

  There is no sound, no light, no movement.

  Just oblivion.

  Eternities pass…

  …or is it simply seconds?

  Here, time is not fluid, it’s erratic.

  I am at peace. There are no worries, no pain, no aching loneliness.

  I have fulfilled my purpose, I am complete.

  I am content.

  Until a roar shatters my silence.

  Warrick?

  The roar sounds again and my consciousness begins to awaken.

  Where am I? Who am I?

  Focus, Ameia.

  My babies!

  I have hands and my hands touch my stomach. They’re in there, little feet pressing against my ribs.

  The roar sounds again. I must protect them.

  Piece by piece, I think myself back into existence. Head, body, and feet. My boots with the dagger.

  Then I’m moving, somehow pushing my way through the darkness. I’m traveling away from the roar but as it sounds again I realize I’ve only pushed my way closer to it.

  Two rough hands grab me, locking around my arms.

  “Warrick?”

  Please be Warrick.

  There’s a grunt and then something is sniffing my hair, sniffing the side of my neck.

  “Warrick?” I ask again, hoping, praying it’s him and not some other creature of the darkness.

  “Mine,” he rumbles and pulls me against his chest.

  I slump against him in relief and even find comfort in the way he touches me. He touches me as if he’s not familiar with me, hands exploring my body as if he’s trying to learn it, memorize it.

  “Thank you for coming for me,” I say. “I know it must be hard for you to be back here.”

  He only grunts in answer.

  “Do you know how to get back?”

  He grunts again.

  “Warrick?” I ask uneasily. Is it him? I roam my hands over his body, up his arms, across his shoulders. I grab the horns on top of his head. It feels like him, but why isn’t he talking? “Can you speak?”

  “Mine,” he rumbles, and my hope vanishes.

  Something isn’t right. This is Warrick… but it isn’t.

  “We can’t stay here,” I say and run my hands back down his body until I find and grip his hand. “We have to get out of here.”

  I haven’t the faintest idea where to go but I start tugging him in a forward direction. It feels better to move than stay in one place. Standing in one place only invites the stillness to creep back in.

  Off in the distance I hear a roar. Strangely, it sounds just like Warrick.

  “Is there someone else here?” I stop and ask.

  Warrick doesn’t answer so I squeeze his hand.

  Huh? That’s funny, I’m no longer holding his hand…

  Panicking, I spin in circles, reaching through the darkness but finding nothing.

  The roar sounds again but this time it’s fainter, off in the distance.

  Somehow I lost him…

  “Warrick!” I cry out, hoping he’ll be able to find me.

  “Ameia,” a soft, feminine voice answers.

  I recoil, jumping back.

  “Ameia,” the soft voice says again.

  “Who’s there?” The voice doesn’t sound familiar, and why would there be another woman in the darkness?

  “You’re lost. Please, take my hand.”

  I hesitate, fearing this could be a trap. If only I could see, but even though I have eyes all they can make out is black upon black.

  “Please,” the woman says, her soft voice urgent. “He’s searching for you. If we don’t go now he won’t be able to find you.”

  Thinking she’s referring to Warrick I immediately place my hand in hers, finding it strange that instinctively I know where it is.

  “Hold on, we must hurry.” Her hand grasps my hand tightly and then we’re moving so fast it feels like we’re flying.

  Up, we’re going up. Thank the stars, the woman must be leading me to the surface of the pit.

  “Here,” she says after a time and we come to a stop. “If you wait here he’ll be able to find you.”

  Why doesn’t she take me all the way up to the surface?

  Her hand begins to slip away and I cry out, “Wait! Who are you? Please don’t go, come with me.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t. Please take care of them,” she says as her hand slips free from my hand.

  Before I can wonder what the hell she means by that, a voice calls out from above my head. “Ameia! Where are you? Answer me, dammit.”

  “I’m right here!” I call out.

  “There you are.”

  Suddenly I’m tugged through the darkness.

  “Striker?!” I cry out as hands grab my wrists and I’m pulled out of the pit. The blackness rolls away like oil sliding off my skin. Feet hitting solid ground, two arms wrap around me and try to haul me up against a chest but my big belly prevents it.

  I have to blink, my eyes straining to adjust to this new, brighter darkness.

  “Fucking hell, Ameia. I thought I lost you,” Striker says, his voice thick and gruff as he squeezes me. “I couldn’t find you.”

  Is it him? Is it really him?

  “I was lost,” I squeak but don’t try to push him away, even if he’s squeezing all the air out of me right now. I just want to be held by him, to be touched by him. Gods, how I missed him.

  “Thank fuck I found you,” he sighs in a ragged breath and then begins kissing the top of my head.

  “A woman helped me, she brought me to you.”

  Striker suddenly stills. “A woman?”

  I nod my head. “Yes, I was lost and trying to find my way back to Warrick when a woman came up to me and urged me to take her hand.”

  “Are you sure it was a woman? It wasn’t just a mirage or an illusion?”

  “I couldn’t see, I just heard her and she took my hand. She didn’t want to come with me, she just led me to where I could find you…” I watch his face go from surprise to fear to horror. “Do you think she’s still in there?”

  “Fuck,” Striker curses and looks towards the pit. “I don’t know.”

  I pull away from him and quickly glance around. Strangely the cavern is empty, we’re the only ones here. “Do you think you can find her?”

  “Fuck,” Striker curses again and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know, I can try.” He glances around, checking our sur
roundings. “But we have to get out of here.”

  “Try, please try,” I urge him and we walk to the edge of the pit. “If she’s in there, I don’t feel right leaving her.”

  Nodding, Striker sinks down to his knees. I start to kneel beside him but stop, afraid if I do drop down I’ll never get back up again. Bending forward, he dips his arms into the pit up to his elbows. His head falls forward and he closes his eyes as if he’s concentrating.

  “Are you sure, Ameia?” he asks and the way he asks it I can tell he wants me to be mistaken, he doesn’t want to believe anyone is in there.

  “I’m sure,” my voice is small because I don’t want to believe it either, but if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have found my way back to Striker.

  Striker moves his arms around and I remind him, “Warrick was in there as well…”

  “The big guy with the horns?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last time I seen him he was upstairs fighting.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. I have a feeling the Warrick I encountered in the pit was not the Warrick I know.

  “If you find him, please pull him out.”

  “I will.”

  Seconds tick by and I shift from foot to foot, uneasily glancing around. Where are all the shadows? Where is everyone else? I want to ask but I don’t want to distract Striker.

  “There,” he grunts. “I got something.”

  The muscles in his back and shoulders strain as he works to pull whatever he found out. Pausing for a moment, he takes a deep breath, gathering up his strength and then with a great heave backwards, his arms appear.

  In his arms he’s holding the limp form of a dark-haired woman. She’s dressed in a white slip and her skin is so pale. Turning to the side, he gently lays her body down and bends over her, checking her for vital signs.

  I lower down to my knees now to help, not caring if I’ll be able to get back up. She’s human and she’s not breathing.

  “Striker,” I gasp.

  His head lifts up and he shakes it sadly. “She’s gone.”

  “Oh gods,” my hands cover my mouth and I stare at him in horror.

  Striker’s face crumbles with such sadness it breaks my heart.

  “Oh, Striker,” I say, reaching for him.

  He allows me to pull him into my arms.

  “It wasn’t your fault…” I start to say, thinking he must be blaming himself for what just happened.

  He shakes his head and pulls back. “But it is,” he insists.

  “No, it’s not,” I try to correct him. “If it’s anyone’s…”

  “It is,” he says sharply, cutting me off. “It’s my fault she was in the pit. It’s my fault for not stopping him.”

  I don’t understand what’s gotten into him, but I can’t just let him believe he is to blame for what happened. “We did what we could. Nobody even knew she was even in there…”

  “I should have known,” he says angrily, and gently, tenderly closes her eyes for her. “She was my mother.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A monstrous roar sounds out and the entire cavern shudders and vibrates from the force of it. Stalactites crash to the ground and ripples move across the pit, the edges splashing up like inky liquid.

  I scramble backwards to avoid getting splashed.

  “Warrick?” I ask but even as I do, I know it’s not him.

  Striker shakes his head. “We have to get out of here.”

  Standing first, he bends over and helps me to my feet. Once standing, we both look down at the body of his mother. “We can’t just leave her…”

  Striker grabs my hand, turns his back on her, and starts pulling me away. “We have to.”

  Pressing my lips together, I don’t speak another word in protest. I’m not going to fight him on this. I just try my best to swallow back the sadness welling up inside me, knowing that whatever I’m feeling he must be feeling it as well, only much worse. Much, much worse.

  So I squeeze his hand and follow him as fast as my pregnant body will move.

  Another roar sounds out but this one fainter, sadder, pulling at my heart.

  Is that the King? I can’t help but shudder at the thought.

  Striker leads me around the edge of the pit but instead of heading for the throne he veers off towards the opposite wall.

  “Do you still have the key?” Striker asks over his shoulder as my feet begin to slow.

  I’m huffing and puffing as I try to keep up with him but I just can’t move that fast, it feels like I have giant melon squeezed between my thighs.

  “Key?”

  Striker stops and I’m grateful for the chance to catch my breath.

  “I was told you were given the key to the royal quarters.”

  I just stare at him in confusion, I have no clue what he’s talking about. “I wasn’t given a key. The only thing I have is the dagger in my boot.”

  Striker drops down. “Which boot?”

  “The right.”

  Withdrawing the dagger, he straightens then he’s tugging me forward again. He leads me up to a door carved into the stone wall. I watch him unsheathe the dagger then thrust it into a hole. A lock pops, the door creaks open and without hesitation he leads me through.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “We’re going to rendezvous with Prince Drek on the surface.”

  “Beast is here?” I gasp, squeezing his hand.

  “Yes,” Striker nods, his steps never slowing as he navigates us through the hallways that make up the private royal quarters. “And over half of Blackspire’s fleet.”

  My heart swells and my own feet move a little faster with anticipation. Knowing I’m about to be reunited with Beast gives me that extra little boost of energy I need to keep going.

  We turn down another hallway and then another. After the fifth or sixth hallway I begin to fear we’re just walking in circles, or perhaps all these hallways are some kind of devious maze.

  “How much further I ask?” My feet slowing.

  Striker’s pace slows and he looks back at me in concern. “We’re almost there. Think you can make it?”

  I nod my head even as I begin to feel a little stitch in my side, beneath my left rib. Not much further, I urge myself on. If I can just reach Beast everything will be alright. The pain is only temporary.

  Striker is practically dragging me down one last hallway as I lag behind, but as we reach the end, instead of there being a turn that leads to another hallway, there’s a simple black door cut into the wall.

  “Don’t let go of my hand,” he warns and gives me a moment to catch my breath.

  Hunching over, I suck air in through my nose and out through my mouth. The little stitch beneath my left rib has grown into a great big stitch.

  “We’re almost there, Ameia,” he says encouragingly. “Just a little further, you can do it.”

  Nodding, I straighten, ready to go forward, ready for this nightmare to end even if I can’t seem to catch my breath.

  Striker turns the handle and pulls open the door to reveal a wall of swirling blackness. I stare into the void and shake my head, taking a step back.

  “Not another pit!”

  “I’m sorry, Ameia,” Striker apologizes, “But we have to do this.”

  Without giving me a chance to put up more of a fight, he yanks me forward, into oblivion.

  * * *

  Pain tears through my body. At first there is only blackness but then there is a bright white light shining in face, which makes the pain even worse.

  I scream and try to claw at my eyes. Someone grabs my wrists and pins my hands at my sides.

  “Turn off the fucking light!” someone else yells.

  “Strap her down.”

  The pain eases away for a moment, just long enough for me to catch my breath, then another contraction racks through my body, this one even worse than the one before.

  “Push, Ameia, you can do this,” Beast says.

  “You’re
doing so great, you got this,” Striker adds.

  I feel an enormous pressure building up inside me and know the only way to make it go away is by pushing it out. I bear down.

  There is a moment of hushed anticipation, as if everyone sucked in their breath at once. And then a tiny cry rings out.

  I slump back, feeling relief and exhaustion. It’s done, it’s over.

  A kiss is pressed against my forehead and another against my cheek before someone calls out, “It’s a girl!”

  I try to lift my hands, wanting to hold my arms out so I can hold my baby girl but a stab of pain stops me.

  Another contraction begins to build with the same intensity as the one before. I draw my knees up, the pain causing me to curl in on myself.

  “Just one more time, you got this.”

  Pressure, so much pressure. I push and push. I know the only way to get relief is to push until it stops.

  The pain stops.

  Another tiny cry rings out.

  I suck in a breath and fall back. Kisses cover my face, a purring voice telling me how good I did, while another pair of lips is kissing up and down my arm.

  “Another girl!”

  Slumping against the bed, I hear congratulations being passed around. It sounds as if I’m surrounded by a room full of people. I want to ask where I am, how did I get here, but I just can’t seem to find the strength to form the words.

  “Ameia?!” Someone shakes my shoulder in alarm.

  “She’s fading, everyone out!” an order is barked out.

  The last thing I hear is the crying of my two little girls.

  Epilogue

  “Welcome back, beautiful,” Vis smiles down at me as I open my eyes.

  My tongue is thick and my mouth is incredibly dry but somehow I manage to ask, “What’s going on?”

  “Do you remember anything that happened?” Vis asks, kneeling down beside my bed until we’re at eye level. He brings a cup of water to my lips and I drink until it’s empty. Setting the empty cup off to the side, he picks my hand off the bed and squeezes it.

  I try to think back. I remember the pit but not much else. “No, I can’t remember. It’s all just bits and pieces.”