One of the enemy soldiers lurched past Dakota, and took aim at Ryleigh. Sword lifted over his head, he rushed her.
He was a young man, not much older than her. His cheeks burned red with the cold. Tufts of blond curls escaped his helmet. Only a boy. Human.
I can’t do this.
He attacked, swinging the sword down toward her.
A blow came from her side, and Dakota knocked her to the ground as Jimmy plunged past her, sword raised to halt the attack.
“Snap out of it, Ryleigh.” Dakota’s breath fell hot on her neck as he rolled off her.
Why had it been so easy to fight the savages? Because they were less civilized, appeared more monster than human? Maybe if they were treated better they’d be—
Dakota slapped her cheek. Hard. “Fight it. Keep your mouth closed.”
He helped her to sit, crouched over her. “It’s the snow. Daygan’s magic still taints it. It can’t work if you don’t give in to it.” He gripped her face. Brought her gaze to his. “Fight it, Ryleigh. Now.”
A savage screamed as he plunged easily through the snow banks.
Dakota left her and lunged forward.
She fell back to lay in the snow, staring straight up into the storm. The cloud of snow separated into millions of tiny shards. Fascinating. Mesmerizing. Ice pummeled her, stinging her skin.
“Ryleigh,” Tristan yelled, his voice filled with panic.
She rolled, narrowly avoiding the axe a man buried through the snow and into the ground where her head had been an instant before. She grabbed the handle and kicked out, sweeping the warrior’s feet from beneath him.
He grunted as he landed sprawled on his back, the axe still embedded in the ground.
Okay, enough of this. She wouldn’t assassinate an unarmed man, but if he went for the axe, all bets were off. She jumped to her feet, sword held ready, feet planted as firmly as possible in the deep snow.
The warrior rolled, grabbing the axe as he went, then lunged to his feet, yanking the weapon from the ground.
The axe arced toward her.
She countered, the heavy sword throwing her off balance. She stepped to the side.
The whistle of a sword passed her head as another man attacked from behind.
She balanced herself, swung to the right with a two handed grip. Holding her sword steady, she ran it through his gut.
He fell, sword dropping to the ground as he clutched his belly.
Without hesitation, she whirled around and lifted her weapon to block the next attack from the man with the axe.
He swung again, missed, spinning with the momentum and attacking again.
She searched in vain for an opening. Nothing. She could barely defend herself.
Tristan appeared from nowhere, threading his arm around the man’s neck and snapping it in one smooth motion.
Silence descended. The howl of the wind died down. Was that it? Had they won? She had to see if any of her men were hurt. Her gaze fell on the man she’d felled. He lay still, his eyes open.
Ryleigh dropped to her knees. Her stomach heaved. She crawled behind a small cluster of trees, leaving a trail in the snow with the blood-covered sword she dragged behind her, and vomited.
* * * *
Voices intruded, penetrating the peaceful haze of oblivion. Familiar.
Jackson fought to ignore them. A tidal wave of pain surged over him.
“Jackson!” The sting of a slap across his cheek punctuated the word.
Not again.
“Are you sure you should be slapping him?” A second voice.
“We have to get him awake. I can’t do anything for him here.”
A hand gripped Jackson’s throat.
He struggled in his mind, but his body couldn’t obey the command to fight. He hung limply from the shackles binding his wrists to the wall, the burn in his shoulders nearly unbearable.
“He has no pulse, almost no heartbeat. A human would have been dead long ago.”
A whoosh of breath. “Yeah, no kidding.” The second speaker paused. “Are you sure he’s alive, Ranger?”
Ranger? Familiar. Where did he know that name from? Did it matter? Blackness ebbed and flowed. Not really. The words pierced the wall he’d built to protect his mind and keep his knowledge firmly secured. Their meanings didn’t.
“Here. Move. Let me try,” the second voice hissed.
A hushed whisper. Furtive. Strange. “Fine. Hurry.”
Hot breath washed over Jackson as the other man leaned closer.
He tried desperately to shut down his mind.
“Jackson. Can you hear me?” Strong arms gripped him around the waist and lifted, easing some of the weight from his shoulders. “See if you can remove the shackles.”
Pain ripped through him. Show no fear. Show no pain. The chant like a mantra, over and over in his mind.
“Hey, Jackson. It’s me, Noah. Do you remember me?” The speaker—Noah—turned his head away. Noah? “Find something to get these things off. Hurry. Both of his shoulders are severely dislocated.”
Metal clattered on the table. Jackson’s insides turned to mush as he braced himself for the blow. No fear. No pain.
“Do you remember me, Jackson? Noah…Ryleigh’s friend.”
Jackson’s mind stilled, all of the chaos coming to an abrupt halt. Ryleigh. His one true love. The woman he’d claim as his own. Live the rest of his life with. Except he hadn’t. He’d kept from claiming her because she wasn’t ready. And now, he’d die without her at his side.
“Here. Try this.”
The squeak and clank of tools pierced him like a dagger.
“It’s not working.”
“Damn.” The speaker pressed his forehead against Jackson’s for an instant.
“We don’t have much time.”
Noah?
“We’ve got to get him out. Hold him. Let me try something.”
Noah’s grip tightened.
“You’re going to have to let him go and hold this.”
“Jackson.” Noah’s voice held no sympathy this time. Steel strengthened the words. “You have to stand. Now. I don’t want to let you drop again and hang.” His hold eased a little.
Jackson’s weight fell.
“Crap.” The iron grip tightened again. “Jackson. This is it, man. Your last chance. I came for you, because Ryleigh asked me to, and I would do anything for her. If you don’t pull through, that’s not my problem. I’m sure she’ll get over you soon enough. And then, she’s mine.”
Ryleigh’s friend. Noah. Yes. The memories shattered the barrier in his mind.
“What’s it gonna be, Jackson?” Noah’s strained breaths shortened. “Stand. Now. Or we leave you to your fate. And Ryleigh’s mine.” His grip faltered. “Damn. I can’t do it while I’m holding him.”
“Let him go. I’ll start to heal him, at least ease the worst of the damage, as soon as we get him down.”
Ryleigh. Jackson straightened his legs. Locked his knees to keep them from collapsing.
“Got it. Go.”
A snap. Clanging metal. A curse.
Jackson’s right arm fell to his side. Numbness tingled. His wrist started to burn. The burn intensified. The other arm fell.
“I have him. Get his feet.” Someone…Ranger? Guided him and laid him on the floor.
A cascade of metal echoed as Noah yanked the thick chain through the shackles.
Cold and dampness seeped into Jackson’s bones. He tried to open his eyes, but only managed narrow slits through the swelling.
“Jackson. Can you hear me?”
Ranger? Jackson tried to open his mouth, struggled to answer. Nothing. His lips too dry to pry them apart. His throat raw, parched. Warmth stirred. Just a flicker, enough to force some of the ice from his heart.
Ranger pressed his hands more firmly against Jackson’s chest. Heat flared. Threaded between the wounds in his chest, poured through the h
ole Kai’s and Chayce’s swords had torn through his body. “Get him onto his side.”
Noah rolled Jackson.
Agony wrenched his hip.
Ranger pressed a hand to his back, keeping the other one on the injury to his chest. Almost a mortal wound. So close.
Chayce probably thought he was dead, if the tantrum he’d thrown before he stormed from the chamber last time was any indication. At least, Jackson thought it was the last time. The torture all ran together into a blur of mind-numbing pain.
“Press your hands against his eyes.” Ranger kept Jackson’s body firmly wedged between his hands.
“For what?” Noah did as he asked, pressing ice cold hands against the swelling. “What the…”
Heat trickled between Jackson’s crusted lashes.
“All Cymmerans have the ability to heal themselves and others. You’ll learn how to harness the energy and focus it with time. For now, the light surrounding your hands will seep into the worst of his injuries and begin to heal them.” Ranger lowered him gently onto his back and ran his hands over Jackson’s legs and hips. “We must get him walking and restore some of his vision. There’s no way we can carry him out of here.”
“Why can’t you just open the portal, or whatever you did to get here in the first place, and carry him through?”
“Thaddeus, Daygan’s se…uh…Chayce’s seer, is an extremely powerful sorcerer. A portal cannot be opened within the castle or the surrounding area, unless he allows it.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Ranger sighed. “We’re going to get him on his feet and walk out of here on either side of him. Try to fend off an attack if it comes.”
Noah’s sarcastic laughter grated Jackson’s already raw nerves.
“On his feet? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Silence followed.
Noah shifted.
A vision of the look Ranger’d pinned him with gave Jackson at least some satisfaction. He’d been on the receiving end of that glare.
The pressure Noah had applied to his eyes lifted. “Hey, some of the swelling went down. A lot actually.”
Jackson slitted his eyes open, but the dim light in the chamber seared them, and he squeezed them shut a second later. He lifted a hand and covered his eyes, rolled onto his side, and tried again, blocking most of the light. This time, he managed to keep them slightly open. He rested his head against the damp stone, grateful for the cold leaching in to ease some of the throbbing.
“Can you get to your feet?”
Jackson glanced up, hesitant, ready to turn away if the light burned. Okay. Manageable.
Ranger stood over him, hands on his knees, concern etched in every line of his face.
Noah stood behind him, staring at the chamber entrance, leg bouncing. He rubbed a hand over his hair. Propped it on his hip. Let it drop. Tapped his foot.
It was time to go.
Jackson braced himself, tucking his knees beneath him, rolled over and pushed up onto all fours. He hung his head between his arms and battled the sense of vertigo that assailed him. Mold and dampness invaded his lungs. Steadying his breathing, beating back the pain, he shoved against the floor and straightened.
Ranger and Noah each grabbed one of his arms and hauled him to his feet, then waited for him to get his bearings.
A cramp twisted his gut. Pain shot down his back and into his right leg. Agony tormented him, and the need to lay back down and find the peace of oblivion screamed at him, begging him to surrender. But something else stirred as well. Need. Desire. Ryleigh. He had to find her. Hold her. Claim her.
One glance at Noah strengthened his resolve.
Ryleigh belonged to Jackson. Jealousy raged within him, clawed toward the surface.
Ranger glanced at the closed door, careful not to rush Jackson, his twitching eye a tell-tale sign he was nervous.
Jackson sucked the stagnant air into his lungs, the coppery scent of his own blood choking him. “Ryleigh?” He had to be sure. “Alive?”
Noah’s expression softened. “Yeah, man. She’s alive.”
Jackson nodded. “Thank.” He took a shallow breath. “You.”
Noah cleared his throat. He stared at Jackson for a second or two, then shook his head and looked away.
“Lets. Go.” They started forward. One step at a time. He could do this. He urged himself to move. Another step. A shudder coursed through him. He shook off the helping hands. Swayed. Staggered toward the door.
“This is ridiculous, Jackson. Let us help you. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”
Jackson fixed a hard stare on Noah. “Nothing to do…” He ignored the stab of pain from one of many broken ribs. “With pride. Necessary.”
Noah frowned.
Ranger jumped in, saving Jackson the agony of trying to continue. “If we get ambushed, we’ll need both hands free. Jackson is in no condition to fight. The split second we’ll lose releasing him could cost all of our lives.”
Jackson turned back toward the chamber. Eyed the various instruments of torture Chayce had so gleefully used on him. A quick search for his shirt and boots turned up nothing. He’d have to content himself to escape in only his jeans. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to brave the cold and snow too long before they’d be able to transfer.
“You have to remember, an attack can come in a fraction of an instant. From anywhere. A portal could open in front of you, and suddenly you’re smack in the middle of an all-out battle.”
Noah nodded his understanding, his expression somber. Good. He truly did realize the seriousness of the situation.
The two men started to move again, and Noah kept a firm grip on the sword sheathed at his side. He turned back when Jackson didn’t fall into step between them. “Aren’t you coming?”
Ranger cracked the door open and peeked out.
“Yeah. Need something.” Dryness burned his throat, and he forced himself to swallow. His gaze fell on the object he was searching for. He bent and retrieved Ryleigh’s sword, the sword he’d given her, from amid the rubble Chayce had left in his fit of rage. “Ready.” Turning his back on the destruction, he headed for the door Ranger held open. Then stopped again.
Chayce’s weapon of choice, the flail he’d so callously wielded against his own brother, lay tangled around a broken pole. Jackson unwound it, lifted it, and hefted it in his hand. Only fitting if he ran into his brother. “Now. I’m ready.”
He strode through the doorway, head high, back straight.
Noah and Ranger positioned themselves on either side of him.
Jackson swallowed the lump of pride and turned to Noah. He captured his gaze, tucked the sword beneath his arm, and held out a hand. “Thank you.” He wouldn’t say any more than that. Didn’t need to. Noah would understand.
Noah took the proffered hand and shook it once. “Yeah, well. If she wasn’t so head over heels for you, all bets would be off.” His laughter echoed back at Jackson as he walked away.
For the first time since his ordeal had begun, a smile tugged at him.
Silence descended as the three of them crept through the maze of underground tunnels designed to keep prisoners from escaping. Water dripped. Something scratched at the stone wall.
Jackson worked to control his harsh breathing, but his cracked ribs wouldn’t allow it. Blood rushed through his ears.
Something whimpered.
Wait. He froze. His imagination? No. Something more.
Noah and Ranger stopped and waited, gazes darting in every direction, searching for any sign of attack.
Jackson strained to hear a repeat of the sound. Nothing. They should just keep moving. And yet…
He lowered himself to one knee. Closed his eyes. Pressed a hand against the ground.
A small sob.
There.
A savage battle cry echoed through the tunnels.
He jumped, startled. His eyes flew open.
Ra
nger bent his knees and drew his sword.
Noah followed.
“Psst…” Impatience danced in Ranger’s eyes.
Jackson held up a hand, palm toward Ranger. Then closed his fist, leaving only one finger raised. He pressed his ear to the stone, covered his other ear and listened.
Someone crying softly.
He ran his fingers along the seams between the stones. Nothing. He dropped to both knees and crawled forward a few feet, smoothed his hand lightly over the stones. One tipped. Gotcha.
A small section of stones along the floor swung inward, leaving a narrow tunnel at the bottom of the wall.
Footsteps thundered against stairs, the reverberation pounding through Jackson’s head. Demanding he run.
“Psst.” More insistent this time, as Ranger gestured for him to get up and move.
Jackson shook his head and pointed into the dark tunnel.
Ranger dropped beside him, with Noah keeping guard at their backs. Ranger glared at Jackson before leaning closer to the opening. “We’re wasting time, now. We have to—What was that?” He paused and leaned toward the opening. “It sounds like someone crying.”
“I thought so too. We can’t leave someone down here.”
Ranger smoothed his long, dark hair back and leaned forward. “It’s definitely someone crying.”
“All right.” Jackson lay the flail on the ground beside him, a small pang of regret flaring, and flattened himself on the ground, head toward the opening.
“Forget it, man. It’s not happening.” Ranger gripped his shoulder, restraining him.
“Well, what do you suggest we do?”
He unbuckled his belt, a harsh whisper punctuating his abrupt movements. “You have nothing but jeans on, every inch of your body is covered in bruises, swelling, and cuts. You have a gaping hole running through your chest and straight out your back, and you’re moving slow as…I don’t even know anything that moves that slow.” He crouched alongside the opening.
Ranger’s broad shoulders would never fit into the small shaft.
“Get out of the way.” Noah dropped his belt and weapons on the ground, grabbed a small dagger from his boot, and clamped it between his teeth. With no hesitation, he plunged into the darkness.
Lost Princess Page 20