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Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1)

Page 27

by Madeline Meekins


  She can’t stop it. She pushes against him again, but no relief comes.

  A cool breeze rushes over them, and everything is pitch black. The Crewman releases her leaving her alone in darkness. The torches must have been blown out during her attack.

  Shuffling her feet around on the stone ground, Margo feels out for the wall and nearly trips over what feels like a curb. At any moment the dozens of Guardsmen around her would surely strike. She reaches for the sword that is not on her hip. She panics when she realizes it’s missing and that she probably dropped it during the torture. She braces herself for the coming fight.

  The ground trembles beneath her feet as if a stampede is charging toward them. A light suddenly whips around the corner, a hand on Margo’s cheek, and her body is plastered against the wall. But it is too tight a fit! She is dragged into the wall, somehow melding into the stone.

  A train roars past blaring a series of screeches from its track. Margo’s face remains pressed into the wall but she is able to see what is happening. The rush of wind beats against her cheek. A shrill scream escapes. And then, the train rides off into the darkness, the thunderous sounds fading away.

  Panting and shaking, Margo is pulled out of the wall and becomes whole again. She scrambles away from the Crewman.

  “Stay back!” she warns, rummaging through her bag. She cannot make any sense of this. Her fingers feel around the inside of her bag until at last she feels the small metal tube attached to a ring and clicks the little keychain flashlight on to find his face.

  “Whoa! Easy there,” he says protecting his eyes from the light.

  She swallows hard, standing in the dark tunnel.

  “Who are you? No… It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head, baffled. “Did you just save me?”

  “I think you saved me,” he muses.

  The way he quirks his brow is unsettling. He couldn’t possibly mean that…?

  Pressing her back into the wall, Margo feels around her bag for her cell phone. “Stay back,” she warns.

  “Whatever you say, doll.”

  “Found it!” she says, pushing aside his remark. She presses the power button of the side of her phone and waits for it to turn completely on. And there it is: though faint, her phone shows that it has service.

  “We’re back?” she whispers to herself. “Back in the Real World?”

  The Crewman whistles. “Looks different from when I was last here. All this fuss over getting home from you occupants…. I almost prefer the Queen’s place.”

  “Will you shut it?!”

  Margo holds his glare, which he can’t see because she still has her light trained on his eyes.

  A light! Beyond the curve of the tunnel, she can make out a faint glow. The irony of that sentence gives her chills, but she begins walking toward the light all the same, the noisy Crewman on her heel.

  A million thoughts race through her head. Firstly, why are she and this man the only two in this train tunnel? Her gut tells her there was no finality in whatever act caused them to escape. Which brings her to the next question she’s almost afraid to ask: what happened to Cameron and Ian?

  She misses a step. The Crewman reaches out for her arm, catching her fall. She carries on without a word.

  “I’m Luka, by the way.” He stretches out a hand, and then slowly pulls it away after receiving Margo’s cold glare.

  Why a tunnel? Of all places, why would they end up here?

  She clicks off the flashlight when they reach the lighted part of the tunnel. The tracks curve to the left after another minute’s walk and were soon joined by a second track on the other side of a concrete barrier. Faint yellow lights line the walls.

  “I think it’s a subway,” Margo says.

  “Come again?”

  She rolls her eyes. It’s hard to accept that someone so lethal in that world can be so naive in this one.

  “Not going to give me your name, are you?” Luka asks.

  Her lips in a tight line, she turns away curtly. “Margo.”

  “Ahh, Margo… The New Mark. First to ever leave Jamyria.” His eyes meet hers. “Her Majesty’s going to be very upset with you.”

  The blood drains from her cheeks thinking of Cameron.

  Light floods ahead of them from an open space. The Crewman pushes Margo on top of a ledge when she is unable to pull herself up; she thanks him begrudgingly. As casually as possible, they walk away from the track they just scrambled out of and into the station. No one notices them.

  Margo sits down on the first bench she sees, without another glance at Luka, wondering what she could have possibly done, and if she’d really destroyed Jamyria.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: The Acceptance

  A knee cuts into the back of Cameron’s neck making it impossible to breathe. His legs flail out behind him but are unable to catch hold of anything. It’s over. They lost. From the moment Margo disappeared, he knew there was nothing left.

  The Crewman shifts his weight barely allowing him to suck in a breath of air before his back buckles from a painful blow.

  “There’s no need for anymore.” The voice is ice splitting the heat of battle. Such a half-hearted command, yet so final. The man pulls Cameron to his knees, holding him by the wrists to prevent him from lashing out any further. But Cameron is out of strength both physically and emotionally.

  They took her away from him. Margo has vanished, and it’s his fault for going along with her stupid idea of destroying that globe. He recalls the Queen’s smirk as Margo tried splitting it open. She couldn’t even leave a scratch.

  Head dangling, Cameron turns his face to see his ally held captive, as well. Ian stands between two Crewmen, arms at his sides. They flank him, faces hard but wearing a slight look of confusion.

  What has Ian done now?

  “Working with the Marked One is a serious offense.” The Queen breaks the silence, her voice as cold as the white marble room. Three staccato footsteps let Cameron know she is approaching, but he cannot take his eyes off of Ian.

  Can’t the Guard see he is the stronger of the two? When they fought in the woods, the Crewmen tripled up on Ian from the moment they’d crossed blades. Now they stand almost casually around him. Why is that?

  “A crime equal to death. Of course, if I killed everyone who wished to escape my world or chose to associate themselves with the Marked One, my work would continually suffer.” Nails dig into Cameron’s scalp, and his eyes are suddenly boring into the Queen’s ferocious greys. “Your name, boy?”

  Every cell in his body is deadened. His usual annoyance with anyone working for the Queen fades as he stares into the face of every Jamyrian’s fears. A single breath and his life is over. “Cameron,” he splutters.

  “You have failed your Queen gravely.”

  A ragged, fearful gasp falls from his lips.

  She releases her marked fist, letting his head fall limp again. “And you.” Cameron catches sight of her smoky lavender dress trailing behind like a silvery waterfall as she crosses over to Ian. “You had better explain yourself quickly, Ian Tanner.”

  She knows his name.

  It is the same smile he wears when joking with Margo. The same smile that sickens Cameron every time Ian talks his way out a lie. But he is certain that this time when he wears his annoying crooked smirk, Ian Tanner is not lying.

  “I only did what you asked of your Crew, Your Majesty. I brought the Marked One to you.”

  The pulling of ligaments shoots fire through Cameron’s arms. He wasn’t even aware he lunged for Ian until the Crewman pulls against him. “You bastard! Margo trusted you.”

  He tries to break away again, but this time the pain sends him to his knees.

  “You led her straight to the Queen!”

  Ian belts out in laughter. “And she was stupid enough to walk right into the castle, too.”

  He lunges again, and this time the fire hit his face. A light as bright as the globe washes over him. When he cracks open his eyelids, he fin
ds himself looking up to Ian’s back and lying in a warm, sticky liquid.

  “…seems I played my part well,” Ian is saying.

  “Yes.” The Queen sits perched on her throne, fingers interlocked and her chin resting upon her hands. “You won’t ever let me doubt you again.” It is more a statement than a question.

  “You know where my heart is, Your Majesty.” Ian bows.

  “No…” Cameron moans.

  “For ridding Jamyria of the New Mark, you may walk the land once again.” The Queen’s lips pull into a beautiful smile.

  “No more water?” His tone sounds surprised.

  She shakes her head. “Take him to his quarters to tidy up,” she says to her Crew. “Show him your highest respect.”

  Ian bows for a second time before turning to leave and patting another Crewman on the back as if they are old pals.

  Cameron thrusts himself forward, an arm wrapping around him like a rock. “You killed her, Ian. You took Margo away from me!”

  “Killed her?” Eyes black as onyx meet Cameron’s glare. “Hardly.”

  A sudden jolt of hope floods Cameron. Not dead? Could that mean that…? No, that would be impossible.

  But not for a Mark.

  “Oh, Ian.” Voice once again thick as ice, the Queen stops him just as his hand encircles the platinum doorknob. His back tenses before he turns back. “I do hope you are telling me the truth, and that you have no further attachment to your friend here. If there is anything you wish to tell me, speak now.”

  Cameron shakes at the fierceness in her words, but Ian simply looks down at him in disgust. “He is no friend of mine. Do what you please to him.”

  The door closes, echoing through the Queen’s chambers.

  *

  They aren’t coming. Margo and the Crewman had been sitting on the bench for over an hour watching the changing crowd before them. If Cameron or Ian had been freed, they surely would have come by now.

  “You don’t even know what you did, do you?” Luka breaks the silence.

  Margo perks up slightly, then drops her chin back to her knees.

  “I had you. You’re not a very good fighter, you know. I rammed you into the globe because it was the closest thing I could pin you against; you wouldn’t stop wiggling. Then your mark lit up, and I figured you would try to take me down. But I felt the globe, just like when I entered. Only it felt like fire this time, not ice.”

  She buries her face in the crook of her elbow. “So I ran? Subconsciously, I ran.”

  Luka remains silent.

  “My mark does this thing,” she tries to explain, “where it acts on its own. Like it’s keeping me safe.”

  He lets out a sound of understanding. “So that’s how you picked off Saul… And that idiot thought he could be a Noble.” He chuckles.

  “Aren’t you going to try to kill me, or something?” she mumbles, her mouth still buried in the fabric of her shirt.

  He pauses, considering. “Nah, what difference would that make? Jamyria’s done for us. Now we’re onto better things. Although, I still don’t understand what makes this box of a world so special.”

  Margo sits up out of annoyance. “We’re at a subway station. Underground transportation; meaning, we’re underground. You don’t know anything, do you?”

  Tenderly touching the gash across her forehead, Margo thinks about Freya and selfishly wishes she could borrow her gift. Guilt washes over her. Freya would trade her gift in an instant if it meant she could be sitting where Margo sits.

  It isn’t fair! Her fist knots her hair. For eight days, she fought for escape. Not for herself, but for Cameron. And all she’s accomplished is saving her own neck and betraying the boy she loves and the boy she befriended. It isn’t fair that she’s returned empty-handed. Or that the only two to escape are herself — the one sent to save the others of the world and had doubts about finding an escape to begin with — and a Crewman — who aided in the world’s corruption. And what was it worth? Nothing.

  Well, not nothing.

  As Luka said, she’s the first to ever leave Jamyria. In a sense, she’s accomplished what she set out to do, partially. She has discovered an exit.

  She shuts her eyes as a tear slips out. The shadows of two very different faces are burned under her lids. The boy she’s befriended and grown to love over the past few days as if he were her own brother. And the boy whose love will never be able to escape her no matter how many worlds away.

  Two people with whom she cannot live without. “I have to get back into Jamyria.”

  It is, or so it has been said, her destiny.

  COMING SOON:

  Jamyria: The Acceptance

  The second book of the Jamyria Series

  Jamyria: The Delivery

  The third book of the Jamyria Series

  Jamyria: The Inception

  The fourth book of the Jamyria Series

  Jamyria: The Resurrected

  The fifth book of the Jamyria Series

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

  I live on the outskirts of Austin, Texas — the Live Music Capital of the World, filled with a diverse group of people, more allergens than imaginable, and wildflowers galore — with my husband and best friend, Jason, and two silly kids, Myra and Jaden.

  Jamyria: The Entering came to me as a recurring nightmare. I found that making up happy endings to the nightmare helped suppress it, but the more lucid my dreams became, the more I longed to continue them. Odd and unnerving as they were, I was intrigued by the nightmare. I began writing the dreams in the form of a screenplay. But soon lines and scenes expanded into prose and diction, ending in the first draft of Jamyria: The Entering.

  Tidwell Hollow is a special place. It is home to Margo Grisby in “The Jamyria Series.” Growing up my parents owned a farm in St. Joseph, Tennessee, a plot of land off a dirt road. The area had been dubbed Tidwell Hollow by the locals. There was a creek to play in, a pond big enough to canoe on and fish in, wildlife ranging from deer to river otters to copperheads, an Indian mound, a huge cave in the side of the neighbor’s mountain (which was more of a small hill), woods to get lost in, a huge red barn, and a tree that was home to dozens of owls. Here we found bliss.

  Copyright © 2015 by Madeline Meekins

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition, 2015

  ISBN978-1-943847-27-3

  www.MadelineMeekins.com

 

 

 


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