The rush hit his body like a wave, flowing without regulation and without permission. The magic spilled over the barriers he had placed in his mind. More and more, the power spread through his veins and was released forcefully into his body where it rushed directly towards the balls of mage-glow. Jaylen yelped as the sheer power slammed into his soul and robbed him of air in his lungs.
"Yes! There it is. Feel yourself being cleansed, Jaylen Corrifus. Let your body and your mind fade away into nothing. Embrace your death, Finalis."
If only he could. Jaylen wanted to die, for this agony to end, but all he felt was his increasing desperation. This was worse than even his enduring of the soul purge exorcism. There, he was whipped and branded. Nails were driven through his hands to hold him against the board in the square. But this was much, much worse. The relentless surging of his magic made every bone and muscle in his body cry out in searing pain. Jaylen's eyesight was one of the first things to leave him. Everything went blurry with flashes of red and blinding white light.
Drawing a breath delivered not relief, but all-encompassing and shocking anguish, a sinking nerve-severing sensitization that intensified every other feeling that filled him. His distress garnered no hint of mercy from the sadistic angel who held him captive. Instead, Jaylen saw flickers of obvious entertainment in Tarael's eyes. What could cause a holy angel to take pride in doing this to someone?
Tarael ran his soft fingers through Jaylen's sweat-slicked bangs. "Oh, young Finalis, your agony is a beautiful sight. Your every moan and whimper proves the cleansing of your condemned soul. Let it all out. Give a voice to your torment. Scream for me!"
Jaylen had little choice but to obey his command. He screamed and jerked against the metal shackles as his magic surged over and over to fill the balls of mage-glow against his will. Sweat poured from his quivering body, turning his skin a shade of deep red and pooling under his bare back on the metal table.
Once Tarael had his fill of sadistic pleasure, he left the mage-glow under Jaylen's skin and left the room, shutting the heavy door behind him. This was Jaylen's chance to do something, but all he could focus on was the pain and the weakness of his cramping muscles. It took every last scrap of energy and willpower to draw a full breath, only to have it ripped from his lungs as he screamed. Jaylen's body wanted to die, but his soul wanted nothing more than to live. With one last glimmer of determination, he spoke hoarsely through his gasping. "Finalis . . . take . . . over."
When nothing happened, Jaylen yelled louder than he ever had before. "Finalis!"
Suddenly, a powerful force surrounded him, dulling the pain and easing the severe cramping. He gasped as the steel bindings snapped in half. With a few shameless tears of glorious relief, Jaylen slid off of the metal table, but crumpled to the floor under his weak and shaking legs. As Jaylen pulled himself up, he watched in awe as the glowing balls of mage-glow quickly faded then vanished, leaving him bloody and sore, but alive.
He had to get out of here before Tarael returned to finish him off. But even faced with that urgency, Jaylen couldn't leave the room unclothed. He rummaged through the few cabinets along the walls until he found a towel and wrapped it around his waist. It would have to do. There may have been better options, but Jaylen's mind was in no condition for critical thinking and problem solving. As soon as he was at least moderately clothed, he slipped through the doorway and out into the long dark hallway.
* * *
Kato hid underneath the large hood of her black cloak with a mask around her eyes as she rowed the small boat through the dark waters surrounding the Inquisition-controlled island of Palo. It was the closest target she could find once she received the devastating news from Zeriel that Jaylen had been taken to the Angelic Court in The Veil. She had to get away from it all and clear her mind in the only way she knew how.
Once she was near the brush-covered rocky shore, Kato reached out and grabbed a nearby low-hanging branch. With one graceful leap, she swung across the muddy water to land behind a dead bush. She slid her hand to her belt to make sure that her emerald-jeweled cutlass was still there and ready for use if it came down to it. She planned to use it well and liberally when the time called for it. If those inquisitors and their allied angels took something from her, she would take from them tenfold.
The soft soles of Kato's boots made no sound on the cobblestones that she ran swiftly across, darting in and out of the shadows created by the streetlamps. The cool air prickled her skin and enticed a flame of excitement, hunger, and anger in her that could only be extinguished through blood. When she skidded to a stop and pressed up against the wall of a building in a narrow alley, she saw her first chance at spilling that necessary blood.
Two inquisitors, dressed in their black and gold plate armor were chuckling and gossiping lackadaisically on the street corner. She studied them, their movements, their words from behind their helmets, and their breathing that sent fog into the night air. One of them had a foreign accent that she couldn't quite place and the other was obviously tipsy from drinking from the flask at his hip. Werewolves howled in the distance, but the inquisitors took no notice. Once Kato was sure the two men were distracted by their own foolish merriment, she drew her cutlass from her hip and approached them from behind.
She had fought against enough soldiers to know the weak points in their armor and how slow it made them. Though these inquisitors were wearing much more than some leather and chainmail, Kato knew what to do. She stepped up to the short one and thrust her blade between the gaps in his armor that ran under his left pauldron. Before the other could sound the alarm, Kato spun around and dragged her blade across his neck, just barely finding enough room for the metal to find flesh. They both dropped to the street.
The first man groaned as he pried his helmet off then collapsed in his partner's blood.
Kato froze as she glanced from the helmet that rolled away to the man's face. Black skin. Purple eyes. White runes and hair. A Ka'taylin? Kato covered her mouth with her trembling hand and gasped, backing away from the dying man. What had she done?
The man reached out to her. "Please . . . Alna iveri collu i'zitem. Xair."
An ally? Kato dropped to her knees on the blood-soaked stones and pressed her hand against the deep gash in the Ka'taylin's back. "Talk to me. What do you know?"
"Tell . . . Xair . . . our people . . . alive."
"Who are you?" Kato asked. "Give me a name."
"Dayxi Nendo. Xair . . . knows me."
"Dayxi, open your eyes. You can't go to sleep now. Dayxi!"
Then in an instant, all the life drained from the man's deep purple eyes and he was forevermore motionless. Kato had seen death close to her many times, enough to know that she could not have saved the man, no matter what she had done. Her blade had penetrated the weak point in his armor, puncturing his left lung and his heart. There was no hope of even a normally immortal Ka'taylin surviving those wounds.
Kato glanced around in the darkness to make sure that there had been no witnesses before unbuckling the straps of Dayxi's cuirass. Knowing what Xair had told her before, all Ka'taylins carried some piece of identifiable jewelry on them that was unique to them. If she could find this man's jewelry, she could deliver it to Xair. But how could she ever gain the courage to tell him that she had killed a Ka'taylin who claimed to know him by name? There were far more important things to attend to at that point in time.
As she continued removing the dead man's armor, Kato scoured his body for anything identifiable. The first thing she found was a golden identification ring in the man's right ear. She had seen those used on cattle and on some of the earlier slave ships. It made her want to vomit. So this Ka'taylin was a slave, perhaps forced to join the Inquisition and serve beside his owner. But no one in history had ever enslaved Ka'taylins. As a race, they were overall too weak for physical labor. They preferred to think of themselves as the superior race that would one day rule all of Aldexa by their superior intellect and arcane abilities. Besid
es, all the history records stated that Ka'taylins were the slave owners, not the other way around. Didn't Xair have slaves at one point in time? This man seemed young, but so did Xair. With Ka'taylins being able to alter their physical age, it would be impossible to know how old the man truly was. If Xair had been right about all the Ka'taylins dying, this man must have been taken as a slave before Xair killed the entire continent.
Then Kato found what she was searching for. A thin silver bracelet with large turquoise stones. She unclasped it and slipped it off to reveal the runes engraved on the inside of the stones. Xair would be able to read them and possibly give more insight into who this man used to be. A part of Kato wanted Dayxi to have been lying about knowing Xair. Anything else would be crushing.
Kato stuffed the bracelet into the pocket of her pants then dashed out of the yellow light, hoping that no one spotted her. Now she wanted to steal something to stick it to these inquisitors who would dare to enslave a harmless Ka'taylin. A thick fog drifted down from the tops of the buildings and settled like a veil on the streets. She spotted a light through the fog and ran straight towards it. The only buildings that had lights on at this time of night were shops to deter robberies. But that deterrence was like a lighthouse for Kato, drawing her in.
She knelt down in front of the backdoor and began picking the old rusty lock with her tools. In a matter of seconds, her practiced hands had unlocked the lock with a quick pop. She slipped inside the general goods store, breathing a sigh of relief when she found the one room shop empty. But not too empty. Dropping down behind the counter, she quickly found the metal cash box. Kato's mouth watered. It was full from a productive day of transactions. Just when her elation reached its peak, the front door of the shop opened. She got down behind the wooden crates of spices and expensive elaborately-woven rugs. This was not good.
A group of four men entered the shop, all laughing and carrying on about some dancer they met in the tavern. Kato could smell the alcohol from where she was hiding. Through the rugs, she watched the men clambering around, holding her breath as one of them came around to her side of the counter to retrieve a bottle of dark rum and four glasses. Kato remained deathly still, not even blinking her eyes as the man brushed against her foot. The man stopped and kicked the stack of rugs before laughing and joining his friends at the table.
For nearly an hour, Kato stayed there as the men played a game of cards. She thought she would never be able to leave, but her fears were soon calmed and renewed at the same time. A piercing scream filled the night, followed by the barking of werewolves and the shouting of their inquisitors, issuing commands. The drunken men stumbled out the door, leaving overturned chairs and spilt rum dripping onto the wood floor.
Kato leapt into action. She grabbed the cash box and raced out of the door. No sooner had her boots crossed over the doorway that a heavy and authoritative hand grabbed the nape of her neck. She stopped instantly, paralyzed by fear and the iron grasp that only tightened against her skin. Her arms were filled with the heavy loot, so she couldn't draw her cutlass in time. This was it, the end of it all. The only thing she could do now was try to explain herself. "Sir, this isn't what you think it is. I am the daughter of the merchant who owns this store and he asked me to retrieve this for him."
"What have you done?"
That voice. She knew that voice. "Zeriel?"
The angel spun her around and shook his head. His white eyes showed his disappointment. Without another word, he picked her up, spread his black wings, then flew off into the sky.
Chapter 7
Black rose petals drifted down from the vaulted ceiling in front of Jaylen's path. He stopped and looked around for any sign of the young seraph he knew would be accompanying them. His escape had just been cut tragically short. Even when he was at full power and healthy, he didn't stand much of a chance against Nimiel.
A young blond angel with grey eyes that matched his stone-colored wings and a crown of black roses on his head dropped down from the rafters, landing gracefully on the roughly-hewn floor. He drew his twin thin shortswords from his back and pointed their glinting tips directly at Jaylen. "Halt."
There was nothing Jaylen could do but beg for a quick death. "Nimiel . . . I can't fight you. I'm too weak from the magic draining. Go ahead and do it. Kill me. Just make it quick. Don't take me back in there to that torture. If I ever helped you, please show me this tiny scrap of mercy."
Nimiel stood there at the opposite end of the hallway and stared at him for what felt like an eternity. "Are you evil?"
"What? I-I don't think so. Yes, it's true that Finalis is a part of me. Maybe he always has been. But what I do know is that I want to make this right. If these angels kill me and give my soul to Carvael completely, then I will never be able to figure out the truth with Sola and the scriptures. If I am to pay for my sins, then at least let me attempt to atone. You know me, Nim. You know we were friends at one point back before we went to Ka'tayl and all the stuff happened with Divinus. I didn't run away to leave you behind. I had to get away from everything. I was overwhelmed and-"
Nimiel cut him off as he slid his dual swords back in his belt. "Stop, Jaylen. I don't like seeing you beg. You're so pathetic. It's sad. Part of my mission is to ensure that Finalis is destroyed. But that doesn't mean that I have to destroy Jaylen Corrifus in the process. I came here to help you and to apologize. I believe that Jeremiah and I can work together to find a way to reverse this apostasy. I know there has to be a way. You helped me when no one else cared. Now it's my time to return that kindness. We have to get outside to the dragons."
"Dragons? Why are the dragons being held in The Veil?" Jaylen asked. "I thought Carvael had them in his underground palace."
"He did, until recently when they were transferred up here. They are being forced to take angels as riders."
"You're joking."
"I wish I was. Even if the dragons already had riders, the angels whipped them until they submitted. It's dangerous work to break a dragon, but these angels are dead set on it. There's one old Elder Dragon who refused to give up. He's stubborn. I managed to steal the key to his cell. We are going to set him free then reunite him with his young mate."
"Karix?" Jaylen asked.
"Yep."
Nimiel led Jaylen outside into the bleakness of the cool mist-covered grey landscape then across a small covered walkway to what appeared to be an incredibly large stable made of solid gold. The inside was just as empty as the world outside, but Jaylen could sense something stirring, something breathing slowly nearby. Even through his exhaustion, his body responded to the foreign sounds by tensing up, which only caused him more pain.
Nimiel stopped in front of a gated stall covered in various locks and bolts. Behind the slats in the golden bars, something large and black stirred. "Karixlesminatim?"
The dragon's black scales shimmered in the light as he turned around to face the gate of the stable stall. His razor sharp claws dug lines into the hard packed dirt and scattered straw. When he spoke, his voice was hissing and deep. "Jaylen Corrifus. What are you doing here? I swear, if you have lost your mind and joined up with Eternal Eclipse, I will find a way to kill you myself."
"Don't worry." Nimiel extracted a key from his pocket then started to unlock the numerous locks on the side of the gate. "Jaylen is still hated by everyone. Nothing has changed."
"Then why is he here? And why are you helping me, Nimiel?"
"Because I had my awakening and some things became very clear. I know where my allegiance truly lies now. I want you to take Jaylen back to Captain Kato's ship in the Onyx Sea."
"What about you?" Jaylen asked, looking over at the angel.
"Can't you tell? I don't have any down feathers anymore. I had my awakening, remember? So I can fly on my own."
"Oh. Congratulations."
Nimiel frowned. "Yes . . . well, I kind of miss not being fully aware of everything. That's part of the reason I am able to think more clearly and realize that
I made a mistake in attacking you back in Cilona. I know a lot more about the world and about you. Happy birthday, by the way."
"My birthday?" Jaylen asked. "What is today's date?"
"The First of Thaw."
"Oh. Everything has been going by so quickly that I hadn't even noticed."
"You're eighteen now, right?" Nimiel asked.
"Yeah, yeah I guess I am. Huh."
"Is that an important birthday for humans? Is this when you officially become an adult?"
"No. That's fifteen in Vilyron. It's just . . . eighteen is generally the earliest a man can join the Holy Order to become a paladin. I can't help but wonder how different my life would be now if I hadn't joined so young. I never would have even been at The Cleansing. That's where all this started. Zeriel wouldn't have broken the ritual to save me and Carvael wouldn't care about me in the least. I wouldn't have been marked by Gavin before that and even my magic wouldn't have been corrupted. Then Divinus wouldn't have possessed me."
Nimiel swung the gate open. "You can't live in the past."
"It sounds so simple when you say it, but it's completely different living with those unanswered questions."
"We can speak more later. I want to get back to my mate as soon as possible." Karix lifted Jaylen up and set him in one of the dips between the spikes on his back. "Hold on, Jaylen."
As he rode on the back of the black dragon, Jaylen's adrenaline that had been keeping him moving quickly began to fade. With its recession, the fatigue and soreness from his endeavor took over him. His mind felt like jelly, his muscles were throbbing constantly, and he put up little resistance to the pull of sleep that fell over him like a warm blanket.
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 17