“Let’s go now!”
James led her down the halls to parts of the castle she was unfamiliar with. He opened a door, and she walked inside.
“Wesley!” she called, looking into the darkness of the room. “Where is he?”
Hearing the tinge of metal, she spun as James sliced her arm with a blade. She noticed the black iron before she felt the burning in her veins.
Her lungs filled with fire as she coughed against it. She pulled her blade to fight, but James stepped back out of reach.
“These blades are more potent in smaller sizes, you know. Less surface area for the blood.” He grinned, looking at her red blood on his blade.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes flickering with magic. She heard another set of feet.
“Just condemning another witch. No wonder Wesley is smitten with you.” Growled the General’s voice. Her legs gave out as she collapsed on the floor. Her breaths were ragged. “You bewitched him but don’t worry. He’ll be free of you soon.”
Serena tried to speak or move, but the burning immobilized her until everything faded into black.
Chapter Sixteen
Wesley
Wesley groaned, his mouth full of blood. His entire body hurt, covered in bruises. He took a shaky breath, pulling his arms under himself. Slowly he pushed himself up to his knees, pain rippling through him. His father’s words rung through his head as he slowly regained consciousness.
“Serena,” he gasped out. The door opened and James rushed in.
“Thank the ancestors you’re up!” James said, bending next to him. He swung his arm under Wesley’s pulling him to his feet. Wesley looked around the cold empty room, vaguely remembering his father pulling him inside.
“Where’s Serena?”
“Missing,” James said. Wesley felt his heart drop. “I have people looking.”
“The General has her. He warned me. He’ll kill her.” He said, fear slipping into his voice. He thought back on his father’s words.
“If they make a fool of me, I will make a fool of you. As my son, you should be doing more. Stopping them from these baseless claims. If you don’t, I’ll kill her. Your precious little pretend mercenary will be dead by sunrise.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me. He thinks she is the only thing that will motivate me. If I anger him, he’ll hurt her until he kills her. James, please. We must find where he has her. Search the dungeons. The entire castle and grounds. We need to find her.” Wesley pleaded, barely able to hold his weight.
“You need a doctor before we start searching.” James returned.
“No, James! Please forget about me and find her!” Wesley snapped, gripping his shirt in his fists. He could feel his heart threatening to break as it beat progressively louder and louder. His lungs constricted as if her disappearance took the air from inside. He took shallow breaths, feeling like the entire room spun in towards him.
“Take a breath.” James said. “I can’t do that until you see a doctor, so help me get you back to your room. Then I will find her,”
Wesley shook his head, but James wrapped an arm around him. Wesley relented and forced his body to move faster despite the pain. It was a miracle no one spotted the two as they made it to his room. He dropped Wesley on the bed.
“I’ll be back in a moment,”
Wesley laid looking up at the top of his bed. Tears stung his eyes as it all came crashing down on him. He yelled out into the empty air and closed his eyes.
His father had grabbed him by the throat after the trial. He disarmed him and threw him into an empty room. The General held nothing back, using him as a punching bag and feeding him lies over and over again. It was hard not to believe the words he said. Warnings of his incompetence. Warnings that he’d pay for it. Warnings of what he’d do to Serena. So many struck deeper than they should. He couldn’t help but crumble under the words he said to himself spewed from the mouth of the man who was supposed to protect him.
Panic nearly forced him back to his feet. His father’s promise rang in his ears. He had to do something. He tried to sit up but winced at the immense pain. Normally, it might stop him, but his heart begged him to do more. He had to do more. Trying again, he hissed in a breath as the doctor rushed in. The doctor pushed Wesley back and inspected his wounds. James watched as the doctor worked.
“James please start searching.”
“I have people looking. Just let the doctor finish.”
Wesley felt a release from the physical pain as his wounds were bandaged. The mental torment continued like a rising tide.
“You need to rest, Captain. A few days in bed-” the doctor began.
“Not happening. Give me something for the pain and you can leave.” Wesley said, sitting up. James sighed and grabbed a powder from the doctor’s bag.
“Here,” he said. Wesley took it, dropping it onto his tongue. It was bitter as all medicine was. He forced himself to his feet, stumbling onward His whole body shook, ready to collapse. He caught himself on the nearby wall.
He couldn’t rest. Not until he saw Serena safe. The idea of her in his father’s hands destroyed him. His knees buckled as he slid against the wall to the ground. James rushed to catch him, but Wesley pushed him away.
He held onto the wall as strangled breaths left his lips. Tears slid down his cheeks. He couldn’t let the General steal another person he loved from him.
James bent next to him and placed a hand on his back. “Wesley,”
“Where have you already looked?”
“We checked the cottages. I haven’t had the time to inform Daryl yet. We can start there.” James offered.
Wesley used the wall to get back to his feet. He needed to be stronger. He leaned against the wall trying to ignore the aching of his heart, but each beat of his heart pushed the further into his veins.
He slammed his fist into the wall. He would not let this happen. His father would not take her from him. Even his father would not stop him. Not this time.
He pushed off the wall, turning to James. “Let’s go,”
James hovered nearby as Wesley shuffled through the halls towards Daryl’s room. He would help and if Sam was around that would be another person looking. His legs shook, but he pressed on through the hall to Daryl’s.
He pushed open the door. Daryl walked out of his office and stared at Wesley.
“Wesley!” He rushed to help his friend to a seat.
“My father. He has her. You need to help find her. Please. He’ll kill her!” Wesley said, collapsing into a seat.
“I’ll start looking.” Growled Sam walking out from Daryl’s office. He stood buttoning his shirt, a glare on his face. Wesley felt it pierce him. He knew why. Sam blamed him for not protecting her.
“Let’s go,” Wesley said trying to stand, but his legs gave out. His whole body was giving up, but his mind refused. Not yet. Not until she was safe.
“You need to rest. We’ll start looking.” Daryl said. Wesley felt his eyelids getting heavy. He tried to fight.
“No,” he whispered, his head bobbing.
“Wesley?” Daryl bent, looking at him.
“He’s fine. I gave him some meds to make him sleep. His body is in ruins. He needs to rest and we can try to find her. The castle has a lot of spots to hide, just one prisoner.” James said.
Wesley felt anger at James for tricking him, but his thoughts soon fell away into the darkness as he fell asleep.
Wesley woke suddenly, sitting up on the couch in Daryl’s room. His body exploded in pain. He hissed in a breath before rolling to sit up. The window revealed the night sky and Wesley scowled. He stood swaying on his feet at the doors opened.
“You’re up,” Daryl commented.
“Where is she?” Wesley growled, infuriated by James’ trick.
“Still missing,” Daryl sighed. “We checked the entire castle and the grounds. We’ve talked to servants and anyone who could have seen anything.”
“Wesley, I know you want to find her. Ancestors know I do too, but the trial is continuing. Your father expects you there in the morning.”
“And how am I to defend my father?” Wesley snapped. He looked down at the bruises on my body. “What am I to say I fell down the stairs?”
“Wesley-” Daryl began.
“You’re all useless. I’ll find her myself.” He spat his anger getting the best of him. He walked past Daryl.
“Wesley please,”
Wesley ignored the worry in his friend’s voice, instead focusing on getting to Helen’s.
He reached the blue door and knocked. Helen opened the door.
“Wesley. We haven’t heard anything yet. Have-”
“Where did she go that night?”
“To see Daryl. Then she never returned after.” Helen explained.
“Sit,” Michalina said, looking over at him.
“I don’t have time-” he growled.
“Yes, you do. Your ancestors won’t be able to help you, but our Gods might.”
“What are your Gods going to do? Smite my father? Raise Serena from the dead?”
“She isn’t dead yet. Do you want my help?”
Wesley grumbled to himself as he collapsed into a chair in front of Michalina.
“What-”
“Shut up and listen, Captain. Serena is a daughter of Altara. Death will not find her easy, not with her Goddess shielding her. She would never reveal Serena to you, regardless of how much you love her. You need the help of another God.” She said pulling out a medallion. Wesley stared at the symbol of an eagle holding a rose. “Midhor the God of War and Love. I think he’d be sympathetic to your plight.”
“You want me to pray to your God? I’m not Acrean. I’m Templarian they have no reason to listen to me.”
“Gods are not as short-sighted as us. Most do not care about the birth of a person but their mettle. You’ve lived between war and love your entire life. Why wouldn’t Midhor answer you in a time of need? I don’t think he’ll be doing anything grand for you, but he might just tell you if you’re near her. This is his medallion. If you ask and pray, he might illuminate it when you’re near her as a beacon to find her.” She said handing it to him. The heavy medallion sat in his hand. He stared down at it.
“If not for you, for her. Midhor might answer.” Michalina said. Wesley shook his head.
“I-”
“The Gods are real. Don’t forget that, and they’re paying attention now. The fate of Acreage is in our hands and they have every reason to sway it in our favor.” She explained. Wesley stood and hung the medallion on his neck. Without another word, he left his thoughts muddled around Gods and finding Serena.
He walked the grounds himself, looking down at the medallion, waiting for something to happen. Disappointment filled his chest as nothing happened. It remained just another piece of metal. He wasn’t sure what he expected.
“Lies.” He growled, pacing the castle. He felt lost in the darkness of night. Every corner and shadow he peered into and found empty seemed to only add to the weight growing on his shoulder.
If she was already dead, he’d burn it all down. The castle. The King. His father. They would all pay.
He looked at the medallion again. His fingers folded around it as he held it tighter. He was desperate enough to pray to Gods for her. He would do much worse for her.
“Midhor God of Love and War if you’re real and you don’t care that I’m Templarian, I could use a hand. I need to find Serena. This is your medallion.” He said praying to a God for the first time in his life. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. The night air was silent. There was no majestic beam of divine power. No sense he was even heard. His faith in such things felt smaller than before. What use were Gods?
He pulled the medallion under his shirt and went to his room. Tomorrow the trial would continue, and he had to prepare to defend his father. The thought rose bile in his throat.
No. He could not do this.
Serena.
He took a shuddering breath. For her, he’d do just about anything. He settled into sleep, letting it steal him away.
As he slept, he dreamed of a large man with reddish-brown hair and a matching beard. He wore armor with an ax on his back and a sword on his hip. An eagle flew overhead.
“Never had a Spiritless pray to me before, but you are both love and war. I will be watching. Prove yourself and I will reward you.” The man said. He looked down at Wesley.
“You’re Midhor,” Wesley gasped, staring. The God laughed, his laughter seeming to fill the strange divine space.
“Aye, I am. I offer you one warning. A God’s help always comes at a cost.”
“I need to find Serena. She’s a daughter of Altara. My ancestors can’t help.”
“No, they cannot. They are meant to guide you, not find our children. My medallion will show you, but remember there is a cost. A minor task this time only requires blood freely given.”
“Take what you need,” Wesley said.
Midhor smiled. “Spread your blood over the medallion and it will work. I’ll be watching, son of Templaria. Perhaps there’s hope for your kind yet.” He said before shifting into an eagle and flying away. The eagle left the dream, shifting into mindless images and thoughts as Wesley recovered his strength for the day to come.
He’d find her. He had to.
Chapter Seventeen
Serena
Serena woke to the sudden crack of a rib. Her breath left as pain rolled through her body like a tsunami. Her heart raced as she grew aware of every sound and movement in the dark room she was in. Looking up, she saw the General towering over her. A sinister grin sat on his lips.
“Pitiful creature,” He landed another swift kick, his boot breaking another rib. She coughed out a breath, curling into a ball against the pain. The General nodded to another man who grabbed her by her hair and forced her to her knees.
“Now. You and I are going to have a little talk.” He said pulling over a stool and sitting before her. “I want to know everything about this trial. Who is really running it? Is it my son? I know he’s not smart enough to do this alone and a woman like you is useless, so who? Henry?”
Serena met his eyes with a fiery glare and smirked. He would not be the one to break her.
His rough fingers grabbed her by the chin, yanking her closer.
“Speak!” he snapped his face inches from her. She spat in his face, enjoying the moment of shock on his face before his fist connected with her jaw. Her head snapped to the side. The pain barely registered. She found the cold dark room in her mind prepared for such times as this. Assassins trained not to break when interrogated. He wouldn’t break her.
She looked back at the General.
“That’s fine. I was hoping you’d choose to be difficult.” He nodded to a figure holding her hair. The man released her hair and snatched her shackled wrist, using them to pull her to her feet. She swung her leg out trying to connect with his knee, but the shackles on her ankles made it too slow. The man avoided her attempt and hung her wrists above her head on a hook. It was uncomfortably high as she had to reach up on her toes to ease the pressure on her wrists.
The General watched with a predatory gaze. He sat still for several more moments as Serena struggled to balance her wrists. The pull of her arms above her head inflamed her chest as it pulled her muscles taunt.
The creak of wood drew her attention. The General stood and in a rush of movement grabbed the stool and clammed it into her chest. She saw white as the pain echoed through her entire body, but her face remained passive. She picked a stone on the wall ahead and focused on it.
Undeterred, the General pulled out his sword. The sharp scraping of the blade against the scabbard rang in her ears, but she still focused on the stone. He placed the cool edge against her cheek.
“Tell me what I want, and I promise to make it quick.”
No. She wanted to scream it at him over and over again, but she bit back the urge. Serena remained mute, refusing to react. He sliced her cheek with the black blade, the edge of heat entering her sore veins. The throbbing pain was much less than the cut James gave her.
The General clicked his tongue before punching her like a training bag. His fist connected with her flesh and bones, breaking and bruising everything in its path. Each blow was harder than the last as the heat in her veins slowly dissolved her resolve. The pain slipped into her mind as her body broke.
A scream escaped her throat from an especially hard hit to her side. The General stopped, a grin on his face.
“Do it again.” He grabbed her face, putting his mouth next to her ear. “Scream as loud as you want. No one will ever hear you.”
Fighting the pain, she ignored his words, trying to remember to look at the room. A stone square room with one door in. No windows. Just the two torches by the door. Nothing to discern where she was.
Another punch to the chest released another scream as tears slipped down her cheeks from the pain. There was no holding back this torment. It consumed her as her legs shook, too weak to continue holding her up.
Her knees gave way, her weight suddenly on the cruel shackles that bit into her wrists. Trying to ease the pain, she tried to stand up straight, but her legs collapsed again.
Delirious from the pain, she looked up and saw a specter of a woman standing behind the General. She was cloaked in a black shawl with daggers on her waist. For a moment she wondered if she was seeing an image of herself, but the specter spoke.
“My child,” her gentle voice lulled. She pulled off the shawl, exposing a crown of bones.
Altara.
A muffled laugh escaped her throat. For so long Serena prayed to Altara to save her. Save her from the pain of life, but she was not done. She refused to die with so much unfinished.
Suddenly, her wrists were released from the air and she collapsed onto the floor. The General spat at her.
The Trial of a Tyrant: The Assassin of Acreage Book Two Page 16