Once he disappeared, I turned to her, “What’s the best way out of here?”
But she wasn’t listening; instead she was rummaging through a wooden case that sat on a table. I couldn’t see what she was grabbing, because her back blocked my view but soon she turned and strapped a belt of knives around her waist. She took one out of its holster and tossed it to me, where I tucked it into the waist of my pants.
“Follow me,” she said, all signs of weariness gone from her face. She was serious and ready to fight her way out.
I followed her quickly down the spiral staircase and through hall after hall. She was tense and her fingers kept twitching at every little sound. We avoided any corridor that had Lathmorians in it. The better to stay unknown. If no one knew where we were going, they couldn’t be questioned. As we made our way further into the castle and farther back, I could hear the pounding of feet readying above us. Kryssa had at least reached her father.
“In here, hurry, hurry.” Shaylee moved to the side and pushed against a small hidden doorway. I followed her into what could only be a back entrance to the kitchens, because we now stood in a large pantry stuffed with food. There was a door directly across from us that stood open a crack. I could see the pots and pans hanging from racks on the other side.
Shaylee slid both doors shut and we were enveloped in darkness. I could hear her rummaging around nearby.
“Do you need any help?” I whispered even though the walls were thick enough to keep the loudest of screams silent.
“I just, uhh, have to find—, the right—there it is!” A loud clang resounded and echoed for a moment inside the storage walls. A trap door that blended in perfectly with the other stones had been opened. Shaylee was already down the five musty stone carved steps holding a worn lit lantern in her hand. She smiled up at me.
“The palace has its secrets.”
“I would say so,” I replied. Losing no time, I scrambled down the steps and we pulled the trap door shut making sure no one would follow.
It seemed mere seconds before we reached the end of the underground tunnel. Shaylee snuffed out the lamp with one big breath and darkness shrouded over our slinking forms.
“We’ll have to go through the city,” I warned her making sure she realized what we would soon have to do. “We can try the forest, but the Hyven could be everywhere. I’m afraid more will be hidden in the forest while the others attack.” I remembered the way we had entered Hyvar. It stood to reason the Hyven would attack in a similar manner, making sure to cover all areas and avoid being discovered while also controlling who escaped.
“I know,” there was a catch in her voice, a nervousness I had never heard before. “Have your daggers ready, I might be too busy to protect you if it comes to that.”
I nodded, forgetting she could barely see my reply, but then followed her out of the underground passage. The hard point of the knife she had given me pushed against my hip, while Patrick’s dagger rested against my left forearm, ready to be used. The ground rose slowly and bushes covered the exit. Grasping in the darkness, I came up right beside Shaylee, who was still shrouded in shadows by the surrounding forestry.
Through the night air that had been so quiet earlier, we heard the sounds of fighting. There were cries, yells, screeches, and threats all cast into the sky by merfolk facing enemies, and death. I shivered, but patted Shaylee’s hand so she would follow me, and took off in the direction I had entered. All the while, Tunder’s words pounded hard in my mind.
We were on the outskirts of the city, and darted from shadow to shadow, hoping to never be discovered. The fighting was coming from the central path and we avoided it at all costs. I felt like a freight train storming through the city, with how much noise I was making. Meanwhile, Shaylee hardly made a sound behind me and every now and then she would grab my hand and beckon me down a different alleyway. They still led toward our destination but kept us as far away from the battle as possible. Everything was a blur of white plaster walls, dark shadows, and rustling branches.
Reaching a corner, I barely had time to think before Shaylee’s blades shot out from her fingers, just as a Hyven warrior launched himself around a corner directly at us. She didn’t pause for a second and ran straight at him, her blades slicing through the air with fantastic speed and deliberateness. I stood for a moment transfixed, my fingers trembling with the instinct and desire to fight with such blades.
The sound of pounding feet reached my ears, heading in our direction from behind, my brain paused for a moment wondering what to do but my body moved ahead of me. I spun on my foot and waited for the unlucky trespasser to come by. A moment later she appeared and I glanced quickly to make sure she was a Hyven soldier. Her clothing gave her away too quickly, and I threw the knife Shaylee had given me. I watched the mermaid crumple in pain. The blade stuck out of the shoulder and blood seeped from the wound. My stomach lurched, as I realized what I had just done.
I spun to see how Shaylee was doing and saw the merman was easily overpowering her. As I watched for a few more seconds I realized her speed was the only thing keeping her alive. I pulled Patrick’s dagger out of its sheath and waited with my hand cocked. I tried not to think of who had taught me to fight this way, to stand like this. But it was as if he was there, his presence hovering beside me, showing me how to hold it lightly and tightly at the same time.
I waited patiently, trying to get the perfect angle on the Hyven soldier, but somehow he always kept Shaylee’s body in the way.
It was all moving too quickly, the fighting fast and deadly. Somewhere in my head, I was reminded of the cutthroat battle I had seen on the beach when Zale had saved me from the Hyven mermen.
A sharp intake of breath came from Shaylee and she stumbled backward, her arm bleeding. The merman moved in for the kill, but not before my dagger sunk into his neck. Blood dribbled from his chin and his eyes widened. I watched, slightly in horror, as he staggered and fell face first onto the cobblestone pathway.
Thinking there was no time to lose and knowing these events would haunt my mind later, I ran over to the merman and pulled out the dagger with a sickening, sucking noise. The Hyven mermaid had passed out on the ground with the dagger attached to her shoulder. I couldn’t bring myself to flip her over and pull it out.
Turning aside, my hands slipping on the smooth hilt, I found Shaylee leaning against a wall, her right arm braced by her left hand; a deep gash running down its side. Blood oozed over her fingers.
“Come on,” I said, and placed my arm around her shoulders, she shuddered slightly in pain when I let go and we began to run again.
We were moving faster than before, now that the reality of the massacre had come so close. I kept my dagger at the ready in my right hand, if anyone was going to come after us again; I was going for the kill.
Our feet slowed instinctively as the sounds of fighting grew louder and louder around us. We moved from one shadowy building to another, our eyes and ears on alert. Screams of anger and pain rang through the night as we crept around one corner. The sight that I saw in that moment before my eyes made my skin prickle and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Merfolk, maids and men alike, were slicing and cutting at one another, blood splattering the white walls and stony streets.
Instinctively, I pressed myself harder against the shadowy building we were creeping along. We slid slowly sideways hoping no one would see us, when my eyes zeroed in on one particular merman. His shirt was torn and tattered, his blades covered completely in blood, and yet his eyes were lit with a fire as though he was enjoying himself. I watched with awe and disgust, as he took down mermaids and mermen over and over again. He went through them with such precision and deadliness, it was unbelievable.
A short gasp of breath beside me, brought me back to my senses. Shaylee was staring in complete fear at the figure before us. Her eyes watched in horror, as he cut down those she knew. I saw her eyes harden and she readied to take a step toward the battle, when I grabbed her w
ounded shoulder.
She winced and glared at me. I shook my head and beckoned her toward the ocean. The waves were calling our names and it was our only means of escape. Reluctantly, she followed me and we rushed through the darkness and into the embrace of the surging foam.
The swim to the island was all a blur. No one stopped us as we made our way through the shimmering darkness and the further we got from Lathmor the slower Shaylee moved. As the ocean floor began to rise, I had to help her as we were swept up in the churning waves and thrown upon the sandy shores. My legs reappeared and having put on the black soldier’s garb again, I helped Shaylee to her feet, trying to ignore the red stained sand.
We walked together, my arm looped around her waist as she tried to follow my lead toward the cabin. The whole way through the cool grass, I tried to keep my mind off of what I had seen. Everything in me wanted to revel in seeing the island again, but the images kept flashing through my mind.
The memory of the creature Morven had created. It was the warrior, covered in blood, his eyes gleaming, and his blades slicing through flesh, without regard for the screaming or the dead lying at his feet.
It was the monster.
It was Zale.
20. Conviction
“How did this happen?” It was the third time Shaylee had muttered the question to herself in the past half hour.
I didn’t say anything, hoping she wouldn’t want a response. I gazed at her, wondering if her arm was hurting her more than she let on. It was making a bloodied mark on the bandage again.
We were on the island, safely inside Patrick’s house. It was quiet here, so quiet, every little sound made us jump and I couldn’t abandon my fear that someone could have followed us here. And I knew just which someone I was thinking of.
We were sitting on the familiar wooden bench, facing the empty fireplace. Shaylee’s hands were knotted in her lap, but every time she flexed her arm she would wince. With every minute, we grew more anxious, wondering what was happening to the others.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” I asked timidly, fairly certain of what the answer would be.
Shaylee sighed heavily; I had never seen her so worked up. “No, I’m fine. I just can’t figure out how we could have missed this plot. It was must have been obvious, if even you heard about it.” Her hand waved out toward me, motioning her frustration.
I sat silently, not wanting to give away my source of knowledge. She stayed still for some time and began to look more like herself. I remembered, once, Tunder had told me she was the Lathmorian strategist. Recalling that fact, I realized how frustrating this really must be for her.
“You don’t think there could be traitors in Lathmor do you?” Her face was calm yet stern with concentration.
“I guess it’s possible,” I shrugged. “But don’t you think this attack was just random? An attack to kidnap you?”
It was Shaylee’s turn to shrug, and she winced “I just don’t know anymore.” She paused for a moment, “How did you find out?”
“I was coming back anyway,” I lied. “And when I saw the dead guard, I realized what was going on. I saw the Hyven soldiers waiting there at the edge of the forest and took off to warn you.” It was partly the truth.
“But how did you know they were coming for me?”
“I overheard them,” I said quickly. My mind was sharp tonight and I hoped my face didn’t betray me. Shaylee sighed and looked out the window.
“Would you like to lie down?” I asked, remembering how I had found her earlier.
“Sure,” she said and winced again. I stood up and helped her to lie down gently and watched her face for any signs of pain. My eyes told me what I knew; her arm was bothering her more than she let on.
“How about we put you in bed,” I asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. She was too tired to argue and forced herself up, to follow me upstairs. I tried to ignore the familiar smell of wood shavings, and the memories it brought to mind.
“Not here,” she said, leaning against me. Her eyes roved over the bed as though it were a coffin.
“He would want you to,” I said and helped her crawl under the covers.
The scent, his scent lingered on everything and I could see him more clearly than ever before. The room spoke his name as though he was standing in the room with us. A yearning in my heart grew and I turned away from Shaylee.
“Get some rest,” I said, but she was already asleep.
Making my way downstairs, I tried not to think about where I was, but the memories kept coming like waves on the seashore that washed over me. There was a time I had said I would never return here, and now I knew why. The overwhelming sense of loss was inescapable. Wherever I went, I could deny what had happened, but not here. Not in the place where the walls and furniture had been built by his hands and everything had his own personal touch. It was here I had to face his memory, face the fact he was gone.
The unbidden image of Zale entered my mind; the monster’s blades flashing through the night and the blood splattering his face. Like a tight corset around my chest, the memory of what that warrior used to be constricted my lungs and I had to gasp for breath. I rushed to the front door, letting the tears stream down my face. I was stuck, lost in a space between wanting to throw the pain aside and embracing it completely.
There was one place I could go that was his place, his and mine alone. Others had come and gone from the cabin. But the cave was solely his, until the day he had shown it to me. With a thundering heart, I wondered if I dared to go there. A surging need rose within my chest, forcing me forward into the dark night. I needed to be in that place, where he first told me what I meant to him.
The walk to the cave was cool and pleasant with the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Grass crunched softly beneath my toes and I reveled in the feeling, not wanting to experience what was inside the cave. Before I even stepped into the shadows of the open rock, I could feel the crisp damp draft swirling toward me as though beckoning me to step into its cool embrace. Goosebumps rose on my flesh, and already the memories began to roll over me; more forceful than I had expected.
I followed the wall with outstretched fingertips, waiting for the end of the wall on my left that would signify the entrance to his room. The darkness was overpowering, and I was thankful for the matches I knew would be in the room up ahead. My fingers met air, and I walked blindly into the open space, struggling to find the torch that had the matches strapped to it. After a few strikes, the fire caught and latched onto the torch in my hand.
The tears were already falling freely when I turned to take in the round jagged walls, the unlit torches, and gritty dirt floor. The place seemed empty, as though something that had made this room come to life had been removed. It was depressing and I wanted to fix it. I thought it might be the lack of torchlight from the flickering orange flames.
I dashed around the room lighting all the torches, illuminating the scratch marked walls, where at one time he had marked each passing day. Quickly, I turned around in circles to see if it made a difference. But it didn’t help, and I knew why. Patrick was the one who had lit this place. It had been his manner, his smile, and his light cheerful eyes. He had been the magic in this room and now, now, he was gone.
A sob filled my throat and I choked it out. I let the emotions that had been building ever since stepping on the island break free. I poured them out of my chest, the coughs breaking through my lips and echoing in the room. Stumbling over to the wall, I placed my hand over the marks, somehow hoping he would come back to me if I touched them. Nothing happened and the tears spilled over, my heart shattering more than I had thought possible.
Why did you leave me here? My heart cried out with no answer and the salty drops kept coming. My slow mind was surprised how it hurt and how much I still loved him. I thought I had accepted the truth, that there had no longer been a hope of having him again, but I was wrong. Part of me had still been holding onto him, and somew
here in my heart, I knew I would always hold onto him.
“So this is where you choose to hide?”
I whipped around, my hair settling around my shoulders slowly. The tears still rolled down my cheeks, but stopped forming at the sight before me. All sadness swept from my body, replaced by a sudden terrifying fear.
Zale stood before me, with his large body blocking the opening of the room. His chest was bare, slowly oozing fresh blood from various wounds that had cleared in the ocean. Gashes slit up and down his arms in crisscross patterns and I wondered about his pain, but upon meeting his gaze, I knew he felt nothing.
His face flickered in the firelight from the torches, and he looked at me with a vengeance that was more terrible than anything I had seen. His gaze was unrelenting as he took in my fear, and one side of his mouth curled into a sneer.
“You surprised me,” he gave a short laugh. “I thought my threat to you would have been enough. But I was wrong.” Instinctively, I retreated and my back pressed into the rock wall behind me.
I didn’t know what to say or do. I had no hope of fighting him off, and no one would be able to hear me if I screamed. I was at his mercy, and I knew he didn’t give mercy to those who betrayed him.
He took a step forward and I hated the fact that I flinched backward. Another soft chuckle escaped his lips and he continued to walk, the blood slowly slipping down his muscles.
I tore my gaze from his as he came closer to me, not wanting to see the anger in his eyes anymore. A strong hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder pressing me further into the wall. I bit back a cry of pain when a jutting point scratched my back.
His other hand reached toward my arm and pulled my dagger from its sheath. My heart started pounding harder than it ever had before. His grip tightened on my shoulder and the cold blade pushed against my chin raising it up high. I could no longer look at the dirt floor; all I could see was his bloodied chest and solid throat.
“Any last words before I kill you?” The cold metal pressed against my skin, but this time it was the sharp end of the blade that pressed against my throat. I felt a little prick against my skin and inhaled sharply. A warm trickle of blood ran over the blade and down my neck. I tried to summon some courage, but it wouldn’t come. All I could think of was Patrick, and my heart cried out to him, I love you.
Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2) Page 21