Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jaye L. Knight

  She would need that comfort. This was only the beginning. There would be more to endure. There would be pain. She didn’t try to fool herself into thinking otherwise. It just didn’t matter now. She had proclaimed her belief in Elôm, and her life was entirely His. The same divine peace that surrounded her in the temple still stirred inside her, carrying her.

  Her eyes caught on someone to her right. Daniel. The prince watched them pass with a frown. Kyrin held his confused gaze for a moment. Oh, why hadn’t she spoken to him when she had the chance? But it was far too late now.

  The prince fell behind them as Aric guided Kyrin through a door that led down a deep, stone staircase. Torches lit the way as they descended. The temperature dropped and the air dampened, raising goose bumps along Kyrin’s arms. A thick, musty odor drifted from down a long hall, and the heaviness of it pressed on her lungs. She hadn’t thought, as she walked the gilded palace halls, what lay beneath it. A shiver prickled up her spine.

  Aric led her on a ways before stopping at a thick door where he pushed her inside a small room. It stood empty save for one burning torch and a solitary chair in the center. Aric ordered her to sit. She did so, looking up at him, and detected some unreadable shadow in his eyes. But he said nothing as he turned his back on her and left the room. The door closed loudly behind him, and the lock clicked.

  Alone in the silence, Kyrin rubbed her chilled arms. She gazed about the room and found only dark stone until she paused on the darker patches on the floor around her feet. She frowned, but her stomach roiled with understanding. Dried blood. Stains spattered the chair too. She jumped up from her seat as her mouth turned to dust. With slow but shuddering breaths, she sank back into the chair.

  “Elôm.” The hollow space swallowed her voice, but she went on, “I need You to continue strengthening me to endure whatever is coming. I’m not strong enough or brave enough on my own.” She worked her throat to loosen the painful tightness. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m afraid, but You gave me courage in the temple. Please, I still need that courage.”

  The seconds drew into long minutes. Everything was still. Kyrin had never experienced such silence before. Even the burning torch barely made a sound. Before long, claustrophobia rose up around her like floodwaters, and she tried to moderate her breathing. She wobbled with lightheadedness and gripped the chair until her fingers hurt. Squeezing her eyes closed, she whispered prayers to fill the quiet.

  “I am a child of Elôm,” she murmured to herself, drawing from all Sam had taught her. “My life is in His hands. I live for Him and Him alone. He controls my future. Nothing happens without His knowledge.”

  The thump of footsteps interrupted her steady flow of words. She raised her head as the lock worked and licked her dried-out lips, but her tongue wasn’t much better. The door swung open, and Daican entered. Though Kyrin’s body reacted with a flush of cold, somehow a quiet assurance maintained control over her mind. Richard and Aric stepped in next, but Aric remained at the door. Kyrin’s gaze shifted from him to the emperor, who peered down at her with his fists on his hips. Even Master Zocar’s most withering stare couldn’t compare to the intimidation behind Daican’s.

  “How long have you believed such lies?”

  Kyrin sat in silence, but inside she begged Elôm for strength not to give up any information. Daican narrowed his eyes and then nodded to Richard. The man stepped forward and dragged Kyrin up off the chair. She tensed in his grip, but didn’t take her gaze from the emperor. What a fool she’d been to think and hope he would prove himself to be more than the man she believed he was at Tarvin Hall. He’d actually had her convinced at times, but Kaden had been right.

  “Who taught you?” Daican demanded.

  Sam’s face flashed in her mind. This answer above all else must be guarded with her life. She clamped her teeth down hard. Grasping her wrist, Richard twisted her arm up behind her back. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she gasped out a small cry.

  “Who taught you about Elôm?” Daican repeated his question calmly, but with a sharp edge to his voice.

  Kyrin just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Elôm help her, she would never give Sam up.

  Richard yanked her arm up farther. Another wave of pain seared through her shoulder muscles as her tendons stretched taut. She ground her teeth together to stifle a groan. Tears stung her eyes.

  “Tell me who taught you.” Daican’s voice rose. “Was it someone at Tarvin Hall? Or someone in the city?”

  Kyrin met each subsequent question without answering. They varied, but always returned to who had taught her of Elôm. With each refusal to speak, Richard twisted her arm up a little higher. Surely, at some point, a joint would pop or a bone would snap. It was only a matter of time. Beads of sweat rolled down her face, mixed in with leaking tears. Dizzy with pain, another whimpered cry broke free. Panting, she looked at Daican’s blurred face through her tears and a surge of defiance built up in her.

  “No,” she declared. “I’ll never tell you anything. No matter what you do, I’ll never speak.”

  After the prolonged silence, the release of such words brought relief, but only for a moment. Sheer agony ripped through her shoulder, and she cried out. Her legs buckled, and she crumpled at Richard’s feet. Slumped over, she cradled her arm. Her shoulder pulsed and burned, the muscles throbbing down to her fingertips. She held her arm close to her middle.

  Footsteps drew close, and Daican’s boots appeared in front of her. She raised her head as he bent closer. In a low, dangerous tone, he said, “Whether you tell me anything or not is of no consequence. Your life is forfeit.”

  Tears bit her eyes, but the small, flickering flame that had kept her fighting all these years still burned, even here in this dungeon. “Then I die knowing I have a better life waiting for me.”

  Daican’s blow landed hard on her right cheek and snapped her head to the side. Her ears rang, and she almost toppled over. By the time her senses cleared, the emperor was at the door. He paused and glanced back at her, true regret in his tone. “It’s a shame, Miss Altair. I liked you.” The regret vanished when he yanked the door open and ordered, “Take her.”

  Two guards strode into the room. Before Kyrin could move, they grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. She moaned a little, but neither man showed concern for her injuries. Out in the hall, they marched her along, deeper into the dungeon. Kyrin couldn’t focus past her shoulder and the pain robbing her of breath. When they did stop, a corridor of cells stretched before them. They shoved her into one. Only then did Kyrin take notice of Aric. He stepped to the door.

  “You will need to give me your dress.”

  Kyrin glanced at her clothing and then back to him. “What?”

  “Your dress, you need to give it to me.”

  Kyrin gripped her vest and inched back in the cell.

  Aric breathed out audibly and spoke in a quiet tone. “Don’t make me have to take it from you.”

  Kyrin looked around, but the dark cell offered no solution or alternative. Moving slowly, she tried not to think, just act. With shaky fingers, she unlaced her vest. Her left arm wasn’t much use, and she had to blink to keep her eyes clear. Carefully, she worked the vest off and handed it to Aric. Looking down at her dress, she hesitated again. How far would they make her go? She shuddered.

  Crying out to Elôm, she loosened the laces as best she could and glanced up. Aric stared at the floor, but the two other guards peered in at her with no attempt to conceal their fiendish satisfaction. She fumbled with the laces. Once she was able, she slipped the dress off and handed it over, too. Wearing only her shift, she felt utterly exposed and wrapped her good arm around herself.

  “The shoes.”

  Kyrin slipped them off and pushed them toward Aric. The cold, damp cell floor leaked up through her thin stockings and chilled her toes.

  Clothing under his arm, Aric stepped out of the cell. The door shrieked shut and locked with a finalizing clank.
With one last look at her through the bars, Aric strode away with the guards. For several long seconds, Kyrin just stood in the dark, her uneven breaths all that broke the stillness. Nothing moved, but the thick air settled cold on her exposed skin and sent a shiver up her arms and across her back. She looked around. The darkness hid even her own hands. Reaching out, she felt her way to the back of the cell and sank to the floor.

  For the first couple of minutes, a cool numbness encased her, her mind sorting through everything she’d just faced, but then the trembling took hold and tears spilled from her eyes. It hardly seemed real, yet as reality fully settled in, small choking sobs tore at her chest.

  “Kaden,” she cried. She would probably never see him again, at least not in Ilyon. Neither him nor her father. If only she could see them, just once, and explain what happened. What would they do when they found out? What would Kaden do? This question ripped through her.

  “Please, Elôm, don’t let him do anything foolish.”

  She wept until her tears dried up and leaned her head back against the wall. So, this was it. Less than three weeks at the palace and she faced execution. Just how would her death come? Would Daican have her killed in secret or publically? Scenes from the ryrik executions flashed before her, and she put her hand to her throat. What a gruesome way to die. She closed her sore eyes.

  “Elôm, if there’s a way out of this, please provide it. But…if not, please help me stand strong…right to the end.”

  Supper would start any minute. Kaden was cutting it close tonight, but he’d made good progress in ensuring their escape route from the city. It was almost time. All they needed was the information about the group Sam had mentioned. Only another day or two. Then they would run and never look back.

  When he reached Tarvin Hall, he hurried up the steps and let himself inside. A few groups of students lingered in the halls. Maybe it wasn’t so late after all. At least he wouldn’t have to sneak down to the kitchen. Like he’d told Kyrin, it was best to lie low these days and avoid unnecessary trouble and attention.

  He passed a couple of his classmates, who just stared at him. Nothing so strange about that. With Kyrin gone, it was starkly evident just how few people even acknowledged his existence. But with every blank stare he passed, a warning tickled the back of his mind. What were they all looking at? Usually they just ignored him. He glanced down at his uniform. Nothing wrong with it. He frowned at them, but by the time he reached the dining room, his stomach clenched, and it had nothing to do with hunger.

  The first person he spotted was Sam. The talcrin’s tense expression clamped a slowly tightening vice around Kaden’s gut. He questioned him with his eyes, but his attention shifted to Master Zocar, who approached. Two very alert-looking guards trailed him. Kaden’s heart punched his ribs.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice not as strong as he intended.

  Master Zocar grimaced. “I regret having to tell you this, Kaden, but…your sister has been arrested.”

  Kaden took a step back as if he’d been struck. Arrested? No, not yet. She couldn’t be. His mind nearly fuzzed out Zocar’s next words.

  “She renounced Aertus and Vilai and tried to attack the emperor.”

  “What?” he gasped. “No…she can’t…she wouldn’t…”

  Kyrin wouldn’t attack anyone. Certainly not the emperor, and not just before their escape.

  “Kaden.” Master Zocar’s voice reached out to him gently and with as much sympathy as he’d ever heard it. “I know this is difficult, but you must be calm about it.”

  Kaden shook his head. Forget calm. He had to get to Kyrin. He had to do something to get her away from the emperor. The man would surely kill her, given the chance. He backed toward the door, but the guards rushed in and grabbed his arms.

  “No!” He jerked against them.

  “This is for your own good,” Zocar told him. “You’re not thinking clearly. You need time to calm down.”

  But Kaden fought to get away, yanking his arms against the guards’ strong grips. Between the two of them, they were able to restrain and drag him out of the dining room. Master Zocar followed along and tried to calm him, but he didn’t hear a word of it through his struggles. They couldn’t do this to him. His sister was a prisoner somewhere, and he should be with her.

  Despite his resistance, they managed to take him to one of the studies. After pushing him farther inside, they closed the doors behind him. Spinning around, he slammed his fists against the doors.

  “Let me out!”

  He hit them again to no avail. Finally, he turned around and ran his hands through his hair. This couldn’t be happening. Everything was nearly ready. Their escape, their new life…He paced the room, and his mind raced. He had to get to Kyrin. But how? Could he even find out where the emperor was holding her?

  Chest heaving, he balled his fists and let out a strangled groan. “What do I do, Elôm? I have to help her.”

  For a very long time, he wrestled with the image of Kyrin as a prisoner and the fire burning inside him to do something about it. Hours passed before the doors unlocked. He jumped up, prepared to do anything to get out, even if he had to face every guard at Tarvin Hall. This time he’d be ready for them.

  The door swung open. Master Zocar entered first, followed by Sam, but Kaden set his eyes on the two guards who stood firmly in the doorway. If only he had a sword from the training building.

  “Kaden,” Zocar drew his attention. “I know how difficult this must be for you, but you’re going to have to accept it.”

  Tensing all over, Kaden’s eyes jumped back to the guards. He would never just accept this. Sam’s voice was the only thing that kept him from acting.

  “Kyrin made her choice, Kaden. Don’t do anything foolish because of it.”

  His gaze swung around to the talcrin. In those gold eyes, he found both a warning and a plea. “Just be calm and get through tonight. Things will get better.”

  Kaden stood, torn. Kyrin needed him. Even if it meant being arrested himself, he had to find her. But what good would it do in the end? They’d both be dead with no one to rescue either of them. At least if he played along, he still had a chance to save her. Yet how could he just leave her, even for one night, at the mercy of the emperor? The heavy weight of the situation pressed down. He hung his head and let his tense arms fall limp. For now, he had no choice.

  Kyrin awoke shivering. Darkness still surrounded her, and the cold stones had drained the heat out of her body. She wrapped her arms around her chest, but her left shoulder was stiff and burned with the slightest movement. Tremors ran through her muscles. Head drooping on her chest, she’d drifted in and out of sleep, though for how long was impossible to guess. The empty squeezing of her stomach suggested hours. She hadn’t eaten much for breakfast or lunch. Certainly a mistake now, looking back. They had probably been the last meals she would ever have. Her stomach pinched more painfully, and she forced that thought away.

  When her teeth began to chatter, she couldn’t stand it anymore. How could they just leave her down here like this? Couldn’t they, at least, have left her properly clothed? None of the warmth of spring penetrated this stone prison. In desperation, she groped about for anything she might use to get warm. Her fingers found only grimy, rough stone, but then, in the opposite corner, they came upon something softer. She felt around the crumpled heap and discovered it was a large piece of cloth, perhaps an old blanket. Grabbing one edge, she lifted it from the floor. The reek of mold overwhelmed her. Gagging, she turned her head away. The damp cloth hung heavy in her hands, most likely covered in mildew and who knew what else.

  Tears poured into her eyes. She was desperate to get warm, but this? The hot teardrops rolled down her cold cheeks. She had to do it. With a grimace, she pulled the cloth over her shoulders and wrapped it around herself. The smell of rot burned her nose, choking her, and the cloth clung to her like a filthy rag, but she forced herself to endure it. At first, it brought no comfort, but s
lowly, she warmed up and the shivering ceased. In time, she drifted back into another uneasy sleep.

  Kyrin rocked slowly and squeezed her eyes shut. The darkness in her head somehow felt better than the smothering darkness of the cell. At least in her head she could lose herself in memories of the past—good memories. Anything to keep the chilling, claustrophobic tide from drowning her. It was as if she were trapped in an empty, black void and cut off from any other living being. She craved contact with her brother, if only for a moment.

  Hunger pains gnawed at her stomach, and her mouth barely produced the moisture to swallow. Lack of nourishment encumbered her limbs. Any attempt at movement grew harder, slower, and her head pounded to match the rhythm of her heart. What if they just left her here to die? To just fade away? She shuddered, and tears leaked out from beneath her eyelids.

  “Elôm.” The weak whisper broke the silence. She couldn’t force any more words through her throat, but they flowed from her mind, desperate and reaching. And the more her cries flowed out, the more comfort flowed in. Sam had once told her Elôm was a shield for His children. She imagined a shield of protection around her in the midst of the darkness. She clung to it, trusting it, refusing to let fear push it away.

  The inability to tell time frayed at her mental grip, but through prayer, she prepared to let it just slip by until it simply ran out for her. After all, Elôm would be waiting for her at the end of it. Maybe one of these times she would fall asleep and it would be done. That didn’t seem so bad. There were plenty of worse ways to die.

  The distant echo of footsteps startled Kyrin. A flickering glow appeared and rolled away the darkness. She squinted as it grew in strength and illuminated the shapes of men. She pulled the tattered old blanket more tightly around herself, not sure whether to feel relief or the desire to be left alone.