by Sela Croft
I’d faced many things since I’d arrived in the kingdom, but none worse than the king who sliced me up for pleasure. That type of evil had been kept from me. I supposed that I’d heard or read about such things, but I hadn’t been faced with the horror.
Alban was living, breathing evil. He sought to give pain and lobbied for death. The torture he meted out was his greatest capability, because he had no love or kindness inside. I’d shuddered at being dragged into a cell, and at the torture that followed.
Yet the worst of it had only just dawned on me. I was dealing with a creature from the depths of depravity. I had to fend off a madman who hadn’t a shred of mercy. For so long, I’d taken pride in seeing the best in others.
But I hadn’t been faced with the worst. I’d had the luxury of ignoring how bad it could get. For surely, anyone had a spark of kindness that could be ignited within their soul. Enlightenment about what I was confronting rendered me near hopelessness.
I fought the fatalistic view that threatened to suck away all my urge to survive. It took great effort to brush aside thoughts of giving in. The evil was too great, too daunting. Terror filled me, and I wondered what it would take to conquer Alban—if that was remotely possible.
I lost my train of thought, as Alban resumed his torture. The pain was beyond anything I could have imagined. It seemed that he had unleashed his rage upon me, as if I was the source of all his ills. In the dim recesses of my mind, I tried to understand the king.
He’d claimed that the prophecy wasn’t real, that it was a tale told merely to steal his son. Even in my haze of pain, I wondered at that. If the king didn’t believe in the prophecy, then why did I matter? Why did he assume that ripping Draven and I apart would alter destiny?
I must have passed out, because I couldn’t recall the king leaving. The guards stood by the door, but the acute pain had abated a little. I was grateful for my vampire nature, because the wounds had begun to heal. That was fortunate, as I didn’t know how soon the king would be back to resume his task.
The cell was musty and cold. Yet the freezing temperature was the least of my concerns now. I was chained to the wooden platform, unable to move my arms. I hadn’t attempted sorcery while immobile, so wasn’t sure what I was capable of.
The trauma had left me in a weakened state, and any abilities I possessed seemed submerged. In this brief interim, I had to come up with something. It would have been easy to collapse and pray for recovery.
But Alban might return at any second. I was breathing, and my mind worked. The sting of his weapons was subsiding. Yet it was all so overwhelming. I wasn’t sure I was able to survive torture and imprisonment. Still, there was no alternative.
I thought of Draven and how much I loved him. The image of being in his arms gave me renewed strength. No matter the curse that had descended upon me, I had to make sure that I reunited with him. Repeatedly, we’d been separated. But I’d managed to overcome any obstacle to return to him.
I had no clue how to get past the guards, or how to avoid Alban. But I knew one thing: there had to be a way. Whatever weakness threatened to make me a victim could not be tolerated. I had to find inner power beyond any I’d wielded before.
CHAPTER 71 – DRAVEN
As soon as the battle had ended, Silvain had departed with his army. I marveled at the powers he possessed. What he’d exhibited rivaled any feat that Alban could achieve. It was promising that he’d allied with us, even if temporarily.
There were no royals in sight, as far as I could see. They’d disappeared over the hills, likely halfway back to the mountain palace. The dark leader had appeared with his fighters just in time. And he’d turned the tide.
The battlefield was a bloody mess. My men scoured the field to be sure that no royal was left alive. Then they saw to our injured. Our casualties could have been worse, and would have been, if Silvain hadn’t arrived. I’d only recently learned that he was my brother.
We might have a similar heritage—and the unfortunate circumstance of having the king as a father—but that didn’t mean there was brotherly love between us. I had no expectation that there would be. We’d been enemies for too long.
Yet something had prompted Silvain to have a change of heart. He could have allowed the royals to wipe us out, but he hadn’t. The sight of him terrorizing the king’s army was one I wouldn’t soon forget.
Quin walked over, looking somber. “We lost too many men. I suppose I should be thankful that it wasn’t worse.”
“That is true,” I said. “I’m not sure if we would have been the victor without help.”
“It’s not every day that an enemy has a change of heart.”
“No, and it’s not every day that I find out the enemy is my brother,” I said.
“I still find that hard to fathom,” Quin said, then turned to see Jon approaching.
“How does it look out there?” I said to Jon.
“We’ve got it under control.” Jon wiped the front of his armor, smearing the blood. “One hell of a battle.”
“The royals will have something to talk about when they return,” Quin said.
“I have my doubts that they will relay what happened,” I said. “Retreating is a crime in the Royal Army. Yet I don’t see how they will explain their return any other way.”
“We need an army of demons,” Jon said. “Then the royals will huddle behind the palace walls and leave us alone.”
I laughed. “True enough, but I don’t see that happening.”
It was disheartening to look out at the battlefield and witness the number of men we’d lost. I took solace in the fact that the Guardians were intact, able to fight another day. Yet I’d tired of fighting. I’d lost too many and was anxious to see an end to the war.
It seemed that any step forward was met with a step back. I needed to regroup and meet with my generals. I didn’t plan to stay within the castle walls, waiting for Alban’s army to make their next move. It was time to attack, and to do so in a big way.
At the castle, my soldiers went to get refreshed. It wasn’t known how soon we’d leave to fight again. I was tired too, more emotionally than physically. I was a warrior at heart, but so much death had worn me down. I cared for my men, my people, and my kingdom.
I wished for my sister to have the life she deserved, not having to battle at every turn. And I craved a life with Mirela, one that would bring us together, where we could live in peace. The momentary setback didn’t linger. The sag in morale was replaced by a surge in motivation.
There had been enough killing. There had to be an end to it. Alban’s death march had to cease for good. It was vital that I garner my troops and seize victory. It was fortuitous that Silvain had come to the rescue, but I didn’t expect that to repeat.
My army was strong. Even with all the soldiers we’d lost, I was certain that we’d come back with force. And this time, we’d be better prepared. The royals had attempted to mow us down, but that had given away their tactic. The plan to defeat the king’s army and unseat him would include an effective method of dealing with the monsters.
It came down to numbers. It had taken three of my soldiers to overcome and decapitate one royal. I’d plan for four to one, just to hedge my bets. The royals couldn’t think on their feet, so were unable to adapt. They were automated killers, but their lack of independent thought would be their undoing.
The thought of overpowering them put a bounce in my step. It was going to happen. My Guardians would defeat the Royal Army. And with Silvain’s Dark Fighters no longer against us, the upheaval of the kingdom would be resolved at last.
I went to the barracks with my comrades, where I left them while I went to meet with Clay. “I’ll be with you shortly. I need to brief the general.”
But I didn’t go directly to the command center. I’d have an opportunity to coordinate with Clay and my other generals. First, I had another matter to attend to. I’d left Mirela behind to ensure her safety. I hated being away but couldn’t
risk taking her into battle.
The few times I’d allowed her to accompany me, some disaster had befallen us. I’d left her behind the fortified walls, so I could focus on battle without concern for her. Now, I wished to see her, above all else. It would be balm to my soul to hold her in my arms.
I stepped inside the castle to find it unusually quiet. Quickly, I went to the rooms where I was most likely to find Mirela, but they were empty. I decided to look for Calina, as they were probably together. The library was empty, as well as the main room. I checked with the guard at the stairs, but they hadn’t gone to the basement for feeding.
I missed Mirela yet wasn’t alarmed. Since I’d left her behind with my sister, I was certain she was fine. Whatever they were doing had them well occupied. I inquired about Mirela from a few servants, but only got head shakes. No one had seen her recently.
“What about Calina?” I said. “Where is she?”
The servant waved toward the tower. Of course, my sister often went up there to think; sometimes she had visions while looking out. My pulse sped with anticipation. Calina would know where Mirela was, or they might be together.
I levitated to the tower, but when I saw the expression on Calina’s face, my heart sank. “I’ve returned and have victory to report.”
Calina looked at me.
“Are you not happy?” I said. “And where is Mirela? I want to tell her.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Calina said. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
Panic gripped me. “How can that be? She’s inside the city walls. She must be somewhere.”
Calina shook her head. “I think not. I know Mirela, and she wouldn’t intentionally make us worry.”
“What are you saying?”
“Something awful must have happened to her,” Calina said. “That’s the only explanation.”
Any joy I’d felt over the recent victory in battle dissipated. Mirela was gone, but I didn’t see how that could be. “Did the gate guards see anything?”
“I asked, but each claimed that Mirela had not gone out the gate,” Calina said. “But if she didn’t, how can she be missing?”
It didn’t make sense—unless…
“The passage,” I said. “Could she have gone out that way?”
“But why?” Calina said. “She would have been aware that it’s unsafe.”
I raced toward the entrance to the escape tunnel, with Calina right behind me. I rushed down the stairs, wishing I’d had the good sense to close up the exit long ago. It wasn’t used, so had been forgotten about. Yet it was still a way out.
I shoved the wooden door open and stepped out. Calina stepped past me, looking at the ground—then she gasped. “Look…footprints.”
I stooped down for a closer look. The prints were fresh in the soft dirt and were the size of Mirela’s foot. “It has to be…”
“Why would she leave?” Calina said. “And she didn’t tell me. I don’t understand.”
My gut wrenched. “I think I do. It was a trick. That’s the only explanation.”
“The king?”
“Who else could it be?” I said. “I was about to tell you that Silvain fought with us, on our side.”
Calina’s eyes widened. “It couldn’t be him, then. That only leaves the king, who is the most likely anyway.”
I closed my eyes then pinched the bridge of my nose. “This is very bad news.”
Calina touched my arm. “If Alban has her, there’s no time to lose.”
“The army is already preparing to launch an attack,” I said, racing for the stairs. “It will be sooner than they planned. We’ll leave immediately for the mountains.”
CHAPTER 72 – MIRELA
The relentless torture had worn me down. Intermittently, the king left me alone. My body was capable of recovery, yet he didn’t allow enough rest. Each time he returned too soon; I’d healed but not completely.
My condition had gradually worsened, and I decided it was slow agony that Alban strove for. The frigid room had become a lesser annoyance compared to my injuries. My body was disfigured from the torture, with cuts and welts covering my skin.
Alban’s propensity to deliver pain hadn’t abated. Each session, he embarked upon his task with as much verve as previously. He hadn’t seemed to slow at all, but I had. Some of the periods, I’d been unconscious, dreaming of Draven and imagining I was in his castle.
Yet I’d awaken only to find that my circumstances hadn’t changed. I was still in the dilapidated space with monsters staring at me. With each torture session, I grew weaker. Often, I’d barely opened my eyes before the king reappeared.
I made an effort to move my limbs, not wanting to freeze up. The king wasn’t in the room, but the guards still watched closely. When I was awake, my mind functioned. The trauma had physically weakened me, but not mentally.
I took these brief moments alone to think. If I had any chance of avoiding death, I’d need to conquer my oppressor while I retained my abilities. The prolonged incarceration had sapped my strength. If only I had Draven’s capacity to endure months without blood, but I didn’t.
My feeding requirements as a young vampire exceeded those of the ancient ones. If I didn’t feed regularly, I’d starve. Since I’d been in my supernatural state, I hadn’t needed to press the issue. Draven had ensured that sustenance was readily available.
A few times, I’d waited too long to drink, so I was familiar with the consequences. But I hadn’t been forced to starve for prolonged periods. I wasn’t certain what the progression of my hunger would bring with it. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to function.
That reality urged me to act. If the torture didn’t incapacitate me, the starvation would. Then Alban’s final act would be to kill me. That was all very bleak and seemed so senseless after all I’d been through. Like my life flashing before my eyes, I saw images of my past.
From the beginning, I’d struggled to get to Draven then vowed to stay by his side. There was no possibility that I’d give up, as long as I had a chance. I strained against the chains that bound me, but they were secure.
Even if I could wave my arms to control the weather, creating a blizzard would do little to help me. The palace was on a mountain of ice, so more snow wouldn’t alter it much. All that would do is make my environment more untenable. And my rescue—if there was any hope of one—more difficult.
I was desperate to discover a solution before my captor returned. Alban was merciless, so I didn’t know if I’d have another opportunity to think my way out of this mess. Then I became aware of thoughts that weren’t mine.
In my semiconscious state, I’d been only vaguely aware of the servants who had entered the cell to clean me up. The staff was composed of humans, but they approached stealthily and handled my injuries gently. I’d hardly noticed their ministrations, which had largely occurred while I’d been out cold.
Alban must have ordered his servants to maintain a standard of conditions in the cell. It certainly wasn’t for my benefit, but I was sure that he wished to see his victim. If I was hidden under a mass of blood, he couldn’t have nearly as much fun.
A gentle touch and a warm rag soothed the cuts on my legs. My craving for blood was nearly overwhelming, but I managed to suppress the urge. Two human females were tending to my injuries. I didn’t dare speak to them, as I didn’t want the guards to hear. And they were so timid that I thought I’d frighten them.
A ray of hope sparked inside me. Until then, I’d been alone with no one to connect with but the king and his monstrosities. The human touch revived me, ever so little. And I was reminded that I could read their minds. But the king could not.
That was an advantage, and something I could accomplish without moving. It offered possibilities. I’d just have to figure out how to use that against the king. There was no chance the humans would revolt, as they were obviously too terrified.
The human kindness that the servants exhibited was a breath of fresh air. The entire
ty of the kingdom wasn’t evil and bent on death. Some were victims, just as I was. Gentleness and caring existed, traits that the king lacked entirely.
Inspired, I reached out to contact others. The guards were mentally dense, so wouldn’t have a clue that I was doing anything. First, I entered the minds of those who aided me. I began to connect and to discover more about my environment.
From reading their thoughts, I had a better understanding of what went on inside the palace. And I gained a sense of their emotions, worries, and the sad state of their lives. I began to have an inkling of how I might survive but hadn’t fully formed a plan.
I extended my reach to see if I could contact other humans in the royal palace. I tried to tell how many there were, and there seemed like a lot. Based on the various thoughts I picked up, the staff was sizeable. For a moment, I forgot my travail, and my heart saddened for those forced to work for the king.
My mind was filled with thoughts of those who were doomed, and of the emotions they endured. It all seemed so futile. The life of any human in bondage at the palace was utterly bleak. I determined through telepathy that anyone unfortunate enough to be in the king’s employ didn’t live long.
My thoughts were interrupted when Alban entered, and the humans vanished. I looked into his beady red eyes, feeling only animosity. I found no redeeming virtues in the king, only reasons to despise him.
“You grow weak,” Alban said. “I sent servants to assist you, because I’m not done with you yet. I won’t allow you to fade away, not while I’m deriving such enjoyment from your suffering.”
“You’re a disgrace to your title as king and your vampire race,” I said, angered by his taunting. “I might give in and die out of spite for you.”
“Don’t you dare.” Alban loomed over me, his latest weapon of torture in hand. He seemed to have an endless supply of implements, each one delivering its own special agony.
