The Flames: Book 2 of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  There was something very wrong about this island. Neil could feel it in the air. The sand beneath him turned to a mixture of soil and soot as he walked. Roughly a hundred feet up the beach was a giant stone house overgrown with vines and coated in the soot that covered the ground. If it were cleaner and larger it would have looked similar to the Taurlum mansion. Neil jogged to the front door and was nearly floored by the smell of what was undoubtedly inside. Neil pushed open the half-unhinged door and braced himself for the worst. He found it.

  The entry hall was littered with skeletons that looked to have been impaled by silverware. Some were stabbed through and pinned to the walls and others were lying in heaps around the room. One was even attached to the ceiling by a series of forks. The floor was decorated with dried blood. The next thing that Neil noticed was the carvings that adorned the walls. These walls were stone. It would have taken an immense amount of force to write on them, and yet here they were. Neil approached one and rubbed his elbow over it to clear the dust. I AM NO ONE’S SLAVE was the inscription. Neil scratched his head. That was odd. He found another inscription and cleared the dust off once again. I AM NO ONE’S SLAVE.

  Before Neil could clear off another he heard a voice behind him. “Was he your father?”

  Neil turned with a start and his hands ignited by instinct. The old man didn’t look phased. “Was who my father?” Neil asked breathlessly.

  “Barrick,” the old man whispered frightfully. “You look just like him…”

  Neil stared at him questioningly. The man clearly wasn’t a threat. It looked like his skin was made from wet paper merely wrapped around bones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neil said as he extinguished his hands. “I don’t know anyone named Barrick. Someone told me there could be answers here.”

  The old man sighed. “Well you’d have to get them from me. I’m the only one left on this island.”

  “What is this place?” Neil asked.

  The old man hobbled by Neil and through the entry hall. Neil followed him into what looked to be the kitchen. They passed by four more bodies on the way. The old man pointed to a window on the opposite wall. Neil approached and peered out. “It was a mine?” Neil asked.

  “Yes,” the old man said. “Silver.”

  Neil turned back around. “I still don’t understand.”

  “Some unequaled crimes against humanity were performed here.” The man cleared his throat. “My son. Such a sweet boy. Broken. Taken from us.”

  “What are you talking about?” Neil asked.

  The old man gestured around him. “Read the walls around you. He wrote them hundreds of times.”

  Neil looked around to notice that this room also had engravings on the walls and ceilings. “I am no one’s slave,” Neil recited. “Do they all say that?”

  The old man shook his head. “All of them but one. The last one he wrote.”

  “Show me,” Neil said.

  The old man took him into the connecting dining room and pointed to the wall. Surrounded by hundreds of inscriptions that read, I AM NO ONE’S SLAVE was one written larger and inscribed deeper than any others. I AM SAEWULF ANIMA.

  Neil’s heart stopped and he gripped the table to keep from falling down. “This is…”

  The totality of Saewulf’s memory had been eluding Neil, but in an instant it returned. He remembered the glowing eyes, the raspy threats, and the way he’d killed Victoria without hesitation.

  “This is where my sweet boy was turned into a monster,” the man said with his voice full of pity and regret.

  “You’re Saewulf’s…”

  “I was his father,” the man said. “You sound like you knew him.”

  Neil didn’t respond. He stopped himself from igniting a fireball in his hand. This was the man that had spawned the Emperor’s Psychic. Saewulf had killed his sister, after all. “Saewulf killed everyone here?” Neil asked.

  The old man sat down at what used to be the dinner table. “They killed him first, boy. Killed his soul.” He looked like he was tearing up, but it was possible that he was just an old man with moist eyes. “Years ago, we were living on the other side of this island. There’s a small village there. We were peaceful. Friendly. No one suspected we might be Lightborns. Until one day when someone lost control of a cart and it rolled toward a young child. Saewulf stopped it with his mind. He was praised as a hero by all. Except for John Dalton, who owned the mine. He saw this pure boy with powers as an opportunity. This is where his opportunity brought him, ” the old man said. He pointed to a body in the corner that was adorned with silks and precious looking jewelry.

  “So Saewulf was forced to mine?”

  “Yes,” the old man said. “They slaughtered his mother and kidnapped his sister. They’d send him out to toil in the mines and once he was done, they’d let him in the house to sleep. I couldn’t do anything. His mother was the Lightborn and she was dead. I had no powers to use to help him. Dalton had an army.”

  “What was to stop Saewulf from killing them all the moment he walked in?” Neil asked.

  “Barrick Vapros.”

  Neil cringed at the mention of his own family name. “Who was Barrick Vapros?”

  “A Lightborn from the Industrial City,” the old man said. “He was exiled and by chance ended up on this island. He had an unusual ability to block other people’s powers. That is, when he was around Saewulf, the boy was unable to use his gifts. It’s also how they managed to capture him and kill his mother. So Barrick was paid a fortune to stay with the boy at all times whenever he was inside. Barrick was a cruel individual. He beat the boy and his sister constantly in hopes that it would motivate Saewolf to work harder. After years of this pain and abuse, Barrick took it too far. Whether they’d forgotten to feed her or they’d been too ruthless with her, I’m not sure, but Saewulf’s sister, my daughter, was dead. They tried to keep it from Saewolf, but the boy was smart enough to realize what had happened. He murdered Barrick in his sleep with a shard of silver. Then he pulled the silverware from the cupboards and well…” he gestured around him.

  Neil rubbed his forehead and tried to breathe. “And then?”

  “We don’t know. Everyone assumed that he walked out into the surf and drowned. That was a common rumor.”

  Neil shook his head. “He didn’t. He died inside the walls.”

  The old man sighed. “I hope he rests in peace.”

  Neil didn’t want to share any of the details about Saewulf’s life once he was on the mainland.

  “How did you know what happened after he was kidnapped?” Neil asked.

  “A few young men escaped Saewulf’s onslaught and came to the village to warn us. Most climbed into rowboats in fear that he would come for us next. I stayed, hoping he never would.”

  “And he didn’t?”

  “No,” the old man said. “Sometimes I wished he would. We knew what John Dalton was doing with my boy. But he was too powerful for me to do anything about it. Some people on this island simply stated that it wasn’t their business. Can you fathom that? That it wasn’t their business? Imagine the sins committed because they couldn’t be bothered to step out of their way.” He held his face in his hands. “There’s so much blood on their hands. My hands.”

  The old man sobbed while Neil was stared at the walls. It made sense now. Saewulf’s hatred for Lightborns and his desire to destroy the families was a result of his enslavement and his encounter with Barrick Vapros. Saewulf had been a crucial part of planning the Emperor’s attack on the Lightborns. He realized that Bianca had been right when she’d said it wasn’t about power, it was about extinction. Saewulf had been trying to rid the world of people like Barrick Vapros. He’d been trying to make sure no one would suffer what he’d suffered ever again.

  Neil stared at the final inscription on the wall. I AM SAEWULF ANIMA. Neil shook his head. “So that makes six families in all.” He groaned. Things were complicated enough when there were just three of them.

&nbs
p; “I only ever knew one family. My family,” the old man said.

  Neil placed his hand against the inscription and shuddered. It felt as if all his bones had scraped each other at once. “The Anima family has the power of what?”

  “Power of the mind” the old man whispered from behind his hands. “It always manifests in a different way. Saewulf used his to move things.”

  Neil was afraid of the answer to his next question. “Are there any others left?”

  “If my boy is dead, then that really might be the last of them. We’ve been hunted and used for our powers time and time again.”

  Neil turned to the entrance and walked toward it.

  “I really do hope he rests in peace,” the old man said to himself. “He is owed some peace.”

  Neil had something else to say, but didn’t. He left. He kept his eyes locked forward when he left. He didn’t want to see the carnage. He pushed off of the shore and continued rowing toward the mainland. He’d rather drown than stay on that island. Saewulf’s father’s words rang through his head. “I hope he rests in peace.”

  Neil wanted that to be true, he really did. But he was filled with doubt. After all, evil never rests.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  ABINGTON

  DARIUS TAURLUM

  It was amazing that Darius was able to fit Nikolai through the doors of the library, and even more amazing that the creature didn’t awaken the entire village with its roaring. Darius’s concerns grew less pertinent as they entered the woods outside of Abington. Darius was still swaying from the drinks he’d had earlier, but his powers held strong. He held Nikolai at the joints again with his advanced ability, and after an hour or so the creature stopped struggling. He carried him long into the night until he found a small lake surrounded by a ridge. He dropped his Uncle and Nikolai settled on the mossy forest floor.

  Darius focused with all his might and began peeling off the armor piece by piece. Nikolai screamed in the beginning, but as time went on he began to sigh in relief with each removed piece. Eventually he was a man again, dressed in nothing but a thin undershirt and pantaloons. Nikolai collapsed in what looked like pure relief, alone in his newfound freedom from his scales and from the armor that had restricted him. Darius knew he no longer had control of the beast, but he had a feeling his temperament had changed. His uncle rolled on the ground as if to scratch an itch and Darius approached. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  Nikolai sat up, confused and then bounded into the water. Everywhere he went in the clean lake, dark pools of dirt surrounded him. Darius wondered how long it had been since his uncle’s last bath. He watched Nikolai, living in bliss for almost an hour. He’d never be the same, and he’d probably never be human again, but he would be happy out here away from the cages and human sacrifices. When Darius finally left, Nikolai slept on the soft grass.

  Darius walked through the forest and met Bianca closer to Abington in a clearing. She looked as terrible as he felt. She had two shovels with her and a small coffin. Darius proved to be far more effective at digging than she was, and before long they had an adequate resting place for Anastasia. They set her down lightly in the grave and covered it with dirt. All of it was done without a word. Darius was thankful for it. What could he possibly offer Bianca at a time like this?

  He found a sizeable flat stone to use for the epitaph and brought it back to Bianca, who was kneeling at the grave. “Will this work?” he asked.

  “What do you want to say?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought I’d leave that up to you. She was your sister.”

  “I wish I had something,” Bianca said almost in a whisper. “I only just reconnected with her. I wish I had gotten to know her like you did.”

  Darius blinked at her. Like he did?

  “You two spent a lot of time together. And there was something in her eyes, whenever she talked about you. I don’t know how much of what she said was real, but the way she felt about you… that wasn’t an act.”

  Darius turned away from her to get another rock to make the inscription, but also because he didn’t want her to see the pain in his eyes. He used his Taurlum strength to carve her name into the headstone. He sat with Bianca until he knew what he wanted to write. Anastasia Blackmore. Her last act was a selfless one. He turned the stone over and showed it to Bianca. She squinted to read it, then looked at him when she did. “I think she would have liked it.”

  He placed it at the head of her grave and sat next to Bianca. He’d never connected with Bianca as well as the others did, but he felt a connection to her now, through Anastasia. “I guess it must say something about us as people…” Bianca said.

  “What?”

  “Every time we lose someone it still hits us so hard. We’ve seen so much death, and it never gets any easier.”

  “I don’t think us being soft changes anything,” Darius said.

  She shook her head. “When you go to war, you see death. You see it everywhere.” And some people get used to it, eventually. The fact that we haven’t… I don’t know. Maybe we really are the good guys.”

  Darius stared at Anastasia’s grave and then into the distance to where he’d left Nikolai. “You saw what the Doctor did to Rhys, and to Anastasia. He didn’t value life like we do. Any doubts that I had about this cause are gone. The Empire isn’t justified. It’s evil.”

  Bianca stood and tightened her belt. “Thank you, Darius. For all of this.” She indicated the grave. “Thank you for being there for her. I need to head to Misty Hollow to meet Neil before it’s too late.”

  Darius stood and shook her hand. His dwarfed hers, but she still had a firm grip. “Good luck,” he said. “Tell Neil his brother needs him. We all do.”

  Bianca shifted a lock of ashen hair away from her face. “Keep Rhys safe.”

  She turned and headed over a hill, leaving him alone with the grave. He bowed to it and then headed back to Abington.

  When Darius reentered his room at the inn Rhys was awake and sitting against the wall. He looked traumatized. His short hair was standing on end, and his right eye twitched every couple seconds. Darius tossed him Anastasia’s notebook and it seemed to pull him out of his trance. “What’s this?” Rhys asked.

  “Anastasia made me a book to help me read.”

  Rhys smiled faintly and flipped through the pages. “She was smart. I doubt she knew it, but she was discovering something called phonetics. It’s a way of classifying how letters can sound.”

  Darius thought he saw a bit of Rhys’s old excitement in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by a look of fear and shock. “Hey,” Darius said uneasily. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Rhys blinked a few times and laughed. It was fake and they both knew it. “Yes.” Rhys said. “It’s just…” He was quivering. “It’s going to be a while before anything feels like it used to. I lost a foot, Darius. I don’t even remember most of the torture. He kept me awake and without water for days at a time.”

  Darius tried not to cringe. He was more than ready to never hear about the Imperial Doctor ever again. “Well, now you’ve got all the water you could ever want.” Rhys stared at the floor. “And we’ll teach you to walk again!” Darius said. “There were guys in town that had missing feet. There are ways to give you a fake one. Maybe out of metal.”

  Rhys smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be okay. I’m not easily broken. I just need time.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the pillow. “It’ll be a while before I stop hearing his voice in my head,” he said in a sad tone.

  Suddenly Rhys bolted upright and stared at Darius in horror. “Why would you say that?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say anything!” Darius said uneasily.

  “Oh,” Rhys said. “That’s odd. I thought you said Good luck with that.”

  “I didn’t,” Darius said with his arms outstretched. “I promise.”

  “Okay,” Rhys said as he lay back down on his pillow and sleep overtoo
k him again. “It must be my mind playing tricks on me. It’s just…” Rhys drifted off with his final words before resting. “It even sounded like his voice.”

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  MISTY HOLLOW

  NEIL VAPROS

  Neil trudged into the square of Misty Hollow and peered through the dense fog. Whatever he was searching for was here. He knew it. It had to be. Small lanterns littered the square. Some were stationary and occasionally a citizen of the town would drift by holding one. The light reflected off the fog and created a warm and artificial glow.

  Neil tried his best to feel optimistic, or at least comfortable, but there was something in the air aside from the fog. There was an unseen tension. Neil shook his head to clear it. And then there she was. Directly across the square stood his oldest friend. Through every waking moment she was his rock, even when he failed to be hers. Bianca stood anxiously tapping her belt and glancing around expectantly. Memories flooded his head and threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered years and years of friendship. He remembered their jokes and their younger years. He remembered the fights and kissing her on a mountaintop. He remembered every time he’d ever seen her face and heard her laugh. The final piece of him was back, and it was her.

  He wanted to call out to her. He wanted to scream her name and tear through whoever was in his way of getting to her, but the second his mouth opened, he noticed the fog. Small wisps had stopped their motion. It began pooling against what looked to be an invisible wall of sorts. Its form tightened as it neared some unseen barrier. Neil’s eyes widened. He tried to summon a cry to call out to Bianca, but it died in his throat as he felt an invisible force wrap around his throat. He tried to run, but found his feet cemented to the ground. He desperately tried to move a single muscle. Maybe if he could shake an arm or leg Bianca would notice. She could run.