Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery

by Ethington, Rebecca

“This was to be a home for one of my posterity, a young lady named Delia and her mate Chandle. They were killed in the massacre. Thom and I stay here because no one except Ilyan and I know of this cave’s existence. Ilyan helped me to build it. It was to be a surprise.” He smiled sadly, and I didn’t know what to say so I turned away from him, trying to keep my own sense of loss at bay.

  “The room we came from is the living quarters, this is the practice hall, and through that door there,” he pointed toward a small opening on the opposite edge of the space, “is the Hall of Sight. It is a sacred room where the Drak can see and record their visions.”

  I looked toward the room, my heart turning into a one man band as I panicked between wanting to go in there, and being terrified of what I would find. I still hadn’t settled with the idea that I was going to be able to see the future.

  Just thinking the phrase sent a knot into my throat.

  “So what are we doing here?” I worded my question carefully, hoping to take his attention off of the Hall of Sight.

  “Did you know, Silnỳ, that only one magic can exist in a soul at one time? A Vilỳ can only ever be a Vilỳ, a Skȓítek a Skȓítek, a Drak a Drak. If the love is strong enough they can mesh in a bonding; it has been done in the past, but I am not sure Ovailia ever loved Sain. That was one of the reasons Sain and Ovailia’s bond never held; their magic could never truly be one. The only form of magic that can intermingle is that of a Chosen, but to have two types of magic in one person prior to a Zȇlství has never happened. It would be too much. The body, the soul, could not contain it. And yet, here you are. You have the magic of a Trpaslík and a Skȓítek, as caused by the bite of a Vilỳ and the magic of the Drak from your father. All that, in one little body.”

  I stepped away from him, instantly feeling awkward. I didn’t like the way he was insinuating that I was some super powerful being.

  “The Silnỳ,” he said as if on cue.

  “Most Powerful.” I translated for him. “Is that what it means? Is that what is in the sight?”

  He nodded, “Part of it. A child with magic beyond comprehension.”

  The rock in my throat was growing larger. I would have to unpack that later.

  “Are you saying I might be like Ilyan, like how he can’t use the whole of his magic on one person?” Dramin’s eyes narrowed at me as he began to step around me like he was surveying me. I held still, even though I wanted to move away from his hawk-like stare.

  “No, not yet,” he said. I could tell it was more to himself than to me, but it still peaked my interest.

  “What do you mean, ‘not yet’?”

  “You are not yet ready to see all that you must see.” He smiled again as he stopped in front of me, his body far too close for comfort.

  “Bull crap. I’m ready. I need to know.” I was firm, he just smiled and pushed the mug back into my hands, the warm Black Water still swirling heavily inside.

  “The Drak drink the Black Water from birth. It is part of our very nature, part of who we are. You have drank the contents of two mugs. It is the start of your new life. You will find in a matter of days that you will no longer desire human food. You will not need to sleep as much. You will only need the Black Water to sustain you.”

  I looked into the mug uneasily; I already wanted to take another drink.

  “Now, let’s conduct a little experiment. I will shoot a target into the air for you. I want you to drink of the Black Water and then fire your magic at the target. Aim to kill.”

  “I’m still waiting for answers.” Although, what he was offering was almost more enticing. My magic was already popping under my skin, eagerly.

  “And you will get them. But first, drink.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as he lifted his hand and fired a dark, heavy shape from his hands across the large space. It appeared more cumbersome than the magic I had learned to control, it almost looked... weak.

  I lifted the mug to my lips and drank greedily, loving the way the liquid filled me up. I lowered the mug and I lifted my hand, surprised by the response my magic had to that simple thought. Without having to focus, a ripple of brilliant violet flew from the palm of my hand faster than I had ever seen. It intercepted Dramin’s dark target with a bang, a purple shower filling the room as my magic destroyed the target.

  I didn’t dare move. Ilyan had been training me in combat for months and I had never been able to obtain that kind of power, even after I had been able to shield myself from the drain caused by the necklace. Ilyan had always said how strong my magic was, but it had never responded. Not like that.

  “Wonderful!” Dramin shouted as he clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Did you know that the Drak carry no defensive magic? So the fact that you can do that, and so well, is amazing.”

  I stared at him.

  “Would you care to try it again?” Dramin waved his hand over my mug, the liquid refilling itself to the brim.

  I looked at the Black Water before emptying the mug with one gulp. Dramin laughed as he sent another target into the dark cavern for me. This time I released the mug into the air where it floated as I sent a strong impulse from both hands. The bright green wave soared through the dark cave in ripples of light, disintegrating the target and leaving a long divot in the rock. I reached out and grabbed the mug from where it still hovered in the air, my hands wrapping around the smooth ceramic as if I was afraid I would drop it.

  “Amazing,” Dramin whispered beside me. I could only nod. Yeah, it was.

  “How is that possible?” I asked, looking at my hand. “I have never been able to... I mean, I…”

  “It appears the Black Water has opened up your true potential, Silnỳ.”

  “And what is that?” I turned to him, hair flying, and stared at him wide eyed. He met my gaze, eyes shining as they searched through me. Again. I shifted my weight.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Then when?”

  “When you have accepted who you truly are.” His answer was simple, yet somehow impossible. I looked at my free hand, my eyes trailing back to the large dent that had rent the smooth surface of the stone.

  “I am a Drak,” I said. I could still feel the addictive way that the Black Water buzzed through my veins.

  “Yes.”

  “But I am also a Chosen.” My fingers grazed over the seldom touched skin of my mark, as if I needed the reminder

  “Yes.”

  “But the two cannot exist together. ‘Different magic cannot exist in one being without a bonding’.”

  Dramin nodded and stepped closer, those eyes sending a shiver up my spine. “It seems, Silnỳ, that in you, all things are possible.”

  Eighty-Nine

  Wyn

  My body was numb. It felt weird without my magic soaring through it. Almost dead. This must be what it felt like to be human.

  Except humans probably weren’t likely to find themselves restrained to a wall in the dungeons below Prague with their hands chained above their heads, the chain extended so their weight was supported by their wrists. That would just be me.

  I stared into the darkness and tried to stand again, but my legs were too weak. Everything was too numb. Even though I could feel the stone against the balls of my feet, I couldn’t move my legs to try to stand against it. So I hung there, staring into the dark, cold space, the air heavy with the smell of wet and mildew.

  To think, just yesterday I had been too scared to come down here.

  Now I was trapped, alone, strung up against the cold stone. I hoped that the mysterious power I shared with the stone of these walls would awaken and ignite, but the rock Edmund had forced down my throat had done its job. I was powerless.

  I stayed like this for hours, with only the darkness and an occasional whimper that echoed off the stone for company. I couldn’t tell if the sound was from a rodent or the battered man that Edmund had been dragging around behind him.

  I don’t know if I had passed out or simply slept, but the clanging of chains woke
me. I jerked awake, only to feel a subtle pressure of fingers against my spine.

  Magic pulsed through me and the numbing that had occupied my body was stripped away, leaving me in agony. My shoulders were on fire, my wrists broken from supporting me for so long. My scream of pain echoed off the dark walls, it hung in the damp air even after a wide fist collided with my face, leaving more pain behind.

  “What?” I taunted, gritting my teeth into the dark. “You think I’m going to cower?”

  Another punch joined the first.

  “I won’t…” I had to pause to spit the blood that filled my mouth. “Cower.”

  Another punch, but this time I said nothing. I just scowled.

  The chains that suspended me clattered again as they were moved higher, extending my body until I was on my tiptoes, my shoulders threatening to snap. I screamed at the movement and the same hand smacked my cheek, the face of the hand’s owner swimming into view.

  “Silence, princess,” my father sneered, his lip curling underneath his large moustache. “There are consequences.”

  He slapped me again. My cheek stung, and my body screamed, but I refused to give him rise. I refused to let him win. I stared into his eyes, the irises as dark as mine, waiting for more. None came, and his smile only increased.

  “Aren't you going to say hello to your father?” he sneered. “I think I have taught you better manners than this.”

  I stared at him in silence, eyes wide as I taunted him, as I dared him. If I was anyone else, I might have given in; but I couldn't, something deep inside wouldn't let me.

  Timothy's eyes narrowed at my defiant gaze, his confidence wavering at my stubbornness. Good. He might kill me, but I was going to put up a fight until the very end.

  “Say, hello,” he sneered again, the stubbornness I had inherited from him forcing him on.

  He shook the chains, fire burning through my arms and shoulders. My taunt was lost as pain settled in my spine. A groan escaped me as I fought back a scream, my jaw clenching painfully as I looked at my father with as much hatred, as much power as I could muster. I found the sleeping magic within me and prodded it, but nothing happened. My now mortal body was useless and strung up before my father for whatever torture he had in mind.

  “Say, hello,” he prompted again, his fists flexing by his sides.

  I stared at him, my jaw clenched, ready for the impact to come… when he smiled.

  “Don’t you want to see your mate, princess?” he snarled, and my eyes widened. His smile only increased.

  I hung my head, not wanting to let him win, but I had no other choice. He had Talon.

  I couldn’t feel even the slightest of pulls to signal to me that Talon was alive, but if my father was using him as a threat, he had to be. I had to keep him that way.

  “Hello, Father,” I growled from behind clenched teeth.

  “Good, good.” He grinned and nodded his head to someone in the dark; the chains loosened, sending me tumbling to my knees. My arms were still extended above my head, although not as painfully as they were a moment before.

  “You do what I say, Wynifred. I do not care what deal Talon worked out with Edmund. You are my child, and I will do with you what I please.” His voice was soft as he kneeled beside me, his finger pushing aggressively into the tender skin of my now battered face.

  “You stay silent, you do as I say, and we may not have to do this anymore.”

  I glared at him, not willing to look away. I may not rise to him, but I refused to cower in defeat.

  He took my silence as affirmation. “Good girl,” Timothy said, his voice made it sound like he was addressing a dog. “Now, your brother has just arrived in Prague, and I am sure he has news, if not a heart, for your master.” He smiled once more before disappearing into the darkness, the heavy sound of his footsteps on the stairs announcing his departure.

  I tried to focus through the dark, squinting to see anything through the black. Without the aid of my magic, I saw nothing. I gave up and sank back into the wall, trying to ignore the fire that was thrumming in my shoulders and arms.

  “Do what he says, Wynifred, and keep your secret safe.” The voice echoed from the darkness where the whimpers had come from before, the sound deep and rough like sandpaper. I recognized it at once. It was the same voice I had heard in Ovailia’s room, the one that had told me to run.

  So, it was the battered man who was there.

  “What secret? What are you talking about?” I asked into the dark, my voice broken and muffled thanks to the swelling in my face.

  “No talking!” The warning from what could only be a guard was loud and powerful. I sunk into the stone, trying to prod that sleeping magic again.

  For years, I had watched Edmund and my father drag Skȓíteks down to the pit of whatever house we lived in. I had heard the screams, seen the blood that they washed off their hands. Now I was on the receiving end. I didn’t want to know what was behind the screams. I didn’t want to see the blood being drawn.

  Not that I had a choice.

  The minutes stretched into hours and thankfully, my arms began to go numb again. My head swam as my blood flow got all muddled, my body calling for water, food, and above all, a bathroom. None of which, I knew, would be provided.

  I shifted my weight for the millionth time, the chains rattling as my joints surged with pain before settling back into the burn of numbness that was becoming normal.

  Still, sleep did not come, no matter how much I wished it would.

  I jumped as steps sounded on the staircase, the loud thump of feet cutting through the icy silence. Tension built in my stomach as the feet raced closer, the flare of fear working its way up my spine.

  “This guy is heavy!” The thick voice of a man filtered down the stairs, his voice deepened by the echo of the stairway.

  “Stop complaining and use your magic.” Another voice joined the first, causing my stomach to twist.

  “This is ridiculous,” the first man said. “Edmund is just going to kill them all anyway.”

  An impatient growl followed the first man’s comment and a loud rumble of something being dropped on stone echoed through the cold, dark room.

  “What is going on here?” A new voice, a voice I recognized at once, cut across the first two. All of the fear and tension I felt multiplied.

  Cail's snarl was loud and angry as dozens of footsteps joined the first two who had clogged the stairwell.

  My eyes were drawn to the only light I had seen in hours, a gentle blue light that grew stronger as the voices moved closer. I pulled toward it, like a moth, my desperation to see rippling into my spine. Soon, the glow was enough to filter into the prison, letting me see what hell I had been trapped in.

  The prison was a long, wide hall. One half was broken up with thick metal bars that segmented us into five-foot by five-foot squares, there was not enough space to lie flat and straight in the cells. There were no windows, and it was obvious that nothing had been cleaned for centuries.

  I had smelled the mildew before, but now I knew why. A glistening sheen of wet covered the stone, the bars, even the large padded stool where a lone guard had sat. All the cells were empty to my left; as well as all, but one, to my right—where the battered man I had seen before was chained by his hands against the wall. He caught my gaze as I looked at him, the bright green of his eyes startling even in the dark. His eyes pleaded with me from behind his unkempt beard and hair as he placed his finger to his lips. I only nodded; the need for silence was evident.

  “Why aren't you two down there yet?” Cail continued, his voice rising.

  “I'm sorry, sir,” the first man said, his voice soft and pleading.

  I couldn't help the twitch that moved through my spine as Timothy's voice joined the others. “Just get down there and do what you were asked.”

  “Yes, sir,” the two men mumbled together, and the footsteps returned, the light increasing as they all moved into the prison.

  The battered m
an’s warning was lost the moment I saw them. The two men I had heard arguing a moment before carried with them a hulking form with a mess of sandy brown hair I knew all too well.

  “Talon!” I couldn't help it; I screamed, I yelled, and I fought against my chains. The small space filled with my voice as I yelled for him, the rattling of my chains almost loud enough to drown out my panic.

  Talon didn't respond. He didn't even twitch as they dragged him into the cell right next to mine, dropping him to the ground with a thud. They didn’t even bother to chain him up before they locked him in his cell.

  My body was on fire as I fought against the chains. Every muscle, every bone, pulled in agony. I barely registered the pain. My need to reach him was too strong. I needed to touch him, to feel his heartbeat, to prove that he was still alive. I screamed, battled, yelled and pleaded, knowing it was of little use, but still, I couldn't help myself.

  “Will someone shut her up?” I heard Timothy yell above my screams. I should have seen someone coming, but I was so focused on Talon’s limp body in the cell next to mine that I didn't know anyone had come into my cell until a foot collided with my stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of me and sending me back against the wall.

  I stopped screaming as I groaned in pain, gasping for breath. The chains around my wrists clattered as I slid down the wall, my arms pulling back into their extended position above my head. I stared at Talon until a strong hand grasped my jaw; I winced at the pressure on the bruised chin as he turned me to face him. My jaw instantly tightened.

  “Was this your handiwork, brother? I will make you—”

  “Don't push me, Wynifred!” Cail sneered right in my ear before his closed fist hit me hard against my cheek.

  I turned back to look at him, my eyes narrowing in fight and warning. It was a useless threat; there wasn’t anything I could do to him. He smiled once before moving out of the cell to stand in the small hallway that lined the jail block.

  “Ryland,” Cail said, his attention turning from me to the black-eyed man behind him. My head whipped up as Cail spoke his name. I didn’t know why I didn’t expect him to be here. Ryland was just as much one of Edmund’s puppets as my brother was now.