I sense it before he does, the moment Garvien enters the enclosure. My skin chills as fear churns inside my belly; my throat tightens, shutting down and making me involuntarily mute.
Blay’s head snaps up, his muscles automatically tense, producing fresh blood to trickle down his tarnished skin. Even in his wounded state he still radiates power, an inbuilt authority which would deter any normal person, unfortunately there’s nothing normal about who stands before him, a sickening smile on his human-appearing face.
Karadese emits a soft moan, her face turning deathly pale when she sees the monster who is her son’s father for the first time in so long.
Garvien’s lips part, unheard words spilling free in a seductive voice I remember all too well. I don’t hear the words which he speaks, but I understand their meaning as soon as Blay’s eyes tighten, defiance setting into his cold stare.
Blay will never succumb to what Garvien proposes, I know that in my heart. Blay would rather die an awful death than put his family, his people in jeopardy.
Without speaking a word, Blay hardens his stance, anticipating his punishment. I know what’s to come, the torture he will endure and even though I want to, I can’t look away. I swallow hard as Garvien’s muscles begin to twitch, the first step of the now familiar transformation from his deceptive human form, back into his natural horrifying state.
I don’t want to look at him, to watch as his flesh doubles in size, melding into muscles which ripple with every breath and skin so pasty his veins are easily visible pumping purplish blood around his grotesque body.
I keep my eyes glued on Blay. Watching as his own eyes never falter, not once shying away from the view that would make a weaker man vomit.
I pray to God that he doesn’t know his mother’s secret, that he hasn’t learnt that the creature before him is, in fact, his own father. That the blood of a monster runs through his own veins. How could he survive that? How can this atrocious fact even be true? Blay is nothing like Garvien. He is good and kind, true and brave. There are no similarities between them, except for one. Garvien’s human form, his striking good looks, the soft flow of his brown hair and angular, chiselled jaw. I’ve got to admit, however nauseating, that Blay does resemble Garvien’s façade.
Only once Garvien has fully merged back into his natural form does Blay look away, not because he’s repulsed by what he sees, but instead it’s as if his eyes are drawn up, called to a place beyond Garvien’s shoulder and he looks off into the distance, straight towards our vantage point.
For just a moment his face softens, a slight reassuring smile tugs at his cracked lips and I know he can sense us watching him. He knows he is not alone, we are here, miles away, desperately searching for him. We will not give up and neither will he.
As Garvien’s beefy hand fly’s through the scorched air towards Blay’s unprotected face, Karadese cuts the connection between our worlds, desperately trying to avoid seeing the punishment Blay will endure.
“No!” I jerk forward, desperately trying to summon the misty vision back. “That can’t be it, you can’t end it there!”
Karadese steps back, allowing the Eidolon Eye to shut down its mystical properties. Her reddened lips are taunt, trying to conceal their soft tremble, her caramel eyes hollow as she faces me.
“It will do you no good watching Blay suffer at the hands of a creature we both know is soulless.”
For a brief moment, I imagine ripping the dagger from her sheath and slicing her skin open to drop its royal liquid back into the milking bowl and summoning Blay’s apparition before the Eidolon Eye has sunk back into its hidden safety.
“You don’t know that!” I spit, anger boiling to the surface all too easily. “Maybe if you give me more time then I might recognise his surroundings.”
“You won’t,” Karadese interrupts.
“Even if I don’t,” I yell back as frustration rumbles in my chest. “Then I don’t want to look away. I have no right to hide from the truth. If Blay is suffering then the least I can do is be there, witness his suffering so he’s not all alone in a world that is nothing but fear and pain!”
The warmth of my heating body flushes across my skin. Anger builds to rage, my racing heart pumping foreign hate through my veins until I can’t stop the tremor from showing the extent of my loss of control.
In the last dwindling seconds of the Eidolon Eye’s presence, I feel an undeniable pull towards the vision. An acute tugging of awareness that links me through the extraordinary distance to the beings I despise and then it’s too late, the pillar twists, the base quickly submerging back into the ground until it’s gone. My only connection with Blay is severed and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Rayna.” Zaneth’s clipped tone does little to condense my sensitive emotions. It takes seeing the brilliant blue of twisting lights flourishing across my skin to realise that I’m about to lose all sense of control.
My jaw clenches tight, teeth crushing together in a painful attempt to stop the evil side of me breaking through.
Zaneth stands rigid, his fist clenched around the hilt of his sword, not wanting to hurt me, but ready to take me down if need be. Part of me wants to act out, to lunge at him and see how far he will go to protect his precious queen, but the other part, the more easily frightened, self-centred part scurries away, dragging the beast down, pushing it back into its corner, caging it much like I was caged for so long, and allowing the Nevithan to take hold of my trembling body to calm me down enough to function once more.
“If we can’t find him, what do we do then?” I push the words from my barely moving lips, ignoring the slight quiver ringing in my hollow voice.
The air grows silent, each heartbeat pounding against my chest sounding like the drum of a death march proceeding in my ears.
Karadese turns to me, the mask of authority slipping from her slender face to reveal the extent of the truth which hounds her. I know what she will say before the words are uttered from her blood-red lips, words that grip me like a vice of uncertainty and allow the stealth cruelty of fear to leach icicles into my veins.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Chapter Six
“We can’t find the Nevithan swords anywhere, we’ve searched for hours but wherever he’s hidden them it’s beyond our knowledge.” Calasis slumps into the chair opposite my bed, his gruff announcement at odds with his usual captivating nature. “Without the swords, we will have no advantage over them in a fight, we are no better off now than before we knew about them.”
I nod, trying to feel the same level of anguish he does, but all that simmers inside my soul is gratitude, however foolish. Without the swords, Calasis and the others won’t go rushing headfirst into a fight beyond their means.
Having the healing power that the swords have bestowed upon me would be incredibly beneficial for the Prytorian warriors, I can’t deny that, but I can’t get past the fact that having such power would limit their precautions, make Calasis, in particular, cocky and inadvertently sloppy. I don’t need his death, or any others, on my conscience. I’ve already put Blay’s life in jeopardy all because of my stupidity. I have to settle that debt and not gain more or I’ll never be free.
“What about you, can you feel them now, like you did back when you ran away?”
The thought to try and sense them had never even crossed my mind. Since Blay took them from me I had basically accepted that I would never see them again, after all, I have no right to them so I hadn’t bothered trying to get them back.
I’m hesitant now, equally wanting and not wanting to feel their presence beckoning to me once again, but with Calasis sitting here, his eyes full of hope, I know that I can’t let him down by not giving it my best shot to find them.
My chest rises as I fill my lungs with the sweet vanilla fragrance that wafts around the room, shutting my eyes and blocking out the images which automatically attack me every time I’m in the darkness.
At first nothing happens, my s
enses pick up only my immediate surroundings, Calasis’s soft breath gliding from his open lips, the warmth of the sun seeping in through the locked window to rest against the floor, the deep swirling vortex of hate hiding just out of reach in the corners of my mind, but then.…. something else.
A twinge of desire, a pull deep inside my chest as if to draw me forward, drifting into my consciousness with a soft, yet pressing need to be reunited with me.
It is faint, almost completely out of reach, but nevertheless, it’s there and that can mean only one thing. They are here, the Nevithan swords are here, somewhere in the castle. If I follow the feeling I might have a chance of finding them, but then what? What would I unleash by deliberately giving them to Calasis?
My eyelids flicker open to see him sitting forward, elbows on his knees as he patiently awaits a hopeful answer.
“Nothing,” the word slips from my lips even as my morality screams out abuse for my deception. “I can’t feel anything at all.”
I don’t know why I say it and once the words are free and I see the light of hope dying in his eyes, I can’t undo it. Maybe I will, but not now, not before I’ve tried every other option. Only then will I follow the invisible thread to my saviour.
“So, what do we do now?” I say, trying to push away the yearning need I’ve connected to.
“We keep searching,” Calasis rubs his strong hands across his baby-faced cheek. “For the swords and for Blay. We send more men in the search parties, find a way to outmanoeuvre them somehow.”
I sit back, leaning against the mountain of pillows taking up room on my bed. My mind continues to wander, putting pieces together only to break them apart in my numerous attempts to make a plan that will get me further than just sitting here idly wasting time until the real warriors find Blay and bring him back.
I feel the plan emerging, coming together in a parcel of hope that I cling on to before it can slip away.
“Your mother has said that search parties have been sent to find him, but they always get overwhelmed.” I start off slowly, trying not to let the budding excitement grow too much. “What about a different approach?”
“Like what?” Calasis has picked up on my simmering excitement and sits forward, eager now to hear what I have to say.
“What if you send a large group of warriors – much bigger than normal, and when the Zantronians are occupied fighting off your army, that’s when another group slip in unnoticed, we hide out until the coast is clear. Once they have battled, we can begin the search without any Zantronians on our backs.”
I can see his mind whizzing behind his sparkling eyes, turning over each scenario before committing to my idea. When his head nods slightly, sending his tawny hair falling across his forehead I know he’s agreeing to my plan.
“That’s good, I like it. With one exception. You aren’t coming.”
“What?” I choke. “Of course I’m coming, it’s my plan!” I jerk up to my knees, my hands raised as I shout at him.
“You can’t leave me behind, that’s not fair, Calasis!”
To his credit, Calasis doesn’t flinch, even though he’s been on the receiving end of one of my erratic outbursts before.
“It’s not happening. I can’t guarantee your safety. You’d only get in the way.”
“But I’m the only one that can heal – your warriors can’t do that – that’s the whole reason you want the swords!”
“You can’t fight either, and with your lack of skills in that kind of situation you would just be a hindrance.”
“Calasis.”
“No.” He stands, authority I’m not used to from him chases away any of his lingering playfulness. “Unless you can prove to me that you can hold your own in a battle, then you can’t be a part of this attack. Blay wouldn’t want that, Rayna.”
His words are supposed to silence me, to stop me from demanding the impractical. Instead they rumble around in my mind, taunting me with accusations of not being good enough. The simple truth flushes my skin and I raise my head, looking him dead in the eyes.
“Then make me ready.”
***
The sharp echo of wood connecting, rings in my ears, deafening me for a fraction of a second. My eyelids shut, a slow blink to moisten my tired, dry eyes and in that tiny moment, when I’m blind and deaf, he takes his opportunity, slamming his weapon across my back, jostling my body forward until I collapse onto the ground in a heap of useless disappointment.
I roll onto my back, already feeling the welt swelling into the shape of the wooden sword across my shoulder blades. Air whooshes down my burning throat as I struggle to fill my punished lungs while the rest of my body screams out for a break.
“Again,” Zaneth’s voice holds no gentleness and I’m beginning to regret allowing him to teach me how to fight. I’m sure anyone else would be going easier on me, but no, not Zaneth. Truthfully I think he’s got his own agenda, trying to break me enough that I declare defeat and agree to hide away while everyone else puts themselves in jeopardy in a battle that is a result of my carelessness.
“Get off the ground, Rayna.” He looms above me, throwing a shadow across my face. “You can’t expect an opponent to stand around waiting for you to get your arse ready.”
Reluctantly I roll over, dragging my exhausted ‘arse’ off the spongy mat, stretching out my cramping muscles and rolling my shoulders as I stumble to my feet, finally turning to him with as much determination as I can muster onto my scowling face.
He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t need to. The slight twitch of his lips shows me he’s enjoying this far more than necessary, which in turn flares my irritation.
Lifting the heavy, blunt sword out in front of me, I lunge forward, all previous words of wisdom from Calasis vanishing from my mind as I swing the weapon wildly in an attempt to at least inflict a small amount of justice back to Zaneth as he has done to me so many times already this morning.
I see my mistake at the same moment that he does, except his reflexes are much faster than mine and he takes joyful advantage of my inexperience. He strikes before I have time to react, the practice sword, held loosely in his grip, whizzes towards me, connecting with my own weapon, sending a jolt of vibration up my arm, through my bones to shudder deep inside my skull.
My weapon once again clatters to the ground, leaving me defenceless and I brace for the impact just as he whacks the dense wood against my side.
My teeth clamp together, the ever-present simmering anger swirling around inside, begins to grow and I know that if I don’t concentrate I will lose all control.
Right at this moment, that idea isn’t as despicable as what it once was. But I can’t lose control, if I do then I have no chance of joining the search party. Neither Zaneth nor Calasis will allow me to step one foot onto Zantronian soil if they have any doubt about my self-control.
That side of me is too much of a wild card, one that could swing either way, good or bad, and considering the irrepressible rage that swarms through me when the bracelet’s power manifests, I can’t say I blame them. That’s why it’s so important for me to learn how to fight on my own merits, no alien power giving me any advantages – good or bad, it’s got to be me, all me.
Rather than letting the anger burst free in a satisfying emotion filled rage the way I want it to, I open my mouth, words spilling out with more vulnerability than I anticipated.
“Jesus Zaneth, can’t you go a bit easy?”
“Why should I?” he demands. “If you want to run head first into this endeavour, then you have to be prepared. No Zantronian fighter will go easy on you just because you’re a little girl. In fact, they will take pleasure in making you suffer for the respect of their king.”
“The king doesn’t give a crap about me,” I retort.
“You’re probably right, the king wouldn’t care about one human, but that’s not who you are worried about is it?”
The air whooshes out of my lungs at the mere mention of him, his name not eve
n needing to be uttered.
“Garvien will have a bounty on your head. That’s not something you should take lightly. It’s far more serious than even you realise, Rayna, and going through with this half-concocted plan is plainly asking for trouble. He’ll skin you alive if he gets the chance, a chance you seem hell bent on handing to him.”
Shivering tingles flourish across my skin and I have to forcefully swallow the stinging bile churning up my throat.
“What do you expect me to do?” I clench my fists, digging my human nails into my skin, needing the pain to stop the tears from spilling free.
“I can’t just stay back and hide out, Zaneth! Don’t you understand? I have been hiding. The whole time I was there I hid from them, maybe not physically, but in every other way I shut down. I willed myself to be nothing and that’s what I become. I was nothing, I am nothing, all so I could survive, and for what cost? I’m still trapped. Inside my body and my mind, I’m a prisoner and for as long as I hide out I will always be a prisoner. I need to go to Zantron, I need to join the fight, not only to save Blay, we all know I must do that, it’s my fault he’s stuck in this situation, but I have to go to save me too, I don’t know any other way. Prytora has no answers, maybe Zantron will.”
I’m shaking by the time I come to a stuttering finish, unknowingly clawing at the enemy bracelet enough to entice pinpricks of blood to flourish across my skin, and I see it, in his eyes, that he finally understands my anguish, he knows the real reason I must join this fight, it’s the only chance I’ve got to save myself. Always myself. There’s no other choice.
“Pick up your sword.” His contempt has vanished along with the menacing disappointment, being replaced with unwilling cooperation. “Let’s start again.”
He gives me just enough time to clutch the sword’s hilt, swishing the heavy wood out in front of me before he lets his own belt down, not losing the severity of his intense practise sessions, but no longer does the air vibrate with dissuasion. Now Zaneth’s on the same mission as I am, to be able to get me in and out of Zantron, alive.
Fallen Paladin (The Paladin's Curse Book 2) Page 5
