Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1)

by Ricki Delaine

  Shapes of gray and black moved restlessly behind lined metal. Flame light glinted from the occasional fang and claw. When something in one of the cages fluttered, the noise it made startled Ria, making her heart beat faster. She knew that breathy whistle and struggled to keep quiet. The thing the Protector had killed in the forest had come from the palace.

  As shocking as that was to her, the Protector was right next to her, sweeping his gaze around the room, too. Quietly taking it all in and not seeming even a little surprised. At all. She threw him a questioning look (it may have looked a little frightened), but if he understood what she was asking, he didn’t say. Shaking his head at her and stepping back, they silently paced back to where they’d started. He nodded at the two directions remaining, as if to say, “Which way?”

  Maybe he hadn’t understood her unspoken question, but she knew what he meant. Ria reached for whatever had guided her before, searching for that odd sense of knowing. She told herself it was just like when she’d picked up on that bully-boy’s energy, or the guards searching the hall. Nothing. She tried again, resisting the urge to scream. A half-remembered escape wasn’t much better than no escape at all. But again, she came up blank. No scrambled imagery, no sense of dread, no simple knowledge of which way to go. Just the dim light behind them from the monster-filled room, the smell of damp earth and the sound of Theron’s steady breathing beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably.

  Though clearly not happy, he didn’t seem surprised. He gave a tug at her elbow and stepped ahead, moving towards the path on their right. Sighing, she followed. It was getting more difficult to see the further they went, as the light faded from the room of horrors. She was just thinking of reaching for the lamp he still held, to remove the shutter, when he sped up. He pulled away from her, suddenly disappearing from sight.

  Her heart nearly stopped when she lost sight of him and she walked faster, plunging into the darkness ahead of her. Tripping over something on the floor, she stumbled. Scrambling to keep her feet under her, her hands reached out for something to grab onto. Remembering the hard stone walls that had surrounded them so far, she already knew – this is going to hurt.

  And then strong arms were around her, stopping her fall. As she stumbled into him, she heard his quiet sound of pain before he said quietly, “I’ve got you.”

  Without meaning to, her hands reached up to grab at the support he offered, gripping his arms briefly before remembering his wounded shoulder. She snatched her hands back quickly. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said frantically, trying to catch her balance and step away from him at the same time.

  She could hear a smile in his voice as he replied, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” But it wasn’t, because she was entirely too close to him. Again. She felt her face heat and was grateful it was pitch dark, because she was sure she must be bright pink. “I frightened you. I didn’t mean to get so far ahead. I thought I saw something,” he said, and she heard the apology in his voice.

  In the dark, she still felt one warm hand against her side steadying her before the room brightened. He’d located a table somehow. Setting the lantern down, there was a faint squeal as he opened the shutter. Candlelight flickered and she could see where they were.

  It was a small room. A table with a candle, a resting mat. Linens, ages old and covered in dust. Ria’s eyebrows drew together. Looking at the way they’d come in, it was obvious there had been a heavy door at the entrance, but it was gone now. That’s what she’d tripped on, the shattered remains of it. Chunks of wood were scattered across the floor, and half of the door remained in place – hanging open against the wall, from twisted metal hinges. It was a miracle she hadn’t injured herself on the ragged pieces that remained. It was painfully obvious now that this room had once been a prison cell. Who was in this awful place?

  She turned back to face the Protector and saw that he had moved over to the sleeping mat. He was shifting the blanket aside, apparently looking for anything else that might give them information about this place. Ria glanced out the door again, feeling restless. His earlier warning about the ryouken came back to her. They should be moving. She strained her ears, listening, but everything was silent in the tunnel. They couldn’t depend on that peace, though. It was only a matter of time.

  “Mamoru? We should go.”

  “Yes, I know.” He was frowning now, almost as if he were trying to figure something out. “Just a moment more.” He reached above the mat, near the bundled pillow at the top and picked up something that was hidden from Ria’s view, where she stood. When he held it up to the light, her eyes widened. It was a woman’s comb. Mother of pearl inlaid, she could see the shimmer in the soft light. This was not something a commoner would have. Ria found herself moving toward where he knelt. She reached down to the bundled cloth that foregone person had used to soften the hard stone floor. She didn’t understand why, but she found her hands were moving, unrolling the rough material. Hidden inside it was a small bottle of ink, a brush and several pieces of parchment, thick with fine brush-strokes. Ria could imagine the person sitting here, in this tiny room, writing. Filling these pages.

  Carefully picking up the stack, she gently fanned them. She swayed as shock rippled through her, not noticing Theron’s look of alarm – not noticing as he reached out to steady her again. She wasn’t imagining the person writing these. She was remembering nights, endless hours, sitting here, at this table. Her hand moving across parchment.

  She ran her fingers over the fine script, feeling the faintest impression of the ink on the yellowed paper. What was happening to her? She opened her mouth to blurt it all out, but fear made her throat constrict and a tight horror build in her stomach, making her want to run back the way they’d come. Back to the hidden passage, back to that wretched closet. Better to risk the guards in the palace than this frightening knowledge of things she’d never known, things she’d never done.

  No sooner had the thought of escaping this new horror formed in her mind when she heard a sound, far away. A bang. Like a wooden trapdoor being thrown open.

  She exchanged a glance with the Protector, who was already picking up the lantern, tucking the comb into his belt. Ria quickly and carefully rolled the parchment up and put it into a fold in her modified yukata.

  Stepping out into the hallway, they turned to the last possible exit, the middle corridor. Sending a silent prayer to the goddess, Ria hoped that this would lead them out and not to another dead end. They moved into it at a near run and it stretched out before them, leading into darkness the lamp couldn’t reach. They ran for a while, the only sound their footsteps and the increasing cadence of harsh breathing. Ria looked over at the man beside her, concerned. His steps were still steady, his movements still confident, but she could see the strain of pushing himself so hard, in the clench of his jaw and in the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

  Just as it occurred to her that he might be in trouble, she heard the baying howl of one of the ryouken. It was quickly joined by another.

  Already running as fast as she dared along the rough floor, she couldn’t spare a look back. The tension of listening for the scrabble of claws made her head hurt. She probably wouldn’t be able to hear it over her pounding heart. Worse, the tunnel was narrowing. The floor was inclining too, leading them up as the walls closed in, suffocating as the space around them tightened.

  The shadows around them grew deeper, darker and the two of them skid to a stop when it was obvious that it actually wasn’t just shadows in front of them. It was stone.

  Theron looked back the way they had come, trying to gauge how long they had. Minutes, if luck was with them. Ryouken were wickedly fast and led their hunts with their noses.

  They would follow the trail to the room of cages and then to the smaller room. Undoubtedly their handlers would be struggling to control them, as they always did. He thought darkly that it should be expected when you try to harness such creatures.

  The girl next to
him stood frozen at the sight of the great stone blocking the end of the tunnel. For that’s what it seemed to be. It wasn’t as though the tunnel just ended, the makers deciding this would be as far as they would dig. No, it was as if someone had sheared off the end of the passage and simply stopped up the end with stone, like a cork to seal a bottle of wine.

  He could hear Ria’s breathing, quick and near panicked. He felt responsible, even knowing that she had come into the palace through sheer insanity and of her own free will. It didn’t change that she had come for him. It would be his fault if she died.

  His ears strained to hear if their enemy was getting closer. Nothing yet, but he knew they were coming. The ryouken always caught their prey.

  Desperately, he looked at the surface in front of them again. Nothing had changed, but the enigma remained. Who had closed off the end of this tunnel? Then, he noticed an etched seal, barely visible in the stone and he knew the answer. One of his predecessors. A Protector to the previous lady, or one before that. The Mamoru. He ran his fingers over the etched stone. “Seal.”

  He thought back to the afternoons watching Kino and his son, training for the day that the Kamiryoku, the Strength of the Divine, would be passed down. He remembered the desolate hollow ache, knowing his destiny was not written as his adopted brother’s was. Cale may have accepted him as a brother, but he was no true son of the Isao clan.

  The old man’s words, soothingly gruff and spoken with the genuine intent to offer consolation, had only hurt. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Theron. You are a fine fighter. Cale was born for this. You’ll find your place.”

  Theron understood, but it hadn’t been an easy thing, sitting at the edge of the training area. Feeling sick that in this one way, he’d never be good enough. Watching them going over and over the movements, until muscle memory overruled all else. Knowing on some level that though his brother couldn’t access the power yet, his technique was flawless.

  Watching the glow of pride in Kino’s eyes as he watched his son train to reach unerringly into that quiet place, shaping the power into what he needed. And then the unthinkable happened. Cale was gone, leaving Kino with empty eyes, a broken heart and the duty had been transferred to Theron.

  The ceremonial ritual on the day of his appointment had been performed meticulously, as dictated by tradition. But it was an empty promise, because the power, the gift, remained with the Isao bloodline. Without an heir to pass the power to, the line was broken. Unless the gods took interest in the path of mortals again, there was no repairing it.

  Kino knew it, Theron knew it. So did the Emperor. And the thought made Theron angry.

  He didn’t know why he did it, because it was fruitless. He closed his eyes, envisioning those afternoons from so long ago. Seeing in his mind’s eye the movements Kino had repeated so often he almost felt the memory of them in his own muscles. Now, Theron did them himself, willing the seal to release the power that had been placed within it.

  He heard a gasp behind him. Oh. Yes, the village girl. Standing there, watching him, as he finished the movements. He tried to dismiss the small sound, tried not to feel like a fool for doing something so pointless and focused instead on trying to sense the power that Kino had told his son how to reach for.

  For a moment it felt like he could almost touch it, that something was there. But it was slippery and hesitant. And then it was gone. Pain began to grow in his shoulder, reminding him of the injury that was probably torn open again. Heaving a quiet breath, he looked at the symbol. He’d known it was impossible, it was something he couldn’t do. The evidence was before him. The etching–cold, dark and unchanged.

  “Mamoru?”

  The worry in her voice tickled at the edge of his awareness. That’s when he heard it, below the sound of her voice was another, softer and growing louder.

  The sound of claws running over hard-packed earth and boots, fast and purposeful.

  ˜ ˜ ˜

  Teeth were what she saw first, then black, black eyes – as a low rumbling growl echoed in her ears. Ryouken. Oh, please no. Without any of the softness of the dogs they resembled, they were the Emperor’s most effective weapon. Standing taller than her hip, even on four legs, they were long, narrow and built for speed, with bare, blackened skin stretched tight over corded muscle. Barrel-thick chests and heavily muscled jaws were where the similarity to their gentler cousins ended.

  They all had eyes like death, coal-black shot through with red. And their limbs weren’t right, they weren’t all the same length. It made their steps lurch, hitching when it should be smooth, not slowing them in the least, only making them monstrous. Worst of all, ryouken had too many teeth for their mouths, so their lips could not even cover them all, as if the mad god who created them did so for the sole purpose of killing.

  They were straight out of Ria’s nightmares.

  She froze as the first one reached them, launching itself into the air, its jaw stretched wide and eager for blood. She didn’t have time to scream as the Protector drew a blade with one hand and shoved her behind him. He flipped the knife in his hand to bury it in the chest of the animal, heaving it to the right with a harsh breath that she barely heard under the death cry of the hound.

  The guardsman who’d released the creature hesitated at how quickly his beast was taken down. That was the opening the Protector needed. He leapt forward, ducking under the man’s wild swing and delivering a punch to the abdomen that had the guard doubling over. Gasping, the guard swore at him, beginning to straighten as he reached for his weapon. The Protector smiled grimly before throwing a strike to the man’s temple, knocking the guard down and moving to greet the next opponent before the man landed. Ria darted forward, reaching for the short sword on the belt of the now unconscious guard. It was stuck. She tugged desperately, trying to see what it was caught on, watching the fight unfolding in front of her.

  She saw the second hound go down at the edge of her vision, the Protector placing his foot on the twitching corpse to retrieve the dagger he’d skewered it with. Frantically giving the sword another wrench, it finally ripped free (bringing the belt and a throwing knife with it), making the young woman stumble before she caught her balance.

  Her eyes went back to the two combatants. She couldn’t help the cold flush that ran through her. The second guard would not be so easy. He’d backed up out of easy reach, wary and looking for weakness. With a chill she remembered how hurt the Protector had been in the forest, and that he’d already fought many times over since then. She’d noticed also that though he’d killed the ryouken without hesitation, he was only disabling the guards. Coldly, a small part of her knew that would cost him. No, it would cost them, if they didn’t escape soon. It left them with just as many potential attackers.

  That same cold train of thought followed through to its most likely end. There was no way out of this. They would keep coming, the guards and their ryouken. She and the Protector were going to die. If not here, then nearby – they couldn’t possibly reach the safety of the woods.

  The men in front of her weren’t paying attention to her. They were focused on each other, waiting for the moment the first move was made. Ria looked for a way to help and wondered if it was obvious to their enemy how the Protector favored his injured side. It was slight, but she could see it. Watching the guard’s mouth curve in a sudden smile, she knew he’d seen it also. The man edged to the right, seeking out the weakness he’d noticed. And cried out sharply when the knife Ria threw lodged in his thigh. He turned, livid and wholly focused now on her, forgetting the danger in from of him. The Protector stepped in, cracking the hilt of his blade over the top of the man’s head. Eyes rolling up into his head, the guardsman dropped. Kneeling down, the Protector pulled the man’s sword, still sheathed, placing it on his own belt. Ria realized then that he’d done all his fighting so far armed only with a dagger and his bare hands.

  Theron’s voice was rough. “That won’t be all of them.” Nodding, Ria pushed away t
he worry that he wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. He was right. They could be seconds away, or minutes. But they would come.

  “What were you doing earlier?” She pointed at the etching and cringed inside when his expression shuttered and something like shame flickered in his eyes.

  “I was hoping for a miracle. It didn’t happen.”

  She started to protest, but flinched instead when he snapped at her. “Just. Stop.” Her stomach tightened at the emotion she heard in that admonition. He wasn’t angry with her, she knew. “The energy in the seal has to be released if we want to leave this way and I can’t do it.”

  She shook her head, because she’d seen something while he’d been concentrating with an almost tangible intensity. Or maybe it would be closer to say she’d felt something. A pull, on the edge of her awareness. “Try again.”

  He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “There’s no point.” She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she was imagining the sound of more ryouken, heading their way.

  “Please,” she said, almost desperately. “I think …” She took in his tight expression, hesitating. Heaving a sigh, she figured, he already thinks I’m insane, why not confirm it?

  “… I felt something. I think it was working.”

  Exhaling another breath, he remembered that elusive flutter of almost, just beyond reach. A moment later, he nodded, turning to face the seal. His adrenaline was still up, every sense hyper-aware and ready for a fight. He needed to calm down.

  He listened to that old memory of Kino training his son. Imagined the advice had been for his ears. That the lesson was one he’d had to learn, and practice over and over until he knew it inside and out, and down to his bones. “Reach down, son. Find that still place where the power is. Tell it what you need. Yes! That’s it.” A rare smile as the elder nodded. “Now, the forms –”