The Legacy (The Darkness Within Saga Book 1)

by JD Franx

  “Oh, Jesus, not again,” he cried and threw up on himself. N’Ikyah and Lycori both hovered over top of him, panic flickering in both of their eyes.

  “It is all right. He is back. Whoever this Jesus is he keeps praying to, you might want to tell him to keep it up. What in all the Heavens of Paradise brought him back this time, I know not.” N’Ikyah, her voice heavy with relief, wiped the perspiration from her nose and forehead on the sleeve above her wrist.

  Lifting Kael’s head off the floor, Lycori slid a stained blanket underneath to give him some comfort. “Gods above, N’Ikyah, how long is she gonna keep this up? She’s gonna kill him if she doesn’t stop.” Kael’s eyes rolled lazily as he tried to follow the conversation.

  “He would already be dead if that is what Mistress Arabella wanted. She needs him broken, or insane, whichever happens first. I just hope she does not push too far. She could kill him with her rage.” She had barely finished speaking when Kael’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body began convulsing in an attempt to shut down again. Power slammed into his chest like an electrical lifeline and his eyes shot open, as again N’Ikyah forced more healing magic into his broken body.

  “Do not do that, Kael. Stay awake. I may not be able to bring you back again if you do not. Here, you need to sit up,” N’Ikyah snapped. With her and Lycori’s help he pulled himself into a sitting position. Lycori draped the mouldy blanket across his shoulders and down his back to prevent the spiked bars from digging into his flesh.

  “You need to quit scaring us like that, love,” Lycori ordered, lifting his chin so he could see her eyes. “I mean it, Kael. Do you understand? You haven’t fought against her this hard to give up now. Suck it up and fight.” Worry blazed in her eyes, her concern showing how close he’d come to death. All he could do was nod. He didn’t have the energy to speak.

  Kael knew he’d been imprisoned for almost two months. The wizard, Galen Vihr, had a natural gift with numbers and took it upon himself to keep track of the days that all cellmates had been imprisoned. As those days crept by, Kael’s sanity seemed to be holding on, but everyone in the cell could tell that it was slipping, especially since the mind games had begun.

  About a month earlier, Arabella started giving Kael nightmares, somehow manipulating what he saw when he slept. Perhaps it was just an illusion, no one really knew and couldn’t even begin to guess. Demonic magic, wrapped in secrecy, was known only to those who used it. The resulting nightmares were getting harder to recover from.

  With his mind locked away with Ember or sometimes even Lycori, things would be great for what seemed like a decent amount of time. Whether it was to escape from the prison with Lycori or to be back at home with Ember, it would ultimately spiral out of control and he would end up killing them with his magic.

  Reality would come crashing back with the memories clear in his mind as the shock or the severity of his wounds sent him into convulsions. When he wasn’t trapped in some morbid dreamworld, the torture would continue in the real world for hours at a time. When the nightmares didn’t corrupt Kael, the Dead Sisters escalated the torture by using more traditional methods. They continued to inject copious amounts of vile magic into his body, causing heightened amounts of torment as it coursed through him. It was possible that permanent damage had been done to his throat from all the screaming he had done. He spoke with a rasp all the time now.

  Several times throughout the day, every day, Arabella would demand that he kill everyone in the cell. Every single time, he refused. When he did, she increased the pain and the duration of his torture. His body was covered in scars of all kinds, almost a third his one hundred and eighty pounds had vanished and he lost count a while ago how many times N’Ikyah had brought him back from the precipice of certain death. Slowly, he was beginning to wish that she couldn’t.

  Even though the situation appeared to be hopeless, Kael sighed, he hadn’t quite given up hope, yet. He could never feel the difference between his normal magic and his underworld magic before, but now, even with the Gyhhura collar still around his neck he could feel a power slowly returning inside him. He wasn’t quite coherent enough when being tortured to feel it, but he suspected that every time Arabella finished with her persecution, the power had increased the smallest bit. He was hoping that with some luck, sooner rather than later, he would be able to override the Gyhhura’s effects. He’d told no one, not even Lycori, because he didn’t want to give her false hope. Besides, to be honest, he didn’t know how long it would be before some part of his brain snapped or his body shut down from the abuse, but if he could last long enough to regain the power he needed to break them free, then he owed it to her to stay alive.

  After the close call, Kael had gotten about six hours rest before Arabella returned with her ternion and vile little creation, Ashea, in tow. Darthinia stayed close behind her leader, but Verrysa remained by the cell door and watched. Kael hadn’t heard the ternion’s third speak a single word in the entire two months he’d been imprisoned. Her piercing, all-seeing eyes made his skin crawl, but she never opened her mouth. It seemed that Kael’s pain was being used as a teaching tool for the young Sister and the small Dead Sister-to-be. The Orotaq guards no longer took chances and as they had been doing for weeks, wasted no time when dealing with Lycori. A massive backhand fist knocked her into the bars and a heavy leather boot crushed her to the floor, knocking her unconscious. As always, she was then tied with her face to the bars. Even the slightest movement was agony once she recovered consciousness. Silver from the sharp burrs leaked into her bloodstream, waking her after little time passed, but she’d be kept like that until the Dead Sisters were done with Kael and left the cell.

  Arabella and Ashea stood before Kael, both with matching, wicked grins pasted to their faces. “I hope you’ve gotten some rest and are finally willing to be a little more co-operative, Kael,” Arabella said. It was the same line Kael had heard countless times before.

  “You know me, ugly. Anything to disappoint,” he scoffed, his voice cracked with weakness as he laid against the bars, too exhausted to stand.

  “Fair enough. I have something special for you today. I promise you’ve never experienced anything quite like it,” Arabella said, as she bent over to look him in the face. Kael prayed that he would be able to retain his senses this time so he could see if the pain, torture, or if something else she was doing was recharging his magic with power that he suspected and hoped with all sincerity would turn out to be linked to the underworld.

  Always a bastard for punishment, he smiled. “We both know I’m not going to kill these people, so just get on with it. Maybe today it will be good for both of us,” he chuckled. His mirth was short lived, his torn, raw throat forcing him into silence before Arabella’s backhand arrived.

  N’Ikyah begged him to be quiet. “Gods, Kael, you need to stop. You are not healed yet. Why make it worse? I can only heal so much… Stop… Please.” He looked at her and winked, her narrowed eyes showing the depth of her confusion.

  Arabella gave Kael a cruel smile as two of the Orotaq warriors approached. Lifting him from the floor they pinned him to the side of the cage making up the guard house. A familiar sense of deja-vu rolled through his mind. Kael smiled at his private thoughts, catching the witch’s attention.

  “I see you’ve regained your sense of humour today, and just in time, too. One more thing for us to break. Did you enjoy your last visit with your beautiful wife?” Her crooked smirk finally touched his anger and he lunged against the guards, accomplishing little.

  They slammed him back against the bars until his head drooped to his chest, stunned. “Don’t get your hopes up, tough guy,” the guard said to Kael. “You won’t be going to see her again today.” Arabella’s smirk transformed into a beaming grin at the guard’s words before she turned her focus back to Kael.

  “Very true. You will, however, beg to watch your sweet wife die before today is over, as a reprieve from what’s to come. I promise you that,” she w
hispered, as she turned to her novice. “Ashea, go tell her we are ready.”

  The young novice danced from the cell with the vigour granted to those her age, and returned in a matter of minutes escorting a very old woman. As with the others, the putrescent evil emanating from her very being was almost visible, and though he was still dazed, Kael could sense the blackness that moved through her aura like a calm breeze. There was no longer any doubt, his power was returning. Before, thanks to the Gyhhura collar, his extra senses didn’t work at all and sensing auras had become a thing of the past.

  The old woman entered the cell moving at a pace common to those late in life. She paid close attention to both Lycori and N’Ikyah, but it lasted only a few seconds before she turned her bright, clear, eyes to Kael. She placed the first two fingers of her left hand under his chin and lifted his head so he’d look into her eyes.

  “I am the Cardessa, the leader of the Dead Sisters, and we have waited a very long time for you to come back to us, Master. Why do you so adamantly deny your birthright?” the old woman asked, in a voice hollowed with age.

  Kael returned her stare and with as much conviction as he could muster. “My birthright doesn’t include killing innocent people. It never will. If you are the new sadistic freak of the daily torture ritual, then just get on with it.” The witch stared at him for several minutes with the calm, detached smile and empty, dead eyes that Kael had seen on the faces of well-known serial killers back home as they were paraded in front of the cable news cameras. In fact, the Cardessa made the worst Earth had to offer look like church choir boys. The thought made his stomach clench with fear far beyond anything Arabella had caused in the prior two months.

  With no change in her demeanour, the ancient witch bowed. “If your wish is for the pain to commence, then please forgive me, Master. I will obey. When you are feeling more yourself, my life will be yours for what I am about to do. I will surrender it willingly if that is your decision, but not until you become what you are meant to be: a true wizard and master of death.”

  She turned to look at N’Ikyah with hatred dripping from the gentle, black void that was her voice. “I’ve read your diary, slave. You waste my time and the pages you write on with empathetic weakness. If Kael dies, I promise you that every healer trained with your group will be skinned alive, so will your lone remaining sister. Do you understand?” The calm sincerity of the Cardessa’s threat caused the fine hairs on Kael’s spine to stand and quiver before they passed an uneasy chill into his body.

  Though Kael was too terrified to speak, N’Ikyah wasted no time replying. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The Cardessa smiled at Kael, clearly pleased by his heightening fear. Her grin widened when she placed her right hand on his chest.

  “Are you ready, boy? You will soon learn that my understanding of pain is much deeper than the others here. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just kill these insignificant fools?” she asked.

  “Never,” Kael said through clenched teeth, as his body shook with fear.

  With the softest twist of the Cardessa’s hand, a quiet pop of magic echoed within his flesh and was followed by the gut-wrenching snap of broken ribs. Kael ground his teeth harder, refusing to cry out, as again the gentlest magic splintered two more ribs along the right side of his chest. Unable to hold back the agony that ripped through his side, Kael’s cry rolled through the cells. The damaged ribs ground together inside his chest with every breath, making him cry out even more. In an instant, he choked and coughed up warm blood, muffling his screams.

  Still not satisfied, the Cardessa pointed a crooked finger at N’Ikyah. “Please heal him before he chokes on his own blood. Do not deaden his senses or the next ribcage that collapses will be yours.” The pleasantry made the hairs on N’Ikyah’s arm stand and goose bumps visibly rose to the surface of her skin, but she started to move, regardless.

  The Orotaq guards dropped Kael into a busted heap on the stone floor, gasping and choking for air, as N’Ikyah raced to his side.

  “I am so sorry, Kael,” she whispered, carrying out the Cardessa’s orders. “But this will hurt.” Kael winced as he felt his chest began to fill with the familiar healing magic and the pleasant sensation that always followed it, but unlike other times, it lasted only seconds before it turned to a raging fire that danced across his nerves and spread through his entire chest. He struggled to maintain consciousness. The torment increased beyond anything he could imagine as broken and splintered bone pulled back through his punctured lung and torn muscles. Frayed nerves sparked together and ruined muscle rejoined as more bone twisted and snapped back into place with a wet crack. A quiet, but tormented cry rasped through his lips as a small part of him remained grateful the Cardessa used demonic magic that N’iKyah could heal. As he pulled a clean, pain-free breath into his lungs and coughed up the last of the blood, he heard the Cardessa’s soft, emotionless voice again.

  “Pick him up and hold him still. We wouldn’t want him twitching and wiggling away,” she said, directing the Orotaq to pin Kael to the cell once more. She gazed at his repaired body as he panted from the exertion of the forced healing. “If only I had the time to stay here, my dear, we could explore the wonders of true agony together. For nearly six hundred years, I have studied little more than the different ways to bring agony to others, whether magic, mundane, or even the two combined. Your tolerance is very impressive.”

  Though his raw throat burned with pain, Kael chuckled. “Yeah, I believe it. Your big mouth is your best weapon. If you keep blabbing your idiotic nonsense in my face, I just might have to give up and kill someone.” At first he saw no change in her expression. But his patience and a slow smile were eventually rewarded as the old crone’s cheek and left eye began to twitch with anger. “It looks like you’re developing a tick, Cardessa. You might want to have one of your healers check that out before you have a stroke…” He burst out laughing. The twisted look of confused hatred on her wrinkled face transformed his laugh into hysterical cackling.

  It was short lived, however, as the Cardessa quickly recovered. “You seem to have that effect on people, Kael. Perhaps this will slow down your babbling mouth.” Without looking away, she held out her hand. Arabella gave her a long black-bladed dagger. Kael recognized the forged obsidian blade as the one Lycori had given him in the Forsaken Lands or one identical to it “I have never seen someone with a higher tolerance to pain, or magic, than you have,” she commented, as she held the dagger before his face. “The thing is, when magic and the mundane are combined, the most… extraordinary things begin to happen. You shall see.” The stoic serial killer smile returned, along with a flush of colour to her cheeks.

  She whispered, trailing her index finger along the top of the black blade’s spine. “Haegr bal.”

  Calm red and orange flames rolled and flickered from her fingertip, dancing along the shiny blade. Kael’s face blanched white with fear for the third time since the Cardessa had entered their cell. He could see the pleasure in her eyes as she pushed the fiery, black tip into his skin, stopping when it was an inch deep.

  “Grafa,” she sighed, as a sly grin ghosted across her mouth. Kael stared in horror as the flames wormed their way to the end of the dagger. Sliding with a gentle sizzle past the pierced lip of flesh, the flames entered his body as if they were a living entity. His nose twitched at the smell of burned meat, his. Biting his lip, agony that only burning skin can inflict spread through his shoulder.

  “I’ve been told that what your feeling is similar to what a vampyr feels when their veins fill with silver. Something akin to being burned alive.” As the Cardessa smiled a sadistic, but calm smirk, and glanced towards Lycori, it was clear that she’d finally gotten the better of the back and forth with Kael. As the fire began to work its way through Kael’s shoulder and down into his chest, his body began to shake. Sweat broke from the surface of his skin and quickly started to run down his face, back and chest. “Words will never cause the same amount of pain that magic an
d a sharp blade can inflict, Kael. You must know that by now.”

  The fire under Kael’s skin snaked off in various directions as bright red trails formed beneath the surface of his skin and spread across his chest, back, and face like some distorted road map to hell. His shaking soon gave way to convulsions as he cooked from the inside out. With his teeth locked together with muscle spasms, grunts and explosive gasps of air sputtered from his lips.

  Lycori wheezed as she came around and panicked at the sight. “…Kael? Gods, N’Ikyah, help him!” she screamed, before receiving another Orotaq boot to the back of her head.

  Momentarily frozen by the horror of what was happening, N’Ikyah jumped to Kael’s aid and received a smack from Arabella that sent her sprawling to the floor. With no other option, she prostrated on the floor, pleading instead.

  “Please stop, Mistress. I can not heal damage that severe from bonded magic. Please. I cannot even soul-graft if there is no body left. Mistress, I beg of you…” Tears ran down N’Ikyah’s cheeks eyes as the old witch glanced her way. As if seriously considering whether to let Kael die or not, the Cardessa finally relented, nodding.

  Furious, the old woman grasped Kael by the throat. “I’m beginning to think you’re not worth the trouble. Kalla bak,” the Cardessa snapped, calling back the fire-magic burning though Kael’s body and finally withdrawing the red hot blade from his cauterized shoulder. N’Ikyah rushed to his side as the Orotaq let him crumple to the cell floor once more.

  The Cardessa bent over his sweating form and placed her hand on his shoulder. A single word of the Lower Brethren’s language issued forth from the Cardessa’s lips as a slimy black ooze raced into Kael’s body through the branded puncture wound caused by the blade. It followed the trails of red mapped out by the fire, darkening them further, before disappearing deep into his body.

  “Fix him, healer, before he burns alive,” the Cardessa said, in a tender voice, as she grinned at the young slave girl. Struggling to rise, the old witch turned her back on Kael and N’Ikyah. “Arabella, the magic I put into him will intensify the pain of physical torture and will also strengthen your own magic for the next moon. Remember. Sometimes a more subtle touch will go farther and do more than brute force. He won’t hold out now, either physically or mentally, after a few more days like this. I’m returning to the swamps. Thirty days from now I want results. Do not let me down. I don’t want to send Voranna’s ternion here to replace you.”