Wildfire: Book Two of the Everealm Series

by J. D. Wright

  “Give it back.”

  Dahlia stood and walked over to the other side of the cell. Now that she had the torch, she could see exactly where the man in the cell beside her was standing. He walked up and held the amulet in the air.

  “Give it back to me,” she repeated.

  “Funny, isn’t it? That you stole this amulet, and the wizard tried to steal it from you, only I had already stolen it back…”

  “I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it, with permission. And I have to return it.” Somehow.

  “Permission from who?”

  “From a friend.” She wouldn’t have referred to Dagan as a friend under any other circumstances, but just now, it seemed like a better explanation.

  “A friend who also stole it?”

  “No. A friend who owns it.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I am the only owner.”

  “Now I know you are lying. That amulet belongs to my friend. It was his fath—“

  Dahlia stared at the man. Could he really be…?

  “You’re Dagan’s father. You’re Edmund,” she said. “You are supposed to be dead.”

  “Am I? I feel rather confined, but still alive, I would say.”

  “How did you…? Why are you in my father’s dungeon?”

  “That is none your business, I’m afraid.”

  Dahlia didn’t ask any other questions. She placed the torch back in the hook. Then she lowered herself to the floor and sat there, quietly, trying to come up with a plan to escape. If what Mereck said were true, she didn’t have much time left.

  ~*~

  Dahlia woke on the cold ground. The window at the top of the wall in her cell was letting in a small ray of sunlight. She almost wished it didn’t. Without light, she wouldn’t have been able to see her condition or her surroundings. Sometimes it was best to be oblivious.

  A rattle of keys caught her attention. The door of her cell opened and a soldier came in, taking her by the arm and lifting her to her feet. Using a piece of rope, the soldier tied her wrists together. Dahlia thought about hitting the soldier in the stomach with her knee, but even if she could get out of the cell, there was no way to know how many other soldiers were standing guard in the dungeon. She quickly looked over at Edmund’s cell, catching a glimpse of him curled up asleep on the ground, just before she was escorted out.

  The soldier led her up to the main floor, then continued up another floor to her old chambers. But when he opened the door, it looked nothing like before. Gone were her lilac colored drapes and quilts. The bed was missing and in its place was a large wooden chair with leather straps nailed to it. It didn’t take long for her to realize that whatever this room had become, it was no longer welcoming. She waited for the soldier to look away, then she bolted for the door, but Vallica suddenly appeared in the doorway. She was wearing tight black leather pants, boots, and a red blouse under her black corset. Dahlia took a few backward steps before the soldier grabbed her and drug her by the arm, over to the chair.

  “No,” Vallica said. “I want her to stand.” She instructed the soldier to wrap a chain around the rope that had Dahlia’s wrists bound. The chain was threaded through a ring in the ceiling. The soldier used the other end of the chain to hoist Dahlia’s arms over her head.

  The entire time, Dahlia refused to look Vallica in the eye. She knew exactly what was coming and if her step-mother could see any fear, it would only fuel her fury. Once Dahlia was securely bound, the soldier bowed to Vallica and left the room.

  “How do you like my outfit, dear? I wore it especially for you.”

  Vallica walked around the room as she spoke.

  “Do you recognize these?” Vallica teased, holding up a black leather whip. “Your father just loved to use these toys to play with his whores. And do you know how many of those whores I had to endure, over the years?”

  Dahlia stayed silent. She wasn’t sure why Vallica was prolonging the inevitable, and she wasn’t about to contribute to the delay. She wanted it to be over.

  “Not even a guess? Oh, well. I’ll tell you. Sixty-seven, over the course of our marriage. Your tramp mother was number nine. My, how I wanted so dearly to smother you in your crib. Being forced to care for the child of your husband’s dead whore is something no wife should ever have to endure. And just to think, for a short time, I actually grew to care for you.”

  Bullshit, Dahlia thought. You never cared for me. If you had, you would have stopped my father from using me.

  “Of course, you could never do wrong in your father’s eyes. No. His sweet Ethel always got what she wanted. Always. Even at the expense of his wife, which he PROMISED TO CHERISH!”

  Vallica took a deep breath to compose herself. She couldn’t get too angry, too fast. She would tire too quickly. And she wanted to make this last as long as possible.

  “I’ve changed, Ethel. I am no longer the woman who will stand aside and let her husband tear her in two. If your father were here, he would see that. But, alas, he is not.” She sighed. “I guess, I will just have to take my revenge out on you instead.”

  Dahlia wished she would just get to the point of all of this. It was becoming a bizarre performance.

  “Silas’ punishment, now yours, will be one lash of this whip for every single whore I had to witness straddling my husband.”

  Then it began. The first lash sent a shock of pain through her body. The second was worse. Then the third, fourth, fifth. Dahlia clenched her jaw to prevent herself from screaming, but she couldn’t stop the tears from flying out of her eyes. The whip hit her everywhere, on her back, arms, legs. Her clothing was already torn in the front after her visit with the wizard, but each strike just further ripped it to shreds. Soon, her dress was merely strips of fabric, hanging down her body, barely covering the bloody skin underneath.

  When Vallica was finished, she didn’t say a word. She dropped the whip on the floor and walked out of the room. A few moments later, two soldiers came and unchained Dahlia’s arms. With nothing holding her up, Dahlia collapsed to the floor. The soldiers carried her back to her cell in the dungeon and laid her on the ground.

  She couldn’t move. The one time she tried to sit up, the pain was too great to withstand. For the rest of the day, she laid there. Someone opened a flap on the bottom of the door and slid a small tin cup of water and piece of stale bread into the cell. She forced herself to reach out and grab it. Then, after eating one bite and drinking the cup dry, she willed herself to sleep.

  ~*~

  For two days, no one came to fetch Dahlia. She laid on the ground the entire time, only moving to drink the small cup of water she got each evening. Other than that, she barely opened her eyes. In her dreams, she was somewhere else, with no pain or fear. It was her motivation to sleep so she could dream and escape her current hell.

  On the third day, a large soldier came and tossed a clean linen dress to her feet. Dahlia peeled off the rest of the scraps that was left of her clothing and slid the dress on. Her arms and back were sore. Thankfully, scabs had begun to form over her cuts, making it easier to bear the fabric touching.

  Once she was dressed, the soldier escorted Dahlia out of her cell, up the stairs, and to the main floor of the castle. Instead of going back up to her old chambers, however, the soldier led her down the hallway in the east corridor, past the kitchens and pantries. She was confused at where they could possibly be going, because the hallway they were in would only lead them to outside, near the bakehouse. If she had the strength, she could try to fight the soldier to escape. Freedom was only as far as the end of the hall.

  But before she could even contemplate escaping, a door further down the hallway opened. Vallica stepped out, flanked by three soldiers. It was too late. The look on Vallica’s face was terrifying. But she wasn’t looking at Dahlia. Vallica was glaring at Dahlia’s escort, whose face she couldn’t see for his helmet.

  “I sho
uld have known,” Vallica said. “Mereck was right. You can no longer be trusted.” She reached out and grabbed the helmet, lifting it from the soldier’s head. He didn’t even attempt to stop her.

  When the helmet was removed, Dahlia’s heart skipped a beat. It was Simon, Vallica’s lover, and Silas’ right hand.

  “My love, I—“

  “Don’t call me that! I am your queen. You will treat me like your queen and nothing more.”

  Simon didn’t speak again. Dahlia was stunned. Of anyone in the realm that she would have expected to try to help her escape, Simon would never have been on that list.

  “Take her back to the dungeon,” Vallica said to the soldier on her left. Then she turned to Dahlia. “I will deal with you tomorrow. Enjoy your last night as a princess,” she hissed.

  The soldier took Dahlia by the arm and pulled her away. When they got back to her cell, the soldier opened the door and shoved her in. She fell to her knees, still stunned at what had just happened. Simon had tried to save her. And had they not been caught, she might be free at this very moment. But somehow her step-mother had known. And now Dahlia may never know Simon’s fate, though she was sure it wouldn’t be a good one.

  It was dark when she woke to the sound of the flap on her cell door open and close. Using the small amount of energy she had left, Dahlia pushed herself up to sit and reached out to grab the water cup, drinking the entire thing in one gulp.

  She was about to lay back down when she heard a noise outside of her cell, followed by a thud against the door. Then she heard a key being placed in the lock. Suddenly the door flew open.

  Rowan was standing in the doorway. One of Vallica’s soldiers was in a heap on the ground in front of him. Dahlia blinked to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Not only was he real, but he wasn’t alone. His newfound brother, Reeve, was standing behind him, holding a lantern.

  “You’re late,” Rowan said.

  “I’ve been occupied.”

  “I can see that. Looks like you need better training.”

  Dahlia scowled at him, but deep down she was delighted to see him, even forgetting about all of the guilt she had been carrying around for the past few months.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we should go.”

  Dahlia walked out of the cell, then stopped.

  “Wait!” she said. “Give me the key.”

  Rowan held it up and she quickly snatched it from him.

  “What are you doing? We need to go. Now!”

  “I don’t have time to explain, but this man needs to come with us. Trust me.”

  “Hurry!”

  She slipped the key into the lock on the door and opened it.

  ~*~

  At the edge of the forest, Dagan was pacing. He hated to wait, but he couldn’t pass through. Whomever Sire’s new wizard was, he knew his protection spells well. The shield, often referred to as a disseptum spell, prevented magical beings from crossing. His hand was singed from where he tried. He should have known better than to touch it.

  This was the second time he had been burned by a disseptum spell. The first time, when he was ten years old, he had been tricked by an imp. The devilish creature ran into a cave that was, for some reason, being protected by a wizard. At the time, he didn’t know what the golden veil around the cave entrance meant, but he soon found out when he tried to follow the imp. Those burns took weeks to heal. Thankfully, this time he had a black tea and arnica flower salve in his tower that would help heal the burn.

  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see them coming toward him. He immediately noticed there was a fourth figure, but it was too dark to see who it was. It was just like Rowan, though, to rescue another prisoner in addition to the one they were sent to retrieve. When the group reached Dagan, and he got a good look at the fourth person, he couldn’t understand why they would rescue him. The man looked old and brittle. Like he would keel over at any moment. What was the purpose of rescuing someone who was about to die?

  It wasn’t until he lifted his lantern and saw the man’s face that he started to feel a chill run over him. Familiar hazel eyes were looking back at him.

  “Hello, Dagan.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How is she?”

  “Better. I was able to heal most of the cuts, but she may have a few scars. It’s too early to tell.” Dagan closed the door behind him.

  “I should never have let her go back there,” Bree said, shaking her head. The guilt she felt for putting her cousin through that ordeal was incredible.

  “I’m just glad you sent us to find her when you did, Queen. Another night and she would have been executed.” Dagan fell into step beside the queen as they walked down the hall, toward the wizard’s tower.

  Bree tried to avoid thinking about what would have happened if they had waited any longer. Rowan was convinced that Dahlia fled when she didn’t return on the fifth day and thought they were crazy for attempting to find her. But Bree had faith in her cousin. She had witnessed a change in her and maybe it was foolish to believe, but Bree wanted to trust Dahlia. And so she had insisted that someone sneak into Sire, just to be sure.

  At first, Bree forbid Rowan to go, purely because she was afraid for his safety. However, Rowan and Dagan knew the layout of Sire’s castle. He had to go. It was a surprise when Reeve volunteered to accompany Rowan. But just as Dahlia volunteered because she wanted to prove herself, Bree supposed the same was true for Reeve. Either way, it was a good thing he did, seeing as if Reeve hadn’t been there, Rowan would have had to go in alone once Dagan discovered the barrier.

  “Tell me, since I am curious,” Bree said. “How is it that you can heal Dahlia’s wounds with magic, but not your own?”

  Dagan held up his hand and frowned at it.

  “Unfortunately, wounds caused by magic are a lot more difficult to heal. Had this been a burn from a candle or torch, I could have mended it almost instantly. But since it was magic that caused it, I can’t heal it with traditional magic. I can only use herbs and such.”

  “Interesting… So an injury caused by natural means can be healed with magic, but an injury caused by magic must be healed by natural means.”

  “There are exceptions, but generally, yes. Which is why, from a very young age, we are taught to control our powers. If a wizard attacks someone with magic, they can’t heal them, even if it’s accidental…”

  “Like with your grandmother?”

  “Yes,” Dagan sighed. “Had it been a normal fire, my grandfather may have been able to save her. But since it was wildfire and caused by magic, he couldn’t. It may be fate’s way to balance the scales of people with and without magic. We can only heal each other, so we have reason to need each other. I’ve always considered it to be more ironic than anything else. That is also why women with magical fathers make good healers. They can use both means to heal.”

  “You said there are exceptions?” Bree asked, putting the pieces together in her mind, “You mean the fae. They are the exception. They can heal magic with magic.”

  “They can, yes. Speaking of the fae, I’ve noticed that Rhea has been spending quite a bit of time alone, in her chambers, only leaving for meals.”

  “I’m sure Sid told you about what happened. I feel terrible about it now. I let jealousy overpower my good sense. But I’m not sure how to fix it. We need her as an ally. Without her, I don’t know what we will do if we get attacked by wildfire.”

  “I agree, we need Rhea’s help. And I don’t have a clue as to how to mend things between the two of you, however. Men aren’t usually helpful in matters such as this.”

  “No, you certainly are not.”

  “Well, Queen,” Dagan said, grinning, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “I hope so. And I think you have your own relationship to mend, in the meantime.”

  Dagan stoppe
d outside of the tower door, dreading the person that was waiting on the other side. His father hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to him since last night. Dagan wasn’t sure if he even wanted to talk to him. Edmund had been dead, in Dagan’s mind, for most of his life. The man on the other side of the door was a stranger to him. A ghost of the father he used to know. There was no relationship to mend since there wasn’t a relationship in the first place.

  Dagan opened the door and held it for Bree to enter first, then he followed. Edmund and Sidonie were sitting at the table. Both of them stood when the queen entered the room, but Bree just waved her hand, dismissing the formality, and took a seat next to Sidonie.

  The conversation was short, mostly because no one wanted to ask the questions that they all wanted to ask. Instead, Dagan filled Edmund in on the recent events, like Elric leaving for the Isles, the kidnapping of the Queen Mother, killing of Silas, and now the attacks on Junacave’s allies. Edmund didn’t offer much insight, seeing that he had been imprisoned during all of it, nor did he explain why or how he came to be imprisoned.

  The queen had other matters to attend to, so she left. Sidonie invented an excuse to join her, much to the dismay of Dagan, leaving him alone with his father. Or at least, the man who used to be his father.

  When Dagan stood to leave, Edmund stretched up his arm and held out his amulet. The dark red stone was swaying lightly on the long silver chain.

  “I assume you would like this back?” Edmund asked.

  “Why? It’s your stone. Keep it.”

  “It would be of no use to me,” Edmund replied, pulling the stone up to rub the smooth surface. “The magic has run out.”

  “Just recharge it,” Dagan replied, confused. Edmund shook his head.