by C.K. Bryant
Chapter Fifty Two
When Kira woke, someone had thrown the rope that still held her wrists together up over the rafters, and tied it off on a metal hook near the door. They’d sat her up and leaned her against the wall, giving her enough slack so she could barely rest her elbows at her sides. Her hands hung suspended in front of her face.
She leaned forward, trying to relieve the pressure on her back, but it only drew more attention to the pain as the fresh scabs cracked. Her wrists and shoulders throbbed as they pulled against the rope.
Kira spent the rest of the day sitting in the same place, her eyes burning from the tears she shed. By nightfall she found it more comfortable to stand. At least she could relax her arms and the tension on the rope around her wrists. She was hungry, thirsty, and still too weak to heal her back. “Al, are you still here?” This time her body filled with warmth and Kira’s tears flowed freely. “I wish you could talk to me. I don’t know what to do and I feel so alone.”
Kira shifted her weight to the other foot, then tried to loosen the ropes around her wrists. The knots were too tight to undo with her teeth, but she managed to make them a little more bearable and they weren’t putting pressure on the Crystor anymore. That was her main concern—that’s all Lydia needed was more pain.
For most of the night, she tried contacting Lydia—without response. Kira couldn’t think about what that meant, that the Crystor didn’t work because they were no longer bound—or that Lydia was dead.
When morning came, so did the flies and insects. Toran’s bloody and beaten body was infested with them and the odor of rotting flesh made breathing almost impossible. It didn’t take long for the open cuts on Kira’s back to draw them as well. The only way she could protect her back was to lean against the wall and keep pressure on the tender wounds. The rough and splintered wood dug into her raw flesh, but the pain was better than the alternative.
By the afternoon of the third day, she started to panic. It had been almost two full days since she’d heard any voices or movement from inside the barn. What if they’d left her to die? Kira spent the rest of the day and throughout the night alternating between crying hysterically and numbly staring at nothing.
When the room began to lighten on the morning of the fourth day, she heard faint voices—Shandira barking orders at Zerek. Using the rope to pull herself up, Kira stepped as close to the door as her restraints would allow.
“Somebody!” Her scream was a raspy whisper. She cleared her throat and swallowed. “Please . . . I need . . . water.”
Male voices and quick footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor and approached Kira’s stall. A moment later, the latch slid to the side, but instead of the door opening, she heard a scuffle and a solid thud against the door. Kira jumped back and pulled harder against the rope, but it didn’t budge.
“Did you not hear your orders?” Cael yelled. “You were told to leave her be.”
There was a long pause, followed by Cael’s voice again. “I don’t care if she dies. She is no use to us now. She deserves to rot with the beast for what she did to my brother.”
The uncomfortable silence that followed told Kira it was Nigel on the other side of that door. Why would he go up against Cael to help her?
Kira heard an explosion of fists hitting solid muscle, punctuated by swearing and grunts of exertion. The fight continued, with no suggestion of who held the upper hand—until she heard the cry of a wild cat and knew Cael had transformed. A moment later, there was only silence. Without the ability to transform, Nigel didn’t have a chance.
Kira stared at the red door and smiled, causing her dry, cracked lips to sting. Just my luck, she thought. “Here’s a good one, Al. The door’s unlatched and I could probably sneak out unnoticed . . . if I weren’t tied up.” This time there was no warmth, only a cold chill. “Aaaaah!” She gave one last pull on the rope and slumped back to the floor
The day passed away and Kira had almost talked herself into speeding the process along by winding the rope around her neck—except her death would also mean the end of Altaria. She knew she had to stay alive as long as she could if there was any hope of saving her. If there was any chance at all of returning her spirit to Lydia, Kira couldn’t give up.
The night grew unnaturally calm, warning that a Royal approached. She prepared herself for Cael and the death he would bring her. “I’m sorry Al,” she whispered. Kira turned to face the door, using the last of her strength to raise her chin. He could kill her, but she wouldn’t cower like a mouse when he did.
But it was Nigel who appeared near the door. His right eye was bruised and swollen as was his bottom lip. Kira clumsily stood and backed away, flinching when her back struck the wall behind her.
“What do you want?” she asked, her weak body trembling. “Haven’t you done enough?”
He held a finger to his lips.
Kira shook her head. “No! I’ll scream if you come any closer.”
Nigel retreated, increasing the distance between them. It was then that she noticed something in his outstretched hand—a leather water bag.
Kira lurched forward, grabbed the bag out of his hand, then backed away again. She pulled out the cork and clamped her tender lips over the opening, taking several large gulps before Nigel pulled it away. He shook his head.
“I don’t care if it makes me sick,” Kira whispered. She took a few more swigs, then held it against her chest.
Nigel reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of cloth. He peeled back the corners to reveal a small chunk of cheese and a few grapes. Like a starving child, she grabbed at the morsels and scarfed them down.
“Thank you,” she said after drinking more of the water.
Nigel nodded, reaching for the water bag, which she pulled away again.
“No, I need this.”
Nigel shook his head and pointed to the door.
Kira sighed. “You don’t want them to know you’ve been here.”
He shook his head again.
She took another drink, splashed some of it on her hands and face to wash off the blood and dirt, and handed it back to him. “You’re not gonna take me out of here?”
His brow furrowed in frustration before he glanced back at the door, then disappeared.
Kira’s stomach churned. It had been so long since she’d eaten anything, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it down. Within the hour, she’d lost it. She spent the rest of the night trying to get some sleep with her throbbing back against the wall. Most of the wounds she couldn’t reach because her hands were still tied, but the two near her neck felt swollen and oozed with puss. If starvation didn’t kill her, infection probably would.
At first light, Nigel appeared again with more water and an apple. This time Kira took it slow, hoping to keep it down long enough for her to get some of her strength back. When she returned the water bag, she kept her hands out in front of him.
“Please untie me. I can’t sleep like this and I’m so tired. They’ll never know. They don’t even check on me.”
Nigel shook his head again.
“Then why are you doing this? Why prolong my life by bringing me food and water? Let me die. Better yet, kill me. Take out your knife and slit my throat. I can’t do this anymore, please.” She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. “Please, Nigel. Just end it.”
Nigel pulled away, clenched his fists and paced the floor in front of her. His gaze flicked between the door and her hands. Finally, he stepped to the hook where the rope was secured and yanked it out of the wall. Splintered wood flew to the ground and onto the front of his vest. He brushed it away, threw the rope up over the rafters and loosened the knots with his teeth, releasing her.
“Thank you.” Kira rubbed her swollen wrists and tried to heal them. She couldn’t figure it out—she couldn’t call on even a tingle of healing.
Nigel pointed to the Crystor and to the rope burns.
“I can’t heal them. Something’s wrong—it doesn’t
work.”
He pointed to her back with a questioning expression.
“No, I can’t heal my back either.”
This time he stepped behind her. He gently lifted her hair to the side, pulling several strands loose from the tender scabs. Kira tensed and moaned from the pain. He let her hair drop, hit the wall with his fist and vanished.
Kira didn’t waste any time wondering if he would come back. She reached in her back pocket, retrieved the necklace and held it between her hands.
Octavion, can you hear me? Please answer. I need you.
Kira! Are you all right? Are you hurt?
You’re there. You’re really there. Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed, her fears momentarily washed away with the hope his voice gave her. I’m hurt real bad and the Crystor’s not working. Shandira’s got me locked up. I need help. Please, tell me what to do.
Where are you?
I don’t know. It was dark when she brought me here—it’s an old barn. Kira clumsily stood, stumbled to the door and gave it a yank—but it didn’t budge. Someone had thrown the bolt during the night. She slumped back to the ground, cringing when the muscles in her back tightened across her wounds. Octavion . . . I’m scared.
I know you are, but you have to stay focused. I need you to be strong.
Strong? Kira looked down at the cuts and bruises on her hands and wrists. She’d fought with everything she had and only made things worse. I can’t. There are too many of them. I tried to fight back—I swear I did—but then Zerek beat me with his whip and—
The Darkords are there? Octavion interrupted her thoughts.
Yes, but only Zerek hurt me. Nigel brought me water and food. He’s the only one who’s shown any compassion or remorse for what they’ve done.
There was a long pause before Octavion responded. Kira, I can’t get to you without the journey stone. Have you seen it? Do you know where it is?
Yeah, Shandira’s got it, but she can’t get it to work and I refused to help her.
You have to get it from her. It will work for you. You need to open the portal or I can’t help. There’s no other way.
Kira wiped the tears from her face. I’ll try, but . . .
I know you hurt, but you have to dig deep, find that stubborn streak I love so well. You can do this, Kira. Find the stone. Open the portal.
“Shandira wants her now,” Zerek yelled from outside the door.
They’re coming.
Kira! Get out of there! Get to the stone!
It was all she heard before slipping the pendant and chain back in her pocket.
When the door slid open and Zerek stepped into the room, his eyes were black.
“Can you walk, or shall I drag you?”
Kira pushed herself up to her knees, paused there to gain her balance and slowly straightened to her feet. “I’ll walk.”
