“-to let her out of there!” a familiar voice demanded.
“Dylan!” I cried, pounding against the door.
The argument continued.
“This is outside of our control, brother,” another male voice said, presumably Dylan’s brother, Lord Brendon.
“She’s not a Lodestone, they don’t exist. Brendon, they might kill her!” Dylan shouted.
I froze against the door. Kill me?
“And what should that mean to you?” Brendon barked back. “We’re at war, Dylan, don’t let some pretty little face dampen your wits. Lodestone or not, we have no idea what she is or where she’s from and that is a very dangerous thing in times like these. Hells be damned, where is your head? I leave this in your hands and you make our prisoner a pet.”
“I was going to get her to trust me, then she’d tell me where she’s from,” Dylan insisted. I frowned. Could I trust no one? No, clearly I couldn’t. I felt vastly glad that I didn’t tell him anything.
“And it’s gotten you nowhere. Feed that line to anyone but me, brother. This girl is not some trophy for you, she is a prisoner of war, and if the Commanders want to keep her, they shall. It is their right.”
“She isn’t a trophy for me! How simple do you think I am? I care about this girl and I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove she’s innocent,” he said, defensively. “When she tells me where she’s from, maybe you’ll finally understand that she’s not our enemy.”
My anger with him faded slightly. I didn’t like that he had been trying to manipulate information from me, but I couldn’t be furious with him if he was trying to use it to help me. Still, I felt deceived, and I didn’t like that.
“This isn’t over,” Dylan swore.
“You’re right, it isn’t over. We’ve all spoiled you too much, Dylan, and you’re beginning to embarrass me. I’m growing tired of giving you warnings,” Lord Brendon growled, and the voices grew quieter.
It was silent again for a long time after that.
An attempt to pick open the door proved useless. The longer I searched the room, the worse fits of hyperventilation hit me. I returned to huddle against the door and closed my eyes to calm myself down.
Sleep didn’t provide the swift rescue I’d hoped for. Instead it taunted me, keeping just out of reach. I was pinned awake by my misery and tortured by the regret of my many mistakes. What if Dylan was right? What if they would kill me down here? I’d never see my father again. My little brother would grow up like Lina, never knowing his sibling. My friends would be heartbroken and learn to move on in life without me. I’d never be able to find my mother, and for better or worse, find out exactly why she left my father and me.
I didn’t think it was possible, but my cheeks grew damp beneath my eyes.
* * *
In my dream, I was in my house. Soft rain pattered on the window shutters outside, but inside it was warm, dry, and smelled like the muffins I was baking. Everything was perfect. Ruby and Kyle were bickering and teasing each other in the kitchen. Dad and Mom were in the living room helping Kevin with his first science project. I watched the rain out the hall window while I arranged a vase of sunflowers. A tranquil smile lightened my face. All was how it should be. There was a knock on the door and the rain fell impossibly slow. I looked up from my flowers to see the front door gone, with Rune filling its frame. His arm was rent, swollen and bleeding, his hair and forehead slick with sweat, and his face sallow with fever. His blue eyes pleaded with me to let him in but I backed away, knocking over my vase. The glass shattered on impact, sending shards, flowers and water to the floor with a loud pop.
I woke up gasping and scrambled away to the back corner of my cell, realizing at once that the sound of my vase shattering was actually the lock on my door being opened.
Jamming myself in a corner, I wrapped my arms around my waist and shuddered at the cold. My breath was a puff of smoke in the dim light that seeped into the room from the opening door. Had it always been this cold? Wondering how I’d slept in this frigid air was the least of my concerns; my attention was sharply focused on who was coming into my cell.
Just like in my dream, it was Rune who stood in the doorway, only instead of being wounded and near death, he was healthy, armored, and his blue eyes were clear and keen. In his arms he carried a thick cloth bundle.
I stared at him, too exhausted for words.
He looked cautiously behind him and quietly closed the door. I watched him untrustingly with eyes that were bloodshot from crying.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“No you’re not,” I retorted angrily through chattering teeth.
He didn’t say it twice and I chose to believe that I was right.
“I brought this for you,” Rune said, placing the bundle in the center of the room.
“Is this where you try to buy my trust with gifts?” I asked, glaring openly at him.
“I didn’t buy anything,” he said levelly. “It belongs to me.”
And without another word, he left, locking the door behind him.
No games, no questions, just the bundle on the floor. I had grown accustomed to Dylan’s tradeoffs and didn’t know what to make of this. Rune brought me to the cell himself. He wasn’t on my side. I figured his doing this was a part of some larger scheme, or if not, then perhaps to ease a guilty conscience.
Remaining in the corner and shaking with cold, I stared at the object in the center of the room until my curiosity prevailed.
Upon inspection, the bundle turned out to be a thick blanket, lined with wool. I was too cold to turn away a blanket out of pride.
I unrolled it, pulled it into my corner and burrowed as deeply into it as I could, covering myself head to toe. The difference in temperature was almost immediate. There was a scent to it too, like sandalwood with a vague hint of cinnamon. I inhaled deeply, grateful for each breath that warmed the inside of the blanket.
There were some tattered, dirty rags on the floor, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to use them out of desperation. They were too thin and old to be warm and too oily to be comfortable. Rune’s blanket was a vast improvement, and soon I stopped shivering.
When I fell asleep again, I didn’t dream.
Chapter 22: Lodestone
I awoke peacefully because I couldn’t remember where I was. The sight of my dank cell shocked me into another frenzied search for windows or any connection to the outside. The stained walls felt like they were pressing in on me. I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to block them out. Blearily, I recalled what had brought me to the confines of my prison. No memory comforted me and no thought consoled me. I was cornered, trapped and abandoned.
I began to hyperventilate.
No one came to my rescue. Not a single person checked to see if I was okay. It was just me and the cold dark room. I shrank back within the warm oversized blanket and pulled the thick fabric tightly against me. The scent of it was soothing. It was all I had.
When I stopped to think, I realized that Dylan’s goggles and the scarf made by Rune’s mother were still in my possession. That brought me some relief.
By the time my door opened again, my hunger and thirst were unbearable. The Dragoon in the doorway was a stranger. She was tall, brown haired, and emanated an air of calm.
“Who are you?” I asked, sitting wrapped in the blanket with my back against the far wall.
“That is of no consequence,” she answered, scrutinizing me through squinted eyes. “That is a Dragoon standard issue item. Where did you get it?”
For a moment I was lost at her meaning, then I remembered the blanket.
“That is of no consequence,” I answered back. She quirked a brow at me, but the motion was slight.
“The Commanders desire your presence. If you’ll follow me,” she said, standing beside the door.
There was nothing I could do but go with her. Any chance to leave my cell was welcome, even if that meant seeing the hideous faces of the Commanders.
The moment we began ascending the steps that led up and out of the lower dungeons, I felt relief. I shied away from the brighter light of the second story corridors. Archer windows broke through the walls like many sculpted and shining cracks. I felt the constriction of claustrophobia lessen significantly and when a touch of breeze met me, I exhaled away some of my discomfort.
I caught my Dragoon guide watching me from the corner of her eye.
“It feels good to breathe fresh air again,” I said, feeling awkward about her attention to me.
She made no response.
We passed other Dragoons going to and from their duties within the fortress. None of them paid us any notice. The second floor was no different from the first. In fact, if it wasn’t cleaner it would have reminded me very much of the dungeons below.
I was led through a doorway guarded by two Dragoons with hooked pole arms and dark copper rifles. The Commanders were awaiting me within.
They each stood silhouetted before two tall windows with wrought iron screens. There was a long, ebony, wood table in front of them and several items were laid out upon it. The room had two black chandeliers, two bookshelves and two round tables at either end, but was otherwise empty.
My guide brought me to stand in the center of the room, and when my eyes had adjusted to the bright daylight pooling into it, I saw that my original clothes and belongings were the things displayed on the table.
“Ah, and here she is!” said Senior Commander Fallux. I could see the glints of metal protruding from his face, but not very well, since the light was coming in from behind him.
Like the prickle on the back of your neck when you sense someone watching you, I could keenly feel the vicious energy radiating from Junior Commander Stakes.
How could I not have been afraid? I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. Hunger gnawed at my stomach and thirst dried my throat.
“I am told your name is Katelyn,” the Senior Commander said with what seemed to me like trivial politeness. “How fascinating to meet you. Most would assume the Lodestones a myth after all this time. In fact, that story is precisely the reason Prince Raserion installed this very station. Oh, the bay is a decent military foothold, if slightly remote. But I digress. What care you for history and stratagem? You are a Lodestone and you are here. These are your belongings, yes?”
“You know that they are,” came my raspy answer. Speaking made my throat even dryer.
Each article of my former clothing was laid out beside the next, all the way down to my satchel, its meager contents, and Rune’s cracked lantern.
“Good,” he said appraisingly. “The clothes are of a very unusual make. The material is similar to our own but the stitching is unique. Tell me, Katelyn, where did you come from?”
“Breakwater,” I answered, crossing my arms protectively over myself.
“We all know that is untrue,” Commander Fallux said shrewdly.
“Oh yeah? Where did you apprehend me then?” I said, trying my best to sound confidently snide.
“Don’t play trivial games with me!” Senior Commander shouted, slamming a hand down on the table of my belongings.
I jumped and struggled to appear unfazed by the outburst.
“I d-don’t know why I should tell you anything,” I stammered honestly.
“Little girl,” Fallux said as sweetly as his grizzly voice would allow. “You are our guest.”
“Is that what I am?” I scoffed.
“You are a Lodestone. It is evident by the color of your eyes. Your stay in the dungeons was a test and it will not be the last. I am a patient man and I always get what I want. You will tell me everything I wish to know, in a matter of time.”
“I hope you choose not to tell us voluntarily,” Commander Stakes said, speaking for the first time. I could barely make out a wicked smile that ripped across his face.
“Commander Stakes, be sure to document that the Lodestone has neither The Shift or The Soothe,” Senior Commander Fallux ordered.
“Sir,” Commander Stakes responded, bowing slightly.
“You seem uncomfortable below ground,” Fallux said, and his observation went unanswered by me. “Perhaps you’d prefer somewhere more lofty. The tower? Yes, I believe that will do for now. March, see that her keep is transferred to the conservatory tower.”
The lady Dragoon bowed briskly.
“Listen,” I said, gathering my courage. “I don’t know who you think I am, b-but I’m not your Lodestone. I’m not special, I’m just a girl. I’d like to leave.”
Commander Stakes chuckled slowly and the Senior Commander did what I least wanted. He walked around the table toward me. I could see the look of amusement on his metal-shredded face. I winced when he stood close enough to touch me.
He removed the glove of his right hand, revealing a twisted skeletal metal claw. Bits of his palm and the undersides of his fingers retained their flesh. He clasped my chin and forced me to look up at him like we had when we’d first met. I writhed inwardly in disgust at the contact. His skin was clammy and the metal cold where it touched my skin.
“Look at those beautiful silver eyes,” he said and I was helpless to avoid staring at the two crescent fangs on one side of his mouth. “So many secrets. We will discover your Abilities, just as we will discover your origin, Lodestone.”
He released me and I jerked away from his grip.
The cave wall said, “DON’T LET THEM IN.” In that moment I knew exactly whom the wall was referring to. Whatever they were after, whatever they wanted from me, it couldn’t be good. I had to protect my home. I could never let the Commanders find the way in.
“I don’t have Abilities,” I said, steering away from the subject of Haven.
“On the contrary,” he said pacing away and looking back at me. “You have several. We will discover them all.”
“One by one,” Commander Stakes agreed wickedly.
“But first,” Fallux said, turning on his heel. “Kindly accompany us to a meeting will you? Your attendance is required. We can’t be expected to keep you all to ourselves can we?”
“I say we can,” Stakes growled under his breath. I dared not meet his eyes. Even though his face was much less marred by metal, a wildly homicidal feeling radiated from him.
The Commanders brought me to another door just down the hall. It opened to a room filled with about thirty people seated in rows. Every single one of them turned to look at me, some of them craning their necks for a better view. To say I felt uncomfortable would have been an understatement. I was sent to sit in a lone chair upon a small circular dais to one side of the room, while the Commanders stood by. A row of six Dragoons walked in formation and took their places to one side, just beyond my dais. I spied Rune standing at attention among them.
When I saw him, I inhaled and considered that I may never breathe again. How did I feel? Conflicted. Everything about him and our interaction together from the beginning confused me. The siege of opposition that faced me clouded my thoughts of Rune. I was starving, thirsty, stressed, afraid, exhausted, and part of me was furious with him for standing by while all of this happened to me. But his face was the only familiar one and I was drawn to it. Each time I saw him blink or notice his chest move with breath, it reminded me that he was human. He didn’t choose his life. If he rebelled, his family would pay the consequences. I thought about all of these things in the span of a single moment. His blue eyes flicked to mine and away again, but only once.
The murmuring of the crowd was something I didn’t notice until it stopped. Senior Commander Fallux’s gloved hand needed only to rise a bit for everyone to close their mouths and pay attention.
“Greetings gentlemen and ladies,” Senior Commander Fallux said. I understood the emphasis: he was politely reminding the group that he and his Dragoons had powerful Abilities and they did not.
“As we discussed,” Fallux went on. “I have brought forward the Lodestone for you to see.”
The
re was a loud crack at the entrance of the room as the doors swung back on their hinges and hit the wall. A young man with blonde hair and exquisitely tailored clothing strode purposefully through them. Even at a distance, I knew it was Dylan.
A pair of Dragoons moved to intercept him but he pushed past them.
“I am a Lord Axton. It is my duty and right to be here, now stand aside,” Dylan said to the soldiers as though they were impertinent servants. He walked haughtily onward and for once, the attention of the room was removed from me. “Apologies, Commanders and good folk, for my tardiness and intrusion. If you’d like to roast any fowl for this interruption, let it be my brother for skillfully withholding any knowledge of this meeting from me.”
“That will be enough, Dylan,” Brendon said from his seat in the front row. How could I have not noticed him sooner? He was dressed a bit more casually than Dylan and was seated in the center of a row of ornately robed elders. There was a set to his strong jaw and low brow that convinced me of his quiet anger.
“Thank you, my dear brother. If not for your little challenges, I might yawn my way through life,” Dylan said picking his way through the rows of seats in search of an empty one. The room’s dead silence told me that he was making quite a spectacle.
I looked carefully at the Commanders, not knowing how they would respond to Dylan’s very vocal commotion. There was no change in expression that I could see. They looked as patient as an adult tolerating a child. Lord Brendon on the other hand, was positively smoldering.
Dylan took a seat in the center of the group. When he realized I was looking at him, he winked at me, but there was no cheer in his face.
If Dylan wasn’t invited to this meeting, then it meant that Brendon believed that he wasn’t acting in the interest of the war. Whose side was he on: mine, his own, or Brendon’s? The latter wasn’t likely. Nothing was clear, but I felt like he really was trying to help me. The one thing I knew for certain was that he’d pissed off some important people by barging in the way he did.
Haven (War of the Princes) Page 15
