Broken Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 3)

by Kara Jaynes

  Aaric hurriedly rummaged through his rucksack and placed several explosives throughout the room. They were powerful, strong enough to demolish the entire building. He would have to be on the ground level and running out the door before setting them off. He grinned without humor as he set the last explosive under the chair the older man had been sitting in.

  He surveyed the room with a look of satisfaction, then turned to leave, and found himself face to face with Kingsley.

  37

  Bran

  The streets were bedlam. It was obvious the Oppressors had not expected an attack from the nomads. Guards, armed with muskets and sabers defended against the nomads fiercely, managing to collar a few of them. Most of the Oppressors ran and hid. Nomad fought nomad with magic, one always wearing a collar, their masters forcing them to fight.

  Bran sent magic into the earth, causing the ground to explode under the Oppressors feet, or to give way, burying them under mountains of dirt. His face hurt from the snarl that was perpetually on his face. A bullet embedded itself into a post not a foot away from him. Bran turned and sent a bolt of magic into his attacker, ending his life.

  Running around a corner, Bran saw an odd scene unfolding. A nomad slave was on his hands and knees, head down. An Oppressor stood over him.

  “Get up,” the Oppressor shouted. “Get up, Bertram, and protect my family, curse you!”

  The nomad shook his head, breathing heavily. He was covered in sweat. The collar around his neck crackled and hummed. “I will not,” he panted. “I cannot harm my people.”

  “You can and you will,” the Oppressor shouted. “I command you, Bertram. Now.”

  At the moment Bran stepped forward to aid the fallen magic user, the collar shuddered. Bertram cried out, and the collar went silent. The Oppressor gasped, pushing a switch on his brace. Nothing happened. His eyes grew in alarm and he took a step back.

  Bertram put a shaking hand to his throat, wonder in his gaze as he stood to face his master. “You have no power,” he said.

  The Oppressor cringed away from him. “Bertram, protect my family.” It sounded more like a plea than an order.

  Bertram shook his head. “I need to protect my own.” Turning his back to the man, his eyes met Bran’s for a moment. Bran didn’t recognize the nomad, so he must’ve been from a different clan. Bertram recognized another nomad, however, and nodded his head in acknowledgment before he ran down the street and around a corner

  “Bran!” Adaryn came running from the opposite direction, not even glancing in the direction of the Oppressor who scuttled into a nearby shop. “Aaric did it. He shut down the Tower.” She flung a hand in the direction of the northern gates. “He’s setting up explosives as we speak. You need to get the slaves out.”

  “Right.” Bran ran down the street, where Bertram had run. “To me!” he roared. “To me! Nomads, to the forests!”

  Slaves everywhere were beginning to realize they were free. They ran everywhere, laughing, crying, some took part in the fighting, others simply ran. A woman, tears running down her cheeks, ran toward the gates, a young child in her arms. Both wore collars.

  “To the forests!” Others took up the call, running toward the gates, some torching buildings with their magic as they ran.

  Adaryn tugged on Bran’s arm. “I’m going back for Aaric.”

  “No,” Bran motioned in the direction of the gates. “I’ll find him and make sure he gets out.” He turned and ran in the opposite direction, toward the Tower, Adaryn trailing him. “Go find your father,” he yelled. “You’re in danger here.”

  “No!” Adaryn shouted back. “I need Aaric.”

  Bran didn’t waste time trying to persuade her. She’d made her decision.

  Together they ran through the crowded streets, to the heart of Ruis.

  38

  Aaric

  “Where is Adaryn?” The light in Kingsley’s eyes bordered on madness. He took a threatening step toward Aaric. Several men stood behind him, but Aaric’s eyes were locked on the furious magistrate. Kingsley held a gun, and pointed it in a hand shaking with rage at Aaric’s heart.

  “Where is she? Curse you for a fool, Aaric.” He took another step forward, causing Aaric to instinctively take a step back before he could catch himself. But Adaryn was safe from Kingsley, and that was all that mattered to him. He sneered at the magistrate.

  “She’s gone, Kingsley. You’ll never see her again.” It felt good to throw Kingsley’s past words back at him.

  “You could have had it all, Aaric.” Kingsley talked as if Aaric hadn’t spoken. “You had your father’s money, your growing reputation, and you threw it all away, and for what? A slave.”

  “Not a slave.” Aaric’s voice went cold with anger. “A girl, Kingsley. A woman. A human. Someone with value, with a soul. She should’ve never been subjected to such humiliation, and I pray that the heavens will forgive my wrongdoing. Adaryn was never meant to be enslaved.”

  “She’s mine.” The rage in Kingsley gaze was white-hot, his face twisted. “I will get her back, and destroy her for her disgraceful behavior. She’s a rover, Aaric!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, someone stirred. Aaric’s eyes flicked over to her for a fraction of a second. A young woman with long, fiery red hair, looking submissively at the floor. Ember. So she’d come, too.

  “You know the Tower’s energy has been shut down, Ember,” Aaric said, keeping his eyes on Kingsley. “And I’ve set explosives all over this room.” He lifted the controller. “You need to go before I set it off. Kingsley can no longer stop you.”

  Kingsley barked a harsh laugh. “She won’t leave me. She’s a shadow of her former self, Aaric. She has no will of her own left.”

  Aaric let his mind drift back to Adaryn. His dear spitfire Adaryn. There was only one way to keep her safe from Kingsley. He’d never see her again, but it was a small price to pay. His life for hers. He lifted the small controller, and smiled sadly at Kingsley.

  “Ruis will adapt without slaves, the nomads will be free, and Adaryn will be safe, but not until you’re gone. I had hoped to see her one last time—” Ember’s head snapped up to stare at him “—but sacrifices must be made.”

  Aaric took a deep breath—goodbye, Adaryn—and flipped the small switch on the device.

  He saw a flash of red, and the Tower was ripped apart.

  39

  Adaryn

  I froze mid-stride, horrified at the nightmare that unfolded before me. The Tower exploded, brick and stone flying everywhere. Fire blossomed, consuming the twisted, skeletal structure that was standing, until that too, started to collapse.

  Bran had halted as well, his eyes wide with shock. We were standing several hundred yards away, far away enough to be clear of the falling debris, but close enough to see no one had escaped.

  Aaric.

  “No!” The word ripped out of me in a shriek, and I ran forward.

  Bran tried to hold me back—“It’s too dangerous!”—but when he grabbed me by the arm, I summoned the magic, throwing up a barrier between us. He staggered backward and I continued my sprint toward the collapsed structure.

  “Aaric!” I screamed, scrambling over burnt and twisted debris, not caring I was getting scratched and burned. I had to find him. He had to be safe. I found nothing.

  The remaining portions of the Tower shuddered and groaned. I drew on the magic, feeling my strength weaken as I did so. I still hadn’t recovered from my ordeal. I didn’t care. I used the magic to blast rock and brick, searching.

  There. Aaric’s body, huddled under some smoking timbers. I ran over to move them, and my magic shivered and winked out. I was too exhausted. Unsuccessfully, I tried to move the timbers with my bare hands, my fingers pierced with rough, wooden splinters. Then Bran was there, heaving them off Aaric’s body. I knelt down and gently wrapped my arms around him, my body shaking with sobs. What happened? Why didn’t he get out? Something must have gone terribly wrong.

  “You said yo
u’d come back to me,” I hiccuped through my tears. Grief threatened to swallow me whole. “You said you’d be fine. Why, Aaric?”

  My heart skipped a beat when I felt arms go around me. I looked intently at his face through my tears. Aaric’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled weakly. “I am fine, Adaryn. I—” he coughed hoarsely, “—I just need to rest. I’m very tired.”

  “You’re all right?” I pulled away from the embrace in my shock. “Why didn’t you get out?” I would have smacked him if I wasn’t so relieved by his survival.

  Aaric grimaced. “Kingsley.”

  My breathing quickened as I surveyed the wreckage. Was he still alive too?

  “He didn’t make it, Adaryn,” Aaric said softly. “No one in the Tower did.”

  “How did you?” It was unfathomable that someone could have survived.

  Aaric coughed again. Bran crouched down and handed me a canteen of water. I carefully held it to Aaric’s lips. He tried to drink, but coughed and spluttered worse than before. He pushed it away.

  “It was Ember,” he said softly. “She protected me with her magic.” His eyes clouded, thinking back. “I don’t know how she did it, but the magic surrounded me when the explosions went off.”

  “A Protective Circle,” Bran spoke up. “She wove air around you and sealed it with fire.” There was admiration in his voice. “That was quick thinking on her part.”

  “But she didn’t weave, as you say, around herself as well.” Puzzlement showed through his exhaustion. There were smudges of soot on his nose and forehead.

  “It’s particularly draining on one’s magic,” Bran explained. “She probably only had enough strength to use it on you.”

  Aaric looked aghast. “Why didn’t she save herself?” He let his head fall back wearily, guilt on his face.

  Bran shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know the answer. A memory flickered in my mind. Myself, laying on the floor, locked away in Kingsley’s house. Ember, crouched over me. I hope that I may someday earn your forgiveness. . .

  I lay my head on Aaric’s chest, tears trickling down my face. Goodbye, Ember.

  40

  Adaryn

  “Are you sure that’s everything?” Aaric looked at the small bundle tied behind my horse’s saddle.

  I nodded. “I don’t have much.” I looked at Aaric’s horse. The poor beast was laden with more than it would probably like. Most of his possessions were bags of books, scrolls, manuscripts, and ink bottles. I bit my lip and turned away before Aaric could see my amused smile. We’d stopped at his home in Ruis so he could gather ‘only the absolute essentials.’ Those ‘essentials’ just happened to be almost half his study. He protested vehemently when Bran suggested he leave the books.

  Bran walked up to me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Kingsley is dead. You’re safe now.”

  I nodded, my heart clenching in fear at the mention of the magistrate. Kingsley still haunted my dreams. “I need this, Bran. Ruis holds too many . . . memories, for me.”

  He nodded, his eyes sad as he looked down at me. “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. Not Sen Altare.” That city held too many memories as well, and the stigma against nomads was alive and well, though not as bad as Ruis.

  Aaric walked up and heard the tail end of our conversation. “I’ve been reading,” he said, and frowned when Bran and I tried to smother our laughs. “You know, the two of you could stand to do some reading. Gain an education and all that.”

  Bran smoothed his features, but the corners of his lips still twitched. “Undoubtedly.”

  Aaric harrumphed loudly, but continued. “As I was saying, I’ve been reading, and there are said to be cities beyond the mountains.”

  Bran and I exchanged looks, confused. The clans never traveled the mountains, as far as I knew. But if Aaric wanted to travel there, I had no objections to it, as long as I was with him.

  “Do you plan to move on?” I asked Bran.

  He nodded. “We will go south, toward Sen Altare. Maybe to the Tyrko Ruins. I’m still undecided.” His face took on a disgruntled look and I could understand why. The nomad clans still hadn’t dispersed, staying close to Bran. He was very powerful, especially with the sky jewel, and a natural born leader. The nomad clans seemed to gravitate toward him, and he now found himself leader of a gigantic group of people. He didn’t like it, but wouldn’t shirk what he saw as his duty.

  Aaric looked at the sun. It was nearly mid-morning. “Time to be on road,” he said brightly.

  Bran tried one last time. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until spring?” he asked. “It’s fall. You might get stuck in the mountains come winter.”

  He stopped, seeing my arched eyebrows. He knew as well as I that any nomad worth their salt could survive a mountain’s winter. He wrapped me in a big bear hug, his eyes looking watery. “Stay safe, Adaryn.”

  The goodbyes I made with my father and younger brothers were emotional, to say the least, and it was almost a relief to get on the road.

  The air was warm, but the wind had a crispness to it that spoke of colder days to come. The leaves were a glorious tapestry of red, gold, and orange.

  We rode in silence for a while, then Aaric spoke up. “Don’t get me wrong, a nomad marriage ceremony is fine, but I don’t understand parts of it. Why did we have to jump over a broom? And while I certainly didn’t mind throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you to our tent, I don’t understand why—” I smiled to myself, listening to him ask questions. My husband wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew the answer to every question there ever was. How many cities were beyond the mountains? Why did no one cross them? Were there other magic users? What inventions had been created? Did every nomad wield magic? What about nomad children whose father was an Oppressor? I blushed at the last thought. Aaric rode his horse closer to me. I realized he’d stopped talking, and was simply smiling, his gaze soft. “I love you, Adaryn.”

  “I love you, too.” And I did. So much. We rode together in comfortable silence, our thoughts dwelling on a future that included both of us, together.

  Thank you for reading my book, Broken Enchantment. I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider leaving a review on Amazon.

  http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Enchantment-Unbreakable-Force-Book-ebook/dp/B00U0LSWO0/

  Sneak Peek of Book 4 in the Unbreakable Force series by Kara Jaynes

  1

  Bran

  “Let’s run away together.” Grace Flores lay on her back, next to Bran. The two of them were in the Flores attic, a dusty room filled with old relics from her family’s past. She passed him another apple, filched from the kitchens. “Like Aaric and Adaryn.”

  Bran snorted. “Your father would kill me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what Father thinks.” Grace’s voice took on a frosty edge. “I’m from Ruis, remember? Women here don’t have to ask permission for marriage.”

  Bran sighed regretfully, biting into the crisp apple. Eloping with Grace did sound tempting. With relations strained between their people, the two of them had resorted to planned, secret meetings together. If they were found out, it would only add fuel to the smoldering flames of potential war. “We can’t, Grace. You have your people to take care of, and I have mine.”

  “Hang the people,” Grace muttered under her breath.

  Bran grinned at her. He loved her temper. “Give it time, Grace.” He shifted so he was lying on his side and kissed her cheek, taking her slim hand in his. “Perhaps the people of Ruis and the nomads can come to some kind of treaty.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Grace grumbled, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “We’re talking about Ruis, Bran. Slavery has been part of our ways for generations. How can that change?”

  “You changed,” Bran protested. “Aaric did too.”

  “That’s true,” Grace conceded.

  She sighed and gestured with her free hand to take in their surroundings. “We’re like children. Hid
ing in attics, meeting in secret at the market. Mother is going to get suspicious, you know.”

  “We’ll just have to be more careful.”

  “I’ve been turning away suitors. That isn’t like me at all.” She narrowed her eyes at him in mock suspicion. “Have you cast a spell on me?”

  Bran laughed. “Maybe.” His lips brushed hers. “Be patient, Grace. We’ll figure something out.”

  He stood, brushing dust from his trousers and strode over to the large window he’d come through. They’d been in the attic for over an hour and it was now dusk. He pushed open the windowpane.

  “You know if you moved up here we could see each other more often.” Grace sat up, smoothing her skirt. “I could sneak up apples and pastries.”

  Bran chuckled, summoning a thin thread of magic, and fastened it to an old bedpost like rope. “Would you empty my chamber pot, too?”

  Grace made a face, folding her arms. “Not a chance.”

  “Let’s meet in the marketplace a week from now.” Bran walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

  “All right,” Grace sighed, laying her head on his chest. “But consider my plan about running away. I think Sen Altare would do nicely for us. Aunt Luna would definitely let us stay with her until we could figure things out.”

  Bran cupped her chin in his hand, pulling it up until she looked at him. “In one week, Grace.” He brought his mouth to hers, breathing in her scent. She smelled like floral soap. “I’ll be near the old crone selling turnips.”