“I believe his mind has been tampered with, same as mine.”
A thread of life struggled up from the maw. Redeem yourself. Show that you have not changed. You are not chained to what Valin did to you. Go with Rory. Heal the herald.
Rowen held up her hand and stared at the metal glove encased around her mark. Perhaps saving someone would heal the maw, or at least assuage it. She took a life. Now it was time to give one back. To undo the hurt Valin had brought upon these people.
“Yes. I will help him.”
Rory’s face relaxed. “Good. I’ve been watching him. He seems to be a personal servant of Valin. There are times he is alone, usually in the evening before sundown.”
A thought darkened her mind. “If I free Regessus, Valin will know. I will no longer have the freedom I have now.”
Rory nodded. “Yes, I thought about that. We will only have a short amount of time after we free Regessus to free Cragsmoor.”
“Cragsmoor?”
“Yes. There are still prisoners in the Thyrian fortress.”
Prisoners. A sick wave flowed through her body. She leaned and grabbed the table for support. “And they are not twisted?”
“No. I believe they are kept there for other reasons.”
She saw the prisoner again from yesterday, his thin, frail body and threadbare clothes. She heard his voice, his plea, and—
“Are you all right?”
She bobbed her head and swallowed the bile in her throat. Never would she let Valin do that to her again. “Yes. It’s just a lot to plan, to think through.”
“I wish we had more time, but with each day that passes, more prisoners are taken.”
“You’re right.” If there were no prisoners, then there would be no people for Valin or Malchus to consume.
“I would do it myself, but I do not have the . . . power you do.” Rory hesitated on the word ‘power’. “I cannot free these people, not without your help. I know I’m asking a lot. But maybe you can leave with us. Leave Thyra.”
Rowen paused. Could she leave? Was she simply here to rescue the few people left in Thyra? “But what about the other mind-twisted people?”
“We can come back for them. Sneak back into the city. Eventually with your help, we can free everyone.”
But would that stop Valin or Malchus? She doubted their only goal was Thyra. Still, it was something. Freeing the people here in Thyra would certainly slow them down.
“All right.” Rowen stood up. “I’ll do it.”
•••
Rowen stood in front of Regessus and looked down the hall. No one. She looked the other way. Empty. He continued to stare through her.
They were inside the building behind the senate tower, the place where the Thyrian senators would hold individual conferences and conduct business. It was just as flamboyant as the tower room above, with white marble floors polished until her image shone across the surface, paintings framed in ornate gold casings, tables and chairs made from rich mahogany. Dust covered the furniture and frames. The building was completely silent.
“I can’t believe they did that to the senator.” Rory’s voice echoed down the hallway.
Rowen glanced at him. “They twisted you, why not him?” And if Valin could do that to a human, could she? Could she twist—?
Don’t think about it.
She placed her palm on Regessus’ neck. His skin was warm, living. Living dead. Heat pooled inside her chest. She kept her gaze on his face. “Come on.”
The heat grew into an inferno, sucking the air from her lungs. She curved her hand around his neck, forcing the heat from her chest and down her arm. The heat swirled inside her palm, but stayed there, blocked by the metal between her mark and his skin. She closed her eyes and imagined the heat in her palm as a fire, burning, swirling, just behind the metal. Then she imagined her blood as water, pushing toward her palm. Harder. Harder. Push the fire past the metal.
Her hair began to whip around her face. Her face grew hot and a trickle of sweat ran down her temple.
She thought of Valin and grit her teeth. You . . . will not . . . have him!
Her power broke past the metal and entered Regessus.
With a gasp, Rowen sank into his mind. Images flashed across her vision, faster, each one burning up in the flames of her truthsaying power. The false images Valin had forced into his mind crumbled.
Regessus, come back. Come back from the darkness.
Fewer images burned. Instead, they morphed to his real memories. She watched his life, a blur of color and shapes and sound. Regessus, a young man. Regessus courting a woman. Regessus, a servant of the court. Regessus, a senator. This was his life, his true life. The good, the bad. The darkness and the light. She exposed it all.
Regessus, see who you are, who you fully are.
Far away, something moved beneath her hand.
Come back.
She started to pull away from the plane of his mind. Find the light.
The hall came rushing back. Rowen dropped her hand and fell to her knees. Her palms hit the marble, her metal glove clanking. She gulped in air, her face hot and sweaty.
Regessus sagged against the wall. “What happened? Where am I?” He placed a hand on his head. “I feel . . . terrible.”
“It’s all right, senator.” Rory came to his side and helped him up. “We freed you. Actually, she freed you. Your mind was twisted by Valin.”
There was a pause. “That traitor.” Regessus hissed through his teeth. “That vile, evil—!” He broke into a long cough.
“We’re going to get you out of here.”
“No.” He held up his hand and coughed again.
Rowen looked up.
He finished coughing and saw Rowen. He paused, his hand hovering near his mouth. “Are you the one who freed me?”
“Yes.” She used the wall and pulled herself up. Rory came to her other side and aided her.
“How did you free me?”
She leaned against the wall and held up her hand. Light still beamed between the metal links.
“My Word.” His eyes went wide. “An Eldaran.”
She lowered her hand. “You know what I am?”
“Yes.” Regessus coughed again. “Before I was captured again, there was a father from the Thyrian Monastery who claimed there were still those among the Lands who could free us.”
Rory scratched his neck. “Captured again?”
“Yes. I escaped the initial purge of Thyra. But I came back weeks later, hoping to free those still in Cragsmoor. Valin caught me.” Regessus went still, his mind seeming to be somewhere else. He shook his head. “Anyway. Father Reth claimed the only ones who could free us from the Shadonae were the Eldarans. No one really believed him, most of all Cargan, our leader. But Father Reth finally convinced him.” He tilted his head. “Was Father Reth the one that found you?”
Rowen shook her head. “No.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
She glanced down the hall. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time to explain. A scribe named Nierne found me, in Avonai.”
“Avonai? But that’s so far away.”
“Yes.” They needed to go. Valin or Malchus could show up any moment. And Valin would be most unhappy to find that she had freed his prized human.
“So how did you get here?”
“I was taken in Azar and brought here.”
“In Azar? But you just said you were in Avon—”
“Sorry, senator, but we need to go.”
Regessus grimaced. “By the Lands, how far does the Shadonae’s power stretch?”
Rowen ignored his question, her mind already away from the conversation. The hallway to the right would lead them to the back door and alley. They could use that to reach the eastern gate.
“Senat
or, how well do you think you can walk?”
Regessus was silent for a moment. “My body seems fine. My mind was the only thing Valin twisted.”
“So you think you could make it to the eastern gate?”
“Yes. But what about the others?”
“Others?”
“Yes, those still in Cragsmoor.”
“We already have plans to free them,” Rory said. “But we want to get you to safety first.”
“No.” Regessus waved his hand. “The prisoners there are the reason I came back. I’m not going without them. I owe it to those people. I was one of those who helped the Shadonae rise to power.”
What did he mean? She opened her mouth to say more, but stopped. They were running out of time. “All right.” She motioned to Rory. “Lead us to Cragsmoor. But we need to hurry. The sun is setting, which leaves us very little light to escape by.”
Rory nodded. “I’ll lead the way.” He started off down the hall.
Rowen followed with Regessus at her side. Her stomach was a tight knot inside her middle. Everything that could possibly go wrong flashed across her mind, each image reinforcing the thought that there was no way they could pull off this rescue.
“Word, help us.”
Chapter
25
Rory led Rowen and Regessus across Thyra to Cragsmoor. By now the sky had turned to shades of grey and a dull purple as the sun set. The air had grown colder since they had first left the house that afternoon, and the scent of rain hung in the air.
Rowen pulled her wrap tighter across her shoulders. Rory’s boots clopped against the cobblestone. A wind stirred up the bits of rubbish and leaves that lined the sides of the buildings.
After a couple blocks, she spotted the fortress, the same place she had found Rory.
Cragsmoor looked as intimidating as ever in the twilight, with high stone walls almost black in the dusky light, tiny barred windows, and a dark muddy courtyard from the last few days of rain. A single torch blazed beside the door.
The three of them looked around, then quietly stepped off the street into the courtyard. Rowen lifted her dress and her feet sank in the mud. The mud clung to her boots, making each step a task. A full moon rose above the outer wall, a pale disc of light.
By the light of the torch and moon they made their way to the door. There was no sound, other than the small squelching noise when they lifted their feet from the mud. The flame from the torch was the only warm-looking thing around Cragsmoor.
Rory reached the door first and pulled out a set of keys. The keys jingled as he placed one in the lock. He turned the key and the lock clicked. He pushed the door open.
There was no light inside, only darkness. Without saying a word, Rory took the torch from its hook and went inside.
Regessus caught her eye and motioned for her to follow. Rowen nodded and entered the dark fortress. He brought up the rear.
A chill filled the narrow hall. She shivered and pulled her wrap close again. The light from the torch bounced along the dark walls. Every thirty feet, on either side of the hall, was a thick wooden door with a small, barred window. Rowen glanced in one and saw nothing.
“There is nothing there.”
Rowen jumped and turned.
Regessus pointed to the door they had just passed. “The people who were once in these cells are now gone. Either they escaped, were twisted, or consumed.”
Consumed.
Nausea filled her middle. An apt word for what Valin made her do to that prisoner yesterday.
At the end of the hall was a set of stairs leading down. Rowen followed Rory, their boots clapping against the stone floor. The sickness grew inside her and she pressed a hand against her middle.
A foul smell came wafting up the stairs. She gagged and covered her nose and mouth.
A hand tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. Regessus held out a square piece of linen. She took it and gave him a weak smile, then clutched the linen to her mouth. Not here, not now!
Regessus rubbed her shoulders as she panted.
Rowen closed her eyes. He had no idea what she was, what she had done! If he did, he wouldn’t be touching her now.
As if beckoned, the dark hunger awoke inside her. She clutched the linen.
“Just take your time,” Regessus said.
Rowen turned away. Word, I don’t know if you are here with me, or can hear me. Please don’t let this darkness overtake me.
Seconds ticked by. The hunger dimmed. She would never do that again. She would rather die than consume another human being.
Fingers rubbed her shoulders again. She straightened and took a deep breath, and inhaled the foul smell. “What is that?”
Rory’s face turned hard in the torchlight. “It’s the smell of those who are here to die.”
Regessus dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Not if we can help it. We all escape tonight or we don’t escape at all.”
Yes. They had a mission to finish. And then she would be free.
Rory turned and continued down the stairs, seemingly unaffected by the smell.
Rowen held the square linen to her face and breathed through her mouth.
At the bottom, Rory led them down a hall to where a barred wall stood. He took the keys out again and placed one in the door. Past the bars was a large, dark room with a single wide stone column from which hung torches, one on each of the four sides. The smell made her eyes water and what little she had eaten that morning came rushing back up.
“There.” Rory drew back his keys and pushed on the door. The door squealed on its hinges.
Regessus stepped inside the room. He wore a cold stare as he looked around. “Anyone in here?”
Rowen stepped inside as well. What she had first thought was one large room was more of an open area with prison cells built around it. Bars lined each side of the octagonal room. A rat dashed across the dark stone floor.
“A woman,” someone said with a croak. “It’s a woman.”
More figures moved in the other cells. A man came to stand beside the bars of the first cell. His face and head were covered with long, dark, matted hair. His eyes were so sunken in that he looked half dead. His body was skeletal; his fingers thin and pale, more like bones than fingers.
He stared at Rowen as if he had never seen a woman before. “Why are you here?”
“We are here to rescue you.” Regessus moved to Rowen’s side. Rory was already opening the cells.
The man looked at Regessus. “Rescue?” He said the word as if savoring it. “Rescue?” Others were muttering around the room.
Rowen approached the cell, a bitter taste in her mouth. How long had the man been here? He watched her approach like a wary animal. She stopped and reached out her hand until she touched the knuckles that surrounded the bars. He flinched, but didn’t move.
“Yes, rescue.” She stroked the bit of skin.
His mouth opened and closed. “Then . . . then you’re real.”
“Yes, we are real. And we are getting you out of here.”
“Oh, Word.” He reached through the bars. His fingernails were long and black, like talons. “Oh, Word.”
Rowen grabbed his hand with her left one and squeezed. Her power swirled inside her and reached out.
Hope blaze from the man, like the dawn, and tears pooled in his eyes. “I had given up, made peace with the fact that I would never leave this place alive. I was ready. But now . . .”
“Now you are free.”
“The Word did not forget us.”
Rowen smiled. “No, He did not.”
“How did you get here? Are the Shadonae finally gone?”
Rory was halfway through the cells behind her. Regessus was talking to a man in the next cell over.
Her smile faded. “No, they are not gone.”
&nbs
p; The man went rigid and dropped her hand. “Then how are you here? How will we escape?”
“I am helping you.”
“But there are shadows, and soldiers . . .”
Shadows? Did he mean the smoke-like beings? She shivered and looked away. That awful chill, reaching into her very soul—
Wait. She could feel these shadows. Her eyes widened. And if she could feel them, they could avoid them, right?
Regessus approached the cell. “And who are you?”
The man switched his gaze from her to Regessus. “Simon, first scribe from the Monastery.”
“One of the scribes. Anyone else in your cell?”
“Yes. Father Karl.”
“Can he walk?”
Simon looked back into the cell. “I believe so. But he is not in his right mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t speak or notice anything. And he only eats when I feed him.”
Rowen looked past Simon into the shadows. She could see no one. Rory was now at their cell and opening the door. Behind them the prisoners congregated around the pillar. Threadbare clothing hung across their limp, shivering bodies.
A burning knot formed inside her. She clenched her hands, her metal glove clanking at the movement. How could Valin do this? Chain people down here like animals. Her nostrils flared. She wouldn’t even treat animals like this! Leaving them in the dark in their own filth, with no light, and no fresh air.
Is that how Valin and Malchus saw mankind? As animals? To consum—
Rowen clutched the bars where Simon had been moments ago. A gag reached her throat. She had enjoyed the consuming. She closed her eyes, but she could not forget the prisoner inside the senate tower. She squeezed the bars until her fingers hurt. I would gladly take my scar back. But there was no going back.
Regessus touched her shoulder. “Time to go.”
She licked her lips. Did he remember what she did? He was there.
She turned around. There was no look of disgust on his face.
Perhaps in the haze of lies he never saw what took place before him.
She dropped her hands. “All right, let’s go.”
Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Page 21
