Scorched Treachery (Imdalind #3)

by Rebecca Ethington

  I would have loved to walk quietly through the massive space, bask in the ancient architecture of the buttresses and stained glass windows I had known since I was a child. But the manic yelling of the man behind us was a heavy reminder of the desperate situation we had found ourselves in.

  The calm heads of the pious people turned at our frantic movement and the yells that followed us in. I saw the ancient priest step forward in his long black robes, his hands extended in welcome and worry.

  He was sweet and kind. All of these people were and I knew Edmund would kill him.

  “Vytékat!” I yelled to the old priest. His face opened in horror as the high screech of my voice broke through the relative quiet of the cathedral.

  He wasn’t moving. Fine, I would make him.

  I lifted my hand as we passed him, his body lifting ten feet into the air before I sent him tumbling into a confessional.

  It was enough. Edmund’s growing screams mixed with the new fear of those in the chapel. I saw people cowering against walls, hiding under pews, and a select few darted toward the main door to the beautiful room.

  I didn’t wait to watch them hide. I kept my attention in front of me. There were only a few rooms to go before we would reach the catacombs, only a few minutes before we would reach Ilyan’s tomb. We could make it.

  We could.

  Sain and I turned at the ancient pulpit at the head of the chapel to dart through the heavy wooden door to the left of one of the many sandstones statues. I heard the door slam behind us, and for one brief moment, we were trapped in silence. I listened to my labored breathing, Sain’s panting, and felt the tightness of my chest adding to the panic I felt.

  “To the door,” Sain whispered.

  I nodded once before continuing to drag him behind me.

  My heart beat and sputtered as we moved through the small bare hallways of the offices and apartments of the clergy before coming to a lone, black, stone door at the end of the empty hallway.

  The catacombs.

  My hand touched the ancient knob of the door as the door several halls behind us opened, releasing the screams we had trapped in the main chapel back into our ears.

  He was coming.

  I caught my scream in my chest. The door swung open and I shooed Sain into the dark, damp space in front of us, closing the door behind us as quietly as I could.

  The smell of ancient death hit my nose. The long forgotten smell of loss ignited my panic even further.

  I sealed the door, my magic closing the cracks and melting the stone together into a solid slab of rock.

  It was pointless really, Edmund knew where we were going, but anything I could do to slow him down, I would.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Our breathing escaped in a rush as our feet moved us down the winding stone steps and into the depths of the tombs below the Cathedral.

  “Faster,” Sain panted. I wasn’t sure if he spoke to me or to himself, but I took it at as a warning and let my magic flood through both of us, increasing our pace.

  We flew down the staircase as the air became damper, the light dimming as it welcomed us into the home of the dead. We reached the base of the staircase, the dark expanse of the tombs a vivid reminder of the prison we had just left behind - the prison I had left my mate in.

  I couldn’t think that way.

  Death filled my lungs as we moved past the large, dark stacks of bones that made up the walls of the labyrinth we had walked into. Skulls smiled at us, each one a casualty of plague or war. The bones served as a warning to grave robbers, but it was not one I needed to heed. We were going into a tomb, not taking things out of one.

  My magic heightened my sight as we moved through the maze of bones, Sain’s green light once again shone brightly in front of us as it led the way. We moved quietly through the deathly green hues, our ears perked for the sound of the door exploding off its hinges.

  The sound never came.

  My heart beat wildly within me. I was having trouble keeping my focus. Edmund should be here by now, something was wrong. My nerves prickled as my heart called out ‘trap’, putting me on high alert.

  Sain’s feet stopped in place, our intertwined hands pulling me to a quick stop in front of him. I gasped at the sudden stop, the sharp intake of breath echoing around the open space that surrounded us.

  “He is here,” Sain whispered, and my whole body turned to ice. “Do not fight him, or we will not survive.”

  We stayed still in the labyrinth of bones as Sain’s words settled into my mind. Edmund had moved beyond the door.

  The sound of our breathing mixed with a drip of water that was falling somewhere around us. The sounds bled together as they bounced off the bones and amplified themselves.

  I took a hesitant step forward, the heavy thump of my heart against my ribs causing me physical pain.

  We took one step after another, my bare feet surging with magic with each contact with the stone of the floor. Sain stayed close, his breathing heavy in my ear. I was his only protection.

  We moved through the labyrinth of bones at a snail’s pace, my head peeking around each corner before we moved, my feet dragging through puddles of stagnant water in an attempt to keep my connection to the earth’s magic.

  I shivered as we moved into the large space of the catacombs, the ceilings higher, the roof speckled with small windows that let ribbons of light into the ancient hall.

  I froze in place as I searched for him. But I felt nothing, saw nothing. I wanted to believe that Edmund was not here – but I felt Sain’s tense body beside mine. I couldn’t doubt Sain’s sight.

  “Where is he?”

  Sain said nothing in reply, the quiet that surrounded us only interrupted by the occasional echo of a drip of water. I turned to face him, his eyes wide as he focused on the bright white coffin that the mortals had buried Ilyan in when he resigned as their ruler, faking his own death, more than six hundred years ago.

  I turned toward it, expecting to see Edmund standing right beside it, but the large hall was still empty. The room was silent except for my ever-increasing breathing.

  I took a step into the room, Sain following as he cowered behind me. My bare foot accidentally slapped hard against the smooth stone of the floor, the sound echoing around us. I froze. If Edmund was down here, I had just given away our exact location.

  “Ruuuuun,” Sain breathed out, his voice shaking as his whole body began to convulse.

  His words were lost as my pulse quickened. I turned toward him, only to see his body shake, his eyes darkening into black and then fading back into green. His body convulsed beside me as his eyes flashed between colors, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Sain’s eyes widening as if his whole face was being stretched.

  I forgot to breathe as I stared at him, the panic taking away my ability to process what he had said.

  “Ruuuuun,” he repeated again, his voice deep and hollow.

  This time the word sank in, it ignited inside of me and sent my feet moving in a panic; Sain’s body dragging behind me as his feet stumbled in a blind attempt to follow.

  Our feet hit heavy against the floor, our breathing mixed with the hollowness of our steps. Each sound hit my ear, the urgency of each one increasing as we made our way toward what was now our only chance of escape.

  “I’m going to hurt Cail, Wynifred.” I froze at Edmund’s voice, my feet coming to a stop only inches from the tomb that would lead us to safety.

  “I’m going to rip his body apart piece by piece. Hundreds of years of disloyalty needs to be punished after all.” His voice was loud, his heavy breathing making the desperation, the madness, heavier in his voice.

  I couldn’t move as I listened to him, as the echo of his words hit my ears over and over. I fought for control. I fought to recall the words Sain had said only moments ago.

  “I am going to make him pay.”

  “If you can get in,” I said simply, unable to control my mouth as I took the last step towa
rd the tomb.

  “You think a little fire can stop me? I will be back in there before nightfall, you little slut. Then I will do to Cail what I did to Rosaline. I will remove his soul from his body, as slowly and as painfully as I can.”

  “No!” I couldn’t help the sound that came from my mouth. I turned around to face him, my fingers clawing at my thighs with the need to rip his eyes from his face.

  Edmund stood at the entrance we had just come through, his smile wide as he watched my panic. His eyes flashed as he watched me, his dark hair loosened from its usual tightly gelled style, his hand dripping blood from where he had ripped the finger from his body.

  This had been his plan. He knew I wouldn’t back down from this threat; he knew and so did Sain. Sain wrapped his arms around me as he attempted to keep me back, to stop me from attacking.

  “Do not fight, Wynifred,” Sain hissed in my ear, the reminder of his sight from only moments ago barely grazing the surface of my panic.

  “I will rip him apart, limb by limb, until there is no more blood to shed, until his soul has given up. I will take his soul, Wynifred, and I will use it the way I use Rosaline’s. I will keep it in a place you will never find it. Not that you will be alive much longer than he is.”

  “NO!” I fought against Sain, his weak body using up the last of his energy in an attempt to keep me at bay.

  “I would do the same to Talon…if he was still alive.”

  I could hear Sain mumble behind me. I could hear him gasp as my magic surged under my skin, burning him on contact. But he didn’t budge. He endured the pain as he attempted to keep me safe.

  Stay safe Wynny.

  My fight left me as Talon’s voice echoed through my head, his words joining Sain’s in a jumbled mess that pulled the fight out of me.

  I stopped struggling against Sain’s hold. I looked down to the stone floor of the catacombs, my eyes scanning over the tombs that littered the floor in front of us before I raised my head to look at Edmund.

  Edmund smiled at the look in my eye, at the way my lips pursed. He believed he had won – that I would fight him now and he would win. He was a fool to think I was so easily predictable anymore.

  I wasn’t who he still thought me to be.

  I was Wyn.

  My eyes locked with his as I sent my magic surging through the floor of the tomb, the ancient magic in the stone collecting with mine to supercharge the pulse, which hit in a surge that shot him straight into the air.

  Edmund yelled as his body impacted with the roof of the tombs, the magic still surging through his body painfully.

  I pulled Sain with me as I turned, the lid of Ilyan’s coffin lifting just enough to allow us passage inside.

  Edmund’s screams died as we slipped ourselves through the opening, the magical barrier of Ilyan’s protection washing over me as I moved through it.

  There was no way Edmund could follow us here. For the moment, we were safe.

  “Wynifred!” Edmund yelled. I turned, my eyes peering at him through the gap in the lid. “I will make him pay.”

  “I will retrieve both of their souls, Edmund, right before I rip your heart from your body.”

  He balked at my statement, his face going white before the lid to the coffin dropped, enclosing us in the dark space.

  I listened to Sain’s breathing equalize alongside mine as we waited for a sign that Edmund was trying to follow us, as we waited for his attempt to break through the barrier Ilyan had placed around the tomb.

  But none came.

  A deep green light flared in Sain’s hand, and I looked toward it, my heart calming to see the relief in his face. We just looked at each other, neither of us having the words for what had just happened.

  Sain turned toward the tunnel that opened up behind him, the long dark abyss that would lead us safely underground and right into Italy. His light flickered along the walls of dirt and stone until the tunnel faded into an endless stretch of claustrophobic black.

  In any other situation, I would have been scared at seeing an endless enclosed space. Instead, I felt my heart relax at the promise of safety it held for us.

  “We’d better hurry,” Sain whispered as he stepped into the tunnel, the first step of a long journey.

  I rushed to catch up with him, his words sending ice down my spine.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, dearly hoping he hadn’t seen anything else.

  “We don’t have a lot of time.” Sain didn’t look at me as he spoke; he simply continued walking, his slow pace taking us straight forward.

  “Is he coming?” My voice slithered over my tongue, the fear rushing right back to the surface.

  “No,” Sain said as he turned to face me, “but you have less time than I originally thought.”

  Sain reached forward and grabbed my left hand, lifting my arm to eye level. I looked at him in confusion, trying to make sense of his words. His eyes darted to my arm.

  “Sain?” I asked, my eyes following his to my arm and then returning to him as I tried to make sense of what he was saying.

  “Edmund has plans for your brother. We must get you to Joclyn before it is too late.”

  Ilyan

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The large map of the grounds that surrounded the Abbey took up the majority of the expansive table that stood at the end of the long kitchen. I stood over it, facing the crumbling stone ovens and fireplaces that had once been used by the monks of Rioseco for food preparation. I stared at the map, ignoring the twinge of guilt from using this room as a planning room for the battle that was coming closer and closer.

  It had been seven days since we had been found and the first eight camps appeared. Now we could see twenty-two. Each one was marked by a small red dot on the map, the number of how many we assumed to be in each camp marked in quill pen beside it. The camps kept coming, and still no Ovailia.

  Joclyn had been trapped in the Tȍuha for almost two weeks...three months for her. For three months, Edmund had been torturing her. I had healed her after every attack, but the injuries still kept coming. Last night they plagued her over and over until, in the end, I had to restart her heart, my magic manually pumping it in an attempt to keep her alive. Futile, that’s how it felt.

  My only hope for her now was Ryland.

  I scanned my eyes over the paper, trying to find a rhyme or reason to the pattern, but once again finding nothing. That didn’t necessarily mean anything though. It could simply mean that the Trpaslíks did not follow instructions, which was common. I snatched a strawberry out of one of the bowls that held down the massive paper, moving around to the other side of the table, hoping another angle would help.

  “One new camp last night,” I said as Dramin walked in, his energy slow and lagging from having just woken up. He came up beside me, and I pointed to the newest red dot, the ink on the number six still drying.

  “One is better than ten,” he chuckled, his reference to yesterday’s surge making me cringe.

  Yes, one was better than ten, and after they had come so steadily, it only left me worrying about what was coming. I stretched my hands out to hover above the map, trying another view, but nothing jumped out at me.

  “Do we have a plan yet?” Dramin asked, but I only laughed humorlessly at him.

  At this point, if Joclyn didn’t wake, it would be me against upwards of a hundred Trpaslíks with a little help from Thom. While I had defeated that number before, it was not without grave injury, something that would take time to recover from, and I had been alone at the time. There were many other considerations when I had to protect the people around me. With the impending assault my father had planned, I doubted I had any time on my hands for either healing or complicated strategy.

  “Does all this happen before or after Joclyn wakes?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might,” I prompted, careful to keep my voice light. “When does she wake?”

  “Soon.” Dramin grunted a bit and sa
t down beside me, his hands already wrapped around a full mug of Black Water. I stared at the water as if it had offended me. We had given Joclyn the water for the past four days and nothing had happened. No waking, no more sights. She stayed still every time, laid out on the wide couch that had been placed in one of my side rooms years ago, now used only to supplement Joclyn’s nutrition.

  I sat down heavily next to Dramin, my eyes still focused on the poison in his hands.

  “Do you suppose,” I began, careful to keep my voice level and innocent, I didn’t need a commanding tone to set Dramin on his guard, “myslíte si, že we could give her another sight, she might wake? We could pour the water over my skin first.”

  I cringed internally as I spoke, the pain from my last burn still strong in my veins. Most of the time it was just a dull hum of an ache, but sometimes it would flare up in agony. When I had been given the sight about Joclyn eight hundred years ago, I had experienced the painful surges of the Black Water for centuries; shadows of the pain still plagued me when something would rub against the scars, namely fabric. There was no reason to expect anything less this time around. I was mad to even suggest it.

  “I’m not sure what that much Black Water inside of anyone other than a Drak would do,” Dramin said simply, but his words set me on high alert.

  “Uvnitř?” My voice must have sounded much deeper than I thought because Dramin chuckled, his dark green eyes and youthful face turning toward me.

  “Yes, Ilyan, inside. Why do you think it still burns? It will burn until your magic has changed it enough to let it flow comfortably through your veins. But even then, it is still Black Water. It’s just more you than Imdalind at that point.”

  I stared at him wide eyed. I had never heard this before. I was raised to be King, raised with all the knowledge of our kind so as to be able to lead them. But this? I had never heard this before.