Decadia Series: Books 1-3

by Apryl Baker

  Lukas turned her to face him, and her beautiful green eyes were wild with fear and unbridled rage. She threw herself at him, and he held her for a moment, grateful she was alive. “I knew you’d come.”

  He leaned away from her and tipped her head up. “I’ll always come for you.”

  “Not to interrupt your reunion, but we need to move. Now.” Talen had his head cocked, listening. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Shift is changing.”

  “Can you walk?” Lukas kept an arm around her just in case, but she nodded.

  “Can you run?” Talen turned to them both. “They know someone entered her cell and are coming.”

  “I can run.”

  Without another word, the three of them took off, not daring to look behind them.

  Chapter Three

  Ileana let her fingertips drum on her desk’s surface. Her mind was leagues away, thinking of strategic moves that would have to be made. Each anticipated move from her opponent ran through her mind like a wildfire, and then her countermoves for various contingencies that would have to be accounted for.

  The leader of the Thieves Guild learned long ago to adapt to the change of events. Even now, word reached her that the sailor known as Lukas refused to leave without his captain. Where most would pull their hair in frustration, Ileana adapted her plan and moved on.

  War was coming if she failed. Far from a patriot, Ileana understood what war would do to the economy. She was also very aware what an Atlantian victory would mean. It would usher in a new era of dominance. Order would be so strict, the people would be herded as sheep, and the shadows in which the Thieves Guild operated would shrink into oblivion.

  A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Ileana already knew who it was before she offered entrance to the group. The soft knock, the three pairs of heartbeats on the opposite side.

  “Come in.” Ileana pushed herself from her desk, her back straight, chest forward.

  The door opened with Talen in the lead, Lukas and Valeria following. The former’s skin was red around his neck, and the latter two looked beyond exhausted, yet a fire burned in their eyes.

  “You miserable piece of rotten filth!” Lukas’s arms and shoulders shook with rage. “You betrayed us all.”

  Talen moved to stand beside her desk, his hand on the pommel of his dagger.

  “There’s no need for violence.” Ileana shifted her eyes from Talen to Lukas. “Neither is there cause for name-calling. I made the move that was left to me. It was neither personal nor malicious. It was what I had at the time. Kronos already knew you entered the city. If I refused to help him or had aided you, I would have been in the dungeons with you. Instead, I am now in a position to not only free you, but I have gained Kronos’s trust. Moreover, I can now aid you in your quest.”

  “Our quest?” Valeria spoke for the first time. The rage echoing in her voice unnerved Ileana, but unlike Lukas, the captain had regained some of her composure. She kept all that rage in check. “Explain.”

  “Your claim to the throne, of course, and the end to the war with DeCadia that promises to ignite any day now.”

  Ileana was not caught uninformed or by surprise often. Today, she was. It was clear to her that Valeria had no idea what she was talking about on either subject. So, if Valeria had not come to make a claim for the throne with her uncle, and neither did she know of the emerging war, why had she come?

  A thought so simple entered Ileana’s mind she dismissed it at once. Years of learning to trust her intuition made her rethink the possibility. Could it be? Had Valeria simply wanted to return to Atlantis for—for some kind of homecoming?

  Valeria’s next words confirmed Ileana’s suspicions. “I have no desire to rule Atlantis, even if I were of royal blood. Tell me of this war you claim is coming.”

  “Kronos has been building his forces for years to invade your homeland. He’s just announced his intention to the populace, and it’s been met with overwhelming support.” Ileana shifted her gaze to Lukas and Talen before continuing. “As for the next part, perhaps we should speak alone.”

  “I’m done speaking with you.” Valeria blinked tired green eyes. “We must return to the dungeons to rescue the rest of my people. If you are sincere in your words, you will help us free those left imprisoned.”

  Ileana took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. She knew Valeria was a wise captain, but the question now was if she would allow the loyalty to her friends to interfere with Ileana’s carefully laid plans.

  “We will rescue your friends. As promised, you’ll have all my resources and support behind you, but we do it my way.”

  Valeria was about to open her mouth to protest, but Ileana intercepted the rebuttal before it could be spoken.

  “Your escape will have been noticed by now. The remaining crewmembers who are still alive will be under double, maybe even triple guard. Our best chance of success is to free them tomorrow when they are to be publicly executed.”

  Valeria blinked once, twice. Her sleep-deprived mind was trying to sift through the numerous variables. Ileana understood the look well.

  “If you cross me again…” Valeria’s eyes turned from tired and bloodshot to dark green as the magic inside her boiled. Green flames danced in her eyes. Her sentence didn’t need to be finished. Everyone in the room understood her intentions.

  “We want the same thing.” Ileana motioned toward Talen and Lukas. “You’ll need food and rest. Tomorrow will be a big day. I wonder if I might have a moment with the captain, alone.”

  As expected, Lukas looked to Valeria for direction. A slight tilt of her head was all the big man needed to take his leave. A parting glance of anger at Ileana, and he was gone. Talen closed the door behind the two men as they left.

  “I’d offer you a seat, but what I have to say won’t take long.” Ileana cleared her throat, trying to determine how much Valeria already knew. It was unclear, despite her traveling with Tobias Blood, whether Valeria understood her own heritage. “Tobias Blood was brother to the king. When Kronos killed him, he fled. You’re his granddaughter. You two are the last living members of the true royal family. If Tobias does not reclaim his ruling position, you must.”

  The burden on Val’s weary face was undeniable. It was clear now Valeria already knew who she was and what that meant.

  “That is a problem for another day. It is also a dilemma with which you need not concern yourself. The right to the Atlantian throne belongs to Tobias. What he decides to do with it is his own decision.”

  “You know he won’t wear that mantle,” Ileana pushed. “Somehow you’ve known all along.”

  Val took a moment to think before turning her back on the leader of the Thieves Guild. “I’m going to get some rest. I’ll want to go over your plans to free my friends once I awake. And, Ileana?”

  Something in Val’s voice made Ileana give the captain her full attention. The fire was gone in the woman’s eyes, but a hard edge remained. “If what you’ve said turns out to be anything but the absolute truth, I’ll be coming for you.”

  With that, the captain strode from the room, leaving Ileana more troubled than she would like to admit.

  ***

  Stephen’s cold nightmares gave way to his waking reality that wasn’t much different. A harsh, grating noise filled his cell. Stephen was grateful for something to break the monotony of prison life, waking only to sleep on the cold ground again.

  The sound came once more. This time, Stephen realized what it was. The bolts on the outside of his cell door were being slid open. Was this it? Was this the rescue he’d been promised by Ileana?

  The brief mist of hope evaporated before his very eyes as the door was thrown wide. Twelve heavily armored prison guards stood in two rows of six. In their left hands they carried riot shields that covered their shins, torsos, and up to their helmeted heads. In their right hands they carried thick batons, all showing heavy signs of wear.

  Their eyes wer
e focused, staring at him from behind clear visors. Someone from the back of the bunch spoke in a rough booming voice. “Prisoner 91729, you are to be taken and executed in full view of the Atlantian people for your crimes. Will you come with honor, or shall we drag you from your cell like the human dog you are?”

  Stephen gathered his long blond hair behind him in a knot. “Ultimately, you will take me through sheer number, but,” Stephen readied himself, pointing at the two guards in the front of each row, “I’m definitely sending you and you to the infirmary for months to come. Maybe even the next two behind you as well.”

  Stephen’s tone was so calm, his words so final, uncertainty flashed in each of the lead guards’ eyes.

  “Take him,” the guard in the rear ordered.

  They came at Stephen at once, two rows of guards seeking to press him against the back wall of the prison and beat him to submission or unconsciousness.

  Stephen understood he was fighting a losing battle, but walking to his death under his own power seemed insane. Stephen slammed his right foot into the face of the guard on his left. A shower of dark red blood exploded behind his clear visor at the same time Stephen heard the man’s nose break.

  He had just enough time to tear the shield from the hands of the guard on his right and strike him in the throat. The blows were enough to send the front two guards to the ground. Then, what Stephen knew was inevitable came. The remaining guards maneuvered around their fallen comrades, closing the fighting distance. Stephen managed a few more strikes, but they were too close now. Their shields pressed against his body, pinning him to the stone wall of the cell.

  Batons beat him across the sternum and temple. Blood seeped into his eyes and blurred his vision.

  Stephen didn’t even remember being knocked unconscious. One minute he was throwing blind punches, the next he was being dragged by his arms through the underbelly of the prison.

  ***

  He tilted his head to get a view of where he was being taken. Two large doors were flung wide open. A long hallway stretched before them. Stephen heard voices, loud and boisterous. Happy, excited voices. Where were they going? Halfway down the hall, a motion sensor activated, and the wall began to move, the upper half sliding away to reveal a large crowd clustered in a gigantic room. They were sitting on bleacher-like rows, as you would see in the arenas of old.

  When several turned and saw him struggling against the guards, they seemed to get even more excited. Some pointed, some laughed, others stared silently, a look of horror on their faces. He didn’t understand the mixed responses. What was going on?

  At the end of the hallway, two more guards opened another set of double doors, and the hallway turned into a thick stone room, with a door directly across from them. Other than that, it was empty. One of the guards behind them walked ahead and entered the door, while the guards holding him waited patiently.

  Stephen tried once more, bucking up to shake the guards loose, but they only grunted, and one slammed a fist against his head. His vision blurred, and his body sagged, firmly telling him to knock it off. He felt bruised all over, like he’d been kicked. Perhaps he had. There was a moment when he’d blacked out, so it was possible, and he didn’t remember it.

  The door ahead opened, and the guard motioned for them to follow along. When they came to a stop, he was pulled to his feet, the grip the guards maintained iron clad. Stephen blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. When it finally came into focus, he stilled, shocked at what lay before him. It was a circular room, a reclining chair sitting directly in the middle. Straps adorned the arms, the legs, and the middle of the chair’s back. A machine was directly behind it, the symbols unlike anything he’d seen, but he did notice a long, clear cord with a needle attached to the end of it.

  You are to be taken and executed. Those words echoed in his head. The machine was obviously the means of execution. It had to be some type of poison they were going to inject into his veins. In DeCadia, executions were carried out quickly, a shot to the head. This looked elaborate and possibly slow.

  A grinding noise startled him, and he saw the wall move, revealing the room of people he’d passed before. The only thing that separated them was a floor to ceiling glass wall, revealed once the wood panel had slid away. They were going to watch as his life fled from his eyes? What sort of people were they to enjoy his death?

  Another door opened, and two more prisoners were led in. Tobias and Ryder. Tobias’s hands were bound with some type of silver rope. A heavier, thicker version of the rope was wound completely around Ryder, from her neck to her feet. The guards carried her in and set her down beside Tobias, who refused to look at anyone. He stared at nothing, his eyes cold and empty. Ryder, on the other hand, looked panicked, her expression wild and fearful. The scent of burning flesh met Stephen, and he understood when he saw Ryder flinch. The chain seared into her flesh every time she moved. It must work to suppress magic, but for a Dragon, it caused pain as well.

  Stephen thought he’d feel joy at seeing the Dragon in so much pain, afraid of what was coming, but he felt something else entirely. Sympathy and anger at the people who had done this to her. It was at odds with how he normally felt, and it confused him. As much rage as he had for her, he did not wish anyone else to harm her. Perhaps it was simply that he wanted to be the one to bring her to justice. That made sense to him, but he knew it wasn’t the reason. His inner voice screamed denial. He did not like seeing her in this position. It didn’t sit well.

  The man who entered behind them nodded to the guard next to Tobias, who pushed the man toward the chair. Tobias never faltered. He walked calmly to the chair and sat, regal as any king. That’s when Stephen understood this man wasn’t only a slave, a sailor, a magician. He was a prince of Atlantis, and he was acting like it. His head was high, and he stared at the crowd without blinking, his eyes like frost. Several heads behind the glass wall bowed or looked away from that unwavering gaze.

  “Citizens of Atlantis.”

  Stephen’s focus was brought back around to the man who had come in last. He was dressed in a silvery blue robe, his white hair slicked back. Green eyes danced with mirth as he smiled at the crowd. It unnerved Stephen. This man enjoyed his job. He enjoyed causing their deaths. Stephen felt sickened by it.

  “Before us stands a traitor, banished from our home. He dared to defy our beloved king, who spared his life, by returning to our lands. Now, in accordance with the laws and traditions of our home, he shall be put to death for his trespasses, along with those who accompanied him.”

  A cheer went up, and Stephen found his own anger starting to spiral. How dare they revel in their deaths?

  The executioner nodded to Tobias’s guards, and they removed his bindings, only to strap him into the chair. The needle was pushed into a vein on his arm and taped down. Stephen struggled, but in his weakened state, there was nothing he could do against the guards who held him firm.

  He was going to die here today, along with Ryder, Tobias, Lukas, Valeria…but where was she? Neither she nor Lukas had been brought in. Were they already dead? A knife twisted in his stomach. She couldn’t be dead.

  “Do you have anything to say, traitor?” the executioner asked, the sneer on his face daring Tobias to speak.

  “I am Tobias Dendali, and whether I die here today or not, the Dendali line will regain its rightful place. The people of Atlantis will no longer be under the rule of a cruel dictator. Do with me as you wish, but my bloodline lives on and will restore our once great Atlantis to what it was.”

  The executioner backhanded Tobias, splitting his lip. Blood ran down his face, and Tobias smiled. Stephen gaped at him. The man smiled.

  “May the ancestors of our forefathers forgive you.” With those words, Tobias settled himself back against the chair and waited for death.

  Stephen watched, horrified, as the guard standing by the machine was given the go-ahead to start. A dark blue liquid sped down the clear tube and directly into Tobias’s arm. I
t took only a moment for the man to begin to jerk, his bindings preventing him from coming off the chair. Stephen cringed, understanding this was to be his fate too. This horrible, painful, undignified death. When Tobias stilled and his body relaxed, the guard moved up next to him and checked his pulse.

  Tobias was dead.

  Stephen had no time to take in the shock of it as Tobias’s body was removed from the chair and hauled off into the room they’d come out of. Ryder was taken to the chair next, but they didn’t remove her bindings. Instead, they used the middle strap to aid in holding her down. Another strap he hadn’t seen went over her legs. She was more tightly secured than Tobias because of the full-body bonds already wound around her.

  This time there was no speaking, no mocking, only a nod from the executioner, and the process was repeated. The needle went into a vein on her neck instead of her arm because of the way they’d bound her, but the results were still the same. The blue liquid invaded her body, and within moments, the convulsions started, only Ryder wasn’t quiet. She screamed, begged, cried.

  Stephen lunged, trying to get to her, his instincts taking over. The sound of her cries was more than he could take. He had to do something to end this. Another staggering blow landed on his head, but he fought through it. He’d been given one job, and that was to keep her safe. He had to get to her, to yank the poison from her before it was too late. More blows landed, and more hands pulled at him, but all he could see was Ryder, her convulsions slowing until her body lay still and pale. When his hands covered hers, the warmth in them was already dying. No one had to tell him she was gone.

  Rage gave him strength, and he turned, catching the first guard with a glancing blow to his chin, knocking him backward. More swarmed him, and he fought, knocking them down one by one until only three guards and the executioner remained. They all paused a moment, their audience rapt, their breath held as they waited for this to play out.

  The lighting in the room flickered, and he glanced toward the ceiling, as did everyone else. There was a loud pop, and the room was plunged into darkness. Utter and complete darkness.