Spellbound

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  He kicked her onto her back, then placed a boot on the side of her still snarling face. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Unfortunately for you, they’re guts I’d rather see spilled on the floor than tucked safely inside your vile abdomen.” He spat at her, snapping his boot tip against her face. She hissed and recoiled, spitting out a tooth and a mouthful of blood. “You are nothing more than vermin in my presence and if you ever want the chance to see your people again, I’d think you’d wisen up.”

  She crawled backwards, using her feet to push her away from him, her eyes flashing. Their pupils were tiny slits—dragon’s eyes. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have an army of her kind at his beck and call. Feral, bloodthirsty slaves.

  The Sovereign raised his hand again, gently placing her on her feet. She wavered, watching him carefully. Perfectly wary. “I hear that my rat of a slave is the only one you trust. Why is that so, little snake?” His own eyes gleamed and the girl turned her face away, stubborn. He reached a hand out, clamping magical tendrils around her waist and she winced, turning back to him.

  “Answer me.”

  “He is treated horribly,” she said with heat on her tongue. “You treat him like vermin just because he has none of your power. You’ve branded him a slave. For what reason? Your amusement? Just so you can watch him squirm? He has no one in this world.”

  The Sovereign merely laughed. “He is treated nicer than any of the other slaves here. He is lucky he gets to leave Esperidion at all. I don’t enslave him in a cage, but since you were kind enough to bring it up, we could always change that. I could cage him, so he might feel what a true slave has to feel.”

  The girl hissed out a string of words, probably curses in her own language. He waved his hand in dismissal, turning away. “I have no need to hear you any longer. I have sent a messenger. Whether you return home or not is up to your father’s willingness to part with his precious dragons.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Wyvern struggle with her bonds, scales covering her arms and legs. Long claws sprouted from her fingertips and her fangs were bared at him. She fought against the Mage trying to detain her, shrieking furious words in Vanlan.

  The Sovereign smirked at the man, who bowed low and then half-dragged the girl out of his room. The Sovereign returned to his seat and called for a glass of burgundy, all the while imagining his father’s stricken face.

  “How do you like me now, Father?” he asked the air, then broke into deep-rooted laughter.

  Chapter Six

  Kascien left their shared room behind, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jeans as he began to pace in the hallway. There was little rhyme or reason to the names of the corridors and the rooms among them, but he was scouting out possible exits. It wasn’t exactly easy.

  One hall alone had so many magical barriers that it nearly suffocated him walking down the aisle. From behind glass walls were creatures of all shapes and sizes; Magi experiments, chimaeras just like the drakehounds, but a lot more fearsome. Some sort of bear hybrid with deadly spines lining its back lunged at the glass, roaring so loudly that the sound rattled the wall and Kascien had to scramble to get away. When a Mage yelled at him to leave, he was more than happy to oblige. “On my way!”

  But some pathways were nearly void of all magical trace. If he could just somehow get Wylde this far into Esperidion, he could Portal them away. Vik hadn’t thought to take his chalk. But where to? The Kennel? No. They now had a guard staked out in the alley, near the ring.

  But perhaps they weren’t patrolling outside of Albany. Could Qwirek be an easy out? He’d only been there a handful of times, but there was one house on the edge that might work. His brow furrowing, he kept his gaze on the tile floor as he figured up an escape route, backtracking to Wylde’s room so he’d know where to go. He wanted to be able to walk this path in his sleep.

  Not watching where he was going, he slammed headlong into someone coming around the corner. It knocked him back with enough force to send him sprawling onto the floor. “Ouch, damnit!”

  He snapped his gaze up to greet the clumsy oaf who’d run into him—only to see Vik looking down at him, a curious gleam in his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, giving a gruff chuckle. “Should’ve kept my eyes open.”

  “What are you doing down these halls, Kascien?” Vik asked with a bit of a sigh, as if exasperated by having to constantly keep an eye on his charge.

  Kascien frowned, but shrugged instead of voicing his reason. He didn’t have one—besides escape—and he knew that wouldn’t fly well with the Sovereign’s right-hand man. Vik waved a hand and lifted Kascien to his feet without asking and Kascien growled low in his throat. He jerked away until the flow of power ebbed away from his skin.

  “Looks to me like you’re up to no good.”

  “Hardly.” Kascien snorted, glancing back down the hall that he’d emerged from. C-2-L. He could remember that, right? He had to. Shaking his head, he pulled away just as Vik reached for him.

  “I’m not doing anything. Just waiting for Wylde to come back. Lucky her, she got to meet with the Sovereign. I’m sure she’s jumping for joy right about now.” Sarcasm made his voice bitter with the nerves coiling in his gut.

  What was taking them so long? Perhaps she’d been hurt; from his past experiences, he couldn’t rely on Wylde’s temper not to flare up at the worst possible time.

  “Come with me,” Vik said suddenly, one hand on Kascien’s shoulder, steering him down the next corridor. It was dim, the lights flickering and buzzing, and the cells were made of stone, the doors barred with iron slats and a pane of glass. He paused, peering into the darkness.

  “This is what happens to slaves who misbehave, Kascien. They call this place the Hall of the Forlorn, and for good reason.”

  Then Kascien saw them—human shapes huddled in the backs of the cells, people with mangy hair and pallid skin that ran taut over bony frames. A man was pacing in the corner of one cell, turning tiny circles, muttering something; Kascien saw his lips moving, but no sound came from beyond the glass.

  “Why are they here?” He felt nerves tingle at his fingertips.

  “They are the ones who dared to disobey the Sovereign. Perhaps they plotted against him, or maybe they were plotting their escape.”

  Kascien’s breath caught in his throat.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I knew them all at one point in time and they will never see the light of day again. Because they failed what they were trying to accomplish. Because they got caught.”

  Kascien turned, having seen enough, and nearly jumped out of his skin as something slammed against the glass. With his face pressed against it was a haggard man with bluing hair, patches of it missing, torn from a blood-dotted scalp. His skin was thin with jagged little lines cut neatly across both arms, old scars. The skin hung in flaps from his elbows and he placed his bony hands against the glass.

  But it was as his eyes that caught Kascien’s attention: Every inch of the man screamed of weakness, giving him the appearance of a man on his death bed, but his eyes were a vivid green, untouched by magic and clear as the sky in the summertime. And they screamed at him—Help me. Get me out of this hell hole. You’re the only one who can! Please…

  Kascien shuddered and jerked away, backing away from the hall faster than his legs could carry him. He stumbled twice and it wasn’t until he felt Vik come up behind him that he finally stopped to catch his breath.

  That man… He’d seemed so familiar. Why were those slaves not getting the care they needed? Sure, they were the ones who disobeyed, but to treat them so inhumanely… “Why the hell did you show me that?” But deep down, he knew.

  To redirect his attention off of escape. Vik knew, somehow; he had to. But the Mage only frowned. “Be careful, Kascien, that you don’t end up trapped in the Hall of the Forlorn.”

  “Right,” he bit out, turning back towards Wylde’s room, his head throbbing with the memory of that old man’s haunting eyes. “What did
that guy ever do to deserve that?” His gaze met Vik’s and he crossed both arms over his chest. “What could he have possibly done to be thrown in a cage like some sort of monster?”

  Vik shook his head. “He crossed the Sovereign,” he said, and without another word, strode off in the opposite direction, leaving Kascien in the hallway. Kascien gave a growl and stalked off.

  Wylde was sitting on her cot when he entered. Her knees were drawn under her, her gown flaring around them. She held her jaw with one hand and underneath, her tanned skin was becoming ripe with a bruise. Kascien eased down next to her, frowning.

  “Lemme guess, you stood up for yourself?” There was a little more sting in his voice than he expected.

  Wylde sighed loudly and opened her mouth, revealing a missing tooth and bloodied gums. “Your leader is not the kind of king that would succeed in my world,” she said. “In fact, were he a contender to the Kiir’vanan throne, my father would’ve had him executed years before he got so powerful. And we don’t kill without reason.”

  Kascien heard her unspoken words: We’re doomed.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said, trying to blot out thoughts of that slave. “Your family will come for you.” If the Magi were true to their word on a trade—though he wasn’t confident they would be—at least she had a chance at an out.

  Him? He would have to choose: Try and escape, or die. If escape failed, he would ultimately have to fall on the blade, or else face the Halls of the Forlorn for the rest of his meager existence. He shuddered at the thought.

  With a groan, he curled up on his side on the cot. Wylde pulled away to put room between them, but as he dozed off, he felt her settle back against his side. She looked almost…content, for once.

  Rousing for a moment, he scooted over and patted the space beside him. Wylde’s cheeks tinted a charming shade of pink and he had to laugh. She huffed, but pressed her back up against his. He could feel her heart racing against his skin, felt her natural coolness, just like the drakehounds.

  With the strangest of smiles tugging at his lips, he closed his eyes. The smile faded when he saw that slave’s vivid green gaze drilling into him, begging with him.

  Please. Save us. You’re the only one who can…

  ***

  He was jerked awake by two shrieks—one came from Wylde, the girl huddled on the tile floor with her hands clamped over her ears, her voice a hawkish keen. The other, however, accompanied the flashing red and yellow lights that dimmed and brightened the hallway, a siren wailing loud enough to reach them through the heavy glass door.

  People ran down the hall, shouting to one another. What the hell? Were they having a lockdown? He’d never once thought a place like the Esperidion could have an emergency.

  He lunged to his feet and pounded both fists against the glass until it rattled. “Hey! Hey!” he screamed, but the people passing by paid him no never mind. “Damnit!”

  He spun towards Wylde, who was now eyeing him nervously. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes were wide. “I think something happened.” Of course, she’d probably gathered that. Smart, Kass, he spat at himself as he took up pacing, trying to rein in and sooth his fraying nerves.

  “Stop it,” Wylde whispered, her eyes darting to him and then to the glass. When he didn’t stop pacing, she stood and gave him a shove. He stumbled, falling backwards onto the cot, and she puffed herself up.

  Kascien opened his mouth to snap at her, but she was quicker: “I said stop! Pacing isn’t going to save us. Just… Let me think. Goddess, I wish that noise would shut up!” She ran her hands over her scalp, claws leaving reddening scratch marks as they drug through the inch-long stubble on her head.

  With a low, guttural growl, Wylde retreated to the farthest corner of their shared cell and spread her arms. Kascien watched, transfixed, as she transformed from human to…something entirely dragon in a matter of seconds.

  Her legs became thicker, her feet turning into bird-like toes with talon claws. Her arms were wings, wide and leathery with spikes at the tips. A line of spines ran down her back, dancing across the winding appendage that was her tail. Her skin flinched and then flesh was covered by a hide of deep blue scales. Under the fluorescent lighting, they sparkled.

  She gave a piercing screech and lunged at the door, slamming into it with such force that Kascien was sure it would shatter and slice her into a thousand tiny pieces. It merely rattled, resilient to the blow. She bounced off, landing on her butt, and Kascien laughed despite the dire situation.

  “I think if it would’ve been that easy, we would’ve done it sooner than now.”

  “It was worth a try,” she said, her forked tongue sliding between her teeth. Damn, she truly was some sort of beast. Still, she wasn’t wild, not like the Magi let on. She was magnificent. He reached out a hand to her and she froze, watching him. She didn’t make a move. Slowly, he ran his fingers across the pebbly surface of her scales, touching the leather of her wings. He’d never seen a dragon past his hounds…but if the real things were anything like her? Damn.

  She smirked. “Glad you like what you see, Kascien, but that doesn’t solve our problem.”

  “I know. If we could just get the cell open…”

  Then, as if by magic, the door swung inwards. Kascien’s gaze jerked up to see the nervous looking Magi who had taken Wylde to see the Sovereign, but he was without a pair of shackles this time. He took one look at Wylde, who growled deep and reverberating, and took a step backwards.

  “Everyone must evacuate to B-Hall,” he said, looking quickly at Kascien. What was this? Respect, almost? That’d be a first. “Vik says to get your Wyvern there, since you’re her tamer.” And there was the same old Magi snark.

  Kascien opened his mouth, a smartass remark dancing on his tongue, but Wylde was faster. She lunged at the man with frightening speed, knocking him to the ground and digging talons into his leg. There was a sickening crunch as his femur shattered beneath the pressure and he let out an agonized scream.

  Kascien grabbed Wylde by the wing and took off—the farther away they were from the wounded Mage when he regained awareness, the better. And he knew where he was going: C-2-L. He chanted the words in his head. Wylde growled, but it only made him ran faster. She loped along behind him, her wings pressing flat against her abdomen.

  Skidding down two halls, he finally found C-2-L. His heart skipped a beat, his breath coming out in heavy pants. They were almost home free. They just might make it!

  “Wylde!” Kascien shouted and the Wyvern glanced at him. And then she looked towards the entrance of the hall.

  Silhouetted in the flash of emergency lights was Vik Harper.

  Shit, damn, fuck! There went every last hope of ever seeing daylight. Wylde growled and lowered herself, readying to spring. Vik raised his hands, splaying his fingers and before he could think, Kascien stepped forwards, putting himself between Vik and Wylde. One arm reached out to hold Wylde back.

  “Vik.” The word uttered from his lips sounded childlike, almost pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. “Please…”

  Vik glanced down C-2-L, then back at Kascien, meeting his eyes. His own gaze was filled with anguish. “Kass…” He paused, as if the single word weighed him down, and Kascien braced himself for the lash of pain he’d come to associate with misbehaving.

  Instead, Vik dropped his hand. “Run. Fly far away from this place. Don’t look back. The farther you go, the less control he has over you.” Then he gave a strange sound, lips pursed, and took off in the opposite direction.

  What?

  Kascien’s head spun. Vik was letting them go? Just like that? Wylde’s growl prompted him back into action. They didn’t have very long. They had to go now. He tugged her down the hall, turning the corner. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his stumpy piece of Portal chalk, drawing the outline of a door.

  “Qwirek, 201 Ganther,” he said, drawing the pentagram. Grabbing hold of the Wyvern’s wing, he pulled her through the Portal before she had a c
hance to react.

  With a crackle of magic, the Portal deposited them neatly at the Qwirek’s edge. Crickets chimed their minstrel song. The woods were just a stone’s throw length away, the darkness of the night making them appear haunting. The moon was a thin sliver, a slice in the sky.

  “Who was that,” Wylde asked, turning to him.

  Kascien frowned and shook his head. “I guess…he was a friend. But we have to hurry. We have to make it to Vanla before they realize we’re missing, and who knows how soon that’ll be.” His voice came out hoarse, tight in his throat.

  Wylde nodded sharply, throwing herself into the air in three steps. Her wings beat heavily and for a moment, she wavered. His heart pitched, realizing that she could just fly away and leave him behind, but she wouldn’t do that…would she? She soared through the air, but circled around.

  “Hold out your arms!”

  Hesitantly, he did, only to feel the sharpness of her talons digging into his upper arms like a vice. He remembered the Mage’s femur snapping under the pressure and knew he was at her mercy. Wylde must’ve felt him struggle because she laughed as she rose into the sky.

  “I won’t hurt you, Kascien.” She pulled her legs closer to her belly, holding Kascien carefully, and with a couple of wing-beats, they were floating above the treetops. Wylde took them higher and higher, until Qwirek was just a tiny ink blotch on the map.

  Kascien felt a wave of nausea and decided to keep his eyes on the sky instead of below him. The drop would be a deadly one, but…

  It was crazy, but he trusted her.

  Chapter Seven

  Her heart thudded, a rush in her ears. She had truly thought she would die down there, in the cold hardness of the prison called Esperidion. She knew, deep in her soul, that even if her father sent the dragons as trade, the Magi would never let her go. She would’ve been the catalyst for a new war. Her father’s fury would’ve risen until either the Kiir’vanan or the Magi were destroyed.