Mathieu (White Flame Trilogy)

by Paula Flumerfelt

  Mathieu rolled his eyes. “Avian. Beating a dead horse again…”

  “It is not a dead horse! Something weird is going on and I don’t like it!”

  A pop sounded and Mathieu sighed. “Wonderful.” They were in the middle of nowhere and the carriage had just gotten a flat. “Stay here.” He instructed. Opening the door and going around to the back of the car, he saw that the driver side rear tire had pop, a nail sticking halfway out. Grumbling, he opened the trunk and pulled out a spare, complaining about the inconvenience of it all. Putting his hair, which now reached just above his hips, into a quick bun, he got out the jack and started to lift the carriage. He stopped only for a second to push up the sleeves of his sweater.

  Avian appeared to his left, kneeling beside him. “Let me help…”

  Bumping her with a small smile, he winked. “Don’t worry, hun. I got this one. You should’ve stayed in the carriage.”

  “Oh jeez, it isn’t like anything is going to happen. Let me help. I feel bad for nagging at you over things that you can’t change. Let’s do it together.” Her hand landed on top of his and she looked at him with a genuine smile.

  “Fine.” Mathieu surrendered, knowing it was pointless to fight with Avian, especially after this many years. He had never won an argument in over six years of working with her. Combined, it only took them a small fraction of time to get the tire changed.

  Standing with her hands on her hips and carrying an air of victory about her, Avian kicked their handy work. “Damn fine work, my loyal comrade!” She leaned against him.

  As she spoke, a shiver slunk up his spine that he had come to associate with being watch. “Avian,” his voice was low, only loud enough for her to hear, “get back in the car. Now.” He grabbed her upper arm and all but dragged her to the nearest door while keeping low; Avian didn’t protest about being manhandled. The door, however, wouldn’t open. “Damn it!” A bullet whizzed past him and he put his hand on the top of his best friend’s head, forcing her down into a crouch.

  Growling, his eyes began to lighten until the irises were pure white, ringed in gold. Concentrating, he created a cocoon of solid energy that wrapped around Avian, protecting her. “Don’t move.” He said, reaching through to touch her face reassuringly. Straightening, he turned to face the thick trees that ran all the way though the mountains; a twig snapped to his left but he kept his stance relaxed.

  Another shot rang out and Mathieu managed to strike out with his energy and deflect it. He ‘tsk’ed and tapped his foot, sending a small shockwave of energy through the forestry. A man fell from the tree not five feet from him. Narrowing his eyes, he formed a stiletto made of his own swirling energy. Grasping it, he sprung from his spot in front of Avian and struck at the man, stabbing down into his chest. Blood dripped from the man’s mouth, but the place where the blow was placed appeared undamaged. Energy damaged from the inside. As he stood there over the now dead man, his energy vibrated back to him. There were more enemies, but the trees prevented him from getting a clear idea of how many.

  Not a moment after he had moved away from her, bullet began to spray Avian’s protective shell. Her hands flew to cover her ears and she hunched down, scared. Her body was trembling finely, but to Mathieu’s relief, the barrier held. He used the attack to trace where the other men were.

  The stiletto in his hand lengthened, becoming a blazing sword. He ran into the cover of the trees, spotting two of the men shooting at Avian kneeling in the underbrush. A feral growl clawed up his throat from deep within him as he savagely torn through the first one with his energy. He grasped the back of the second soldier’s head, unprotected by a helmet, and channeled his energy straight into the man’s head; the body he held twitched for a moment before going still. Again, the wounds didn’t physically manifest, however, both men were on the ground, dead.

  He couldn’t tell how many shooters were left, and the count began to matter less as three men descended from the trees on wires and surrounded him, far enough back to be out of range of his weapon, but close enough to do serious damage.

  Searing pain bloomed down across his chest as a bullet tore through his shoulder and another just above his hipbone. He clapped a hand over the wound in his side, keeping his blade in the hand of his uninjured limb. The bullets these men were using blossomed out when they made contact, and now he was losing blood fast; his vision was blurring. Mathieu dropped to a knee and looked over to where Avian was cowering, only protected by his energy. Have to hold on, Avian…I’m coming…

  Anger gave him the strength he needed to force himself to his feet, sweeping the sword made of energy around in a large arc, managing to take out two of the enemies closing in on him with restraints. The third man took a step back and lifted his gun again, aiming for his head. Avian. His mind was fogging over and his vision was swimming. Forgive me… Mathieu couldn’t hold on any longer. His consciousness slipped as he hit the ground.

  ~*~

  A pounding behind his eyes was the first thing that alerted him that he was, in fact, alive. Groaning, he slowly cracked one eye open and allowed it time to adjust to the light. It was a painful experience, but soon he managed to get both eyes open and properly functioning. The room he was in was bare, just a small cot, which he was laying on, and a door that seemed extremely heavy. The light seemed to come from the room itself and as he tried to sit up, he winced.

  Laying back and lolling his head to the side, he could see that his shoulder and upper body were wrapped in a bandage, while his hip bore a thick, circular scar where he’d been shot. It hurt. A lot. “A-Avian?” His voice reverberated oddly around the room and back at him. He sounded scared and meek, even to himself. Mathieu aimed to sit up again and his eyes watered with the pain that laced through him. “Damn it…what the hell happened?” His limbs shook and the effort of breathing was causing him to pant. His body, however, was not his primary concern. The last thing he remembered was Avian being safe, but who knew what happened after he had passed out.

  The lack of response was starting to piss himoff more than the debilitating pain, though; if the Princess was close by, she should have been yelling, fighting, something so that he could find her. Gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists, he forced himself to stand and approached one of the walls. The short trip was strenuous and painful, so much so that he thought he was going to vomit. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the reflective surface that he could see himself in. It was a pretty horrid sight.

  His white hair was tangled and knotted, stained a light brown with dirt. It had also been cut unevenly, probably by a knife, to just passed his shoulders. His eyes were still white with gold ringing them and a thin gash was visible just below his right eye; the energy was probably trying to protect him while he was unconscious. Dark circle around his eyes told him that for however long he’d been sleeping, it hadn’t been very restfully. And to top it all off, he had been stripped to boxers. The scar on his hip was a peachy color and was highly visible against his lightly tanned skin. The slightly blood spotted bandage stood in stark relief compared to his flesh, as well.

  Going to the door, and attempting to power through a slight limp that the wound on the hip had left him with, he knocked politely on its hard, cold surface. It struck him as odd that the door was colder than the floor, and the floor was bone-chillingly cold under his bare feet.

  No one answered. So he knocked harder. A lot harder. He was pounding on the door when his own stupidity struck him. Closing his eyes, Mathieu licked his top lip, tapping into his already strained energy. It was a painful process, severely impeded by the throbbing behind his eyes, the pain that flowed through his body, and the fact that it probably hadn’t been recessive since he passed out. After a few more moments, he finally gave up his efforts. Gimping back to the bed, he collapsed on it and curled up in a ball and tried to even out his breathing. There wasn’t even a blanket.

  Staring at the wall, he tried to work through how he had gotten here and where
here was, exactly. He could clearly remember the carriage getting a flat and Avian moaning on about how her father was ‘jumping at shadows’. Then there was the attack. He knew that a few men had died at his hand, but he couldn’t remember anything after getting shot. It was just a blank in his mind. No sounds filtered through to him, no weird flashes of memory. From what he had managed to piece together, one would think that he had gone from laying below the cover of some trees in the middle of the mountains to this…room. He wouldn’t call it a prison, but he was getting that vibe. It was sort of like a holding cell.

  And then there was the issue of where was Avian? She had been there, being protected by his love and energy one moment, and now she was gone.

  A creak caused him to turn on the bed with a sharp intake of breath, averting his eyes from the wall and laying them on the door. A shadowed figure entered the room and set a chair just inside the door, laying a neat stack of clothes on top of it. The outline was feminine, but she didn’t say anything as she pulled the door closed again and the scrape of a locked could be heard loudly in the silent room. There had been a bright light just beyond the door and he hadn’t been able to distinguish details about her.

  He wanted to get up and retrieve some clothes, but he wasn’t sure he could do it so soon. Laying back down had been a moderately good idea, except that he hadn’t planned on having to get back up so quickly. Mathieu’s muscled protested sharply as he attempted to push himself to a sitting position, immobilizing him. The clothing wasn’t going anywhere, so he collapsed back onto the bed and closed his eyes. His body just needed to rest.

  After what could have been an hour, he bit his lip until it bled to give himself a sense of control over the pain in his body, he managed to sit up and swing his feet onto the floor. He only managed to push himself up to stand again with the thought of seeing Avian, but a light headed, nauseous feeling came over him the moment he was erect. This pain needed to go away, and quickly if he was going to accomplish anything.

  Each step was taken in jarring agony, making slow progress across the room once more. Mathieu ground his teeth in frustration; however, he reached the clothes without having to stop. They were not his clothes. They were cut for a male, something he wasn’t quiet used to anymore.

  Setting his pride aside at wearing barrowed clothes, he pulled the loose black pants on and slid the white tee-shirt over his torso. Mathieu was pretty sure the pain was going to kill him, because he actually started to cry. Looking at himself in the reflective wall, he punched the wall, against simulating control for himself, before wiping his eyes roughly. His reflection looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. There were no secrets in his face: concern, pain, fear, and anger. He also thought he looked rather ridiculous in the oversized clothing. Avian had been right to put him in girls’ clothes for so long, he realized.

  The door creaked open behind him again. Mathieu turned but was too late: the visitor was faster and had caught him with a solid hit across the back of the neck. Giving a small whimper, he crumpled to the ground.

  ~*~

  Slowly, things began to come into focus again, and the most nauseating sense of déjà-vu hit him.

  A weird haze was clouding his mind yet he could distinguish that he was in another room, much like one he had just occupied, and just as cold. This one, however, had a chair instead of a bed and the walls were less reflective. Or maybe that was just a trick of the light. How he could tell anything through the pain and his fogged vision, Mathieu wasn’t sure.

  His body kind of felt disjointed and he tried to lift a hand, wanting to make sure that everything was still where it was meant to go. When his hand didn’t simply rise to the level of his face, he tried to blink a few times before managing to roll his gaze down to his hand. That, too, was difficult, not aided in the least by the lines that blurred along his vision. After a moment of staring, he realized that he was now looking down at a bright, glowing bound. He was bound to a chair.

  He could sense a presence somewhere nearby, although he couldn‘t pinpoint it. “Hello?” Mathieu’s eyes skimmed along the floor to the wall, voice slurred.

  A man with blond hair was leaning against the wall beside the door. He shook his head in response, rubbing a stubbled chin in a pondering way.

  “Hey, ’m talking to you!” He half-yelled as he met the blond’s eyes, struggling to get free. It was taking some time, but slowly he was beginning to pull his head together.

  It seemed that the man took his gaze as a signal, a cue to cross the room. Long, callused fingers slid into Mathieu’s hair and tilted his head back, searching his face for something. The blazing emerald eyes of the stranger pierced into the depths of his, looking into his soul and making his pulse race.

  Feeling his personal space being invaded, Mathieu growled softly and swung a foot up to kick the man in the shin. “’Ey!”

  Making a noise of irritation, the man released his white hair, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. In a few long steps the stranger crossed the room and left Mathieu alone in the remaining silence. He took a shaking breath and looked around. Alone, he could try and think, although he was a bit disappointed in himself for ruining his chances of getting some answers. Staring after the man as the door closed, his brow furrowed. He was getting the strangest feeling that he’d met the man before. Yet somehow, he knew he’d never met the stranger in his life.

  And then it hit him. “Of course. The dream…” Everything had played out as he had dreamt it would so many years ago. But that still didn’t tell him where Avian was and why he was being held captive to a chair. “Oi! Let me out of here! I want to see Avian!” Mathieu stomped one foot on the ground and regretted it from the pain it caused his hip.

  No response came, but yelling into the silence did make him feel a bit better. Unfortunately, the pain behind his eyes hadn’t completely receded yet, making the use of his energy nearly impossible. So, swearing under his breath, he did the only thing that he could think of: he reached out with his mind, searching for either of his Shadowriders. Tesla was the first that he could touch, brushing against the male’s mind lightly.

  Tesla’s deep voice filled his head. Mathieu? Mathieu where are you?

  I don’t know where I am. Tell me what’s going on. Mathieu thought calmly, trying to prevent himself from going into a panic. That wouldn’t help him now.

  There’s a big commotion in the throne room. The King is claiming that you and Avian were attacked, that she was killed.

  A lump rose in his throat, eyes welling with tears; the thought was too painful to bear. We were attacked, but both of us were alive. He tried to reassure both Tesla and himself. I haven’t seen Avian since though, but I’m working on it. Listen, can you teleport to me?

  Not if you don’t know where you are. Tell me what you remember. Tesla instructed, somewhat placated at the thought that both of them were alive.

  Mathieu closed his eyes, thinking. They had guns. A whole squad of them. I killed at least three, maybe four of them, but there were more. I got shot twice and I don’t know what happened after that. Oi, find out what you can and get back to me, okay? He thought, needing to sever the connection before the pounding in his brain returned full force. Mathieu knew he could trust Tesla.

  I will. And with that, the Shadowrider pulled away from his end of the connection.

  “Damn it. This is ridiculous. Someone let me out of here! I need to find Avian!” Mathieu said loudly to no one in particular. But this time, the door creaked open.

  A man with red hair stood looking at him, his face older than the first man, maybe thirty-five or forty. The redheaded man’s arms were muscled under the shirt he wore and a sword hung at his side. “Hello, Mathieu.” The stranger had a glass of bourbon in his hand.

  “Who are you and what did you do to Avian?” Mathieu said immediately. Anyone here who knew his name must have gotten it from Avian. He began to struggle again, wanting free.

  The redhead came into the room and looked down at
him. “I’m Nathan. We can’t let you free yet, but we will soon. Avian is fine.”

  “And why can’t you let me go yet?” Mathieu said, eyes full of distrust.

  A crooked smile spread across Nathan’s face. “Simple. The person who bound you to that chair hasn’t come back. They should return soon, so just calm down.”

  That aside, he keyed in on his main worry. His voice was colored with distress. “Where’s Avian? What have you done to her?”

  “One of my men realized that she was the Princess of Unith and brought her straight to me. She and I have been talking most of the day, and she’s being well cared for. Avian is napping right now, I believe. Once we let you out, we’ll make sure to bring you to her.” Nathan chuckled. “At first she didn’t know we had you with us, but her Highness overheard Solomon telling me that you were being rather difficult and she said that she would like you to be freed. Apparently you are very important to her.”