Kiss Of Fire (Imdalind Series)

by Ethington, Rebecca

  “Can you forgive me?” she pleaded, pulling me away from her to look at me. Her eyes were so off putting; the all encompassing blackness of them, combined with the dark tattoos, made her look ominous. I moved my hand up a fraction of an inch, as if to touch her skin but put it down again. The movement didn’t go unnoticed.

  “I know, I look a little... odd. You’ll get used to it. It took me a hundred years to come to terms with my new face, so take all the time you need.” She smiled widely at me, but I could tell it still made her a little sad.

  “A hundred years?”

  “Yeah, I am a ripe old lady. I was born in about 1795 and received the marks on July 10th of 1867.”

  “1795?”

  “Yeah, and exiled before my hundredth birthday. That’s why Ryland didn’t recognize me; we’ve never met, and I highly doubt Timothy ever spoke of me after he marked me. So in a century or so you can tell me if you think they suit me or not.”

  “Wait, what? A century? I can’t possibly live that long.”

  “All magical beings possess some realm of immortality, Joclyn. But it’s kind of contingent- if you don’t use it, you die. So, I guess, no – you won’t gain your immortality unless you actually start to use that magic of yours.”

  I had accepted the fact, almost without question, that Ryland and Ilyan, and even Wyn, had and used magic, almost without question. But in the back of my mind, the idea that I really possessed a magic of my own still felt like some kind of joke.

  “But you won’t be living until the world ends unless your back is healed. I apologize in advance.”

  Wyn lifted my sweater and placed her hand firmly on my bare back and instantly began to spread her magic into me as she checked my spine. I shuddered involuntarily. Her magic felt like ice inside my veins; it was the polar opposite of the relaxing warmth I got from Ilyan and Ryland.

  Ryland.

  “Will Ryland be alright?” My question was that of a child, and I knew it. But, I needed answers; I needed to know exactly what was going on so that I knew how to save him.

  “He will if we get to him in time.”

  I shivered, my shoulders jerking uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure if my jolt was due to Ryland’s fate or to the icy magic that was moving through me.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “The magic of a Trpaslík tends to be very cold. Of course most of my kind use their magic to kill rather than to heal, so that may be why.”

  I could almost hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  “A Trpaslík?”

  “Yes, once a very long time ago, my kind were the keepers of the fire magic.”

  Ironically, I shivered as the icy cold of her magic continued to move into me, chilling every part of me.

  “Sorry, I’m almost done.”

  “Why is your magic so cold if you used to keep the fire magic?”

  “I was told as a child it was taken from us by the Skȓítek’s and in the absence of heat we froze, but I don’t believe that anymore. Everyone here is a Skȓítek – I am just the odd man out.”

  “A Trpaslík.”

  “Yep.”

  “So why have different names at all, if you all look so much like humans?” I asked.

  “It relates to our magic. Skȓítek’s are the keepers, or the warriors, of all magic. They were once a powerful army that kept balance over the rest of us, but have since been almost driven to extinction. The Trpaslík are destructive by nature; our magic relates more to earth elements, and we can control them at will. Vilỳ’s were the givers of emotions, and kept the humans from their vices. The names relate to what we do not who we are.”

  “Then why do you still call yourself a Trpaslík if you no longer live with them?”

  “Because I am destructive above all else,” she grinned menacingly. “Trpaslíks are very good at making things explode. I’ll show you sometime.”

  I couldn’t help the shiver that spread up my spine. She enjoyed that reaction and smiled even more.

  “Well, your back feels fine.” Wyn jumped off the bed and flung the covers off me. I still wore the mysterious fleece pants and Ryland’s sweater. I sat and picked at the soft fabric. Thinking of Ryland had made me edgy, like I needed to go run a marathon. My soul called for him, begging him to be okay, to wait for me.

  “Broken back, huh?” I asked quietly.

  “I know, hard to believe isn’t it? It actually broke in two places. Right here,” she placed her hand at a spot right between my shoulder blades, “and here,” her hand slid down to rest a bit above the small of my back. “If it wasn’t for Ilyan you would have died.”

  I only nodded. Ryland had saved me, too. The images of Ryland’s beaten face and my mother’s broken body filled me. I felt my heart constrict again in its futile attempt to control the waves of emotion behind the dam I had built. I tried to push the heartbreak away; I needed her to be proud of me, whereever she was.

  “Are you okay?”

  I could only nod, my emotions moving far too slowly back behind their fortification.

  “Where are we anyway?” My voice broke uncomfortably at the attempted subject change. I obviously couldn’t handle thinking much about my mother just yet.

  “This is one of our safe houses; it’s an old motel that Ilyan bought and remodeled in 1968, hence the décor. We call it ‘The Motel’ strangely enough. Most everyone has updated their rooms, but this one and a few others have kind of been left alone.”

  Wyn helped me to swing my legs over the side of the bed, her hands assisting me to stand. My spine creaked, and I inhaled sharply as pressure was placed on it. Although the sensation was uncomfortable, it didn’t hurt. It felt like I had never stood on my legs before.

  “Come on,” Wyn coaxed. “I want to show you something.”

  Even though stiffness had replaced the pain, I still needed help to walk; my legs needed to be reminded how to do it. Wyn helped me, step by step, as we moved slowly forward, stopping after a few steps when Wyn turned me to face the window.

  The window opened to a beautiful courtyard that was surrounded on all sides by other rooms. It was full of flowers and vines that covered stone paths and beautiful wrought-iron patio furniture. And in the middle of it all, stood a giant tree, I had never seen one so large. It wasn’t a pine tree like the massive redwoods; it almost looked like an oak. Its broad leaves stretched up and out, covering the courtyard in a relaxing canopy of quivering leaves.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I know. The view in Prague is just as nice, too. You will see it when we get there.”

  “Get there?” I couldn’t help the panicked edge that crept into my voice. I couldn’t go anywhere without Ryland.

  “Prague is the city where all magic originates; it’s where we live. I am sure we will go home after we get Ryland out.” She smiled sadly as she answered my unasked question. I couldn’t help but feel the waves of uncertainty she was broadcasting - like she didn’t think rescuing him was a possibility.

  “When do we go get him?” I could feel the jittery feeling coming back.

  “That’s what Ilyan is in council right now to decide, Jos.” She moved some of my hair behind my ear, and I fought the urge to yell at her, not because she had touched me, but because I felt the need to leave to save Ryland right then. It bothered me that this need to rescue him had come on so strong, so fast.

  “Can we go for a walk?” I asked the first thing that had come to my mind, hopeful that my anxiety would dissipate with the movement.

  “Ummm, yeah. You are not allowed in council, and everyone else will be there. So, we can both go sit in the courtyard and wait for Council to be released, or we can go get some food in my room.”

  It didn’t take much thought to decide which I wanted. I would probably never be in the mood to meet new people. The thought gave me an overwhelming urge to pull the hood of the sweater up over me and hide, but I fought it.

  “Food sounds great.”

  Thankfully, the hall outside the room di
d not stink so much of the sixties. It had been covered in wood paneling, but painted a nice cream color and carpeted in a plush Berber that helped it to look much more modern.

  As we reached the end of the cream-colored hallway I noticed that only this hallway was covered in the lightly colored paint and carpeting. The new hall we approached was a deep green and had hardwood floors. Right at the transition, Wyn stopped and turned to a man I hadn’t noticed. He stood tall and still, right at the entrance to the hall, his focus down the hall ahead of us. At Wyn’s approach, he turned to her but said nothing.

  “Tell his lordship we have gone to my chamber. The Chosen Child has requested a meal and he is welcome to join us when Council concludes.”

  The man clicked his heels together, and Wyn bowed before turning and guiding me down the green hallway in the opposite direction. I looked back at the man to see him still against the door frame.

  “What was all that about?”

  “I hate talking like that,” Wyn said. “I am so much younger than everyone else, and they all get stuck up on rules, regulations, and traditions. I’m lucky I have you; now we can be the irritating rule breakers together.” I looked at her sharply; she hadn’t answered my question. She sensed my gaze boring into her and stoically kept her vision forward.

  “Wyn,” I pleaded.

  “Okay, they get stuck up on tradition, right? You have to address Ilyan in a certain way, bow to Ovailia in a certain way. You have to use the right verbiage in order to be properly understood,” she sighed.

  “Address Ilyan in a certain way,” I repeated in a whisper. My Lord. His Lordship. “So, Ilyan is like your ruler.”

  “King,” Wyn corrected. “King of four hundred people, yes, but still king.”

  My chest seized at the new information. Of course it made sense, but now I couldn’t stop worrying about how I had acted around him, and if I would get in trouble for it.

  “Considering they are the last of their kind, they take it very seriously. Well, everyone except Ilyan anyway,” Wyn said.

  “Does Ilyan not take his role seriously?”

  “Not really. You’ll see what I mean soon enough, though. Here we are.” Wyn turned me toward a door that had been painted a green so dark it was almost black. In the middle of the door were two handprints, one small and bright purple, the other large and dark red. She smiled before pulling me into the brightly decorated apartment.

  I couldn’t help but smile, too; the room was so Wyn, it was infectious. The bright bubbly colors made the last of my anxiety evaporate. A large king bed covered with a squishy leopard-print comforter occupied most of the space. The bed had an intricately carved footboard, but instead of a headboard a gigantic Styx poster covered the light, yellow wall. Wyn guided me to an oversized, upholstered, purple chair that sat in front of the window that overlooked the courtyard.

  “Food,” she chanted and bounced away to a half-sized refrigerator that sat next to the bathroom door.

  “I like your room,”

  She turned and smiled at me.

  “It’s so bright and fun,” I said.

  “Thanks! It’s probably a little too much, but out of all the time periods I have seen, I could live in the ‘70s and ‘80s forever.” She sighed as if caught in a silly memory and turned back to the fridge.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t even alive in the ‘80s but from what I had seen it probably wasn’t a time that I would have wanted to have participated in anyway.

  “I probably don’t have much that’s edible for you.” Wyn had buried her head in the fridge, her voice coming back to me muffled. “Talon doesn’t keep this thing very well stocked when I am gone.” Her head emerged from within the tiny fridge, her arms laden with a few things.

  “Talon? Do you share a room or something?” I had almost forgotten about Wyn’s boyfriend.

  “Uhhh… yeah… I’m over 200 years old, remember? I like to sleep with my husband as much as anyone.”

  My jaw dropped just as Wyn giggled and looked down. She was so much like a bubbly teenager; it was hard to think of her as quite literally old and, I guess, married.

  “So,” she placed the containers on the table next to me. “We have Maso, which is kind of a casserole made with berries, and lentils. This is Listy which is a leaf stew made with root vegetables. Or I found some cheese that I think Delia made a few months ago.”

  “Leaf stew?” I asked, poking at the containers. My stomach flipped. I hoped better food appeared soon; I didn’t think I could live on leaf stew and lentils for very long.

  “I made the same face about the food you eat, too,” she said. “We are all vegetarians and most of our food dates back before even Ilyan was born, when all the Earth were hunter/gatherers.” She shoved one of the smaller containers at me with a grimace. “Try the Listy; its closer to what you would normally eat, so you might like it.”

  I looked down at the contents of what Wyn had just handed me, and bile rose in my throat. It looked like someone had shredded the branch of a tree and boiled it with leaves, carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes. Wyn was already chowing down on some purple goo. I could already tell this would take some getting used to.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Listy didn’t taste as bad as it looked. As long as I didn’t look at what I put in my mouth, I could almost imagine it as a really thick meat stew. I didn’t know how long I could last eating leaves and carrots though. As much as I loved a good vegetable, I missed meat already and I was only one meal in.

  Wyn finished two containers of food in the time it took me to finish my one. The entire time, she talked about how much she had missed normal food. I let her babble; the majority of what she said washed over me as noise. My anxiety had not left yet; I was still far more restless than normal for Ilyan’s return.

  I needed to know when we were leaving.

  I ate another spoonful and forced down the gritty leaves again. I was surprised that I wasn’t starving. I was hungry, but not ravenous like I should have been. According to the news, everything had happened almost two weeks ago; meaning the half of a chili-cheese burger I had at Ryland’s house was the only thing to have had sustained me so long. I asked Wyn and she waved it away saying it was all part of the healing process.

  I had just set down my empty container when the door swung open and a very tall, very muscular man burst into the small space. Wyn squealed and jumped up, practically throwing herself at him. The man grabbed her as she wrapped her legs around him, his face moving to nuzzle her neck. I couldn’t help the stab that rushed into my stomach at seeing such raw heartfelt emotion.

  Talon was large, so large that seeing the two of them together looked uncomfortable. He had slick, light-brown hair that was cut a bit shaggy and the same refined features that I had grown used to seeing on Ilyan. Beyond the straight lines of his face, there was little resemblance between the two. Talon almost looked like a barrel-chested football player, grown and stretched too tall. His arms were large and cylindrical, his legs long and slender. It was disproportionate, but looked good on him.

  He finally pulled away from her, the surprise obvious on his face at seeing me sitting there. It took a moment for recognition to set in.

  “Sorry about this,” Talon said in an airy voice that didn’t really match his size. “Wynifred has spent most of her time with you, so I haven’t seen her much.” He tried to remove her again, but she still stayed tight. Finally he accepted defeat and went to sit on the bed and allowed her to stay positioned on his lap.

  “I’m Talon, by the way,” he said

  “Joclyn.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  “So, Joclyn, you seem to be all that anyone is talking about now.”

  I could tell Talon meant his comment to be just a conversation starter, but the way he looked at me made me uncomfortable.

  “Why?” I asked, alarmed.

  “Well, last of the Chosen Children and all that.” He flung his hand mindlessly to the side.
/>   “Oh.” My shoulders slunk and I looked down to my lap.

  Talon laughed, a big booming sound that fit his body better than his voice did. My head snapped up to see Talon and Wyn, who had finally emerged from her hiding spot, both looking at me.

  “Jos, prefers to hide, Talon. She doesn’t like to be noticed.”

  “Well, she will just have to get used to it then,” Talon said. “She’s the talk of the town! Finally, someone who can beat the socks off old Edmund!” He gave the air two rough punches with his hands, jostling Wyn around.

  I felt the color leave my face.

  “Talon, you can’t say that,” Wyn scolded as she detangled herself from her husband to sit next to him.

  Talon opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “It’s alright, he’s probably right anyway,” I sighed. “After all; if I’m going to save Ryland, I might as well knock the socks off somebody.” I felt my shy resolve melt away at the thought of saving Ryland. As much as I wanted to stay hidden, I wanted to save Ryland more.

  As if on cue, a loud knock sounded on the door, followed by a deep voice announcing Ilyan’s arrival. Wyn rolled her eyes but Talon only laughed again, nudging Wyn as if preparing for some great joke. He got up from the bed and moved to the door in two strides, throwing it open and instantly going down on one knee, his head bowed in reverence. Even in this extreme position, I could still see the wide smile on his face.

  “My liege, I bid you welcome to my humble home. It is an honor to welcome you into my presence.”

  Ilyan walked in, looking thoroughly unamused, and shut the door behind him.

  “Get up, Talon. You look ridiculous,” Ilyan scolded. Talon jumped up and clasped Ilyan’s arm tightly, his white teeth flashing.

  “Sorry, Ilyan, I just didn’t want our guest to get the wrong idea.”