Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2)

by Rauscher, Meaghan

  “Well, well,” Bolrock sighed heavily, “You seem to be delaying. Waiting for help, are we?”

  “No,” I shook my head, trying to summon up some semblance of courage.

  “I really don’t believe that,” he said and a few of the on looking Hyven soldiers chuckled. “Tell me where he is.” His words were a demand that shattered the façade of pleasantries.

  “I don’t know who you are talking about,” I said and a thought clicked into place. This group hadn’t come here for me. They wouldn’t need so many soldiers to hunt me down. They were here to get the one who had always resisted Bolrock, who had stepped in his place, as Morven’s right hand man.

  All my fear turned into defiance. It didn’t matter if Zale couldn’t remember who he really was. It didn’t matter, I had lost all hope of his ever remembering. What mattered was my love for him, as he used to be and as he was now, and nothing was going to take that from me. He was present in my being, with every beat of my heart, and the thought of losing him after suffering what had been done to Patrick, was too much to bear. For losing him, would be losing them both.

  “Oh, I think you do know,” Bolrock said, pulling me from my thoughts. His eyes constantly searched my face as he stepped closer. I forced myself to hold my ground. “You know exactly where Zale is. And I don’t care what I have to do to make you tell me.”

  “Get away from me,” my hand whipped the dagger out of its sheath and I pointed it directly at his chest. Again chuckles whispered through the night.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Bolrock said his voice calm, but the kindled light in his eyes spoke of long awaited anticipation. I prepared myself for the pain that was surely coming. He raised his hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to get hurt. All you have to do is tell me where he is.”

  “I already told you I don’t know!” My voice rose as I tried to make it more convincing.

  “Fine then,” he said and his blades flashed out of his forearms. He stepped toward me.

  My hands were shaking as he came closer; each step seemed to take days as I waited for him to be within striking range. I wanted to throw the weapon but knew even if I managed to hurt, him there were seven other mermen I would have to face defenseless.

  Just a few feet in front of me he raised his arm, I waited, ready to slash him when the arm got closer, but instead his other hand shot out and knocked the dagger from my grip. The sudden jolt rattled my teeth and I looked up just in time to see the blades flashing toward me and a hard slice slit across my left shoulder. I gasped loudly, too afraid to scream, and my legs buckled sending me to the ground, clutching my left shoulder which oozed blood over my fingers.

  “Now would you like to tell me where he is?” Bolrock’s voice held no hint of laughter anymore. He was the torturer, and I was the victim. Air went in and out of my mouth in raspy gasps, the pain shooting up and down my arm was excruciating, but I knew Bolrock was very well skilled in methods of torture. He had cut me in a place that wouldn’t hit any major veins. It wasn’t deep enough to kill.

  “Where is he?” he said again, and a hard fist pounded into my right shoulder knocking me to the ground, I moaned in pain when the injured one hit the dirt. For a moment my vision was gone, but it came back suddenly. I was on the ground with my face in the grass, I rolled slightly so I could see Bolrock above me. His presence was dominating and fear of being weaponless and totally alone flooded my veins, spreading to every part of my body.

  Slowly, he lowered himself down closer to me and his forearms rested on his knees. The blades had retracted back into his arms, but I stared at them with wide eyes, waiting for their reappearance.

  “Do you want to know why I am doing this?” Bolrock asked, his voice gruff in the dark night. I didn’t respond, but he continued anyway. “Unlike some of the other Hyven, I don’t agree with every single plan Morven fabricates. I don’t know where he got this idea to create a siren and warrior, but he seems to think it is the only way to win. I think different.”

  My gaze lifted to the face that was now closer, it was serious, the eyes looking at me as strands of pale blonde hair rippled in the soft wind. When my eyes finally met his crystal blue pupils he spoke once more.

  “But for years we searched for the perfect girl to transform, and somehow Morven stumbled upon you.” Flashbacks of the night Morven found me in the storm flooded my mind, I pushed them aside trying to concentrate on what he was telling me. “Funny isn’t it, you were soon lost too? Morven thought he had you under his control, but he didn’t. He should have stopped the moment he realized you weren’t old enough.” Bolrock chuckled to himself, although no one else joined him in his mirth this time. I wondered if they could even hear what he was saying.

  “Morven has always been under the impression he has a hold on you and Zale. But I knew different. When he thought Zale was finally ready to run missions, he was wrong.” Bolrock’s hands tightened and his jaw clenched. Somehow, the many times Zale had warned me about Bolrock rose in a new light. It was obvious they had merit, but I would never have believed Bolrock was more dangerous than Morven. “Zale was working against him from the beginning. There was never a moment when he was truly Morven’s.”

  In spite of my predicament, I remembered what Zale had told me about his anger and how he could control it. I had always thought of Zale as Morven’s puppet, doing whatever he was told. Now it seemed there was more to the story than I had perceived.

  “He would disappear,” Bolrock continued, “for days at a time and come back with some story about how he couldn’t find you because the Lathmorians had hid you so well. Or he would say he had found some lead that took him to some far off place. Finally, I grew tired of his lies and Morven’s belief, that’s when I sent five of my men to bring you back.”

  Shivers fluttered down my spine. That night in Coveside, on the beach, lived in my every nightmare.

  “Just as I presumed, they didn’t return, and Zale was nowhere to be found.” A strange look passed over Bolrock’s face, it was as though he wanted to smile at his cunning but couldn’t find the energy to do so. “When he did return, I confronted him and we argued. So when he left again, I sent some men after him. When he arrived near your home waiting for you, well, he got a little battered in the process.” He moved his hands, cracked his knuckles and I swallowed heavily. This was the creature responsible for the cuts and gashes in Zale’s body, the night I went to prom. Just thinking of all the blood, sent a chill through my spine and I pressed my hand harder against the wound on my shoulder.

  “I realized then, what Morven could never see,” his voice grew deeper, the hatred spilling from his lips. “I’d thought Zale was in charge of his own actions, but it wasn’t him. It was you.”

  The icy blue eyes snapped into focus, glaring at me. I stared back in surprise.

  “You’re more cunning than the rest of us, and it’s time you start owning up to your choices.” He unfolded his body gradually, until he reached his full height, again proving the dominance he had over me. “I found you because I know of your pathetic love for that messed up creature. And I knew you would be right here, in the place where you hoped he would remember.”

  Stunned by his words, I couldn’t understand what he had meant, how could he have known where to find the island? None of the Hyven knew the location.

  “I do have to say,” he said, and his arms flexed, “it’s a pleasure to have the privilege of dealing with both you and Patrick.”

  My eyes widened and my nostrils flared at his words as I sat up, my knees awkwardly bent beneath my body. The blood from my wound seeped between my fingers.

  “Yes,” he chuckled delighted by my reaction. “That morbid beast you claim to love is all my doing. Do you want to know the details?”

  Frantic to not hear any more of this, I could think of nothing to do but what Zale had told me. A stick lay near me on the ground and I picked it up quickly, happy to see it had a rather sharp point. With the snapping wrist I had been t
aught to use, I threw the stick at Bolrock hoping it would lodge in his throat. Instead, he simply ducked out of the way and again chuckled, this time the other soldiers joined in.

  “At least you fight better than he did,” a small smile made his eyes glint eerily. “Oh, he fought for a while, but once he thought you were dead, he gave up. Too bad you only thought of yourself when you escaped that night.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled, breaking my silence.

  “Why?” he cocked his head to the side, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s the truth. He was able to take it all, day in and day out, until he thought you were dead.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized my worst fears were true. I remembered that moment in the castle when the alarm of my escape had been raised, I had stood hesitating, not sure of what to do, and then I left. It was to escape and come back to save him, only Morven had worked quicker than I ever could. For by our return, Patrick had erased all memory of me. He had given up because he thought I was gone, he had let himself go because I didn’t take the chance to let him know I was alive and I was to blame for it all.

  A solid knot wedged into my throat and I tried to hold back the wet pressure just behind my eyes. Bolrock laughed again, and my trembling lip gave away all my efforts to show his words caused me no pain.

  I moved unsteadily to my feet and set my jaw. “Why?” I spit out.

  “Why, what?” The voice returned to its deep tone, the one that sent chills up my spine.

  “Why now?” I said, rising up to the challenge in his voice. “You could’ve come for me when I was home, but you didn’t.”

  I looked hard at his face, wanting to see if the next words he spoke were true. His face toughened and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t tell me.

  “Because I wouldn’t have the proof I need to show he was betraying us. But when he didn’t show up after the battle at Lathmor, I went to Morven, and he finally came to reason. He sent me to bring him back. You are a thing of the past, Lissie. We’ll get you eventually, but for now you’re going to tell me where he is.”

  Rather than lie to his face, I simply glared at him. I knew more pain would follow but I didn’t care. What he had said about Patrick was enough for me to no longer care about physical pain. My soul felt as though it had been ripped and shattered into thousands of pieces, but as I tried to breathe the pieces gathered back together only to split once more when I thought of what I had done. I glared back at Bolrock, knowing the wound he had given me would be carried forever in my heart.

  “I guess I’ll find out in a moment or two,” he said in response to my silence and his fist hit me across the face sending me sprawling onto the ground. My vision darkened and for a moment bright flashes covered my eyes. Blood filled my mouth and I spit it out onto the ground. The next blow hounded my back, and then it was my ribs, then my back, my head, my legs, and on and on. I held strong, not giving him the pleasure of hearing my pain, I bit my lip to keep quiet and knew my teeth were cutting into my flesh.

  He paused and I thought he might give me some rest, but then his fist collided with my wounded shoulder and I screamed in agony. The pain blinded me, throwing me into a world of shadows. I heard sounds of torture and somewhere in my mind I knew it was my own voice screaming. But before my eyes all I could see was Patrick tied to the dungeon wall, his back flowing with blood and Bolrock whipping him over and over again. He struggled against the restraints, his entire body shaking with pain and I cried out his name, knowing I was the reason for it.

  Suddenly it all stopped and my vision cleared, Patrick disappeared once more from my sight but that didn’t matter. What I had seen was burned in my mind.

  A rough hand tugged on my hair to raise my face. “Where is he?” A voice entered my ears and I tried to think of where I had heard it. Slowly, my brain brought me back to reality. Shivering on the ground, I turned my face and met the eyes of my torturer. I stared at him knowing he would hurt me even more, but I didn’t care. Some part of me had died inside.

  Again, Bolrock waited for me to talk but I locked my jaw. Anger flashed across his face and he threw my head down. I waited for the next blows to begin, but they didn’t come. Instead, I watched as he walked a few feet away and picked up something off the ground. When he turned around, my eyes widened in horror. He held my dagger in his hand.

  Deliberately, he lifted it above my head and I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the cuts that were about to be slashed across my already bruised body. But at that precise moment, a loud crack resounded in the night air and Bolrock cried out in pain.

  My eyes flashed open and I tried to see what had happened. Bolrock no longer held the dagger, and his back was to me as were all the other soldiers’. Through the fog of my mind, I watched their blades appear suddenly from their arms. They twitched at the slightest of sounds, slowly making a half circle to protect each other.

  My heart still pounded heavily, and I tried to figure out what was going on. Through the confusion in my clouded brain there was a faint recall of this happening before, but I couldn’t remember when. My ears were still ringing from the cries of pain I had heard from Patrick, and I couldn’t seem to shake them from my mind.

  As my vision cleared, I watched a new form come into focus on the edge of the clearing as Zale slowly stepped out from the cover of the trees. He stood directly opposite me, the mask of the warrior in place. Dizzy and disoriented, I knew he was there to save me and a small prick of relief entered my heart.

  Without a word, the whip flashed in Zale’s hand and cut into one of the soldier’s faces. The merman cried out in agony and fell to the ground with his palms pressed to his head. Again the whip cracked over and over, the Hyven were dodging the blows but some had been stung by its leather, and strips of red ran down their skin. Some began to throw knives at him, but he moved as though a shadow they couldn’t pierce.

  They tried to come at him as one, but he kept them at bay with the whip. With precision, he would single one out with the whip and cut him down with a thrown dagger before the others had a chance to attack.

  Only four were left standing and they surrounded him, making sure to stay out of the way of the cracking whip. In a swift move, one of the soldiers ran at him when his back was turned and the battle suddenly became hand to hand combat. With each slice of the blades I feared for Zale’s life. But when one merman fell down with a gaping wound in his neck, a small bubble of hope built within me. The fight before me was a dance of desperation and skill. He sliced and cut his way through the soldiers and they crippled around his feet.

  The numbers seemed to dwindle quickly, but when there were only two left, Bolrock left his position in front of me and ran in, to join the fight. It was vicious and I knew Zale was taking a beating, fresh blood smeared down his chest but whether it was his own or that of his enemies, I couldn’t say.

  In the heat of the battle, I watched Bolrock fall to the ground. I raised my head a little and he caught my eye. Struggling to his feet, he limped over to me. A cut around his ear created a stream of blood down the side of his face and over his neck. I tried to move away as he came closer, but the pain in my body was too much. All I managed to do was back myself into a tree.

  Before I could scream in protest, he grabbed me, yanking me from the ground, I cried out in pain when the movement jostled my shoulder. He pulled me up against his chest and again I wanted to yell, but stopped when I felt the hard chilling press of his blades against the right side of my neck.

  Together we watched as Zale dispatched the rest of the Hyven soldiers. Their bodies crumpled to the ground along with the others, but the warrior that stood in the center of them all, remained unfazed. His eyes rose to where he knew his enemy stood and as much as I wanted him to look at me, he didn’t even glance at my face.

  “I knew you’d come,” the deep voice throbbed against my head, slightly out of breath as he spit out his words.

  Zale didn’t acknowledge the words. He remained where he stood, looking
at Bolrock with blood menace. Bolrock shifted behind me.

  “Speak to me!” He screamed, his voice almost hysterical. “I knew you were it! You were the reason we were failing. You never deserved to live, I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. But Morven wouldn’t listen to me.”

  At the mention of Morven, Zale’s nostrils flared, but that was the only hint of emotion he gave. Rather than respond to Bolrock’s words, Zale turned and walked across the grassy hearth and bent over to the ground. The sight of his back only showed that some of his wounds had reopened but he gave no sign as to feeling them. He picked up my dagger that had flown across the clearing when his whip had hit Bolrock’s hand earlier. His knuckles turned white as he grasped it tightly.

  “You throw that and she dies,” Bolrock spit and yanked me closer to his body. I felt the blades press harder against my neck and I tried to pull away, but he held my head steady.

  Zale pursed his lips while looking at the blade in his hand. He seemed relaxed and in control, as though nothing could go wrong. The only hint of stress was the way he gripped the dagger, the hand was clinging to it tightly, as though it was all he could do to control himself. Still, the warrior didn’t speak; instead he examined the blade as if waiting for something.

  “Why won’t you speak to me?!” Bolrock yelled with definite fear in his voice, something I’d never heard before.

  Still looking at the blade Zale finally spoke, his voice as calm as his stance. “You should know.” His eyes snapped to Bolrock’s and a slight shift in his hand made me glance at the way he was holding it. His knuckles were no longer white, the dagger was lightly caressed in his fingers, and I knew what was coming.

  In a split second the blade was raised next to his shoulder and he threw it just the way he had taught me. It flew through the air and I ducked my head to the left even though I knew the throw would be nowhere near me.

  A strangled, gargled sound filled my ears and Bolrock’s arms fell from around me, his blades clipping my side as he fell. I tried to stand on my own feet but collapsed to the ground in a pile of exhausted limbs and gasping breaths. I refused to look at the body that lay crumpled on the ground to my right, but from the corner of my eye I could see the wooden hilt of the dagger lying next to the severed, pale head.