Octavia
I had no idea where I was.
Ka-lik’et had disappeared behind me a long time ago, and all I could see in any direction were dunes. There wasn’t even marked plant-life to indicate my location like there’d been on the way to the oasis. The only thing I had to use as some form of compass was the moon, and even that was tricky.
Either Ola knew exactly where she was taking me or she simply didn’t care where we were going because she marched behind me with the point of her knife poking into my shoulder blade without pausing for a second to look around or backtracking at all. Every so often, she barked an order to turn left or hurry up, but, other than that, she was silent. The only thing I could hear from her was heavy, labored breathing, though we weren’t walking extremely quickly.
Several times, I tried to start a conversation with her. Years of watching crime shows on TV and reading crime novels had taught me a victim’s best chance to escape safely was to endear his or herself to the captor. If I humanized (no pun intended) myself to her, I could appeal to her emotions and possibly walk away from this ordeal with only the trauma of her assault to manage. She wasn’t having it, though. Every time I asked her what her name was, even though I already knew it, or told her mine or tried to put a personality behind the body in any way, she gave me a sharp poke with the blade and told me to be quiet. I felt like I was being taken to my death, that wherever we ended up would have a noose or a guillotine waiting for me.
The first sign I saw of something other than heaping sand piles was a blackness at the bottom of a dune. As we drew nearer, I realized it wasn’t an unnatural abundance of black sand or mold or something of that sort; it was a hole. A hole in a dune. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, as logic dictated the sand would continue refilling the hole, but I started to see crust-like edges around the gap and discovered the dune wasn’t actually a dune at all but a sand-covered rock formation. The puzzle pieces began fitting together. She was taking me to this cave.
“Go,” she directed when we were only feet from the mouth.
I really didn’t want to enter for an abundance of reasons, not in the least because I was sure there was no happy ending waiting for me inside. I was also unnerved at the cavern’s utter blackness. It was like looking at a solid, matte canvas an artist had painted over out of frustration. Part of me even believed I’d walk right into a surface if I tried to enter. Whatever lingered inside was well-hidden behind the thick shadows, and I didn’t relish the thought that could be walking straight into a beast’s nest or a tribe of cannibalistic A’li-uud. Or nothing. I could be walking into nothing, and that was terrifying in its own right.
“Go!” she barked again. I felt the sting of the blade jabbing my shoulder, and I stumbled forward against my will.
Nothing roared and toppled me over when I stepped out of the moonlight into the darkness, but my skin prickled with chills the way it does when sensing a spirit or feeling someone’s stare. I tried opening my eyes as wide as they would go to see better. It was a futile effort, of course. No human eyes were strong enough to see through what I would categorize as vaporized coal.
Ola’s hand shoved into the back of my neck, and I tripped over my own feet. As I fell, my palms raked a cool, uneven floor, and I felt tiny pebbles embed themselves into my skin. I cried out in pain. A foot swung out of nowhere and connected with my ribs, and I dropped onto my front with a grunt.
“What do you want?” I groaned, clutching my side. “Why did you bring me here?”
“That is my own concern.” Her voice, just like her foot, came out of nowhere, but it gave me an indication where she was standing. I log-rolled twice in the opposite direction to put some extra space between us.
“Are you going to kill me?” I asked. I tested my wrists, putting the weight of my upper body on them to hoist myself an inch or two off the stone ground.
She made a noise much like a snicker. “If I must.”
“Well…” I pushed myself onto my knees and tried to slow my reckless breathing. “What’s the determining factor?”
What I actually wanted to ask her was if she could please, please not kill me and if she could please, please just let me go and I’d swear never to tell anyone if she’d only let me go home. If I panicked, though, I was bound to either say something I’d regret or do something I’d regret more. It seemed in my best interest to force myself into composure.
“You see, that is the genius part of this plan,” she answered slyly. “My dear brother will get to decide if you live or die.”
“I don’t understand,” I coughed. It sounded like there wasn’t a decision for Venan to make at all. He might have been the most mysterious creature I’d ever met, but I definitely knew him well enough to know he’d decide in favor of my life without a second’s thought.
Ola was next to me suddenly. I didn’t hear any footsteps, but I felt her presence. The warmth from her skin radiated to mine, which caused a shiver as the coldness of the stone beneath me met her heat. When she spoke, her voice was directly above my head. “It is actually quite simple, simple enough for even a human to understand,” she cooed. She sounded like a cat playing with a mouse, riddled with restrained excitement and prepared to pounce at any moment. “I want my family. Venan wants you. If he gives me back my family, I give you back to him. Either we both win, or we both lose.”
“Don’t you think you’d have more luck getting what you want if you just talked to him?” I asked timidly.
She made another noise, this one like a scoff, and snapped, “You truly are a dim-witted race if you believe me to be so foolish as to overlook an option like that.” Something cracked me across the head, and I saw stars, but I forced myself to remain upright on my knees to better protect myself if I was going to meet any more onslaughts. “Of course, I tried talking to him. Twice. Do you know what happened? He turned me away. Twice. We are past talking.”
“Maybe he just needs more time—”
“He has had enough time!” she roared. Echoes at earsplitting volume reverberated back to me, and I was crushed under an instant headache. “Have you any idea how long I have let him wallow in his hatred? How long I have let all of them wallow in their hatred? You were not even a thought in your mother’s feeble mind!”
The mention of my mother sent a series of hot, zapping sparks through me, and I was filled with quick indignation. I shoved myself onto my feet. It was still too dark to see anything, but the entrance to the cave was visible with moonlight, and I could make out Ola’s silhouette against the illuminated backdrop.
“Don’t mention my mother,” I said tightly.
She laughed aloud, and, again, it was like having pots and pans banged around my face. “Is family a sore topic for you, too?” she asked, her syllables drawn out and patronizingly babyish.
“Yes,” I said coolly, “and for many of the same reasons you have.”
“Oh, is that so? Your mother refuses to have anything to do with you because of a mistake you made half a lifetime ago?”
“No, my mother’s dead,” I replied. I heard Ola’s breathing still. “But I disappointed her. A lot. And I’m still paying the price for it today. The difference is I’m the one punishing myself instead of being punished by her.”
She didn’t say anything right away, and a swell of hope lit in my heart. Maybe I was getting through to her. Maybe I had a chance.
My hope was dashed before the thought could leave my head. “Poor thing,” she said dryly. “You are so uninformed. We are nothing alike, you see. I still have an opportunity to right things with my family. Your opportunity is in its grave. But fret not, simple human, for you have a new opportunity now. You get to be a part of a family’s reunion! Unless my brother decides not to cooperate, in which case you get to be a part of a family’s demise. Now, get on the ground.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Venan
My feet were flying across the sand so fast they were little more than a blur when I looked down to ensure I woul
d not trip over any wayward rocks or sprouting foliage. I could not feel my heartbeat anymore, either because it was thumping so fast it was imperceptible or because it had stopped entirely and I was on the verge of dropping dead at any second. There were only two things of which I was aware: Ola had Octavia, and I needed to find them.
In the rare cases when an A’li-uud became a fugitive, warriors were sent through the criminal’s city or village of residence. They started their search at the most obvious place—the offender’s home—and branched out from there to homes of family members and friends. If all those places turned up nothing, they would investigate every single house, business, and place of refuge until they either located the suspect or came up empty-handed. Only if a search of the city yielded no clues did they extend their hunt to the reaching desert because sustaining life as a runaway in the wild abyss of Dhal’at was widely known to be a nearly certain death sentence. The heat alone could kill someone if they were not outfitted with the proper sustenance and hydration, and that was a big enough risk to one’s survival without even taking into account the variety of hostile beasts and unvirtuous tribes who roamed the kingdom. Thus, my many years of training as a warrior should have taken me first to Ola’s house in the seedy ward of Ka-lik’et.
But I knew better.
For all her flaws, my sister was far from stupid. She knew her target, me, and what I had been taught to do in circumstances such as these. If she had taken Octavia to her home, she would have had to contend with not only me but the hoard of guards I would have brought. No, Ola did not lack in sense, and to follow procedure would only allow for more time to pass in which she could torture, maim, or kill her victim.
What I was certain she had overlooked in her careful predictions of my actions was my ability to carefully predict hers. We had not always been at odds; I had an entire childhood of memories, and a portion of my adulthood, to recollect and analyze. I knew Ola better than she thought I did, and better than I cared to know her, but it was to my advantage now because I had a destination in mind as I sprinted.
She was in the cave. I was sure of it.
The cave was located in a pseudo-dune northwest of Ka-lik’et, and it was somewhere I had become familiar with just before I began my career in the Dhal’atian militia. Ola had become rebellious in her adolescence and took up the habit of disappearing for days on end until Mother and Father were in such a state of panic they called upon Zuran and me to help find her. At the time, Zuran had been tangled in his own web of misbehaviors as he had just joined the Rogues and was constantly under Elder Kharid’s thumb for petty crimes, which left rescuing Ola from herself up to me. The first few attempts I made to discover her whereabouts were dead ends, so I waited outside the family home one night to watch her sneak out and follow her. She unknowingly led me to a small cave outside the city, buried within what appeared to be a dune but was actually one of the rock formations left over from an ancient time when Dhal’at was entirely underwater. I successfully brought her home that night, and many other nights to follow, but she consistently went back to that cave to socialize with other disobedient friends or simply isolate herself.
It was a miracle I remembered where it was, to be honest, I had been about half my current age when I had last ventured there, but I saw the telltale blip of blackness at the foot of a sand heap in the distance. Somehow, I finagled another burst of speed from myself and quickened my pace. I was all the more desperate to reach it now that it was within view.
I had tried to ward off the thoughts of Octavia’s fate, but I could not stop them from filtering into the recesses of my mind anymore. Terrible, sickening images of Octavia bloodied and battered with her body contorted in broken angles flashed before my eyes as clearly as the very landscape in front of me. I heard no screams emanating from the cavern, for which I was thankful, but the silence did not put to rest the ultimate fear gripping me at the core of my being: Octavia was dead.
“Ola!” I bellowed into the night. My voice had never sounded so deep, so commanding, so perfectly Elder-like. Thud, thud, thud… My boots crushed particles before the breeze had the chance to sweep them aside, and my anger had returned with a vengeance. “Show yourself!”
No one appeared at the mouth of the cavern as I ordered, but I was not deterred. As I reached the entrance, my eyes refocused and I saw Ola standing over Octavia’s body, which was lying like a plank on the ground. The fear tightened its hold in my gut, and I let out a thunderous snarl.
Ola watched me with a mixture of grotesque amusement and steady determination on her hollowed visage. “Hello, Wise One,” she said musically.
I stepped forward, allowing the cavern’s shadows to bathe me fully. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing. She is still very much alive.” Ola wound her foot back and thrust it into Octavia’s side, eliciting a whimper and a fluttering of lashes from the motionless girl. “See?”
“Let her go!” I barked, taking another step toward them.
“I must ask you to remain where you are, brother,” replied Ola. She spoke as casually and lightly as if we were discussing the pleasant weather of late. “For my safety and hers.”
Hatred had always been a word to exaggerate emotion, in my opinion, but I finally understood just what it meant to truly hold hate in one’s heart. As I looked upon the face of my sister, the same face I remembered from the day she was born, I felt no remorse or sorrow for the fractured state of our current relationship. I felt only loathing, hot and blistering and real. This was no longer the sister I had helped care for before she could care for herself. This was no longer the sister I lectured about developing responsible habits and surrounding herself with equally responsible friends. This was a monster, plain and simple, the evilest creature upon which I had ever bestowed a glimpse.
“Ola,” I said through gritted teeth. “I will say this only once more. Let her go.”
She cocked her head, challenging me, and I snapped. I leaped forward, soaring through the air, but with an impressive speed of her own Ola was on her knees. She had lifted Octavia’s head from the ground, and across the middle of the graceful neck I so dearly loved to kiss, she held a knife.
Chapter Forty-Six
Octavia
When I heard Ola’s name pierce through the silence in the cave, I recognized Venan’s voice at once and felt an immediate rush of relief. Everything would be okay now. He would make sure nothing happened to me.
“Close your eyes,” Ola snapped. “And do not move, or I will pierce this blade straight through your gullet.”
I did as she bid me, closing my eyes and becoming as still as I possibly could. It crossed my mind that she wanted me to appear dead for some reason, but that didn’t make sense if she wanted to use me as leverage to get Venan’s forgiveness. Then again, nothing about this situation made sense if her whole goal was forgiveness, but I supposed that was what separated the crazy people from the normal ones.
Listening to the sound of Venan growing nearer sent my stomach spiraling, although it was with relief rather than the lust I normally felt when he came near. But then, without warning, I was ripped upward like a ragdoll, and the cold blade was in my throat again. I deigned to open my eyes against my better judgment, desperate to see that Venan was still standing there and trying to rescue me.
He was.
“Come closer, brother,” Ola hissed. I could hear the awful, malicious smile in her voice. “Let us see who will triumph over the other.”
“Why have you done this?” Venan screamed the words with an irate rasp, but beneath them, I detected an ounce of pain I had not imagined he could feel any more toward his sister. “Why have you taken the path of destruction and forsaken the path to retribution?”
“There is no retribution for me!” Ola shrieked back. She sounded wild now, manic, and inherently unpredictable. In her fervor, she pressed the blade a little too deeply into my skin, and I felt a drop of hot liquid spill down my flesh to the divot of my collar
bone.
Realizing she had drawn blood, I decided to take a chance. If I remained silent and immobile as she had ordered, I would more than likely end up decapitated as the conversation between them continued. My only option was to disobey her, and I spoke.
“Venan,” I said meekly. “Listen to what she has to say.”
The pressure of the blade on my throat lessened, and Ola crowed triumphantly, “Yes, Venan, do what your plaything tells you!”
“I already know what you have to say, Ola,” he retorted icily. “And I have already given you my answer.”
“Please,” I pled, raising my voice slightly. “Please, Venan, just hear her out.”
“No!” Her hold on me stiffened, and I was suddenly dragged backward as she scampered in a crouch away from him. “No, no, no. If he is quite certain I am never to be reunited with those I love, so be it. I am happy to return the favor in kind.”
She raised the knife and brought it up over my head. I inhaled sharply, ready for the last few seconds of my life to come to an end, and she swooshed it down.
“Stop!” His shout echoed through the cavern in waves. I felt the rush of air from her swing, but no sharp pain took me. “Do not harm her! I will listen!”
I couldn’t see her, but I knew Ola was smiling. I could feel it in her aura, the pleased and smug smile she, Venan, and definitely Zuran were all capable of—though, hers was significantly more malevolent than those of her brothers. “Wonderful,” she said brightly. She may as well have been praising a crayon drawing from a kindergartener. “It is quite simple, really, and we have discussed it twice now. I want you to talk to Mother and Father, and Zuran as well if you so choose, to bring me back into the family.”
“I told you at the party I do not have the authority to order others to do anything for personal reasons,” came his stiff response. I begged him with my eyes to be more compliant to her. As unbalanced as she was, I wouldn’t have put it past her to get angry over a certain word he said and get revenge by plunging that knife into my heart without a moment of hesitation.
Venan: A Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 7 (The End) Page 22
