Ilyan (An Imdalind Story)

by Rebecca Ethington

  “Father… he…” Ovailia’s broken answer faded away as she did, her image dissolving into dust and air, the scent of her blood lingering.

  “What did he do to you?” I heard my growl, heard the anger, but the motion was gone, the moment was gone. The voice had come from outside of me, filtered from a memory that had occurred years before on the same porch I now stood on.

  The same porch, the blood nothing more than a stain on my soul as I looked past stairs to the rocky coastline that stretched before me.

  As far as I could see the ocean kissed the sand before stretching away in the brightest blue before it faded into sky leaving me surrounded by a dome of sand and sky. The long lines of color were broken up by the brush that grew close to the water, their thick strands swaying in a warm breeze that carried the ocean chill on its back. They rocked in time with the waves, the sound calm as a few grey headed gulls called out loudly, diving down to the surf in a graceful landing.

  The memory of before had left, the tension and pain washed away by the crashing waves as I stepped toward the peaceful beach. I longed for it, for the water, to sit against one of the deep red rocks that was nestled into bright white sand. Everything about it was serene, including the woman that stood yards away from me, her dark hair blowing in the breeze.

  She was beautiful, standing there, walking in the sand toward me. A smile spread across her face as she saw me, her joy plunging through me as if it was my own. It infected me, until my smile was as wide as the one that matched her face.

  She was glowing, a light spreading from her as she ran, stumbling in the sand multiple times until she fell, her laugh drifting on the breeze to meet me.

  The sound was infectious, the way she rolled over and laughed at herself swelling through me. I loved this woman. There was no question.

  With a sigh, I ran to her. Her laugh continued as I reached her, sitting over her and fighting the need to bring her into me. My shadow stretched over her as the laugh faded, leaving only that amazing glow and a heart-stopping smile.

  “Why do I have a feeling you have done that before?” I asked the question as it came to me, surprised when I had full control of the words.

  I was able to talk, able to move. It was something that had never happened when I was locked in memory. Only in dreams. I didn’t know which this was, I had been here with her before. This beach was the same as in our dreams. But the way it felt, the way everything moved.

  It was more than that.

  “I can speak to you…” I gasped as the words in my mind flowed free, fighting the temptation to pinch myself.

  “Have you not been able to?” she asked in a whisper, her fingers sending an electric jolt through me as they grazed my jawline.

  “No,” I said, sinking into the sand beside her. “It's all been… memories…”

  “Memories of me?” She asked, the playfulness dripping from her coy smile.

  “Just memories,” I replied wishing I could just tell her yes, that they all had been of her and not this painful tragedy of a life I had lived.

  “So, you haven't remembered yet?” Her eagerness was clear, it dripped from her eyes as she sunk into the sand, her hand falling from my face.

  “I know who you are,” I whispered to her, taking a chance and reaching out to her, touching her face, running my fingers over the jaw, down her neck. “Does anything else matter.”

  “So much does. You don’t even know who you are.” She stopped my movement, wrapping her fingers around my own and pressing my palm below her collarbone. Her heartbeat was right there, I could feel it fluttering against my hand, feel the warmth of her.

  This beautiful woman was right here with me. Having her so close, being able to talk to her, it stole my breath.

  “You don’t know what you are.”

  The words struck home, the truth almost paralyzing.

  “You could tell me,” I taunted, fighting the desire to just lean over and kiss her. “You could tell me who I am, and what all these memories mean…”

  “Můj navždy,” she sighed, the words sounding odd coming from her for some reason. “I cannot tell you what you do not know… I am only here from your memory.”

  “So, this is all a dream,” the words echoed the devastation that pulled through me, the smile that played on her lips hammering it into me more.

  I pulled my hand away as I fell into the sand, the rough granules uncomfortable as they dug into my skin. She was here, right here, this couldn’t just be a dream.

  “If it is a dream, is it all that bad?” The sound of the waves nearly washed out her voice, the steady rhythm of the foam matching the way she touched me, the way her hands moved over my skin.

  The sound, the touch, it brought a bit of a relaxation. It numbed the devastation somehow, it made it easier to bare. Something about the way she warmed me, the way her touch electrified me familiar.

  Everything about this was familiar.

  “Joclyn,” I sighed, loving that I was able to say her name. That I could lay next to her, that I could touch her arm. In a way, it made the dream-scape matter a little less.

  Sighing deeply, I relaxed into the sand, watching the way my fingers trailed over her skin, watching her shiver under my touch.

  “Do you remember the first time we were here?” She whispered, the words sounding more like a taunt now I knew where she came from. Where this all came from.

  I didn’t remember. Not fully.

  “No,” I gasped, my heart tensing as the electricity in her touch began to change.

  “I remember,” she whispered as she pressed her forehead against mine, snuggling into me as the light around us faded to darkness, the sand softening into blankets and pillows.

  She didn’t move, she remained against me, curled into me as she slept, her breath hot against my bare chest.

  Joclyn. I tried to ask the question, but no words came, just the roar of a thunderstorm, the smell of rain as it drifted over us, sweeping me back into memory.

  I breathed it in, loving the way it mixed with her smell, loving this moment.

  Loving this woman.

  The emotion was so strong I could barely restrain it. It was the same I felt when I lay in the hospital, this need - this want of her.

  The memory that I was trapped in pulled her closer, her arms wrapping around me as her fingers dug into my back, holding me as tight to her as I did.

  The mood had changed so much from before. The playfulness of the beach was gone. While there was this love, this passion, that I felt every time I thought of her, there was also a tension that I couldn’t quite place.

  The two emotions blended together, fighting for the stronger position in my heart. Nothing could quench the love, however.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  Her voice was quiet, frightened. It sapped the passion from the moment in a second, the tension bubbling to the surface.

  “Do not be afraid, my love. Know that I will be here. I will protect you.” My words were muffled as if they had come from thought instead of spoken.

  I wished I could say them louder, I wished I could scream them loud enough she would never forget. Instead, I pressed her against me.

  Death. Protection. The words blended with every other little thing I didn’t know, making me desperate to remember. I had seen her die in one of my memories, but I had also seen that image of her by the river, Ryland running behind her, both of them very much alive.

  She nestled into me more as the room filled with the thud of a knock, the sound causing both of us to jump.

  “It’s time, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Sain,” I sighed in response, pressing my lips into Joclyn’s hair as I kissed her.

  I clung to her for one more beautiful moment before I pried myself away. My hand ran over her arm as I rolled out of bed, the wooden floor cold under my feet.

  A long snake of a golden ribbon trailed over the bed behind her, the glimmering thread weaving through her hair and into the
intricate flowers I had seen before. The ribbon. The same one from the pictures of her and I in Prague, the one Ryland was trying to give her beside the Vltava.

  The ribbon left my vision as my memory turned away from her, the pain of curiosity spiking as I stepped away. There was more to see here, more to ask, but I only continued to walk away from her, no matter how hard I tried to push otherwise.

  No! The word exploded in my mind as I fought, desperate to see the ribbon, desperate to ask. I tried to will the bedroom back into existence, but instead of the room, the world caught on fire.

  I no longer stood shirtless in the middle of an ornate bedroom, I ran next to a woman in a hoodie, the gold ribbons trailing from both us as we ran through the flames. The love of before had swelled into a protective need, the wave of power that rippled through me directed right toward Joclyn, surrounding both of us in a shield. Controlling the power with the slightest thought, we ran, my mind moving fast as I attempted to find something familiar and figure out what was going on.

  Before I could gather my bearings a sharp pain pulled up my arm, bones and nerves jumped painfully as I stumbled to a stop. Joclyn turned to me with wide eyes, her hand clenching her forearm in a sure sign that she had felt it too.

  “What was that?” She asked, her face growing hard.

  “Something has happened. Wyn has deviated from the plan,” my voice was a growl as I looked away from her to the burning tree’s behind us as if the person I spoke of was about to burst through them.

  “They are headed into an ambush; they can’t fly as you commanded them.” Joclyn’s voice was hollow behind me, although I recognized it as her, there was a darkness there that I didn’t expect.

  It frightened me, although the emotions from the memory did not match. There was only concern.

  Opening my mouth to speak, it came again, the pain sharp and violent as an older woman’s voice whispered through the flames, the broken sound full of static. “You are going to want the 10a for this, that’s most common for straight cuts like this.”

  My memory shifted as I turned toward Joclyn, expecting to see someone else, but it was only her, standing in the dark. The world around us had gone, taking the war-ravened girl I had expected with it.

  The braid was gone. The hoodie was gone. She stood in the middle of the dark with me, her hair tangled around her face as she stared with a look so intense I stepped back in expectation of fight or injury.

  “Can you see me?” she asked as my arm exploded once again, my whole body jerking at the agony that ran from wrist to shoulder.

  “That’s perfect, now you see how I am cleaning here, the tiny pats here…” The same distant hollow of the woman's voice echoed from behind me, louder this time. Although no one was there, it was still just Joclyn and I standing in the dark.

  “You need to remember,” Joclyn pleaded, her voice as intense as her stare.

  “I don’t know how to do that, Joclyn,” I pleaded as the pain came again, the jolt of pain causing me to call out in a soft scream.

  “Yet,” she whispered, answering the thought as she stepped closer. “You don’t remember yet.”

  The pain in my arm spiked and I jerked, looking down to the limb in expectation of blood and bone, but nothing was there, not even the burned skin on my palm.

  I stared at it as the pain grew, the agony broken by the soft touch of her lips against my cheek. I closed my eyes at the feeling, at the way it drowned everything out and sent me into a whirl of pleasure. I turned to grab her, desperate to return the touch, to return the kiss, but she had gone. I was surrounded by darkness.

  The pitch swallowed me as the pain grew, whispered words drifting on the back of the agony.

  “Go slower, make sure you are letting the skin stay loose to prevent micro cuts.” The pain grew as the older woman's voice did.

  “You will find me,” Joclyn whispered through the pain, “You know where you have to look.”

  “Softer there…” the woman said again, the pain that was ripping through me swelling. Everything felt like it was being ripped apart.

  My arm felt like it was being ripped from me.

  The darkness left as my eyes pulled open to the long overhead light I had stared at for so long, and the scream that was trapped inside of me finally broke free.

  “Layno!” The expletive joined my scream as hands pressed against my shoulders, shoving me back onto the bed.

  The pain didn’t leave no matter how much I screamed. It only burned more, the agony joined by the warm heat of my own blood as it ran over my skin. The hands pressed harder as I fought them, desperate to escape the pain, to escape the heat as my magic began to spark dangerously.

  Threatening to explode.

  I needed to control it before that happened. Unlike my memories, I couldn’t seem to grab hold, it slipped away, the faint sparks that shot from my fingers causing whoever was in the hospital room with me to call out in fear.

  “Sedate him, Mother!”

  I tried to move away from the magic, away from the hands that held me down. Although the restraints that had been my prison for so long were gone, I still couldn’t move. The cold fluid that was rushing through my veins was doing its job.

  I was back. I had returned right to that moment. To that woman. Nastya. Screaming as I fought, I tried to let the magic out, but with the drugs that now poured through me I couldn’t call more than a few bright sparks of light. I couldn’t fight.

  Everything slowed down as I screamed once more, the sound, I realized, muffled by another intubation tube.

  “Jan!” A woman hissed from beside me, a dark shape obstructing the light as she moved over me. “Jan, you have to shut up.”

  “I can’t give him more,” the older woman hissed, another flush of cold moving through me.

  “Jan,” The younger woman hissed, her shape beginning to come into focus, the light framing her like a haunting angel. “You need to calm…”

  “Kaye,” I yelled in recognition, but the word was as trapped as the scream, my mouth open wide from the tube.

  It was her, although I could instantly tell she had aged, yet again. Her hair was short, the dark frizzy curls cut unevenly. The loss of hair made her freckles more prominent, the nut brown color of her eyes digging into me. Seeing the young woman above me frightened me, the loss of time evident just in the maturity and fight the girl had gained.

  “Welcome back,” she whispered, squeezing her hand against my shoulder.

  Given the precious memories I had just regained, and the strength of the love I had left, I knew I should shy away from the touch. I couldn’t, however, there was too much comfort in it.

  I tried to exhale, but the oxygen that was being pumped in and out of me refused the release, leaving me trapped under the tubes and machines that had been my life.

  “Can you…” I began to ask, but the words burned my throat, cutting me off.

  “We can’t take the tubes out,” Kaye responded with a glance to whoever else was in the room, her mother I realized. Katenka.

  I began to freak out at her response, but she stopped me with one wave of her hand, her eyes glaring into me.

  “Yet,” she said, the use of the word tugging at my heart. “We aren’t supposed to be in here-- If we remove the tube now we will all be in trouble.”

  She didn’t need to say anymore.

  I stared at her, trying to ask a thousand questions with my eyes. She only caught one.

  “It’s been two and a half years,” she whispered, her hand soft against my jaw. “You’ve been gone two and a half years.”

  12

  Two and a half years.

  How could that be? I had just been dreaming, I had just left the torture chamber that Nastya and her purple star had created. I could still feel the burn roll through me, feel the heat on my temples.

  I stared at her, blinking, as I attempted to speak again, to ask any of the million questions that were screaming in my mind. Nothing made it past the massi
ve tube that had been shoved down my throat, the constant hacking and gasping causing the flesh to burn more.

  “Don’t try to speak,” Kaye said as she stepped away from me, toward Katenka. “It will just hurt more.”

  Kaye’s face was lined with worry as her and her mother stood by my side, focused on my arm and whatever had been causing the pain. I watched them curiously, my drugged thoughts trying to piece together what was going on.

  Confusion spiked as I lay there, eyes wide as I groaned at her, desperately trying to convey the question I needed answered. At this point, I would settle for the opportunity to understand anything.

  “We have to be gone before the hour ends and the guard changes,” she hesitated, giving her mother a look before she turned back to me, pushing her short hair out of her eyes.

  She fixed me with a look with so much power, so much knowledge, that for a moment I hadn’t recognized her. I had seen her grow so much before, as we plotted through the night attempting to figure out who I was. To master my magic. Then she was worn in fear, grown in desperation.

  Now, there was knowledge. There was power. It was a different kind of war-born maturity that dominated her now. There was a fight that I was sure was a deep part of who she was. She was a different girl than the friend I had seen hours before my magic had exploded and Nastya had…

  The panic swelled again and I grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to me as my eyes screamed for answers. I wasn’t going to wait much longer and although I may not be able to order her around or make demands, I was certainly going to try.

  The man I was in memory was certainly seeping through.

  “I don’t know what I can tell you, Jan,” she sighed, pressing her hand against mine, her thumb rubbing against my skin.

  It was then I pulled away, the contact sending me into a roar of frustration.

  “Don’t be upset. I want to tell you everything,” I wished I could tell her that it wasn’t her words that had caused my reaction. “I just don’t have time… and I don’t know what they are going to do when they find out you are awake. If you know too much it could hurt both of us. I have my papers now, but I still don’t belong here.”