Forsaken (The Shadow Chronicles Book 3)

by K. R. Fajardo

  With trembling hands, Citera pressed around the edges of her eyes, searching for the swelling and tenderness that had been there before and was elated to discover it was gone. “Citera?” Daring to hope, Citera turned in the direction of her father’s worried voice and opened her eyes slowly. It took a few blinks to adjust to the brightness of the lights, but once they had, Citera’s heart skipped in delight to see her father’s tear streaked face staring back at her.

  “It worked!” She exclaimed, pulling him tightly into her arms. Overwhelmed with emotion, she held onto him with all her might, each of them basking in the feel of the other’s embrace. They remained that way for quite a while, until a slight movement behind them reminded her that they were not alone in the clinic.

  “Put it down Ivy, its ok.” She heard Janil speak, her voice frighteningly calm.

  Puzzled by the pacifying way Janil was speaking to the meek donor, Citera glanced over her shoulder and gasped when she saw Ivy only a few feet away with a bloodied knife tightly grasped in her hand. Pale and unmoving, she appeared to be in a state of shock, not even resisting when Janil yanked the knife free from her hold. Instead she continued to stare, unblinking at something on the floor.

  No, please no. Trembling, Citera leaned to peer over the opposite side of the bed praying she wouldn’t find what she was certain was there. “Dear heavens, no!” Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Citera leapt out of the bed and dropped to her knees beside Tyran’s unmoving body, engulfed in a pool of his own blood. “Ivy where did you stab him?” she asked as she frantically searched his body for a wound. “Ivy!’ Pushing up his shirt, she paused to stare up at the trembling girl. “Please Ivy.”

  “I-in his side, b-between his ribs.” She stammered, looking from him back to Citera. “T-they’re g-going to k-kill me.”

  Shaking her head, Citera raised one of Tyran’s arms and spotted the wound just as her father came to her assistance. “No one is going to kill you Ivy.”

  “We need to get him off this floor on the bed so I can get a better look at him.” Mikel interrupted. Applying pressure to the wound, he glanced up at Janil, who nodded and took off outside.

  “Dad, is he going to be alright?” Citera asked, tearing up as more and more blood pooled on the floor around them. Only seconds later Janil and two Full-bloods she had found on the path outside dashed into the room. The moment the pair’s gaze fell to Tyran’s bleeding body, both men’s eyes stretched wide.

  “Can you help us get him on the bed.” Mikel called, drawing their attention back to him and halting any questions they were about to ask. Blinking rapidly, the men considered him for a moment, before rushing forward and easily lifting Tyran’s limp body off the floor and placing it on the bed once occupied by Citera.

  “What else can we do to help?” one asked, frowning as he spotted the fresh pink scars on Citera’s wrist. Hurriedly she tucked it behind her, while Janil took over holding pressure on Tyran’s wound.

  “Nothing for now, just please don’t tell anyone what you have seen here.” Mikel answered as he hurriedly snatched supplies from around the room. Upon hearing his request, both men’s frowns deepened.

  “What exactly is it we have seen?” one asked lowly, his muscles instantly tensing. “Did he attack her? Is that why she has a new scar on her wrist?”

  “A better question would be how is it that she is back on her feet?” The other joined in. “We all saw what she looked like just two days ago, there is no way a Terrian healed that fast… not naturally anyway.”

  “First of all, no one attacked anyone!” Mikel snapped, halting to confront the looming giants.

  “Looks that way to me.” The largest of the two growled, motioning to Tyran. “Because I highly doubt he did that to himself.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Mikel stood his ground, “What happened here is a cluster of unfortunate events. Events that I would rather keep quiet until all the parties involved are back on their feet to explain their side of the story. Or do you want to set off a panic inside the camp by telling everyone that the Full-blood in charge of keeping us protected while the others are gone has been downed?”

  The men’s gaze flew from Mikel to Tyran’s body and back again. And as the reality of the situation settled in, they both shifted nervously.

  “Shit.” The smaller of the two breathed, running a shaky hand across the back of his neck. “This is bad.”

  “Fine, we will keep this quiet for now.” The larger one answered begrudgingly, “But if he isn’t back on his feet by the end of the week, we are going public with this. The people have a right to know we are unprotected.”

  “Understood.”

  Pacified for the moment, the two men turned and exited the tent, leaving Mikel and the others to get back to work. “Do you really think he will be awake in time?” Citera asked, joining her father at Tyran’s side.

  “I don’t know, but at least that buys us a little time to figure this all out.”

  Taking a pair of scissors, Mikel cut off Tyran’s shirt, exposing the well-defined torso underneath. Now with an unobstructed view of his chest, the urgency of the situation suddenly became all too clear as they all stood by and watched the once formidable man, struggle just to get enough air to feed his starving lungs. Running a hand down his face, Mikel grabbed a nearby bowl of water and poured it over the wound, cleaning away the enough of the blood to reveal a two inch gash between his ribs, just beneath his left arm. Standing back, Mikel’s face fell as he shook his head. “The knife punctured his lung.”

  “If that is the case, it won’t be long until his body gives out and he falls into the death sleep.” Janil responded solemnly, “He could be down for months or more if that happens.”

  Just then Tyran moaned. Blinking his eyes open, he turned his head to the side. “Citera.” He called, as a fit of coughing raked his massive frame. Gritting his teeth, he pressed a hand against his wounded side as a large amount of blood bubbled up from his throat and ran out the side of his mouth. “I-I’m sorry.” He spoke, forcing out the garbled words. “I-I don’t know w-what happened… I-I’ve never… p-please f-forgive me.”

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, Citera took his free hand into her grasp and held it tightly. “Don’t worry Tyran, it’s going to be ok, we will figure something out,” she sobbed.

  Squeezing her hand, he gave her a weak grin and slowly turned to face the other side of the bed. “Ivy.” He called to her softly, but the moment his eyes fell upon the trembling donor, his smile faltered and his eyes widened. “No Ivy d-don’t.” he breathed out the same time as another coughing fit racked his weakening body. More blood poured freely from his mouth, drowning the Full-blood in his own fluids until at last his chest surrendered its futile efforts and his entire body fell limp.

  Crying out, Citera turned into her father’s arms and buried her head into his chest. Moments later, she felt Janil’s arms wrap around them both.

  “Don’t worry my lord, I will make it right.” Ivy’s shaky voice sobbed, drawing all their attention back to her. Raising their gaze, they froze at the site of the long surgical scalpel pressed against her exposed wrist.

  “Ivy, what are you doing?” Janil asked, slowly edging her way around the bed, “Drop the blade.”

  “I can’t, they will kill me if I don’t make this right.” Holding her hands up in a surrendering gesture, Janil halted her advance when Ivy added enough pressure to her bared skin to make it bleed. “It was my failure that caused this, therefore it is my duty to make it right again.” Hardening her gaze, Ivy straightened her back, and donned the emotionless mask they had come accustomed to.

  “NO!” Citera screamed, as Janil rushed forward to stop her.

  As if in slow motion, Citera watched in disbelief as Ivy ran the blade cleanly from one side of her wrist to the other, releasing a steady flow of blood that trickled down her arm and pooled on the floor below.

  Snatching a cloth from a nearby table, Janil attempted to press it to the
open wound, only to have Ivy jerk it away and rush to Tyran’s side. Leaning over his body, she placed her bleeding wrist to his mouth. “Drink my lord, let me heal you.”

  “Ivy, stop this nonsense and give us your arm so we can help you.” Mikel shouted as he rushed around the bed. Grabbing ahold of her by the upper arm he attempted to pull her away, only to have Ivy latch tightly ahold of the bed rail as if her life depended on it. “No, he must live, that is the only way.”

  “Ivy he wouldn’t want you to do this!” Citera yelled rushing to her father’s side. Together they tried with all their might to drag the girl away from Tyran’s motionless corpse, but despite her continuing blood loss Ivy managed to continue to fight them off.

  “Step aside!” Janil shouted, startling both Citera and her father. Glancing over her shoulder Citera could see the matronly lady approaching with a syringe full of a clear liquid. Realizing what she was about to do, Citera jumped aside pulling her father with her. No sooner than they had cleared out of the way, then Janil rammed the long needle deep into the girl’s neck and injected her with the potent sedative. Instantly Ivy collapsed to the floor.

  With her finally incapacitated, Mikel rushed forward and scooped her limp body off the floor and placed it on the bed next to Tyran’s. Grabbing a clean rag off a nearby table, he pressed it tightly to her wrist to tourniquet the bleeding while Janil raced around to various cabinets gathering the supplies needed to stitch up the wound. Once she had gathered all she felt they would need, Janil joined Mikel’s side and together they went to work cleaning and stitching the gash in her wrist.

  Not wanting to get in their way, Citera hung back and watched as the two of them worked with synchronized precision to try and save the life of the poor girl who only moments ago risked it to save hers and Tyran’s. Instead Citera turned away from the bloody scene and turned her attention to the rest of the clinic in search of the one person she had yet to see, and so desperately needed to. Glancing around, her gaze immediately landed on a curtained off bed at the very back of the tent. Both needing to know and fearing what she would find, Citera rushed forward and halted just outside the white canvas wall. Drawing in a deep breath to calm her nerves, she took a moment to mentally prepare herself for what she would face on the other side. Then, with a trembling hand she pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the narrow space, willing herself stay strong for him, no matter what she would find. But the second her sight fell upon the mangled mess that had once been Dirik’s youthful vibrant body, every bit of strength and hope she had tried to maintain abandoned her at once. Collapsing forward, she grabbed ahold of the rail of the bed to keep herself on her feet as she surveyed up close for the first time the damage done by the Black Guard.

  Every inch of his exposed torso was covered in massive bruises ranging in color from the palest of yellows to the darkest shades of purple. Clear imprints of the various boots responsible for much of the bruising could be discerned from the multi-colored injuries and even a novice could see from the knotty, misshapenness of his chest that most, if not all his ribs were either broken or fractured. Sniffling back the tears, Citera took note of the cast encasing Dirik’s entire right arm before pulling the sheet up from his lower body to see another cast encasing the lower half of his left leg. But the true testament to the abuse he sustained at the hands of those monsters was evident in the fact that, had she not immediately recognized his distinctive red tinted hair, Citera would have sworn to the stars that body of the boy laying before her was not that of her close friend.

  “Dirik, can you hear me?” Citera asked. Leaning over him she carefully wrapped her hand around his as she struggled to keep her voice strong; even as the link pain fisted itself around her core. Clearing her throat, she did her best to ignore the growing discomfort as she stared down at the taut, dark blue tissue, that had once housed those enduring beautiful brown eyes. “I’m alive thanks to you. You sacrificed yourself to save me, and for that I will be eternally thankful.” Glancing back over her shoulder to assure herself her father was still out of earshot, she continued, “And while I don’t know if you can hear me, or even if you will be able to remember everything that happened that day by the stream… I pray that you do. Because for me, that day… even with the way it turned out in the end… will always live on in my heart as one of the best days of my life.” Pausing, Citera grimaced as the pain tightened in her chest and forced the tears from her eyes. Staring down at his busted, bloody lips, the same ones that had only days ago kissed her so passionately, Citera sobbed. “But despite the fact that I have always been a sucker for romantic tragedies, I refuse to believe that this is how the stars want our story to end. I truly believe there is more you and I are meant to do; I can feel it in my soul Dirik. So even though this may make me sound like the spoiled brat Jarod once accused me of being… I demand that you wake up and come back to me.”

  Overwhelmed with sadness, Citera began to cry hysterically. She knew that such sadness would only make the link pain worse, but she couldn’t help it. Leaning over the bed, she placed a chaste kiss to his swollen cheek, just as a gentle hand came to rest upon her shoulder.

  “Citera, we will do everything we can to help him.” Her father’s words broke through her sobs.

  Turning into his embrace, Citera rested her head against his chest and let her sadness continue to consume her. “I know… I just can’t stand to see him like this.” She sobbed into her father’s loving arms, as the pain in her chest only continued to worsen. With the knowledge that time was rapidly escaping her, Citera pulled away from her dad and smiled weakly up at him. “You know I love you, right?”

  Mikel appeared perplexed for a moment, before smiling back unsurely. “Of course I do. And you know I love you too… I hope. I mean… I haven’t always been the best father, but I promise I am trying my best to do what is right for you both.” Pausing, Mikel studied her face carefully, “Citera, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  Hearing and seeing her father’s concern, only broke Citera’s heart even more, knowing how hard it would be for him to accept what she was about to tell him. “Dad, I…” she began, but before she could finish, Citera fell to her knees, screaming in agony as the pain hit an unprecedented level. It felt as if someone had just shoved their entire fist inside her chest and was crushing her heart inside her body. Sweat beading her brow, she struggled to breathe as the pain’s crushing intensity only continued to grow.

  The sound of her screams, brought several passing people into the tent looking ready to fight, but once they set eyes on Citera’s crumpled form next to Mikel’s, pity replaced the anger as the reality of what was happening dawned on them all.

  “Citera! What is going on?” Panicked the worried father, embracing her kneeling body, and pulling it tightly against his, while Janil knelt at his side. “I bet this is a side effect of the damn medicine… I knew I shouldn’t have let you taken it.”

  “I-it’s been too l-long.” she gasped, struggling to pull enough air into her lungs to survive, much less speak. “T-time’s up.”

  “The link?” Janil asked, watching on as Citera continued to struggle with each breath. “This is from the link?”

  Citera nodded rapidly, “Y-yes.”

  Upon hearing her answer, Mikel shook his head violently. “No, I just got you back. I refuse to accept that these few chaotic moments are all we get.”

  As he spoke, the crushing pain surged through her body, cramping every muscle as it continued to deny her starved lungs of air. Screaming as her entire body went rigid with spasms, Citera fell to her side on the floor, pulling her father along with her. Quickly Mikel righted himself with Janil’s help, and together, they watched helplessly as her body arched and twisted about the floor in front of them. “P-pleas-se d-dad, make i-it s-stop.” She cried, locking her gaze with his as her traitorous body continued its relentless assault.

  Tears streamed down Mikel’s cheeks, as the reality of what needed to be done settled in.
Standing quickly, Mikel rushed across the room to a locked cabinet and pulled the key from his pocket. After inserting the key into the small lock, he twisted and unlatched the door, before reaching in and pulling out a vial of green liquid. Then, with laden steps he returned to Citera’s side and uncapped the vial.

  “Mikel… what is that?” Janil asked nervously as he knelt beside them.

  “Something Jaron gave me before he left.”

  Looking first from him to the vial, a look of understanding passed over her features. Tears began to fill her eyes as she bent down and placed a light kiss to Citera’s brow. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Rising to her feet, Janil shooed the stragglers from the path back outside, and latched the tent closed behind them. Now alone, Mikel lifted and cradled his daughter’s head in his arms. “Drink this, it will make the pain go away.” He coaxed, pressing the vial to her lips. Trusting him whole heartedly, Citera opened her mouth and swallowed the entire contents in one large gulp.

  Almost immediately, Mikel could see her body begin to relax. And as her eyes grew heavy, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, pressing a hand to his cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Managing a weak smile in return, Mikel laid his hand over hers as he bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “I will be counting the seconds until your return… now rest.”

  No sooner than the words escaped his lips, then Citera’s hand fell limp in his grasp. Unable to contain it any longer, Mikel broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. Hunched over her limp form, he let the tears flow freely, for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t until his body had grown sore and his tears had dried up, that Mikel finally managed to calm himself enough to think straight.