Allyn threw a broken table leg at the door. The rest of the table lay in shards on the floor, having been destroyed when Nyla tackled Cason. The leg bounced harmlessly off the door. Their barricade—a collection of tables, chairs, rugs, and anything else they could pile in front of the door—had held so far. The dead bodies in the hallway probably had something to do with it, too. When they figured out nobody in the room could wield…
It won’t come to that, Allyn thought. We will get out of here before it comes to that.
“She’s getting worse,” Liam said. He sat on his knees, holding Nyla’s hand. If the tenderness around Allyn’s ribs and stomach were any indication, she’d suffered severe trauma to her internal organs, a few broken ribs, and possible internal bleeding—all because she had healed him.
I didn’t do it for you. Her words haunted him. “I know,” Allyn said, picking up another table leg. He didn’t know what he would do with it, but he felt better armed with something.
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m working on it,” Allyn said. How do you tell someone you don’t know? That they were probably going to die?
“There aren’t any windows or doors or another way out. And they know we’re in here, so we can’t hide.”
Allyn closed his eyes, trying to hide his annoyance. They’d already been through this. “Can you try to wield?”
Liam shook his head.
“You’re a magi. Your father is the grand mage. And you’re telling me you can’t?”
Liam’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“What about the conversations we had about my struggles?” Allyn asked. “You gave me advice, gave me things to try. Were you just full of—” He realized he was taking his anger out on Liam. The kid may have misled him, and his timing couldn’t have been worse, but he didn’t deserve Allyn’s wrath.
Liam refused to look away from Nyla. “I just told you what Jaxon always told me.”
“Can you try? Maybe it will be different this time.”
“It won’t be.”
“Will you just try?” Allyn asked. “For me?”
Liam looked up at him, hurt in his eyes. Allyn was asking him to knowingly humiliate himself in front of him, and he hated himself for it, but he didn’t have any other ideas. If Liam could accidentally hit the wall with a fireball, it would give them more time. And then what? Give Graeme more time to rescue us. Is that my plan? Wait to be rescued?
Liam gently placed Nyla’s hand on her chest and stood. He rolled his shoulders and neck, and with a long, deep breath, he closed his eyes.
Shuffling and indistinguishable whispers came from outside the door. They were planning something. He was running out of time.
The air shimmered around Liam, and his skin somehow seemed brighter. He’s doing it. All he’d needed was the stimulation of being in a real-world situation, like an athlete performing during a big game. Liam had what it took when it counted. The lights in the room flickered and then shut off entirely, plunging the holding cell into darkness. They were definitely planning something.
Liam opened his eyes. The lights flickered on a moment later. He sighed with frustration. “I can’t do it. I can feel the power inside me. I just can’t do anything with it. I can’t project it. I don’t know why.”
“It’s okay.” Allyn sat down, wondering what else they could do. At least this way, when Hyland’s magi broke through the barricade, he and Liam wouldn’t look like a threat. They might spare them.
Nyla coughed. A thin red line streaked down her cheek. Allyn rushed over to her. Taking her chin in his hand, he rolled her onto her side. Blood poured from her mouth like wine from a tipped glass.
“We need to get her help,” Allyn said.
Liam nodded. It was time.
“Stay with her,” Allyn said. He walked to the door and knocked. The shuffling in the hall stopped. “Can you hear me?”
Whispers.
“Parley.” Silence. “You hear me? We want to parley.” Allyn waited for several excruciating minutes. What’s taking so long?
“Allyn?” a new voice called out. “This is Grand Mage Hyland. I’m told you wish to speak.”
“I do.”
“It’s very simple,” Darian said. “Come out peacefully, and you won’t be harmed. I apologize for any injuries you may have sustained, but we can prevent more from occurring if you come out peacefully.” Darian sounded genuine.
“What assurances do I have that you won’t kill us on the spot? I need an act of good faith.”
“What do you propose?”
“I have someone who needs medical attention,” Allyn said. “Once they’re treated, I’ll come out. I’m yours.”
“No!” Liam shouted.
“It’s me you’re after anyway,” Allyn shouted over Liam’s protests. “You heal my wounded, and you can have me. Let the others decide for themselves.”
“What are you doing?” Liam demanded.
“Nyla needs help,” Allyn said. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“They’ll kill you!”
“I don’t think so,” Allyn said. “If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead. They’ve had plenty of opportunities.”
“They tried! Nyla stopped them from killing you. She nearly killed herself trying to save you!”
“I don’t think those were Cason’s orders.”
“I don’t care what you think. As soon as you leave, they’re going to kill us.”
“What do you want me to do, Liam?” Allyn asked. “What other choice do we have?”
Liam looked down at Nyla’s helpless form. More blood had streaked down her cheek. “I don’t know.”
“Me, neither,” Allyn said. “This is all I’ve got.”
Liam took a deep breath. “All right.”
“Do we have a deal?” Allyn shouted through the door.
“Yes.”
“Give me a hand with this,” Allyn said to Liam, gesturing to the barricade. Together, they pulled off the loose stuff first. As they pulled the last of it off, they got to the bulk of it—a dense wine rack that doubled as a serving table. It probably weighed more than the two of them combined and was bottom heavy, making it difficult to tip over. After some grunting and a little sweat, they managed to slide it away from the door.
Allyn walked to the center of the room, Liam standing at his shoulder, and waited. Liam gave him a small, reassuring nod.
“All right.” Allyn took a deep breath. “It’s open.”
The door opened slowly, and a hand, palm toward the sky, slid through first. A short woman with bobbed blond hair combed to the side gingerly stepped into the room. A nervous expression on her face, she quickly scanned the room. Her eyes came to rest on Nyla’s body.
“I’m in,” she said to someone in the hall.
“Close the door,” Allyn said.
“I’m here to help,” the woman said, but she kicked the door closed. “My name is Elisa.”
“She’s over here,” Allyn said, gesturing to Nyla.
“What happened?” she asked.
“She saved my life,” Allyn said bluntly, his eyes flickering to Cason’s motionless body.
Elisa gave him a sidelong glance before placing a slender hand on Nyla’s chest. “She’s hurt.”
“We know that,” Liam said as he knelt and took Nyla’s hand.
“Her left lung is collapsed,” Elisa said. “She has multiple broken ribs and a lacerated spleen. She’s bleeding internally.”
“Can you heal her?” Allyn asked.
“Not completely,” Elisa said. “The best I can do is stabilize her condition. The rest is up to her.”
Liam wiped her cheek, washing away the blood streaks. Save for her swollen
eye and the bruising on the left side of her face, she looked normal. Peaceful. She had attempted to sacrifice herself when she healed Allyn. She’d acted like a woman who wanted to die—a woman who wanted peace with her lost husband. I didn’t do it for you. Did she want to be saved?
“Do what you can,” Allyn said. He would rather have her be alive and ungrateful than dead and not be able to tell him.
Healing was a surprisingly violent affair. Allyn had been on the receiving end of it, and it hadn’t been pleasant, but he hadn’t expected such intensity. A glow emitted from Elisa’s hand, and a similar wave of light rippled through Nyla’s body, expanding outward. Nyla convulsed, her back arched, and arms and legs waved frantically in the air, as she raged from side to side in what looked like a violent seizure.
The swelling around her left eye remained unchanged, as did the bruising on her face and side. In fact, she looked completely unchanged as the glow dissipated. Elisa withdrew and stood, cradling her stomach. “It’s done.” Her voice was soft and pained.
“She doesn’t look any different,” Allyn said.
“The bruising and swelling are superficial wounds,” Elisa said. “I’ve done what I can to address her most dire injuries.” She lifted her shirt to the bottom of her ribcage to show the newly forming bruises on her stomach and chest. They were identical to those on Allyn’s own midsection. “Any more, and I would risk my own life.”
“Thank you,” Allyn said
Elisa nodded to him. “It’s done,” she called out in a hoarse voice. “We’re coming out.” She held out an arm, directing Allyn to start walking.
Allyn waited. “Liam…” he said, his voice failing him.
Liam didn’t say anything. He just watched as Elisa escorted Allyn out of the room. The last image Allyn had was of Liam sitting alone beside Nyla. A small figure in a large room, ever present, always loyal, he was unwilling to leave his friend’s side. What have I done?
Four magi stood with their backs against the wall as Allyn entered the hall. Several more, maybe ten in all, stood at the ready behind the smiling Darian Hyland. He patted Elisa’s back and gently guided her along. “Good work,” he said. “Go get some rest.”
Elisa slowly shuffled down the hall, stooped over and holding her midsection.
“It’s a good thing they heal faster than we do, isn’t it? What would we do without them?”
“We’d become less careless,” a voice boomed from around the corner.
Darian whipped his head around. The hallway—with the exception of Elisa, who stiffly stood at attention—was empty.
“How do we learn from our mistakes if we don’t understand the pain of failure?” Graeme strode into the hallway, passing Elisa without second thought, Jaxon and Leira at his side. Confidence radiated from them like steam from boiling water.
“How did you…?” Darian said. “Take him!” he shouted, shoving Allyn toward the nearest magi.
The man shoved Allyn face first against the wall, knocking the wind out of him.
“I’m here for my Family,” Graeme said.
“I have you outnumbered five to one,” Darian said.
“Your numbers don’t intimidate me,” Graeme said. “Not when I know that half of them can’t wield, and the other half can barely keep from lighting their shoes on fire.”
Some of the onlookers looked at their feet, while more wore angry expressions. Darian tapped his foot nervously.
“Dad?” Liam stood in the doorway, supporting Nyla, who had an arm thrown over his shoulder. She watched groggily through half-open eyes.
“Liam—” Graeme said.
“Grab them!” Darian shouted.
Two guards seized Liam and Nyla. Liam, whose resolve must have steeled from the sight of his father, fought. He flailed his arms, kicked at the man’s shins, and tried to pull away.
“Let him go!” Graeme shouted.
The man grabbed hold of Liam’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. Liam cried out in pain, falling to his knees.
“Stop!” Graeme shouted. “Don’t let it come to this, Darian. You won’t like the result.”
Jaxon stepped forward, but Graeme held him back.
“You won’t win,” Darian said.
“I just want to take my Family and go,” Graeme said. “But I will kill every last one of you if you try to stop me.” The words echoed through the hall, severing Darian’s hold over his men. More than one of his magi retreated a step and exchanged nervous looks with those closest to them. This wasn’t their fight. They weren’t willing to die over it.
The man holding Allyn was a different beast. His grip tightened, and he pushed Allyn into the wall harder.
“Let them go,” Darian said. The hallway rang with the murmurs of relief and surprise, but the hands holding Allyn didn’t loosen. “I said, let them go.”
The man slammed Allyn against the wall one last time then shoved him aside. Allyn rushed to Nyla, who had collapsed under her own weight. Allyn grabbed her, slinging her arm over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
They staggered toward Graeme. Jaxon and Leira met them halfway. Leira took Nyla, and Jaxon guarded against any dissenters.
Graeme took the top of Liam’s head in the palm of his hand and checked him over. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” Liam said.
Graeme pulled him close and glared down the hall. “If one of you so much as takes a step in our direction, I will burn this place down with all of you in it.”
Satisfied that they had taken his threat to heart, Graeme started for the exit. They didn’t meet any resistance on their way out, though they did receive confused looks from other members of the Hyland Family. Allyn committed their faces to memory. They hadn’t been part of the attack. They hadn’t been part of the attempted abduction, and they might not support Darian’s actions.
He still had hope they were good people.
Chapter 13
Sleep brought its own horrors. Allyn ran the halls of the Hyland Estate, frantic, searching for something—what exactly, he didn’t know. The walls shook with the echoes of explosions beating with a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. He found a set of stairs and descended into the belly of the estate, beyond the basement level, past the holding cell, continuing downward until, at last, there wasn’t a house at all.
Darkness surrounded him. Silence enveloped him. His feet didn’t even make noise against the empty abyss that was the floor. This was the solitude he had sought upon lying down.
A dim light shined ahead, beckoning Allyn like a lonely streetlamp. As Allyn approached, it seemed to solidify. A single brick wall sat in the darkness, like a stage prop. An invisible spotlight bathed it in a circular light, highlighting a familiar body crumpled on the floor.
Scarlet.
Her neck was bent awkwardly, and her leg was folded under her, just as she had been in the Hyland Estate, but her eyes were open. She moved. Allyn crouched in front of her, speaking in a comforting tone. He was there to help. A deep hurt filled her eyes. Betrayal. It wasn’t Scarlet anymore.
It was Kendyl.
“Why?” she asked. “Why did you do this to me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why, Allyn?” she asked more forcibly.
Kendyl stood up, her left leg still bent at an unnatural angle. She limped toward him, her arms outstretched, reaching for him.
“I didn’t know,” Allyn said, stumbling backward as she drew closer. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry.”
She reached for him, fingers extending, growing in length.
“I’m sorry!” Allyn slammed his eyes closed, cringing at her inevitable touch.
But it never came.
Allyn opened his eyes. A sturdy double door replaced the wall. Kendyl had disappeared, t
oo. He pushed open the door and found himself in the holding room. Only the room was completely bare. The furniture was gone, as well as the lamps, shelves, books, rugs. Everything was gone, except Cason’s lifeless body. Two hand-shaped bruises marred his neck. Allyn placed his hand on one. His own fingers were shorter and thicker than the ones that had marked Cason’s neck. He gripped the other side of Cason’s neck, placing his other hand over the second bruise. Strangely, his hand fit this bruise perfectly.
Turning to leave, Allyn found Kendyl in the doorway. She looked at him with the same cold, lifeless eyes. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Allyn backed away, tripping over Cason’s body. As Allyn hit the ground, Cason sprang up and snatched at him with quick, snake-like movements. Allyn shuffled backward in a crab walk away from Cason—only now Cason’s face had been replaced with Kendyl’s. The Kendyl at the door continued to limp toward him.
Panicked, Allyn slid backward until he hit the closets. With nowhere else to go, Kendyl-Cason easily caught up to him and grabbed his foot with a powerful hand. With one arm, she slid him toward her. Allyn kicked, trying to break free, but Cason’s grip was too strong. He continued to fight as Cason’s hands clasped around his neck. Allyn beat against the hands, kicking wildly as the powerful grip lifted him from the ground. As blackness crept in, the Kendyl in the doorway repeated her question…
“Why?”
Allyn woke clawing his away across the bed, his heart on the verge of beating out of his chest. The room was dark, moonlight obscured by the window dressings. Images of crumpled bodies lying in unnatural positions, scorched skin, and strangled victims stuck with him. It was probably his imagination, but the putrid smell of burnt flesh clung to him. Rolling out of bed, he opened the window, allowing the cool breeze to wash it away. It didn’t. The smell of the dead and dying continued to tickle his nose, distracting him, reminding him of all the things he wanted to forget.
Fracture (Book 1) Page 13
