Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2) (40 page)

After I had cleaned the house, it became quickly evident that I needed to wash the lace tablecloth. After the finger-loss induced bloodletting, it was clearly required. Unfortunately, the dratted thing was bearing the label ‘hand wash only’.

Hand wash only!

Whoever had created such stupid fabric needed to be shown a washing machine. There was a reason that washing machines were created, and that was so hand wash only items need no longer exist. But some fool decided to make an un-natural fabric that needed to be hand washed only. Then another silly fool (ah-hem, Talon) decided to buy a bright white tablecloth for his lovely wife (that would be me) made out of said abhorrence of nature fabric.

I took the tablecloth down to the old guards’ chamber, the closest place that the freezing cold water of the underground spring ran. The dark grey stone of the cavern was jagged, unlike the rest of the tunnels we called home. The roughly hewn walls arched high above my head, the only light source a small collection of
magical orbs that floated and bobbed amongst the shallow cavities of the stone ceiling. The green light that blossomed from above gave the room a dark glow that cast hundreds of eerie shadows around me.

The underground spring ran through the lowest level of the tunnels below
Prague, well the lowest level that anyone dared to go to anyway.

This room and the ancient dungeon below were old relics of when Edmund had first declared war on all magic. In the beginning, the dungeons were used to house traitors, and Edmund’s men that Ilyan had captured but refused to kill. There had been at least ten of the S
kȓ
ítek army in here at any time, guarding the prisoners in the rooms below.

That is what the S
kȓ
íteks were after all, an army. An army with the sole purpose of guarding the wells that sat in the lowest points of these caves.

The wells of Imdalind, the center of magic.

Ilyan and Edmund were the last ones alive who knew the way through the labyrinth of tunnels that led down to the muddy wells. Which is why it was so scary that someone could be letting Edmund’s people in here. If Edmund got in, he could stroll right down to the source of pure magic as if he were walking into a Denny’s.

Now, however, the dungeons were bare, the rooms below and the guard chamber I now stood in only a reminder of how the war had started and how many magical beings there had
once been.

Putting the tablecloth into the water, I scrubbed the fabric before letting the majority of it trail away with the flow of the water. I held onto the corner, letting the white lace swirl through the freezing water. In only a few minutes, my hands had become a lovely red color, although I couldn’t feel the burning tingle of the cold. If my skin was threatening hypothermia, I had no idea.

Everything inside me had heated when my skin touched the stone of the floor I kneeled on. I had always reacted to the stone of these caves this way. It was as if my magic sensed the deep magic of the world that was hidden somewhere far below me and grew in response. As far as I knew, I was the only one who did that, but there weren’t many Trpaslíks around to ask. It could be perfectly normal, and I would never know. Besides, it definitely had its benefits. My personal explosion factor increased by ten when my skin was in contact with the stone. Not like there were many things to explode around here, but it was still cool.

“NO!”

I jumped – like, full on jumped – at the disembodied voice that bounced into the air around me. The high-pitched scream shot through my body with electricity that perked every hair on my arms to full attention, my heart rate jumping with the speed of a twenty thousand volt reaction.

“P-please, n...no,”

The woman was back, which meant that whoever was torturing her was back too. They were close, close enough to find me. Close enough for me to find them. I didn’t know why my heart was thumping so wildly. It was either the fear of discovery or excitement for the battle. I narrowed my eyes as my muscles tensed, definitely excitement. I dropped the wet wad of lace down to the stone floor and perked my ears toward where I could only assume the voice was coming from.

I took a step forward without thinking, my nerves on high alert, eager to attack. If only I could find her, I could end all this.

“I...I...w-won’t t-tell you!”

My head spun, the voice seemed to have moved from one area of the cave to another. This time, the voice echoed down a darkened hallway that led toward the dungeon. I looked at the dark cavern, my nerves mingling with fear. No way was I going down there alone. No way. For all I knew, that was exactly what they wanted. Last thing I needed was to run into someone in the dark and then accidentally collapse the cave with my magic. Yep, that would be just my luck.

Why did this voice, this woman, only seem to appear when everyone else was busy? It didn’t make sense. I needed to get Talon; we needed to find her.

“L-leave me
a..alone,” her voice broke and stuttered as she once again begged for her life.

The timber of her voice was so close to that of the little girl that haunted my dreams that my heart tensed in a reflex reaction, the contents in my stomach spinning uncomfortably.

I pulled the tablecloth out of the water and went to take off toward the sparring hall where the pull of Talon’s magic told me he would be, but my wet Chuck Taylors squeaked on the stone on the first step. I froze, waiting to see if the noise would alert whoever was down there to my presence, but the crying remained. The last thing I needed was to scare her off again before I could get Talon, and we could investigate.

I began walking again, moving slowly this time until the volume of the crying had lessened enough that I figured I was out of earshot, allowing me to take off on a dead run toward the training hall.

The sounds of battle hit my ears before anything else, the grunts and explosions mixed with laughter as everyone enjoyed the spectacles of combat.

I barreled into the large hall and wove my way through the small groups of sparring S
kȓ
íteks, each group covered by the shimmering orb of a shield. I worked my way through them, looking like a fool when I jumped at an explosion that rocked against a barrier near my head.

I smiled at the two S
kȓ
íteks enclosed in the fighting space and made my way toward Talon.

“Hi, baby,” Talon said softly when I ran up beside him. His face dropped at the look in my eyes and the transmission of my panic that I am sure he felt through our bond.

“I heard her again. I think she is in the old dungeons.”

Talon said nothing more before dragging me behind him out of the training hall and toward the underground spring.

His feet moved quickly, his gait and cumbersome shape unable to be quiet as we bounded through one dark tunnel and another before arriving in the same large cavern I had just left, the dark entryway to the dungeons staring at us hauntingly.

“Are you sure you heard the voice from down there?” Talon asked, his voice shaking, as he looked wide-eyed into the abyss in front of us.

I could only nod. Talon was scared, that alone was enough to freak me out. I had never been down there, but Talon had, hundreds of times I was sure. The place was probably full of more haunted memories than crazy, flesh stripped skeletons. Although, I was sure there was a few of those too, there always were in dungeons.

“You’re sure?” Talon asked again, and I felt my confidence waiver.

“Of course I am not sure, Talon. Her voice echoes around like an Olympic game of Ping-Pong. She could have been a mermaid in the water for all I know.”

“Don’t be silly,” Talon said, his voice still shaking, although less than before. “Mermaids don’t exist.”

Talon took a step away from me, toward the cavern, and I could feel his magic surge as he put on a small shield. Dude, he wasn’t thinking about going in there, was he?

“Talon?” I asked from behind him, my voice catching at the petrified anger on his face. “Baby, let’s go. We can’t hear her anymore
; she’s gone.”

I pulled on him, but he didn’t move. I waited, but he didn’t respond. His eyes stayed glued to the dark opening as if they had been sewn there. It was creepy watching him stare at something so intently. My heart rate began to accelerate to match Talons, the quick pick up triggering a warning inside of me. I didn’t know how much I could take, my heart was beating too fa
st, and even I was starting to feel some creepy vibe from whatever was down there.

“Talon?” My voice was weak with the heavy vibe of fear that Talon’s stare had given me.

I couldn’t do it. I shook off the anxiety that was trying to take hold of me, like a wet dog, and grabbed the sopping tablecloth from where it still lay in the basket by our feet. In one smooth movement, I threw it over Talon’s head, the wet fabric covering him with a loud smack.

It did the trick. He howled and pulled the cold thing off him.

“Let’s go, Talon,” I said, before he could get angry with me.

His jaw hung heavily for a moment before his brain clicked back into place, reminding him of what had happened before I hit him with a wet tablecloth. That was the problem with being married to such a big guy; sometimes their brains moved a bit too slowly.

Talon nodded and put the tablecloth in the basket, only to freeze at the sight of something over my shoulder.

“What are you two doing here?” Ovailia spat with as much icy venom as she possibly could. I whipped around to see her standing before us, her feet moving back and forth as if she was walking in place, her long arms folded over her slender torso. I instantly moved back into Talon, content to let him take the lead and thankful when he squared his shoulders defiantly against her.

I guess that was the one good thing about growing up with Ovailia; he was used to her. When you can think of someone as a tantrum-throwing toddler with a stinky diaper, their fits as an adult don’t truly bother you.

“That is no longer your concern, Ovailia,” Talon said simply, his voice making it clear he didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

“What?” Ovailia said, her voice airy with surprise. Why she was surprised, I had no idea. I had always assumed it would take pigs standing and walking on their hind legs to surprise her.

“I do not need to remind you of Ilyan’s proclamation regarding who is acting in his stead, do I?” Talon wrapped his arm around me, pressing my shoulder into him.

“No, I remember quite well,” she said snottily, the airy confusion in her voice gone now.

I stared at Ovailia intently, the nerves in my spine jumping sporadically. Something about the way Ovailia shifted her feet was freaking me out. Her whole bod
y was screaming, liar! Run! I couldn’t tear my eyes from the icy blue of hers and the way her lips curled in warning.

“Speaking of Ilyan,” Ovailia asked, her voice hesitant, “how is my dear brother?”

“Wonderful,” Talon said, his voice pinched.

Ovailia smiled but said nothing. Talon began to lead me out of the large room, the basket perched on his hip.

“Oh and Wynifred,” Ovailia sneered the moment we had passed her, “I wouldn’t go poking around in corners if I were you.”

“Is that a threat?” I hissed, my body pulling away from Talon as my magic surged angrily.

“Of course.”

I wanted to lunge at her, but let Talon’s strong arm around my waist serve as a warning. I let him drag me out of the roughly carved chamber and into the smooth stone halls that would take us to our room. I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving her there, but something in Talon’s body language begged me to.

So I complied, choosing instead to stick my tongue out at the stone wall that stood between us.

Yes, sometimes I was just that childish.