Scorched Treachery (27 page)

The
large map of the grounds that surrounded the Abbey took up the majority of the expansive table that stood at the end of the long kitchen. I stood over it, facing the crumbling stone ovens and fireplaces that had once been used by the monks of Rioseco for food preparation. I stared at the map, ignoring the twinge of guilt from using this room as a planning room for the battle that was coming closer and closer. 

It had been seven days since we had been found and the first eight camps appeared. Now we could see twenty-two. Each one was marked by a small red dot on the map, the number of how many we assumed to be in each camp marked in quill pen beside it. The camps kept coming, and still no Ovailia.

Joclyn had been trapped in the Tȍuha for almost two weeks...three months for her. For three months, Edmund had been torturing her. I had healed her after every attack, but the injuries still kept coming. Last night they plagued her over and over until, in the end, I had to restart her heart, my magic manually pumping it in an attempt to keep her alive. Futile, that’s how it felt.

My only hope for her now was Ryland.

I scanned my eyes over the paper, trying to find a rhyme or reason to the pattern, but once again finding nothing. That didn’t necessarily mean anything though. It could simply mean that the Trpaslíks did not follow instructions, which was common. I snatched a strawberry out of one of the bowls that held down the massive paper, moving around to the other side of the table, hoping another angle would help.

“One new camp last night,” I said as Dramin walked in, his energy slow and lagging from having just woken up. He came up beside me, and I pointed to the newest red dot, the ink on the number six still drying.

“One is better than ten,” he chuckled, his reference to yesterday’s surge making me cringe.

Yes, one was better than ten, and after they had come so steadily, it only left me worrying about what was coming. I stretched my hands out to hover above the map, trying another view, but nothing jumped out at me.

“Do we have a plan yet?” Dramin asked, but I only laughed humorlessly at him.

At this point, if Joclyn didn’t wake, it would be me against upwards of a hundred Trpaslíks with a little help from Thom. While I had defeated that number before, it was not without grave injury, something that would take time to recover from, and I had been alone at the time. There were many other considerations when I had to protect the people around me. With the impending assault my father had planned, I doubted I had any time on my hands for either healing or complicated strategy.

“Does all this happen before or after Joclyn wakes?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

“It might,” I prompted, careful to keep my voice light. “When does she wake?”

“Soon.” Dramin grunted a bit and sat down beside me, his hands already wrapped around a full mug of Black Water. I stared at the water
as if it had offended me. We had given Joclyn the water for the past four days and nothing had happened. No waking, no more sights. She stayed still every time, laid out on the wide couch that had been placed in one of my side rooms years ago, now used only to supplement Joclyn’s nutrition.

I sat down heavily next to Dramin, my eyes still focused on the poison in his hands.

“Do you suppose,” I began, careful to keep my voice level and innocent, I didn’t need a commanding tone to set Dramin on his guard, “myslíte si, že we could give her another sight, she might wake? We could pour the water over my skin first.”

I cringed internally as I spoke, the pain from my last burn still strong in my veins. Most of the time it was just a dull hum of an ache, but sometimes it would flare up in agony. When I had been given the sight about Joclyn eight hundred years ago, I had experienced the painful s
urges of the Black Water for centuries; shadows of the pain still plagued me when something would rub against the scars, namely fabric. There was no reason to expect anything less this time around. I was mad to even suggest it.

“I’m not sure what that much Black Water inside of anyone other than a Drak would do,” Dramin said simply, but his words set me on high alert.

“Uvnitř?” My voice must have sounded much deeper than I thought because Dramin chuckled, his dark green eyes and youthful face turning toward me.

“Yes, Ilyan, inside. Why do you think it still burns? It will burn until your magic has changed it enough to let it flow comfortably through your veins. But even then, it is still Black Water. It’s just more you than Imdalind at that point.”

I stared at him wide eyed. I had never heard this before. I was raised to be King, raised with all the knowledge of our kind so as to be able to lead them. But this? I had never heard this before.

“I just entrusted you with our only secret, Ilyan. You better keep it that way.” Dramin smiled at me, but it was sad, his eyes were shaded by something...
Regret? I couldn’t see Dramin ever regretting anything, but then, he had just released a secret the Drak had seen fit to keep from everyone since the beginning of time.

“So what does that mean for me?” I asked, my eyes narrowing at him. Dramin only laughed at me, his usual joyful timber coming back into his voice.

“You have had Black Water flowing through your veins for eight hundred years and now you worry? Nebojte se,” he said as he patted my hand in a grandfatherly way, an action that did not match his appearance. “You will be fine. All I said was that I did not know what would happen. If there was a threat of an additional head sprouting on your shoulders, we would have never consented to give you, or anyone else, access to the sight.”

He laughed and I felt everything relax inside of me. He was right. I had feared the possibility of a greater ability. I did not need more power. I already feared the strength of the magic that flowed through my veins.

“Well,” Dramin began before draining the last of his mug, “I’ll go get Joclyn ready, come to her after you finish with Thom.”

“Thom?” I questioned, not understanding.

Dramin nodded once before standing, the sound of Thom’s yells reaching my ears as he did so.

“Ilyan!” The excited yell of Thom’s voice echoed around the stone hallways before reaching the kitchen.

“I guess I’ll go see what he wants, shall I?” I laughed alongside Dramin as we both left the kitchen, Dramin leaving to go toward my suite, where Joclyn slept, and I moved toward Thom’s frantic yells.

Thom’s
voice ricocheted around the stone hallways. To anyone else, the bounce of his voice would have made it impossible to know where he was, but I could sense his magic. His deep earth energy was strong with excitement as he moved closer to me, the excitement mixing with panic the closer he got.

I had almost reached him when his odd mix of emotions hit me hard, setting me on high alert, and I moved faster. Curiosity and panic mingled inside of me with each step.

Thom turned the corner at a dead heat, his feet sliding as he caught sight of me. His face was wide and alert in excitement, but I could hear the rapid rate of his breath in my ears, the pace too quick to be purely excited. My curiosity left as fear took its place, a million possibilities leapt to mind, but deep down I knew – they were attacking. My heart pulsed once in desperation, begging me to simply take Joclyn and fly away – to save her. The thought was only a breeze from a bird’s wing before it was gone, before inheritance and responsibility took its place.

We said nothing to each
other; I just picked up my pace, and followed him as he turned back the way he had come. His short legs moved fast as he ran, his magic pulsing through him as he quickened his pace. It wasn’t until he turned toward the large garden on the west side of the chapel that the fear in me shifted. The camps were arranged on the north side. Had we missed something? Something new, bigger?

Everything thumped in time with my footsteps, my heart beating in my ears and my breath moving in time with my steps. Without thinking about it, I moved my magic to check on Joclyn, shielding her as much as I dared.

We turned one more corner before Thom stopped, my feet halting right behind him before I collided with him.

This was not what I had expected, it was worse.

Ovailia stood in the middle of the hall we ran through, her long blonde hair down to her waist and smug smile in place, as if she expected me to praise her for a job well done. But, it wasn’t a job well done. It was a nightmare.

Ryland stood right next to her.
Stood
. His eyes were bright blue. His hair was damp with sweat, making the dark curls he got from our father longer than usual. He looked at me with understanding, with knowledge, and with eager anticipation. He was awake, and he remembered me.

“Where is Joclyn?” Ryland’s voice was eager, panicked. I could feel his need and longing as it settled deeply into his voice.

I would have gladly taken him to her right then, except that his alertness was a signal to something much worse. Joclyn was still asleep, trapped in a Tȍuha that she supposedly shared with Ryland.

“You’re awake.” I couldn’t help the panic that edged into my voice. As much as I needed to be the royal leader right then, I just couldn’t. I saw Ovailia’s brow furrow, but
she said nothing.

“Yeah.” He took a step toward me, ready to plead his case, ready to see her.

“But, the Tȍuha?”

“Dad broke our bond...
last week... I...” Ryland’s voice trailed off as my soul turned to ice.

I said nothing as I turned and ran down the hall. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain. How could I when I had no idea what was wrong? I heard footsteps behind me, knowing they would follow, knowing I could not stop them, but I couldn’t waste time trying. I barely heard them
; I could only hear my panicked breathing. I could only feel my heart clunk against the frail bones in my chest. Everything was falling apart inside of me.

I passed the ancient architecture, passed the ornate window I helped set, I passed it all without seeing. I ran without knowing. I followed the beat of my heart, the pull of my soul. My magic had already gone to her – it filled her completely, checking for something I might have missed. She couldn’t just be a shell, she couldn’t.

I slammed the door into my suite open, not bothering to close it, not bothering to say anything before moving into the small side room. Joclyn’s body was still and small on the large couch. She didn’t move, didn’t turn. Could she not hear my heart beat for her? Could she not feel my terror?

When I entered, the room was empty accept for Joclyn. Dramin had obviously gone for something, leaving the large mug of Black Water on the table beside her. I grabbed it without thinking, my fear and worry taking over my better judgment.

“Mi lasko!”  My voice was loud. The panic in me scared me. I had never felt this afraid.  Hearing my panic so deep in my own ears shook me.

I moved to sit over her, my legs on either side as I lifted her head, settling
her into the couch in a more comfortable way. My hand moved to her face, my finger tracing her lips for only a moment before I opened her jaw, her mouth sagging. I placed my fingers just inside, cupping my hand before her mouth, like a bowl, a bowl for poison. I tilted the mug, focusing on the determination in my soul and the steady beat of her heart before I poured the water into my hand, the slope of my skin forming a ramp into her mouth.

The sound of my pain exited my body with a howl of agony and misery. My voice hit stone and glass before bouncing back to me, but I barely heard. The sound of my agony that now shot through my veins only grew before the water had gone from the mug, leaving her face wet and dripping. I yelled as I willed the pain to die down, the burn only growing. I held my hand up in fear, my mouth opening at the sight of the seeping blister that now covered the palm of my hand, my voice continuing to howl at the agony that was threatening to incapacitate me.

This pain was worse than the brands on my chest, worse than the accidental drip on my arm. This was torture. I howled as I collapsed onto her, my body tensing as it attempted to manage the pain that I was now racked with. I held her to me as every muscle seized, as my throat burned with the howls that escaped from me.

The water tugged at me, pulling something out of me and
took it into her. The heavy strand of magic moved the pain through me and centered it over the Štít, over our connection. The burn grew as the water pulled at me, changed me. I could feel her more acutely than I had ever done before, her heartbeat bounced in my ears, her breathing moved over my chest. I felt her inside of me as well as alongside me, my mind aware of her as if I was her. The connection pulled stronger and stronger, unlike anything I had ever felt before or anything I had ever heard of. I focused on it as it grew and encompassed me. The water that flowed through my veins connected with the water that now lived inside of her. It was all I could focus on, her body, her soul, the thin thread of her consciousness that trailed far away, and next to that...the thin thread that connected her to the Tȍuha. I had found it.