From the Embers (The Born in Flames Trilogy) (14 page)

WHEN WE WOKE, FENN KISSED me, ensuring that I felt every bit of his love for me. He rested his forehead against mine, wrapping his hands around the back of my neck. “Everything is going to be okay now. We will be one. Mind, body, and soul.”

I closed my eyes, savoring the love that flowed between us. Savoring his forgiveness. “If we can obtain the elixir and figure out a way to get his blood,” I added, not exactly sure how to go about doing that.

He kissed me softly and then said, “It’s possible. It might not be easy, but I know it’s possible.” He tossed his arm around me, which I happily shrunk into.

“I take it you found your answers helpful then?” Roan was smiling at us smugly.

“You better keep this to yourself,” Fenn warned.

Roan didn’t even flinch. “I wouldn’t dare spill these precious beans, Protector. I am sworn to Iliana and all her Holiness.” He closed his eyes, seeming to be in a dream as a sedated smile crossed his mouth.

“I guess we will take off,” I said, pushing away from the table to stand. “We need sleep before tomorrow. Thank you for your help.” I smiled at him. “You don’t know how grateful we are.”

“Yeah, umm…thanks,” Fenn added.

“Anything I can do to help the Progeny,” Roan said as if his assistance was no big deal. He followed us out of the room and then hurried his steps to get ahead of us so he could open the door.

I paused in the doorway, looking back at Roan who was staring down the street with a hint of a paranoid expression. “You know, you’re the first Seer I’ve met who has been cool.”

He laughed. “Not all of us are crazy. But the ones that are have a good reason to be.” His face twisted a little, his gaze vacant. “The Fates have a way of playing with our minds.”

I couldn’t help but think of Soothe and all that he had put himself through. All to help me.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Roan said, bending down to search my eyes. “You have done everything asked of you, and if you ask me, you are the one who has been played with the most.”

“The deeper I go, the more it feels that way,” I agreed with an awkward laugh.

Fenn squeezed me. “We make the best of it, and thanks to you, we can move forward with confidence.”

Roan winked at him. “One more thing,” Roan said, grabbing my shoulder. I turned to face him. His head was tilted to the side, as if listening to something.

“The spectol. It’s…it’s in use. You would be wise to open it tonight.” The tone of his voice didn’t sit well with me. He turned back inside, closing the door without another word.

I had completely forgotten about the spectol. It was tucked away with my things back in the castle. “Thank you,” I called out hesitantly, stepping out into the street.    

When we made it back inside the castle, I pulled Fenn into my room. “The spectol’s over here,” I said, reaching for a pile of clothes neatly stacked on a chair. It was right where I left it, inside my pants’ pocket.

“Do you think it will work?” Fenn asked.

I gave him a look.

“Right,” he said with a chuckle.

Once I had it in my hands, I looked over at him. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

I slowly twisted the dial and then reached for his hands as everything began to fade away.

Chapter 12

The Wasted Shell

A DARK CELLAR FORMED AROUND us. Chilled air streamed through, and I shivered. My eyes immediately fell on the one person we came here to see. Zordon. I tightened my grip on Fenn’s hand.

I hadn’t seen him since the night we were both stabbed by Gwenevere. He was in his dragon form, his obsidian scales reflecting the orange hue of the torches lining the walls.

He was standing in front of a cell like a statue, clutching the other spectol in his hand. We walked over to him, his image wavering slightly as the air adjusted to our movement. I kept the spectol wrapped firmly in my hand.

Gwenevere sat on a mound of straw in a far corner of the cell. Her knees were gathered to her chest, containing her quiet sobs. She looked up at Zordon as he peered in between the bars on the door. Dark circles rested under her eyes, her skin pallid and gray.

“I want your sister, Iliana, to see what she has caused. Maybe then she will divulge the information she is withholding from me,” he said into the spectol.

He turned from the cell and set the spectol on the ground. He closed his eyes, his magic commanding the spectol to open. Energy shot out from the center of the spectol and fell upon the room, scanning every inch, every crack and crevice, to gather information and record what was happening.

I turned back to the cell. Gwen’s eyes were full of fury and hatred. “You locked me away?” she asked, her hands balling into fists at her side.

“I had to do something to keep you away from Gabe. I could kill him if you prefer.” His tone was flat as he peered down at her.

Fenn froze in place, his eyes wide.

Her eyes furrowed even deeper with hatred. “I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

Zordon chuckled. “He will be of use to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said with disgust. We jumped back as he walked away from her cell.

Fenn quickly closed the distance to his mother’s cell, his fingers gripping the bars. He pressed his forehead against them as his mother’s sobs picked up.

“She can’t see us,” I told him as I touched his tense shoulders, wishing there was something more I could do. The half of the spectol I had could only receive information. It should have been with Saeth instead of me. I turned back to Zordon, following the sound of his footsteps through the dank-smelling cellar.

He stopped again before a cell at the very end. Through the bars over Zordon’s shoulder, I could see Irisi. Directly across from her was her husband, Na’shir. My hand shot up to my mouth.

“Why have you come?” her voice called out. She sounded weak and broken and was tucked into a dark corner, shielding herself from Zordon.

“Your magic isn’t working,” Zordon stated with agitation in his voice. I squinted to see through the darkness, using my dragon sight to seek her out.

Suddenly she rushed up to the front of her cell, appearing before him in a cloud of green fog. “I already told you,” she spat, “I need to be with my husband in order to work stronger magic.”

“And I told you, that will never happen. Do you think I’m stupid?”

She snickered. A roll of rage seemed to shudder through Zordon’s shoulders. “Afflictum!” he chanted, sending spears of pain throughout her body. Her blood-filled scream curved his lips into a smile.

“Let her go!” Na’shir shouted from behind me. I spun around. His hands were clenched around the bars of his cell. He looked pasty and malnourished.

Zordon smiled cruelly at him and then slammed his staff into the ground, sending another round of pain into Irisi. His eyes never left Na’shir’s.

“I will help you if you let her go,” he relinquished, his hands falling off the bars. Zordon dropped the spell.

“Don’t do it,” I heard her moan. He silenced her with his staff and then walked over to Na’shir’s cell.

“You will do as I ask?”

He kept his magic visible on the tip of his staff, ensuring that Na’shir knew he was ready to continue with the torture should he change his mind. Fenn came up behind me, reaching for my hand.

“I will…only if you let her go,” he bartered, his accent stronger now. His eyes were fierce and wild with hatred.

Zordon laughed hysterically. “Let her go?” he mimicked. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? Why would I let her go?”

“Because what I can do for you is far more than she ever could. I won’t help you unless you let her go and swear never to harm her.”

“Or I could kill her and you can do it my way anyhow,” Zordon said quickly. He tipped the end of his staff through the bars of her cell, ready to end her life at a moment’s notice. He looked back at Na’shir. “I am a Fate. I can bend any to my will.”

“If that’s what you believe, have it your way,” Na’shir said, sounding neutral. Zordon turned back to Irisi when Na’shir said, “But no matter what, you cannot force me to do your bidding. Fate or no Fate. Your spells have no affect on me. I was born from death itself…without the aid of any Fate. You kill her, you lose me.”

“You lie,” Zordon seethed out. “I took your channel.”

He pulled a necklace with a large dragon claw out from under his robe, reminding me of the necromancer named Shiron we had encountered in the forest so long ago. His necklace was made of bones and teeth and had seemed to absorb magic.

“This is yours, is it not?” Zordon taunted. “It’s what absorbs a Mage’s energy.” Zordon’s smile provoked Na’shir to dare him.

Na’shir’s menacing gaze returned Zordon’s. “I don’t need that, Zordon. I am the leader of all Necromancers.” Na’shir sounded bored.

Another ripple of power surged through the air. “And I am a Fate!” He slammed his staff, and the ground shuddered beneath us, shaking debris loose from the ceiling. His wings stretched out in a dark blur, and then he flexed, towering over us all.

Fenn grabbed my hand, pulling me back a little.

“This will be my last offer,” Na’shir said coolly, the veins behind his neck corded. “Let Irisi go, alive, and I will help you.”

I admired the fact that he refused to back down to Zordon. I admired that even as Zordon rose above us all, the dark plumes of smoke spewing from his mouth and nostrils filling the room, Na’shir still didn’t flinch. Not even a little. He was as defiant as he was deadly.

Maybe he should have been the Progeny.

Irisi banged against the bars of her cell, the words she wished to speak stuck behind her lips. Zordon stared at Na’shir, seeming to weigh his options. I knew he needed Na’shir to sway the rest of the Necromancers into joining his army, and he needed Na’shir’s magic. Na’shir was right, Zordon could not kill him. Not yet, at least.

“Fine.”

The words left his mouth like a death sentence to us all.

Irisi’s cell door swung open. She crept out, her lips still sealed shut. Under her marred brow, her eyes swirled with hatred.

Zordon’s eyes filled with lust as he gazed upon her. “If I hadn’t been so taken with Gwenevere’s beauty, I might have pursued you when we first met. Your beauty is untamable and unique,” he said, reaching out to run his fingers through the ends of her hair. “You’re stunning, even with your filthy rags and matted white hair.”

Na’shir was at the bars, shaking furiously as he growled a warning in Zordon’s direction.

Irisi cautiously walked past Zordon to Na’shir’s cell and ran her frail fingers over his. When she touched him, Zordon’s silencing spell was lifted. She professed how much she loved him.

Zordon shoved her out of the way, down to the ground.

“You are the devil,” she spat, picking her weak body up off the floor.

I reached for her, even though I knew there was nothing I could do. Fenn’s grip tightened on mine.

“Go before I change my mind,” Zordon said without looking at her. She stumbled a bit, her legs weak from misuse. His hand flicked out, and then he released a spell that callously threw her up the stairs and out the door.

Zordon turned back with a smirk.

He headed back towards the cellar and stopped right outside of Na’shir’s door. “Come with me,” he commanded as he unlocked his cell. “I need help with my wife.”

Na’shir stepped out. The enchanted chains around his feet scraped across the ground with every step he took. “My magic doesn’t affect matters of the heart,” he said catatonically, running a scolding eye over Zordon.

“I don’t need her to love me,” Zordon said. “I want her brought to my side. Unfortunately, I cannot perform the task as a Fate. Besides, all love does is make you weak…vulnerable.” He sounded disgusted by the idea.

“The dark magic alone could kill her in the process.”

“Do it anyway.”

“As you wish,” Na’shir said, his shoulders slumped over. He started towards Gwen’s cell.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be a leader for your people, and to be in the predicament you are now in? Does it eat you alive?” Zordon watched him with interest.

The lines creased on Na’shir’s forehead as his eyes pooled with animosity. Zordon had touched a nerve. “You must bring her out of the cell if I am to do this.”

A small frown wrinkled the corners of Zordon’s mouth. He turned from Na’shir and unlocked Gwenevere’s cell. She picked her head up, the bags under her eyes now clearly visible.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Zordon’s lips curled. “Don’t ask questions,” he bit off. “Move.” She jumped up and stumbled her way over to us.

I almost felt pity for her. But then I remembered the loathing in her eyes and the knife in my back. I looked back at Na’shir, trying to keep my face even for Fenn’s sake. I know it must have been hard for him to see this. He was clutching my hand as if it were his only saving grace.

“Do it,” Zordon barked. It almost felt like the words had come from my mouth and not his. His darkness swarmed inside of me, churning and waiting to strike. It was pure hatred.

Fenn yanked on my hand, forcing me to look at him. He must have sensed what I was feeling, and I instantly felt ashamed of my animosity towards his mother.

“I can’t help it,” I muttered, hating the darkness inside of me and knowing that my struggle with Gwenevere only fueled it.

His lips pressed tight, the glare in his eyes as hard as stone. “Try, otherwise you’re letting him win.” In that moment I wished Zane was there. He would understand.

Na’shir glanced down at his chains.

“Ah, yes, the enchantment,” Zordon said. He opened a portal to Sayer who was escorting Irisi into the forest, and whispered a command. Saeth nodded and then the portal closed.

“Don’t move,” Zordon growled to Na’shir, sending out low bits of energy to keep him from trying anything.

Once unchained, Na’shir’s power would be his to use. I could only hope that Zordon would make a mistake. With Na’shir on the fence with wanting to help Zordon, all he would need was one mistake to break free.

A moment later, the same portal Zordon had just woven opened up and Sayer stepped through with Irisi writhing in shackles. Na’shir tried to reach out, but Zordon snatched him back, slamming him to the ground. “I said, don’t move!”

“You promised her freedom! I will not stand for this!” Na’shir shouted, glaring daggers at Zordon. “I will kill you with my bare hands if it’s the last thing I do.”

Zordon sneered at him. “The last thing you will do is my bidding or your wife will die. I will keep that promise once you have completed my request.” They locked eyes. With love as the barter between them, Zordon’s will was stronger.

Na’shir huffed and gave in, his struggles ceasing. Irisi fell to her knees, tears streaming down her heart-shaped face. If my heart had anything left, it crumbled into pieces in that moment. She didn’t deserve this. No one did.

“Please,” she begged Na’shir.

Na’shir stood tall and grew cold. He refrained from looking at her. “Let’s get this over with,” he said bitterly, his chin held high.

“Fine,” Zordon said.

A pack of Saar stepped through Sayer’s portal and huddled around the three prisoners. Fear crossed prisoner’s faces.

Zordon grabbed Gwenevere by the neck and forced her to her knees in front of Na’shir. I had to hold Fenn in place.

To my surprise, she didn’t put up much of a fight.

With a wave of Zordon’s staff, Na’shir’s shackles fell around his feet, leaving him free. His body grew in size, and a dark fog rose around his feet, encasing him in shadows.

He was a part of the shadows like Zordon was a part of darkness. Zordon pointed his staff at Irisi’s quivering head for added measure. She reached her hand out to Gwenevere who took it as if it were her only salvation.

“Do you see this Iliana?” Zordon said to the spectol by his feet. “It is because of you that my wife will become an empty shell. And she will only be the first. I will continue to take the ones closest to your Progeny, one-by-one, until you relinquish what you know about the bond between us.”

The spectol in my hand glimmered as the information continued to pass into it. “He’s not going to stop,” I said blindly, thinking of all the faces that mattered to me.