The Havoc Chronicles (Book II): Unbound (26 page)

And then I knew what to do.

The idea came to me whole – a knowledge I couldn’t possibly possess. It didn’t feel like a new thought. It was more like remembering something from deep inside me – something I had known for a long time.

“Rhys,” I said. I had intended to yell, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. I gestured for him to come to me.

Wasting no time, Rhys came to me, and knelt beside me, holding my face in his hands. He gazed at me with such tenderness that it made my heart ache. I longed to reach out and simply hold him for as long as I could. I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

“Can you hold it?” he asked.

“I can, but not for much longer. I need your blood.”

Rhys’ expression became confused. He started asking questions, but Osadyn roared and strained against the snare. Between the noise and the concentration required to hold the snare, I didn’t hear a word he said.

I picked up my varé and grabbed his wrist. With a quick slicing motion, I drew the base of the blade along the muscle in his inner forearm.

Bright red blood flowed from the wound, pouring to the ground much faster than it should. I could feel the power in it calling to me - somehow connected to me - a weapon waiting to be shaped and used. In the faint light of the ballroom, his blood gave off a bright glow as it pooled on the floor.

Osadyn renewed its efforts to escape. It thrashed wildly, desperately afraid of the blood and what I was going to do with it.

More images flooded my mind. I saw the blood as Osadyn did – a dark and evil fluid. There was fear there – fear of this blood and longing for the shedding of mine. It desperately wanted to free Pravicus.

And behind it all I felt something so unexpected that it almost made me lose my concentration – love. Threaded throughout the images Osadyn sent was an overwhelming feeling of love tinged with sadness and a long-frustrated desire to be with Pravicus.

I pushed the thoughts away. Now was not the time to be distracted. Osadyn had proven to be a master at manipulating my emotions. I would not allow it to deceive me.

My decision was made much easier as Osadyn lunged out with its long neck and bit Rhys on the shoulder. The teeth sunk in deep. I heard a click as they hit bone and Rhys screamed in agony.

With hardly a thought except to free Rhys, I kicked Osadyn in the side of the head. Without my ‘zerk, the kick was relatively feeble, but it was enough to distract Osadyn. He opened his jaws and turned his head to regard me malevolently. 

Once free from the bite, Rhys reached out and wrapped an arm around Osadyn’s neck to keep his head still. Between the snare and Rhys’ headlock, the creature couldn’t reach me.

I looked down at the pool of blood on the floor and with my mind I willed it into the shape I saw in my head and intuitively knew was right. The blood glowed even brighter than before – liquid light that cast fleeting red shadows across the ballroom as it flowed into a circle two feet in diameter. Around the outside edge of the circle ran a two inch thick strip that was thicker than the interior of the circle. It looked vaguely like a wax seal that had been pressed with a large signet.

I reached down and pressed my right hand firmly into the center of the circle of blood. It was cool to the touch and more substantial than I had expected. Where my skin touched it, the blood parted and my hand sunk down leaving a handprint. Streams of energy erupted around the seal like lightning flashing through the air.

When I pulled my hand back, Osadyn began to thrash even more. Several of my snare cables frayed and broke, but I willed the rest to hold. As I approached, Osadyn tried to thrash his neck about, and managed to lift Rhys slightly off the floor, but Rhys shifted positions and was able to keep control of the head.

I held up my hand, the palm and fingers glowing bright red where they had touched the blood. Osadyn renewed his efforts, but even now I could feel him weakening. I pressed the palm of my hand to Osadyn’s head, directly between the eyes.

He screamed.

A thousand more images burst through my mind – images of pain, loss, sorrow, and fear. I saw myself as Osadyn saw me, bright and terrible, a being of pain and anguish. I was a hunter, a jailor, an executioner.

Part of me recoiled at the sight of myself through Osadyn’s eyes. What kind of horror was I?

But the other part of me recognized that Osadyn was trying to do the same thing to me. He wanted Rhys dead to prevent him from being bound, and he wanted my blood to free Pravicus. I could see from the images he sent that he would never rest until Pravicus was free. It was bind or be killed.

I chose to bind.

With a last great effort I created a mental connection between the handprint in the seal and the handprint on Osadyn.

Slowly, the color drained out of Osadyn and into the seal. As I watched, Osadyn became less substantial, his essence flowing out of its corporeal body.

The seal turned from red to a bright golden color, sending out threads of light too bright to look at. At the same time, Osadyn became an insubstantial outline, drained of all solidity and vibrancy. He was literally a shadow of his former self, insubstantial and unable to interact with anything or even be seen by anyone but Rhys and myself. The light flared brighter, causing me to raise my arm to shield my eyes, and then went out. A dimly glowing golden seal remained on the floor – a golden seal with a red handprint in the center.

Osadyn thrashed, kicking and biting at anything he could reach, but he could no longer interact on this plane of existence and passed harmlessly through the objects he attempted to destroy. He raised his head to howl his frustration and anger, but no sound came out.

Osadyn was bound.

Exhausted, I cut off the connection with my snare and let it dissipate into the air. I then collapsed to the floor, too tired to stand.

Immediately Rhys was by my side, his beautiful eyes anxious and concerned.

He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Are you all right?”

A tired half-laugh escaped my lips. “You’re asking if I’m all right? I’m just tired. You’re the one Osadyn tried to shish kebob.”

“They were just physical wounds, practically healed already.” He flashed me a smile, and once again I was struck by how much I loved this man. “It’s one of the definite upsides of a Berserker’s power.”

“How did you ‘zerk, at the end?” I asked.

Rhys gave me a rueful smile. “There’s nothing like the thought of the one you love dying to get the adrenalin flowing. When I saw it bite you and pull you away from me... I snapped, and it couldn’t stop my emotions.” He helped me into a sitting position. “Don’t worry about me, I’m more worried about what it took out of you to cast that snare and to... to bind Osadyn.”

His last words held a question in them. How was it possible for me to bind Osadyn? I wasn’t his Binder – Mallika was. 

For a moment neither of us spoke, the bitter realization of what my binding Osadyn likely meant sinking into both of us, sucking out any feeling of triumph.

Mallika was dead.

The door to the Berserker house was locked. Rhys didn’t bother with the keys and simply ripped the door off its hinges. Aside from the door, the house appeared to be intact and there was no sign of any combat. That was a good sign.

Rhys and I had left the hotel ballroom before any emergency services had arrived. We had snuck out through a back entrance avoiding the throng of confused students huddled outside.

We hadn’t spoken during the drive home, silently sharing the irrational fear that if we said anything about Mallika’s possible death we might somehow make it real. We were trapped in a superstitious version of Schrödinger’s cat – until we actually saw her dead there was still a chance that she might be alive.

A single light glowed from upstairs in an otherwise dark house. We walked in and turned on the downstairs lights, flooding the house with illumination.

“Hello?” Rhys called. “Mallika? Are you there?”

No answer.

I had a strange feeling of déjà-vu and was forcibly reminded of the night I awoke and knew Kara had died. 

We ran up the stairs to Mallika’s bedroom. The door was ajar and light spilled into the hallway.

Rhys paused and knocked on the door. “Mallika?”

Still no answer.

He pushed the door open.

Mallika’s room was Spartan with a twin bed in the corner, a small desk and a tiny ledge mounted to the wall that held a bronze statue of a woman with ten arms holding weapons and riding on a lion. In the middle of the floor lay a chair turned over and out of place.   

And hanging over the chair, gently swaying, was the body of Mallika, a noose around her neck.

With a gasp I turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of her vacant, lifeless eyes staring out at me.  

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” said Rhys.
He stared at Mallika his expression crumpling into a look of pure distress. “Why would you do this?”

I reached out and pulled Rhys into my arms. For several moments we stood there, locked in an embrace, seeking comfort and solace.

When Rhys finally pulled back, he said, “Why don’t you go downstairs? I’ll take care of things up here.” He looked up at Mallika’s swaying body. “I don’t want to leave her like this.”

Part of me really wanted to take him up on the offer and let him take care of everything. But I also knew that as hard as this had been for me to see, it had to be ten times worse for him. He had known her since she first became a Binder, which would have been fifty or sixty years ago.

“No, I’ll help.”

Rhys put the chair back upright and stood on it, gently lifting Mallika’s body to give the rope some slack. I loosened the noose around her neck and pulled the rope off of her.

With extreme care, Rhys stepped down from the chair and placed Mallika’s body onto her bed. He reached out a hand and closed her eyes. It was a simple gesture, but it left her looking much more peaceful and serene. I took a blanket from the closet and placed it over her.   

We were about to leave when my eyes caught sight of something strange. In the center of Mallika’s desk rested a sealed envelope with my name written on it in large loopy writing.

“Did you see this?” I asked, pointing at the envelope.

Rhys shook his head. “No. What is it?”

I picked up the envelope and turned it over in my hands. “I’m not sure. Some sort of letter addressed to me.”

By wordless agreement, we went downstairs to read the letter, leaving Mallika in peace on her bed.

We sat at the kitchen table. I slid a finger beneath the sealed flap and pulled out several sheets of stationary. They read:

Dearest Madison,

I hope you will never read this letter, and I may tell you this information in person when you are ready to hear it. However, my intuition advises me to write down what I have learned. Just in case. 

I have long known that you were no ordinary Berserker or Binder. How could you be? You had powers that no one had seen before and strange visions that none could explain.

But I did not know, and had little reason to suspect, just how unusual you are. It finally became clear to me when Sunee and Nakai came to test you with the Sarolt stone. From their reaction to your unique powers, I could tell they knew more than they were telling.

Even then, I might not have forced the issue if Sunee hadn’t slipped by asking Nakai if you were “the one”. At that time I promised you I would investigate, so I have been quietly meeting with other Berserkers and Binders asking discrete questions and learning what I could.

My efforts have paid off, and I have discovered a hidden piece of knowledge that seems to have been passed on to only a few in the Binder Conclave. I do not know whether it is a prophecy or simply information passed down from the lost origins of the Berserkers, but I do believe you have a right to know it.

The Binders have long believed that at some point in time, the magic keeping Verenix and the Havocs bound would start to corrupt. One of the effects of this corruption is that when a Berserker or Binder dies, his or her powers would be absorbed by a current Berserker or Binder, rather than a new initiate. The “one” Sunee referred to is this person to whom these powers are drawn. That person would have the ability to Bind – or free, if her life blood were spilled – multiple Havocs.