Capture (20 page)

“How are you feeling, Nykin?”

“Not my best,” Nykin replied, smiling wryly.

“Ask him if he’s ready to try it,” Ryneq whispered. “Tell him it needs to be now.”

Nykin relayed Ryneq’s question to Fimor and the silence across their bond was deafening. “Fimor?”

“I don’t like this, Nykin. I’ve never tried to heal a rider this way before…. It’s…. It can be fatal if not done correctly. I could kill you, Nykin.”

Nykin thought about Hatak and his threats. He could just imagine what would happen if he was left behind while Ryneq escaped. Hatak would likely think that Ryneq had done it on purpose, that he didn’t trust Nykin, after all. Even if he believed that Nykin was just too injured to move, it would amount to the same thing. Nykin would be surplus to requirements, and Hatak would more than likely have him killed. Ryneq was right—this was his only chance, no matter how dangerous.

Nykin rested his head back onto Ryneq’s shoulder, taking a little comfort from the heat of Ryneq’s body. “If I stay here, Fimor, I’m as good as dead anyway.” Nykin felt Ryneq tense behind him. “Please, just do it.”

The silence stretched out again, and Nykin almost thought Fimor had ended their connection, until he felt rather than heard the resigned sigh.
“As you wish, Nykin, but you must do exactly what I say.”

Fimor instructed Nykin to lie down flat and get as comfortable as he was able, because once Fimor started using his magic Nykin needed to stay as still as humanly possible. Fimor had informed him that it would hurt—
“mending the human body is not an easy thing to do”
—and the pain might be considerable. Nykin had Ryneq poised next to him, ready to use force if necessary, because any movement on Nykin’s part could prove fatal.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Nykin?”

“Yes.” Dusk threatened to turn to night at any moment, and Nykin’s heart stuttered as he realized they were running out of time. “Please hurry, Fimor.”

“Very well. Get ready, Nykin. And remember… no matter what happens…. Do. Not. Move.”

Nykin’s eyes met Ryneq’s briefly, and Nykin gave him a small nod before settling back and closing his eyes. He felt Ryneq shift beside him, and then soft lips covered his in the barest of touches. “It’ll be okay,” Ryneq whispered against his lips, and he sounded so certain that Nykin relaxed into the bed. Maybe it would be.

And then the pain started.

Nykin felt the warmth of Fimor’s magic slide over his body. But instead of the comforting warmth wrapping around him like it normally did, it seeped into his bones and his blood. Long tendrils poked around his broken ribs as if hunting for the break itself, and when they found it, Nykin clamped his mouth shut to prevent the scream from tearing out.

The magic hummed and curled under his skin as it tried to knit the bones back together, and it hurt.
Fuck
, it hurt so much. If it weren’t for Ryneq’s arm across his stomach, pinning him to the bed, Nykin would be arching off it trying to escape the pain.

Just when Nykin was sure he couldn’t take any more, the magic quickly withdrew from his chest and escaped up to his shoulders and along his arms. The wounds in his forearm and wrist throbbed dully, the magic not as strong anymore as it sank into his flesh before disappearing completely.

Nykin lay there, panting heavily, and it took him several deep breaths in and out before he realized it no longer hurt. He felt a slight twinge, an ache when he sucked in a great big lungful of air, but nothing like it had been before.

His wrist was still tender, and his arm, where Hatak had stabbed him, was still incredibly painful, but Nykin felt so much better than he had before. He could even move his fingers now. He opened his eyes to find Ryneq staring at him. “It worked,” he croaked, having to clear his throat twice before finding his voice.

Ryneq let out a long breath and slowly sat back, removing his arm from Nykin’s stomach.

“Fimor?” Nykin whispered, but the connection was oddly quiet, and a ripple of unease settled deep in Nykin’s belly. “It worked, Fimor. You did it.” He waited to hear the familiar throaty grumble in his head, but there was only silence.

Ryneq put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t feel him,” Nykin answered, panic rising quickly in his chest. “The connection should be open, but…. Fimor’s not
there
.”

“W
HAT
DO
you mean, he’s not there?” Ryneq hissed, gripping Nykin’s shoulders.

Nykin pushed his hands away and struggled to sit up. He felt light-headed and took a moment to let the feeling pass before looking up at Ryneq. “I can’t hear him in my head.” He went to rub at where his rider’s sigil should be but stopped when he felt the bandage there instead. “It feels like we’re connected, but he’s not answering me, and he’s never done this before.” Nykin reached to grab Ryneq’s forearm tightly. “If healing me has… has….” Nykin swallowed, unable to finish. “What if it was too much?”

“Nykin.” Ryneq cupped his cheek with his free hand and forced Nykin to look him in the eyes. “If Fimor died, then so would you.”

Nykin’s heart lurched and the horror he felt at the thought must have shown on his face.

“I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but you need to focus. There isn’t much time,” Ryneq added quickly. “Using that much magic will have made him weak, and we can’t afford to wait around for him to recover. We need to go now.”

Nykin leaned into Ryneq’s touch for just a moment longer before something occurred to him. “I’m not exactly sure where we’re meeting Eldin.” Ryneq stared at him, a confused expression marring his features. “Well I am, but I was supposed to confirm—through Fimor—that the place we’d picked out wasn’t anywhere near Cerylea, but I haven’t yet. And now….”

“Fuck.” Ryneq leaned in to press his forehead against Nykin’s and sighed heavily. “We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just concentrate on getting out of here for now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Ryneq stood and offered a hand to Nykin. “How do you feel?”

Nykin took the outstretched hand and allowed Ryneq to haul him to his feet. He swayed a little at first, and Ryneq’s firm grip on his shoulder kept him from stumbling to the side. But it didn’t take long for him to get his bearings. “Not too bad, considering,” Nykin replied after a while. He wouldn’t be much use in a fight, but he could breathe easier now and walk without fear of passing out. He flexed both hands and immediately regretted it as pain lanced up his arms. “Don’t think I’ll be holding a sword anytime soon, though.”

Ryneq raised his eyebrows and spread his palms wide, as if to say
We don’t have any swords, so that’s not going to be an issue.

Nykin wasn’t stupid though. If they were going to get out of here, they’d need to fight their way out at some point. Hatak wouldn’t make it that easy for them. He might have told some of the guards to make themselves scarce, but Nykin doubted very much that he’d have told all his men about the planned escape. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked, hoping that at least one of them would be able to wield a sword.

Ryneq rolled both of his shoulders to test their movement, and Nykin could clearly see the stiffness in his left side. “Fine,” Ryneq replied, and Nykin thought it wise not to disagree. Ryneq was still the king, after all. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Nykin nodded and bent down to scoop up the keys from the floor. “Let’s go.”

They listened for any movement in the passageway outside their cell, both pressed up against the door. As far as Nykin could tell, their guards were gone. They didn’t have any other option but to open the door and trust that Hatak had taken care of them.

Nykin slotted the key into the lock and turned it. It clicked open, the sound echoing loudly in the silence of the cell. He waited, fingers still clenched tightly around the key, but nothing happened.

Ryneq stepped back from the door and tugged on Nykin’s arm. “Open it.”

Nykin pulled the keys back out and stuffed them in his pocket before turning the handle and slowly opening the door.

Ryneq was the first one through, not quite shouldering Nykin out of the way, though it was close. Nykin bristled slightly at Ryneq’s overprotectiveness. He was a dragon rider, used to riding high up in the open sky, not hiding behind his king like this. He couldn’t help his grunt of displeasure, and Ryneq paused in front of him, turning around with a look of disbelief.

“Really?” he hissed, looking pointedly at Nykin’s injured wrist and forearm. “If you think you can handle any soldiers we meet, then be my guest.” He gestured for Nykin to pass him, but Nykin swallowed his pride and gave a slight shake of his head. “That’s what I thought.”

They crept out into the passageway and quickly checked for any sign of life in either direction, but it was eerily quiet. Ryneq hesitated, “I was unconscious when they brought me in… I don’t—”

His voice was low and pained. Nykin could easily tell how much he hated not knowing which way to go and having to ask for help.

“I wasn’t.” Nykin cast his mind back to when he’d been captured. He hadn’t been in the best shape, but he’d been awake. “It’s this way.” He pointed to the right and kept close on Ryneq’s heels as they hurried off down the passageway. Resting one hand on the small of Ryneq’s back as they moved, Nykin guided him toward the front of the castle.

By Nykin’s reckoning they were almost at the main doors of the castle, and they hadn’t seen a single soldier yet. They’d heard voices and distant sounds of movement, but none had come close to discovering them.

“It all seems a bit too easy, don’t you think?” Ryneq whispered, as if reading his mind.

Nykin was about to agree as they crept around the edge of the wall and spilled out into a wide-open balcony. Voices sounded below. From what Nykin could make out, four soldiers guarded the doors, and at least two others stood outside.
Fuck
. Nykin found himself hoisted almost off his feet and back into the safety of the passageway.

“Spoke too soon,” Ryneq muttered. His mouth was too close to Nykin’s ear, and Nykin wasn’t quick enough to hide the shiver running through his body. Either Ryneq didn’t notice, or he chose to ignore it, but he didn’t react in the slightest. “Wait here.”

Nykin opened his mouth to protest, but Ryneq had already moved toward the top of the stone steps. He pressed himself back against the wall, watching the soldiers below, and when he was apparently satisfied that he couldn’t be seen, he beckoned Nykin over to join him.

Nykin raised his eyebrows in a
what now?
expression, because they were still vastly outnumbered and also unarmed. Ryneq held up a finger, indicating Nykin should be patient and pointed down at the guards. Nykin waited, with no idea what they were actually waiting for, until Ryneq reached over and shoved his hand into Nykin’s pocket.

Under any other circumstances, Nykin would have made some noise about the fact that the king of Torsere was rooting around perilously close to his cock. But now Nykin just bit his lip in an effort not to react.

Ryneq fished out the keys to their cell and tossed them back down the way they’d come, making enough noise that the guards all stopped talking. Nykin tensed, his gaze locking with Ryneq’s. As far as plans went, this wasn’t the best, but when two of the guards separated from the others and began to climb the steps toward them, Nykin had to admit it wasn’t all that bad either.

Despite Ryneq being unarmed and not 100 percent fighting fit, he was quicker than either of the approaching guards. Within moments, he’d relieved one of the men of his sword and left him writhing on the floor, clutching at a broken arm and a bleeding nose. Sword poised and ready, he advanced on the other. The guard didn’t really stand a chance.

The other two guards ran up the steps toward them. Nykin rushed forward and kicked at the Rodethian soldier on the ground, knocking him out, and felt over his body until he found a dagger tucked into his belt. He withdrew it from its sheath just as the other two guards made it to the top of the stairs.

“Nykin!” Ryneq yelled as one of the men barreled past him and headed straight for Nykin.

Nykin gripped his knife tightly, ignoring the flare of pain that shot up his arm. The guard grinned down at it, brandishing his long sword with practiced ease. Nykin was of a slighter build and would normally be quicker on his feet. Riding a dragon with nothing but a harness and a saddle to grab onto had honed his instincts and made him surprisingly strong. But his ribs were still a little tender, and his wounds throbbed with each rapid beat of his heart. He managed to feint to the left, barely avoiding the tip of the man’s blade as the soldier lunged at him, but Nykin’s foot slipped, sending him careening forward. The guard, unprepared for Nykin’s sudden move, left his right side unprotected, and before he had a chance to react, Nykin managed to sink his dagger deep into the soldier’s side. He pulled the dagger out and stumbled to get out of the soldier’s range, clutching his arm to his chest.