Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1) (27 page)

She relaxes and gratefully says, “
Two
summers ago.”

“How about a deal, then? I’ll admit that I loved you,” Cameron moves so close she can feel his breath on her nose. Her heart stutters. “And you admit that you loved me.”

Margo’s eyes dart between his own blues and his lips. “I think you just did.”

His smile broadens. “And? What about you?”

She thinks back a thousand years ago, to the day atop the Ferris wheel, the day she wished to reciprocate his spoken feelings. Kylie’s words ring through her head.
What if, God forbid, something were to happen?

“Yes,” she whispers before reasoning can sink in. “I did.”

“And,” his hand finds her neck, Margo closing her eyes at his touch. “And what about now?”

“I still feel the same,” she breathes.

And his lips are suddenly pressing into hers. It is unlike the stolen kiss from Saul. He is tender and she wants him. Her fingers knot in his hair as the kiss grows wilder. Everything is perfect. She wishes nothing will change, but
—

But the Witch’s words pound in the back of her skull.
Dey want you to help dem escape, but for you, Margo Grisby, dis is your escape.

Dere is already so much light in yourself
….

“Shikas,” she says suddenly, his lips still pulling against hers.

Cameron stares at her for a moment. “Sorry…what?”

“Shikas,” Margo repeats. Pulling him back into the sitting room, a look of determination in her brow. “We need shikas. We have to leave tonight.”

“Tonight?” Axton interjects. “It’s Day Seven. It wouldn’t be wise to go tonight.”

“Day Seven?” Margo purses her lips.

“Last day of the Jamyrian week, the day of Rain,” Ian explains.

“You need your rest, Margo,” says Freya. “I can heal you, but I —”

“Can’t bring back the blood, I know.” Margo tries to conceal her annoyance. “We have to go. The Witch’s home…. I won’t let that happen here, too. We have to leave right away.”

“But we don’t know where we’re going, remember?” says Ian. “We never even got a chance to ask the Witch what we were supposed to do.”

“I did,” says Margo with a smug air. “We have to go to the castle and find the main globe. She told me to destroy it.”

“Wait,” Cameron says. “The castle? As in, the Queen’s castle?”

“Is there more than one?” Margo asks curiously. “Whichever one has the globe.”

“Oh, there’s only one,” Cameron laughs. “I just don’t see how that’s going to be any safer than what happened this morning.”

“I didn’t say it was safer,” Margo barks.

Ian drops his gaze to his feet.

“And besides,” she continues. “I told you from the beginning that you didn’t have to come with me. You decided to come, so back me up. Or else I’m going to do this alone.”

Cameron takes a step back as if her words had reopened his wounds.

“The Witch is dead, Cam. She died telling me this, and I won’t be able to live with myself if the same thing happens here.”

“So we leave tonight.” Ian nods in acceptance.

“We have four shikas,” says Freya. “Take what you need. Anything for the Marked One.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: Storm the Castle

The forest blends into a blur of teal green while the glittering stars light their way. As the moon peaks, the trickling rain abruptly stops. Day Seven ends and the First Day begins. Droplets cling to every surface and softly reflect the shimmering moonlight. And when the night finally comes to a close, morning mist greets them before the sun.

The ground sloshes under the shikas’ forked hooves as they press forth with vigor. Riding at a gallop is both exhilarating and terrifying. They weave between trees
in accelerated movements that are blind to human eyes.

Margo recognizes the sacrifice giving up three shikas had been for Freya and Ax. She will be forever grateful.

“If there ever comes a fight, we will be there,” Axton had said.

Margo clasped hands with him in thanks.

Freya had squeezed her daughter — whose cherub face resembled her mother’s but for her light brown eyes — tightly in her arms as if regretting his promise. Her face, however, looked determined to be a part of the change that brought freedom to the little girl she held.

She nodded once at Margo and repeated herself. “Anything for the Marked One.”

The wishbone charm bounces wildly off Margo’s chest. The steady rhythm of the animals threatens to put her to sleep. She shakes herself into alertness.

“Let’s slow up,” says Cameron having taken notice to this. “These guys need a rest.”

Unable to find the resolve to argue, Margo tugs at the reins until the midnight shika she rides eases into a walking pace.

Ian kicks off his animal completely, dropping to the ground with a groan.

“We’re not stopping,” she says firmly, angling her shika so that she can face him.

“Ah, come on. We’ve been riding all night. Besides, look at yourself! Your eyes are all baggy.”

Frowning, she says, “How am I supposed to see the bags under my own eyes?”

A hand encloses around her wrist. Cameron is standing alongside her. “A little sleep will do us all some good. We’re in no state to infiltrate the castle.”

Margo kicks off the animal wordlessly and trudges over to a tree which she settles against. “One hour,” she grumbles.

“Why are you in such a rush all of the sudden, anyway?” asks Ian.

She flicks away a winged bug that landed on her knee. Ian cringes away from it. The man who takes on three Crewmen, afraid of bugs.

“Because I’m done hiding.”

She has no watch and no alarm, but Margo is certain they slept for more than one hour. Worst of all, she is the last awake and a smear of sickly sweet mud clings to the side of her face.

By midafternoon, the forest has grown into darker shades. The further west they ride, the more normal the trees are: leaves of hunter green with a faint bluish hue sprout from thin, dark trunks. Foothills grow into verdant mountains that soar into the turquoise sky.

They come upon a line of tall grass, stretching on in either direction, dotted with purple flowers whose petals are so iridescent they glow in the sunlight. Wrapping up and over the mountain and deep into the valley, the row of grass quivers in the breeze. It stands no taller than Margo’s knees.

“We’re not far from the castle,” Ian tells them. “Keep your eyes open. This marks her territory.”

“How do you know so much about this land?” Margo asks, hardly masking her suspicion.

Cameron eyes Ian carefully.

“I’ve been here much longer than you,” he replies. “I practically grew up in Jamyria, remember?”

She frowns and tries imagining what it would be like spending your childhood in a false reality. Never smelling the fresh air of the Real World. Unable to grasp the advancements of humankind after a lifetime without such luxuries. Not knowing your parents….

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be.” Ian flicks his reins lightly. “It’s all I remember. But from what I hear, life is better on the other side.”

Margo smiles. “I’m glad I called for you to come back.”

Ian looks back to her.

“When you caught that deer… After you saved me from the water. I’m glad you stayed with us.”

Staring at his hands, his grip tightens on the reins without a word. He quickens his pace seemingly as anxious as Margo.

Though no castle is visible, it’s clear they are heading toward the highest mountain. It looms over the other hilltops. And at long last, the forest breaks. Lying ahead is a stretch of flat, rocky surface. There is a crunch under Margo’s feet as she drops to the ground from her shika. She stands up on her toes to give the animal a nuzzle behind its pointed ear.

“You were great. Go now, back home.” Cameron pats his golden shika on the nose before sending it away. He has a deeper connection with the animals, having tended to them during his stay.

His stay.

She has thus far half-heartedly sought for an escape, and it is the first time Margo thought of this world as temporary. If everything goes as smoothly as planned, they will reach the globe, drive her blade into it, and be back in the Real World by nightfall.

“Let’s get this over with.” Ian inches his way to the edge of the forest.

Margo feels very exposed after having been under the canopy of the over-sized forest. Ian leads the way toward the mountain whose foot rests at the opposite end of the stone floor. But there is still no sign of the castle.

“Ian,” Margo whispers, because whispering now seems appropriate. “Where is it?”

“This is it,” Cameron answers. “It’s daytime, so it’s not as obvious.”

Her hand finds the handle of her sword. “Shouldn’t it be more visible during the day?”

“Look.” Ian’s arm is extended and pointing to a peak slightly to the left. A single black tower juts out above the mountain.

“That’s it?” Margo expected something grander. Not such a slender spectacle. “The Queen lives in there?”

“No, that’s the lookout tower. The castle is in there.” This time Ian points ahead.

“The mountain?”

“It’s hollowed out. As Cameron said, it’s more obvious at night because there are windows carved in its sides, and the lanterns light up the night sky. Still, it’s camouflaged pretty well.”

“Have you been in there before?” Margo asks, her nerves suddenly jittering beneath her skin.

Ian hesitates. “No…. But I’ve seen pictures. Hmm…. I’m trying to remember the layout. I know the globe is in the throne room.”

She looks to Cameron.

“It’s true,” he says. “There are dozens of sketches out there of the castle’s insides.”

“Won’t they see us coming if we keep walking in broad daylight like this?” Margo asks.
She recalls Janie’s story of Nick entering the castle.

A short laugh. “Cocky attitudes pay the price,” says Ian, spreading his arms wide and adding more swagger to his gait.

“Will you take it down a notch and follow your own advice?” She scowls.

“Just focus on finding an entrance and let’s get moving,” says Cameron.

Margo understands his words, though. The mountain is gargantuan and their bland clothing blends in, so it would be hard to spot them. It takes twenty minutes to reach the base of the mountain, where they find slight protection behind boulders strewn alongside the slope.

“How far?” she whispers.

“‘Bout a mile hike up. Then, it starts shaping out more like walls. We won’t be able to climb it, so we’ll sneak into a window.”

Cameron nods in agreement, though there is a coldness to his gaze.

The rocks slide beneath their feet threatening to claim them; it would be a long, jagged fall if they were to. They ascend silently, but for the
click
-
clacks
of the shuffling stones.

The walls of the castle are made of stone much like the wall surrounding the Central City, though it is covered in moss and other green growths to camouflage it in the distance. Pressing her hand on its rough surface, Margo is surprised to see how thorough the Queen’s design is. She fooled her, at least.

They skim the wall in search of a window — which is nothing more than a hole carved into the wall leading into a hallway. The interior gleams in the unexpected luxury of a five-star hotel. Ian is the first to drop inside. With a quick glance both directions, he signals for the other two to follow suit.

The most dangerous part of Jamyria is surprisingly lux.

Nodding toward the left, Cameron takes the lead. The carpet beneath their feet is a striking red after being surrounded by the stretch of gray outside. The outer wall is the same gray stone while the inner is bedecked in gold wallpaper decorated with unlit lanterns made of scrolling iron.

A short hallway on their right. They peek around the corner to find it deserted before turning and continuing on.

“The throne room isn’t far,” Cameron says.

“Wait,” Margo whispers, at the sudden discovery. “If we’re going to the throne room that means….”

“The Queen will be there, yes.” Ian’s eyes narrow.

“Perfect,” she mutters. Fear thickens like honey. It is just as the Witch told her:
Always at her side.
So why is it such a shock?

“We can hide out until the Queen leaves,” Cameron says, but Ian is shaking his head.

“She practically lives in there. Besides, in the off-chance she decides to leave, someone will stay behind, meaning it’ll never be completely deserted. And what if, in the meantime, someone finds us? I doubt there are any decent hiding places along these halls.”

Cameron and Margo exchange a nervous look, and she knows exactly what he is thinking: Ian knows too much about this castle.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she says, planting her feet. “This seems to be happening so fast.”

“Are you serious?” Cameron whispers. “After all that? We’re here, Margo, we can’t just back out!”

“Sure we can!” She takes a step back. “Let’s think up a new plan and come back in the morning —”

But before she can finish her thought, a flash of orange light shoots between the two of them forcing them apart. A man, tall as Saul and twice as thick, swirls his arm over his head, conjuring a second burst.

Cameron grabs her by the arm and shouts, “
Come on
!”

The second blast ignites, aiming to hit Margo square in the back. Ian steps, with milliseconds to spare, between her and the flare, his hands outstretched to deflect it. She screams knowing he will be disintegrated, knowing his hands will surely be gone.

Staggering away, somehow still alive, he yells. “Do something!”

It takes a moment for her to realize he’s talking to her. The Mark. The one with power.

A third light sparks.

What had she done when Saul threatened her? She tries to understand where that strength came from. There isn’t a way for her to do it. She can’t remember!
But —

She holds out both palms, breathes deeply. Focus on her energy, just like Ian taught her around the fire. Let’s it hover in front of her palm.

The orange flash approaches, but it is nothing compared to the energy that erupts from her palm: hot, feral, and uncontrollable. It scorches the room with a jet of white, hitting the Crewman dead on. He collapses to the ground. Cameron and Ian both ricochet against the hallway, which is now stripped of its gold paper.

“S-sorry!”

“Never mind!” Cameron shouts as he gets to his feet. “He’s down! Let’s go.”

Ian’s face contorts. He eyes Margo for longer than they can afford after the ruckus she caused. He lets out a long breath. “You need to follow me. Now.”

Three doors down, he pushes through. A stone spiral staircase winds both up and down — they hurry down to the floor below. The doors above burst open just as Cameron shoves her through the doors leading into a corridor.

“Where are we going?” she shouts, no longer trying to hide their appearance.

“Throne room,” says Ian breathlessly. There is a new kind of fear in his dark eyes, which causes her to hiccup and doubt everything they are doing.

The mountain is more labyrinth than castle. Ian leads them down countless turns, confusing Margo’s senses. The sounds of Crewmen grow in the distance behind them. They will not be able to outrun them for long!

The hallway opens into a circular foyer, and they are faced with a set of golden doors. Wildly they swing open, crashing into the walls and sending a thunderous echo throughout the room. Every inch before her is made entirely of white stone, smoothed to a glossy finish with touches of soft gray veins in its surface. The walls are lined with crimson drapes puddling to the floor and staggered with curling iron sconces, each alight with brilliant white flames. A spherical piece of glass glints in a corner. A striking tiger skin parts the room at its center leading straight to a half a dozen Jamyrian Guards who surround a short set of black stairs.

Atop the stairs, sitting in a silver filigree throne, is the most breathtaking woman Margo has ever seen. With piles of dark curls spilling down her shoulders and skin of ivory, the woman is the epitome of perfection. Wrapped in lavender silk which falls to her feet like a purple waterfall. Hair adorned with a crown made of raw amethyst crystals jutting up through tendrils like stalactites. Her lips are blush. Her eyes are haunting.