Pieces of Jade (Pirates of Orea) (41 page)

“No.” My whisper died in the barren tunnel. Some wafting dirt caught in my lungs and I coughed. I brought my hand to my mouth, replaying Pearl’s words from moments before. “Dirt?”

I grabbed the knife from Clayton’s boot and slashed the edge across my palm, pressing the wound over William’s mouth. The blood ran down his lips and into his mouth. I chanted the
blood-letting ritual, squeezing my hand, milking blood from my cut, willing it to heal him.

Nothing happened.

His wound still gaped, his breathing didn’t start; he was still dead.

“He needs more.” I re-gripped the blade and brought it down to my wrist, but a hand pulled my arm, making my thrust miss. My eyes flashed as I spun at Clayton, who still clutched my wrist. He shrank back, but kept my arm in his grasp. “More blood won’t help, Sheridan!
Lafe, Pearl, carry William out. We’re not leaving him here.”

Pearl and
Lafe lifted William’s limp form between them and struggled down the tunnel. The captain’s eyes never left mine. “What were you thinking?”

“I was trying to help.”

“By killing yourself? I don’t know what sort of deep magic you were invoking just now. You were losing yourself in it.”

“I had to help him,” I said feebly. The adrenaline abandoned me and my heavy head swayed on my neck. The world tilted and I started to fold forward. Clayton caught me before I fell.

His eyes shone with concern. “At the expense of your own life? It was killing you.”

From far down the tunnel, Pearl gasped. “He’s breathing!”

My body froze, afraid to believe her words.

Before I could react, Clayton hugged me tight. “Did you do that? Did you save him?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! He’s breathing.” My heart swelled and with a smile I threw my arms around him.

He tucked my head under his chin and little splats of water on my head made me glance up. Tears traced lines down the dirt covering his face. “Thank you.”

I stepped forward, making my way to William, when the blast from the Manacle’s side of the cave-in took us by surprise. I was thrown by the explosion. My body slammed into the wall so hard, my world went black.

Chapter 25

As I battled from the depths of unconsciousness, it felt like a blacksmith was working his anvil against my skull.

I lifted my head, every muscle crying in pain, and tensed at the exertion. My tongue felt awkward, my limbs heavy, and my brain slow. I tried to stand, but discovered ropes tying me to the chair, pinning my arms behind my back. From the feel of it, my ankles were also bound. Splinters from the chair poked through the fabric of my clothes and into my skin.

An overwhelming, sulfurous stench clouded the air. I knew that smell, the remains of evil magic. My father had shown me a place desecrated by it once. I opened my dry eyes, but little light penetrated the blackness. I was in a dungeon-like room with low ceilings, about thirty feet long and half as wide, lit by a few guttering torches.

I struggled at the restraints holding my wrists, but couldn’t wiggle free. My mind was too muddled to think of a spell to loosen them. Where were the others? Were they already dead?

My gut burned like
it’d been sliced by a knife. William . . .

The chair wobbled on uneven legs at my efforts, the ropes ripping at a wound in my side, the white-hot pain bringing a scream from my throat I couldn’t control. Warm, sticky blood trickled from it, its metallic scent mingling with the sulfurous stench of magic to produce a new, nauseating smell.

Outside of the throbbing headache, I heard a swish of sound, like the rush of water in a stream. I didn’t just hear it, I
felt
it, resonating inside me. Like the tail of a kite, I could follow it to its source.

A muffled scream and the frantic rattling of chains, coming from the thread I’d been following, sent my already terrified heart pounding fiercely. I twisted my head around and winced as the pounding in my head increased.

Even in the failing light I could make out the familiar and disheveled form of Clay, his mouth gagged, his hands chained above his head, forcing him to stand. His feet were also in shackles, which rattled as he swayed.

The door groaned open, bringing in a wave of fresh air that stirred up the sulfur. Two people entered: a guard I recognized and Larissa, a powerful
Guardian who was well-known for an eccentric streak that bordered on cruelty. Her long, black curls hung unbound to her waist, her eyes almost as dark as her hair. Her magical essence filled the room, like a midnight cloud obscuring the moon. She tapped long colored fingernails against her lips. Few knew that her nails magically shifted colors to detect people’s lies. Robert, the guard, was swinging a lantern from his arm and its light glistened off the rows of grimy, rusty tools arranged on a table next to the door. Sweat dripped between my shoulder blades as he picked up a sickle and ran its sharp edge against a whetstone.

Smiling sickeningly, he brought the tip to my ear, allowing the curve of the blade to wrap like a snake around my neck. My breath caught in my throat as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pressed them back against his solid chest. My teeth chattered freely as I sucked in air, trying to shrink away from the curved blade at my throat.

The swishing sound grew louder, fragmenting toward other locations. It dulled my pain as it called to me, pulsing in distinct steady rhythms.

Larissa strolled from her place next to the door, walking out of my range of my vision. With a violent twist, Robert spun my chair around in time to see Larissa remove the gag from Clay’s mouth.

“Let her go,” Clay shouted instantly, rattling the chains that bound him.

“We won’t hurt her,” Larissa said, with a silky smile. “If you answer a few questions, of course.”

Clay glared at her fiercely and pressed his lips together.

“Don’t answer her,” I tried to tell him, but my tongue was still awkward in my mouth and my words made no sense.

“What did you do to her?” Clay demanded, his face turning red.

“We numbed her senses. She seems to have a bit of power.” Larissa spared me a glance before returning her attention to Clay. “Where are the three others that were with you?”

They hadn’t found Pearl, Lafe, or William. Joy leapt in my chest. Clay must have had the same feeling because his eyes snapped to mine and he winked at me.

“No answer?”

He shook his head.

“We shall see if this loosens your tongue.”

Mumbling a spell and flicking a finger at me, Larissa sent pain blazing through me. Robert lowered the sickle and moved away from me while my body shook, spears of pain lancing every part of me. Bursts of white light exploded in front of my eyes, and a guttural scream ripped from my throat. The cries echoed off the walls like a discordant choir of bells. Clay's furious demands to stop added to the din, and I forced myself to catch his eyes, shaking my head and begging him not to give them what they wanted. Hot, salty tears streamed down my cheeks.

I tried to reach for my magic, but couldn’t find it. It was like someone had put a wet blanket over the fire of my power, smothering even the tiniest embers. When I was on the brink of unconsciousness, Larissa's manicured finger lowered and the pain ebbed. I could barely think; I was only vaguely aware of my body slumped against the chair, taking in ragged, panting breaths of pure survival. Clay's screams had stopped as well, and aside from my labored breathing, the only sound to be heard was Larissa's satisfied laughter.

How long could I last?

Everyone had a breaking point. Inching back up into my chair, I glared at Larissa, hatred flooding my chest. I had never been on friendly terms with her, although she had always been respectful. But Larissa had never been possessed of the nurturing kindness many of the other Guardians had. The easiness of her manner suggested a comfort and confidence that only came with years of practice. How many people had she tortured in this room?

She stalked toward Clay, the magic building in her upraised fingers. The rhythmic swishing echoed more loudly in my ears and body, one branch quickening slightly. I rattled in my chair, desperate for her attention to return to me.

“Done already, Larissa?” I choked out. She startled at the sound of her name and wheeled around, her eyes glinting with suspicion. She raised her hand at
me and cast, slipping a magical muzzle over my mouth. Then she cast again, a jolt of agony convulsing through me. I opened my mouth to scream, but the seal over my lips silenced my cries.

Clay paled. “Stop! I’ll answer your questions; she doesn't know anything.
” Larissa seductively caressed Clay’s cheek, leaning in close to him. “Such a handsome face. I would hate for Robert to have to destroy it.”

Clay jerked his head sharply away. “Ask what you want.”

“Why did you sneak into the palace?” Her voice lost its silky purr and changed to a deep alto of authority.

“We wanted to steal the Emmía’s blood,” Clay lied smoothly.

Larissa frowned as she examined her black nails and her mouth puckered. “Do not lie to me.” She slapped him harshly across the cheek, filling the room with the clatter of the chains that held him fast.

“How did you get through the barrier?” she demanded.

Clay met her gaze and answered truthfully. “We came through with Dorian, the Hound. We were covered by a spell so no one could see us.”

Larissa looked down at her nails again and I watched the color change to purple. Larissa's face blanched and she let out a gasp. “It isn’t possible. There is no such spell! Which Guardian helped you?”

Clay stared mutely at the wall, and Larissa slapped him again. He squared his shoulders, spitting at her, his saliva red with blood. His eyes flashed silver, frosting over with an iciness I had never seen before.

Larissa paced around him, considering, and tapped one of her long, talon-like nails against her lip before starting a new line of questioning. “Who are you?”

“Clayton Fredricks.”

Larissa examined her hand and nodded to herself. “Are you a citizen of the kingdom?”

The vein in Clay’s neck pulsed. “No.”

She ran a finger along her nails watching them closely. “Another lie. Who are your people?”

“I have no people. My family is dead.”

“Stop lying,” she said, studying her nails, and I saw them change to black in an instant. She pointed toward me and Clay burst in with an explanation before the pain could begin again.

“I do have a sister-in-law. A widow. My brother is dead.”

Again Larissa glanced at her fingers. “You lie; your brother lives.” Clay and I exchanged looks again. I fought the trembling of a smile despite our circumstances. Larissa pursed her lips for a moment. “Who is this woman?” She gestured toward me.

Clay hesitated before admitting, “Sheridan. She is my sister-in-law.”

Larissa looked at her nails, now a deep purple. Amusement flooded her face and she looked at me and laughed. “Indeed? Tell me, what do you know of her and her people?”

Clay raised and lowered his shoulders. “Nothing.”

She scoffed at him. “You know she is a witch.” Clay went silent. “Is your brother much older than you?”

“A year.”

“Is he as handsome as you?”

“Some would say so.”

“Then he married her for her magic.”

“No.”

She considered that. “Then why would a young, handsome man marry her? Surely you don't expect me to believe that he married her of his own free will?”

Clay shook his head. “The ship’s crew insisted that only a married woman could remain on board, and he volunteered to wed her.”

The
Guardian raised an amused eyebrow. “So, you’re a sailor?”

Clay closed his eyes at the slip of his tongue, as if it were a physical blow.

It didn't escape Larissa's notice. “A sailor and a member of the kingdom. Did you learn your trade here at the Academy?”

I could see his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

“Did you graduate?”

“Yes.”

“I don't recognize you. Were you dismissed from the navy?”

His nostrils flared and his chest heaved. “No.”

My mind stumbled on that new piece of information. He not only graduated from the Academy, but had been part of the navy? Had he known my father, or the Admiral? When he’d met the Admiral during the battle, they hadn’t seemed to know each other.

“Do you know anything about the Emmía’s location?” Larissa pressed, looking like an animal narrowing in for the kill.

“No,” Clay answered. “I fear she might be dead.”

Larissa stared at her nails, her expression confused. “Hmm . . . and how long has this woman been a part of your crew?”

“A few weeks.”

“Why did you trespass into the kingdom today?”

He worked the muscles on his neck and pressed his lips together.

“You’re only causing her pain,” she said, waving her finger at me and sending a jolt of pain through me.