Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (36 page)

“Which way?” Kel asked.

“I don’t know. Hold on.” I returned to the first pair of guards, both of whom still sat back to back, contented enough with their lot. I might not have enough power left to wrestle another mind into submission, but I’d use these.

My stomach turned as I called silently to the baker, the one who had been crying earlier. He’d seemed at least somewhat knowledgable. “Do you know where they’re performing the execution?” I asked quietly. I could have just searched for the information, but speaking the question aloud brought the answer to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh…this way.” He crossed the plank and started toward the junction inside the wall. Maintaining my hold on him was far easier than establishing it had been, but still I felt my hold slipping, again and again. Each time it did, he stopped moving. Stopped thinking.

Don’t worry about what you’ve done
, I told myself.

“Don’t worry,” the man echoed.

Kel took a sharp breath and shook his head. “Don’t mind me. Takes some getting used to.”

Our hostage took us left, away from the indoor canal and up a short set of steps to a wide corridor that followed the path of the wall. Widely-spaced torches left broad and deep shadows. The hall was empty, save for the tension among my friends that hung thick in the air. Every noise, every air current that made the torch-light flicker set us more on edge.

We passed wooden doors, all of them closed.

“What are those rooms?” I asked.

“Mostly staircases up,” the baker said. “I don’t think much happens on this level. Entrances. Exits.” He reached up to scratch his arm, though I hadn’t told him to do so. He looked back at me and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

Not yet.
I dug deeper into his thoughts, and his expression flattened. We needed to get rid of him, though. I wouldn’t be able to hold on forever.

“Where are we going, exactly?” I asked him.

“There.” He pointed at the wall, toward what would be the interior of the structure. The courtyard. “Way across, but that’s all I know. Come here.” He moved to a door and batted a hand against the wood panels. Kel leaned against it, listening. The latch clicked softly, and Kel pushed the door in to reveal a dark stairwell. A window on the far wall, too narrow to climb through, showed a view of the yard, distorted by old glass. Lights still flickered out there, but otherwise the place seemed quiet.

“They might be done,” our captive said. “I hope so. Once they’re done, maybe I can go home.”

Kel stepped between me and the guard before I could react.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” I said. “Not more. You’re sure that’s all you know, friend?”

“Yes.”

I dug deeper in his thoughts, just to be sure, and ignored memories of his family, his friends, his life. All of it was irrelevant. There was nothing more there about the fortress.

“Leave him,” I said, and turned to go.

He tried to follow.

“Stay.”

He blinked at me, and moved again toward the door.

“Go ahead,” I told the others. Cassia listened at the door, then hurried out, followed by Nox and Kel.

I gathered my magic.

“You deserve far worse than this,” I whispered, and stepped into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind me. I sent a blast of magic into the lock, jamming it. Smoke rose from the door handle, and I hissed as I pulled my hand away. Blisters formed on my palm.

A faint knocking came from the other side of the door as we walked away. At least he’d stopped crying.

Cassia looked back over her shoulder.

“He’ll recover,” I told her.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

We stuck to the shadows as well as we could, though there was no sign of anyone else roaming the corridor. The baker had said they were short-staffed, but someone would be around, and they’d show up the moment we let our guard down.

Nox drew her daggers as we stepped into a dimly-lit alcove and stopped.

“Are you any good with those?” Kel asked her, his voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t last long up north if you can’t defend yourself. I’m not completely useless without my potions.” She gave him a cocky little smile and tossed a dagger in the air. It rotated once, and she caught it neatly by the handle. “Didn’t see that in me, did you?”

“You’re full of surprises.”

“Stop it,” I muttered. If we got out alive, they’d have time to flirt later. If they kept it up, they’d get us all killed.

Nox darted across the hall and flattened herself against the wall. With her dark hair hanging over her face and the gray clothing she now wore, she blended in with the deep shadows. “I don’t see anything.”

I started to let my awareness out, and hesitated. Even with that, a skill I’d been using for years and that hardly required any effort from me, I felt an instant drain on my magic. I was pulling from a nearly-empty well now, thanks to my transformation earlier in the night and everything that had followed.

I nodded to Nox, and we moved on.

Around the next corner, we came to a doorway leading out into the courtyard. I crouched and crept to the window. A group of men stood outside a door on the adjoining section wall, talking and laughing. No tension in their postures, no sign that they were waiting for a fight, and yet all appeared to be armed.

Kel knelt beside me and looked out. “What do you think?”

“That’s probably the way we want to go.”

“That guy couldn’t tell you anything else?”

“No. But it fits. If all of the staff here are involved, they’re waiting for something before they can go ahead.”

“Of course.”

I knew he was thinking the same thing I was, that it was just as likely they were standing around because the job was done.

“You should all stay here,” I said. “I appreciate your help. I couldn’t have made it without you. But this is too dangerous. If you—”

“Please, gods, no speeches,” Nox groaned under her breath as she stepped to the window. “Don’t be a stupid arse. We’ll watch your back in case—Aren, the guards are moving.”

She didn’t have to tell me. I saw. The door behind them opened, spilling a rectangle of bright light into the shadows of the yard. Someone leaned out, and the men all straightened their shoulders and placed their hands on their weapons. The door closed again, leaving the men to guard it.

My muscles tightened. My breath slowed.

Time’s up.

My friends followed me out the door, weapons ready. Long, dewy grass chilled the bottoms of my feet and re-soaked the hem of my pants, and the chill in the air would have had me shivering had I not been warmed by the fire building inside me. Calm descended over my mind as I calculated attack angles. No magic this time.

Cassia grabbed my arm. I stopped. She loosened the strap on her bag so it hung lower and pulled out a long dragon flare and a flint, both of which had been wrapped in cloth. She covered her eyes, then checked to make sure we all understood.

Gods bless you
, I thought.

Kel placed a hand on my arm and leaned in. “We’ll keep them out of the way. You get in there, and we’ll follow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

To think I’d once preferred solitude.

We moved forward again. Cassia put the flint to the flare and scratched. Nothing happened.

I motioned for her to hold out the flare. Nox narrowed her eyes, and I wondered whether she could feel my lack of power as she felt it in the land. Surely not. She was only a Potioner, and we barely knew each other. Still, she seemed concerned.

As was I. Still, I turned my back on the guards and managed a weak flame. The flare burst to bright life, and Cassia threw it in a long, spiraling arc at the guards.

“What in God’s name is—” one of them managed before the flare brightened further. I squeezed my eyes closed. Even with my hands over my face, the brightest moment of the flare’s burn cut through, leaving me blinded. As soon as I could risk opening my eyes, I ran forward, squinting against the flickering light. Kel took out one guard with a solid punch to the jaw that the man didn’t see coming. My mer friends may not have been trained to fight on land, but they would manage.

I hit the door with my shoulder before I saw it, pulled back on the handle, and was relieved to find it unlocked. I ducked into another empty corridor, closed the door tight, stood with my back to the opposite wall as I waited for the white spots to fade from my vision. Sounds of battle continued outside the door—thuds, grunts, a groan. No warning shouts, though. I hoped that meant my friends would take the guards down before they had a chance to call more.

This hallway was narrower than the last one, with doors along one side that might have led to rooms, or simply to more staircases. No sounds betrayed human presence. I moved forward, listening at each door. Nothing, save for the sound of water dripping somewhere ahead of me, counting off the seconds.

Too late. You’re going to be too late.

Finally, muffled voices reached me. I pressed my ear to the smooth wood of the door, but heard only mumbles. Two men, I thought. The creak of another door opening, and a dull click.

The mumbling continued, but only one voice spoke. I adjusted my grip on my knife and pressed down on the latch to open the door. The voice inside stopped. Footsteps approached. I flung the door wide and leapt into the room, knife ready.

The first thing to catch my eye was the tall, broad, brown-haired man who jumped back as the door swung open. He had his own knife in hand, and slashed out. I ducked, and slammed the door behind me. A sharp pain stabbed into my left foot, sending a bolt of agony up the length of my leg. I ignored it.

The next thing I noticed was the red-haired figure lying motionless on a hard table in the corner, gagged and bound, clad in a blood-stained white dress and familiar knee-high boots. The beginnings of a bruise covered one side of her face, surrounding cracked skin over her cheekbone. Dried blood trailed from her nose to her lip and from above her hairline over her temple. A fresh trail of glistening blood flowed from a shallow cut just below her collarbone.

My opponent tried to circle behind me. I tore my eyes away from Rowan and spun. The other man didn’t speak again, but I knew well enough who he was.

Callum Langley.

“You’re done here,” I told him.

“Not quite.” He swallowed hard and stepped backward toward the table. His eyes darted toward the other door, set into the wall to his left. “Just give me a moment.”

Rowan’s eyes fluttered open and widened. I looked away from her and tried to keep his attention on me. He lunged forward, bringing his knife toward my throat. Instead of jumping back, I spun sideways and delivered a punch to his jaw. The knife glanced off my arm as he stumbled, drawing blood but not doing nearly the damage he’d intended. I grabbed for his weapon, momentarily forgetting the burns on my left hand—and the fact that my magic wasn’t healing them. I winced and flung the weapon aside. It skittered under the table.

Callum regrouped quickly and ran at me, hunched forward, and his shoulder collided with my stomach, forcing me back until my head connected with the wall. Everything in the room doubled before my eyes. I brought my own knife up behind him and slipped it upward under his ribs. Not deep enough. He gasped and jerked away, and I pulled my blade free.

He backed away, hands open, inviting me to come at him again, and moved toward the table—and toward a set of knives I hadn’t spotted hung low on the wall, long and cruel, and I assumed deadly sharp.

A line of blood dribbled from his lips, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced back at Rowan, whose eyes had closed again. Drugged, I supposed.

I stepped forward, and my leg buckled under me as pain from my injured foot shot upward again.

I couldn’t get to her before he would.

Langley reached for a knife. In one motion he pulled it from the wall and raised it, then brought it toward Rowan’s throat as I lunged toward him.

In an instant, Rowan’s eyes flew open, she tucked her legs up to her chest, and she kicked out with both, catching Langley in the stomach. He stumbled backward, turned, and caught himself—but not before I buried my knife in his chest and pushed upward into his heart. Hot blood flowed over my hand, and I released the knife.

Langley stepped back, an expression of shock on his face. “How dare you?”

Someone pounded on the door I’d entered by as Langley backed toward the other. His legs bent, and he sank to the floor. He turned to Rowan.

“I never wanted this,” he choked, and collapsed. I waited. He didn’t move.

Rowan moaned. I limped to the table, where she tried to push herself up. Her hands, I saw now, were not bound by rope, but by broad, blue-metal manacles that reached high on her forearms, attached by a chain to the wall. I pulled the gag from her mouth and sat on the table. She appeared dazed. Drugged. She collapsed against me, sobbing, and I wrapped my arms around her.

My head felt weightless, my thoughts muddled. All I understood was that I’d found her. Nothing had ever felt so real and important as she did then, pressed against me. Her body trembled, and I held her tighter, though my arms were no more stable. I ran my hands over her back, touched her hair and her face until I’d convinced myself she was alive.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she said, and leaned back. Her eyes searched mine, then looked me over, drinking me in. “I never should have left Belleisle. I’m so sorry.”

“What have I told you about apologizing?”

She laughed softly, and another tear rolled down her cheek. I reached up to tangle my fingers in her filthy hair, and pulled her into a deep kiss. She leaned in, pressing her lips so hard against mine that I thought they’d break. She tasted like blood and tears, and nothing had ever been so sweet. Danger and death surrounded us, but seeing her again, having her close, cut through all of it and strengthened my body and my spirit. Even if I died in that compound, at least I would be with her.

But by the gods, I would fight to get us out.

The chain behind her rattled. “I want to touch you,” she murmured, and pulled back. “And I want these off.”