Torrents (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

     All through the night, I walked concentrating my thoughts on the task ahead and what I must do.

     Just as the sky began to lighten, I laid down upon the bed and closed my eyes, my hands twisting with worry, until finally, they relaxed and I drifted into unconsciousness.

A crisp sky streaked with blinding sunshine greeted me the next day. Beyond the draped curtains of mourning, the world was smiling. But there was nothing joyful about what lay before me.

     Standing in the king’s office once more, my eyes flickered around the room; the faces of the Lathmorian elite surrounded me. I knew most of them and had spoken to some on several occasions before we left to rescue Patrick. But times had changed since then.

     They stood in small groups conversing with one another in low muted tones. From what I could catch of their words, the topics were mere distractions for what was about to take place. The murmurs, of the roughly forty soldiers, did little to calm the nerves in my stomach or the sweating of my palms.

     A soft breeze trickled in from the open windows and lifted the dark, veiled curtains in a ripple. Strands of hair drifted around my face, as I shifted my feet on the marble floor. For once, I wasn’t standing within the black diamond in the center of the room. Instead, I stood directly in front of it, facing the back door. A steel chair with large arm rests had been brought into the room. I tried not to look at the chains which hung loose on its sides.

     Swallowing heavily, I heard the approaching feet from outside the door and edged closer to the black diamond. If I looked hard enough, I could see my own reflection in the gloomy stone. The girl in the floor was pale and uncertain and I did my best to cast my fears aside as my eyes flitted once more around the room.

     Everyone grew silent as the sounds of approaching feet reached us. The small clusters of Lathmorians split down the middle to create two united fronts on either side of the room. In the middle of the group on my left, stood Voon; his eyes hadn’t left my face since I walked in. I wondered what it was he could be thinking. Beside him stood Daggin and Nixie; she winked at me and I wanted to smile back, but I couldn’t seem to get the muscles in my face to work in such a manner.

     The door opened with a clang and two Lathmorian soldiers marched into the wide office. My eyes widened, immediately focused on the Hyven soldier in front of me. My heart began to accelerate as she marched into the room, her head held high and her torn clothes a badge of honor.

     Dark curls hung in unkempt ringlets around her face and the wind lifted them as her eyes met my own. A chill ran down my spine as I looked into her golden orbs, the hint of a smile flitted over her lips. It was Verna, the mermaid who had helped capture me the night of Nixie’s wedding, and by the tinge of amusement around her mouth, it was obvious she was remembering our last encounter.

     The Lathmorian soldiers shoved her into the steel chair and the clanging of the metal chains filled the room as they diligently strapped her in. Her arms slipped inside the large armrests and straps kept them from budging more than an inch. It took a second for me to realize her hands were covered by the armrests as well; her blades rendered ineffective. As the final clasps and chains were locked into place, the soldiers stepped away and faded into the background behind her.

     “You are Verna of Hyvar, correct?” Tunder’s voice boomed from behind me. He stood in what used to be the king’s place at the desk; Shaylee, Elik and Kryssa by his sides. Verna pulled her eyes away from me and glanced above my head.

     “Yes,” she said, and pursed her lips as though being questioned was a routine occurrence. My heart continued to pound heavily within my chest, even as I straightened my spine attempting to quell the rolling nerves in my gut. “And you’re Tunder, King of Lathmor? Oh, wait, I’m confused, who is the Lathmorian king?” She laughed and licked her bottom lip as the room filled with irate murmurs and shifting bodies.

     Her words had more of an effect on me than she should have wanted them to. 

     Thinking, of the recently murdered king, brought my anger to the forefront of my mind. I suddenly realized how I was going to get through this. My mind’s eye conjured the image of Zale the night I was attacked by Bolrock. At the time he had been angry, but it was controlled and veiled within to create a semblance of dominance over his rival. The realization filled me with a surge of courage.

     “You said your name is Verna?” I asked, and the room stilled. In some way I knew I had spoken out of turn. There was a process I needed to follow to get the answers Tunder wanted, and I would do what was asked of me.

     “Yes,” she said and I tried not to look at how her cheek bones stuck out from her face. She looked gaunt, her eyes taking up most of her face where a sharp nose turned upward at its tip. “Don’t you remember me?”  She licked her bottom lip.

     “Of course,” I said and shifted my feet again, as though it was no concern of mine. “Actually, I remember your voice even more.”

     The dark prisoner cocked her head to the side. She pursed her lips and though I could tell she wanted to ask me what I meant, she remained silent.

     “Do you remember speaking to Gell the night I escaped Hyvar?” Her eyes snapped, the fire in them beginning to glow. I widened my stance, hands connected behind my back. “I was just inside the room, and neither of you knew I could hear you. See, Morven had accidentally left my door open.” I gave a half-laugh and tried to still the nerves in my stomach, knowing I was getting close. “Did Morven tell you what happened? When he left my room, he slammed the door behind him, but it didn’t fully close.”

     Verna’s upper lip twitched and she shifted in her chair, the chains clinking as they restrained her small frame. My eyes alighted on her collar bone and how it remained ridged above the rest of her body, as though not belonging. The pale skin stretched over it and fell down on either side. I had to draw my eyes away in order to concentrate on the task at hand; she was about to take the bait.

     “Don’t you find it interesting, all of this,” I waved my hands around at my sides, “happened because your
Lord
Morven couldn’t close a door?”

     The dark figure let forth a stream of profanities naming me as all sorts of creatures and beings, and I smiled to myself. She continued to roar, her emotions pouring out of her, her control slipping with every second. Inside, I began to gather my voice.

     Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, the words filling my mind until it was all that remained. Stilling my beating heart, I looked up at the prisoner before me, my eyes meeting her gold ones. She snarled and let forth another list of names which she bestowed upon my head, and though my quivering stomach wanted to shatter my façade of courage, I forced it aside as I raised my chin to look down upon the mermaid before me.

     Without warning, my voice rose from my throat, a tune which at first was soft, but then gathered in strength. The words Tunder had told me to use filled my mind and I forced them upon her. I had picked the easiest question, thinking to start with the smaller and work up to the larger.

    
How many Hyven soldiers are left?
The stream of words came to a sudden halt and she stared at me in shock. I repeated the question and she struggled against the resistant chains. Over and over again, I repeated the words in my mind and pushed them toward her, they swirled around her and after a few minutes, she opened her mouth to answer and then closed it quickly.  

     Encouraged, I pressed harder, my voice growing upon a wave around the room, beckoning her to give in to my will and answer.

     As I repeated the question, her eyes shifted toward the floor and the control I had over her slipped back. She shook her head back and forth and my tone changed.
Look at me
, I called and she shook her head again, even though it lifted a mere inch. Taking it as a victory, I urged harder, my mind straining to push the words toward her.
Look at me
, I commanded, my tune echoing throughout the room.

     Her head lifted, slowly, each second passing in agony, as I bent her to my will. Sweat beaded on my brow and slipped down the side of my face, but before I realized what was happening, her golden eyes were once again held by my own. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I gathered my courage once more.

    
You can tell me
,
I smiled as I pushed those thoughts into my voice and her eyes cleared for a moment. Seeing my advantage, I grasped at it.
How many Hyven soldiers are there?

     Her mouth opened and closed again, but upon parting once more, the words poured out of her tight lips.

     “Just under six hundred,” she said and gasped as though I had slapped her across the face. She looked away and I grappled to gain her attention once more. The room around us was silent and it felt as though we were the only two within the room.

     As I forced her to bring her eyes back to mine, I felt the rest of the world fall away and her attempts at resisting my will grew weaker. Each time she tried to pull away, I brought her back with beckoning appeals she couldn’t resist.

    
What is Morven planning?
I called to her and she shook her head, but kept her eyes on my own. Her gaze never faltered; her lips remaining in a firm line.
Tell me,
I called, as though offering a helping hand. She shook her head once more and I built another wave of song for her to fight off,
What has Morven done for you? Nothing. Now tell me.

    
My words drifted around her and as they filled her ears, her eyes kindled with fire once more. I tried not to smile as I saw the anger in her eyes, she was taking the bait. Her mouth had been pressed in a firm line, but it loosened as she heard my words about her master again.

     Suddenly, her mouth opened and her anger poured forth, I pounced on my chance.
What is Morven planning?

     “He—he—” she broke off, trying to close her eyes and I thwarted her efforts with a beckoning call of my own.

    
It’s easier to tell me
,
I murmured and her lips opened, her anger disappearing.

     “There will be an attack, one to end it all,” she gasped.

    
When?
I pushed the word forward to swirl around her.

     “I don’t know,” she said and her golden eyes never faltered. “Lord Morven never told me.”

   
Why?

     “Because he trusts no one.” She said, seeming to give in more easily, as though succumbing to her fate. Every now and again, her mind would push back against my words, but I fought against it, the feeling was intoxicating and I pushed onward.

    
Why?
I sang again, making the word swirl around her.

     “Ever since Zale left, Lord Morven won’t tell us his plans,” she grimaced as the words left her lips.

    
Is all of Hyvar loyal to him?
Anger flashed in her eyes and her lip curled into a snarl.

     “Yes,” she spit the word at me. “When Bolrock was murdered by that beast, the soldiers who remained behind were rewarded for their loyalty.”

     My thoughts took control for a moment, and I realized how isolated Bolrock had really been. He had been playing with fire, to end what he had started. There was no going back after he had doubted his leader, I had heard Morven confess with his own lips he had expected Zale to overpower his head guard.

     “Ressa is waiting for her chance at revenge,” Verna said, her words filled with poison and I realized I had let her regain control of her own thoughts. Cursing myself internally, I began to swirl my words around her again but my control was slipping.

     “Do you remember Bolrock’s sister?” her words spilled from her mouth and messed with my concentration. “She was there the night you escaped Hyvar, to leave poor dear Patrick to his fate.”

     Frustration gathered inside as I tried to block her words from my mind. Thinking of Zale’s composure, I stymied the thoughts and gathered my voice around me.

     “Does your arm still hurt?” She asked, “I hear Zale saved you just in time. Weren’t you screaming for Patrick as Bolrock split your arm open?” Her words tore at me, but as she spoke I quelled my anger and waited for an opening. “He cut you open for the world to see. You’re nothing special, just some stupid girl who got caught up in something she should never have been a part of.” With each word she spoke, her anger rose and as she finished I pounced, knowing her anger was my opening.

    
Then why am I controlling you?
I called and felt the sweat run down my back.
Why am I able to make you tell me things you never would? How is it you can’t fight back? Why did Morven pick me? Why?
I taunted her and she blanched, letting me back in.

    
Tell me,
I cried, my frustration coupling with my anger, and her shoulders hunched.
Tell me!

    
My voice was no longer an urging, but a direct command. She flinched in the chair as though I had struck her. Her shoulders slumped forward, but her eyes remained focused on mine. I felt as though I had won some battle and watched as her mouth opened without hindrance.

     “Morven told us about the night he first saw you,” her words slipped from her mouth and I wondered if she was even aware she was saying them. “Your voice drew him to you. He sang along, but you heard him. Humans aren’t supposed to hear merfolk. That’s when he knew.”