Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1) (28 page)

They consume Margo’s soul.

Words escape her. She cannot disconnect her eyes from this woman. She cannot speak. Cannot move. Cannot fight. This woman before her… She simply stares at Margo and renders her useless.

A whimper escapes her lips.

Cameron shuffles his feet. Ian draws his weapons to fight, but Margo knows it is too late. Too late. She has brought them to their deaths. Where has her level head gone? She is always the one to think things through. Always the one to be cautious. This idea is so… So Kylie.

“Your name, child?” The voice is as sharp as glass, an echo of hatred in the cold room.

But Margo cannot, nor does she want to, respond. Her knees simply shake as she holds tight to her sword.

How could she have ever thought the Queen could possibly be good? That she brought people in to share her magnificent land rather than to imprison them?

“Shaken to the point she can no longer recall her own name.” The Queen belts a laugh. It is awful sounding, cruel and spiteful. “Well since you can no longer remember who you are, I suppose I must continue addressing you as ‘child.’ You are, I must admit, an interesting Mark. There is no doubt about that.” She rises to her feet. Her guards shift their weight, awaiting her orders. “But a Mark, nonetheless. And Marks must be dealt with.”

She takes a step down the staircase. Margo trembles.

“Easy there,” whispers Ian.

Cameron simply gulps, as if in the same sort of trance.

The Queen’s laugh returns, though a softer maniacal version. “It’s a pity, really. You are but a child who has been cast a sour fate. But you,” she points a labradorite-adorned finger at Margo, “are a threat to everything I have created. Everything I am. And you will
not
ruin everything that is mine.” She takes a breath, which fails to calm herself. “Did you assume that because you outsmarted a few of my weaker guards you can prance in here unannounced as if you rule this world? You have fooled yourself, child.
I
am the God of this world. You are a fool for coming here. And a fool for this delusion that possessed you into believing you can defeat me.” The Queen outstretches her right palm, which Margo can now see is littered with the same markings as the guards they fought the day before — over twice as many as are etched into their scalps. They stretch beyond her palm to the tips of her fingers and halfway up her forearm. But there is no time to study them. They soon glow more vivid than Margo has ever witnessed a mark to glow. Greater than Nick’s. Even greater than her own explosive tendencies. She braces herself for an impact that is sure to come.

There is a disturbance behind the Queen. A towering man pulls his way out from the dark curtain behind the throne, clothed in black and standing a good three heads taller than Margo. His skin is dark and warm with eyes lined in black as if missing sleep. His wears a twisted expression.

“Your Majesty,” he says in a rough yet soothing voice. It almost sounds like he is reminding her of something. He places a thick hand on hers.

She turns to him, and though she looks as if she wishes to slash open his face, she orders, “Destroy the Mark. Capture the boys.”

Margo’s stomach wrenches as the dark man leaps from atop the stairs, his thick body dropping down as hard as lead, the whole room trembling. He reaches inside the shadows of his coat to retrieve his weapon.

Cameron comes to. “The mission, Margo. All that matters now is the mission.”

Bile rises in her throat. She understands. They cannot possibly win this battle. They cannot win, unless she can fulfill the Witch’s order. Her eyes skirt to the corner of the room.

“Do not think you are suddenly privileged, Shomari.” The Queen’s voice splits the room again. “Your post.”

The dark man, Shomari, straightens up with a growl. His hand falls to his side, clenched in a fist. But suddenly, Margo can no longer see his face as the other guards have made their move.

“Figure out something,” says Ian. “Fast.”

She is the first to unsheathe her sword, readying it on point. The Queen smirks smugly in response and settles into her seat with hands in claws over the arms of her throne.

Metal slides against her blade — she has blocked his hit at a bad angle.
Swoosh
! Her grip doesn’t falter as she slings her sword behind her, the Crewman barely losing his stride. Cameron’s foot collides with his face.

A glint of light in the corner: a reflection.

White flashes across her vision, pain throbs behind her ear. She falls to the ground painfully as something hit her head. A man cackles down at her from above. Her eyes crack and in the direction of the spherical shape she sees the gold base.

Rolling over onto her back, she lays spread eagle. Wrapped in fabric from his throat to his palms, the man sneers.
Doubling her energy, she separates it from both palms in an explosion. But the Crewman dives out of the way in time. The room rattles and a defiant scream sounds from the dais.

Scrambling to her feet, Margo runs past Cameron, who plunges his sword into the forearm of a writhing foe, to the alcove where the globe rests.

A second blast from her palms as another approaches. She doesn’t falter.

The doors fling open behind them, more Crewmen spilling in. At least a dozen. It has to be now, or it’s over!

A wicked smile spreads across the Queen’s face.

She runs straight to it, charging her power. And releases it at the globe —

The room crackles like heat lightning. The Queen’s face contorts into fear. The globe gathers the energy forming an electric current around it, but instead of breaking, the power reflects off of the glass. The room surges. Vibrations hit Margo.

The arm of the man who hit her earlier flies by; she barely dodges in time. He howls in excitement, the rush of the fight fueling him. Another blow to the head. This time she doesn’t fall, but can feel the blood rushing down from her scalp to her cheek. In the seconds it took for her to shake off the impact, his hands are binding hers.

He rams her into something hard holding her there, and suddenly he is Saul and she is in the woods against the tree. Her eyes squeeze tight. Energy pulses through her — she must mimic the power before. Even if it means losing herself to her mark. Cameron. Ian. They couldn’t die because of her rash decision to confront the Queen.

Energy rushes out, glowing so brightly it burns through her eyelids. Scrambling against his binding arms, Margo tries to break free. But for some reason neither one of them can separate from the other.

Then his screams overpower everything else.

It is a torturous scream, wild and out of control. An instant later and the pain hits her, too. Like flames licking at her body, burning her to the core. It comes on so strongly that Margo cannot help but to writhe against it.

What’s happening?
She understands there are many things this power is capable of, though she is master of no such things. Especially not torture. It seems her latest trick has backfired upon herself.

He trembles, grip tightening on her wrist and waist. Margo’s nails dig into his skin. Neither fight each other, but rather try to stay alive.

She can’t stop it. She pushes against him again, but no relief comes.

A cool breeze rushes over them, and everything is pitch black.
The Crewman releases her leaving her alone in darkness.
The torches must have been blown out during her attack.

Shuffling her feet around on the stone ground, Margo feels out for the wall and nearly trips over what feels like a curb. At any moment the dozens of Guardsmen around her would surely strike. She reaches for the sword that is not on her hip. She panics when she realizes it’s missing and that she probably dropped it during the torture.
She braces herself for the coming fight.

The ground trembles beneath her feet as if a stampede is charging toward them. A light suddenly whips around the corner, a hand on Margo’s cheek, and her body is plastered against the wall. But it is too tight a fit! She is dragged into the wall, somehow melding into the stone.

A train roars past blaring a series of screeches from its track. Margo’s face remains pressed into the wall but she is able to see what is happening. The rush of wind beats against her cheek. A shrill scream escapes. And then, the train rides off into the darkness, the thunderous sounds fading away.

Panting and shaking, Margo is pulled out of the wall and becomes whole again. She scrambles away from the Crewman.

“Stay back!” she warns, rummaging through her bag. She cannot make any sense of this. Her fingers feel around the inside of her bag until at last she feels the small metal tube attached to a ring and clicks the little keychain flashlight on to find his face.

“Whoa! Easy there,” he says protecting his eyes from the light.

She swallows hard, standing in the dark tunnel.

“Who are you? No… It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head, baffled. “Did you just save me?”

“I think
you
saved me,” he muses.

The way he quirks his brow is unsettling. He couldn’t possibly mean that…?

Pressing her back into the wall, Margo feels around her bag for her cell phone. “Stay back,” she warns.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

“Found it!” she says, pushing aside his remark. She presses the power button of the side of her phone and waits for it to turn completely on. And there it is: though faint, her phone shows that it has service.

“We’re back?” she whispers to herself. “Back in the Real World?”

The Crewman whistles. “Looks different from when I was last here. All this fuss over getting home from you occupants…. I almost prefer the Queen’s place.”

“Will you shut it?!”

Margo holds his glare, which he can’t see because she still has her light trained on his eyes.

A light! Beyond the curve of the tunnel, she can make out a faint glow. The irony of that sentence gives her chills, but she begins walking toward the light all the same, the noisy Crewman on her heel.

A million thoughts race through her head. Firstly, why are she and this man the only two in this train tunnel? Her gut tells her there was no finality in whatever act caused them to escape. Which brings her to the next question she’s almost afraid to ask: what happened to Cameron and Ian?

She misses a step. The Crewman reaches out for her arm, catching her fall. She carries on without a word.

“I’m Luka, by the way.” He stretches out a hand, and then slowly pulls it away after receiving Margo’s cold glare.

Why a tunnel? Of all places, why would they end up here?

She clicks off the flashlight when they reach the lighted part of the tunnel. The tracks curve to the left after another minute’s walk and were soon joined by a second track on the other side of a concrete barrier. Faint yellow lights line the walls.

“I think it’s a subway,” Margo says.

“Come again?”

She rolls her eyes. It’s hard to accept that someone so lethal in that world can be so naive in this one.

“Not going to give me your name, are you?” Luka asks.

Her lips in a tight line, she turns away curtly. “Margo.”

“Ahh, Margo… The New Mark. First to ever leave Jamyria.” His eyes meet hers. “Her Majesty’s going to be very upset with you.”

The blood drains from her cheeks thinking of Cameron.

Light floods ahead of them from an open space. The Crewman pushes Margo on top of a ledge when she is unable to pull herself up; she thanks him begrudgingly. As casually as possible, they walk away from the track they just scrambled out of and into the station. No one notices them.

Margo sits down on the first bench she sees, without another glance at Luka, wondering what she could have possibly done, and if she’d really destroyed Jamyria.

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Acceptance

A knee cuts into the back of Cameron’s neck making it impossible to breathe. His legs flail out behind him but are unable to catch hold of anything. It’s over. They lost. From the moment Margo disappeared, he knew there was nothing left.

The Crewman shifts his weight barely allowing him to suck in a breath of air before his back buckles from a painful blow.

“There’s no need for anymore.” The voice is ice splitting the heat of battle. Such a half-hearted command, yet so final. The man pulls Cameron to his knees, holding him by the wrists to prevent him from lashing out any further. But Cameron is out of strength both physically and emotionally.

They took her away from him. Margo has vanished, and it’s his fault for going along with her stupid idea of destroying that globe. He recalls the Queen’s smirk as Margo tried splitting it open. She couldn’t even leave a scratch.

Head dangling, Cameron turns his face to see his ally held captive, as well. Ian stands between two Crewmen, arms at his sides. They flank him, faces hard but wearing a slight look of confusion.

What has Ian done now?

“Working with the Marked One is a serious offense.” The Queen breaks the silence, her voice as cold as the white marble room. Three staccato footsteps let Cameron know she is approaching, but he cannot take his eyes off of Ian.

Can’t the Guard see he is the stronger of the two? When they fought in the woods, the Crewmen tripled up on Ian from the moment they’d crossed blades. Now they stand almost casually around him. Why is that?

“A crime equal to death. Of course, if I killed everyone who wished to escape my world or chose to associate themselves with the Marked One, my work would continually suffer.” Nails dig into Cameron’s scalp, and his eyes are suddenly boring into the Queen’s ferocious greys. “Your name, boy?”

Every cell in his body is deadened. His usual annoyance with anyone working for the Queen fades as he stares into the face of every Jamyrian’s fears. A single breath and his life is over. “Cameron,” he splutters.

“You have failed your Queen gravely.”

A ragged, fearful gasp falls from his lips.

She releases her marked fist, letting his head fall limp again. “And you.” Cameron catches sight of her smoky lavender dress trailing behind like a silvery waterfall as she crosses over to Ian. “You had better explain yourself quickly, Ian Tanner.”

She knows his name.

It is the same smile he wears when joking with Margo. The same smile that sickens Cameron every time Ian talks his way out a lie. But he is certain that this time when he wears his annoying crooked smirk, Ian Tanner is not lying.

“I only did what you asked of your Crew, Your Majesty. I brought the Marked One to you.”

The pulling of ligaments shoots fire through Cameron’s arms. He wasn’t even aware he lunged for Ian until the Crewman pulls against him. “You bastard! Margo trusted you.”

He tries to break away again, but this time the pain sends him to his knees.

“You led her straight to the Queen!”

Ian belts out in laughter. “And she was stupid enough to walk right into the castle, too.”

He lunges again, and this time the fire hit his face. A light as bright as the globe washes over him. When he cracks open his eyelids, he finds himself looking up to Ian’s back and lying in a warm, sticky liquid.

“…seems I played my part well,” Ian is saying.

“Yes.” The Queen sits perched on her throne, fingers interlocked and her chin resting upon her hands. “You won’t ever let me doubt you again.” It is more a statement than a question.

“You know where my heart is, Your Majesty.” Ian bows.

“No…” Cameron moans.

“For ridding Jamyria of the New Mark, you may walk the land once again.” The Queen’s lips pull into a beautiful smile.

“No more water?” His tone sounds surprised.

She shakes her head. “Take him to his quarters to tidy up,” she says to her Crew. “Show him your highest respect.”

Ian bows for a second time before turning to leave and patting another Crewman on the back as if they are old pals.

Cameron thrusts himself forward, an arm wrapping around him like a rock. “You killed her, Ian. You took Margo away from me!”

“Killed her?” Eyes black as onyx meet Cameron’s glare. “Hardly.”

A sudden jolt of hope floods Cameron. Not dead? Could that mean that…? No, that would be impossible.

But not for a Mark.

“Oh, Ian.” Voice once again thick as ice, the Queen stops him just as his hand encircles the platinum doorknob. His back tenses before he turns back. “I do hope you are telling me the truth, and that you have no further attachment to your friend here. If there is anything you wish to tell me, speak now.”

Cameron shakes at the fierceness in her words, but Ian simply looks down at him in disgust. “He is no friend of mine. Do what you please to him.”

The door closes, echoing through the Queen’s chambers.

*

They aren’t coming. Margo and the Crewman had been sitting on the bench for over an hour watching the changing crowd before them. If Cameron or Ian had been freed, they surely would have come by now.

“You don’t even know what you did, do you?” Luka breaks the silence.

Margo perks up slightly, then drops her chin back to her knees.

“I had you. You’re not a very good fighter, you know. I rammed you into the globe because it was the closest thing I could pin you against; you wouldn’t stop wiggling. Then your mark lit up, and I figured you would try to take me down. But I felt the globe, just like when I entered. Only it felt like fire this time, not ice.”

She buries her face in the crook of her elbow. “So I ran? Subconsciously, I ran.”

Luka remains silent.

“My mark does this thing,” she tries to explain, “where it acts on its own. Like it’s keeping me safe.”

He lets out a sound of understanding. “So that’s how you picked off Saul… And that idiot thought he could be a Noble.” He chuckles.

“Aren’t you going to try to kill me, or something?” she mumbles, her mouth still buried in the fabric of her shirt.

He pauses, considering. “Nah, what difference would that make? Jamyria’s done for us. Now we’re onto better things. Although, I still don’t understand what makes this box of a world so special.”

Margo sits up out of annoyance. “We’re at a subway station. Underground transportation; meaning, we’re underground. You don’t know anything, do you?”

Tenderly touching the gash across her forehead, Margo thinks about Freya and selfishly wishes she could borrow her gift. Guilt washes over her. Freya would trade her gift in an instant if it meant she could be sitting where Margo sits.

It isn’t fair! Her fist knots her hair. For eight days, she fought for escape. Not for herself, but for Cameron. And all she’s accomplished is saving her own neck and betraying the boy she loves and the boy she befriended. It isn’t fair that she’s returned empty-handed. Or that the only two to escape are herself — the one sent to save the others of the world and had doubts about finding an escape to begin with — and a Crewman — who aided in the world’s corruption. And what was it worth? Nothing.

Well, not nothing.

As Luka said, she’s the first to ever leave Jamyria. In a sense, she’s accomplished what she
set out to do, partially. She has discovered an exit.

She shuts her eyes as a tear slips out. The shadows of two
very different faces are burned under her lids. The boy she’s befriended and grown to love over the past few days as if he were her own brother. And the boy whose love will never be able to escape her no matter how many worlds away.

Two people with whom she cannot live without. “I have to get back into Jamyria.”

It is, or so it has been said, her destiny.