Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (27 page)

Thom tried to make it out of Dramin’s room before Wyn intercepted him, her arms wrapping around his waist as she pulled him back. I felt the heat of her magic surge in the air, andThom yelled in pain as Wyn’s magic dropped him to the ground.

I cringed as Thom continued to fight her, Ilyan meeting them in the middle of the room in a tangle of arms and hair, grunts and yells.

“Let me go, Wynifred!” Thom growled as he swung toward Ilyan, a bright blue flame sparking off his skin.

“Put him out, Wynifred!” Ilyan yelled as he blocked the attack, only to have Thom fire another, even though he knew he could never fight Ilyan and hope to win.

Thunder rocked through the room as their screams increased, the room erupting in ear-splitting sound that slithered through me. The noise ignited my fears as it did Ryland’s, his fingers clawing in his hair as he rocked and moaned on the floor, grey sparks flaring in the air with his mania.

My own fragile sanity tried to take me down the same path that Ryland had spiraled down. The screams grew along with the streaks of Thom and Ilyan’s magic as they continued to fill the room. I howled as a shelf to my right exploded in splinters of wood, my feet pulling me toward Dramin on instinct. The wizened man struggled to sit up and grasp my hand, giving me the contact I required.

The room was moments away from implosion when Sain reached Ryland and Ilyan grabbed Thom’s arms, restraining Thom against him. Thom balled his fists against his thighs as he gave into Ilyan’s hold, knowing he couldn’t break free from him.

“Thomas,” Wyn pleaded, her hand soft against his face as she tried to get his attention.

Thom’s head snapped to her at the touch, the oppressiveness of his anger beginning to lift. I could feel the iron bands around my chest loosen as the waves of his magic left.

“You cannot do this, not now.” Wyn’s voice was calm, and deeper than what I was used to as she pleaded with him, but the panic was still clear in his eyes. I cringed at the look, clinging to Dramin’s hand as I tried to push away the trembling fear.

“Wynifred, please.” Thom’s desperation filtered through the silence in a low rumble that hindered Ryland’s recovery, leaving him shuddering against the wall.

“Not now. I want them to pay, too, but not now.” Wyn kept her hand flushed against Thom’s cheek as he weakly fought against Ilyan’s hold while she looked into his eyes.

She looked at him as if she knew him, spoke to him as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. Spoke about him as if she understood him.

It didn’t make any sense.

I had heard Thom comfort her when she was dying. I had seen him hold her as he calmed her, soothed her pain. Right then, she was doing the same to him. I was obviously missing something; it was distressing not knowing what. I looked toward Dramin in question, but he only shook his head, obviously unwilling to enlighten me.

Ilyan dropped his hold as Thom turned to him, his dreads swinging with the quick movement. “Ilyan, brother, he is so close. Please.”

A streak of lightning lit the room as the earth shook beneath us, illuminating Thom and Ilyan as they stood still in the light of the storm. Ilyan’s lips were a hard line as he pressed his hand against Thom’s shoulder. Ryland’s arm wrapped around Thom’s as he, too, came up behind him.

The three brothers stood side by side in the dim light of the room, the silent comfort they offered each other speaking for them. Their father was coming. Edmund. A father that had harmed each of them, a father who had attempted to destroy each of them, one by one. Even though they all desired his end, they wouldn’t let Thom do this on his own. They understood him.

“I know, Thom, but now is not the time, and it is not your place.”

“Then when, Ilyan?” Thom asked in little more than a whisper as he glared at Ilyan from behind the thick dreads of his hair.

“Soon,” Ilyan said as he stepped away from Thom, a golden glow emanating from his hand as he moved it over the room. The furniture shook as the light he held cast over them, the power he controlled causing the chairs, dressers and tables to slide across the floor and slam against the walls. Dramin’s hand was ripped from mine as his bed skated away from me, pressing itself against a table and chairs that Ilyan had already cast aside. The furniture shook against the walls as a massive table sped through the door, the large slab of wood hovering unsupported in the middle of the now cleared space.

I took a hesitant step forward, my heart banging in my chest as Ilyan rushed toward the large map that still lay on the surface. His jaw was a line of steel as he placed a large star next to the ‘O’ that was already surrounded by half a dozen guards.

I could tell at once that this was different. This wasn’t the possible ‘what-if’ planning everyone had been arguing over before. This was the final stage; this was real.

This was the end.

“When will my father arrive, Sain?” Ilyan asked, his eyes unwavering from the map in front of him.

“The sun will be in the sky.” Sain’s voice had lowered to the tone of a sight, but his eyes had remained green, his vision focused on the large map that covered the table in front of us, making me wonder if what he had said was sight or knowledge.

“It will begin tomorrow,” Ilyan announced, the dread seeping out of his words until they felt like lead and poison in the very pit of my heart.

Angry voices erupted at Ilyan’s proclamation, their questions coming in Czech and English so fast that I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand what was happening even if I had been able to focus on it.

I couldn’t focus on it, however, because the earth had shattered. The air that I was sure I had been breathing a minute ago had vanished, leaving my lungs feeling strangely pained and heavy, like lead weights had somehow been secured around my neck to drag me down.

I had known it would be soon, but to know with absolute certainty that it was hours away—that I had hours to live—was terrifying.

The dread that had settled in my stomach grew as images of that first sight crashed through my mind, the visions of me strong and powerful, bravely fighting. I saw my face as I fought, Ilyan by my side as he kissed me before he held my body in agony.

Before I died.

I had been trained to fight; Ilyan had showed me how to find who I really was. Part of me still believed I was that person, still had faith that I could do what was needed of me. However, another part of me tensed in fear and saw blood drip down the walls.

Part of me still thought I was weak and imprisoned, the way that Edmund had made me, breaking me down so that I could no longer rise to what I was supposed to be.

Who I wanted to be, though I just wasn’t sure I
could
be.

I wasn’t sure I could willingly walk into my death.

The fear that had been trying to snake through me won out and my hand shot forward, my shaking fingers wrapping around Ilyan’s arm in desperation to find something to steady me.

My fingers pressed into the warmth of his skin, his magic flooding me at the contact, unprompted by him. I could feel his warmth, my nerves calming just with the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in this.

I forced the weakling Edmund had created out of me, leaving me with who I really was.

“Umlčet!” Ilyan roared, and I flinched, the heavy magical restraint in his voice catching me off guard. It washed through the air and over my nerves, freezing me in place as the strength of the magic numbed the anxiety.

My gaze darted over the table, to the other stone figures in front of me before the magic released us, freeing us from our prisons, and pushing my emotions back into me with a sting.

“Sorry, My Lord,” everyone’s mumbled apology came at once.

Ilyan nodded once in acceptance before his focus dropped to the map, ready to lay out the battle plan that was now only hours away.

“The four of you will travel along this path here.” Ilyan dragged his finger near the same path he had outlined earlier, deviating enough to avoid the tent full of poisoned Vilỳs this time.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I watched the red glitter trail from his finger until it dragged off the map in a line of sparkling light that shot through the darkened room before it fell to the ground and disappeared.

“You will take this path toward the cave at Vitoria. Once you clear this line, take to the air.” Ilyan’s fingers intersected with the red line he had just made, putting a blue streak through it. Thunder rumbled as his finger dragged over the paper, the flashes of lightning that filtered in through the windows casting odd shadows of the map we all stood around.

“Wynifred, you will need to burn the trail here and here,” Ilyan continued, his finger swiping over the map as line after line appeared on the paper.

“How do you wish me to burn it, My Lord?” she asked, her face filled with the same excited frenzy she had had in the LaRue mansion last June, her eyes alight with the anticipation of battle. It was the same look I had seen in Ilyan’s eyes, except hers was more of madness than control and power. The look rippled through my spine, and I fought the need to step away from her.

“Slow. Burn the undergrowth and let it linger, you need to keep the Vilỳs off your trail if they escape that tent.”

I cringed at the memory of the rabid look in the Vilỳs eyes, their brutality as they descended upon that beautiful city in my sight. My stomach tightened as the vision flashed before me, my confusion at what it meant growing.

I didn’t want to think of that city under siege as we stood here. I did not want to think of the army Edmund was creating, and us, helpless to stop it.

“So, begin with the earth, burn the trees and then take to the air.” Wyn’s eyes glossed over as Ilyan’s voice deepened, his eyes boring into her as he leaned across the table, his magic binding Wyn to his command.

“Yes, My Lord,” Wyn said, her voice monotone and dead as Ilyan’s magic took hold.

I was in awe of the control he demanded, the resounding respect they all held for him. No one moved as Ilyan told them how to lay out their magic, how to fight, how to transport Dramin and Ryland without problem. His confidence radiated over everyone, and even with what we were facing, none of the others looked like they might go hide in the corner and empty the contents of their stomachs.

Only me.

“Joclyn and I will let ourselves be seen here and here, drawing the armies away from this line before we begin the main battle at this camp by destroying the Vilỳs tent and drawing Ovailia’s attention.” I jumped when Ilyan said my name, my knees threatening to buckle as he detailed my role in the fight.

I watched his hands move over the map, a green trail leaving the tip of his finger in swirls and circles. It was only a shadow of a movement and sound, a faded memory of color. I knew I was looking at it, however, my brain was unable to focus, the rapid pulse of my heart making it impossible to control my breathing.

I wasn’t sure if everything was slowing down or speeding up.

“We will begin an hour before dawn,” Ilyan announced, the loud echo of his words bringing me back from my panic as his hand pressed against my back, the faint whispers of his worry moving through my mind. My skin warmed underneath his touch, the fabric of my shirt keeping his magic from trailing into me. I gasped at the pressure, knowing that even though his focus was on the map and the plan in front of him, he had heard my panic, and he was worried.

I swallowed hard as his touch left, his voice an echo in my ears as I pushed my fear away, my nerves still wiggling as the map came into focus.

“Spend the next twelve hours to prepare and rest. We will begin before dawn.” Ilyan hit his hand against the map, his palm making a loud smack that echoed through the stone room. His figers were stretched wide as he lifted his hand above the paper; the glittering trails of magic he had made mirroring the movement until hand and lines hovered inches above the map.

His hand froze as the lines glimmered in the dim light, his magic expanding until he flexed his fingers, the pulse of movement sending the glimmering specks of color soaring through the air into each of our minds as Ilyan’s magic infiltrated us.

Even though I had barely heard the strategy through my stress, one look at the image that had been placed in my mind’s eye and I knew exactly what to do. I saw it in detail as everyone’s part was laid before me, I understood it, and I knew that it was going to work.

“The wells of Imdalind will follow you, and bring you peace in life or in death,” Ilyan said, his voice strangely sad as the map rolled up in front of us without anyone so much as touching it.

“And to you as well, My Lord, may the wells of Imdalind follow you,” everyone said in a whisper, their voices blending together in deep respect.

I looked away from the bare table top to Ilyan just as his hand moved up my back to skim over my bare neck.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice soft as he whispered to me, the powerful look in his eyes softening.

“You have been asking that a lot lately,” I said, the humor I had hoped to convey swallowed up by nerves.

Ilyan’s lip twitched at my attempt to break the strain in the room, his concern burning through me while I tried to find words, tried to come up with something—anything—to tell him, for once wishing he could sense my thoughts as I could his.

Because nothing was coming.

We stared at each other, somehow knowing that was enough. That just standing near each other was enough. And even though nothing felt okay, somehow everything was.

“My Lord?” Sain said from somewhere beside me.

I heard Ilyan’s thoughts shift at the call, his features stiffening as the king in him came to life so quickly that I knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

“I will be right back,” he said, his promise a quick whisper into my soul before he left me.

I stood still, staring into nothing before a slim arm snaked through mine, Wyn’s familiar smile meeting me as I jumped.

“Come on, Jos,” Wyn said, a smile on her face even though the situation really could call for anything other than that. “Let’s go have a final drink before we all plunge into certain death tomorrow.”