Something was lancing in the back of my head.
The pain was there, but fading, like in another astral plan of the universe, very far away, as I watched a different moment unfold in front of me.
The weird dreams again. I was petrified, in an uncomfortable position, trying as much as I could to pivot, to switch, to breathe, to talk, to ask that person facing my immobile body any information on the situation. She didn’t talk. Just looked. The recurrent woman catching my sleeping self whenever I was falling into Martheus’ arms.
Her face blurry, she smoothed my skin, my burning face and scalp, with a feather light touch of her fingers. I had to concentrate to sense them. Her scent caught my nose and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Profound, rich and dark. Intoxicating. Addictive.
I wanted to reach out, to stroke that perfect body of hers too, I wanted to render that tenderness she was giving me but I was utterly incapable of moving any muscle. And she gazed at me as if she knew. I could almost see her lips mouthing the words ‘it’s okay’.
Was I losing myself? My brain must have invented a whole comfort persona for me to fall into whenever things went south. Had I been so deeply traumatized that I had to have an imaginary friend to recover from difficult situations? What was going on?
I frowned, the sharp pain becoming more and more unbearable, the woman’s figure even blurrier and her silhouette vanishing with the same troubled movements a still water surface would be perturbed by a rock plunging inside. Until my eyelids fluttered and I found myself capable of moving again.
I groaned. My limbs were aching, my head was throbbing so hard my heart resonated in it, and my mouth was covered and filled with dust. I spat on the floor, stood up before falling on my knees. It took me a minute to understand what had happened, and I stroked where it hurt, having trouble opening my eyes completely. My hands wiped my face and I finally realized where I was.
A cell. Underground, where no openings allowed the light to fill the place entirely. The floor was shockingly wet and moist, and the moss was crawling up along the narrow walls of my prison.
Panic filled my whole body and I threw myself on the door, my hand gripping the metal bars, using all of my remaining strength to bend them. They didn’t move a bit. A soft, burning laugh resonated opposite of me, and in the darkness, I could vaguely recognize a person. “Who is there?” I asked, still panicking from my dream, from the hit behind my head, from the confinement of this room.
“It’s me, Weapon,” Kâl answered. She crawled nearer to the bars and the limited amount of light aligned with her battered face. She had cuts and bruises all over, and her hand was flat over her thigh, some blood leaking from another wound close to her belly. Some churning anger built inside my veins and I didn’t know if I was more devastated or furious.
We hadn’t shared a lot since we decided to work together, but I could sense how similar we were. The difficulties we had to face, the troubles that we suffered during our very first years of life. It was written all over her. And I wondered if she could see the same over my visage. “What happened?” I queried, relieving my back over one of the walls, contracting my muscles barely impossible to execute.
She sighed, exhausted and in much agony. “Your stomach isn’t strong enough,” she only answered with a judging smile over her lips.
“I’ve seen a lot.”
“You couldn’t begin to understand the difference.”
I felt the sting of her anger echoing all over my body, goosebumps of disgust filling my every pore. “I’m sorry,” I said. Didn’t know how to express my sympathy.
“I don’t want your pity.”
Silence. “How come they didn’t…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Kill me? Oh, they have. At least, they think they did.” I frowned and she turned around, switched her hand to her stomach and the cut from the thigh was barely visible anymore. Even her face had more colors, the blood filling her capillaries again. How did she fake her own death? Jalyons were vicious and sadistic brutes, she must have endured a lot more after pretending.
She was right. I had been engulfed by so much anger before, I had forgotten who I am and where I was. Prior to being hit in the head, I wasn’t controlling myself as much as I should have, letting my rage for the Jalyons overtake my better judgment. Did they feel like women deserved their hideous, brutal and cruel kinks? What could they possibly hate about them so much to inflict such atrocities?
Kâl groaned and I decided to change the subject. “How will we get out of this?”
“For now, I’m more interested in staying alive,” she changed her pressure to another part of her body again. The blood of her belly had stopped leaking. “Besides, they went searching your house. From what I heard, there are only five remaining here.”
“Why search my house?”
“They want the stone.”
“Wasn’t the stone supposed to be just an excuse?”
“That’s what they said.”
“But it’s on me. In my pocket.” I lifted my brows. For the first time since I woke up, she met my gaze, a weird expression in her eyes. A few beats passed before she answered.
“I was focused on smothering my cries while they beat me to death, Nolis.”
My teeth bit my bottom lip to prevent it from opening again.
I analyzed the place. A torch was burning at the far end of the corridor that led to the numerous cells like mine and Kâl’s. It seemed we were the only ones, since Hidram didn’t intervene in our conversation. He wasn’t there when the smoke dissipated but I was so focused on Vishan, maybe I did not see him.
Minutes passed and none of us spoke. Besides stealing a key from someone, there weren't any other options. The bars were unbreakable, we had no tools or weapons, and the door was the only opening in this incommodious room. My feet could reach the opposite wall when my legs were stretched. After turning round and round, my knees and my ankles burning, I leaned onto the left wall and let myself slide on the floor. “How long have we been here?” I asked.
“The end of the day for sure.” She still had trouble breathing and talking.
“Why not just kill us and dump us at the borders of their territory?”
“I want to believe we’ve instilled enough fear inside their veins for them to act extra cautious. But again, they think I am dead. I don’t know what they have planned for you.” She had straightened her spine and leaned her head over the wall of her cell.
“If Vishan wants the stone, do you think it does hold a particular power?” I asked, feeling the weight of the latter in my side pocket, rolling under my fingers through the fabric. “Or do you think Vishan invented a story so my father would be intrigued enough to accept the deal?”
She moaned, shifting in her cell, coming closer to her bars. “It might have been a simple rock they found somewhere. But he’s a strategist, and he cannot be trusted. So I wouldn’t be that decisive over it. Besides, they went to your place to find it.”
“I did feel something touching it,” I admitted. Again, sounds of movement emitted from her side. As if she was leaving me the opportunity to elaborate.
“What did you feel?”
“It’s hard to explain. It felt right.”
“Did it look like it was holding great power?” she pursued.
“It looked like it was waiting. Something was missing. It felt like I was a vessel, and that I could bring it home.”
“Home?” she said, surprised.
“There’s no other word to translate what I felt. It’s the closest.”
Another pause. I looked over to her corner and could see she was thinking of something. Her hands were still holding parts of her body and the bruises on her face had lost their blue tints. “You look much better.”
“I feel much better.”
“How is that possible?”
She took a second. Pounding the pros and cons. “I have powers.”
I laughed. “So, you have gadgets and magic? The Shadow is much stronger than the Weapon.”
Her smile brightened the whole room. “I didn’t know we were having a competition. But there’s no doubt on who's winning.”
I became a mercenary out of obligation. I had no future for myself besides obeying my father’s orders and seeing that all the other aspects of my life had been taken care of. She had decided on this way of living, had decided the Jalyons were her enemies and had to be defeated whatever the costs over her own sanity. Of course she was winning. I had never been as humbled as I was now, just looking at her. “Why the Jalyons?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
She knew what I meant. What that question entailed. She sighed deeply before switching her attention to the palms of her hands. “It’s an old and long story.”
“Does it look like we have anything else to do here?” I insisted. She giggled.
“It’s a vengeance for my family. My father and mother. And the ones that are not here to defend themselves anymore.”
“What happened to them?” I continued, my gaze solely on her.
She shook her head. “You know the Jalyons. You know their cruelty.”
“I do.”
“Then you know enough.”
Silence. I chose not to speak anymore as I figured I was disturbing her. As I wasn’t very sharing myself, I could understand her reasons not to talk about her privacy that way. But yet, after a few minutes of silent cogitation, she carried on. “My mother used to tale me an ancient legend. About a woman leading cluster. About her strength and fierceness and her unstoppable thirst for justice. She used to draw her to me and said her only weapon was a dagger, with golden carvings on the handle and a gem on the tip. She was the ultimate fighter. I think she related that story so I would always be able to defend myself. So I would seek this strength and fierceness and unstoppable thirst for justice.”
“Did you know her well? Your mother?”
She inhaled. “Not for long. We stayed hidden for years, relied on my father to have food and clothes. But…”
This time, I stayed quiet, hoping she would say more. Only, she didn’t. And I couldn’t blame her, we only knew each other for a few days. Her attitude and personality were not exactly resonating with eloquence and intimacy. Getting her embarrassed was the very last thing I wanted. Even though I reached out to her more than I ever did with anyone else in my life for unknown reasons, I continued reflecting in my head.
I remembered the fight, Vishan’s victory grin but all the corpses on the ground transformed it into a bitter promise of revenge. My eyes closed and visions of his face and my surroundings at the time painted in front of my lids. I didn’t see it back then but he had been injured. Kâl must have managed to hit him a few rounds because I now recalled a slight but reddened scar across his features, going from his jaw to his chin, in addition to the one crossing his eye.
He didn’t mind being hit, having proof over his body of all his glorious fights being one of his arrogant characteristics. But he couldn’t be disfigured either, he had to stay recognizable and probably handsome from his point of view to let that kind of injury visible. I wondered if the Jalyon’s tattoo had anything to do with embellishing their wounds during combat, as they liked to display their warrior’s cuts.
We listened to our breaths for a few minutes more, the drops of water falling on the ground the only distraction from the situation’s stillness. Even with my eyes closed, my thoughts were so vivid and present, they were right here before me. I quickly felt oppressed. My hands lifted to my face and wrapped the latter for seconds, trying to find back the control over my feelings and body. Some movements shifted on my left and when I turned to call, I realized she was already looking at me. Her visage was almost completely free of the bruises. I frowned.
“How can your wounds disappear—” I started before being interrupted by footsteps resonating across the corridor. “Shit,” I murmured.
“Let me take care of this,” she responded. My mouth opened in protest but the Jalyon was already here. She slid at the far end of her cell and pretended to be on her stomach, eyes watching through everything and anything and the sight of her feigning death made my stomach turn upside down.
The Jalyon dropped one look over her and smiled, before glaring at me. “How cute seeing you both behind bars.” He snarled, his pointy teeth resembling a terrifying animal, his eyes red and injected with blood.
“What do you want?” I asked, not really sure how Kâl wanted to play the next few seconds. I stood up slowly, for him not to feel threatened just yet. He bent his head to one side and advanced toward me.
“I want to see you dead just like your little friend here. But I’m not the one to decide, unfortunately.” He stroked one bar with his index finger, watching the movement mindlessly. “We had so much fun with her.”
I started clenching my fists in my back, pretending not to care. Only, the Jalyon saw fit to continue his details since I didn’t ask him to stop. “She took the blows so well. It was a shame she held the screams. I wanted to hear her so bad when we started to skin her alive.”
My brows frowned but not from anger, from incomprehension. She had no injuries of the sort, at least none that I could see from where I was in my cell. “I never imagined the Weapon siding with the Shadow, though,” he took another step closer. “We were convinced you were both crushing each other's objectives, having the same goal. We thought you would like having her dead by your side, but seeing your face right now, maybe you two had a thing going on.” He strode forward once more. “Did you fuck her, Hidramma? Did you hear the screams?”
I launched forward, unable to endure another word coming out of that distasteful mouth. My hands could pass through the bars but my forearms were too big. He laughed loudly and lifted his palms in the air, folding back over the other cell. He leaned on Kâl’s bars and right before I blinked, I saw her standing.
In seconds, she had grabbed the Jalyon’s hands, kept them in her side of her cloister and held them with the fingers of her own hand. He had his arms bent backwards and would snap both of his shoulders if tempted to use his supernatural strength to gain control back. His eyes went wide as Kâl’s other hand snaked to his throat. “Surprised to see me?”
She covered his mouth right when he tried to scream for help. And withdrew her fingers when he snapped his teeth to bite them. Her laugh was devastating. “So predictable.”
“You bitch! How can you be alive?” he yelled. I stayed close but couldn’t do anything more than watch.
“You should have ripped my head off.” She downed her hand and patted his sides and legs to search for a key. When she found it, she threw the chain at me. The Jalyon wriggled under her touch but didn’t manage to hold free. “Should I end you fast or take my time like you all did with me?”
As I aimed for my lock, I saw a flash of fear inside the man’s eyes, before pure anger caught up with him. “The others will come right at you after this. You won’t survive. They’ll make sure of it.” He spat as she reached for one of his blades secured over his hips.
“They can always try.” And as I freed myself from the bars, she stabbed him right in the heart, the steel so long it traversed his whole body. The life slowly disappeared from his eyes as he slid down and impaled himself a little more on his fall. Kâl’s breath was ragged and she couldn’t keep her gaze away as I opened her own door. She took one long inhale and closed her eyes, gathering all of her emotions back into place before she locked her stare with mine. I hoped she would see the understanding, the softness. Key in hand, I waited for her to say something.
But I perceived she couldn’t. As the tears appeared behind her eyes, her chin wobbling, her expression torn, I caught the situation falling back and weighing on her shoulders with the force of a thousand.
She shook her head the moment she saw me advancing but however didn’t step back. “No pity. Promise.” Was all I said. And she exhaled. I figured touching her was the last thing she wanted and offered my presence. Offered an anchor. Whatever she needed. The tears plunged toward the ground and seeing her so vulnerable only reflected the lack of my own. The terrible Jalyon’s threat was none other than a human being with fears, doubts and sensitivity. “What is it?” the question left my mouth before I could restrain it. Her reaction felt inappropriate, due to the situation we were facing. Valid, but incoherent.
My thumb awkwardly dried the trails of water on her cheeks and she accepted the contact eagerly, as if ravenous of amicable attention after all these years spent alone. I felt the same. Being able to rely on somebody, someone of the opposite sex nonetheless, must appear incredibly improbable for her. When she opened her eyes and glared at me again, any ounce of hesitation had vanished. She was resolute. Whatever happened in her head, she didn’t want to explain. “I’m alright.”
We walked around the other cells and climbed up stairs that were obviously driving outside of this dungeon. “Nighttime,” I said, watching through the cracks of the door.
“Put your hood on,” she ordered and I executed. She pushed the openings wider and explained what she saw. “Two Jalyons close. Looking ahead. Probably others on the right, I can see light through a window. We need to make this quick, before the raid comes back.”
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I immediately answered, my hand already grabbing a knife I’d taken from the guard’s corpse. She took another minute scanning the area.
“I can hear voices behind. It might be more than five. Let’s start with the first two ahead. We’ll drag them behind the wall and enter the house. We need our equipment back.”
She faxed her body through the slight interstice, used the area of darkness, avoided the ones brightening under the moonlight and reached for one of the Jalyons. As a silent agreement, she nodded and I opened the door wider, threw the knife in the air, that planted itself perfectly between his two eyes. The one next to him gasped, but was quickly muffled, Kâl imprisoning his neck under her arm, forbidding him of the oxygen he needed. In a quick snap of his head, she killed him.
I walked low and arrived at Kâl’s level when we grabbed one each and dragged them behind a wall, safe for all to see, at least for now. We contoured the whole perimeter, crouching, sometimes crawling to keep ourselves invisible. Until we reached their main entrance and climbed the stairs from the side, evading the light of the great fires on each part of the double door. Of course, they were all closed.
After one tour, we concluded the only way inside was through a glass window at the back. Kâl took care of breaking it without emitted a sound, her hand wrapped with a torn fabric of her bustier, and we found ourselves in an office.
A broad desk, the wood carved beautifully on each side, was facing the broken window, the exterior slightly concealed with two thick red velvet curtains hanging high up the ceiling. The walls were covered with dressers, shelves, anything was used as storage and everything was filled with papers, artifacts, boxes and trunks. A comfortable chair dressed the corner next to the door and the walls were painted in red. Kâl let out a stunned breath.
My vision focused on drawings on his desk with inscriptions on the side. The sketch looked unfinished, missing colors and descriptions. The more I looked around, the more I understood we had trespassed Vishan’s very own office.
He had a different taste compared to Jalyons in general. The aspects of his office alone transpired on the man he was, and the aspirations he sought. He was fancier, classier, more refined than his species. Elegance. Maybe that was the reason he was chief. Maybe his cultivated attitude inspired leadership to the others of his clan.
Our attention didn’t have time to truly assess our surroundings. Jalyons appeared through the window, talking while heading towards a pit and an almost ruined shed further away just before the woods. They were leaving what looked like a tavern. Some of them with bloodied hands. “Kril and his gang always get to the fun part,” one of them started. We quietly reached for the gears that had been taken from us as they locked us up in their cells.
“That’s right. We can punch as hard as they can. It’s not fair,” another one responded.
“Do you know if they found him?” a third one asked. They stopped in their tracks.
The larger one dropped his hand over the latter’s shoulder. “If he isn’t there, they’ll find him alright. This Collector isn’t the smartest. And we have his son right here in the dungeons. They are over.”
Kâl crossed my gaze. “They went for Hidram.”
“We need to leave.” I murmured, while the Jalyons walked away. “They’ll know soon enough we escaped.”
“You know what waits for us there.”
I nodded.
“Last mission,” I declared.
And we ran.