Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

P adriag jolted awake and listened intently, unsure if he’d dreamt a loud rumbling sound. Moments later, he sat upright as whatever it was seemed to surge, the sound first distant but then moving closer. It was like a herd of huge animals stampeding over the land.

Apparently, he’d fallen asleep while sitting in front of the fireplace. He considered placing another log on the hearth but changed his mind when, once again, a rumble sounded.

Past the window, there was nothing in sight, the normal snowy ground giving the illusion of peace and quiet as far as he could see. Growing bolder, Padriag opened the front door and peered out. Other than the wind blowing, it was very silent. Most days sounds of small creatures, including birdlike ones, chirped incessantly. At that moment, it was as if every being had gone still, waiting for whatever was headed their way.

Going back inside, Padriag pulled on a hip length, fur-lined coat made of leather, thick boots, straps of daggers. Finally, he retrieved the sword he’d gotten from over the fireplace and inspected it. He’d spent many hours polishing and sharpening the tool until it not only gleamed brightly, but he could easily split either a hair or a man’s skull.

As the rumbling sounds continued, he waited, wondering if perhaps it had nothing to do with him, but was one of those natural things, like earthquakes.

Still, he refused to relax and ignore whatever happened.

It was about half an hour later that the unmistakable sounds of horses approaching made him peer out the window.

On horseback, warriors wearing black armor and swords strapped to their back lined up in a half circle surrounding the front of the home. There were probably as many men around the back half.

Padriag’s blood ran ice-cold. There was only one reason Meliot would send this many. The wizard wanted him captured and brought to him alive. Despite Meliot’s surprisingly reckless decisions at times, the wizard wasn’t stupid. The man had his reasons for whatever would happen next. If Padriag had to guess, it could be that the evil man knew something about the others returning, and he hoped to capture them as well. Or the wizard wished to ensure that he and Liam became trapped in the current realm forever.

Annoyed that he’d been complacent in not constantly strengthening the warding around the house, Padriag lowered the wooden plank to latch the door. Not that wood would keep the enemy out, but it would slow them down. Padriag lifted his hands, power forming in his palms as he began the warding spell.

Magic sparked and a luminescent and clear barrier began forming with wavy walls reminiscent of a water bubble.

Before the ward could fully close, the front door flew open with a burst of light, and moments later warriors poured into the room, swords in hand.

Padriag was just a couple steps from his blade, the only way to reach it without chancing a stab to his back was to use magic. Cupping his hands, he moved them outward forming a fiery shield.

Seeing what he did, the dark warriors surged toward him, and he shot bursts of power at them using both hands. Energy pulses raced from his palms sending several of them tumbling backward.

He scrambled away from them and reached for his sword, considering whether, perhaps, the magic worked better than his blade.

The dark warriors parted, and a tall, muscular one walked into the room. “Meliot sent us to fetch you. He has questions.” The warrior wore a helmet, so Padriag couldn’t see the features. It could be he was human, or someone from that realm. Hard to tell.

“Yeah. No. Tell him I’ve got other plans. Maybe next time.” Padriag sheathed his sword as energy sizzled from his palms.

Through the eyeholes of the helmet, the warrior’s gaze focused on Padriag’s hands. “Do you think your weak magic will win against us? We are fortified with much stronger magic.”

Padriag shrugged. “Have you ever considered that all you exist for is to do some old guy’s bidding? When was the last time you took a self-care day?”

The warrior took a step forward and Padriag blasted him with both hands, sending a combination of energy and fire. Despite taking a couple steps backward, Meliot’s warrior didn’t fall. The fact that the man could withstand what had sent all the others tumbling backwards was troubling.

Once again, Padriag sent energy to his palms.

“If you come willingly, we will not beat you the entire way there,” the warrior said in a bored tone. “It spoils the fun, but I will make that concession.”

“Aren’t you a sweetie,” Padriag said and once again sent energy and flames at the warrior. This time the guy didn’t even flinch.

“Damn it,” Padriag pulled his sword and held it with both hands. “I am not going willingly.”

“So be it,” the warrior unsheathed his own sword and advanced. The odds were fully against Padriag, but he would fight to the death.

The warrior went for an overhead strike and Padriag blocked it and jabbed forward with his own, barely missing the man’s midsection. When the warrior struck again, metal clashed against metal, sending vibrations down Padriag’s arms.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to shove the warrior away. Swords swinging, they moved in a circle, neither getting the best of the other. Thankfully, the other warriors did not intercede, although Padriag had no doubt they would if by some miracle, the larger dark warrior fell.

A hard strike to the back of his head made Padriag see stars. He barely was able to block a strike from his opponent. They would not fight fair, it was a losing battle. Padriag understood, but damn if he was going to just relinquish control.

In one fluid motion, he sliced the air in the direction of his opponent whilst pulling a dagger from the strap across his chest. He whirled and flung the weapon, satisfied when it sunk into the chest of one of the idiots behind him.

He turned back just in time to block another blow.

Once again Padriag was hit from behind, this time so hard his knees buckled. Before he could catch himself, another strike to the back of his head barely registered as everything went black.

* * *

“Find out where the rip in the realm’s wall is. I must know how he was able to leave and re-enter from the other side,” a deep, familiar voice penetrated the fog in Padriag’s head.

He had sunk to his knees, his arms outstretched, shackles that hung from a beam overhead around his wrists. The discomfort of his shoulders practically coming out of their sockets was nothing compared to the burning pain on his entire back and the pulsing of his fingertips now devoid of nails.

He’d lost count of the different methods of torture he’d been subjected to. Many times he’d slipped on his own pool of blood as the sting of a whip across his back had continued until he’d lost consciousness. Was it two or three times now that he’d passed out? He couldn’t be sure.

Pretending to remain unconscious, he opened his eyes just enough to see who Meliot spoke to. It was the same warrior he’d fought back at the cabin.

“If he has not spoken by now, he will not be forthcoming no matter what we do to him,” the warrior replied. Padriag couldn’t place the accent, German perhaps.

Meliot growled. “I do not want the opinion of a traitorous slug like you.” The wizard whirled to face Padriag, and he met his gaze.

“Don’t let me interrupt your family squabble. But the slug is right, I will not tell you anything. Mainly because I have no fucking idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Voice barely audible, Padriag began coughing, his throat raw from screaming.

Meliot closed the distance between them, the bottomless black eyes digging into his. No matter how many times he’d had the misfortune of being confronted by the wizard, the malevolence emanating from him made Padriag’s skin crawl. He could live another three hundred years and never forget what being in the presence of pure evil felt like.

“You are keeping secrets. Perhaps about the others, or it could be you are hiding something. What is it?” Meliot leaned forward grabbed Padriag’s hair and yanked him forward. Padriag couldn’t keep from moaning at the stretching of his shoulders and open wounds on his back.

“Tell me what you know, and I will let you go free.” Meliot’s voice echoed in his ears, swirling around his head like smoke.

Padriag tried to pull back, but it was in vain. Not only did Meliot have a good grip on his hair, but he was weak from being tortured. “Even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell you,” he rasped.

The wizard’s eyes narrowed. “Soon you will be too weak to guard your thoughts. Then you will gladly share everything to stop the pain. The beautiful pain that you should be embracing.”

Before Meliot could delve into his mind, Padriag warded himself. His magic couldn’t compete against Meliot’s, especially now that the evil wizard’s powers had strengthened. But thankfully he could still ward his mind.

Letting out a long hiss of annoyance, the wizard slapped him hard across the face with so much force Padriag was surprised his head remained attached. “You are a fool! You will die here in my dungeons.”

Meliot whirled around and motioned to the guard who’d stood by the door. The man looked familiar. With blond hair and bright blue eyes, he stood tall, at least six foot four.

“Put him in the cage. No food or water.” The wizard looked at Padriag. “I suggest salt water to clean his wounds.” With that he swept from the room leaving the two men alone.

“You should tell him what you know. He will not stop until you do,” the guard said in a flat voice.

Padriag managed to stand, his shoulders still pained him, but not as much. “Is that what you did. Gave in? Betrayed others?” He couldn’t keep the accusatory tone from his statement.

Ignoring him, the guard walked to a long table where various implements of torture were kept and grabbed a sack of what Padriag assumed was salt.

Padriag entire body quaked, anticipating the pain he was about to endure. When the warrior walked toward him, he closed his eyes and braced himself.

“This should help with the healing,” the guard said and slowly poured liquid down Padriag’s back and smoothed something across it with fast precise moves. It smarted and he gritted his teeth, but it wasn’t anywhere as intolerable as he’d expected. He let out a long breath in relief.

First one shackle and then the next was unlocked and his arms hung limply at his sides.

“Can you walk?” The guard pushed him forward.

Padriag stumbled, barely able to stay upright. “I will walk,” he said and took a wobbly step forward, then another. His parched, aching throat made it painful to swallow. He longed for a swallow of water. It would be useless to ask.

The guard took his arm and pulled him forward, out of the room and down steeps stairs. Several times, Padriag lost his footing and would have fallen if not for the guard’s strong hold.

Once reaching the bottom of the second set of stairs, they emerged into the darkness outside the castle.

By this time, Padriag would have been hard pressed to keep moving, and the guard was practically carrying him.

“Where are you taking me?” he panted the words, terrified that the cage was outside, and he’d be left naked and injured in the freezing cold.

The guard pushed him forward and he collapsed on all fours, the surroundings became blurry, he was losing consciousness. A mixture of emotions surged, and he prayed not to wake up. Death was a hundred times better than going through the torture again.

“I cannot do more for you.” The guard’s voice permeated through the edges of his mind. “Go to the cottage, you will be safe there.”

Padriag used the very last of his reserve to dematerialize.

He landed in a heap in the log cabin, crawled to lay in front of the fire as darkness enveloped him.