Foretold (Daughters of Saraqael Book Three) (13 page)

Then he found himself being ushered bodily toward the door leading out of the common room.

“I’m sure Skye will thank you later,” Caleb ground out as he hauled the Wymzesti away from Skye’s room. “For now, she deserves her privacy.”

“Of course,” Xavier stammered. “Thank you. If you could please just tell Skye that I—”

“I’m not your messenger,” Caleb interrupted in a near growl when Xavier again stood outside the door. “If she wants to, she’ll see you when she wakes up.”

And then he closed the door firmly in Xavier’s face.

He couldn’t explain the anger that coursed through him. He turned and flashed a fierce glare at the vase of flowers on the table, knowing Skye would absolutely love the things. He, too, had witnessed her pleasure over them earlier, thanks to his shared thoughts with Gabriel. Then he turned his attention to Gabriel and James, who were seemingly very interested in the map on the table.

If he hadn’t known any better, though, he would have thought he had heard them laughing as he shoved Xavier out the door.

The Corgloresti’s name was Quincy. He had been on the Estilorian plane for two hundred thirty-five years, seven months and eight days. And he was fairly certain this day would be his last.

He had recently finished a successful transition from the human plane, bringing along a new soul through the Embrace. It was only his sixth pairing, but he had been told by
archigos
Ini-herit himself that he had great promise and would most certainly engage in many pairings in future. His commanders felt that his abilities were strengthened because he could exhibit emotion. True, he didn’t really understand the full range of human emotion, and this had led to some rather embarrassing mistakes on the human plane. But for some reason, this merely seemed to endear him to humans, making his job infinitely easier.

The new Estilorian he had Embraced had assumed the form of a female Wymzesti. Quincy had been quite thrilled, as the Wymzesti numbers had been dwindling greatly over the past few centuries. The name she gave herself upon assuming her form was Justine.

During his time on the human plane, he had been paired with a male Gloresti named Ezekiel. He and Ezekiel had known each other for more than a century, and trusted each other implicitly—very important for a successful pairing. The Orculesti who had worked with Quincy and Ezekiel during Quincy’s eighteen months of transition was an experienced female named Mei-li. They had all been guarded by a small contingent of Waresti; between eight and ten rotating warriors had maintained a perimeter around the secret location housing Quincy’s vulnerable Estilorian form while he was on the human plane.

The last member of their group had been a less experienced female Scultresti named Fatimah. She had been summoned when the Embrace was imminent. She brought with her the form that would ultimately become the new Estilorian if the Embrace was successful. And when the Embrace did, indeed, succeed, Justine had become aware in her created form.

Unfortunately, Fatimah had inadvertently drawn the attention of some Mercesti who happened to be in the area upon her arrival. Those Mercesti had then called for reinforcements and fought their way through the Waresti soldiers guarding them.

Quincy and Ezekiel had joined in the fight, making the odds more even. Their combined efforts helped Mei-li and Fatimah escape with Justine. Not long thereafter, however, the last of the Waresti had fallen, and Quincy and Ezekiel were taken prisoner.

It had been nearly two days now since Quincy had last seen Ezekiel. But he had been listening helplessly to the Gloresti’s tortured screams for most all that time. The terrible sounds filled him with fury and grief.

He was also unashamed to acknowledge his own terror over what was to come. They had chained him alone in a dark room that reeked of fear and violence. Things scurried along the floor and water dripped slowly and steadily from an unseen height, but he was offered none to slake his thirst. Some kind of targeted dampening was in effect to keep him from pairing with his Lekwuesti. They had stripped him of his weapons and his clothes and hacked his hair off, but he knew very well that these were the least of the indignities he would suffer.

By the end of the second day of their captivity, Ezekiel’s screams were suddenly and brutally silenced.

Quincy didn’t know whether to be relieved his friend was no longer suffering, or horrified and aggrieved over his death. Both reactions hit him at once. His chains shook as he battled the emotions that Estilorians—especially older Estilorians—were said not to have.

Within a few minutes, the door to his cell suddenly flew open.

Red light floated into the room, bathing everything in malevolent shadows. Although his chains were connected to the floor, he got to his feet to face his captors. He was unable to stand fully upright, as the chains were intentionally short.

The Mercesti who entered first was about the most unassuming Estilorian he had ever seen. This was a surprise. Although Quincy had actually only ever encountered a few Mercesti soldiers in all of his years, they had all been large, aggressive and filled with rage. This one stood only about as high as Quincy’s shoulders and didn’t appear to carry much muscle. Because he had spent time with humans, he compared this Mercesti with a very young teenager in appearance. His blond hair even stuck up in spiky tufts from his scalp, rather like many modern human teenagers wore it.

But one had only to look into the Mercesti’s eyes to know him for what he was.

Behind him stood two females and three males. Quincy looked at each of them in turn as he awaited his fate. The largest of the males was bald and scarred. His arms looked twice as large as a normal male’s. The second male, the one standing closest to the blond male, had dark hair and an air of authority about him. Quincy sensed immediately that he was the true leader of the group. The third male, this one with dark skin and brown hair worn in a cloud of tight curls around his head, was about the same height and build as the second one. His red eyes, however, looked more than a little wild. One of the females was as much a blonde pixy in appearance as the first male, but half of her face was viciously scarred as though she had been burned.

The other female was familiar to him.

“Kanika?” he asked in surprise.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him more closely even as the blond male flicked his right hand and hot agony seared across the left side of Quincy’s body. He cried out in shock and pain as he realized the small male had wielded some kind of cursed whip. The vicious burn created by the weapon lingered well past its retreat.

“Do not speak to us unless you are prompted to, foul maggot,” his attacker said. His voice even sounded young and ordinary. It made his actions and behavior all the more horrible. Turning to Kanika, he asked, “Do you know this pathetic creature?”

She nodded. Quincy thought he saw some kind of emotion flash in her red eyes, but she kept her expression contained. “His name is Quincy,” she said.

She didn’t add that she had been the Orculesti who had guided him through his first ever transition to the human plane, and that they had known each other for at least two centuries. He wondered if the omission was significant or if she simply didn’t consider that important enough to mention. Perhaps she had even forgotten it. He also wondered what she had done to become a Mercesti, as he had always thought of her as a rather content and nonviolent female.

“Quincy the Corgloresti.” The blond male walked a slow circle around his prisoner, giving him a careful study. “I see only six silver marks on his shoulders. He has not transitioned much. Still fairly young.” When he had made the full circle, he stopped a foot in front of Quincy and stared right into his eyes. After several long minutes, he said in his nonchalant voice, “This one will be more entertaining than the last. He has righteousness in him.”

Then the dark-haired male, the one who held an air of authority, stepped forward. He looked at Quincy and said, “I assume you were the Corgloresti paired with the Gloresti we just disposed of?”

Clenching his jaw over the dismissive way he referred to Ezekiel, Quincy gave a brief nod.

“So you have been away from this plane for the past eighteen months?” the dark-haired male continued.

Again, he nodded.

“Then he has not met Saraqael’s daughters,” the blond male said.

That statement made all of the blood drain from Quincy’s face.
Saraqael’s daughters?
Had they transitioned to this plane during his absence? And what was the Mercesti’s interest in them? He swept his gaze toward Kanika, but she was staring at the door. He sensed she was deliberately avoiding looking at him.

“Of all the Corgloresti we managed to capture, it had to be one who is useless to us,” the bald-headed male grumbled from the rear of the cell.

Quincy tried to swallow, but the dryness of his throat made it impossible. Since the blond male was still staring at him, he stared right back. If he was going to die anyway, he would at least try to maintain his dignity as long as possible.

“What do you know of Saraqael’s daughters?” the dark-haired leader asked. He sounded and looked curious more than threatening.

“Very little,” he answered.

“Humor me.”

He shrugged with a loud clanking of chains. “There are three of them. They transitioned to the human plane as newborns and, before I transitioned this last time, were there still. They are half-human. But you already know all of that.”

More pain lanced through him as the whip took part of his flesh. His hoarse cry echoed in the small chamber. He saw Kanika flinch and pale.

“We will decide what is important and what is not,” the blond male said in his unemotional voice. “Just tell us what you know about the plans for the half-human females once they transitioned back to this plane.”

Quincy caught his breath and looked up at the dark-haired male, deliberately ignoring his attacker. “Only the elders were ever involved in making those plans.”

“So Saraqael’s daughters will simply be left to make their way on this plane all on their own?” the dark-haired male asked mildly.

That made Quincy pause. “Well, no,” he said slowly. “I imagine the elders will introduce them to all of the classes and educate them about life on this plane.”

The blond-haired male said, “And they would do this at your base, which is…?”

“Hidden,” Quincy responded.

He said it plainly and without apology, knowing it would result in further pain. And when the whip flayed his flesh this time, he was happy to bear it. No amount of torture would be able to pull the answer from him, because he truly didn’t know it. The enchantments around the Estilorian stronghold deliberately erased the location of their base from any Estilorian’s mind once he left it.

“Kanika,” the dark-haired Mercesti said, “see what you can pull from his mind. Particularly about Saraqael’s daughters.”

Quincy stiffened. He watched her warily as she approached. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, even with the change in her eye color from dark green to red. The markings around her eyes were now also red. She moved with the same sensuality he remembered as she reached up to place both of her palms on either side of his head.

Oh, Kanika
, he thought the moment he sensed her in his thoughts.
What have you done to deserve this? You are a good being. You must have made one wrong choice. Perhaps it can be undone.

Stop it!
she shouted back at him with her mind. And when she did, she lowered the guard to her own thoughts enough to let him know just what she had done. She told him that the Gloresti elder Gabriel was now also back on the Estilorian plane, that he was avowed to one of Saraqael’s daughters.

And that she had tried to kill that daughter out of jealousy.

He stared at her, appalled. Angered by her slip, she pushed harder to mine his thoughts, shoving through his defenses. She had always been mentally skilled, and he was absolutely unable to resist her efforts. Things he hadn’t even known were in his mind were now in hers. But most importantly, thoughts that he knew had been erased from her mind after her conversion to Mercesti were now again hers. And because her face was directly in front of his, he saw the remembrance enter her eyes.

When she stepped back, stepped away, she allowed her expression to fall away. And he knew instinctively what she had pulled from him.

No, Kanika!
he thought.

It was a wasted thought. She turned to the dark-haired Mercesti and revealed, “There is a prophecy called the Great Foretelling. And this is what it says…”

Grolkinei stepped out of the cell a short while later, followed by Layla, Angius, Baldemar and Kanika, leaving Eloy with the Corgloresti. If there was any further information to be obtained from their prisoner, Eloy would elicit it. Although not quite as subtle in his tortures as Cesaro had been, Eloy was proving quite effective.

“How have I not heard all of this prophecy before now?” Grolkinei asked as they walked back through the halls of the basement where they kept their prisoners. They moved toward the stairs leading to the upstairs living quarters. “The only portions of this so-called Great Foretelling of Knorbis’ that we had gleaned from past prisoners related to the daughters’ births. Nothing about this supposed battle.”

It was particularly disconcerting in light of the fact that it was for just such a battle that he had been preparing his soldiers for some time now. He decided he would most definitely need to get more information about this from their traitor informant.

“You did not have Kanika’s abilities to pull deeply-buried thoughts before,” Angius pointed out.

She nodded in agreement. “I realized after retrieving it from his mind that I used to know this prophecy myself. The conversion erased the memory from my thoughts, as must happen to all Mercesti.” She paused as they began climbing the stairs. Then she continued, “I did also get the sense that this part of the prophecy is not shared with all Estilorians. Probably to stave off panic or concern among the masses.”

“So why does this Corgloresti know it?” Baldemar asked in his gruff voice. He so rarely spoke that the other commanders glanced at him in surprise.

“An excellent question,” Grolkinei said with approval in his voice. He glanced down at Kanika as they reached the top of the stairs and he opened the door. “Did you get that information from him?”

“I did not have to,” she answered, following him into the parlor just outside the basement door. “I remembered right away who Quincy is. We actually knew each other quite well. Though, his thoughts did help clarify my memories.”

Grolkinei raised an eyebrow, obviously knowing she was about to tell them something he wanted to hear. He was right. She looked around the room as she gave her explanation.

“Quincy knows the prophecy because he was one of the Estilorians identified by the elders to support Saraqael’s daughters in this great battle.”

“And why was he selected to be a part of this select group?” Grolkinei asked, smiling indulgently and reaching out to stroke her hair.