To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (22 page)

“The other thing about those fascinating Imarans is their Arcstone,” Nihil continued, gesturing at the marbled stone on the table. “Arcstone has some amazing properties. I’ve been able to do miraculous things with my subjects using this stone.”

He sat back in his seat and gestured to the man who stood behind the prisoner. He took the man’s bound hands and pulled them toward the Arcstone, putting his palms on the stone, and used a length of rope to tie them fast. The prisoner made a futile attempt at resistance, tugging against his bonds and muttering something unintelligible as his head lolled to the side.

“I will warn you ahead of time, this experience will be unsettling at first. It is best to relax and let the energies swell within you. Pushing back is only painful and ultimately destructive. I have been looking forward to working with you for quite some time. I would hate to lose you on the first pass.” He gestured toward the stone. “Place your hands on the stone.”

Daro stared at the Arcstone. It appeared solid, yet the colors seemed to move the longer he watched it. The prisoner moaned softly, his arms still feebly straining. Daro’s heart pounded and his breath came in shallow gasps. Of all the things he had endured, somehow this terrified him the most. The feel of Sindre’s hands on his shoulders reminded him who was in control. He desperately wanted to resist, but as his eyes darted around the room, he could see no way out.

Nihil spoke. “Sindre.”

A jolt of electricity shot down Daro’s back. It was a familiar sensation; she had taught him what would be next. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as he waited for the next hit. Another jolt hit him, stronger than the first.

She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Put your hands on the stone.”

Nihil made a note in his notebook and looked back up at Daro, his eyes dispassionate. The other prisoner began to sob, his low moans shaking his scrawny shoulders.

Panic rose, a knot of fear building in Daro’s gut. His breath came fast, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to get up and run. Sindre hit him with pain again, and he leaned forward as he tucked his arms into his body and groaned. His body felt as if it were on fire, the skin burning to a cinder and flaking off. She let the pain dissipate and spoke into his ear again. “We both know how this ends. I can only protect your wife for so long. We must show Nihil that we are working well together, or her life will be in danger.”

Pain surged through him again. He leaned his head back and roared in pain. “Stop!” he cried. The pain ended abruptly, and he sat, panting, and held his hands up in front of him. “Stop,” he whispered between breaths. “I will.”

Sindre lifted her hands from his shoulders. Clenching his teeth, he reached his hands toward the Arcstone. The prisoner sobbed and Daro flinched. Nihil leaned in, his brow pinched, his eyes hungry, his own hands hovering above the stone.

Daro surged forward, as one might jump into a pool of cold water, anxious for the initial shock to be over. He pressed his hands onto the sides of the Arcstone. Light exploded in front of his eyes, a multicolored flash of brilliance that nearly blinded him. He felt as if he were rushing down a tunnel, the walls a streaming mass of radiance, pushing him forward. Images began to fly past his vision, scenes of people moving too quickly for him to make out. He felt dangerously hot, as if he were sitting too close to a fire. Visions darted by, overwhelming his senses. He struggled to breathe, heat and light and air rushing at him in a torrent.

The images slowed and he began to see them clearly as they drifted past. He could see a woman working in a shop, placing things on a shelf. He felt a sudden affection for this woman, the emotion passing as the illusion floated away. More visions appeared and sped past him, borne along the brilliant tunnel as the glare assaulted him. Each vision brought with it a passing feeling, like a long-forgotten memory triggered by a familiar scent. The visions grew darker as they slowed, the edges tinged with red. Daro felt a spike of fear as he saw men and women in a boat, dressed in rags and tied with rope. The image faded and was replaced by a dark cell, crowded with people. The sense of hopelessness nearly overwhelmed him. The tunnel continued, rushing at him with heat and brilliant white light, until he felt he might shatter, the pieces of himself streaming away into nothing.

A thunderclap of sound splintered the light. He flew backward and hit the floor. He lay on top of the broken chair and gasped for breath, his body warm and full, tingling with energy. Nihil and Sindre leaned over him, their eyes wide. Sindre spoke, but her words were broken, her face obscured by blinding flashes as if the sun shone behind her. Nihil put his gloved hand on Daro’s forehead, touching his face through the mask. Everything looked sluggish, as if moving in slow motion.

Daro turned and pushed himself up with his arms to get to his feet, blinking and shaking his head. Visions and memories swirled in his mind and he struggled to decipher what was real. He looked down at the broken chair. The table still stood in the center of the room, the Arcstone unchanged. The other prisoner lay face down on the table, his hands still bound to the stone, his body withered and dry. Above the rope his wrist cracked and his hand crumbled, spilling dust out over the table.

Daro took a step backward. Nihil and Sindre were in front of him, holding their hands out, speaking in soothing tones. His body felt saturated, every inch pulsing with energy. His breath came easily and he felt as if he could chase the sun across the continent without stopping.

Nihil peered into his eyes. “Can you hear me?”

Daro looked down at his hands. He nodded to Nihil and marveled in the way he felt. He could barely stand still, his body full to bursting.

A wicked smile crept over Nihil’s face as he gazed up at Daro. He nodded slowly as he looked him up and down. “Success,” he said, a tone of lust in his voice. “You are Number Fourteen.”

22. NEWS UNEXPECTED

Cecily rubbed her hands to massage the warmth back into them. She sat at the back of the Ale Stone, at Callum’s usual table. A messenger had pressed a folded note into her hand, a hastily scrawled message from Callum with instructions to meet him.

Mira sat next to her and scanned the tables. Although Rogan had failed to contact her since Alastair had insisted she return to the palace, Mira had stayed with Cecily to offer protection. Cecily tired of the constant presence of her friend, although she knew Mira meant well. And she had to admit, no one had tried to kill her since the fire at the inn, so perhaps it was a good thing the tall woman followed her everywhere.

She slumped back in her chair. It bothered her that she felt so tired all the time. She understood her friends’ insistence that she remain hidden while they searched for signs of Daro. The fire had scared them all. However, the incessant waiting was slowly driving her mad. The weeks dragged on and she itched to hear from Rogan, clinging to the hope of a breakthrough.

“Have you been having nightmares lately?” Mira asked, her voice jolting Cecily from her thoughts.

Cecily looked askance at her friend. “Why?”

“I check on you in the night and it’s obvious you’re dreaming. I get the feeling they aren’t pleasant.”

Her face warmed with embarrassment. She wondered what she said while she was sleeping. “You’re right, they aren’t pleasant. I can’t make sense of them most of the time.” She paused, not sure how much she wished to share, although there was a measure of relief in talking about it. “Sometimes I see things, like I’m in another place. I see faces, people I don’t recognize, but they seem real. The worst dreams have a light, like I’m traveling through a tunnel. I see all these images and it feels”—she paused and searched for the words—”it feels as if I’m falling through someone else’s emotions. They’re like sheets hung out to dry, blowing in the wind, and I’m running through them, feeling them brush against me as I pass. But they aren’t sheets—they’re someone else’s feelings and memories. It’s awful.”

Mira’s nose screwed up in a look of distaste. “That is awful. I thought maybe you were dreaming of Daro.”

“I think I am,” she said, her voice quiet.

Callum dropped into a chair facing them. His hair was messier than usual and his shirt looked rumpled. He tossed a thick gold coin on the table and blew out a breath in obvious frustration.

“What happened?” Cecily asked.

Callum rubbed his face with his hands and shook his head. His mouth was tight, and his whole body looked tense. “The bloody bastard.”

Cecily could feel Callum’s anger. It reminded her of the wash of emotions in her dreams. “Callum, be careful, you’re Projecting again.”

He pressed a hand to his eyes. “I know, I’m sorry.” He glanced over both shoulders and leaned across the table. “I honestly don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s Rogan.”

Cecily’s heart jumped in her chest and her stomach tightened. She felt Mira stiffen next to her. “What happened? Is he okay?”

He let out another breath. “Oh no, nothing happened to him. Not yet, at least.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Cecily, he knows who has Daro.”

Cecily’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind swam with the possibilities. “He found him? Where is he? What do we need to do?”

“You don’t understand what I mean. He didn’t find Daro. He always knew who took him.”

Cecily leaned away. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. That isn’t possible.”

“I found out who has Daro. I heard about him a couple of months ago, but at the time I wasn’t sure he was behind the abductions. His name is Nihil and I think he’s been abducting people for years. And I was right—he’s working with smugglers from Sahaar.”

“What does this have to do with Rogan?” Cecily asked.

“From what I can gather, Rogan’s been supplying this guy for years. He probably knows right where he is, and he’s kept it from us the entire time.”

“You can’t be serious,” Mira said, her voice sharp. “Rogan wouldn’t lie to us.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either. I’ve had my frustrations with Rogan, but this… I didn’t see this coming.”

Mira shook her head. “What proof do you have? You expect us to take your word over that of the king?”

Callum leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “I have plenty of proof. Most of it is chained up in a dark hole, but I can take you there if you really want to hear it for yourself.”

“I don’t understand,” Cecily said.

“A few months ago, some of my people found a building, an old manor house of some minor lord. It looked abandoned, but they saw people going in, big groups of them, although no one ever came out. I kept eyes on the building and finally we saw someone leave. It was just one man, but it was something. I managed to grab him a few weeks ago. He couldn’t tell me much, but it was enough to start putting the pieces together.” He took a deep breath and continued. “His job was to get the shipments into the house. He claimed not to know what happened to them after that, and after everything I did to him, he probably doesn’t.”

“By shipments, what exactly do you mean?” Mira asked.

“Slaves,” Callum said. The word fell heavy on their ears. “I tracked down the owner of the manor, someone named Nihil Suor. He’s using it as a waypoint to traffic people into Halthas. The only thing I still can’t find is where they go from there. But that isn’t all. Nihil sends men with the shipments, to get them through the city. My prisoner had some very interesting things to say about Wielders with unnatural abilities and eyes that are a swirl of different colors.” He paused to let it sink in. “I was right. This Nihil bastard is buying slaves, and he must be the one who has Daro. Unless you know someone else with eyes like that.”

They sat for a moment as Cecily considered what Callum told her. Her mind was a knot of confusion.

“We need to be careful here,” Callum continued, “Nihil’s men are dangerous. The guy I captured is terrified. He practically begged me to keep him hidden. But he isn’t only afraid his bosses will find out he talked. He’s afraid of Nihil.”

“None of this has anything to do with Rogan,” said Mira.

“It would seem so,” he said. He produced a folded piece of paper, seemingly out of nowhere, grasped between two fingers. “Except for this.” He flicked it onto the table.

Cecily picked up the note and unfolded it with trembling hands.

R ~

We have come too far to back out now. I assure you, you will be enormously pleased with the progress I have made. Do not trouble yourself with the details. I am attending to everything.

I advise you to wait patiently for the fruits of our labor. Anything less will lead to, shall I say, unfortunate consequences.

N

She dropped the note on the table. Mira snatched it up and read the contents. It took her a moment to process what she had read.
The fruits of our labor?
“How do you know this is for Rogan? ‘R’ could mean anyone.”