To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (42 page)

The debris from the tunnel fell alongside him as he plunged into icy cold water. It wasn’t deep and he pushed against the bottom, his head lurching to the surface. The cold rocked his body like a beating and he felt the last of the energy he’d Absorbed leach out into the freezing torrent as the water swept him down.

The darkness was nearly impenetrable, and he struggled against panic. The voices in his head howled and his limbs grew stiff and heavy. Number Four yelled behind him, an incoherent bellow, choked with water. Pathius sputtered, coughing as the swift current carried them on. He thought about Absorbing energy from the water, but didn’t want to wind up encased in ice.

A hand gripped the back of his shirt, and Pathius reached around to grasp Number Four’s wrist. It was difficult to make his hands move, his fingers already numb with cold.

“Storm drain,” Number Four yelled.

He was right. They were being swept along the storm drain system, pipes underneath the city streets that carried rainwater out to the river. If they were lucky, Shaper ingenuity would extend to practicality and there would be a walkway or a ledge leading to a way out. Pathius reached for the side of the narrow pipe, hoping to find a surface to grip. His hand came down on flat stone and he lobbed his other arm over, trying to hoist himself up on the side. Kicking his numb legs to propel him forward, he lurched up onto the narrow ledge and dragged his body out of the water.

He couldn’t see for the darkness but he heard Number Four cough up water on the ledge further downstream. A dim orange light glowed and as Pathius crept closer, he could see it was a handful of glowing rocks, shining through Number Four’s fingers.

Shuddering with cold, Pathius leaned his back against the wall, and his head drifted back to rest against the pipe. Number Four handed him a glowing hot rock. It burned Pathius’s fingers but he Absorbed the energy and the glow faded to dullness. The warmth spread through him like a wood fire on a wintery day. He handed the cold rock back to Number Four and exchanged it for another searing pebble. He Absorbed the heat, letting it trail into him slowly, and cupped his hands around the stone to warm them.

His mind sharpened as his body warmed. A voice told him he should be afraid. He had done the unthinkable. Nihil would never let him go, and if he did, his implant was sure to kill him. Did he fight his way out only to endure a slow and painful death in a few days? He hadn’t been lying when he told the others he didn’t believe it. He knew Sindre had power over him when she was close, but her medallion had limits, as did her reach. He no more believed his implant was going to spontaneously kill him than he believed Nihil was a true Magister of the Lyceum.

“Thank you,” Pathius said as he turned to look at Number Four.

Number Four nodded, water dripping from his mask. His face was ruddy in the orange glow of his rocks. “I’m tired of belonging to him.”

“Nihil won’t let us go,” Pathius said. “He’ll find out we’re alive and he’ll come for us.”

Number Four was silent for a moment. “So what do we do?”

Pathius turned his head and looked Number Four in the eyes. “We come for him first.”

42. CHAINS

Cecily stood outside the locked room and pressed her hand against the door. She closed her eyes and felt the contents with her Awareness. The room was small and square, lined with fist-sized sunstones in a ring around the top of the wall, just below the ceiling. The room was a closely guarded secret of the Lyceum, a place reserved for containing powerful Wielders. The sunstones, normally used to store heat, had the ability to draw power from any source nearby. People typically set them out in the sun or near their fire to charge them, then dropped them in their bath to warm it. The enormous concentration of sunstones in this room had the ability to draw energy from a Wielder and weaken their power.

Daro lay in the center of the room, bound with thick chains. His arms were stretched wide, his legs wrapped in the sturdy coils, all of it bolted to the floor. They had tried to restrain him with leather straps, but he’d broken through them as if they were nothing but thread. Even with the absorption collar and room filled with sunstones, his strength was formidable.

Rogan approached and Cecily closed her Awareness, feeling the world come crashing in around her. She blinked and turned to him, her heart heavy.

“How is he?” Rogan asked.

“Quiet,” she said. “He just lies there, staring at the ceiling.”

Rogan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cecily. I wish there was more I could do.”

“What happened at the compound?” she asked. Rogan had returned with his force the day before. She hadn’t had an opportunity to ask him for the details.

“They knew we were coming, as we suspected,” he said. “It appears Pathius told the truth about Nihil abandoning it. At first they seemed to defend their position, but after a while they disappeared. Some of the men started cheering, thinking we’d won. That was when the building collapsed.”

“It collapsed? The whole thing?”

Rogan nodded. “It came apart and sunk into a hole. We’re lucky I hadn’t yet sent any men inside. No one could have survived that. When it was over, there was nothing left but a pile of smoking debris.”

“Was there anyone left?”

“Not that we found. It’s possible whoever was left there to defend it got away somehow, but I don’t know where. We searched the entire area and didn’t find even the hint of a trail. Merrick is convinced there was a tunnel underground, but the entrance was completely buried.”

“It probably connects to the tunnel where we found Daro.” She turned to look at Rogan. “That one had an entrance to the palace. It clearly hadn’t been used in years, but you need to make sure it’s sealed off permanently.”

Rogan nodded. “The Paragon already informed me. We’re working on a plan to flood the tunnels. If there’s anyone hiding down there, by tonight they’ll be flushed out.”

Paragon Windsor walked over and nodded to Rogan and Cecily in turn. “Have you seen any progress since yesterday?” he asked.

“No.” Cecily had been there day and night, even sleeping in the hallway outside Daro’s cell. The other companions camped out around the circular top floor of the library, taking turns sitting with her, all of them refusing to leave.

“My Sensors report the same thing they saw with the other one we captured,” Windsor said. “He is burning with energy, but there’s something else inside of him, something they can’t explain. There is energy that clearly belongs to him, yet it is mixed with energy that appears to be from others.”

“Other people?” Cecily asked.

“It would seem so. We suspected based on our other captive that Nihil had developed some sort of energy transference. If he found a way to draw the energy from one Wielder into another, it might explain what we’re seeing.”

“But Daro isn’t a Wielder,” she said. “He never had power of any kind.”

“He appears to be one now,” Windsor said. “Or something resembling one.”

“How is that even possible?” Cecily asked. “You can’t just turn someone with no abilities into a Wielder.”

Rogan spoke up. “Perhaps it is something he inherited from his father.”

“That is a possibility,” Windsor said. “We have little understanding of the powers the Imarans possess. Perhaps he had something within for Nihil to manipulate.”

The thought was sickening. Her stomach tightened every time she thought of what they had done to him. “We have to get that implant out of him,” Cecily said.

Windsor sighed. “I agree with you. We tried with our previous captive. I don’t know if we could take it out without killing him. And to be honest, I’m concerned about unchaining Daro, even to turn him over. The Serum Shapers had a difficult time sedating him enough to get him where he is now. If we try to remove that implant, I can’t predict what he’ll do.” He turned to look Cecily in the eyes. “I fear the man is broken beyond repair.”

“I respect your concern, Paragon, but I won’t give up.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going in again.”

“Very well,” Windsor said and turned. His deep blue robes swished across the floor as he walked back to his study.

Rogan laid a hand on her arm. “Be careful. I know you look at him and see Daro, but the man in there isn’t your husband. I hope Daro is still in there somewhere, but right now, he’s dangerous. I don’t like you going in there alone.”

“I know,” she said as she met Rogan’s eyes. “But I have to keep trying.”

Rogan unlocked the door and she stepped in, listening for the click of the lock behind her. The sunstones pulled at her power, leaving her feeling heavy and lethargic, like she’d had a big meal and too much wine. She sat down in the plain wooden chair and pulled it as close to Daro as she dared.

He lay sprawled on a thick carpet on the floor, his black clothes smudged with dirt and dust. His hair spilled out around his head and his jaw was set, his teeth clenched. Seeing her husband in chains was horrifying, but it was his eyes that made her heart pound and her stomach flutter. The multicolored swirl was unnatural and difficult to look at. She remembered them shining brightly when she had faced him in Wesfell, and in the tunnel where they’d captured him. Now they were dull, the colors muted and weak.

He stared at the ceiling and appeared to ignore her. The muscles in his jaw stood out and his breathing was even; his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. In a way it was an improvement over his first day in the cell. He had raged against his chains, snarling and shouting like a wild animal. She had called out his name, begged him to stop, sobbed as she watched him rail. If he had heard her voice then, he’d given no sign of recognition, nor did he now.

His newfound calm grew unnerving. She sat and watched him for a while, looking him up and down, and wondered what was going to become of him.

“This isn’t how I imagined things,” she said, her quiet voice cutting the silence. “We spent all that time trying to find you, but none of it has gone how I planned.” Her hands began to tremble and her voice shook. “I was supposed to come charging in, all our friends at my side, cutting a path to your prison. We were supposed to be unstoppable, the companions together again. Rogan with his sword drawn, ready to throw fire. Alastair, reluctant as he may be to fight these days, would be there to fight for you. Serv would stick the feet of his unsuspecting foes to the floor while his sword cut them to ribbons. Griff would rush in, his axe cutting down everyone in his path. Sumara would dart through and jolt her enemies to send them sprawling. Callum would cover the whole place in a miasma of terror, sending half of them running for their lives. Mira would hang back, an arrow for everyone who ran. Even Edson would stand with us, charging in with his blade drawn.”

She took another breath. “You would see me coming, and hope would give you strength. You’d pick up the sword of a fallen enemy and join us as we slayed everyone who was left. They would pay for what they had done to you and we’d leave no man alive.” She sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “When it was over, we would stand with our friends in triumph. You would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear how much you loved me.” She shuddered and choked, hardly able to get the words out. “We would cry together and you’d refuse to let go of me for days.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She let them fall. Daro stared at the ceiling, the tendons in his neck standing out. “But this,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “This was not how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to get you back. But I still don’t know where you are. And the worst part is, I have no idea where to look.” She wiped the dripping tears from her cheek. “I thought you were hard to find before. Now I don’t even know where to begin.”

She paused, and her breath came in shaky gasps. She wiped her eyes again. “Daro, you have to help me. You have to give me something, some sign you’re still in there. Because right now, I don’t know who you are. You’re just a man who looks an awful lot like my husband.”

The tears came again and despair churned in her belly. “You have to fight this. You have to fight to get out. I don’t know what they did to you. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I know that I can’t fix this for you. I will try to reach you, until the end of my days if that is what it takes, but I’m out here, banging against a glass wall that won’t break.”

She took another shuddering breath. “Please, Daro. You have to be in there somewhere. You have to keep fighting.”

“I can’t.” His voice scraped from his throat, like a knife across burnt bread.

Cecily gasped and her heart lurched. Leaning forward, she searched his face. “Yes, yes, you can. I know you’re in there. Just keep coming, keep trying. Please, Daro.” Her heart beat fast and her body thrilled with hope.

Scooting forward off the front of her chair, she crouched down low. She lifted a trembling hand and reached for Daro. His hands were balled up in tight fists and she sent her fingers out, daring to brush his hand with hers.

He threw himself against his chains and let out a guttural growl from his throat. His face turned toward her with a snarl. Cecily sprang back and caught herself with her arms behind her. His breathing was heavy and he pulled against his chains, lifting his head, as his body strained against his bonds. He laid his head back on the floor and took heaving breaths, his teeth clenched. His arms ripped up again and the chains clanked against the floor, before his eyes fixed on the ceiling and he lay still.