Unleashed: The Deepest Fears Lie Within (Secrets of the Makai) (28 page)

“Not exactly. This display is probably worth millions, but do you see us selling it off for profit?” She continued when he ignored her. “Yes, it was found in a cave after the dragon was conquered.”

“Murdered, you mean.” He wasn’t the only one who needed to be rescued; the six gems were as much a prisoner of this place as he was.

Shaely sighed. “It’s no different than killing tigers or cougars. Once they started hunting people, they had to be dealt with. Simple as that.”

Tristan glanced at Molajah and went to the next display, where a brilliant blue sapphire twinkled in the palm of a crystal hand. He recognized it instantly and nearly knocked the case over when he swayed against it.

“We should get you to your cell,” Shaely said, keeping him steady. “I didn’t mean to be in here this long.”

“What is this?”

“Just another gem. Apparently, the dragons had a thing for bling.”

Shaely tugged on his arm and he almost tripped over his chained feet.

“Give me a sec—”
Haven’t I see this before?

Yes. The plea for help appears to loop in time, and not always in the same location. No one summoned has ever been able to alter the course of events. Not even myself.

It really happened?

The gems contain future generations of magical beings. Their powers, along with our binding commitment to the contract, keeps them concealed from the world in the essence of a time capsule.

“Come on, Tristan. I can’t carry you.”

For how long?

For until we decide, as a council, that the world is a less violent, more habitable place for their kind.

Will that ever happen?

I doubt it. But it makes no difference. The contract can never be fulfilled—the beings will never be released and we will be bound forevermore.

But you just said….

There is only one way for the magical races to be reborn into this world. No part of the process can be replicated. It is a foolproof method and it requires a dragon. An actual dragon.

Tristan took it all in, saddened by the fact that the beings thought they would be safe, and were now imprisoned forever, but also relieved to hear that there were no more dragons.

I’ve been authorized to negotiate a deal with you.

“I really don’t want them to find us in here,” continued Shaely.

I’ll see that Jacques, your falcon, is freed from confinement as well as all charges of High Treason—

Tristan looked up when Molajah stopped speaking.

The door swooshed open and three of Shaely’s brothers swept into the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said the one in the middle, pulling a handgun from the inside of his denim jacket. His broad shoulders nearly filled the walkway as he stomped toward them, pointing the gun at Tristan. The other two circled around.

“You can’t shoot a gun in here,” Shaely said, raising her chin a notch.

“It was my fault,” Tristan said. “I wanted to see—”

“Shut up, dragon boy.”

“We’re heading to his cell—”

Tristan lunged when the man backhanded Shaely, gun still in hand, but couldn’t bring his hands forward by more than a few inches. He mentally shielded himself on the way down, seeing the pointed boot coming up at him, and wasn’t sure what got him first—the kick, something like a baseball bat from behind, or the electrified metal band on his head.

29
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A DRAGGING GROAN woke Tristan as his cell door opened, revealing someone
’
s silhouette.

“Shaely?” His lips barely formed the word. Half his face felt numb. Or swollen. He wasn’t sure which.

A cold blast of water hit him in the gut.

Tristan recoiled, lying on his side, unable to pull his hands and feet in to protect himself. He didn’t dare construct a mental shield.

The stinging stream of water hit every bruise on his body and he barely caught a breath before it reached his face. The figure stepped back and slammed the door, plunging the room into pitch-darkness again.

When the air shifted inches from his head, Tristan shielded himself without thinking. Dim sparks reflected in the puddles of water and alighted Shaely’s smooth skin as pain shot down his spine.

If he could stay conscious long enough to notice, maybe he could tough it out and do something useful. Like get himself home.

“Tristan!”

Something wiped at his eyes and he still couldn’t move.

“I figured he’d have learned by now,” said a male voice.

Only one of his eyes would open.

“Tristan? Oh, thank God.” Shaely wiped at his forehead with the cloth.

A naked bulb hung from the ceiling, but didn’t appear strong enough to reach the walls. Shaely dipped the blood-soaked washcloth into a bucket of water.

A bulky figure stood behind her with his arms crossed. He had a mask over his face and a hood to match. “Let’s get on with it,” he said, dodging puddles as he walked out of sight.

A series of hollow, metal clanks echoed in the darkness. Tristan’s arms lifted a few inches off the ground. He twisted to see what was happening.

“I’ll round everyone up.” Light flooded the room for a brief instant as the man opened the door and left the room.

Tristan focused on Shaely.

“You’ll be okay,” she said, dabbing at the eye that wouldn’t open. “They’re wearing the hoods and masks so you can’t identify anyone. It’s a great sign!”

“Great.”

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she said.

He doubted it, annoyed by her pleasant smiles that seemed so sincere. “How long have I been here?”

“Not long at all. A few days maybe.”

Tristan melted into the floor, devastated.

Someone should have found him by now, if they were looking. He sucked in a breath when Shaely shook his ribcage. “Don’t pass out! They want to start the trial and the sooner you get through it, the sooner you can go home. Can you move your feet?”

“No.” But even as he said it, he was able to bring his knees forward, dragging a chain across stone. “Do I have to walk?”

“They’ll do it all right here, but they’ll want you to stand. I can help you up, but that’s it.” She lowered her lips next to his ear. “They need a unanimous vote to kill you, and they won’t get it.” She leaned back and grinned, then shook him as his eyes closed. “Stay awake!”

“Do I get a lawyer?”

“It’s not that kind of trial. And you shouldn’t want to put it off; the sooner you get out, the sooner you can get medical attention.”

An amber light on a distant wall flickered on, exposing a parade of hooded people entering the room, well beyond the reaches of the light bulb above him.

“Please stand,” said a deep voice.

Shaely smiled with an encouraging nod and helped him to his knees, then to his feet.

The clanking noise started up again, taking in the slack of chain until his hands were pulled level with his chest. His shoulders ached from the stretched-out position he had been in on the floor.

Shaely tucked his hair behind his ears and dabbed playfully at the tip of his nose. “Hold onto the chain to keep the cuffs from weighing on your wrists.”

Her cheeriness sickened his nerves. “My hands are numb, Shaely. How am I supposed to grip anything?”

“I’ll bet we’re done in half an hour, okay? Just, hang in there. I mean—you know what I mean.”

Tristan remained silent, flexing his fingers to get the circulation flowing.

“You are accused of being a dragon.”

Tristan barked a harsh laugh. “By who?” Something hit his ribs from behind, he couldn’t pull his elbows back far enough to protect himself and fought the urge to shield himself mentally.

The second blow came to the back of his knees, making his legs go numb—he collapsed, yanked to a stop by the cuffs on his wrists. His knees hovered inches from the ground.

He spun half a circle as water blasted his chest and neck. Blood seeped down his arms. Tristan stared at the dark ceiling, past the light. Waiting. Refusing to do anything that might trigger the band on his head.

Get on your feet, young one.

His feet were numb and he couldn’t lift his head. He couldn’t possibly stand. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Shaely appeared from nowhere with something in her hands. “Oxygen,” she said, placing a clear rubber mask over his face.

He took a breath, then another, then got his feet under himself to ease the stress on his arms. Shaely took the mask away and winked before she walked back to the cloaked crowd, taking her seat with the others.

The hint of a light flickered on, the pale blue of a computer monitor coming to life behind a cubicle wall to the right.

“How do you plea?”

Tristan couldn’t determine who was speaking; there had to be at least fifteen people sitting along the far side of the room, though he couldn’t be sure. He’d even lost track of which one was Shaely.

What was the computer for?

He straightened himself and stood firm, especially if the trial was being recorded. “I am NOT a dragon!”

A blow came to his other side; Tristan choked up blood, and would have thrown up if he’d had any breath. He couldn’t keep his knees locked and jerked to another sudden stop in a pit of blissful darkness.

“They’re breaking for lunch.” Shaely had the oxygen mask on his face and smiled. “Try not to make them so mad, or you’ll be dead before they can decide anything.”

It was all he could do to take one breath after another, but even that was becoming easier. The pain in his sides lessened, as did the pounding in his head. Even his shoulders seemed to get a second wind. “Water.”

“They’ll let you have food and water after the trial.”

“No they won’t and you know it. Help me up.”

“They’re not that bad—” she cut herself off, grimacing. “Okay, so they’re being a little harsh.”

“A little?”

“At least you’re getting better at not electrocuting yourself. That’s good!”

“The only thing they want is for me to suffer a long, painful death.” The pressure lessened on his shoulders and wrists when he could take the weight on his feet. “This trial is a sham.”

The door opened, spilling more light into the room. “Shaely,” scolded a man from the doorway. “He does not require your assistance.”

“I’d better go. Don’t forget what I said earlier about provoking.” She mouthed a silent kiss and walked away, bowing slightly at the man as she passed.

Tristan watched warily as the lights overhead went out. The man stayed silhouetted for a long moment as the door swung shut. He let out his breath, grateful to be alone.

When a hand covered his face, his mental shields flew up automatically. Sparks from the band lit the man’s eyes. Singed hair wafted around them.

“It’s okay with me if you want to defend yourself.”

Tristan forced his mind to relax and shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

“The only reason you’re on trial is because some of us feel guilty about the last one we killed: Nicodemus Something-or-other. But some of us like the hunt and making the kill.”

A fist struck him in the gut, propelling his feet off the ground. Tristan pulled his leg upward as he swung back toward the man, half curling in on himself, half intending to do damage if he could.

The man grunted on impact and Tristan could only hope he’d doubled over. He swung his knee up again, with much more force, and managed a second lucky shot to the man’s head.

That’s as far as he got though, he froze as a sharp pain stabbed through his stomach, all the way to his spine. His muscles convulsed around a long blade as it twisted its way out.

“You’re an abomination to the human race and I hope you bleed to death before lunch is over. Is that quick enough for you?”

The door opened, letting in a burst of light for a moment. The man stumbled into the hall, clearly hurting at least a little by the gait of his steps, and then the door swung shut, sealing the room in darkness.

Tristan spat a bit of blood to the ground in front of him and grinned.

For some reason, he was past feeling any pain. His wrists didn’t even hurt. Neither did his ribs. Or face. He began shaking at the realization, suddenly cold. “Molajah?”

I am here.

He tugged at the chains, desperate to break free.
What’s happening?
Even the knife wound seemed insignificant, but maybe he was just in shock?

We’ve been speculating. Twice now, they might have declared you dead, had they been paying attention.

Tristan shifted his weight, determined to stand for as long as possible to save his arms.
Who’s ‘we’?

The Seraphim Council. Jacques belongs as well, on a lesser level.

Is he still alive?