Devour, page 9
Finally, we stop in front of one of the wooden doors. I look around before my Dread pushes it open without using a lock. There is nothing special about this particular spot. I wouldn’t know how to find it if I ever needed to, let alone figure out how to get out of the mountain.
“In,” he demands.
I rush past him into the small, dark room, and my trembling knees buckle, dropping me to the ground. My breaths come in too fast. My mind is a mess of fear and sadness. My eyes lock on a smear of red blood on my forearm.
Somehow, that is what opens the door to panic, and I am quickly flooded.
My chest is crushed under the weight of my reality. I scream and slam my fist into the stone, which sends roaring pain up my arm and into my back.
I sob uncontrollably.
The door shuts with a thunk.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but it feels as if an hour must have passed before I finally notice that I am alone.
I twist awkwardly, panic still pressing down on my chest and black still peppering my vision, but I find a closed door and no one by it.
My new personal Dread left and has not come back, which is a relief but also somewhat confusing because as I finally take a good look around, I find it hard to believe this is a room made for me—a captive.
It’s not particularly large, but it looks lived in, and actually fairly cozy.
Though the walls and floor are uneven dark stone, it is furnished with a fur bed and a flickering lantern opposite it. Several wicker baskets line the other wall, filled with clothes of some kind. There are weapons stacked in the corner.
Those are most certainly not for me. I could easily end my life with them if I wanted. If I didn’t have a loved one to reunite with, I might have even considered it.
Could I catch my captor by surprise and kill him the moment he enters the room next? Certainly the cult wouldn’t want that. The chances I could succeed in that endeavor are slim. Besides, what then?
Where would I go? As soon as the cult found out I’d be fed to the draken. I shiver.
Quickly, I grab a small, ribbed knife before I can convince myself against it. I don’t know what purpose it could possibly serve, but it feels good to have some ability to defend myself. I tear a stretch of cloth from my leggings and wrap it around my thigh, pinning the blade uncomfortably against my flesh, then I carefully maneuver my skirt to cover it.
I look through a few more items. There is a small wooden shelf with jars of liquids. I peer into a few of the jars, but I couldn’t confidently identify a single one. They could be poisons, or they could be herbal remedies, or they could simply be recreational spirits.
The door swings open, and it’s as if I’ve been struck. I stumble back, slamming against the uneven stone wall.
The Dread, still covered in blood, stands there with wide eyes.
The moment of stillness settles between us. He doesn’t approach me. He doesn’t attack. He just watches, as if he were the one who should be afraid.
Finally, he slowly lifts an object in his right hand. A bucket.
“To wash the blood,” he says softly. Too soft. Why would a man twice my size who drinks blood and rides reptile beasts speak so softy? “And to drink.”
When I don’t move, he slowly sets the bucket on the ground.
“There—there will be opportunities to bathe, and there will be food, but for the night, this will have to do.”
His shadow looms over my crumpled body. Harsh stone, bitter cold. And him, my nightmare.
He shifts on his feet, and I squeeze my eyes closed, bracing for what will come next.
Moments pass, almost long enough for me to open my eyes, to beg him to just get it over with. Whatever happens here, just let it happen. This waiting is a torment of its own.
He squats down beside me.
“Please,” I mutter. I don’t even know what I’m begging for. To get it over with? To leave me alone? To free me? To undo the past and start it all over?
The Dread slowly drags the cloth mask down from his face, dark eyes intense with unclear emotion.
I take in a breath and hold it, unable to look away. This monster that has taken me captive is… just a man. He has sharp features, exaggerated in the flickering orange light of the fire.
His lips are slightly plump. His nose is long. His brows strong.
He is handsome, in a strange way.
He watches me closely, measuring each movement. He tilts his head, carefully considering me, until finally, he releases a breath and his shoulders relax.
“You are mine now,” he tells me gently. “Do you know what that means?”
I swallow and shake my head.
“It means no one else can touch you without my permission. It means you are precious in this community, and you will be treated as such.”
“It means you can do whatever you’d like to me.”
His eyes darken. His chin dips. My heart rattles, waiting for him to admit his corrupted intentions. Waiting for him to act.
“What do you desire, Dove?” he murmurs.
Grief rises up in my soul because—hell, I don’t even know. I want to be free of this place. I want Astella. Tears sting my eyes. “Freedom,” is the answer I finally whisper through salty tears.
He sits back, stretching the space between us. “That is unfortunate.”
Unfortunate because he intends to take it away indefinitely?
“Freedom, is the one thing this place is entirely absent of.”
He grips my chin and tugs it up toward him. My eyes obey his unspoken command, as if by some spell, but I do not feel the prickle of magic. Just him. His energy. His natural power.
The fear he holds over me.
“I am sorry for your fear. But you now belong to The Ancient,” he bites out the words, nothing gentle left in his tone or demeanor. “The moment the shadows of this mountain touched your delicate skin, you lost. There is no escape. There is no hope left. The quicker you learn that, the easier this will be.”
My lips tremble. As my Dread releases me, leaving the place his skin touched colder than it’s ever been, I believe him.
I am no stranger to loss. Grief has been my most constant companion; I know his bitter kiss all too well. So, while this misery is a vice grip on my chest, suffocating me slowly, I also know that when the sun rises, I will again find my light.
The sun is so far away down here, I realize. But I suck in a deep breath.
Maybe here, the sun will be a tiny flicker at the end of an endless tunnel, but somewhere in the shadows, light exists.
I promised Astella I would find it, and so I will.
Finally, he huffs. “You are a little dove in a viper’s nest.”
Then, he shakes his head, eyes distant. He spins on his heel and charges from the room as if heading into battle. The door slams behind him, and I am alone yet again.
Here, in this room, there is an illusion of safety, but I know outside that door, in the shadows of this underground city, beasts are waiting to pounce.
20
Lina
Ishould have died a hundred different times in a dozen different ways over the last several years. Yet, somehow, I am still breathing.
Trembling on a cold stone floor. Alone. Face red and sticky with tears.
But breathing nonetheless.
I may not be as brave as I’d like, I may tremble when I face the horrors of this world, but the simple fact that I am still breathing is a miracle.
I watched it crumble. The towns. The trade routes. The people, trampled underfoot. Sometimes killed by our own, so desperate for escape they would do anything, even tear their friends and family apart.
Fear does terrible things to people. It changes them.
But if there is one strength I was given, it is to find the good and cling to it.
I would never consider betraying a friend to benefit myself. I would never give up hope, even for an eternity of comfort.
It might be the only strength I have, but I am proud of it. I refuse to let these vile warriors and their death-worshipping cult be what finally snuffs out my light.
So, while my heart is sore and aching, it does more than beat.
It believes.
This place is a labyrinth of tunnels that I cannot untangle, and I wouldn’t stand a chance against even one of the warriors, let alone the drakai they ride.
I shiver at the thought of the pit I’d been forced to pass over on my way to the city, filled with those lizard monsters. And the image of the scaled beast they threatened me with before being claimed…
There must be a way, though.
I believe I will be free of this place and find Astella again, even if it isn’t logical. Because if I give up, I may as well succumb to the despair and let these monsters take whatever parts of my body and soul they want.
There will be nothing left worth fighting for.
I grip the knob of the wooden door and pretend I am braver than I am. I must be. Only a truly brave woman could face the worst demons this world has to offer and intend to beat them.
That must mean I’m brave, then, right?
My stomach sinks—yet my heart soars—when the knob turns without difficulty.
Some part of me expected it to be locked. Shouldn’t they have trapped me in this room? What kind of prison is this? With unlocked doors and weapons freely available?
The kind with other tricks up its sleeve. It’s Astella’s voice that warns me. Whether my imagination or that girl has learned some new impressive tricks with her sorcery, I don’t care. The voice is right.
They don’t need to trap me in the room to keep me harnessed.
But from everything I know of these people, wouldn’t they want to? Don’t they enjoy the pain and despair they enact on others?
So, why give me so much freedom within my chains?
I shake my head from the spiral of confusion and instead thrust open the heavy oak door. The hall flickers with orange light; torches hanging every so often keep it unevenly lit.
When I release a breath, it comes out as a little puff of white. I shiver against the cold.
I look both ways down the seemingly unending tunnel. No movement. No smells beyond the mildewy scent of the cavern.
I abandon my shoes in the room for the sake of stealth and slide over the cool stone. It feels nice on my sore feet. When I come to a split, I ignore it and continue straight. There are other wooden doors here, far apart. Other Dread? Other captives? I don’t particularly want to find out.
The tunnel eventually leads to a supply room, with chests and stacks of buckets. I bite my lip and consider. Even now, a few hundred feet straight down the hall, will I be able to find my door again? I decide to test it once by walking back from where I’d come.
I still second guess myself as I stand in front of the imposing wooden door because if I’m wrong, I could end up face to face with a fanged killer eager to drink my blood, or worse.
Heart throbbing, I conjure the courage to push the door open to an empty room with ruffled fur blankets, flickering lantern, and stacks of baskets and weapons in the corner. I release a relieved breath. This is the dwelling he left me in.
After double checking the hall is still empty, I make use of my new weapon. It’s difficult to make a dent in the dark wood, but after a few seconds, I manage to make a small mark that won’t be particularly noticeable to others, yet is still recognizable to me.
With more confidence, I head back out into the tunnels. One by one, I enter different halls. Some seem to lead nowhere or get so cold and dark I know I must be going the wrong way. Others lead to what I assume are social gathering areas. One is a domed room with semi circles of cushions, and another has a massive oak table with a dozen chairs.
Everything is empty and still, though.
I try my best to keep track of each hall that doesn’t lead anywhere new, without making any more markings. It’s hard, though, as everything looks nearly identical. The halls curve and twist, but I can’t keep enough track of each twist.
Finally, I notice the floor tilting up, so I eagerly follow the path I assume at least takes me closer to the surface but maybe even out of the labyrinth.
I rush forward, and within a few minutes, I notice the air getting noticeably warmer.
“What do we have here?”
I suck in a breath and twist to find a Dread staring down at me. I cower against the stone wall behind me but don’t even have the mind to flee from him.
Instead, I stare at him like a panicked bunny, frozen in shock.
He’s smaller than the others I’ve seen so far, but most strikingly, he is maskless. For once I can see a full face. Normal. He looks normal. Young even.
Strange clothes, half his body exposed, even his feet. He’s just an adolescent boy, older than Astella, younger than me. Maybe fourteen, if I had to guess.
He smirks, but there’s a playful lilt to his eye.
“Escaping is impossible, you know.” He crosses his arms. “Better scuttle back where you belong before you’re found by someone much worse than me.”
My heart races, but the mini-Dread doesn’t move to grab me.
“You’re new, huh? Here let me—” He turns and waves for me to follow him, but I don’t dare budge.
Instead, I consider rushing back to my prison.
What will I do there? Sleep? What if my Dread is back and intends to torture me? Suck my blood? I don’t know what they do or what he wants me for, and I’m not eager to find out.
The young warrior disappears down the hall and I wait. Could I sneak past and keep going, hoping to find the way out even though I’ve already been found out? If it were that easy, there’s no way he would have left me here. But I have to try, right?
I take a few deep breaths and inch slowly and as quietly as possible back up the hall toward where the intimidating boy went.
“There you are.”
I gasp, again throwing my back against the stone wall opposite him.
He’s grinning. “Here, I just went to grab this for you—” He holds out a small red cloth bag.
When I don’t reach for it, he dumps the contents into his open palm. Small round crackers appear that are so pale they are nearly white.
“I thought maybe you were hungry if you were just brought in. Maybe trying to escape too; they do that a lot. They don’t make it, though, just so you know. You’re almost to the bathing chambers.” He points over his shoulder. “It’s the middle of the night, though, so it’ll be empty. Trust me, it’s not as bad here as whatever you’re expecting. At least, not once you’ve made it to this part of the den.” He grins, like he’s given me good news.
I frown. He’s willingly giving me information. Just rambling.
How is this one of the legendary Drak warriors? Nothing is scary about him. Unless he’s just trying to make me comfortable before he—no, what reason would he have to do that? Even a mini-warrior is stronger than me. He could do whatever he wanted.
“Why?” I rasp. I don’t know why my voice is hoarse. The sobbing? Was I screaming? “Why are you helping?”
His smile is sweet. Is he actually what he appears? A kind kid, but they’re going to turn him into one of those monsters that kills for sport?
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re important?”
I flinch. Important? “What could possibly be important about me?”
“Never know.” He shrugs. “Besides, we get new people enough that we’re kinda used to it. I’d rather help than—well, I know the outside world is rough. People come in starving and who knows what else. So, it’s best just to help people along a little. If you get a little food in your belly and then sleep, you’ll probably have someone show you around and help you get cleaned up in the morning.”
He wrinkles his nose, looking down at my disheveled clothes.
“You’ll be in a much better mood after all of that. I promise.”
“Where is the other part?”
His brow pinches. “What?”
“You said once you made it to this part of the den, you’ll be okay. What about the other part?”
“Oh, well, you want to stay clear of the priestesses. They’re scarier than the soldiers, but you wouldn’t know it just looking at them. Outsiders aren’t meant for those rituals.”
My blood turns cold.
“Is that where they take the others? To be used in rituals?”
He frowns. “No…” He looks down at his feet, then when he looks back, there is a darkness to his features that makes me retreat a step. “There’s the dungeon. That’s where they take the criminals. You don’t want to go there either.”
“Is that the big cavern area with the skulls?”
He pauses before answering me again. “No.” He narrows his eyes. “Why are you asking?”
I consider what I should tell him. He’s clearly not a direct threat, but he’s still one of them. Was he raised here? Is this all he’s even known?
“I saw them take people away. A little girl. A man. What were they doing with them?” It’s not technically true. I have no idea what happened to anyone else at the bonfire. But I need as much information as I can.
I remember the stories I’d heard about the cult and their rituals of pain. But I’m in deeper than any of the stories I’d ever heard. None of the refugees had been here and made it out to tell the tale. At least, no one I’ve ever encountered.
His face softens. “You don’t have to worry about that. They’re far away from you. And if, for some very bad reason, you try to find your way to that side of the den, you’ll regret it. I promise.”
21
Haze
She’s gone.
My blood is cold as I stare at the empty room. My vision turns hazy.
Maybe I made it all up. It was in my mind the whole time. The ghost of a memory.
I shake my head. That would be a good thing—a blessing—if she were gone from this place. It would mean she could still be out there, free and happy.
