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Chapter 1:
Imelda wasn't alone.
Her eyes snapped open, though all she could see were the flames slowly dying in the fireplace. All of her senses were suddenly sharp. She could feel the cold floor beneath her cheek and hear how the rain had turned to sleet as it dropped heavily against the shingled roof. A sharp taste floated on her tongue, as if she had placed a metal spoon on it. Imelda listened, wondering if it had been a part of her dreams.
Then the screaming started again.
It was woman's scream. A man swore and the shrieks continued, seeming to get closer to her. She heard the man shout and all sound immediately ceased. The change was so abrupt that Imelda sat up and quickly pulled herself to her feet, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She listened carefully for any sound and slowly wrapped her fingers around the knife that rested in her belt. She drew it, the slight sound of metal scraping against leather slicing harshly through the air. Imelda held it in front of her and waited, every muscle tense, for the next noise.
Her breath was pouring into her lungs in ragged gasps and a cold line of goosebumps ran up her spine. Her pulse jolted loudly against her eardrums and her heart throbbed in her chest. Could they hear it, too?
A man shouted on the other side of the door and the wood bent in, immediately breaking apart into hundreds of slivers that flew across the room. Imelda raised her arm to protect her face and jumped back with a yelp. She watched in horror as a man in a black cloak stepped through the open doorway. The black hood shadowed his face, but she could feel his eyes lock on her and see the shine of his teeth as he pulled back his lips into a smile.
Out of instinct, Imelda held out the knife, making sure it separated her from the intruder, her hands shaking violently. He laughed, his voice harsh and calloused, and raised his right hand in her direction.
“Surmarsi!” he yelled.
Imelda turned toward the bedroom door and was about to make a run for it when she was struck by an invisible force. Her throat constricted and she couldn't breath as the room began to swim around her. Her body was frozen in place. She felt her heart slow its beating and her thoughts start to fog as she began to shut down.
The man lowered his arm and grinned darkly. An ashen hand reached from behind him and grabbed the back of his neck, pushing him forward. He screamed as smoke floated from his cloak as another figure garbed in black glided in. The new intruder pulled the man along for several strides before releasing his neck, dropping him on the floor.
“Idiot,” the figure hissed as she pulled off her hood to reveal her long, silver hair. “You just about killed her. Parmarsi!”
Immediately, air flowed into her lungs and her body started to work again. Imelda struggled to cry out, but she couldn't make a sound. She still had no control over her arms or mouth and her legs were held in place.
“I don't know why we were assigned to fetch this... child,” she said, stepping closer to Imelda. “Though she does strike me as an interesting little mutt.”
The woman laughed and took the blade from Imelda's hand, tossing it beside the crumpled man on the floor. She thrust out her pale arm and grabbed Imelda's face with her hot hand, forcing Imelda's head to move from side to side as the woman examined her. Imelda struggled with all her might to regain control of her body and break through the hex.
“Ah, it looks as though we shall be traveling with an honorary deihher tonight,” she said to her comrade, who was beginning to pull himself off the floor and pick up the discarded knife.
Imelda didn't understand. If anyone looked like a deihher, it was the woman. Her silver hair and purple lining around her black, iris-less eyes seemed to come right out of the horror stories that ran through the town. Except that she wasn't a wolf.
The woman ran her fingers through her captive's hair, causing Imelda's scalp to tingle. She abruptly took her hand and smacked it across Imelda's face.
“Most likely a traitor's offspring. I don't know what he would want with any of that sort, past revenge. But Christopher has always had a way of choosing,” she stared at Imelda with a mixture of distain and hunger. “But if he is wrong, we could always use another Aninoid.”
“You should not refer to your superior in such casual terms,” the man said sharply, glaring at her murderously from beneath his charred hood.
The woman waved her hand dismissively and turned to face her challenger. “To call him otherwise would be to grant him respect, and since he has done little over the past years to impress me, he has earned none.”
Imelda concentrated, focusing all her energy on moving her hand. Her fingers twitched.
“The man who reawakened the art of our magics? The man whose ancestors survived our people's fall?” He growled, stepping in front of the woman and drawing his broad body up to full height.
Imelda slowly broke through her paralysis and reached her arm toward the fire poker on the floor. She hoped that she could knock out the woman with it and recover enough speed to evade the man. She knew that if she were captured again she would be worse off, but she couldn't wait for them to reveal what they were going to do with her.
“He's a coward,” the woman laughed mirthlessly. “The only reason his family survived at all is because they placed themselves before their cause. They should have all died with the failed magic user those centuries back so we could have started over without his leadership.”
Imelda's hand brushed against the metal rod.
“We would not have half the spells we have now if it wasn't for his family's survival.”
She wrapped her hand around it and began to lift it up behind her.
“You are as arrogant as he. I suppose that if he asked of you to-” a loud clattering cut the woman off when the poker fell to the floor.
The two intruders stopped and stared at Imelda. I'm dead, Imelda thought. She waited for them to say the word to freeze her heart again, forcing her body to shut down as she slowly suffocated... But it didn't happen.
“You're a slippery little snake, aren't you?” The woman said with little emotion. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, seeming to think that their captive was no threat. “The average length of the partial immobilization spell on a non-magic user is an hour, fifty-two minutes and twenty seconds.” She opened her dark eyes and stared at Imelda. “While the average duration of the spell on a person of typical magical capabilities is approximately an hour and four minutes.”
“Did you cast the spell properly?” The man demanded.
“Of course I did, but how can this be? We can't have been here for more than twenty minutes.”
Imelda realized that they had forgotten her, for they were too busy arguing, and began quietly edging around them as fast as her stiff legs could move her. They continued to bicker, discussing things that Imelda knew nothing of, as she approached the gap where the front door used to stand. A meaty fist came down on the side of her face and she crumpled halfway through the doorway, dazed and bleeding from her split lip. Splinters dug into her arms and neck and a lump already began forming on her head as sleet rained down on her face.
“You little-”
“Calm yourself. We were sent here to take her back with us in one piece. She's just another worthless child that Christopher has taken an... interest in. But tie her up. I don't want her jumping out of the cart.”
The man stepped away from her to find something to bind her with. Imelda looked outside and noticed that the town was completely quiet. The neighbors hadn't heard the noise before. Imelda coughed up a clot of blood that had gone down her throat and took a raspy breath.
“HELP!” Imelda yelled into the night until the word faded into a frantic scream.
Thin, long fingers pressed down over her mouth, cutting off her cries and causing her lip to bleed all the more. The heat that radiated off the hands was so intense that Imelda was sure that her face was being incinerated. The woman's deep eyes filled Imelda's vision, seeming to steal all the light from the room. Imelda couldn't look away. She felt her body melt into a strange mixture of calm and raw terror.
“You're safe, child,” the woman said softly, holding Imelda's gaze in hers. “We're taking you where you belong. We are going to take care of you.”
She felt her ankles being bound, then her wrists. But that didn't matter. She was going to be taken where she belonged. They were going to take care of her.
She was lifted off the ground and carried the rest of the way out of the house into the freezing rain. A cart pulled by two horses was waiting outside. Waiting for her.
The man placed her limp body on the bundles in the cart before sitting up front to drive the horses. The woman, however, sat next to her in the back, placing a bag of items beside her. Her hood was up again, but Imelda could still see her dark, abysmal eyes whenever they looked down on her.
Imelda lay there, feeling content. There was something wrong and she knew it. Something was wrong with the way the bags below her smelled and felt, but she couldn't concentrate. Somehow, she didn't understand what was going on or remember what was going on.
What am I doing here? Imelda wondered, her thoughts suddenly too confusing and heavy to sort out. It was so much easier to just give up on trying to figure it out...
She turned her head to the side and watched the wheels as they rolled over the paved road, trying to see if she knew where she was. The path was flat and empty until they passed a motionless object. Imelda blinked. When she looked again, her vision cleared slightly and she recognized the shape as human. A woman. Black hair was sprawled around the woman's pale face and her neck was twisted at a grotesque angle. Her eyes were frozen open and glassy, looking into nothing with an expression of utter horror.
“Sarah?” Imelda gasped, staring at the mangled body of her recent guardian.
“Aroco!”
Imelda's head snapped around in time to see flames erupt around her home, quickly spreading to the rooftop and devouring the paneled walls.
“Loriato,” she heard the rasping voice of the woman from beside her.
The fire kept growing, driven by an unknown power, threatening to set the nearby buildings alight. Slowly, the color of the flames changed its color. Soon, it was a deep purple color spreading through the house, destroying everything it held. Everything Imelda had ever known. Imelda gasped, her eyes widening in realization. They were deihher flames.
Something broke inside Imelda, allowing a cold flood of realization to wash over her. These people were kidnapping her. They were destroying her home and endangering everyone she knew with an uncontrollable fire.
They had killed Sarah. They killed Sarah!
“No,” Imelda whispered, her eyes widening.
“No, no, NO!” Imelda screamed, thrashing against her bindings.
She felt the spidery hands of the woman grip her elbow. A wave of horrible sedative energy flowed into Imelda, shocking her and causing her to cry out from its sheer intensity. Imelda struggled against the woman, her bound fists smashing into her face and causing her to fall backward, breaking contact with the girl's skin. Imelda rolled to the side, hitting the side of the carriage and almost falling out.
“Sarah!” Imelda wailed.
Tears were now rolling down Imelda's cheeks, blurring her vision every few moments before she blinked them away as she stared desperately at the body of Sarah. Her heart ached for any sign of life to appear. None did.
“You little wretch.”
A hand gripped Imelda's wrist and she was forced back on top of the bundles. The hand constricted firmly around Imelda's wrist and twisted it to the side, snapping the bone. Fire raced up and down Imelda's arm. Imelda yelped and squirmed against the grasp. The woman was on top of her, pinning Imelda's bound arms with one hand and pinning her body down with the other. Imelda tried to turn away, but the woman pressed down on her stomach harder. She felt a bone snap in her side and whimpered, her face contorted in pain as sweat beaded on her forehead.
Imelda saw the form of the man turn and stand over her, something black in his hands. He raised it up and brought it crashing down on her. It collided with her head, sending a ringing sound into her ears. Something warm splattered across her face and darkness swept over her, swiftly taking her away from consciousness.
* * *
The smell of earth was heavy in Imelda's nose. There was rough cloth rubbing against her face and felt something heavy weighing down on her. Imelda attempted to open her eyes, but found that she couldn't see. Her head throbbed painfully as did her wrist and midsection. She groaned and shook her head slightly, trying to sort through her muddled thoughts.
Imelda heard the sound of footsteps from nearby and tried to call out only to receive a shooting pain in her ribs when she tried to inhale deeply. She knew that she was still in the cart, but she didn't feel it moving.
“What do you suppose they were doing all that for?” Imelda heard a voice ask. It was obviously male, but didn't belong to the cloaked man.
“I don't know. Judging by how quickly they ran off, I'm guessing nothing big,” said another male voice. “Those people just seem to have a taste for destruction.”
“Aye. We only just managed to put out the fire back there before it could spread to the other houses. We're lucky we came here when we did or there could have been a whole town full of groundies killed.”
Imelda heard the men approach the cart and felt one of the bags being pulled off her legs.
“It looks like they've been digging up graves again,” one of the men said mournfully.
Grave digging?! Imelda's pulse quickened.
“Planning on making more Aninoids, no doubt.”
The smell of dirt was suddenly unbearable. She could feel the sharp edges of the bundles' contents. The skeletons that were on top of her...
“Uh-oh. Looks like they got someone.”
Imelda felt the weight of the bags graciously being lifted off her body and winced at the sound of clattering bone when they were dropped to the ground. Finally, the last bundle was pulled away from her face. Imelda squinted her eyes, the sudden light too intense. One of the men was holding a lamp over her. She couldn't make out their faces through the black spots that dotted her vision.
“Oh my-” the man with the lamp reached out toward Imelda, who shrank back with a whimper. “She's still alive!”
The other man pushed past him and stood over Imelda. His face was tan and weather-beaten, his dark hair streaked with silver. He looked down at Imelda, his eyes filled with a warm concern that caused her chest to tighten. He was about her father's age.
“Sarah,” Imelda choked, her voice dry and barely audible. The tears came again, no less painfully than before.
“Shh...” the man whispered, placing a hand to Imelda's cheek and wiping away the moisture. “Don't worry, you're safe now.”
Imelda's eyes widened. The man brushed Imelda's hair behind her ear, placing a finger lightly on her left temple. Before she could attempt to break away, she felt something like a small spark pass between his fingertip and her skin. The last thing she saw was the man's gray eyes staring down at her.
He was a sorcerer, too.
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Yes, this does need help
Thanks for reading!!
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