BOUND (#1 in The Crystor Series) Page 7

Chapter Six

  Octavion was right about the paralysis. It only took a few minutes for Kira to regain the full movement of her limbs and push to a sitting position. Covering the ground beneath her was a large animal skin she guessed to be bear. She ran her fingers through the long, dark fur, finding comfort in the way the warmth of the fire soaked to its depths and took away the chill. She rubbed her eyes, then gathered her hair to one side and swept her fingers through several strands, littering her jeans with the tiny pieces of leaves and pine needles that had caught in her tangled hair.

  The slight evening breeze shifted, sending a puff of smoke into her face. She pulled the neck of her T-shirt over her nose, then let the fabric fall away when the air cleared. She blinked hard to keep the remaining haze from burning her eyes. Unfortunately, it did nothing to snuff out the questions that smoldered inside her head.

  How could she have known Lydia for two years and not known about her family? Not only did Lydia have a brother with the temperament of a pit bull, but a sister who obviously meant to do her harm. And then there was her face, the change in her voice, and her strength. No wonder she could climb that stupid rope.

  As the questions continued to plague her, a log shifted in the fire pit, sending sparks in her direction. She jumped to her feet, shook out her hair, and brushed her hands down the front of her clothes to make sure stray embers hadn’t burrowed through to singe her skin. Her sudden movement triggered something in the trees to stir as well.

  Kira stepped to the other side of the fire, leaving the flames between her and whatever had made the noise. Reaching down, she took a large branch in her hand to use as a weapon. Nothing came. Instead, there was silence and an uneasy feeling she was being watched.

  She looked over her shoulder in the direction Octavion had gone and seriously considered following, but the uncertainty of what she would find kept her feet in place—at least for the moment. She changed her mind when she heard Lydia’s eerie scream. It sounded as though she yelled into a wooden barrel or bucket—a chilling cry that sent Kira searching for the source. By the time she reached the edge of the clearing, she’d dismissed any thoughts of who or what may be watching her.

  Another muffled scream drew her deeper into the forest, squinting to find her way. She hadn’t gone far when she came to a large outcropping of boulders jutting from the side of the mountain. She ran her hand along its smooth surface as she made her way around the formation—each jagged crevice marking her progress like notches carved into a stick. Her pulse quickened with each step.

  And then she heard it. A low rumbling growl came from behind her. She turned, pressing her back against the solid stone wall.

  Another growl. She tightened her grip around her primitive weapon, grateful she hadn’t left the hefty branch by the fire.

  Ten feet in front of her, a white Bengal tiger strode out of the forest—its long fur shone bright white against the black night. The beast let out a ferocious roar, bearing a giant maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Kira tried to scream, but fear seized her throat, letting only a high-pitched squeal escape.

  The wild cat stepped closer as another long, deep growl vibrated through the ground and into Kira’s chest. Its piercing blue eyes locked on hers. Another step brought it within arms’ reach. Gripping her branch with both hands, she held it between her and the beast. The tiger reacted by jerking its head to the side and letting out another roar. Her branch gave it no fear; only increased its anger. She lowered the useless chunk of wood, but she couldn’t make herself drop it and to admit defeat so easily.

  One more step and Kira felt the warmth of the tiger’s breath on her face. When the giant cat peeled back its upper lip in a snarl, she leaned her head against the rock and turned away. She knew it sensed her fear, but she couldn’t run. She couldn’t move. All she could do was pray she’d pass out before its powerful jaws ripped her in two.

  “Down, Toran!” Octavion commanded as he came into view. Kira brought her weapon back up for protection—this time from Octavion.

  Toran gave her a look she could only translate as a warning before he casually rambled toward the sound of Lydia’s pain-filled moans.

  Now safe from the tiger, Kira feared Octavion’s wrath. She moved away from the rocks and took a swing at him with her branch. “Get away from me,” she yelled, still trying to steady her trembling hands.

  “You said you would stay by the fire. Toran should have kept you there.”

  “Kept me there? That monster is your pet?”

  “Toran is no monster and he is certainly not my pet.” He took one leap, grabbed her stick, and tossed it against a rock—splintering it into kindling. Kira cowered to the ground and pushed her back against the boulders, drawing her knees under her chin. She was no match for his temper. She knew that all too well.

  Octavion paced in front of her. The constant slap of his boots on the dirt sent little puffs of dust into the air until she felt the grit of it on her lips. She brushed it away with the back of her hand. Her heart had just begun regaining its normal rhythm when Octavion let out a thunderous roar—striking the boulder at her side with so much force it sent bits of dirt and gravel raining down.

  Kira screamed.

  Fearing she would be next, she threw her arms over her head. When the blow didn’t come and the forest grew silent, she opened her eyes to find Octavion crouched in front of her.

  “Forgive me.” His deep blue eyes fixed on hers. “My concern for my sister has tarnished my . . . behavior. I would never hurt you, Kira. I am angry at myself, not you.”

  Kira had barely held her emotions together until that moment, but his sudden kindness lowered her restraint and she couldn’t hold them back anymore. Her eyes burned as tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Octavion’s expression softened. He leaned closer, softly brushing the moisture from her face with the back of his hand.

  “I heard her . . . screaming.” Kira stifled a sob.

  As if on cue, Lydia’s painful whimper gripped Kira’s heart. She tried to stand, but Octavion pressed a hand to her shoulder, guiding her back to the ground.

  “Not yet,” he said. “We need to talk first.”

  “Talk? She needs a doctor. Why can’t you see that? You have to help—“

  “There are things you do not understand.” He cut her off.

  “You’re right, there is. Like, who were those guys, and why didn’t you come to our rescue? Didn’t you hear Lydia scream?”

  “No, I was too far away.”

  “That’s not true. You showed up not two minutes after it happened.” Kira flipped her long auburn hair behind her shoulder. “It’s your fault Lydia was injured and it will be your fault when she dies if you don’t take her to the hospital.”

  “Perhaps you are right about this being my fault, but you must trust my decision to keep her here—to tend to her wounds in my own way.”

  “Trust you? I don’t even know you and from what I’ve seen, you’re an ani. . .”

  His sudden scowl stopped Kira’s words. “Animal?” he asked, finishing her sentence. The muscles in his jaw tightened as his fingers clenched into fists.

  “Look, I didn’t mean it like that . . . it’s just . . . she needs help.”

  Octavion stood and took a step back. “Do you think I would let her suffer intentionally? She is my sister and I have taken an oath to protect her at all costs. I have tried all I know to lessen her pain, but it is not enough.”

  “What do you mean . . . not enough?”

  “Come with me.” He extended his hand to help her stand.

  Kira tucked her fingers into her palms and buried them in her jacket pockets. No way was she going with him. And there was no way in hell she’d trust him. But then there was something in his eyes that caught her attention—a flicker of truth and sincerity. She thought for a moment about what Lydia would want her to do. He was Lydia’s brother, after all. And Lydia obviously trusted him.

  “Please, Ki
ra. I will not hurt you.”

  Kira hesitated for a few more seconds before pulling her hand out of her pocket. As she laid her hand in his, she was finally able to grasp the enormous difference of its size compared to hers. Even though he was gentle, she still felt the strength of his fingers as he helped her from the ground and pressed his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the fire. Another series of moans coming from behind them caused Kira to stop and look over her shoulder.

  “I want to see Lydia,” she said.

  The pressure he placed on her back increased, urging her to continue in the direction of the clearing and away from Lydia. She pulled her hand free and stepped off to one side.

  “I said I want to see Lydia.” They’d gone far enough that the glow of the fire was more prominent, silhouetting the trees and causing a faint spark to highlight Octavion’s eyes. She gazed into them, trying to read his intentions like she’d done with a thousand other eyes, but all she saw this time was her own reflection.

  “She is not the Lydia you know,” he said. “There are many things about us you will not understand and I need to explain them first.”

  “She’s my friend. I don’t care about the rest. Just let me see her—maybe there’s something I can do to help. Please,” Kira added for good measure. Then she stepped closer and did something that took all her courage. She placed her hand back in his. She wanted to show him that she trusted him, even if she still wasn’t sure herself. “I need to see her.”

  His focus shifted to the simple embrace of her hand, then back to her eyes. He gently tightened his fingers around her palm and sighed in surrender. “Then I shall allow it.” He turned back the way they’d come and led Kira deeper into the forest and around the massive boulders.

  As Kira’s eyes adjusted to the increased darkness, a sliver of light appeared. Its subtle glow seeped through a large crevice in the rocks and created an eerie streak across the earthen floor. Octavion dropped her hand and motioned for her to follow him through an opening in the boulder barely large enough for one person. They’d only taken a few steps when the mountainside opened into a large cave. Most of it was lost in the darkness, but a few candles burned off to one side, lighting an area where Lydia lay next to the white tiger, whose eyes followed Kira’s every move.

  Octavion nodded for her to go closer. “Toran will not hurt you. He is gentle—like a house cat.”

  Yeah, right, Kira thought while visualizing the oversized house cat eating a mouse—which was exactly what she felt like. Toran lay between Lydia and the wall of the cave, so Kira took the other side, and knelt next to her.

  Lydia lay on a pile of animal pelts. A thick, wool blanket drawn up under her arms revealed the top of an unusual looking white blouse, her sparkling ruby necklace barely visible between the unlaced pieces of fabric. Her hair lay askew around her head on an embroidered pillowcase like waves of honey being poured out of a bottle. But her face was far from healthy, taking on a ghost-like pallor that bordered on death.

  “Lydia,” Kira whispered, taking her hand.

  Lydia moaned, then opened her eyes just enough to reveal their dull gleam. Even the glow of the candles gave them no life. But then she looked at Kira and the corners of her mouth twitched in to a brief smile.

  Kira leaned closer and made a frail attempt to smile back. “Hey, you.”

  Lydia swallowed hard and licked her dry lips. She opened her mouth as if trying to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, she pressed her hand against her side and cried out. Toran adjusted his position and laid his head across her thighs, which seemed to calm her a bit.

  “What’s he doing?” Kira asked.

  Octavion circled around to the other side and knelt next to Toran, burying his left hand in the tiger’s fur. “Toran has a gift. He can take pain, actually feel it for her. He is making it easier.”

  “Take her pain?” The hairs on the back of Kira’s neck pricked her skin. For the first time in her life, she didn’t think she was the craziest person in the room—or cave. There had to be a logical explanation. But before she could ask, Lydia’s eyes fluttered open and she began to move around.

  “Octavion,” Lydia whispered. “Don’t . . . do this.”

  A small wooden crate sat near Lydia’s head where three flat rocks served as a pedestal for a metal washbasin. In the middle, just an inch or so under the basin, sat a single candle, the flame warming the water. Octavion rung the excess liquid from a cloth and washed the beads of sweat from Lydia’s forehead.

  “Be still,” he said, his voice soft and comforting.

  “Please,” she said. Her request was barely audible, but the intensity of her emotion tugged at Kira’s heart. Lydia grabbed Octavion’s hand, pulling it away from her face. “Promise.”

  Octavion’s brow furrowed as if he were the one in pain. “I made a vow to protect you. You cannot ask me to go against that.” He pried her fingers loose from his hand and lay them at her side.

  “What’s she talking about?”

  Octavion didn’t answer at first. He watched as his sister closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. With his voice full of emotion, he whispered, “She is dying.” He dabbed the moisture from Lydia’s face and neck. “Her body is already beginning to warm with fever, and with the swelling in her abdomen . . . I believe she is bleeding within. Even if I had the power to heal the flesh wound, it would do nothing for that which will take her life.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “She knows this and has asked me to take you home, to help you forget.”

  “What do you mean, help me forget? I’m not going anywhere. We have to do something. If we take her to the hospital, they can stop the bleeding and fix it. You can’t just let her suffer like this.” She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. “If you think I’m just gonna sit here and let her die, you’re out of your freakin’ mind.”

  Octavion jerked his arm out of her grasp. “You do not understand. We are of royal blood, and it is different than yours. There would be questions. I cannot risk putting us in more danger.”

  “Danger? How much more danger can she be in? You just said she’s gonna die. To hell with your stupid blood! If you’re not willing to go for help, I am.”

  He tossed the cloth into the washbasin, making the water splash over the edge, dousing one of the candles and spilling wax on the box. “There are things you do not know about us.” He stood and paced the cavernous room. “We have enemies who seek our lives. If word of her injury has trickled back to them, they will be watching the hospitals. I have not yet questioned the men who did this, nor found out what information they have. Until then, we must be cautious.”

  “You mean they’re still out there? I thought you took care of them.”

  “I merely bound them. My priority is with my sister. I will deal with them later.”

  “You mean kill them.” The second the words escaped her mouth, Kira finally realized the magnitude of the situation she was in. Was he capable of killing someone? Could he kill her?

  “No!” he shouted. He stopped pacing just long enough to let out a huff of air, then continued pounding his feet onto the dirt. “I do not have time to explain this. She will stay here, and we will not speak of this again.”

  Kira didn’t bother to answer. She glared at Octavion, then turned her full attention to Lydia by pulling the blanket back to examine the wound for herself. The piece of cloth that covered it held pieces of crushed herbs and stains from a yellow liquid—an herbal poultice, Octavion explained between his constant mumbling, most of which she couldn’t make out.

  The poultice stopped the bleeding, but the gash was deep and a larger area just below it was distended, further proof of her internal bleeding. She replaced the poultice and turned to Octavion again.

  “We have to get help.”

  “I agree, but there is only one way I know and she has forbidden it. She has told me she would rather die.” He reached into the leather pouch fastened to his belt an
d pulled out a small vial and two white stones, holding them up for Kira to see. “I will use these on your attackers to erase their memories. She wants me to do the same to you, to erase every memory of her. It will be as if you never met.”

  Kira instinctively brought the fingertips of her left hand to her temple. Was she dreaming? Was any of this real? “How is that possible?”

  “I told you, there are things you do not understand about us. Things you will not think possible.”

  “That’s what she asked you to promise?” No way was she letting him touch her with those things. Her memory was hers to keep, not his to take away. Not even Lydia had that right.

  Lydia’s painful moan interrupted them.

  Octavion went to her side, pulled the blanket up under her chin, then brushed a tear from her face. “If I do as she wishes, she will surely die.”

  “Octavion . . . please . . . take her home.” Lydia thrashed about, then grabbed her side. Her facial features suddenly changed to those of the girl Kira saw earlier, then back to Lydia’s. In the middle of the transformation, Lydia let out another blood-curdling scream, then collapsed against the pillow and blacked out.

  Kira stood and stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. This was not her imagination. She was sure this time. “What’s happening to her?” The sudden movement from standing so quickly made her head spin and the blood to rush from her face. She tried to steady herself, but found nothing to grab. How did I get here?

  Octavion jumped to his feet and caught her by the arm just as her knees buckled. He guided her to a small wooden bench on the other side of the cave. “Do not be frightened. Lydia is fighting with her kindred spirit and it can be painful.”

  Kira pinched the bridge of her nose. “What? What do you mean ‘kindred spirit’?”

  A look of frustration crossed his face as if he’d said more than he intended. “It is not my place to say.” He retrieved one of the candles near Lydia to ignite three more on a table beside them. The light illuminated more of the cave, revealing a set of large shelves. On one side were old books and papers, all dusty, with tattered edges. A collection of tiny colored bottles and wooden boxes were neatly arranged on the others. These shelves were well kempt as was the table in front of them, where several ingredients lay next to a small stack of clean linens—makings for Lydia’s poultice, Kira guessed.

  “What are those?” she asked, pointing to the colorful display.

  “I am an alchemist.”

  “A what?”

  Octavion growled. “An alchemist.” He drew the syllables out as if he were pronouncing it to a two year old. Clearly frustrated by her naivety, he turned away and continued with his explanation as he sorted through a few of the bottles. “I have many gifts afforded me by my heritage, one of which allows me the skill of knowing the healing qualities of many plants, herbs, and metals. I have studied with the masters in my homeland and read many books. Some of these containers are filled with very powerful tinctures and remedies, while others are dangerous poisons.”

  Kira glanced over at Lydia’s frail body. Dark circles had formed under her eyes and her breathing seemed labored. “So, one of these can cure her, then?”

  “No. It will take more than that.” Octavion took a small box from one of the shelves. Inside was a black satin bag. He carefully loosened the string at one end and poured something into the palm of his hand.

  “This is a healing charm,” he said, opening his hand for Kira to see.

  She blinked hard and leaned closer. He’d already placed his hand inches from her face, so now she was practically nose to palm. His hand was empty. She straightened and gave an over-exaggerated sigh. “There’s nothing there.”

  His eyes shifted to his palm before refocusing on her face. He looked at her curiously. “You cannot see it?”

  “See what?”

  His brow creased with frustration as he took her hand and pressed her fingertips to the center of his palm. When he let go, she kept her fingers there, rubbing them across what felt like a tiny metal snake coiled in his hand. It was icy to the touch. She pulled her hand back.

  “But how can that be?” she asked. “Why can’t I see it?”

  “I am not certain. Let me try something.” He drew his fingers through a small section of her hair, letting it all fall away except for a single strand. The brush of his skin against her face made her shudder.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He plucked the hair from her scalp, then picked up the invisible healing charm and twisted her hair around it. At first, she saw nothing, but when he held it in the candlelight, it slowly came into view. It looked like a silver bracelet, but when Kira looked closer she realized it had no clasp. Instead the ends were frayed like the end of a rope. The chain wasn’t really a chain, either—it was more like a solid stream of liquid silver—and the strand of her hair had disappeared. He laid the bracelet back in his palm and held it out again. It seemed to move on its own, settling into the creases of his hand.

  She wanted to touch it, but seeing it move like that made her think her imagination had taken over again. She quickly drew back when he brought it closer to her face.

  “It will not hurt you,” Octavion said.

  Kira took a deep breath and pinched the silver material between two fingers. This time it warmed to her touch.

  “It’s beautiful, but how does it work?” she asked, letting it fall back into his hand.

  “My mother was a visionary and a healer. When she died, my father kept a lock of her hair. This bracelet was made from several of those strands, along with one of my sister’s. It was meant to serve as a divining tool to locate Lydia if she got in trouble, but we later found it had healing qualities. It must be worn by someone not of royal blood—a commoner.” He motioned toward Kira.

  Again with the stupid blood. “You mean me, don’t you?”

  “That was my hope.”

  “But that still doesn’t tell me how it works or how something like this even exists. Where did you get it? Who was your mother, and why do you keep talking about your blood?”

  “Octavion,” Lydia’s frail voice barely carried across the small space. She’d been stirring slightly, and now her eyes opened to thin slits. She blinked hard, as if trying to focus. Octavion laid the healing charm on the black bag and went to her side. He adjusted her blanket and stroked the side of her face, trying to comfort her.

  “I won’t lose . . . another . . . friend,” she managed between each breath.

  “Tell me what else to do, Lydia. I cannot watch you die like this. I cannot face our father and tell him I failed to keep you safe.”

  “Please. I would . . . rather die than—”

  “You don’t mean that.” He sat back on his heels and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “I don’t understand,” Kira said. “If this charm will somehow save her life, and it will work on me, why won’t she let me help?”

  “This is not the first time my sister has been severely injured . . . and you are not the first friend asked to be the Crystor’s keeper.”

  Kira glanced over to the tiny strand of silver, now lying motionless. The Crystor. She had so many questions, so many doubts about everything she’d seen and heard, but all she could think about was getting help for Lydia. “What happened to her other friend?” A lump swelled in her throat as she waited for him to answer, but deep inside, she already knew.

  “It happened before we came here. Serena . . .” He paused and looked away for a moment. “When she healed Lydia . . . her life ended.”