57. Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter 57
T he plan had sounded so much better in Rieka’s head.
She stumbled as she tried to regain her balance. Dirt and small rocks tumbled from the high ceiling, casting the entire cavern in a hazy glow. She blinked. Her eyes watered. On this side of the cavern, the stench of rotting flesh and fresh meat was overwhelming. But that wasn’t her biggest problem.
Even with the distance between them, Dante’s gaze burned into her. Furious was an understatement. She snorted; he could thank her later after she saved them. On the bright side, she had succeeded in getting the attention of all the wayfarers, and everyone else. Chaucer better keep his promise, or she was going to haunt his butt for the rest of his short life.
Rieka tapped her foot as she took in the gap between her and the others. It wasn’t as wide as she had thought. Or hoped. Barely one hundred feet separated them. The rushing sound of water was not comforting. “I’m waiting.”
Idris had used pain to call on the Anki. But she didn’t need pain to establish a link. The bracelet was as good as a two-way communicator. Focusing inwards, she pulled at the emotions she had spent a lifetime pushing down. The familiar tendrils of the Anki wrapped around her mind as she let them in, forcing them into the labyrinth she had hastily created for them. She flamed the fire within her, letting its wildness course through her veins as she let herself go. Rieka swayed as memories slammed into her, gritting her teeth against the bombardment. She almost stumbled under the onslaught.
No.
It was her mind; she was judge, juror, and destroyer.
She allowed the memories to filter through; faces and places that hadn’t existed in thousands of years merged into one. She didn’t know what belonged to her, Vandana, or the Anki.
Transported to another world, Rieka stood in front of a large ornate mirror. She stared into it, but it wasn’t her face gazing back but a woman who had the same-colored eyes.
Two black serpopards sat by her feet, guarding her, their necks intertwined. Violet flames danced from her fingertips. Bright purples, reds, and muted pinks.
Vandana smiled. “Child of my child.”
Rieka blinked and Vandana was gone. Instead she was surrounded by wayfarers half-frozen in place, their whispered voices growing louder in reverence.
Rieka tasted ash. Violet flames danced along her skin, the outer layer red–gold as the flame continued to grow.
Vandana’s flame.
No. It was her flame.
Pleasure and pain like she had never felt before flowed through her, followed by the sweet roar of power coursing through her veins. Freeing her. Everything was hypersensitive. She could hear hundreds of heartbeats and smell thousands of different scents. Voices cascaded into one until she couldn’t distinguish them from each other as screams echoed through the cavern. Some were crying in pain, but others were whispering words of encouragement, urging her onwards. Their dark musings tempted her as they touched parts of her she hadn’t known existed.
She flexed her hand, the violet flame moving toward the nearest wayfarer, directly across from her. His pale clothes were coated in sweat, blood and dirt. He stumbled as perspiration fell down his face and soaked his clothes. He began to shrivel, his skin petrifying as the water was sucked out of his body. He writhed and moaned, and a pitiful wail escaped his mouth. Rieka closed her hand. The petrified body fell to the floor in a lump. Those who hadn’t been scorched by the flame scattered across the cavern, their screams of horror echoing as they attempted to run from the feeding serpopards. And her flame.
It could all be hers.
Wildfire. Daughter. Rieka.
The voices were getting louder. “Stop.”
That wasn’t what she wanted. The flame flickered, losing intensity as she tried to wrestle control over her mind. The voices were at a fever pitch. Vandana’s, the Anki, the O’hurani, and Dante’s.
A coarse tongue flicked her cheek. Rieka froze as a serpopard curled itself protectively around her. She recognized the dark fur and pale markings. In the light, she realized it was far bigger than the others. It lowered its head until they were eye level. Its sharp canines dripped with black blood; its red eyes studied her. And then it started to purr. The sound vibrated through her. She. The serpopard was the elusive matriarch of the herd.
The serpopard submissively kneeled, lowering its head in a bow. The submission lasted three seconds before she raised herself to her hind legs and roared.
The other serpopards joined their voices to the primitive roar, as they all lowered their heads in subjugation.
Rieka didn’t move.
For a moment, the silence was deafening. Until the serpopards began a feeding frenzy. Human and Atlantean screams drowned out the sound of the serpopards tearing clothing, flesh, and bone.
She closed her eyes, willing the flame to return. Nothing.
A hand grabbed her, dragging her back into a hard chest.
“We need to move now,” Dante whispered. “The immortals will deal with the survivors.”
Melting into the embrace, her hand clasped Dante’s. Their fingers entwined. “I’m not going to argue.”
The serpopard stood still. She half-turned her head, her long neck coming to rest on her back as she blinked at them. Her snakelike tongue licked the air before she returned to the feeding frenzy.
“On three,” Dante ordered. “You run back the way you came from, and you don’t stop. The immortals will lead the way out.”
“Not without you.” Rieka glanced behind Dante.
A dark silhouette was outlined against the cliff, the unmistakable shape of a chakram and a hint of auburn hair. The immortals. Freedom. Rieka tightened her grip on Dante, refusing to let go until she got the response she needed.
They may have survived the battle, but the war had barely begun.
“Always, Wildfire,” Dante whispered back.