Risen (The Firebird Trilogy Book 2) Read online

Follow me, Lynk said, his dangerous voice ringing in my head like my own thoughts, and Ruby, just remember if you don’t follow us; they –he nodded outside to the warriors- will kill you.

  Briseis looked up at the ceiling, now a beautiful dark predator: You rigged the rafters.

  Lynk didn’t need to answer, instead his lips twisted very slightly at the corner of his mouth. He reached into his pocket, withdrawing what looked like a small square remote control. His thumb lingered over a certain button for a moment; then pushed it. In an instant an almighty eruption sent me catapulting into the air like I’d just been launched through a huge slingshot. Air rushed up underneath me, forcing me upwards and outwards through the cracked wooden roof.

  The sound was deafening as shards and splinters showered around me. There was a shrill ringing in my ears that blocked out any other noise. In that rush of air and fire things hit me, stapling my flesh as I attempted to keep my balance and fly out of the wreckage.

  Regrettably not every warrior was injured and those unscathed quickly followed me in hot pursuit as I became free of the explosion.

  My wings moved frantically; my curved black beak jutting skywards. As I spotted Lynk I followed him instantly. There was no way I could have left Lynk, Briseis and Zac; if I tried the guards would certainly capture me.

  I was terrified. This was terrifying. I couldn’t believe Lynk had gotten me into this situation. I hated him. And I hated Briseis.

  I darted through the air, swooping quickly as I flew; panicking.

  Suddenly Lynk made a sharp left, rounding a tall palace-like building carved from shimmering alabaster. I followed him with Zac behind me and Briseis beside me; my heart pounding vigorously. Hundreds of Firebirds followed us now as we darted between Grecian-looking stone pillars. There seemed no way out. We were doomed.

  We were low to the ground now, flying through bonfire-lit streets. Earlier Ephizon had seemed quiet and restful but now everything seemed on fire. Maybe it was just my rising panic, but there seemed to be Phoenix lurking in every dark corner. Arrows, throwing knives and spears shot at us from the ground; narrowly avoiding me.

  I could feel someone clawing at my legs. Fear and pain lanced over my body and I turned a different direction to the others in my panic. The instant I rebelled a fraction off course, Zac dived after me, but it was too late as I was already being chased separately. My wings were tiring but I forced myself faster, sweat matting my feathers in a sticky mess. I had never flown so hard and I knew I was slowing. I could see the desert in the distance and raced towards it; there were at least thirty birds behind me, catching up quickly.

  I was alone.

  My brace weighed me down. It was this extra weight that stopped me from darting out of the way fast enough when another spear spun towards me. I was just on the outskirts of Ephizon, flying over the southern wall that encased the city, when the armed sentry threw the deadly spear.

  It struck my left wing and I screeched in agony.

  My eyes rolled back into my head, my mind disconnecting from my body as shock overwhelmed me. There wasn’t pain; just numbness. My brain spun relentlessly in my skull, making it impossible to concentrate. I was aware that I was falling but I couldn’t stop myself. I knew I was going to crash into the sand but I couldn’t help it. I closed my eyes.

  It was then that the numbness shattered and the shock dissolved into agony. The landing was rough and knocked the wind out of me. Eventually I managed to turn my head, spitting sand and glimpsing the stars above. They spun in a relentless cycle, flickering like a broken bulb.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Zac disappearing into the distance. He was chased by many warriors, some of whom were previously chasing me.

  I closed my eyes and collapsed into the sand again. The pain was like a wave crashing over my body; drowning me. I was vaguely aware that there were men surrounding me but I couldn’t move let alone escape. Several men carelessly yanked at my wings, one cutting the shaft of the spear that impaled me so they could pry the brace off my bleeding flesh. I surrendered voluntarily and silently, praying they wouldn’t kill me without a trial first.

  I could hear them speaking, some barking orders, some following them. I ignored the sounds until someone mentioned me.

  “What shall we do with the girl?” said a gruff voice.

  “Take her to the Burning Spot and pin her wings down so she can’t escape,” someone answered, then considered. “Not that I expect she’ll be flying off anytime soon. We’ll let the Council decide her fate.”

  “We will take her, my Lord,” someone volunteered.

  “Very well,” the first man dismissed.

  The next thing I felt were finger’s gripping my legs, carefully avoiding my talons. Too exhausted to fight and in too much pain to protest I let them haul my weakened body over the sand. My wing throbbed; it hung from my side like a piece of meat in a butchers shop. I couldn’t move. I closed my eyes.

  As I was dragged along for several minutes a horrible smell began wafting towards me. As we continued the smell grew more pungent and I had to breathe out of my mouth. The stench of rancid rotting meat poisoned the air. I wondered idly if we were near a sewer.

  A couple of seconds after I was stopped I felt a sharp stab in my right wing as a heavy weight was unexpectedly dropped onto it. I struggled with renewed fear, screeching in agony for the first time. I looked towards the source of this pain; seeing a giant rock trapping my wing. A man stood over me, carrying another large rock, presumably to pin down my other wing.

  I tried to struggle free but my efforts were in vain.

  “Wait,” another warrior said to the man carrying the rock. “I don’t think that’s necessary; her left wing is already broken. Just leave her like that.”

  The man nodded and dropped the rock on the sand beside me.

  It was only then that I realised what surrounded me, and where that horrific smell had formulated from. Beside me were bodies, some human and some Phoenix, some with wings and some without. That smell had been the rotting flesh of the people left here; many pinned down with large rocks like me. My mind was instantly reminded of the Wall in Forenna, but at least the bodies of those people had been partly preserved by the bitter mountain air. These had been blackened by the blazing sun and torn apart by desert beasts.

  “How long do you think we’ll be here for?” asked the man who had picked up the first rock.

  I looked towards the pair and something seemed wrong.

  The other man, who was older with stronger, sterner facial features, had slowly crept up behind the first man. His face was apathetic and his footsteps surreptitious as he came within a metre of the other man. The first man turned suddenly, as if sensing him, but it was too late.

  The second man carried a rock. This rock was black like the one that pinned me, but it was also pointed at one end. It was this end that made a loud crack as it contacted with the first man’s skull.

  As I stared in horrified confusion the first man collapsed, dead or unconscious I wasn’t certain, and the second man dropped the rock again; now covered in a thin layer of bloody skin.

  He shook his head. “For you?” he wondered to the first man. “I reckon not for very long.” Then he turned to me and smiled a toothy smile.

  “Hello my dear,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  Chapter Three

  I stared at him, unfocused, my vision blurring as my head swam from the pain of my broken wing. I wanted to speak, to demand who this man was, if he was with Lynk or if he was on my side, but I could barely breathe let alone talk. He came over to me and hauled the jagged black rock from off my right wing. Then he looked at me.

  I couldn’t really concentrate on what he was saying, but later on, when I’d recovered slightly, I remembered him saying he was one of Lynk’s alliances. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not at the time but at one point I think he disappeared, telling me to wait while he went to get help.

  I think I fell asleep, just
lying on that sand. Or perhaps it wasn’t sleep I’d fallen into; rather unconsciousness. When I awoke it was still night and the pain in my left wing seemed to be worsening.

  I stared up at the stars. In England I couldn’t properly appreciate the night’s sky due to the pollution; but here, it was a whole new world.

  The moon hung like a luminous pearl earring in the ear of Nyx, Goddess of night, as she danced across the horizon. Billions of stars sparkled incandescently, like sequins sewn into the folds of her black, velvety dress. Like flowers clutched in her shadowy hands the stars opened further, shining brighter, as time passed. The vast expanse of sky teemed with unexpected life.

  The air was cold in the desert, but it numbed the pain of my wing slightly so I was grateful. The hours dragged by and a chilling wind suddenly awoke, whipping up the stinging sand as it scurried over the distant dunes.

  I attempted to shut off to it all and just lie there.

  The sky gradually lightened as dawn broke. Sunlight glittered on the horizon, eventually stretching out to shuffle the Night Goddess away. Heat developed in the air, sticky and humid in mere minutes.

  I closed my eyes and when they opened again it was midmorning. Nobody had come for me yet; I was alone except for the rotting corpses that surrounded me, poisoning the air with their thick scent of decay.

  It might have been the sweltering heat or the burning sun that awoke me, but I knew for a fact that it wasn’t. My wing was incredibly painful, much worse than it had been earlier. I felt hot but I was shivering as if I was caught in an arctic blizzard. Sweat thickly coated every plane of my body. I felt feverish, dizzy and my head throbbed.

  What was wrong with me? I wondered dazedly, looking across my wing. I knew I couldn’t Change. The spear was still there; pointing crookedly from my flesh. My throat was dry and the sun burnt my face. I felt like I was suffocating in the heat but I couldn’t move. Still, nobody came.

  I passed out a couple of hours later and when I awoke I kept imagining things. At least I hoped I was just imagining them in feverish hysteria. The dreams frequently featured me being dragged across the desert on a rug-like mat. The things that dragged me were deformed and frightening, though I could never truly comprehend what they were supposed to be.

  Things began to grow worse and soon I couldn’t distinguish the difference between when I was awake and when I was dreaming. I was vaguely aware that I wasn’t lying with those bodies anymore, but nothing made sense and I think I was moving.

  I kept waking up; pain lancing up my side. And in the brief moments that I felt sane, I glanced around and saw trees and mountains.

  Time wasn’t passing normally. It all just merged together in one giant rollercoaster ride. One minute I was up, not comprehending anything and experiencing weird fantasies in my head, and the next I was down, surrounded by petrifying monsters and convulsing vigorously.

  “It’s the infection. The fever’s making her delusional.” I thought I heard somebody say once, the voice was rough and aggressive, “but who is this Kieran she keeps screaming for?”

  Was I really saying his name out loud?

  Then my fever overwhelmed my senses and I slept for a long time.

  It was the smell that first got to me.

  The thick stench of musty rock and stale water entered my nostrils. It made me want to retch, but to be honest I was that far gone I wouldn’t have noticed if I had anyway. The scent reminded me of when I’d once gone on a school trip to a local conserved cave; it was the same damp, murky air.

  Voices echoed around me. They seemed peculiar; like they were talking in a dream. I listened, but found my concentration wavering as I began to hear the drip drop of liquid. It was a meditative sound, constant and countable.

  “Take her to the healer,” someone ordered; I vaguely recognised the voice, though I didn’t remember where from. “I need her healthy.”

  I think I drifted off into another dream because when I woke reality was a shock. The pain dulled. I could bring myself to open my eyes. My vision was unfocused but I managed to make out that I was in some sort of infirmary. Several hospital beds were lined up against an uneven wall made of natural, untouched rock.

  A man sat before me. I couldn’t make out his features properly but I gathered that he was a Firebird. This panicked me. Did the Firebirds of Ephizon catch up with us? But then I saw that his palms were covered in blackish tattoos and I realised all too suddenly what he was; a healer.

  I thrashed about hysterically. Despite my confusion I knew one thing for certain. Only one person in the world had the authority –and my permission- to heal me and this man was definitely not him. I wrenched away from him. A blast of pain abruptly shot through my wing. Strong, unyielding hands were holding me down, restraining me. I screeched. My body was shaking, bile rose in my throat and I violently threw up stomach acid.

  No! I screamed as loud as I could manage, trying to rip free; but a nauseating sickness washed over me and I coughed and choked.

  Wetness gushed over my injury -whether it was my blood or water I wasn’t certain- and I could feel cloth dabbing at it.

  Momentarily my blurry vision defined and I saw the healer bend forwards, spitting flecks of his saliva to clean the infected wound. Healers have antiseptic mouths, I already knew this from when Kieran had been shot before, but the sight of somebody spitting on a gaping injury sickened me.

  I managed to vomit again. I don’t know how: it was probably days since I’d eaten. I closed my eyes, scrunching up them tightly against the world, and I leaned back in surrender, collapsing against the hands that held me down.

  With one final shock of pain my body gradually accepted the healer. Eventually the pain subsided. I could feel my unharmed cells duplicating and knitting together to seal the open membrane of my wing. After a few minutes the fever seemed to relax and fade; my body cooling.

  Exhaustion pinned me down like a slab of concrete and I felt vulnerable and considerably… invaded. In all honestly I felt like I’d been raped. I felt like someone had forced their way into me. I felt abused, weak and desperate.

  As blackness once again covered my vision I longed for an escape. Not from this unknown destination, not from these unknown people, but from my own body. My own broken body and the thoughts it concealed.

  That smell was there again. It was haunting me. Mould, rock and damp; it was horrible. When my eyes finally fluttered open I realised I was no longer in that infirmary. I was nestled under mountains of thin sheets. My stomach growled ravenously. I reached out my arm and realised I was human for the first time in what must have been days.

  There was a pain at the back of my neck; a deep thudding ache. I felt confused and extremely exhausted. I reached my hand to touch the back of my neck, my fingertips grazing over rough raised flesh. This worsened my confusion; I didn’t recall injuring my neck, but the skin definitely felt scarred.

  The room I was in wasn’t symmetrical: it was rounded at one end with a jagged corner opposite. The walls and ceiling were formulated from a tough, asperous rock. There were cracks submerged deep into the stone like claw marks; obviously I was in some sort of cave. The only thing in the room was the bed I lay on. There were no windows and only one insignificant light source. There was no sink or mirror or even a toilet.

  It was worse than a prison cell.

  I moved to get up, swinging my legs over the side of the small bed. My bare feel touched material and I realised a thick sheepskin rug cushioned the stone floor. Beside the rug were several pieces of clothing which I instantly scurried over to, inspected, then shoved over my naked body.

  Once I was dressed I headed over to the only door I could see; a huge chunk of slanted wood with no handle. I moved to push it but it didn’t give way. I knocked on the door and shouted for help but nobody answered. After about ten minutes of yelling and banging, I sighed and took a step backwards; heading back to the bed. I lay on it, the cheap sheets crackling like paper, and I closed my eyes. I waited for a lo
ng time.

  When I couldn’t wait anymore I once again emerged from the bed and stumbled over to the door. I lay my ear against it: was there anyone on the other side? I leaned closer; my fingers pressed flush against the wood. Eventually I heard the faint sound of shallow breathing. I was being guarded.

  I had no idea where I was or who had captured me; but I wanted out.

  I opened my mouth and began to speak in a low but seductive voice. I whispered softly to begin with, so quiet I knew the guards would barely register the sound. This would make it easier to entrance them.

  Eventually I increased the volume and power of my voice. Almost immediately I heard the click of a lock and key. As the door opened I saw two guards staring blankly at me. My voice changed into the soft sedative murmur of my mother’s lullaby. Within a few moments their eyes closed and they both collapsed, unconscious, to the floor. One snored quietly.

  The makeshift corridor I discovered wasn’t exactly an improvement from my room. The ceiling was arched with uneven rock. That stench evaporated from the walls, wafting closer the smell of growing-stuff. I tiptoed through a complex maze of rocky halls for quite a while; my body tense and the hairs standing up straight on the back of my arms. It was very dark.

  Eventually I discovered a humongous domed room. I looked up, my hand flying to my mouth in astonishment, attempting to muffle my scream. Thousands and thousands of Daemon half-breeds hung from the ceiling like bats. Their leathery wings blanketed their hunched, mutilated bodies and their pointed heads were inches above me in some places.

  My heartbeat flew like a hummingbird’s wing. Clammy moisture accumulated on my palms. I was about to turn around and march right back to my room when I noticed an exit on an opposing wall. Deep indentations were scratched into the stone; as if the arch was carved out by claws.

  I took a deep breath and decided to take the risk; silently creeping over.

  I’d never been more aware of my movements in my life. The sleeping half-breeds made no sound. Every shuffle of my feet seemed to bounce off the walls. I crept under them, at one point crawling on my hands and knees despite the grazes I received. Continually my gaze flickered up towards the creatures; to their twitching, closed eyelids, trying to judge whether they were truly asleep. I barely breathed, feeling dizzy as a consequence.