"You are going to answer a few questions for me now."
My heart was pounding so loudly that I barely heard the second half of his sentence. I clenched my hands into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my skin. With all my strength, I tried to rein in my fear somehow.
Should I attempt to flee now that Lucian was no longer in the room? No, I would probably not survive that. Besides, it could fall back on Lucian…
Jarek's blade released my chin, but did not move away from my throat. He let it slowly spin around its own axis between his fingers, almost casually, as if he were holding a harmless object in his hand and not a razor sharp weapon that could so easily end my life.
For a moment, it was not only fear that had formed a tight knot in my throat, but the realization that I was utterly at the mercy of the people of this realm. That they would decide over my life and that I would be able to change nothing about it.
But there was something else that pushed my fear into the background. It was a strong aversion toward the man standing in front of me. I had not forgotten our first encounter. Least of all what he had intended to do to Marcy.
Then Jarek spoke again:
"You cannot possibly be the Flame Hunter. I am certain of that by now. Someone as inexperienced as you could never have earned a reputation like that. However, her victims definitely existed. At least until not too long ago. Besides, you look younger than the Flame Hunter should be by now according to earlier reports. Which raises the question for me…"
Damn it.
At once, my body began to tremble. No matter how hard I fought against it.
Jarek fell silent for a short while, as if he first had to sort his words.
I had originally intended to keep up the facade for as long as possible in order to secure my survival. At least for the time being.
Only I could clearly not deceive a Leonis like him. Marcy had warned me of that before.
It was not without reason that they were considered the most powerful banner house of the land, completely devoted to the protection of the people.
Yet that was precisely what made them dangerous. Their strength and their reputation reached farther than any title. Even beyond the borders of the country.
And when it came to dealing with magic… especially since magical threats were their field of expertise, they knew far more about it than the rest of the population.
Then he continued:
"Who are you really?"
I pressed my lips together as the air left my lungs.
Even if I had wanted to tell him, it would simply not have been possible. My own sister had taken that decision from me years ago.
Several quick, heavy steps were suddenly audible, along with a few voices nearly tumbling over one another. No clear words could be made out. What was going on out there?
Jarek, who had turned his head toward the door, looked back at me.
"You do not want to answer?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
I avoided his gaze.
What am I supposed to do now?!
"Lucian," he began.
The moment he merely spoke his name, everything inside me tensed.
"You surely do not want to get him into trouble, do you? Speak. Then I will make sure he gets away with nothing more than a black eye," he added.
For a brief instant, I froze into ice while my heart slammed violently against my ribs. Something inside me burned through. And from one moment to the next. Jarek had found my weak point.
"You bastard! If you dare put him in even the smallest danger, I will burn you alive! Do you understand me?!" I heard myself scream before I even grasped what was happening.
It was as if, in that breath, someone else had spoken for me.
I yanked at my restraints and pressed myself against the cold iron. Without my wanting it to, the unrestrained heat inside me took control.
Fire was hurled explosively into the room. My previously weary body suddenly felt fresh as dew, causing me to leap to my feet.
Instinctively, Jarek stepped back. Before he could burst into flames, the Arcanist smothered all of the fire with a swift gesture. In front of his outstretched hand, an orange glowing circle appeared, filled with countless symbols and geometric shapes.
I gasped for air. Meanwhile, the fire was extinguished with a loud hiss until only dark smoke remained.
The large Drakanian whose horns looked like frozen branches shot toward me.
I flinched involuntarily. He grabbed me by the shoulder and forced me violently back against the wall. His claws dug through my clothing and into my skin.
A burning sensation flared beneath his claws, but what hurt even more was the crushing pressure of his grip, which made me clench my teeth.
In an heartbeat, I began to freeze so violently that I shook uncontrollably. What had just moments ago burned through my veins and driven me into a frenzy was erased by biting cold in the space of a single breath.
Why was I so cold? Was I imagining it? It felt as though I had been thrown into icy water.
But then I noticed my own hurried breath forming a small cloud.
Only when I unconsciously moved my hands to rub my arms did I realize that they were no longer being held back by the restraints. The iron chain had completely melted through.
The grip on my shoulder tightened, forcing a cry of pain from me.
"No sudden move or your neck go break!" the woman Drakanian threatened me in her rough voice.
What a strange choice of words…
I raised my trembling hands and blurted out:
"Understood."
The Drakanian lessened the pressure he had been exerting on my shoulder.
Jarek stood a good five steps away from me and the Drakanian.
The woman Drakanian stood slightly in front of him, while the Arcanist had retreated farther into the background. So far that he was almost touching the wall behind him. All of them had assumed serious expressions.
Jarek had not even gone pale. As if nothing had happened, he brushed the last sparks from his sleeve. Only now did the smell of burned flesh reach me. I bit into my lower lip.
Until recently, I had seriously wanted to injure him. But now that my rage had ebbed, nausea rose within me.
I had hurt Jarek again. And he had not even flinched. Did this man feel no pain? Or fear? Seeing him afraid would have brought me a sense of satisfaction. At the same time, I found that thought despicable.
Jarek drew breath to say something, but before he could get even a single word past his lips, there came a pounding at the door.
Someone called out:
"Commander! We have a problem!"
My pulse quickened noticeably.
"I will be right there!" Jarek replied tersely.
He strode toward me in quick, long steps. I backed away and struck the wall. Compared to the cold surrounding me, the iron wall at my back felt pleasantly warm.
Jarek stopped close in front of me. As he deftly turned the sword in his hand so that the pommel came to rest between his thumb and forefinger, he said:
"I can already imagine who the problem is about."
My brows drew together. What did he mean by that?
Jarek moved his arm so quickly that the motion blurred before my eyes. Before I could even realize what was happening, I heard a hiss in the air. Something hard struck my head. A stabbing pain seemed to pierce straight through it.
Then everything suddenly went blurry. The voices of the others faded into the background.
After that, I remember nothing.
*********************************************************************
Kiyan sat on the cell floor near the entrance. His back was leaned against the wall. His legs were drawn up, one arm resting on one knee, the other supporting his head.
His body felt terribly heavy, and every movement cost him additional effort, as if he were wading through deep water.
For many days now, he had done nothing but sit there and try to move as little as possible. To save as much energy as he could by any means.
He could feel clearly that his pulse had grown very slow, and his skin was ice cold as well. His head was pounding, and his throat was parched, since he had not had anything to drink for days.
Still, he was not worried. After all, it would take several more days before he would finally die of thirst. He was far more resilient than a human. Under normal circumstances, he saw that as an advantage. But at the moment, it did not feel like one.
Through the narrow slit that connected him to the outside world and provided the room with light, he picked up the murmur of a larger crowd of people. Along with the clacking of footsteps moving over cobblestones.
Now and then, he could also hear a horse snorting or the rumbling of carriages. He could even hear the birds somewhere on rustling branches. How they sang, fluttered their wings, or fluffed up their feathers, which sounded just like someone shaking a pillow.
Kiyan assumed the sounds came from the local marketplace.
At first, he had tried to look outside through the opening. But it was too high up. The walls were far too slippery for him to climb. Besides, he would not have fit through it anyway.
Kiyan closed his eyes and let the crushing noises of the city blur together.
Instead, he thought of something else. Something more pleasant. He remembered that day with Marcy very clearly. Almost fourteen years ago. Shortly after his first captivity.
Back then, he had still been a child who did not even have a name.
He had only been in Grania for a few months. Therefore, he spoke Granian very poorly. Many words were unfamiliar to him. And since nobody wanted anything to do with him anyway, there were not many opportunities to improve his language skills.
Whenever he was not attending lessons or refining his swordsmanship, he would sneak into the palace garden.
There stood a beautiful fountain made of light stone, finely carved with great care. The edges were adorned with the crest of Grania. A roaring lion with one paw raised. On its back arched an impressive pair of wings.
He ran his fingers over the stone, which had grown warm in the sun. Just before the next crest, he paused, and a shadow fell over his face.
Then he sat down on the edge of the fountain and watched the water as it flowed gently down in a shimmering arc.
No sooner had he sat than his muscles relaxed, and he felt as though he could breathe properly again for the first time.
And very often, when he listened to the soft splashing, a girl would appear.
She was dressed in pretty clothes each time, which were usually covered in dirt or bore grass stains. A hair knot tried in vain to tame her wild curls. Her light blue eyes were as radiant as the sky on a sunny day.
On this day as well, she smiled at him slyly as she plopped down beside him. Whenever she could, she joined him. Aside from the knight who had brought him to Grania, she was the only one for whom he was not invisible.
She addressed him in a bright sounding voice:
"Like… fountain… not?"
Only a few scattered sounds had stuck with him. But it was enough to piece together the rest.
Was it not obvious that he liked the fountain? She sought him out here whenever he was present.
When he studied her with a blank expression, her brow furrowed as she returned his gaze with a sparkle in her eyes.
He turned away and began to tug at his sleeve.
What does she want? Why is she talking to me, when everyone else avoids me and I hardly understand a single word?
The curious girl padded around him with small steps to stand within his line of sight.
He lowered his eyes to her feet, his shoulders tightening.
She spoke to him again:
"... met Reno. He says you have no…"
She had met Reno? The kind knight who looked after him?
He lifted his head.
The girl giggled and pointed at herself. Shortly after, she said:
"Marcy."
He blinked several times. Was that her name? Since he had been living here, he had learned a little about human customs. He had also learned that everyone placed great importance on their own name and on the names of others. He simply did not understand why that was so. What were names for? In his homeland, he had never needed one.
The girl placed a hand on her breastbone and repeated:
"Marcy."
She pronounced each sound individually.
This time, he nodded. So that was her name. Marcy.
She began to beam, leaned down toward him, and pointed at him with her index finger.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he shook his head.
I have no name.
So that was what she had been talking about earlier. Slowly, what Marcy had tried to express before came together in his mind: 'I spoke to Reno and he says you have no name.' Or something like that. She had probably said more to him. At least he had learned a new word.
The corners of her mouth dropped. With downcast eyes, she murmured:
"No name?"
He nodded several times.
"In your… you do not use names?" she then asked him. Marcy sat down in front of him on the ground and leaned forward as if she were waiting for something very exciting.
He briefly lifted his shoulders to show her that he did not fully understand. There was really only one word missing. He had heard it for the first time. How could he get her to say it again? He would have liked to ask, but not a single sound wanted to leave his throat. And yet, he liked learning new things.
A crease formed between her brows. Then she abruptly lifted her head:
"You know what home is?"
Now she had caught his attention. He shook his head.
She placed a hand on her chest and said:
"For me."
Then she pointed at the surroundings with a circling motion of her arm:
"Home."
She grinned.
Home. What did that word mean? Did she mean her house? His gaze drifted into the distance for a moment. There had once been a place he could have called home, but it no longer existed. All at once, his heart felt heavy.
"You do not use names, right? In your home?" she pressed on with slightly parted lips and sparkling eyes.
He denied it with a shake of his head.
Humans and their names, he thought with a quiet sigh.
She jumped up, pulled her eyebrows high, and asked:
"May I give you one? A name? Only if you want. You can say no."
His breath caught for the fraction of a heartbeat.
A name? What would he even do with that?
"A name makes many things easier," she explained and nodded several times, as if she had guessed his thoughts.
Marcy tilted her head slightly and studied him with a smile. Now and then she fidgeted restlessly.
It did not really matter to him whether he had a name or not. It would not change much.
But there this lively girl was, sitting in front of him, and it seemed to be important to her that he had one. And for some reason, he wanted to fulfil that wish. She could give him a name then, whatever it might be. He would carry it with honour.
The corners of his mouth twitched before forming into a smile. He nodded in agreement.
Marcy clapped her hands in delight and said:
"Great… I have a…"
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her questioningly. What exactly had she said? She had a what?
But she was already looking down at the ground and seemed lost in thought.
Suddenly she straightened up, looked at him and raised one finger.
"Ah!" she exclaimed.
She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, held her arms in front of her body with her palms facing down and explained:
"My mama comes… south."
He shifted on his spot. Her mother. The south. She came from the south?
"Everything is different there," she continued. "There is… and a huge desert."
She emphasised the word 'huge' with a gesture of both arms forming a wide half circle.
He nodded to show that he could follow her more or less. Not much was missing anymore, and that was progress.
Then she let her hands fall and asked with her head tilted and a smile as warm as a sunny day:
"What about Kiyan? As your name? It comes from the south, like me."
She paused after every sentence to give him time to think.
When he just stared at her without answering, she added:
"The south is my home. But with you, it also feels like home."
He tilted his head slightly and lifted his gaze to the sky. There was something in his chest that he had not felt in a long time. As if warm, golden rays of sunlight were shining straight into his heart.
"Oh… if you do not like it, we can look for… another," Marcy said quietly and sat down beside him.
No, I do not want another.
He shook his head in a hurry, placed a hand on hers and gave her a gentle smile.
Marcy took his hand and replied with a laugh:
"Good. Then from today on, I will call you Kiyan."
In the next instant, Kiyan flinched as his head sagged forward. Had he fallen asleep?
Damn it, I have to pull myself together. If I fall asleep in this cold room, it is possible that I will not be able to move at all anymore.
He shook out his arms. Every single muscle was stiff, as if frozen solid. The biting pain in his shoulder flared up again, but at least he could move.
It is fine.
Even though parts of his back and his hips were numb.
Then he looked toward the small shaft. It was still daytime, but no longer quite as bright. It had also grown quieter. He could barely hear horses clattering across the cobblestones anymore, and even the dull human footsteps had become fewer.
Just like the voices that had been speaking wildly over one another and the singing of the birds.
From the corridor he heard echoing steps thundering over stone, accompanied by a quiet murmur.
He wondered whether Marcy was all right. He had not seen her for four days. Since they had known each other, they had only been separated for so long a few times. Only because of Lucian did he know that she was alive. But that was not enough. How was her injury? Was she in pain? Was she afraid?
Every time he thought about it, his hands began to tremble.
Why had Marcy exposed herself to such danger so carelessly? If she had not come out of her hiding place, she would never have been hurt. Without the cloak, she would have been run through. Why had she protected him when that was supposed to be his task?
Unconsciously, Kiyan had clenched his fists until they cracked.
They were here only because of Nova. What she had done was unforgivable. He swore that if he ever got the chance, he would not let her get away unscathed. Wherever she might be now.
His heart was pounding up into his throat, and suddenly he grew hot. A heat burned in his belly as if someone had lit a fire inside him.
He forced himself to relax his hands and brushed the bothersome strands from his face before rubbing his tired eyes.
I have to calm down.
Excitement or even anger cost too much energy. And without energy, he lost too much warmth. He could not afford either.
Suddenly, something fluttered near the shaft. Like the beating of a bird's wings. At first it was very faint, then it grew louder. Finally the sound fell silent right in front of the shaft. A gentle gust of air found its way into the cell.
Probably just a bird.
Right as he was about to return to doing nothing, a metallic vibration rang out.
With a groan, Kiyan pushed himself upright. He came to his feet only with difficulty.
At the shaft, a shadow could be seen. Something was tugging at the grate.
The metal screeched as it was bent. Kiyan's eardrums nearly burst from the noise.
What was that supposed to be? As his breath caught and the last of the warmth drained from his face, he whirled toward the door.
Nothing happened. The door remained locked. No one burst in to investigate what had caused the noise.
Instead, a confused crashing and shouting echoed from the corridor.
"We need reinforcements!" he heard someone shout.
What was going on?
Behind Kiyan, something crashed.
He turned around. Every muscle along his spine tightened.
Then he shifted his weight forward, his hands loose but slightly raised.
The grate was torn from its frame, and for the blink of an eye there was absolute silence.
Apart from the distant noise of the marketplace, Kiyan could make out nothing with his keen hearing.
Something, or rather some kind of being, squeezed through the opening and landed silently, crouched low on the floor.
The soft landing, so gentle it seemed as if gravity itself had ceased for a moment, reminded Kiyan of how he too could leap from great heights without injury. But he possessed that ability only because of his wind magic.
The figure was far smaller than Kiyan. Barely a foot and a half tall.
His eyes widened and every single hair stood on end.
Instinctively, he took several steps back, his hands raised protectively in front of him. The air in the room seemed to crush him.
He had never seen anything like this before. No, that was not entirely true. Once, he had felt an overwhelming energy like this. Just once.
In an instant, fragments of a long-buried past flashed before his eyes.
A past he believed he had already left behind. Snow as far as the eye could see. So thick he could barely see his own hand in front of his face. The occasional flare of light and the thunderous roar that followed.
A cold that turned every breath into searing agony. And that monstrous creature that had dragged his entire homeland, or what little remained of it, down into the abyss.
As the small being drew closer, his heart began to race wildly and he could barely breathe.