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Kellyn's Sacrifice
Isabo Kelly
Kellyn listened to the harsh shouts and
curses from above, echoing down the spiral
stairway. And she knew she wouldn’t survive
the night.
She crept up the tower stairs, her sword,
Ba’nari, held in front of her as a shield as
much as a weapon. Her only light was a faint
moonglow filtering in through arrow slit
windows that spiraled up with the stairs.
She knew there were no more guards in the
tower. Vahe would never be so stupid as to
leave a guard within the reach of a
Gryphatar. Still, she held the sword in a
tight grip, dreading what she’d find when
she reached the top of the stairs.
The violent tug at the edges of her mind
grew more disorienting the closer she got to
the top of the tower, but her barriers held.
She silently thanked the Aleanian Priestess
who’d sent her on this one last mission for
providing those mental blocks.
It would make the last moments of her life
bearable.
She turned the final curve of the circular
stairway and came face to face with the end
of her quest. The tower room opened before
her. No doors covered the arched entrance.
There was no need.
The man in the center of the large, empty
room stood secured by thick manacles around
his wrists and ankles. His arms were
stretched above his head, pulled taut so the
thick muscles of his biceps strained. His
legs were also pulled into a wide stance and
held immobile by chains. Every muscle in his
powerful frame bulged under the strain of
his confinement. His naked body glistened
with sweat despite the sharp breeze washing
through the room from four tall windows.
His head was bowed forward, his golden-brown
hair hanging over his face, blocking his
features. But she knew who he was the
instant she stepped into the room. She was
doomed to recognize him the minute she got
near him, even though they’d never laid eyes
on each other.
He was silent now. The curses and growls
she’d heard all the way up the stairs hung
as echoes in the quiet air. She sucked in a
deep breath and tried to calm her racing
heart as she took one step closer.
His head snapped up, his nostrils flared.
She froze, caught in the darkest gaze she’d
ever seen.
“No,” he said, his voice harsh and raspy
from overuse. “Not you.”
“I’m the only one.”
“No.” He shook his head violently. “You
don’t understand. As soon as I’m released,
I’ll kill you.”
She smiled, a slight lifting of the lips. “I
know.”
She crossed the room to him, keeping her
gaze on his face. “Your Aerie sent a plea to
the Aleanian Temple to help you. The High
Priestess sent me.”
His jaw flexed as she approached.
She stopped within
touching distance, but she didn’t dare touch
him yet. Instead, she studied the iron
manacles. They weren’t secured with any kind
of lock, only held tight by a single rod of
metal threaded through interlocking bolt
holes and twisted into a groove at the top
to keep the bar from slipping free. The Gryphatar’s body was too stretched to allow him
to free himself, but the manacles would be easy for her to open.
Vahe probably hadn’t counted on anyone coming to free his prisoner.
Why would anyone risk it, knowing the effort would mean their
deaths?
(Gimme,
Gimme!) |
