Born of Fire

“I know I wouldn’t want him upset at me. But you’re the power in charge here. How did you spell your name again?”


He shuffled several papers on top of his desk as if debating, then finally he reached for his link. “Warden Traysen, I have a Seax Dagan here who is waiting to transfer Syn to Gouran. I need your approval, sir.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Shahara took a deep breath in relief. So far everything was going as planned. Just a few more minutes and she’d be safely away.

But how long each second was turning out to be . . . When Traysen showed up, she reminded herself not to acknowledge that they knew each other in any way.

He eyed her with a cool, warning stare.

Without a word of greeting, she followed him down a series of locked and guarded hallways until they entered the detention area.

Scanning the facility, she couldn’t squelch her revulsion over the living conditions of the prisoners. The lower into the facility they went, the worse the conditions in each cell—which literally were holes cut out of the masonry. Holes that were barely large enough for a small child, never mind the men and women who were forced to live inside them.

Unidentified odors assailed her until she could barely breathe. Human excrement littered not only the floors of the cells, but also spilled over into the hallways.

Little to no light reached the prisoners who moaned and begged for death and mercy as they passed.

The seax in her rebelled at their inhumane conditions and she vowed to see to it that the overseer’s council was notified of this violation. No one, regardless of their crimes, should have to live like these people did.

How did Traysen work here day after day and not report it?

“Merjack ordered me to keep Syn penned in solitary.” Traysen swung open an armored door which led to an underground area. A brisk, cold wind blew up the stairs, freezing her. “I warn you, he’s one tough son of a bitch.”

“Merjack?”

Traysen shook his head. “Syn. I’ve never seen anyone like him in my life and I thought I’d seen it all in my day. I’m not quite sure if a little thing like you can handle him.”

“I’ve handled worse,” Shahara said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Last time they’d tangled hadn’t gone all that well for her.

She just hoped she had better luck this time.

And right now she wasn’t too sure if Syn wouldn’t kill her on sight. Who could blame him? She had a hard time picturing the immaculate Syn residing in such a filthy place as this.

The cells down where Traysen led were made of titanium instead of stone. Clear, steel-glass walls sealed off the front of the cells and allowed her to see into them, but no audible sound could be heard. The prisoners, male and female, were naked and chained down by stakes on the titanium floor or secured to the walls or ceiling. Shahara’s stomach churned in horror. Given their condition and the frigid temperature, she didn’t know what kept them from freezing to death.

When they neared Syn’s cell, it was all she could do not to retch. His hands were chained together over his head, and another chain suspended from the ceiling kept him two feet above the floor. More chains were secured to his feet on a short line to prevent him from being able to kick.

Every muscle in his upper torso was stretched taut by the unnatural position. It had to be killing him.

Bruises and lacerations marred every inch of his naked body, and his long, tangled hair obscured his face from her. She bit her lip as guilt gnawed at her conscience.

This was all her fault. How could she have been so stupid?

They’d beaten him well. She could only imagine how much pain he must be in. “How long has he been like this?”

“A few hours. Release the holding hook,” Traysen said into his handheld link. “And send me backup . . .” He looked at her before he added, “a lot of backup.”

Instead of being lowered gently, Syn dropped to the ground like a sack of vegetables. She grimaced.

He lay on the floor, unmoving. Her heart stopped beating. He didn’t appear to be alive. Had they killed him?

Eight enforcers joined them an instant before the narrow glass door raised. Slowly, the guards moved into the cell.

“A real tough son of a bitch,” Traysen repeated before moving her to the side of the door as if to protect her from something.

When they seized Syn’s chains, he sprang to life, striking out at them. With his fist wrapped in the chain, he decked the first guard to touch him, then he went after the second. For several seconds, he put up a good fight. But with his hands and feet chained together, he didn’t have enough mobility to finish them off.

The guards beat him down with clubs, knocking him back to the floor.

Shahara dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands, trying to keep herself from crying out for them to stop this.

If she did that, it’d mean both their lives.

Steady. Play it cool.