“I’m sorry, Joclyn, but they have found us; we have to move now.”
My heart plunged. I knew beyond a doubt who “they” were: Cail, Timothy, Edmund… Ryland. I kept my head about me this time, the magic-induced sleep seeming to have helped me cope with the reality of Ryland’s association with the man who would stop at nothing to kill me.
“Ryland?”
“I don’t know, Joclyn. He could be with them. He could be… I just don’t know.” Ilyan stripped the remaining blankets from over me, causing my body to tense with deep aches that overtook me.
“I am sorry, Joclyn. I would do this gently, but we really do not have the time. I had hoped to have your spine healed before we moved you, but Edmund has other plans.” He kneeled down beside me and ran his hand down the right side of my face, his thumb resting on my mark. I expected a jolt or a pain like that which had accompanied Ryland’s touch, but instead, I felt nothing.
“I need you to be as quiet as you can. I can’t take the pain away right now; you need to be strong.” He slid his arms underneath my body and I knew what he meant. My body wasn’t as close to being healed as I had thought. With the heavy blankets gone, the aches and pains covered every inch of me. I felt like I had been thrown out of a third story window, which I had been.
I tried desperately to keep the majority of the sound in my throat as Ilyan lifted me and placed me on the floor on top of the blanket he had laid there. I lay like a rag doll, my body unwilling to move.
As Ilyan straightened me out, I caught a glimpse of fleece pajama bottoms—the same ones I had been wearing in my dream with Ryland. My heart caught, instantly aware that Ryland was right; it wasn’t a dream. If it wasn’t a dream, then what had happened to Ryland?
Ilyan wrapped the blanket around me tightly, like one does an infant, and then prepared to lift me. My body tensed as his hands began to slide underneath me.
“Ilyan,” I pleaded, “I can’t”
“You can, Joclyn. You have to. If we don’t leave now, they will kill you. There are too many of them for me to fight on my own. You are the last of the Chosen Children; the last one between Edmund and his “perfect” world.” He slid his hands under me and lifted me to his chest in one quick movement. I groaned as we moved, allowing too much sound to escape my lips.
“Do it for Ryland, Joclyn. He may need you soon.”
I clenched my teeth. I thought of Ryland, the way he twitched and writhed as his father fought his way into his brain. Ilyan was right; someone had to save Ryland, too.
I turned my body into Ilyan as he ran out the door of the apartment and down the stairs toward the small parking garage that sat below the complex. I kept my teeth clenched as my body jostled around, my hands wrapped around the blanket. I focused on my tensed muscles in an attempt to ignore the sharp pains.
I could tell when we entered the garage; Ilyan’s footsteps changed to a flat gait that echoed around concrete walls. He walked straight to the black Mazda he always drove, the rear driver’s side door opening on its own before we even reached it. He leaned over and placed me in the center of the back seat.
“How many,” he asked Wyn who sat in the passenger seat looking stressed.
“At least a hundred, but they are spread out.”
Ilyan reached around me and firmly placed the seatbelt over my shoulder and waist, placing large bags and suitcases around me in an obvious effort to stabilize me.
“You still need to be quiet, Joclyn.” He placed his hand against the right side of my face, his thumb resting on my mark. I twitched away from the foreign, uncomfortable touch again. “It’s more important to get us out of here alive than in comfort.”
“For Ryland,” I sighed, trying desperately to keep my mind focused.
“For Ryland.” Ilyan slid into the front seat, and turned the key in the ignition, revving the car to life.
“Where is the strongest?” he asked Wyn as he backed the car out of the parking stall.
The force of the car’s movement slammed me into the large bag on my left. I cringed at the pain of the impact.
“There are more bodies to the east, but the strongest power is coming from the north. That would be my guess as to where they are.”
“To the north then.” Ilyan’s jaw clenched as he hit the accelerator and gunned us out of the dark parking garage.
The warm summer sun poured through the back window, and I leaned my head against the seat, letting the sunlight hit my skin a bit. It felt nice; if only this warmth wouldn’t go away, I might be able to endure the pain.
“To the north?” Wyn asked. “You can’t be serious, My Lord. We would be walking into their trap.”
There it was again, My Lord.