Waylon's Crossing - 14. Chapter 14: Let it be a Nightmare

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 14: Let it be a Nightmare

With Alan safely unconscious and back to himself again, Kynan dropped out of the dreamscape. He felt unusually tired, his muscles ached dreadfully, and his head was pounding. He wanted to stay curled up under the bed and bawl, but he forced himself to move. He needed to get cleaned up. Scrambling out from under the suddenly too-confining bed cost Kynan some more skin and bruises, but standing again was a great relief. He rolled his shoulders and walked about a bit before his thirst drove him toward the table.

The door to the room opened just as Kynan picked up the water jug. He whirled, the pitcher falling to smash on the floor.

"So," said the prince, "you decide to --" He halted, nostrils flaring, in the center of the room. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped on the length of Kynan's chain, his eyes narrowing in fury. "Who's been in here?"

"No one!"

Xeran bounded forward and Kynan shrank back. He yanked futilely at the chain that bound him, falling back under the prince's assault. They had a brief scuffle and then the prince lifted him up against the wall, his left foot stretching to a painful angle at the limit of the chain and scraping raw the tender skin of his back. Kynan's hands grasped at the prince's wrist, as the demon held him in a grip around the neck just under his jaw. He leaned forward, sniffed Kynan, and rubbed some dirt off his arm to reveal the deep but healing bruising beneath, all too clearly made by someone's hands. Kynan's, but Xeran didn't know that.

"I can smell it on you!" rumbled the prince.

Kynan increased his struggles as Xeran groped at the front of his pants. He hissed involuntarily, wincing in pain as the prince grasped at him, then brought his moistened fingers to his nose. With a look of utter contempt, the demon backhanded Kynan, the rings he wore digging deep gouges in Kynan's cheek.

"Who was it?"

Kynan writhed, gasping as Xeran slammed him back against the wall, blinking, seeing stars, his head pounding even worse than before. "No one!" he yelled, then had to gulp as the prince lashed him with the force rod, slapping straight across his abdomen. The rod hummed as the prince drew his arm back for another blow. Kynan's stomach clenched in protest, and he drew up his free leg to try and protect himself.

He lasted two more strokes before the rod caught him about the hips and thighs and he yelped, "N-no one! I swear!"

The prince dropped him and Kynan curled up on his side, gasping. The demon kicked him over onto his stomach, holding him down with one massive foot to eye the two parallel stripes of bruising on Kynan's back, earned during his fall on the dreamscape. Anger beginning to overcome his paralyzing fear, Kynan twisted viciously to dislodge the prince and drag his bloody cheek off the stone of the floor. He climbed to his knees before the prince lashed him again. Kynan ducked and raised an arm to shield himself, taking the blow mostly on his shoulder.

"Tell me," growled Xeran, glaring down at him, "and I will go easy on you."

Kynan wiped again at the blood dripping from his cheek and glared right back. "I tell you: no one. Question your guards. I'm sure they'll tell you the same."

The prince actually laughed, sending chills up Kynan's spine. "I intend to, but let me assure you that they will not be so uncooperative." He swiped at Kynan again as he made as if to stand, then grabbed him by the hair and slammed him back against the wall, pressing the now-neutral rod up against his throat.

"You are mine, my sweet," he purred. "Ah, how I see you dislike that! But no matter, you are mine, and no one touches my property without my permission. Do you understand?"

"I don't belong to anyone!"

When the prince struck at him in fury, roaring, Kynan leaped at him. He got his hands on the rod, but the prince activated the field and Kynan had to let go, cursing, as his palms blistered. He took the next swipe across one temple and slumped to the floor. He tried to rise, but the prince beat him for several minutes, raining blows upon his back and shoulders. The rod slashed once at an angle that sent sparks of agony flaming through Kynan's every nerve and for the first time since being taken captive, he screamed. Surprised, Xeran paused and knelt beside his prisoner on the floor. Catching him by the hair once more, the prince shook Kynan, turning his head to stare at him.

"Your cussedness is no longer amusing." Kynan's furious, pain-filled scowl only made Xeran smile. He trailed the end of the deactivated rod over Kynan's body. "Give yourself to me, and all will be forgiven."

Kynan spit. In a rage, the prince threw Kynan away from him, to roll painfully across the floor, tangled in his chain.

"You cannot deny me forever!" screamed the prince.

Kynan felt an answering anger rising. He clipped his words short. "Yes, I can."

With one look at the fury in the demon's eyes, Kynan threw his arms over his head and took a couple deep breaths to prepare himself. The pain of each individual lash quickly ceased to matter in the mass of agony, and Kynan only sought to endure, no longer seeing or feeling anything beyond the moment. He wasn't even sure after a while if he were screaming or not.

Kynan took little notice of the end of his punishment. Unconsciousness only came upon him slowly as the edges of his vision darkened and reluctantly faded.

*          *          *

A small sound woke Bryce. He glanced over toward the source to see Alan twist from his back to his side, another whimper reaching Bryce's ears. The unseen weight that was Aure shifted across Bryce and he soothed the elemental with a soft caress.

"Just a nightmare. It'll pass." It better.

Aure rested in a light layer stretched thin over their chosen camp. As he didn't need sleep the way the others did, Aure kept watch over them, smothering any noise and distributing their scents to preserve their clandestine activities. With a little concentration, he pressed up tighter against Bryce, nuzzling his neck while still maintaining the integrity of his air pocket. Trapping the air in such a way also served to conserve their body heat as the constant breezes kept the tunnels decidedly cool.

"Mm," sighed the vampire. Under normal circumstances, he'd gladly hole up in a room somewhere and let Aure get his fill, but the constant attention at present only made him nervous. Not that he would ever turn Aure down, it was just ... he couldn't explain it ... he just couldn't ever remember a time when the elemental had been so -- well, okay, so elementals don't 'get horny' -- but what else could it be?

Nearby, Jacen's ears twitched, but he dismissed the noises as normal nightly activity, especially as Alan's whimpers tapered off into deeper sleep.

Jacen felt vaguely queasy, an uneasy sloshing in his stomach accompanied by abominably itchy skin. From that, they estimated that if they weren't in the demon world, then they were in an area of the Borderlands that was very close. Bryce said he experienced similar feelings near consecrated ground. Sympathy didn't help the irritableness that came from an incessant state of hyper-alertness. Add to that an inability to sleep deeply or at length and even Jacen's cheery disposition was wearing thin.

He knew that coming was the right thing to do, and even knowing what he knew now, he knew he'd make the same decision to help given the opportunity to change things. Still, that was not to say that he was enjoying himself or didn't regret his choice.

Stepping into the demon world had also done something else. The invisible, magical tether between the ring and Jacen and the ring and the city's mage, grew in strength rather than faded, with every step he took away from the city. With his sense of direction confused by the dark and narrow, twisting corridors, Jacen took to walking with one hand on Alan's pack to keep from getting lost.

Alan and Bryce moaned almost simultaneously, making Jacen roll his eyes and reach for his own sex for some relief, but there was no satisfaction to be had. Bryce and Aure were too wrapped up in each other, and Alan was off limits. Something inside just went squick at the very thought of lying with the werewolf.

Stroking himself briskly, Jacen listened and thought about the hidden magic so tantalizingly close and yet so far away.

Both of Jacen's parents had unicorn blood, and they'd tried to explain the allure of magic users, those individuals capable of shaping the loose magic of the world into paths of their own making, but nothing could compare to the heightened arousal caused by rubbing against ancient powers day in and day out. Unicorns were made of magic, breathed it, lived it, created it, but they had no say in what it did or when or why. They could purify water by dipping their horns in the liquid, thereby making any collection of water safe to drink, but they had no ability to direct the magic that went into their makeup, not like Elvin or human mages who could use spells to alter the design of the world around them.

True to his heritage, Jacen had pieces of many different kinds of magic, but he had no choice in using the magic; stuff just happened. It was all so very frustrating! Now, finally, years after he'd run away, he found he'd run right into the very thing that he'd run from. He had a token of ancient power in his hands, an object made with an alliance of different magics and forged by spell. He'd picked it up one day and just knew. Two choices hung before him. If he set the ring aside, it would vanish again, returning to whence it came; if he slid the metal over his finger, he accepted a different path.

Brought to the elves to be raised following the death of his mother, Jacen grew up knowing that something more than his looks made him different from the small, lean, graceful people. They treated him like a precious artifact and he became spoiled and demanding. They gave him anything he wanted, but nothing that he needed. Jacen had no companions, no friends, no one to soothe the infrequent childhood fears or ease the loneliness of long nights. They watched him and they waited.

When his magic matured, Jacen learned, to his dismay, just how much worth he held to his adoptive family. Like the ring on his finger, Jacen was just a power source to the Elvin mages he served, and nothing more. There was no question of refusal; Jacen was like the ring: only a power source. The ring by itself was just a magical artifact, but a mage could tap into the stored magic to power spells. If Jacen placed the Ring of the Ancients on his finger, he became another source of power, linked to the mage by the ring. He could refuse with no ramifications, but he didn't want to.

He would never be able to bear his mage into battle like the unicorns of old, but the ring connected them just as closely, putting all of Jacen's innate magical talent at the mercy of a total stranger without the need for physical contact. He could feel the magic plucking at him, growing stronger with every passing hour. There was an element of uncertainty, to be sure, a fear of being used again, but there was excitement, too. He remembered this touch, hungered for it in a completely different way from before. He wanted this so badly his body ached and sparked far beyond physical touch.

Gritting his teeth, he thrust into his hand, arching his back. His mouth fell open as he panted, eyes open but unseeing. Then he sat up.

Alan gasped, a meek cry not unlike the kind a new babe would give just prior to a loud, protesting wail, only nothing was forthcoming. Jacen listened expectantly until the silence grew heavy and oppressive, and then felt his way across the small, hidden alcove to where the werewolf lay.

"Jacen?" asked Bryce somewhat incoherently, as the healer's movement drew his attention from Aure's seduction.

He didn't answer right away, leaning down to press his ear to the werewolf's chest, listening for a pulse and feeling for a slight rise and fall in the chest. Nothing. There was a faint, erratic heartbeat, but Alan wasn't breathing!

Bryce pushed at Aure, but he wasn't letting go. He turned his head to see the healer crouched over Alan. "Jacen?" he asked again.

"There's something amiss," Jacen murmured. Magic pulsed behind his ears, making it hard for him to concentrate, but he could almost discern some kind of connection. Not like before, this time more fragile, as if the werewolf's mind drifted from his body. The phenomenon was intriguing enough that he wanted to study it further, but he instead turned his focus toward the more pressing matter of getting Alan breathing again.

"Get off me," grumbled Bryce to Aure, promising, "Later, love," and then asking Jacen, "Do you need a light?"

"Well ...."

"I can't hide it," said the elemental grumpily.

"We'll risk it," Bryce decided. He grabbed for the lantern in its case. "What's going on?"

Jacen shot the vampire an annoyed glance. "Hell if I know." He squinted against the unfamiliar glow from the small lamp and studied Alan's face. His skin was cool but moist, his heart rate faint and very fast.

"I thought he said he talked to this guy mind-to-mind, like you can?"

The healer shook his head. "I can see images, words, sometimes, but nothing like what he was describing. They're connected now, but I don't know how. I've never known anybody to communicate while asleep."

Don't jump to conclusions, Bryce told himself. "Well, what can we do?"

"Hope he wakes up?"

"That's not very helpful."

"Shut up." Placing both palms over Alan's chest, Jacen forced Bryce's concerns and Aure's masking presence to the very back of his mind. He concentrated on the magical link between himself and the mage. Jacen couldn't do this himself. He knew the theory, but not the means to enact what needed to be done.

Help me, he thought. Are you out there? Help me.