Page 89 of Burdened Bonds
I slice my magic through it and then I’m running again, swerving the trees that attempt to block me, resisting my mother’s plea to stay, stay with her, stay with her, stay with her.
I cover my ears with my hands. Another face and another. I fire my magic at them. But they’re like air. Barely rippling as my magic passes straight through them.
I keep running, sweat pouring down my face and into my eyes, my clothes damp.
Is this how it ends? Like this? Lost among the trees, invisible so no one will even find my body.
Will she feel it? Will she know that I’m gone? Will it hurt her?
I don’t want to hurt her anymore. I’m not going to. I fire my magic out in front of me, scorching the trees and running through the flames. They burn at my face but I don’t stop, I keep pushing and pushing and pushing until finally, finally, I break free of the trees, and collapse downonto my knees, panting, my chest heaving. I can still hear those voices taunting me, but they’re behind me now, locked in the forest.
I stumble to my feet, refusing to look back and continue on my way.
The prison is locatedin an old fortress in the middle of marshland to the east of the capital. There’s one paved road that stretches across the swamp, but as I don’t want to be spotted, I’m forced to abandon the motorbike and make my way cross-country on foot.
My feet plunge into the soggy land, and soon my boots, my socks, and my feet are soaked through. Twice I nearly lose a boot altogether, the mud sucking hungrily at my feet, and once I sink all the way down to my thighs and am forced to use my magic to pull myself out. But finally, I see the shadow of the fortress looming in front of me. It’s ringed by the old moat that’s guarded it for centuries, the ancient drawbridge still the only way to cross, and sentries posted along the battlements.
I peer down into the moat, debating whether I’m going to have to swim across. Even in the darkness, I can see the water is a putrid green color and things I don’t want to examine too closely are floating on its surface. Yeah, I won’t be swimming in that. Which leaves the drawbridge.
Tonight, it’s raised and securely fixed in place.
I consider waiting until it’s lowered and sneaking my way inside unseen. But who knows when that will be. I could be left waiting for days and I don’t have the patience or the inclination for that.
No, I decide to use my tried and most tested method forsolving a problem. Throwing my fucking family name at it. Yeah, it’s fucking arrogant. It’s also damn effective.
As soon as I decide on that course of action, I regret not coming by road on the motorbike. I’m going to look mighty suspicious turning up alone outside the prison, my boots wet and my legs covered in marshy slime.
Then again, I’m the Lord Protector’s son himself. I’m sure I can convince them to let me in. Of course, someone’s bound to call it in, double check I’m meant to be here. But I plan to be long gone with my friend before my dad or his forces turn up to investigate what I’m up to.
I let myself reappear, using my magic to dry my boots and clean up my pants as best I can. Then I step out onto the road and call up at the guards on the battlements.
Immediately, their weapons are trained my way and a spotlight swings in my direction, blinding me in the process. I shade my eyes.
“State your identity and your intentions immediately or we’ll be forced to take you out.”
“Tristan Kennedy,” I say in as arrogant and bored tone as I can manage. “Here under my father’s orders to see the Moreau prisoner. Lower the bridge.”
“In the middle of the night?” the guard says with incredulity.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” I snap.
The guard eyes me, then turns and whispers to his friend.
“How did you get here?” he says, still unconvinced. “We didn’t see anyone approaching.”
“I’m the Lord Protector’s son. I have powers and abilities you couldn’t even imagine. If I want to arrive unnoticed and unannounced, that is no fucking concern of yours. Now, do you want me to report your insolence to my father, or not?”
The guard peers at the other one nervously, then waves his hand and the bridge lowers slowly, groaning as it does. It takes far longer than I’d like, wasting precious minutes, and I’ve jumped up on the boards and am striding across before it’s fully lowered.
A more senior-looking guard meets me at the entrance of the prison, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and introduces himself as the warden.
“We weren’t told to expect you.”
“And I suppose you’re told of all my father’s plans, are you?” I sneer.
“No, but–”
“Your guards have already wasted enough of my time. I’ve been sent on urgent business by my father and it’s important I see the prisoner now.” I look down my nose at the warden, imitating my dad’s cold and merciless manner as best I can.
