The Chain (The Secret of Spellshadow Manor #3)(53)

Alex was in the process of snatching magic out of the air and redirecting it toward the other guards, when four of the assailants launched a singular attack on him. It came out of nowhere, catching him in the knees, sending him crashing with a painful crunch to the floor. It was the opportunity the Stillwater mages had been waiting for, as the rest surged in around him, physically knocking his friends out of the way as they rushed to restrain Alex. One particularly tall, handsome-looking guard held a pair of horribly familiar manacles in his hands as he loomed over Alex, yanking at the young man’s arms as he held them upward and locked the manacles around Alex’s wrists.

Things with locks hadn’t proved much of a nuisance to Alex, but, to his horror, he saw that the manacles were entwined with twisting vines of the dull, gray ivy that littered the walls of Spellshadow. Moments later, he felt the icy creep of its draining energy working its way through his arms. Another guard skirted behind him, wielding something heavy. The unseen object hit Alex in the back of the skull with such force, he thought it had taken his head clean off. It was the last thing he remembered fully as the world went black.

With barely a sliver of consciousness left, Alex was aware of chains scraping and indecipherable noises clanging in an echo around him. He could make out the defiant sound of Ellabell’s voice, followed by Natalie’s, but it was Jari’s voice that soared above the rest in a loud, angry snarl as he sniped something nasty at somebody, though Alex couldn’t see any of them. His eyesight was fuzzy and his head pounded, and he tasted dirt in his mouth as he felt the cold, hard texture of the stone beneath his cheek.

Moments later, he felt the thud of something being shoved to the ground nearby—his friends, he presumed grimly, as he heard agonized groans. Though he couldn’t see or move, it did not stop the feeling of rage that burned in his chest. Several times, he tried to break free of the manacles, though he wasn’t sure how intently his limbs were listening to what his brain wanted, and the ivy continued to keep the anti-magic at bay.

Shortly afterward, Alex became aware of the sensation of being carried, followed by the hefty thump of his shoulder hitting something wooden. For a while, nothing happened in his blind confusion, until the soft sound of oars slicing through the water rushed through his ears, letting him know they were on the lake. He had already guessed the destination, though they seemed to travel for a much longer time than he remembered the trip taking, from the lighthouse to Stillwater.

He was forced to put his trust in the competence of his hearing as he listened to the boat run aground on a distant shore. Hands grasped him and hauled him along for a long while, it seemed, before his body was unceremoniously thrown down onto more hard, cold flagstones, though these had a certain dank dampness to them that felt unpleasant against his cheek. The place smelled musty and sour, making his nose wrinkle as he struggled to sit up. His head snapped toward the sound of a key turning in a lock, as an image pieced itself together in his mind. He was in a cell of some sort, he guessed, as the sounds and scents and sensations made things a little clearer.

It wasn’t long before his eyesight returned, confirming his suspicions. Glancing around, pain pulsing behind his eyeballs, he saw that he was in a dark and damp cell. The walls were slick and dripping with some unknown substance, and a metallic undertone soured the fusty tang of the room. It was a smell he recognized, and, as he brushed a cautious finger along one of the wall stones, the sticky substance that came away shone with a red tinge that made him shudder. Two torches dimly lit the room, but Alex wasn’t sure whether the low visibility was a blessing or a curse. There was no telling what horrors lurked in the shadowed corners.

As soon as he became more familiar with his surroundings and his sight had returned fully, his thoughts turned immediately to the welfare of his friends. Moving toward the thick wooden door, his head still thumping with dull pain, he tried to peer out of the grate, but could see only the wall beyond.

“Guys?” he shouted, squeezing as much of his face through the narrow bars as possible. “Guys, can you hear me?”

“Alex, is that you?” Natalie replied.

“It’s me—are the others with you?”

“I’m here!” called Jari.

“And me,” said Aamir.

“Me too!” Ellabell responded, from farther down the corridor.

None of them sounded too worse for wear, though perhaps a little groggy. He wasn’t surprised. If they felt anything like he did, they were bound to sound shaky.

“Are you all okay?” he yelled.

“My head is a little sore,” said Natalie.

“Yeah—mine feels like there’s a herd of elephants doing the conga!” shouted Jari, making Alex smile.

“My brain feels like it’s about to explode,” sighed Ellabell wearily.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all my memories before my tenth birthday,” grunted Aamir. “How are you?”

“Same.” Alex grimaced, rubbing his thumbs against his temples in a vain attempt to get them to stop hurting.

There was a welt at the back of his head, the swelling coming up beneath the skin like an egg as he rubbed the tender spot. Although he hurt and they were all suffering somewhat, it was nice to hear the others. It calmed him a little, as he sat up against the door—it was by far the driest spot in the cell.

Nobody talked much as they sat in isolation, seeing to their wounds. Alex had a few mystery bruises and scratches, brought on by their brutish transportation. There was one just above his right eyebrow that stung every time a bead of sweat ran into it, like squeezing lemon juice on a cut. All in all, though, he seemed to be in one piece.