13. Owen

Owen

"It's been two hours, and I still can't believe we're looking for that damn Wielder," Colt said.

Brom made a face. "Look, if I didn't owe him my life, I'd leave him too."

"He could have up and left on his own instead."

"He wouldn't have left his pallet and bag."

"But he took his Core," Colt protested.

Owen tried to tune out his companions as he looked in the direction he thought Elian had gone. They'd woken up two hours prior to find him absent, his belongings still on the ground. They had given him a few minutes in case he was in the woods relieving himself, but after twenty, they all packed up and began to search for him, following what Owen was sure was Elian's broken trail of footsteps in the mud. Now, they were stuck taking turns carrying the Wielder's bag and the wet boots he'd left behind. Clove was also gone, but Owen was used to her coming and going from their group.

But that wasn't all. For the first time since Owen had sensed Elian's cinnamon energy in Emberton, he couldn't sense it now. He'd gotten hold of it a few times, a scent here or there that was gone within seconds, but he also found the energy in the air so frazzled, he could hardly make out Colt's or Brom's energies either.

To make matters worse, they had another troubling development. The deep maroon clouds had appeared on the horizon again. The same smoky hand that reached for them in the Unseen Vale was moving slowly in their direction. Owen wondered if Elian's disappearance had to do with the red smoke. It was good they were moving. Mordren was coming.

Where are you, stupid Wielder?

Of course, they could leave him behind. But it wasn't the right thing to do, and even Colt knew that, even if he didn't want to admit it. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Let's keep on," Owen finally said. "We have to assume he didn't leave by his own choice. We need the Wielder to get to Fort Arrowcrest."

Colt and Brom went quiet and followed behind Owen, their weapons out. The only thing Colt had besides his bow was a knife, and Brom had taken a sword from the guard post.

After a while, they came to a tree where Owen got a whiff of the Wielder's energy. He looked around it, seeing signs of a struggle in the leaves, and then he froze when he saw blood.

"Gods," Brom said, stepping around. "Elian?"

"Yes…" Owen looked up at Colt, who scanned the area."Something happened to him, but he's still alive."

"Are you sure?" Brom asked.

"If I've connected with someone's energy, I can tell when their life has ended. Elian is still alive."

They all glanced at each other, then Owen caught something on the ground. He squinted as he bent down and picked it up. It was a purple bracelet, the bands all woven into each other to make a pattern.

"This was Elian's." Owen cocked his head as his eyes followed a trail that led through the trees, as if someone had been dragged .

"If he's still alive, then he's in trouble," Colt said.

"We have to find him. We made a plan to get to Fort Arrowcrest and alert Luthien about what's happening. We can't do that without him."

Owen started forward, but Colt came in front of him and halted him.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" Colt asked.

"We just did." Owen looked at him pointedly.

"Let's make a plan first," Brom said. "As Gilda would say."

For some reason, Owen's blood simmered upon hearing these words. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the constant pain in his body. Or the fact they had little time to get help from the Legion, who was still his enemy. Or perhaps it was simply his guilt at losing Gilda.

When Owen heard a whimper nearby, he looked over to find Clove emerging from the bushes. He bent down to her as she neared him. "Where have you been, girl? Are you alright?"

She whimpered again, as if she could sense something was wrong. He closed his hand around Elian's bracelet, then brought it up to Clove. She sniffed it, then got to her feet and trotted past the tree. She turned around and barked at them to follow.

"Alright," Owen said, looking back at Colt and Brom. "She's going to take us to him."

They walked for about half an hour, following Clove through the woods, until Owen smelled smoke. After a few more minutes, he stopped and pointed up at it, and Colt and Brom looked ahead. Owen put his fingers to his lips before they crept around the trees. In a clearing stood a few huts made of sticks and stones. A man sat near a cookfire, stirring something in a pot placed directly on hot coals, while another walked around the clearing with a bow in his hand. They wore furs around their shoulders, and both of them had necklaces made of some kind of bone.

"What do we do?" Brom whispered.

"Elian's here," Owen said. "And from the feel of this place, he's not safe."

"Fuck, I'm having flashbacks of Brom's old clan back in Milarc." Colt put a hand to his head.

Owen grabbed Colt's wrist and put a finger to his lips. Then he gestured for them to retreat. "This is bad," he whispered, as they drew far enough away out of sight. "We'll need to make a plan to find the Wielder—"

The ground suddenly gave way, and they all stumbled into each other as a giant hole in the earth opened up before them. Owen hit the ground hard. He shook his head and tried to sit up. When his vision cleared, he saw the trees above him again, along with two men staring down from above. Then a giant net was thrown over them all.

Clove barked and growled from above, and then Owen heard her yelp and go quiet. Colt tried to cut the net with his knife, but something else was thrown over them, only this time, it weighed Owen down to the ground, and he couldn't move at all. They looked like the weighted nets that fishermen used to catch fish.

Four men surrounded the hole from above. Two of them came down, and when one covered Owen's mouth with a cloth through a hole in the net, Owen struggled, but the weight over him was too much. Before he could release his Essence, his mind wavered. It felt as if his mind was in a deep haze, as if he'd drunk several mugs of alcohol and he couldn't make sense of which way was up and which way was down.

"Colt…" he whispered, his speech slurred.

The minutes went by slowly, as Owen went in and out of consciousness. When his mind began clearing more, he found himself being dragged. The leaves beneath him shuffled, and when he hit a tree root, he winced. Looking up, he found darkness. It was nighttime. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of where the pain in his body was coming from. He couldn't figure out why his mind felt so dizzy and out of sorts.

Someone jerked him forward, and Owen cried out as his ribs struck something hard. After a few minutes, he stopped, and his feet hit the ground. Turning onto his side, Owen grasped at plush dirt. No, it wasn't night. He was in some sort of cave, and it was dark.

Blinking, his eyes darted lazily around a room. Candles lined the walls, and pointed stakes were driven into the ground in one place. Two men stood before him, garbed in dark trousers with animal hides around their shoulders. One of them wore a deer skull on his head, and the other was blond-haired with his head shaved on the sides.

The blond-haired man nudged Owen with his boot. "He looks too skinny, Julien. Should we just cut him?"

"Nah, we'll beef him up," Julien said. "We can use those other two first. Then him and the Wielder."

Blinking, Owen tried to make sense of their conversation. He grunted as the blond grabbed him and pushed him against a dirt wall. The man tied his feet together, but when he went to pull his arms around, Owen struggled against him. "Damn, he's strong. Give him more of that juice. It'll knock him out for a while."

"He's not going anywhere." Julien squatted before Owen and pulled off the deer skull, revealing black hair and dark eyes. "Are you? I've got your other three mates, so if you try anything, they' re dead."

Owen went still at this.

"See there?" Julien laughed before getting to his feet.

"And what about the other one?"

Owen followed the man's gaze across the room and made out a blurry shape lying on the ground.

"I'm sure he'll wake up soon, Drey." Julien made his way over to the pallet—no, it wasn't a pallet, but a body. It was Elian's body.

Owen opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. His mind was still fuzzy, and he could barely think straight. He tried to move, but his legs felt like jelly, the strength in them gone. He didn't know where Colt or Brom were, but he could sense their energies. They were nearby. He had to figure out a plan to find them and get out of this place.Owen closed his eyes, his mind wavering.

"Dal should be back by now," Drey said. "I'm getting a bit worried."

"He's out making sure there are no more in their group. You know, since that quake happened, things have gotten weird… but this is a godsend ."

Shaking his head, Owen tried to reach up for… what? To fight? No, he couldn't. He could hardly even think of a plan with whatever drug was in his system. His mind was too fogged, his head hurt, and his left hip was in pain from hitting it so many times.

Despite the adrenaline flooding his veins, he leaned his head back against the dirt wall, closed his eyes, and dozed.

When Owen woke, he blinked several times. He was still lying in the dirt. Across the floor, he saw the rusty bars of a cell with a few rods gone. Rope was bound tightly around his wrists, and his body was cold. After a few minutes, he tried to sit up, but his effort got him nowhere, and he lay still instead, his mind slowly clearing.

When someone groaned nearby, he held his breath. Someone was lying in the cell next to him, a familiar energy. Not Colt, nor Brom, but Elian. Muffled laughter echoed along the cave ceiling, and then someone walked toward him with a dim light—a torch. Owen closed his eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

"He's good," someone said, their voice low. Then they walked back out.

Owen's eyes popped open again, and he stared at what looked like a dirt roof. The air was stuffy, and his face was hot. He swallowed, but there was barely any spit. He tried to move, but winced as a sharp pain shot up his right arm. Even with his Horgg wound sealed, he must have had a tender area that wasn't fully healed.

His place of captivity looked like a cave, but there were bars to make up cells and stones to pave a path through any tunnels. His head was heavy after being drugged. Gods, was he tired of that…

The ground was hard beneath him as he lay on his left side. His hand clasped at the plush dirt, trying to get a feel for this place. He closed his eyes and tuned his energy into the ground, the cave, the people outside. It was the first time he'd ever used his energy to try and see what was surrounding him, and from the feel of it, they were in a small encampment with only a few living souls. Likely, the camp they saw in the clearing before they were captured. The cave wasn't deep. He could feel the trees and life at the surface close by.

When footsteps approached again, Owen narrowed his eyes to appear asleep. Two men went into Elian's cell, which lacked a door. The chains were what kept him inside the thing, and from the looks of it, Elian looked barely conscious.

"Get those chains off," someone muttered; it sounded like that man, Julien.

Elian grunted, and then there was a struggle as they released Elian's chains from his hands. The Wielder tried to fight back, but Julien cursed and hit him, sending him to the dirt. Muffled voices echoed off the ceiling of the room, and then there was laughter.

Owen wanted to block his ears from the horror he was hearing in the next cell, but he couldn't move. He was too sluggish. Tears pricked his eyes. Then the sounds stopped, and the men left. Several minutes went by, and Owen heard Elian taking deep breaths, perhaps sobbing.

Blinking, Owen looked over, through the missing bars. It took him several minutes to sit up and scoot himself over. When he peered through, he found Elian lying half-naked in the dirt.

Owen's eyes widened in horror.

There was nothing beyond their two cells, and it seemed they were the only two in the cave. There was one lone torch on the wall across from them, but nothing was barring Owen from getting up and leaving.

He felt for Colt's and Brom's energies, as he had before when he'd first been dragged in here, and he found them close. He could get out, use his Essence, get them, and leave. But…

Looking back, Owen whispered, "Elian."

The Wielder moved his head, then tried to open his eyes, but they were thin slits, and when they looked at him, they were distant. Then he closed them again and stopped moving.

"Wake up!"

When the Wielder didn't stir, Owen looked over at the cave entrance where the other men had left and emerged from. His stomach growled, but even if he could eat, he wasn't sure he wanted to. His lips were cracked and dry, and the smell of urine stained the area around him.

It was now or never. These men thought Owen was still asleep, but they didn't know he was Astran, and any poison or drugs he took wore off faster than any normal person. But he had to get out of here with Elian. That's why he'd come here in the first place, and by the gods, he was going to get him out.

Owen stared at the torch on the wall, feeling its heat in his eyes. He didn't witness Gilda's cruel death and open the Gate just to watch his other companions succumb to whatever these grotesque men had planned.

Fire flowed through him, and when he let it out, the rope around his wrists burned off without scorching his skin. He marveled at the power of his Dark Flame—perhaps it was a gift, after all. Something that could harm or heal, something that could aid him.

When someone came back into the tunnel, Owen placed his arms behind his back and waited. It was Julien, wearing his deer skull and carrying a tray of food. He took one look in Owen's direction and smiled.

"Oh, good." Julien flashed his rotten teeth as he crouched before Owen. "Was hoping you'd wake up soon. Got you a nice meal here. "

Owen looked down at the bowl of vegetable stew and stale bread. There was a cup of milk too, and an apple. A heavy meal for a prisoner.

"Eat up." Julien licked his lips and growled. "Just like a good dog." When the man rose to his feet and turned, Owen moved his arms and struck the man down with a powerful blow of his Essence.

Julien hit the other side of the wall with a gasp. Owen pinned him against it with his right hand, his fingers tingling in pain, but still he held him with a good grip. He fixed his eyes on the man as he brought up his other hand, but he didn't let his fire out just yet. He couldn't chance the man screaming. Instead, he tightened his hold around Julien's neck until he went limp, and then Owen released him with a huff.

Owen's left hand felt the vibrations of the room as someone else came in. He let his body heat, prepared for whoever was about to step in. It was the blond-haired man. When he saw Owen, his eyes widened, and his hand went for the knife on his belt.

Owen reached out with his Essence, almost feeling his hands wrapped around the tunic on his chest. He slammed him against the wall until his skull cracked. With two men out of the way now, Owen moved around to the cell where Elian was. He dressed the Wielder as quickly as possible, then sat Elian up with a grunt.

"Come on, Wielder," Owen said. "Work with me here."

Elian's eyes opened, and he looked around. When he saw the dead men lying in the cave, he slung his arm around Owen's shoulders and held on. Owen grabbed his wrist, then gasped when he saw Elian's right hand was missing three fingers. Instead, a bandage was wrapped tightly over his knuckles, exposing his remaining fingers.

He helped Elian to his feet, who was now conscious enough to walk, but the man was weak and pale, as well as sweating. No doubt he was in an immense amount of pain. They shuffled their way through the tunnels, Elian leaning heavily against Owen.

When they came to a divide in the tunnel, Owen stopped. One went to the left and the other led outside, as light shone down the way. Sensing Colt and Brom down the left tunnel, Owen made his way with Elian until he reached a curtain. He leaned Elian against the wall, and the man grimaced.

"Stay here," he told the Wielder. "I have to get Colt and Brom."

"Not on your own," Elian started, his voice hoarse.

"You're in no position to help."

Elian managed to grab Owen's arm and fixed him with his eyes. "These men are dangerous. They'll hurt you."

Something clicked in Owen's mind at the concern etched on the Wielder's face, but he could face whatever lay beyond the curtain.

"Stay here," he whispered again. "Shout if you need help."

Owen moved away before Elian could protest again and drew back the curtain enough to peek through. Inside was the man with the ram's skull on his head, wearing a leather apron. Another man held a butcher's knife and a strange-looking mask over his mouth and nose.

"Get the first one out, Dal," the butcher said, his voice muffled.

When the big brute of a man in the ram's skull opened a door and pulled someone out, a struggle ensued. It was Colt, and he drove the boar of a man into one of the long tables. Owen bolted through the curtain before the other man could come around to join the fray. His eyes focused on the man with the butcher's knife and he grabbed hold of him with his Essence.

Owen wrenched the knife out of his hand violently, snapping his wrist with a sickening crunch. The man screamed and staggered back, and Owen sent a blast that thumped him against the wall. He crumpled to the floor and went still.

Now Owen had Dal's attention. After kicking Colt to the ground, Dal turned and laughed, then strode right for Owen. But Owen was ready.

He summoned his fire, but it didn't burst from his hands as it always did. Instead, it was an intense heat he cast on his enemy. Dal's steps faltered as he began to sweat, and then the man let out several rough breaths as Owen pushed the fire from his mind into Dal's body. Dal pulled the skull from his face and clawed at his skin before searching for something, perhaps water, before he fell to the floor and screamed. Owen pushed further, until the man's skin grew red and blistered. And then Owen's eyes widened in horror as purple fire engulfed Dal from the inside.

Owen stumbled back against the wall, watching as the man screamed from what he had done. Then a blade punctured the man's chest, and Owen jumped. Steel jutted out, and the man's head went limp, his screams suddenly cutting off. Behind him, Colt eased the man to the floor, then looked up at Owen with a worried glance.

Crossing to him, Colt embraced him, holding him tightly. "Are you alright?" He pulled away, and when their eyes met, Owen shook his head.

"I-I didn't mean to do that. I don't even know how…" Owen looked over at the man on the floor, breathing rapidly, but Colt took his chin and turned it back to face him .

"It's okay. Owen, it's okay," Colt reassured him, and Owen nodded, staying against the wall while Colt moved around the table to the other cell where Brom was locked up. Their companion had been watching intently, his eyes wide as he stood before the bars, waiting.

"That was intense," Brom said as Colt opened the door and let him out.

"Elian is outside the room," Owen told them, his voice shaking. He avoided looking at the mess he'd made. He felt sick now, but there wasn't anything in his stomach to come up. Instead, he dry-heaved, and then steadied himself as he made his way out.

After collecting Elian, they all made their way up the tunnels until they hit daylight. Outside, the camp was empty. A pot over a low crackling fire sent out smoke. Nearby, they found Clove tied to a post, barking, and Colt set her loose. She ran up to them, sniffing them all before whimpering and pawing at Elian.

"Shh!" Brom said, glancing around. "If there are any more of those men, she'll draw them to us."

"Calm down, girl," Owen said, bending down before her.

Thankfully, she quieted. Everything else was eerily quiet, and from the light of the sky, they were approaching evening. Had they been in this place all day?

"The Wielder has a fever." Brom touched the man's face. "His skin is like fire."

"We can't afford to wait around. More of these men could be on their way back to camp," Colt pointed out.

They all hesitated a moment, and then it came to Owen. He knew what he had to do. Part of him didn't want to. Part of him still wanted Elian to suffer as he had. But despite all Owen had been through—losing his family, losing Gilda, being born cursed—he knew he couldn't let Elian die. He'd killed the men in this camp to survive, but he'd killed them quickly. And then what he had done to Dal…

What a horrible thing I did. I didn't even know I was capable of it.

Looking up, Owen said, "Set him down."

Brom's eyes widened. "What are you going to do?"

Colt glanced at him curiously, hands on his hips as he waited.

Owen looked down at Elian as the man trembled, and he suddenly saw Gilda, whom he could never go back and heal. But this man?

"I'm going to heal him."