Aurelious Forty; Volume Two

By Dianna Beirne

It would have been better if Aurelious Forty had died.

Well that’s what he thinks, though he may not be thinking clearly. It’s hard to be rational when the world you just fell in love with, crumbles around you. But it’s his world and no matter how disastrous it has become, he still has to find a way to live in it.

The burden of Aurelious’ life is magnified when he discovers answers to questions he never wanted to ask and a reality he never imagined he would have to face. His life changes once again, and this time, there will be shattering, collateral damage.
This time, someone won’t survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dianna Beirne
• Release date: Dec 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9780986327131

Book preview

Chapter One

You know it's going to be a bad day when you wake up with a headache so crushing that you can hardly open your eyes. This day would not be an exception to that. This day was the first day that I woke up in the presence of the Inglore.

I can remember some parts of the journey that he took me on when he abducted me from my family, from Anira the girl I desperately loved, from Danyon my best friend, and from Brekwyn my mentor, friend, and surrogate older brother. Brekwyn was the person who saved me from my nothing life as the Gadje I never should have been. Together with Danyon and Anira and all of the Baliel tribe, they made my new life as a Gypsy more incredible then I could've dared to imagine.

It was midday when the Inglore captured me but shortly after that I was drugged. I would only experience bits and pieces of consciousness in between feeling the sting of the needle in my arm administering the toxin that kept me asleep. I remember seeing darkness and then daylight again. I remember being jostled by the movement of the van that took me away. I also remember smelling salty sea air at some point and feeling rolling movement like we were traveling on the water.

The bottom line is that I had no idea where I was or how long it had been since they had taken me. The only thing I knew for sure was that I felt physically terrible, sicker than I had ever felt. My body was bruised, my head was pounding, my mouth felt like it was full of sand, my throat burned from the bile that rose up in it, and my stomach was nauseous.

But I was no longer in a moving vehicle. I was lying on a bed. At least it seemed like a bed from how it felt without opening my eyes. I pretended to be asleep to avoid another dose of the drugs. I thought I was pulling it off so I was startled by the voice that came from somewhere very close to me, clearly not falling for my act.

I'm sorry you feel so bad. I don't like seeing you uncomfortable but I think that being asleep made the trip easier for you. There was no struggle, no burden of emotion.

I recognized the Inglore's voice. His accent was distinctive to me now, forever engrained into my brain. He wasn't fooled into thinking I was asleep yet, somehow aware of how I felt, he spoke softly to avoid making my head hurt worse. Why would he care about my comfort after just brutally ripping me from the family that I had grown to know and love? This dichotomy confused me so I could only assume his compassion was false, some kind of ploy to get me to forgive him for what he had done.

I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dim, lit only by two candles, one on a table next to the bed I was lying on and one on the small table next to the chair where he sat watching me. I looked at him and said nothing. He sat forward in the chair resting his elbows on his knees, he had his head down but eyes looking up at me. His long, black hair was pushed over to the left side, the ends of it falling over his left forearm. He had no expression on his face.

You'll feel better soon and you'll grow more comfortable here, he said to me. Then he looked away and said to someone I couldn't see, Give him some broth.

I heard movement from the darkness of what I assumed was a doorway and then a round woman wearing an apron appeared with a tray. On it there was a bowl of broth, a piece of crusty bread, and some kind of drink. I looked at it but made no attempt to receive it. Did he think I was going to eat something after he gave me all those drugs? Did he think I wouldn't assume he drugged the food too? So, like a scorned child, I rolled over and faced the wall.

It's okay Boy, I understand that you're upset. But in time you'll come to realize that this is where you belong. The food I provide for you is to nourish you, to help you regain your strength. I could hear him getting up from the chair and moving through the shadows. Come, leave the tray. He'll eat when he's ready, he said to the woman and with that I heard a door open, close, and lock.

Chapter Two

I fell asleep again almost as soon as he left. I was too weak and sick to try to find my way out of this place, wherever this place was, and the sleep, which forced itself on me wouldn't allow me to even try to escape. Instead, the sleep itself became my respite from the overwhelming physical and mental pain that consumed me.

I woke later to see that the gentle flicker of only one candle remained. The other had burned itself out in my slumber. It was hard to see anything in the room. But I remember seeing someone. I couldn't describe her other than to say that it was a woman who appeared to have blonde hair. The lightness of her hair was noticeable in the darkened room. I couldn't focus on her though, she was in and out of the light in just a second and I was too groggy to search for her. My eyes demanded to be shut again and I was powerless to my exhaustion.

You must eat Boy, I heard her whisper with an accent like the Inglore's. Please eat. Maybe I was dreaming.

And then I heard the door once more, open, close, lock.

Chapter Three

The next time I woke it was because of the growling in my stomach. I opened my eyes to see that the two candles had been replaced with new ones. There was a silver tray on the table next to my bed with bread and a cup of water. I was cold but my skin was clammy like I'd been sweating. My shirt was damp. I didn't have any shoes or socks on so I felt the coolness of the stone floor as I slowly swung my feet around to sit up and eat. At that point if the food was laced with something I wouldn't have even cared, I was too hungry to be concerned.

I was dizzy when I sat up which only made me feel worse. I closed my eyes again until the whirring in my ears and shifting of my consciousness passed. It barely passed. I was starving but I was desperate to get the grit out of my mouth so I reached for the water, and like a fool drank the whole cup at once. Then I reached for the bread and ate it like I hadn't eaten in days, which was probably accurate. As soon as I had three large mouthfuls of the bread, I threw up all over the floor and myself. It came up so quickly that I didn't even have time to lean over. I ate and drank too fast for my feeble body to process. With shaky hands I weakly took off my shirt, used it to wiped the vomit off my pants, then tossed it into the gelatinous, steaming splatter that had reached the floor and fell weakly back to sleep, the stinging smell of puke surrounding me.

Chapter Four

Someone was wiping my body with a warm, wet sponge. The disgusting smell of my insides was gone, replaced by something more soothing, something clean.

You shouldn't be here, Inglore said gently. He wasn't talking to me.

He's only a boy, he needs to be taken care of, this from the same soft female voice that urged me to eat some time earlier. Don't you remember when you were this young?

I was a far different teenager than he is.

I guess that's true. But you lost the one caring for you when you were not much younger than this, you should've had someone else to take her place. He needs someone too. He didn't respond, she continued, Something's wrong with him, Inglore. Do you see how off color he is? I think he has a fever, he trembles but his skin is so hot. I could hear the concern in her voice as she gently pushed my wet hair off my forehead.

I'll alert the healer, I heard him say and then I heard him leave.

Don't worry Boy, we'll take care of you, she whispered, wiping my neck with the damp sponge. I opened my eyes for a moment to see her but my eyes were too heavy and all I could see was the blonde hair and a blurry vision of her pale face before I had to close them again.

I fell asleep as she pulled a sheet over my shivering body.

Chapter Five

He isn't well, Inglore, I heard a man's voice say pensively. Their accents were all the same, so here it would be me that had the accent. He'll need treatment. The drugs you gave him were powerful and need to get out of his body.

The atmosphere in the room changed, the Inglore spoke more loudly, more forcefully, You are the damned healer, fix him! I heard something break, I heard the Inglore pacing around the room.

We need to get him into a hot bath with salts to extract the toxins. But Inglore, you must prepare yourself, he may not pull out of this. He's having a very bad reaction to those Gadje drugs. I cannot be sure if our Gypsy remedies can counteract what they've done. Perhaps we should have considered his lineage when we determined the dosage, perhaps we should have considered the possibility of his body's overreaction. What did that mean?

Fix this boy or there will be hell to pay, the Inglore ordered through what sounded like clenched teeth.

I will have the bath prepared immediately, the healer replied.

I heard the mumble of orders being given and then felt myself being lifted out of the bed and carried somewhere. I could hear the water running and feel that the air was getting heavier with the damp heat. I smelled the sweet scent of the salts in the water. Someone was taking off what remained of my clothes and then I was lowered into the bath.

The water was hot, burning hot. My bruised, tender skin felt like it was immediately on fire. Instinctively I opened my eyes and tried to get up, get out of the water as quickly as I could. I looked around frantically, the Inglore was beside me, his shirt was wet, he was the one who put me in the bath.

He must stay in the tub, the properties of the salts and the heat of the water will extract the toxins through his skin. Hopefully. I saw the man saying this; he stood in the corner, nervously chewing on his lower lip, tugging on the green suspenders that held up his baggy brown pants. His expression was anxious and apprehensive as he looked over the top of his small round glasses, fogged up by the steam in the room. He must've been the healer.

I struggled to get out but I had no strength so it was a meaningless attempt. Shhh, Boy, the Inglore whispered as he held my shoulders down in the tub. I felt his breath and the stubble from his chin on my ear, We're trying to make you better.

Then you shouldn't have taken me from my family. I was better there, I hissed. These were the first words I had spoken, they came out like gravel and stung my raw throat but it made me feel stronger to say them, if only for a second.

That's the fighting spirit that I'm looking for. Keep fighting Boy, but don't fight me, fight to get stronger, he spoke softly, slowly loosening his grip around my body as I gave in and sunk, exhausted, back into the bath. The struggle was too much for me and I was soon asleep again with the Inglore holding my head above the water.

The cold air shocked me awake when the Inglore lifted me out of the tub sometime later. My weakness commanded me to allow them to dry and dress me in clothes I didn't recognize. Too frail to protest, I was forced to let everything happen to me, to let them take care of the very basic and personal needs I should've been able to take care of myself if I wasn't so incapacitated. All I could do was keep my eyes closed, if I couldn't see them, their faces, their expressions, then this would all be less humiliating, but only slightly less.

The clothes they put on me were comfortable, warm, and soft and felt good against my aching body. The good was a recognizable feeling that I pushed away, determined to be miserable, it was just easier that way. I was helped back to the bed, which had been made with fresh, clean sheets. There was a new tray on the table, this one again with water and bread and another bowl of broth.

Drink and eat slowly Boy, said the man whom I determined was the healer, just a few slow sips and small bites. Your stomach needs time to get adjusted to the food you put in it or it will be rejected as it was before.

I said nothing in response but took a small sip of water and a spoonful of warm broth. It was salty and soothing as I swallowed it. I felt every drop of fluid coating every inch of my mouth and throat. I swear I could even feel it hit my stomach, warming me from the inside out. I felt slightly more alert, less foggy, but being awake only made me notice the aches and bruised feeling of my body even more.

Being awake made me remember the excruciating pain I felt in my soul as I was dragged away from Anira and Danyon, the three of us screaming in agony, our hearts breaking. I was reminded of the helpless feeling of trying to wake Brekwyn as the drug from the dart coursed through his veins. Tears came to my eyes and despite my efforts to keep them inside, they disobeyed me and fell down my cheeks. Each round, wet traitor carrying away any hope I had left as they dropped into oblivion off the edge of my pathetic, quivering chin.

No one said anything to me although I'm sure they saw my pain. They said nothing to each other either but quietly left me alone in my cell with my twisted memories forcing me back to sleep.

Open, close, lock.

Chapter Six

The bath must've worked. I still felt awful, my body still ached, my head still hurt but I was able to stay awake longer and eat more each time my tray was brought in. The healer came back twice to check my progress, mumbling something to the Inglore who always stood over his shoulder watching his every move as he took my pulse, checked for fever, and looked into my eyes. I didn't speak a word to either of them, even if they asked a question as simple as, 'Are you feeling better?' Why should I make this easier for them, why should I alleviate their worries? The blonde haired woman didn't come back but maybe she was never really there, a delusion manufactured by my fever.

There was nothing for me to do in my waking hours but look around my room and think. The room was impressive with its stone floor and walls and long planks of dark wood for a ceiling. A window was the only interruption in the intricate pattern of grey and beige rectangular blocks and that window was covered with a dark blue curtain, which allowed only a vague filtered light to come through during the day. My bed had a metal frame and a blue, red, and yellow quilt. It was soft and warm and I refused to enjoy it.

There were three doors at the opposite end of the room, I saw people coming in and out of the middle door but I wasn't strong enough to get up and see where the others led, not yet. And when I stopped looking at the details of this cell then I was forced to think, to relive what happened to me and to wonder how long I had been here and where the hell Brekwyn was?

Every time a person came in, I quickly took a deep breath, meditated away all of my surroundings and did a reading on them. They never knew I was doing it because I was in and out of the reading before they could even blink. Time only passed in my alternate reality, never in my physical reality, not anymore. I always looked for decisions they had to make, to try to figure out what kind of people they were, to see if I could manipulate them or use my gift to escape when I was stronger. But no one ever made a decision. They came into my room for one purpose, bring food or candles, check my vital signs, and then leave, that's it.

It was always the same woman who brought in my food. Her grey hair flecked with a few brown reminders of her youth framed her round face in short curls. Her expression was always caring, always concerned, and always kind. She never asked me any questions, never tried to get me to speak but sometimes I would catch her watching me with a far off look in her eyes, eyes which sometimes seemed ready to fill with tears. Much like mine.

I needed to get some answers and I knew it wasn't realistic to never speak to anyone while I was here. So this woman felt like the safest option. There were things I had to know.

How long have I been here? I asked when she brought in my next tray. My voice was hoarse and thick. I was looking at the curtained window above my bed, not at her, but I could tell by her hesitation that she was surprised when I finally spoke.

You've been here for just over two weeks Child, she said softly as she put the tray on the table next to the chair.

Two weeks? I turned to her, my head pounding from the swift movement. Could it have been that long? My heart started to race. Had Brekwyn come to rescue me and been unsuccessful? Was there a war raging right then and there between this tribe that stole me and the Baliel tribe that was surely trying to save me? What the hell has been happening for the last two weeks? I was immediately confused. Two weeks is not an insignificant amount of time, especially when it's an amount of time that you've lost.

She saw my distress and came toward me, her arms slightly outstretched as if she intended to give me a hug. I instinctively put my hand up to stop her. How could I allow my captors to comfort me, even if I suddenly, desperately needed it?

She stopped and nervously smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in her clean, white apron. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me? she whispered as if she didn't want anyone to hear.

Yes, a million things, but I don't trust you, No, I said gruffly, please leave.

Her shoulders slumped with disappointment but she obeyed my request and left me alone again.

Open, close, lock.

Chapter Seven

What's your name? I asked her when she brought in my next tray.

I'm called Beelah, she said as I sat up in my bed. I've added a sweet cake tonight, I think it might help you put some weight back on, maybe feel a bit better. She smiled gently at me.

Thanks, I muttered as insincerely as possible. Where do those other two doors lead? I took a spoon full of the broth and noticed that she added noodles and carrots this time.

The one on the right, she pointed, is your wardrobe and the one on the left is a water closet. I looked at her perplexed by water closet, so she clarified, It's a bathroom. Oh right.

Who's been taking care of me these past two weeks? You?

Me, yes, but Inglore as well. He's been with you most of the time. She stood straighter as if she was proud of him but hearing his name only infuriated me.

Well he wouldn't have had to do that if he just left me where I was. I tossed my spoon onto my tray disgusted by the thought of him and folded my arms across my chest like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

In time you'll see that it was for the best, she said and then absently tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I immediately felt comforted by the gesture but I jerked my head away and looked at her as if she was crazy for showing affection. She was, after all, just a