Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) Read online

  The numbers begin their torturous etch, and I drop to my knees, screaming and lifting my eyes to West’s.

  “What is he doing?” Logan tries to run for me, but West draws his sword.

  “You shall die, and so shall your brother-…,”

  “Hold on, West- Roam, it’s me- we’re dreaming this together. Let her go!”

  “You dream?” The old man releases me, and I slide to the ground, staring at my arm. Coordinates, numbers I don’t recognize.

  “Asher,” I reach for his hand, gripping it lovingly. “West’s father.”

  “Find me, sweet child… I will help you…,”

  “Roam, I have to go,” Logan whispered, rousing me from the deep sleep. I sat up as I realized he was next to me. The sun was beginning to rise. “You have to distract the guards so I can slip out.”

  “Logan,” I held my arm out in front of me, staring at my skin.

  The numbers.

  Chapter Seven

  “Our dream… the old man gave you numbers.” Logan traced his fingers over my arm, cringing at the long cuts between the digits. “Who was he?”

  “West’s father… the one who created the spell… the prophecy.”

  “Really. I have a few choice words for him.”

  “Logan, he said find me.” I cleared my throat, still groggy from sleep. “But these aren’t coordinates…”

  Knocking interrupted us. He moved with me, slipping between the door and the wall as I turned the heavy lock. My maids hurried in, and the guards that stood on either side of my door stared at me.

  Will stood between them.

  “I have come to take you for breakfast and your first fencing lesson, your majesty.” He bowed, gesturing to my body. “But I see that you’re still in your sleeping gown.”

  The long, white, silken nightgown with an empire waist and cap sleeves did little to cover my skin. I held my finger up, meeting his eyes. “One minute, just let me throw on my jeans. I’m not wearing a gown for this.”

  “I can ask your maids to provide you with fencing attire,” he suggested. I glanced pointedly at the heavy door where Logan hid behind.

  “Could you… take over as guard here, and send these guys?” I pointed at each of the soldiers with my thumb.

  Will gave a lazy smile, nodding once. “Guards, fetch me two maids from apparel.”

  As they bowed and walked away, I smirked. “Apparel? It sounds like you have a Macy’s in the dungeon.”

  The reference was lost on him, and Logan rounded the door at that moment, saluting Will tersely before hurrying down the hallway.

  “While the cat’s away…,” he raised his eyebrows, and I protested his Machiavellian smile.

  “Knock it off. I was afraid last night. Logan only comforted me… stayed with me,” I clarified defensively. “Historically, I was quite the slut, but that’s not me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge the ‘historical you.’ Consider spending a lifetime with my father. Would you not turn to someone else for comfort?”

  “Probably, but I can’t even consider spending a lifetime with Troy without fashioning a noose.”

  He lowered his eyes to my body, and I moved to cover myself as he spoke. “You have… numbers on your arm.”

  All of my blood rushed from my head, and I slapped my hand over my forearm. “I…,”

  “8.24, 12.00. Those are prison numbers.”

  “Prison numbers?”

  “May I?” He reached for my arm, and I held it out to him tentatively. “Eight- eighth floor down. Twenty-four- twenty-fourth room. Twelve- prisoner number. Zero-zero… years to parole.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “Twelfth prisoner, life in prison, no parole. Where did you get this?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, sliding my fingertip over my arm. “Do you… stamp them? Tattoo your prisoners?”

  Will nodded. “Yes- just like this. Across their left, inner forearm.” He touched the cuts on my arm, and I winced. “You need to have these treated,” he added, meeting my eyes with a severe expression.

  The guards returned with two maids carrying freshly pressed, sleek white clothing. I ushered them in, moving to close the door. “Wait right here,” I told Will, not giving him a chance to answer.

  A prison number… a prisoner…

  Asher.

  I was dressed in minutes, shooing the maids away from my hair as I twisted the locks into a messy bun and pinned them to my head. The fencing uniform had a mock turtle neck, long pants, tall white, flat-soled boots, and a padded chest. Even with the layering, the outfit still felt lighter than the cumbersome gowns I’d been subjected to for weeks.

  When I opened the door again, Will leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “That was the fastest I have ever known a female to get dressed.”

  “Let’s go,” I walked with him down the long corridor and stairwell, pausing as he gestured to the great hall. Get a sword, find Asher. My mind ran on a singular track, and I could barely focus on walking instead of breaking into a full-on run.

  “Breakfast.”

  “Later,” I said quickly, impatient as he stopped.

  “Your majesty,” he ticked his tongue, chastising. “You need energy to fence, and you have a child to care for.”

  Taking a deep breath, I hurried to a plate of blueberry muffins. “Okay, I can eat and walk.”

  He surveyed the food, shrugging and taking a muffin as well. “Let’s go then.”

  Leading me to a round atrium with several hallways extending from the point in the circle, he pointed toward one in particular. “Now, what you need to know about the basics of fencing. First, do not tell my father that I’ve given you a sword.”

  I nodded. “Of course not.” I took a small bite of the muffin, and then tossed the remainder in a large, marble vase. He watched me, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

  “We’ll need to find the right weapon for you… In here,” he turned sharply to the right, pressing four numbers on a keypad to open a heavy door.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows doused the gymnasium-like room in warmth and light. Against the wall, in a long, locked cabinet, more than thirty swords hung from the walls in a display. “Now, this vest is called a lame,” he gathered a metallic vest from a cabinet near the swords, gesturing me toward him. “It covers the target area. It’s made of a material called Kevlar, from your world. In competition, it will register a touch from your opponent’s sword on a scoring machine.”

  “I’m not wearing that,” I scoffed, moving toward the case filled with swords. He dropped the vest, lifting his hand to another keypad next to the glass.

  “My queen-…,”

  “Roam.”

  “Roam,” he corrected, punching in a code. “A sword is a deadly weapon, even in competition. This type, for example, is called a foil. It weighs less than a pound. This is an epee, a descendant of the dueling sword, and I believe you should begin with…,”

  “Give me the saber,” I pointed at one well above both of our heads. “That one.”

  “You know about swords?”

  He stood at the corner of the cabinet, reaching for the long, shining blade with a deep, red grip. The silver guard curved to just above the back of my hand, and I wrapped my fingers around the weapon.

  “Choose one for yourself,” I murmured, weighing the saber in my hand.

  He watched me carefully, and then chose a saber similar to mine. “The saber is for thrusting- and cutting. Deadly.” He raised his sword to me, and I echoed his movement naturally. “You have fought with a sword before?”

  “Not in this life,” I blocked his blade with mine as he attacked, confident I could use the saber to obstruct his every move. “I remember… my soul remembers.”

  He lunged, and I blocked again, this time making a small circle with the tip of my blade to push his away.

  Raising his eyebrows, he moved to attack, and I retaliated by blocking and then advancing myself. He scurried backward, lowering his voi
ce to a command. “Stop!”

  I stepped back and pointed my sword at the ground, staring at my hand in awe.

  Me, the girl who faints and cries in fear, can wield a sword?

  “I know what I’m doing,” I mused, turning toward the bright windows. Five fencing dummies lined the alcove, each positioned with a dark, mesh mask similar to those that the guards wore. Metal arms jutted from just below the necks, attached to a spring-loaded sword. I advanced to one, lifting the arm with my sword, and the mechanical arm responded by flicking near my shoulder. Defending the move, I moved fluidly on my feet.

  I sensed that he was behind me before I turned. Dropping, I curled into a roll before lunging forward to leverage my jump off the window ledge. In seconds, I was behind him, and he turned to me, his sword raised.

  His grin turned to laughter. “You can roll with a sword. Hold on,” he turned and jogged back to the cabinet, pressing the code pad next to the glass. My jaw fell open as the entire cabinet began to shift inward, sliding to reveal an entryway to a secret room. He went inside, and I followed, taking in the array of weapons that lined the walls.

  I knew nothing about the names of the swords, the history of their creation, or even the proper terminology for the weapon’s parts, but I knew immediately which sword belonged to me… or the ‘me’ of the past.

  “The Kenauri-Rak,” he gestured to the one that I reached for, retrieving it and holding his hands out carefully. “In legend, my father had this sword forged for you as a wedding gift, knowing you were a master swordswoman. Thirty-four inches long… two pounds, six ounces.”

  “This is a samurai sword.” I held the black case in my left hand, wrapping my fingers around the grip with my right.

  “After the prophecy, my father brought this sword to your world, and made great profits selling the model to Japan.”

  “The Iga and Koga clans were historical enemies in Japan. Their shinobi warriors are what we call ninjas today. Ninjas were mercenary assassins… Samurai were Japanese knights.” I unsheathed the sword, my eyes catching an inscription on the black case.

  May we forever roam the world and rule together.

  “He intended to take over the entire world. Icepond would rule all other kingdoms.”

  “What was my name?” The sword’s handle was wrapped with rattan, and three small, gold ornaments adorned the grip.

  Will watched me carefully, his own saber tight in his hand. “Roamina.”

  My eyes flashed to his, and I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Took him long enough to find me,” I breathed, thinking about my mother and the strange fate that had her give me my name.

  Fate… or the B52’s.

  “He called you Mina.”

  I moved the sword slowly, the blade grabbing the sun streaming through the windows and scattering diagonal blasts of light over the walls and ceiling. Walking back to the dummy, I raised the sword over my shoulder and behind my neck with both hands. “I… remember… this sword.”

  “Wait-…,”

  Slicing through the air, the Kenauri-Rak hit the dummy’s head with precision, simultaneously sending the plastic skull and the spring-operated arm to the ground. “It’s like cutting through butter,” I murmured, staring at the damaged dummy, satisfied.

  “Before you destroy another dummy, remember- my father doesn’t know I’m allowing you in here.”

  “Oh, Will, I’m sorry,” I spun the sword in the air twice before retrieving the case. Sheathing the blade swiftly, I moved to the dummy. “Can I fix it? Should we…,”

  He stared at me and my hands, lowering his own sword. “Roam, in history, you were deadly with the Kenauri-Rak. My father planned to execute both you- and the knight you fell in love with- using this sword.”

  “But the prophecy saved us.” The warm sunlight revived my senses; I took a deep breath.

  “Your soul, yes.”

  “The books that I read here don’t detail the prophecy. What do you know about it?” I asked him, lowering to the floor to sit cross-legged. He watched me with a fleeting smile, mimicking my action and laying his sword next to him.

  “What do you already know?” He asked, stretching his long legs out over the floor.

  “That West and I have to have a baby, who will save our world. We have seven chances, and this is… was… our last,” I looked down at my lap, my fingers moving to my stomach.

  “You have no idea how the child will save your world, and end ours?”

  “All that I know… is that it’s not just her birth. When… Eva… was born, nothing changed, and Troy was still immortal.”

  He held out his hand, and I realized he was trying to help me up. I accepted his grasp, taking the Kenauri-Rak with me as I stood. “The hidden safe,” he murmured, pulling me toward the room. Once we were inside, he reached for inner keypad, turning to me. “My life is in your hands if I close this door. Can I trust you?”

  The irony of his words left me staring at him defensively. “I won’t hurt you,” I said, gesturing to the sword in my hand. “I was that deadly?”

  He punched in the key code. “You are that deadly. Even you have no idea what you are capable of.”

  I blew at a long strand of hair in front of my eye. “You will tell me about the prophecy?”

  Will nodded as the door to the secret chamber slid closed. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against a low cabinet, turning to me.

  “The world was split in two. The child of the scorned lovers will bring the sun back to Icepond. If the child dies in the seventh life, your world ends. If the child lives, the sun will overheat the land… until our world burns to ashes in two year’s time.”

  As I processed his words, I thought of the busy street in Russia where Logan told me the truth about West in 1977. The same harrowing feeling of betrayal had me grasping the sword, struggling to focus.

  His words hung in the air as I flattened my back against the wall.

  How does our child save the world?

  I don’t know… I’ve wondered that for centuries.

  Gasping, I covered my mouth with my hand. “All she has to do is… live.”

  “Your red-haired daughter.” He pointed to a tall window, where the sun shone brightly in the sky. “She lives, and so our world continues to heat… and will burn. It was prophesized to take two years… but astronomers are seeing evidence of a second sun. My father refuses to believe them… he is… blinded by his obsession for you, and his unborn child.”

  I stared at Will, shaking my head. “He’s not blind. He’s… waiting for his child to be born.” Covering my stomach, I doubled over, nausea brewing.

  Troy means to kill Eva within two years.

  “I can’t let that happen.” Will stared at me, as if waiting for me to draw a conclusion.

  As his words connected, I unsheathed the sword, readying myself for his attack. “You want to kill me… Troy, Troy’s child… and my daughter. You want to rule this kingdom.”

  Will nodded once, holding his index finger in the air with a small smile. “An obvious conclusion. If I were a barbarian, like my father.”

  Gripping the sword, I clenched my teeth. “What then?”

  He met my eyes, his blue stare so much like Troy’s. “I think you know. There is one man who created this dark spell, and one man who can alter- or destroy- it.”

  I took a deep breath, glancing down at my arm. “Asher?”

  Will’s eyes darkened. “Henry Asher sought to save you and your knight- and your unborn child- from execution. He possessed unpredictable, but powerful, magic. On the day of the execution, he was too late for you. Troy had you executed first, so that your knight and my uncle would watch.”

  My fingers wrapped at my neck. Sounds like good old Troy. “And Logan?”

  “Yes, Logan was next. Asher could only cast your souls immortal, and not your bodies.”

  “But West and Troy…,”

  “Your knight, cast immortal, was sent to the other world in infant form. He aged to t
wenty-seven. Once Asher made the spell, he found that Troy remembered everything, while the two of you knew nothing.”

  “The doors, the last life, all of that… West said that it was me who told him about the prophecy, long ago, on his twenty-seventh birthday. I was a red-haired gypsy, and I told him about the reincarnation, the Alters, the last life…,”

  “When Asher realized that his son knew nothing of the prophecy, he cast himself immortal and left to find his infant son in the other world.”

  “West’s family had died of the bubonic plague, and Asher… adopted him.”

  Will nodded. “He helped him study, and taught him everything he could in order to prepare him for the day he would finally tell him about the prophecy.”

  “But… someone set fire to their home, and Asher burned in his bed.”

  “Asher was immortal. My father and his men took him prisoner that night. His son escaped.”

  “Asher never had time… to tell him about the prophecy,” I slid down the wall, resting my arms over my knees. “So… I told him?”

  “No.” Will shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “He escaped from my father here, and traveled through time there to enlist the help of a young woman from the… future.”

  “Me,” I pictured myself on a dirt road, with masses of curly, red hair and my own bright, green eyes as I told West about the prophecy.

  “No,” he repeated. “The young woman who explained the prophecy to West… was his own daughter.”

  I narrowed my eyes, staring at the numbers on my arm. Slowly, his words began to unravel, and I held my breath. “Eva?”

  “Your own daughter. Eighteen years old.” He tilted his head slightly.

  “She lives to eighteen… that’s two years here,” I jumped to my feet, gripping the sword. “But you said the second sun is coming, and this world is already heating quickly…,”

  Will stood as well, slowly crossing the room to stand only inches from me. He gave me a knowing smile, gesturing to my stomach. “Exactly. I made sense of it all last night. The child that you carry isn’t my father’s child, nor is it Logan’s. That child belongs to your knight.”