From Cold Ashes Risen (The War Eternal Book 3)

by Rob J. Hayes

  The loneliness ate away at my resolve. I realise now I have never been good at being alone. I had never been alone before. Not since leaving Keshin all those years ago. I was alone now. Ssserakis continued to ignore me, but my horror was there. I could feel it, feel the chill of it. It was not gone, but it had abandoned me. That loneliness did more to break me than anything the Emperor ever tortured me with. Almost. That statement is almost true.

  How long had it been? Long enough that my nails, ripped from my hand on that first day, had grown back. That the sky and sun and moons were a fading memory. My clothes had turned to sweat stained rags that barely covered me. Long enough that the Emperor had torn all but one of his precious screams from me. He seemed disappointed every day. Every day he couldn't find that final scream, and every day it made him more vicious.

  The Grave Watch escorted me to my torture chamber once more. I knew their names now. Rork, the tall one with a bushy moustache. Picklesten, the man of few words and few teeth. Clews, the shortest of the three and the one with the quickest tongue. They no longer joked at my expense. I think, in some way, I had earned their respect. I never tried to run from them or fight them, mostly because I knew it would do no good. I did not attempt to bargain or threaten. I did not make their job any more difficult. Each day I walked to my torture, and some days, those I could, I walked away from it. It really depended on what the Emperor had done to me. Despite the torture, despite the scars and the injuries that have never fully healed, despite the pain and humiliation. Despite it all, I persevered. How long had it been? I do not know. Long enough to earn the respect of some of the most hardened soldiers in the Terrelan military. Long enough their mocking stares turned to pitying looks. They strapped me into my chair, as they did every day, and then took their positions. They might have learned to respect me, but they were still my captors, and I was still a prisoner in the process of being tortured to death.

  Torture is a delicate art, or so I've been told by those with the knowledge of it. Everyone breaks, given enough time and pain to do so. But in order to extract information from someone, it is important to take just enough from them. They need to give up, to lose themselves and all hope of escape, but they cannot lose the will to live. It's important to leave them with that, or they have no reason to give the torturer what they want. Of course, that's a moot point when information is not the goal. When the goal is to convince the subject to take their own life, the torturer can take as much as they want, do as much as they want. All they need to leave the poor soul with, is enough of themselves left to take the final act of release.

  Prena entered the room first, as always. Her position as First Sword was lost to her when the Iron Legion took Neverthere. Now she was the Emperor's bodyguard, following him around and paying witness to every monstrous action the man took. Aras Terrelan swept in behind her, a frown on his rugged features.

  "The people are restless, Eska," the Emperor said. "That's what your friends call you, isn't it? I had a wonderful chat with that big one earlier. He resisted, I'll give him that, but somewhere in all the screams his tongue loosened. Oh, the things he told me about you."

  A younger version of myself would have damned Hardt for the betrayal, for revealing my secrets to the worst of my enemies. I was not that young, foolish girl anymore. "You have me. Let Hardt go." I didn't bother straining against my restraints, there was simply no point.

  The Emperor scoffed. "I have you both. I see no reason to let either of you go." Master Tivens arrived, lagging behind the Emperor as his age slowed him down. It also might have had something to do with the large black bag he carried. When he set it down, I heard heavy tools settling within.

  "The people are growing restless, Eska," the Emperor said again. "They have not forgotten you." He shrugged. "I don't let them forget. Not a day goes by when there aren't people outside my palace demanding to see the Corpse Queen."

  And there it was. I have had many names over the years, but none have stuck with me quite like that one. Perhaps because none have fit me quite so well. Perhaps because it was not given to me by my parents, nor any king, not by the Rand or by the Djinn, or by any other creature of power. It is a name that was given to me by the people, regardless of whether I had earned it or not. It did not take me long to grow into the name.

  "That's what they're calling you. The Corpse Queen. It's quite dramatic, though not very inventive, I suppose. The woman who would call herself queen, soon to be a corpse." The Emperor strutted about the torture chamber for a few moments, trying out my new name in a variety of mocking voices. Eventually he shrugged. "You'll fit it soon enough. Though not too soon. I still want my final scream out of you, Eska. I just need to find the right stimulus."

  "I won't do it," I said, my voice weary and quiet. "It doesn't matter how many screams you shake loose, Aras." If the man insisted on using my name, I'd damn well throw his right back. "I will never use that noose. If you want me dead, you'll have to kill me yourself."

  Again, that arrogant shrug as he pranced about in front of me. "Not before my last scream. You'll have a funeral to rival a king's, Eska. I'm going to mount your body on a wooden throne and parade it through the city. The people will come and watch and shout, and probably throw things. Commoners love to throw things. And once you've done a full circuit of the city, I'll set fire to the throne and whatever is left, and the whole of Juntorrow will watch you burn."

  "You're going to parade my body through the streets for your amusement?"

  "Oh no, not for me. For the people, Eska. They demand it." He said the words as though speaking to a simpleton. As though it were madness that I didn't understand. And I was the one who was being called a monster. "Now then, let's get to it."

  I shied away from the man as much as I could while strapped to a chair. I curled my fingers up, pushed myself as far back into the chair as possible. It was an involuntary reaction. After so much pain, so many days of torture… I knew what was coming and I feared it, dreaded it. I had scars, some old, some still fresh, some wounds not even closed yet. Some I wore on the outside, and others on the inside. Weeks of torture, maybe months, I couldn't tell. It conditions you. You expect the pain. You know it's coming, and there's nothing you can do about it. I didn't want to give the Emperor the satisfaction of seeing me shy away, tremble in fear. I didn't want him to see my tears as the expectation of pain took hold and the terror made a mockery of my defiance. I didn't want to plead for a respite. But I simply had no resistance left. He had torn it all away. As the Emperor opened Master Tivens' bag and rifled through the contents, I begged him. Perhaps there is the truth of it, I was already broken. I begged him to stop before he even started, and I have never been more ashamed of myself.

  It was not the first time the Emperor had considered the problem of my stone arm. There was no feeling to it, little movement. It was solid stone, but a part of me. Once before, the Emperor had chipped away at it, growing increasingly frustrated as he realised that I felt nothing. But there are some pains that go beyond the physical. Some agonies that have nothing to do with injury.

  The Emperor drew a hammer out of the black bag. I had seen the type before. It was the same kind of hammer Prig used to drive the marker into the tunnel walls. A rock hammer.

  Panic set in. Fear driving me to thrash about, but the manacles attached to the chair held me tight. Two of the Grave Watch, Rork and Picklesten moved forward and held me down in the chair as the Emperor took a few practice swings with the hammer, a gleeful smile on his face all the while. I babbled, pleaded, begged. I searched the faces I could see. Clews looked away, Master Tivens wore a thoughtful frown. Prena's jaw clenched, her mouth turned down and her eyes full of pity as they met my own. I begged. I begged!

  "Help!" My plea fell on deaf ears, only causing Prena to look away. But I felt something inside. No, that's wrong. Not felt. I heard something. A voice calling across a vast distance, so far away all that reached me was the impression of sound.

  The Emperor le
aned over beside me. "No one is coming to help you. Now, I suggest you hold still." He rested the head of the hammer on my arm, just below the elbow, a couple of fingers from where it turned to rock.

  Again, the voice so far away. A whisper and nothing more.

  "Please," I said, shaking my head, tears streaming from my eyes. "Please don't."

  Emperor Aras Terrelan smiled and raised the hammer above his head.

  Eskara.

  I screamed. And it was the last one the Emperor wanted from me. And the last he would ever get from me.

  There is a special kind of horror that comes with losing a limb. With knowing that a part of you is gone and is never coming back. I could argue I had lost the limb long before that, when it turned to stone, but that was different. The arm had still been there of a sort. The flesh was gone, the feeling was gone, but the arm remained. Not anymore. It was gone. I would never again pull someone I loved into a full embrace. Never again hold a knife and fork in hand. Never again would I wield two blades at once. These were all things I had not been able to do for some time, but it suddenly seemed real. My left arm was gone. It ended in a jagged stump of fractured stone just below the elbow. I felt lighter, and oddly more weighed down than ever before. It was gone.

  I kept poking at the stone, running my fingers along the edges, picking at notches. I couldn't help it. Huddled in my cell, face tired from the tears, eyes raw and painful. All I could do was fiddle with the stump of my arm and stare up at the noose.

  Eskara. Again, the voice inside, so faint I was certain I had imagined it.

  "You left me," I sobbed. I waited a long time for a reply, holding my breath.

  Let me out. The voice startled me as I was dropping off to an exhausted sleep. I waited to see if I heard it again, but there was nothing but silence in my cell. Even the screams of my fellow prisoners seemed far away.

  A sob broke free and I swallowed it before it could lead to any more. Ssserakis was still there, inside somewhere. Hiding from me. And I was so sick of being alone, so I went looking for my horror. I closed my eyes, concentrated on my breathing, and meditated the way I had been taught. The way the tutors at the academy had instructed me. The way Tamura had reminded me. I looked inside, deeper and deeper. I looked until I found my horror.

  I opened my eyes to a place filled with light. That's not quite right. I didn't open my eyes. I was just there. It was a place inside of me, a part of me. A land of light so bright it should have hurt to see. Featureless save for a single spot of shadow, floating there, surrounded by searing light.

  "Ssserakis?" My voice echoed in that broad expanse.

  Let me out. The voice was clearer in that space, but no less quiet. I had to strain just to hear it.

  "You left me alone!" I cried. I couldn't help the accusation that crept into me voice. My horror had hurt me. Abandoned me when I needed it most.

  No.

  I moved closer to the spot of shadow and saw a thin tendril try to reach out of the ball, only to be seared away by the light.

  "You left me!" I accused again, tears rolling down my cheeks. I took another step forward and another tendril reached out only to be burned away.

  You left me.

  Another step closer and I was staring at the little ball of floating shadow. It looked so small and helpless in the light. Ssserakis. Lord of Sevoari. My horror. I reached out a hand, the only one I had left, and cupped it around the shadow. And everything changed.

  Where before there had been light, there was only darkness. I stood at the centre of it, glowing softly, and all around I could feel fear. "Ssserakis?"

  You trapped me here, Eskara! There was pain and hurt in the horror's voice.

  "You left me."

  No. You trapped me here to stop me from fighting back.

  Ssserakis was right about that. That expanse of light had not been a hole for the horror to hide in, it had been a prison. But my horror was also wrong. I hadn't trapped it there to stop it from lashing out at my captors, but to spare it the pain of my torture. I knew it for a certainty then.

  Ssserakis laughed. Not a harsh sound. There was surprise in that laughter. Shock. I am a lord of Sevoari. I have lived hundreds of your lifetimes. I am the terran incarnation of fear itself. And you walled me away to protect me? To spare me your pain.

  "You feel what I feel. I realised that when I was raising the city from the ground. You tried to shield me from my own pain."

  It was more than you could handle.

  Fresh tears welled in my eyes. "It was my fault. My pain. My choice. You shouldn't have to feel it too."

  In the darkness I couldn't see Ssserakis, but I felt my horror draw close. I felt it wrap around me. The closest thing to an embrace I had felt in so long. I needed it.

  "I need your help. I can't…" The tears ran from my eyes and I shook with the violence of the sobs that hit me. "I can't fight them." That admission took a lot out of me. I have never been good at admitting to weakness, not to myself and definitely not to others. But the Emperor had broken me, and I needed help putting myself back together.

  Yes, you can, Eskara. We can fight them together.

  I slept then. A deep sleep unmarred by nightmares or fears. A sleep that I could lose myself in, knowing that I was being watched over and protected by someone I could trust.

  I woke to the darkness of my cell, but it was different. I could see. The bare room was lit in shades of black and white, not a hint of colour. Ssserakis' sight. Dark sight. Of course, being able to see in the dark is of little use when there is nothing to see. Bare stone floor, a bucket half filled with piss, and the noose. I focused on that rope, eyes narrowing, it was lit brighter than the rest of the room, the light from outside my cell focused upon it.

  You don't need it, Eskara. You never needed it.

  Ssserakis was right about that. I looked upon the noose with new resolve. It was no longer a way out. It no longer called to me. It was a symbol. A symbol of what the Emperor had tried to do to me. Of what he tried to turn me into. A symbol of all the pain and suffering he had heaped upon me. Of the torture and the screams ripped from me. That noose was a symbol of how the Emperor had broken me. Some people might have raged at that, bent their new resolve against the noose and torn it down leaving shreds upon the floor. The thought occurred to me, to turn that old symbol of my broken self into a representation of my new strengthened resolve. But no. I had a far better use for it.

  I stood and almost fell. More than just the weakness of months with little food and no exercise save for bracing against pain. It had taken me weeks to compensate when my arm had been turned to stone, with the extra weight it put upon me. Now it was gone, and I felt too light.

  I can help. Strength flooded me. My limbs felt less leaden and I stood straighter, my head clearing a little.

  "Thank you." It felt good to know Ssserakis was there once more. More than the strength my horror gave me. The company. I wasn't alone anymore.

  You're missing an arm. There was surprise in Ssserakis' voice.

  "The Emperor took it."

  Then we'll take his head! Where are we?

  "In his dungeon. The Red Cells. Below the palace."

  Such a fool to keep us so close. We'll make him regret that. We will bring his palace down and crush his empire while he watches.

  I didn't argue. I would happily watch the Terrelan Empire burn, along with everyone in it. I struggled to find any compassion for the people who revelled in my torture, the people who begged for my corpse. They named me the Corpse Queen, called me a monster. I would show them a monster. We would show them a monster.

  "Hardt is here somewhere. I have to find him."

  He is a weakness, Eskara. If not for him, we would never have been captured. You already sacrificed us once for him…

  "And I will do it again if I need to. We're getting out of here, Ssserakis, but we're taking Hardt with us."

  My horror was silent for a moment. This Emperor must die. You cannot hide your ang
er from me, Eskara, nor your pain. I can see what he did to you.

  "He will pay. They all will." I looked up at the noose above me. "Cut it down." My shadow became an oily patch splayed against the far wall. It snaked upwards and sliced easily through the rope. I tied it around my waist, struggling now I only had the one arm. Trust me when I tell you that tying a knot with only one hand is a true challenge. I approached the door and looked at it in the dark sight. A slab of hard wood, banded in iron, a sturdy bolt lock. More than enough to stop a Sourcerer with no magic. But nothing against an ancient horror of fear and shadow and ice. Dark wings burst out of my back and reached over my shoulders, plunging into the wood of the door and ripping it from its hinges before tossing it away down the corridor beyond.

  I was free, and I was angry.

  And the world would pay!

  A lantern hung opposite me, a soft yellow glow flickering within. That lantern had been my only source of light for so long, always shining upon the noose now tied around my waist. I plucked it from its hook and carried it before me. I didn't need the light to see, but it was another symbol of my incarceration.

  Footsteps echoed along the corridor. "There will be many of them. Soldiers between us and the Emperor. Are you strong enough?"

  Ssserakis laughed. You may have kept me trapped, but I was surrounded by fear. I gorged on it. Yours. Theirs. This place's. Can you feel it? Fear seeps from the very walls. It pools beneath us and flows around us. This place has seen more fear than you know. It is drowning in terror. There was a satisfaction in my horror's voice. It approved. I will lend you everything I have to tear down this palace and the fool who calls himself king, but what of your power?