“Let me go,” was the only information he received.
Dominic stopped the odd stranger to see if they knew where the drunken soldier laid his sword and shield at night; he received shrugs and looks of befuddlement. Finally, a woman clutching the hand of a school-aged child noticed his struggle and stopped to assist.
“He lives in his parent’s old place; I’ll show you the way.” It wasn’t that long before they reached the row of houses where Coen’s was located. “I saw what you did today,” she said. “I just wanted to say thank you. I was with my child in the market when the Eval attacked and if it wasn’t for men like you I fear what could have become of us.”
“I was just doing what anyone in that situation would have done, ma’am; it was fight or die.” He hoisted Coen up, securing an arm around his waist.
“It’s not as common as you think; many run and hide at the sight of the Eval. I do hope you’ll stay; Anthena needs more men like you.”
Two requests in the same day to stay and lend his bloody talents.
Fate?
Coincidence?
Coen didn’t stir as he laid him across his unmade bed and backed out of the room. By the time Dominic was back outside, he was yawning and ready to find a pillow of his own.
34
“My dear, this is rather uncalled for.” Osiris leaned against the door to the bedroom and watched as Roserine folded up her clothes and dropped them into the two bags sitting open on top of the bed.
Roserine did her best to ignore his presence, quickening her pace, wanting nothing more than to be outside and away from him. Her hair was still wet from her bath, hanging in dark, red, loose clumps around her shoulders, forming sheets of moisture that beaded and slid beneath the collar of her blouse.
“You can’t just ignore me, Roserine. I’m your King, but more importantly, I’m your uncle; we’re family.”
It wasn’t that she wanted to ignore him. No, on the contrary, she wanted to pound his face in and deposit his unconscious body aboard his ship. She wanted to send him sailing into the night, never to be seen or heard from again, right alongside Eirik. But she couldn’t do that. Osiris had attained the loyalty of the army and the people. She respected the will of Anthena. If they wanted him, they could have him; she didn’t want to serve those that didn’t want to be served. It was hard to swallow after all of the blood and tears she’d shed for the Kingdom.
Blood and tears…
She’d exiled her own brother. The Tenets had demanded it.
The Tenets…
Damn the Gods-damned Tenets!
What had they done for her? She’d lived her life following them, walking within their finely drawn lines and encouraging others to do the same; she’d wanted to be an example to her people, worthy to sit on the throne.
She buckled her blade, zipped her bags, shouldered them, and marched toward the door. “Move out of my way.”
“Not until you talk to me.” He held up his hands defensively.
“You can take my throne, but you can’t force me to speak to you. You got what you wanted, now leave me be.”
“You think this is what I wanted, you and I at each other’s throats?”
“If you don’t want me at your throat, then move!”
“Roserine, dear, I’m simply trying to take care of you the way your father would have wanted me to.”
“My father!” Roserine’s laughter was caustic. “What do you know of my father and his wishes?”
“I know that your father wanted you to have a life. He wanted you to go out and make friends, settle a home, have a family, and leave the day-to-day drudgery of running this place to tired old men. You were forced into this position by a sick father and a lazy, treacherous brother.”
“You don’t get to talk about my brother!” Roserine jumped at him. Osiris didn’t budge. “Choose your next words wisely, Uncle.”
“Let’s not do this, dear.” He tried to touch her arm but she swatted his hand away. “As I told you before, I would welcome your counsel; you know the inner-workings of Anthena far better than anyone I can think of.”
“I’d rather sleep beneath the stars with the cattle, resting my head in a pile of shit, than spend another moment in this castle conversing with you. Now move or I’ll move you.”
He knew she wasn’t to be trifled with, that she’d been trained in combat from an early age, and that even with the soldiers standing just beyond the door she’d have more than enough time to inflict substantial damage. With that in mind, he flattened his body against one side of the doorframe and extended an arm to usher her through. “As you wish.”
She remained alert as she moved past him, her hand near her sword, begging him to show any sign of aggression. But she reached the top of the stairway without being accosted.
“Do not stand in my way, Roserine,” he called after her. “You’re my blood, that means something to me, but I’ll have no problem sticking you in the dungeons if you force my hand.”
As she departed castle Volkheeri, her possessions hanging from her shoulders like saddlebags, she had no idea where she’d end up. Perhaps she’d drink the night away and pass out somewhere near the docks like the rest of the unwanted.
Yeah. That sounded good.
Drink. Forget. Sleep.
Life was already looking up.
35
Emily hung suspended between the floor and ceiling. Each of her limbs was individually shackled; it appeared as if she were trying to make an X with her arms and legs. The room was dark and smelled of mold. Somewhere behind her water dripped against the cold, stone floor. She was thankful for it. It kept her anchored and oriented to her surroundings, kept her from floating off into the thick, deep shadows. Time didn’t exist for her, at least not as it had before: told by the sunrise and sunset, dictated by the meals she took and the company she kept. Now, time was pain, told by the throbbing in her wrists and the aching in her back as it increased with each passing moment.
What did they have planned for her?
She had no illusion of rescue or mercy. There were no limits, no end to the depravity of the monsters that now held her. Her only hope had been in Byron; a hope that he still held some innate shred of decency. But that had been corrupted by whatever darkness lurked in this place. She was tired and her face hurt. She wanted to hang her head and sleep, but she forced it to remain upright; she wanted to see the monsters coming for her.
The door opened and in walked Draxus and Byron, illuminated by a pool of torchlight. Draxus was smiling; his sharpened teeth seemed to be dripping orange venom. Byron looked angry; he was staring out at her over the tops of his eyelids and carrying a small, brown, leather case held closed by a zipper in his left hand.
“Sorry to leave you hanging.” Draxus waved the torch back and forth in front of her bruised face. “I think we may have actually improved your looks.” He leaned in and pretended to study her.
Emily stared back defiantly.
Draxus crunched her ruined nose between his knuckles, laughing as she wailed.
“The girl’s a slow learner,” Draxus said as he deposited the torch into a holder on the wall. “But I feel she will soon come around.”
“I’ve got that feeling as well.” Byron held up the small, leather case ominously.
She wanted to ask what was in it and what they intended to do to her. But that would show fear. She couldn’t give them that satisfaction. So she put on a brave face—the bravest one she could muster—as the monsters took their place before her.
“You can make this easy on yourself.” Draxus pouted at her like a parent giving their child one last opportunity to tell the truth.
“What am I making easy on myself?” She did her best to make anxious curiosity sound like a snappy retort.
“Oh, this?” Draxus reached over and took the case from Byron. “You want to know what’s in here, don’t you? Of course you do. Well, I see no reason to leave you in suspense. What do you think, Byron? Should we
show her?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Alright! Let the fun begin.” Draxus unzipped the case and let it unfurl in his hand. “Take a nice, long look. Then decide which road you want to take. I’m really hoping you choose this,” he dangled the case in front of her, “I’m out of practice.”
The case was a patchwork nightmare of leather straps and pockets. It was filled with glinting, metal instruments with sharp teeth, each with a different purpose—pry, prod, and poke—but all with a common cause: to inflict pain upon her.
She started to tremble. “I don’t understand what you want from me. There’s nothing I can give you.”
“You know, that’s what young Byron thought, but then he gave me you.” Draxus selected a small, flat-headed instrument from the case; its mirror shine seemed out of place in the grimy hellscape. He used the torturous tool to dictate his words. “It came to Byron like a revelation from the gods. What triggered the memory for you?”
“The ocean,” Byron answered flatly.
“You hear that shit? We were talking near the water and the sounds and smells of the ocean reminded him of Anthena’s marketplace, which reminded him of the walks his cunt sister took each morning with you, and now here we are…with you.” He tapped her on the nose with the instrument. “Torture works in a similar way. You become so desperate for the pain to stop that you start searching the deepest recesses of your mind, opening doors you’d forgotten were even there, trying to find that one special piece of information that will satiate your torturer’s appetite.” He coiled around her, his voice frigid in her ear. “I promise you I’ll stop once I’m satiated.”
“I…I don’t know anything! I promise!”
“I’m telling you, Draxus, this cow can’t tell you anything that I haven’t already.” There was a note of jealousy in Byron’s words.
“Byron, you had your face buried in Eval pussy while your city burned. You’ll excuse me if I decide to get a second opinion.”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t know how I can help you.”
“We’ll see.” Draxus dropped to his knees. “Move in close, Byron; pay attention.”
She could feel the cold metal snuggling beneath the nail of her big toe. “No! No! Please!”
Draxus hit the end of the handle with the heel of his palm. Emily screamed until her voice broke. Her nail stood straight up, attached only by the quick. She could feel the warm blood bubbling up and rolling over her toe. Whether the pain subsided or she simply got used to it, she wasn’t sure, but her senses came back and so did her breath.
“Please stop!” She jerked her chains. “Stop! I’m begging you!” She felt the cold presence of the metal monster snuggling up to her other big toe.
“You know how to make me stop. Tell me how to take Anthena. I want to know her…intimately. I want to know how to get her wet. And then I want to bend her over and slide in before she even knows I’m there.”
“Please! I don’t kn—”
The monster sank its teeth into her again. Somehow it hurt worse than the last bite. Her entire body shook as she screamed and frothed at the mouth, she was trying to break loose but there was no budge, just the mocking clink-and-rattle of the chains.
Draxus pulled the nail loose and flicked it over his shoulder. He stood, turning the source of her agony slowly between his fingers.
“I’m going to kill you! Both of you! When Roserine finds out—”
“She won’t do a thing.” Draxus placed the instrument back in the case and removed another; he was standing with his back turned. “She had me right in front of her; I was hers for the taking and she froze. Now here you are, underground, as good as buried. Even if she could find you—she can’t—but even if she could, do you think there’s a thing she could do to save you? Do you think she’d make it down here before I cut your skin off and stitched a pair of boots?”
Draxus made cruel, inarguable sense. Emily was no fool. She saw the world for what it was. Roserine was always telling her to relax, always telling her that she worried needlessly. But it was her job to be the realist, to hold onto Roserine’s ankles to keep her from drifting into the clouds. Others had probably hung in Draxus’ lair wondering what dark deed they’d committed to deserve such a fate. That wasn’t the case for her. The rain fell whether the grass needed to be watered or not.
Draxus revealed his new toy. He held it inches from her left eye. “There it is,” he was beaming as he studied her face, “that’s the expression I was looking for. You’re shitting yourself now, aren’t you?”
Emily tried to escape the glinting needle that stood inches from her eyeball. “Please don’t! Don’t! I’m begging you!”
“That didn’t take long,” Draxus laughed.
“Don’t…just…don’t, please!”
“Whether I do or don’t depends on you. Make yourself useful to me, justify the blood running through this disgusting visage you call a body.”
Gods, forgive me.
“There’s a tunnel beneath the wall,” the words were a choked whisper.
“What fucking tunnel?” Draxus barked.
“There is no tunnel! She’s lying to you!” Byron charged up beside Draxus, screaming, his spittle drenching Emily’s face.
“Get. Back. Now.” Draxus’ calm voice carried sinister promises.
“She’s trying to make me look foolish!”
“You need no help in that area,” Draxus said, looking sideways at him. “Step back before I lose my patience.”
Byron did as instructed.
“It does bring up an interesting point,” Draxus said as he turned the needle between his fingers. “How is it that you know of this tunnel, but Byron does not? The little fucker was next in line for the throne. You’re simply a…peasant.”
“I am the handmaid of Queen Roserine!”
“A peasant with a title is still a peasant.”
“My father would have told me if there were a tunnel beneath the wall!” Byron said as he pointed his finger at Emily.
“No, Byron. Your father, the great King Shalewind, knew you to be incompetent and lazy. We all did. Anthena loved your father, but they dreaded the day you’d take the throne. How many times did you visit with grieving families after the attacks? No, you were carousing beyond the walls. Sharing our secrets with Eval whores,” Emily snarled.
“Roserine was—”
“Roserine was performing your duties. It should have been you reassuring the people, visiting the sites of the attacks, strategizing with Eirik about our security. Perhaps if you’d visited the mine you’d know of the tunnel.”
“There’s no tunnel!”
Draxus laughed, amused by Byron’s red-faced insistence. “I dunno, Byron. She seems pretty convinced.”
“How would she know?” Byron’s arms were extended out to his sides in exasperation. “How would you know? You’ve never visited the mine! I doubt you’ve ever spoken with the men that labor there!”
“I’ve visited with Queen Roserine after the attacks. I’ve seen where those men labor, I’ve seen where they spilled their blood.”
“She makes a convincing argument, Byron. I’ve gotta rule against you on this one; the bitch has me intrigued. My dear, you speak. Byron, you shut the fuck up.”
Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to betray her people?
“My patience is waning.” Draxus held the needle up and tapped her on the nose with it.
She had to trust Roserine. She had to trust the people of Anthena. They’d survived so much…surely they could survive this. “The tunnel runs beneath the wall and comes out on the far west end of the island on a rocky shoreline.”
“That simple, eh? We just walk right in the front door?”
Emily shook her head. “Your men will have to excavate it. They collapsed the tunnel when they found it…for obvious reasons.” She felt sick.
“Of course they did.” He hung there in front of her, the heat of his breath splashin
g against her face. It seemed as if he might stick her with the needle despite the information she’d given. “Good. This is good. I think we can work with this.”
“What if she’s lying?” Byron stammered.
“Look at her? Does she look like she’s going anywhere? If she’s lying, we come back and finish what we started.” Draxus slapped her throbbing face, packed up his case of torment, and escorted Byron from the room.
Emily gave up on supporting her weight; she unlocked her knees and let her body dangle, her arms straining in their sockets.
36
It was evening. Dominic and Lerah were in the main room, huddled over a small table, eating a dinner of fish and bread.
“Coen is taking this whole thing rather hard,” Dominic said as he stuffed a wad of bread in his cheek and began chewing.
“Can hardly blame him; he’s crazy about Emily.” Lerah dropped a morsel of fish into her mouth and began sucking her fingers clean.
“Oh, I know, trust me. I was with him at the tavern tonight. I had to carry the sonofabitch back to his house. It’s getting perilous out there for anyone standing on the wrong side of this deal.”
“The wrong side?” Lerah raised her eyebrows, her thumb still stuck between her front teeth.
“I mean anyone standing beside Roserine. It seems that Osiris has convinced a good number of folks that his cause is the right one. The greeting I got in the tavern was hardly friendly; I almost had to fight to get a drink.”
“Most people are sheep. Incapable of thinking for themselves. Put them in a large group, insert a little fear, and you can pull their strings any way you want. Just because there are less of us on this side it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one.”
Dominic smiled. “That sounds like something I’d say.”
Lerah paused, holding a half-torn piece of bread in her hands. “Oh shit, it does!” She looked at him, eyes wide, and gasped. “It’s almost like we’re related.”
“Oh, don’t say that.” He looked down at his plate and began shuffling his food around.
Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3 Page 25
