by Sue Tingey
The end of the final passageway opened up into a large cavern. Red light glowed from twelve braziers, which cast black flickering shadows, reminiscent of Native Americans doing a war dance, on the walls. At their center was an altar similar to the one above ground, though set on a circular plinth and with two smaller braziers placed at either end. From the various implements plunged into the burning embers, I guessed these weren’t for decoration.
Behind the altar stood six huge wooden crosses, very much like the ones the two Sicarii had been crucified on at Dark Mountain. I couldn’t help but wonder who had thought up this method of execution first, and it struck me again that, whether man or demon, both were capable of cruelty.
I had taken only a few steps into the chamber when the first of many spirits began to drift toward me. They moaned in desperation when they saw I was a prisoner. Several plucked at the sleeves of the two Sicarii holding me, their gray fingers passing through the material. Others threw punches at them, although they must have known it was useless.
The Sicarii in gray led the way, oblivious to the souls surrounding us. Or he may have been ignoring them, I supposed—they were nothing more to him than cattle to be drained of their essence. I wanted to tell them to be patient; I would help them when I could, but until I was absolutely sure the Sicarii knew I was a Soulseer I didn’t want to reveal myself. I raised a finger to my lips, which was the best I could do without drawing my guards’ attention.
To my relief, the two Sicarii led me past the altar and the braziers to a room at the back. The gray-robed Sicarii opened the door and glided inside and I was forced to follow. Once in the chamber I wondered whether I should’ve just taken my chances with the braziers and the red-hot torture utensils, because, sitting behind a desk that filled half the room, was Amaliel Cheriour.
As if this wasn’t bad enough, my other least favorite demon Henri le Dent sat in the corner nursing his bandaged stump. Gone was his usual sneer. When he looked at me it was with undisguised animosity, his grotesque lips twisted in hatred. For the moment he didn’t warrant my attention; Amaliel was another matter.
Red eyes burned from within his cowl and I shuddered inwardly, hoping I would never see what was hidden within the shadows of that hood.
“So nice of you to join us at last,” his voice brought to mind a snake slithering through autumn leaves. “Having you brought here has proved to be more than a little tiresome.”
“You shouldn’t have taken so much trouble. You knew we’d come anyway.”
“Hmm, I couldn’t be too sure. You and the Lady Kayla aren’t the friends you once were. Though I did hope you’d come, if not for her then for the child.”
“What do you want with me?” I could see no point in playing games.
“Leave us,” he said to the Sicarii.
“But, My Lord,” the Sicarii in gray said, “surely it’s not safe to leave you alone with this creature?”
“We have her sister, and I give you leave to put out the Lady Kayla’s eyes with red-hot irons if this one tries to cause me harm.”
The Sicarii gave a little bow. “My Lord,” he said and backed out of the door, followed by the two minions.
Once the door had closed behind them Amaliel gestured to the vacant chair opposite him. “Please take a seat.”
I was about to refuse, but the old adage about cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face came to mind, and as my head still had a couple of Royal Marines stomping around in there, I decided to accept the offer.
“After all this time I feel we should celebrate, but that will come later. Do you know how long I have been waiting for this moment?”
I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair.
“Twenty-five years. From the moment you were born.”
I frowned at him. How … ?
“The Soulseer: I never believed for one moment she would come, she was a creature of legend. Then you were born and your coming sent a shockwave from the human world into ours …”
Kayla had said much the same thing the day she had told me she was a demon. I didn’t say a word, I didn’t want to distract him from this story—maybe I would finally get the truth.
“… Even so, I couldn’t quite believe it. That you had been born into the human world was a surprise and made me doubt it could be true. I decided to see for myself, but as I have no jurisdiction in the Overlands I had to find a different way to you. Unfortunately, the Lady Kayla took things into her own hands. She shielded you—no sooner had I found you, than you were gone.”
“Did she know what I was?”
“Maybe, but she was probably more concerned that she had an illegitimate sister, then she took everyone by surprise and grew to care for you.”
Henri gave a derisive snort. “She cares for no one but herself.”
“I think you have already been proven wrong on that.”
“We’ll see.”
Amaliel’s attention returned to me. “I had to change my plans, so that when I eventually found you, I could bring you to the Underlands. Unfortunately, fate conspired against me and somehow the Guardian and Deathbringer became involved.”
“It was you who set up Philip Conrad.”
“So ambitious, so greedy; he was perfect. But he failed and I couldn’t afford for him to be traced back to me, so I implicated the idiot Daltas. It wasn’t difficult—he is always plotting and planning. All I had to do was say a word here, a word there, whisper suggestions in his ear; before long even he believed he’d been conspiring to bring Lady Kayla and her sister back to the Underlands.”
“So this has been your doing all along?” I said. “And I suppose I needn’t ask who’s been poisoning Baltheza?”
“That imbecile,” Amaliel spat. “He was slowly getting out of control, I just made sure it happened a whole lot quicker.”
“So, how was it going to work—you drive him mad, and then what? I don’t know much about demon royalty, but I’m pretty sure you’re not in line for the throne.”
Amaliel chuckled, a disgusting, gurgling sound. “With Baltheza declared insane and locked up for his own good, his legitimate daughter missing presumed dead, and his illegitimate daughter having also disappeared, the throne would be up for grabs.”
“And you’d be the one grabbing it?”
“The Sicarii would take control with me at their head.”
“So, I’ll ask the question again—what do you want with me?”
“There is no place for the Soulseer in our new world.”
“Then why bring me back to the Underlands?”
“I had to be certain. At first, when I saw you, I was convinced I’d been mistaken. You were weak and puny. You appeared human. There was no possible way you could be the Soulseer of legend. Even so, I thought it best that you die. Then I touched you and I felt your power: your power, not just that of the Guardian and Deathbringer whose marks you bear, your power; the power of the Soulseer.”
There was a knock on the door: three short, sharp raps and I heard it open behind me.
“We’re ready,” a voice said.
Amaliel bowed his head and the door closed. He laid the palms of his yellowed, skeletal hands on the table and pushed himself up from his seat. Henri also stood. I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to go anywhere with either of them.
“You can come with us by your own volition or I can have my guards drag you.”
I hesitated a moment then got to my feet. If I was being held fast by two burly Sicarii I had no chance of escape, or cutting off Henri’s other hand. Unescorted, I had a chance of eluding them both and trying to find Kayla and Angela. Henri opened the door and Amaliel gestured to me that I should go first.
I heard Kayla before I saw her. If she was hurt, it wasn’t so badly that she couldn’t berate her captors. She was letting rip with a steady stream of abuse that would probably have made a Chatham dockworker blush.
“You’ll be sorry, you little shit, I’ll make sure each and every one of you
is sorry. I’ll have your bollocks for bed socks and your dicks for doorstops.”
“Lady Kayla,” Amaliel said gliding past me, “in fine fettle I see.”
I followed on behind him, desperate to see my friend. Until I saw the position she was in: both she and Vaybian were hanging from the crosses at the back of the chamber, and as I moved closer I could see she hadn’t been tied there. Streams of blue ran from the centers of her palms and from her feet. I bunched my fists to my sides and clenched my teeth together. Somehow I was going to make Amaliel pay for this. I wasn’t sure how, but I would. I glanced around the chamber, counting up the number of Sicarii present. There were three in gray close to my friend and her lover, plus five in brown in fairly close proximity to the altar; that was all, but it was enough, even if Vaybian and Kayla had been free and armed.
Kayla fell silent, looking around as she felt my presence and then saw me. “Lucky?” she asked, and her face crumpled for a moment, then she began to fight against the nails holding her to the cross.
“Lady Kayla, please desist. You’ll only hurt yourself,” Amaliel said, but I could hear the laughter in his voice, and if I’d still had my dagger I would have plunged it into his cold, black heart; no problem.
“Not as much as I’m going to hurt you, you putrid bag of pus,” she said, still struggling.
“Slit his throat,” Amaliel said, gesturing to Vaybian.
“No!” Kayla shrieked.
“Then behave.”
Kayla glared at him but stopped fighting against the nails pinning her to the cross.
I couldn’t see her legs for her skirt, but I could see Vaybian’s, and his feet were pushed flat against the posts, forcing his legs to bend outward into what must have been a tortuous position, not forgetting the pain from the nails in his feet.
“Now then,” Amaliel said, “we’re going to play a little game. It’s called truth or pain. The rules are simple: I will ask one of you a question and you’ll give me a truthful answer. If you lie I’ll inflict pain upon the other party. Understood?”
“Cretinous maggot,” was Kayla’s reply.
“Lady Kayla,” Amaliel said, “who do you love most—your sister or your lover?”
The snakes in Kayla’s hair hissed and spat at Amaliel. “I love them both, but the love I have for each of them is different. There can be no comparison.”
“I think there is. Who do you love most?” he asked and gestured with a nod toward the gray-robed Sicarii standing to Vaybian’s right. The demon glided over to one of the small braziers on the altar and selected a long, straight, poker-like utensil; its tip glowing almost white. Kayla watched him glide back to Vaybian and her lips pressed together into a thin line.
“I’m waiting.”
“My sister,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry?” Amaliel said, raising a hand as if to his ear. “I didn’t quite hear.”
“My sister.”
“Lucky?”
“Yes.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“You love her more than the Captain of your guard?”
“Yes,” she said, risking a glance Vaybian’s way.
He gave her a smile. “It’s all right, I’ve always known it to be so.”
“Interesting,” Amaliel said, gesturing to the Sicarii holding the poker.
“It’s the truth,” Kayla blurted out as he approached Vaybian, the poker extended toward her lover’s exposed abdomen.
“So, Vaybian,” Amaliel said. “If I asked who you’d rather suffer the pain of white hot metal upon flesh—you or your mistress—who would you say?”
“Me,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation.
“How about you?” Amaliel asked, turning to me. “Whose skin would you rather see sizzle and pop?”
“You are so totally disgusting I’m surprised you don’t make yourself puke,” I said.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’ll answer yours when you answer mine. What do you want from me? It’s clear you want something, otherwise you’d have killed me already.”
The spirits surrounding us moaned; some pressed their hands to their mouths, others wrung their hands.
“Do you want to hear your sister’s lover scream and beg for mercy?”
“He won’t,” I said.
“You think not? Maybe we should have a wager as to how long it would take until he pleaded for me to end his miserable existence?”
“You are vile.”
“Henri, maybe you would like to give me a hand with this?” The assassin glared at him. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me, though I’m sure you would welcome a chance to exact a little revenge for your suffering.”
“Let me have her,” Henri said, gesturing toward me with his stump.
“Maybe later, but first things first.” He turned back to me. “Who out of your sister and her lover do you want to see burn?”
“Neither.”
“You have to make a choice or I will scar them both.”
“I guess you never knew your father,” I said.
Red eyes blazed at me. “Scar them both.”
“If you hurt either of them, I won’t do whatever it is you want from me.”
He laughed out loud and Henri sniggered. “My dear girl, of course you will,” and with that he strode across to the Sicarii holding the poker, snatched it from his hand and pressed the length of glowing metal across Vaybian’s stomach. Kayla screamed, but Vaybian didn’t. He screwed his eyes tight shut and his lips twisted into an agonized grimace, but not a sound came from him other than the sizzling of his skin. If I hadn’t already thrown up the contents of my stomach the stench of burning flesh and the awful spitting sound of his searing skin would’ve had me vomiting again.
“Stop it,” Kayla cried out, “stop it!”
Amaliel continued to press the metal against Vaybian’s skin. “Next time I will use the tip, and I will not stop until it has burned through flesh and muscle and has made a hole all the way through his torso and out the back.” Kayla let rip with another string of foul-mouthed abuse.
Amaliel looked up at her, laughing, and ripped the poker away from Vaybian’s skin. This brought a little “err” sound from the back of the green captain’s throat. Amaliel handed the poker to the Sicarii. “Bring me another,” he said, “and let’s see if the Lady Kayla can suffer in as much silence as her captain.”
“No,” Vaybian gasped. “You hurt her and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Amaliel said, and Henri’s mutilated lips twisted into a sneer.
I glared at the pair of them, thinking fast. Amaliel held all the cards and I had nothing to bargain with. Or did I? If nothing else, maybe I could cause a little mischief by playing the divide and conquer tactic. “Why didn’t you warn the Sicarii who came to take me that I was marked by the Deathbringer and Guardian?” I asked.
Amaliel stopped very still and the Sicarii standing beside Vaybian swung around to face him. “What?” it hissed.
“I don’t suppose he mentioned that I’m the Soulseer, either.”
Another hiss and this one was echoed by several of the other Sicarii spread throughout the chamber.
Amaliel strode around the altar and grabbed hold of my arm, his fingertips digging into me so hard I knew I’d have bruises where each of his fingers had been. “You little bitch,” he said, his voice low so the Sicarii couldn’t hear. “When I’ve finished with you I’ll have your tongue, but not before I’ve made you suck on a white hot ball of iron.”
Henri drew closer to Amaliel’s side and peered at me over his shoulder. “Perhaps you could stitch her eyelids together so she is forever in the dark.”
“Even better: cut them off so she can’t shut out the torments I shall inflict upon her sister and the captain.”
I started to struggle, trying to pull out of his bony grasp, but it was impossible. “See how she squirms,” Amaliel said.
“Maybe we should p
ut her up there with her sister,” Henri said, gesturing with his stump toward the cross to Kayla’s left.
A Sicarii appeared beside Amaliel and leaned in close, cupping his hand to whisper to him. Amaliel took a deep gurgling breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yes Lord.”
His blazing eyes looked straight into mine for so long, I thought that if I closed them I’d still see his burned onto my retinas. “Take her back to the cells.”
“What about them?” the Sicarii asked, jerking his head toward Kayla and Vaybian.
“Put Lady Kayla in my chamber of fun. He can stay where he is; I haven’t finished with either of them yet.”
The Sicarii beckoned for two of the minions to come forward and Amaliel thrust me into their arms. “Prepare her for a visit from me. I want to see if she is so brave without an audience.”
“No!” I heard Kayla cry, and although I struggled to look back I was marched away without being able to catch a glimpse of her.
Twelve
I think I would have preferred to have been taken back to the cell with the pile of vomit in the corner. My new accommodation had all the accoutrements of a torture chamber and I was shackled by both wrists to a chain hanging from the wall. The chain was long enough that I could sit on the floor, but kept me just far enough away from anything that could potentially be a weapon—like the very sharp-looking knives, metal pincers and long-handled branding irons lying on a solid wooden bench on the other side of the cell. There were other instruments that were even more scary, and I was rather glad I had no idea what they were for, although my overactive imagination was having a field day.
I sat down and waited, not knowing which was worse: wondering what was happening to Kayla and Vaybian, or hearing the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
I was cold and uncomfortable, but there was nothing to be done. The shackles were solid and uncompromising. They weren’t locked by a key; instead a nut and bolt held each cuff together. I tried again and again to undo the nuts, but they were too tight. The Sicarii had tightened them with pliers, and if they could hold a fully grown demon the size of Shenanigans or Kubeck, what chance did I have?
