by Kris A Hiatt
“He said idiots,” Moff giggled while pointing fingers at Drokier and Raythien. “You two should be worried.”
Despite the situation, despite the fact that he would most likely be dead in a few days, Treace laughed.
“I said one of you may have a chance to get out alive. I never said what condition you’d be in,” Shamir warned.
His words silenced most of the room, but Moffred continued to giggle.
“Duke,” Shamir said, not taking his eye from Moff. “You’ll give him twenty lashes, and I better hear him scream from my room.”
All mirth left the room then, including Moff.
Guards pulled at their chains, leading them out.
“You decide,” Shamir said as Treace was escorted out of the room. “Which one lives is up to you.”
~~~
“It was worth it,” Moffred said through clenched teeth as he was drug back into the room and toward his cell.
Kiril couldn’t believe the man was still conscious after the punishment he took. She could hear him screaming in agony with every lash of the whip.
“You shouldn’t have provoked him,” Treace scolded.
“It was worth it,” Moffred said again, this time much less coherently, but somehow unimaginably with a smile. “Did you see the look on his face?”
“I did,” Treace told him, offering what looked to Kiril like a forced smile in return.
Tears welled in Treace’s eyes when Moff was drug by him. They were in separate cells with Treace in the middle, Moffred on his left, and Kiril on his right, but she was still close enough to clearly see them.
If Moffred was going to reply, it would have to be sometime later. The man had passed out after he spoke. She didn’t know if he heard Treace’s reply or not.
“Moff?” Treace questioned, pulling himself tight to the bars between their cells and reaching out for his friend. “Moff!”
One of the two guards checked Moff’s pulse and was apparently happy with what he found because he nodded at the other and they walked out, closing the cell door behind them.
“Can you reach him?” Kiril asked after the guards had left.
Treace got down on all fours and tried reaching through the bars, but shook his head after a few attempts.
“Then let him rest,” Kiril instructed. “We can try to heal him after he wakes up.”
“Can you heal him from there?” Treace asked after turning to face her.
“No,” Kiril admitted. She understood why he’d ask. “My father never taught me how to do that.”
“So it is possible then?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me use other magic. He said he wouldn’t risk me becoming stone-faced,” she told him. She had tried other emotions on her own a few times and had even managed to bring forth a barrier, but she had never attempted to use magic at a distance.
“I have to try,” Treace told her, closing his eyes.
“No!” Kiril said forcefully, making Treace look at her.
“He’s my friend, I have to try.”
“And if you stone-face yourself trying? All of us are dead then,” Kiril reminded him. She was surprised he didn’t think of that. If he didn’t fight, they all died. The best way for him to save Moffred was to fight.
Treace didn’t say anything, but he nodded his head. After a moment he crawled over to the side of the cell closest to her. He sat down, placing his back to the bars. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
“What are we going to do?” Treace asked.
“We’ll heal him in the morning,” Kiril told him again.
“No, not about him. About all of us. How do we all get out of this?” Treace clarified.
Kiril thought about it for a few moments. She didn’t think there was a way they would all get out alive. It just wasn’t possible. Only one of them would live. She didn’t envy Treace his decision at all. She had been inside the man’s head before and knew how he thought. She knew without question that he had no intention of winning the fight to save his own life. Now that she thought about it, the choice of who he might save had to be eating at him. A part of her wanted him to pick her, to save her life, but she knew that was just self-preservation at work. After everything Moffred had been through, she had no intention of asking the man to die too. “We don’t. You save him,” she told him calmly.
“And condemn you? You can’t ask me to do that.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you to.”
“There’s hardly a distinction between the two.”
“Yes there is. I’m telling you to save your friend’s life. It’s okay. I’m okay with it. I know it’s your choice and not mine, but I know you. It’s gnawing at you and you can’t deny it. Stop the gnawing. Save Moffred,” she instructed him. She was relieved to have said it. She didn’t think she would be, but she was. There was a sense of calm that came over her as she spoke. The way she looked at it, she wouldn’t be alone. Her mother and father were waiting for her on the other side. They’d be reunited again for the first time since her birth. She was at peace with her decision. She just hoped Treace was too.
“There has to be another way.”
She wasn’t surprised by his response. But the sooner he came to terms with the reality of the situation the better. “There isn’t.”
Treace put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. She wasn’t certain because she couldn’t see his face, but she thought he was crying. She sat down and put her arms through the bars and wrapped them around him. She placed the side of her face against his back and hugged him. The iron bars were cold, but she paid no attention to them. She was listening to his heart beat and his soft intakes of breath.
She closed her eyes, wondering what their lives would be like if she wasn’t about to die. The thought of holding him in her arms years from now wasn’t an unpleasant one. That thought alone nearly made her say that he should choose to save her instead of Moff, but that was a selfish thought so she banished it quickly. It occurred to her then that she did love him. The idea had been floating around in her mind for a while, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. Now, however, with her impending doom, it felt good to finally admit the truth of it. It was crazy, she knew. They had only met a short time ago, but after being in his head, and his heart, it was clear. Somehow, impossibly considering the situation, she loved him. That same sense of calm that came over her before washed over her again. She knew she couldn’t let Treace know that she loved him, however, or it would make his choice that much more difficult. She was fairly certain he felt the same for her, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t live with the idea that she only got to live because Moffred had to die. He had to pick Moffred. She thought about withdrawing from him then, but she couldn’t. She wanted to hold him. She decided that she could be selfish for a little while. Tomorrow she’d be more resolute, but right now, after the arduous trip, dealings with the King, and her impending death, she needed comfort as much as he did.
~~~
Kiril was awoken by the sound of metal crashing against metal.
“Wake up, lovebirds,” Drokier called out in mocking tones, dragging his sword across the bars of the cell in front of her.
She realized she must have fallen asleep while holding Treace last night. She pulled her arms from him at the same time as he jolted awake. Her neck was sore, but other than that she felt much better. She reminded herself that she needed to convince Treace to choose to save Moff. “We are not together.”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Drokier replied. “It’ll be short lived anyway.”
Treace stood up and gave her a brief look before facing Drokier. There was pain in that look and she knew her words stung him. She didn’t like seeing that look on his face, but she knew it needed to be done.
“What do you want, Drokier?” Treace asked. “Have you come to gloat?”
“Gloat? Me? No. Not at all. I’ll save that for after I’m standing over your dead body.”
There was an unmistakable gleam in Drokier’s eye. The man truly wanted Treace dead. She wondered if there was something beyond him wanting to be the one to kill The Wolf.
“Do it,” Drokier said to the two men who had accompanied him into the room.
She didn’t pay attention to them at first, so she missed that the two of them were carrying shackles and a length of chain.
“Do anything stupid and your girlfriend will pay,” Drokier warned, brandishing his sword in Kiril’s direction. “Understood?”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Kiril protested.
Drokier shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter.
Treace frowned slightly but nodded his head to the man.
Drokier unlocked the cell door and swung it open. The two men rushed into the room and Drokier closed the door behind them.
“Your hands,” the man that was carrying the shackles said.
Treace did as he was told and put his hands together and raised them in front of him. Kiril didn’t know what Drokier’s intentions were, but whatever it was, she doubted it was anything good.
The guard quickly shackled Treace’s wrists and the other man attached the chain to the shackles with a threaded metal pin.
“To the wall,” the one that was carrying the chain instructed. “Now.” He pushed Treace backward until he was fully against the rear wall of his cell.
The other man held the end of the chain with one hand and jumped up and grabbed one of the overhead bars. He swung back and forth slightly, but quickly threaded the chain through a ring that she hadn’t noticed before. She looked up and immediately saw that there was a similar ring above her.
The man let go and dropped to his feet, still holding the chain. Treace was pulled forward when the man did so and after a few short pulls on the chain, Treace’s arms were straight above his head.
“Stringing me up like this is the only way you’d ever beat me,” Treace informed Drokier.
“Oh, we’ll see about that.”
Drokier opened the cell door again and took the chain from his men. He pulled it tight and secured it on a prong that was fastened high up on one of the bars near the door.
“So you’re going to torture me then?” Treace asked.
Kiril had wondered the same thing. Why else would they chain him up like that?
“I’m just evening the odds,” Drokier responded as he exited the cell and closed the door.
What did he mean by evening the odds? If he was going to torture Treace, why did he leave the cell? Kiril was glad the man didn’t do anything to Treace, but something wasn’t right about this and she couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Bring it in,” Drokier commanded.
His men went around the corner and into the hallway off of the jail and came back moments later, each of the two men carrying a tray of food and a tall slender metal cup. Kiril’s stomach grumbled at the sight of food and suddenly she realized she was ravenously hungry. She tried to think of how long it had been since they had eaten or drank anything. She though it had to be yesterday morning, before they entered Kadenton. One of the guards slid a tray under the bars of Kiril’s cell and placed the cup on the floor. She thought the cup was oddly shaped at first, but after seeing how perfectly it fit through the bars, she understood the need for it. The other man did the same at Moff’s cell.
“So that’s your plan? Starve me before we fight?” Treace asked.
When Kiril realized that neither of the two guards went back around to corner to get another tray, she knew Treace was right.
“Don’t forget dehydration,” Drokier pointed out. “That’s worse than not having food. But if I do that you’ll probably be dead by the time we fight, so I’ll make sure I give you a sip or two just to keep you alive. I want to keep the fight fair after all.”
“What’s the point?” Treace asked. “This whole thing is rigged anyway.”
Kiril thought Drokier wasn’t going to take the chance that Treace may decide to save his own life instead of choosing to save one of his friends. If that was the case, he’d have to win the fight versus Drokier. If Treace was weak and lethargic, then the older man would most likely easily defeat him. She thought it was a wise move on Drokier’s part. Cowardly, but wise.
“Nonsense. This will be a fair fight. If you fight to the best of your ability and beat me, then you’ll go free. If you lose, you get to save the life of one of these fools.”
“Not much incentive to win,” Treace pointed out.
“Of course there is,” Drokier argued. “You’ll get to live.”
“At their expense.”
“At least someone will make it out alive. There could have been a firing squad instead. None of you would live through that. But what would I get out of that? Nothing. This way I get to punish you for your insolence and get to be the man that kills The Wolf. I’ll regain what you stole from me not so long ago. I’ll get the respect of my men back. After I kill you, none of the six thousand men I am training now will ever think to go against me. Think about that as my sword plunges into your chest. Not so long from now your precious Liernin will be overrun by an army trained by the man he cast out. A fitting end I’d say.”
“Knowing that they’ve been trained by you tells me Liernin will have a chance, no matter the amount of men. Your incompetence has rubbed off on your men, I’m sure of it,” Treace replied, smiling despite his predicament.
Drokier’s face went red and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he snapped it shut and stormed off with both of his guards in tow.
“He’s an asshole,” Moffred said with effort.
Kiril could barely hear the man yet it was enough to make her sigh in relief. He was laying on his stomach still and the garish wounds on his back looked terrible. But he was alive and she thought it was a good sign that he still had enough spirit to show his usual sense of humor.
“Moff!” Treace exclaimed, twisting his body to face his friend.
“I’ve been whipped before, but the ladies were never this rough,” Moff stated.
Kiril couldn’t help but picture what Moff was saying. She shook the image from her mind.
“Crawl over to the bars, Moff. Try to reach through and grab my foot,” Treace instructed, sticking out leg out toward Moffred.
“For what?” Moffred asked, slowly pulling himself to a seated position but making no effort to do as he was told.
“To heal you, of course,” Treace told him.
“I don’t think so,” Moffred replied, shaking his head.
“Moffred, do it,” Kiril told him.
“I had to fight the urge to hug you the last time you healed me. That damn emotional connection. Nope. I’m afraid I’ll want to kiss you this time,” Moffred said.
“Moff!” Treace scolded.
“How do you think Drokier would react if he saw that I was fully healed? Don’t you think he’d make it worse for me the next time? Or even for you? No, you’ll not heal me. I’ll live,” Moff informed them, trailing off with the last two words and putting his head down.
Kiril didn’t think of that. Moff was right. If they noticed that he’d somehow already fully recovered, they’d know magic was involved. They’d likely have more questions about that and possibly even punish one or all of them for it. But it was the way he trailed off and put his head down that bothered her. It was if he was trying to say he was actually sad that he was going to live.
“Stubborn ass,” Treace chided, putting his leg back down. “At least eat.”
Kiril’s eyes darted toward the food and drink and her stomach rumbled again.
“Fine,” Moffred said, crawling toward the food. “But don’t watch me eat.”
“It doesn’t bother me that you’re eating,” Treace told him.
“I’m not worried about you. If I have to look at your ugly face while I eat, I might throw up. That would be a waste of food.”
Kiril couldn’t believe Moffred could joke at a time like this. B
ut then again, she thought the man was using humor as a way to cope with his loss. She knew exactly what it was like to see your father killed in front of your eyes. While Kint’s death stung her still, she had accepted the truth. She wished she could offer him some sort of comfort but knew there wasn’t much she could do.
“It’s okay,” Treace replied as he turned to face her. “I don’t want to watch you chew with your mouth open anyway you disgusting pig.”
Even though it would sound like humorous banter to someone else listening, the pained look on Treace’s face when he said it told her that he was only playing along for his friend’s benefit. Must be he also thought Moffred’s humor was a coping mechanism.
“You too,” Treace told her. “Eat. It’s been awhile.”
She didn’t want to eat in front of him. Obviously not for the same reason Moffred gave, but simply because she would feel bad that she could eat while he couldn’t.
“Don’t worry about me,” Treace said. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just be in The Calm.”
Kiril watched him close his eyes and after a few heartbeats his face went slack and emotionless. He had found The Calm. She was reminded of her father just then. He found The Calm just as quickly. She missed him dearly.
She crawled over to her food and watched him in silence as she ate. Even though she was starving, she ate only because she knew she needed to.
Chapter 22
“Are you certain of it?” Liernin asked.
“I’m relaying it to you exactly as Edas relayed to me,” Drevic answered. “It may not be true, but it seems likely and plausible.”
Upon Edas’s return from Kilindric he shared that there were numerous new members of the College. Many of which didn’t fit the traditional mentality of those who were seeking the Paths of magic. They were on edge and eyed Edas with suspicion the entire time he was there. Edas suspected they were really Shamir’s men disguised as brothers. Drevic just shared that information with Liernin in a private meeting.
“How many men?” Liernin asked.
“Hard to tell, but he counted over a dozen faces that he’d never seen before. There could be many more. He wasn’t allowed to freely walk the grounds. In fact, he’s very lucky he was allowed on the premises at all. Brental is now in Kadenton and doesn’t seem to be returning any time soon.”
