Dave wrapped an arm around her. "And I'm glad we did."
They shared a quick kiss.
Ander couldn't imagine the life she'd endured. He'd lived comfortably his entire life, and even now, as hard as this journey was, he had people to support him. He shuddered to think how easily his life could have become like hers. His family had been disloyal.
"What about you, Dave?" asked Captain Davis as he chewed mechanically on a piece of dried meat.
"I don't like talking about my past."
Ander knew better than to force the issue. If Dave wanted to share, he would do it on his own terms.
They finished their meal with a little conversation, then settled down for the night. One person always stood watch, but there was nothing to worry about here. The night was cool and silent, and sometimes Ander swore he could hear the noise of the city beyond.
In the morning, they prepared to make their way across the river. Though the current wasn't swift, Ander still felt nervous.
He stuck his leg in the water and gasped. It was colder than he'd expected.
"I have an idea," he said, taking his staff from his back. Maybe he could create an ice bridge. Yes, it would be slick, but it would be better than swimming.
He touched his staff to the gently flowing water, and a block of ice formed.
Mara frowned. "Are we going to cross that?"
"Would you rather swim?" Ander asked.
"It's worth a try," Dave said.
Ander held the tip of his staff to the water as the other three filed onto the bridge he'd created. He could freeze the water for perhaps six feet in front of him, so he hung close behind them as they crossed, sliding their feet carefully across the ice bridge.
The river wasn't wide, so it didn't take long to cross. Near the other side, Captain Davis slipped and hit the water with a great splash. He cursed before swimming the rest of the way to shore, where he sat on the muddy bank, shivering.
The rest of the party joined him shortly. Ander created a fire shield around Captain Davis. It wouldn't make the water evaporate, but it would help him feel a little warmer.
After a brief rest, they made their way through the trees at the other side of the river. Beyond those trees was the massive city of Taylorville. Ander had heard stories about this place, most of them concerning the Prison City. It was a place where Warrick sent some of his opponents, those whose crimes didn't merit execution.
Or perhaps those he most wanted to torment.
A few minutes later, they reached the small wooden buildings at the city's edge. Most looked like homes, well-kept but small. The residents were not wealthy. In the Empire, few enjoyed true wealth.
"So how're we supposed to find Nadia?" asked Captain Davis.
Ander thought a moment. "We should check the local inns."
"But how can we know if she's arrived yet?" asked the captain.
"I have no idea," Ander said.
Chapter 42: The Prison City
The world blurred and darkened around Nadia. She felt as if her entire body were being squeezed by some malevolent force. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Panic ignited in her chest. She had to stop this. There must have been a mistake.
But then the feeling passed. She opened her eyes to find herself standing on a dirty street of cracked stone. The wooden buildings nearby looked ready to fall apart. She scanned her surroundings for danger, noting people milling about. From a distance, she had no idea if they were threatening, but she didn't want to take any chances.
Trying to appear confident, she began walking. She passed a few people who barely stopped to glance at her. They were dirty, and their clothes were little more than rags. Horrible stenches filled the air, and she held the collar of her shirt over her face.
"You lost?" asked a man nearby. "You don't look like you belong here."
"Yeah," another said. "Never seen you around here before."
"Look at her clothes," said the first man. "They look pretty nice to me."
Nadia glared at him. "They're not for sale."
Both men broke out in laughter. They were rough-looking men, bearded and middle-aged. Something about their laughter put her on edge. She wasn't quite sure if they were sane. If they'd spent a long time in this place, then surely they had suffered.
The second man shook his head. "We're not looking to buy your clothes, lady."
Nadia unsheathed her sword. "You're not taking them from me either."
"I don't know," said the first man. "I think you'd look pretty good without them."
Nadia maintained a fierce mask, hoping her fear wasn't showing. "I think you'd look pretty good without your heads. Certainly better than you look now."
The second man laughed. "You know, I think she just insulted us."
Both men had daggers. Her sword had much better reach, but she didn't know if she could take them both. They might have friends nearby.
"We can't stand for insults," said the first man.
"If you're going to attack me," Nadia said, "just go ahead and do it."
"All right," said the first man. He moved with sudden speed, catching her by surprise. She tried to raise her sword in defense, but he wrenched her arm in such a way that she lost the grip on her sword. It clattered against the cracked cobblestones. She tried to break free from his grip, but he held strong.
"Clearly not suited to survive in this place," said the second man. "Let's end her misery now." He brandished his dagger, an evil grin on his face.
The first man flashed the same kind of grin. "I bet she tastes great."
"You're disgusting!" Nadia said, struggling against his grip. Panic coursed through her. She couldn't fail now, not when she was so close to finding the cure. Her voice came out weak and pitiful. "Please, don't kill me. I’m trying to save the man I love."
The second man chuckled. "Guess we'll have to spare her now. She's got true love on her side. Can't interfere with that."
"Well, I'd still like a taste," said the first man. He yanked at Nadia's arm and brought it to his mouth. His grip was so strong she couldn't fight it, not with the second man also holding her.
The first man closed his teeth around her arm and made chewing motions, but not with enough force to break her skin.
He pulled away. "Yeah, she tastes clean. Don't get clean meat around here too often."
"Please, let me go," Nadia said. She hated the pleading tone in her voice. "What has happened to you people? You're like animals."
The second man laughed heartily. "If you think we're bad, you're not ready for this place. I don't know how you ended up in here, but if I was you, I'd find a way out as quickly as I can. You obviously don't belong here. Talk to one of the Imperial Guards."
Nadia's heart was pounding. "Does this mean you aren't going to kill me and then eat me?"
"No," said the first man. "We were just messing with you, having a bit of fun."
"If you think this was fun, there is something very wrong with you."
"This place does that to you," said the second man.
The first man finally released her.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said.
"Just remember this," said the first man. "Some people around here aren't too fussy about what they eat, or whether it's dead or alive when they eat it."
Nadia took a few steps away from them, not quite sure if they truly meant to let her leave. She grabbed her sword but didn't sheathe it. "I'll do fine. I can take care of myself."
"How long you think she'll last?" asked the second man.
"Three hours. Maybe."
Nadia strode away, passing countless other prisoners. Men who looked at her with hollow eyes. Others who leered at her. Some who stared at the walls, muttering under their breath.
There were women, too. They were so covered in dirt that she couldn't tell how old they were. One woman watched her with an unsettling gaze. Another stumbled along, talking to thin air. No one paid any attention to Nadia
As sh
e walked, she reached what appeared to be the Prison City's market district. Even the merchants here were covered in dirt, their appearances ragged and unnerving. They called out to her, hoping she'd buy something, but she didn't pay attention to them. Each makeshift wooden stall was flanked by large men, probably guards for the merchants. They eyed her warily.
The farther she walked into this place, the more it felt wrong. This was awful. She'd read about the Prison City, but she'd never understood its reality. Now she did, and she knew, more than ever, that Warrick was a monster. Only a monster could do this to his people.
People he was supposed to protect.
For the first time since beginning her quest to heal Markus, she felt the sting of her failure. She still needed to find a way to kill Warrick. His crimes could not go unpunished. But first she had to heal Markus, had to escape this place.
She wandered away from the market district, finding narrow alleys where her skin prickled. Some of these allies were occupied, the occupants staring off into space, probably lost to their isolation and madness. She felt sorry for them, but she couldn't help them.
The farther she walked, the more lost she felt. She knew she should ask somebody for help, knew that she'd never find the potion maker on her own, but she was terrified.
She stepped onto another street. One man stood farther down the street, watching her approach. He had a long, unruly beard, and his gaze made her feel sick. She thought about turning around, but she didn't want to show fear. Most of the people here simply watched her. They didn't do anything. Maybe this man would be the same.
Her pace quickened as she passed him. As if sensing her fear, he blocked her path. "Now what is a young woman like you doing here?"
Nadia decided to take a chance. "I'm looking for a man. A potion maker."
"That crazy old man? No one ever goes looking for him anymore." He stepped closer, towering over her with his large frame. "Besides, I'd make much better company."
"Thank you, but I think I'll pass. Just point me toward the potion maker."
"Things don't work like that around here." He took a threatening step toward her.
She pointed her sword at him. "Don't take another step."
He grabbed the blade of the sword with a gauntleted hand and yanked it out of her grip before flinging it across the street. She tried to scramble toward it, but his hands fastened around her arms and he tackled her to the rocky ground. When had she become so slow and weak? Had her travels tired her that much?
"You ain't going anywhere." He held a dagger to her throat and pinned her beneath his knees. "If you resist, I'll slit your throat. Don't care if you're dead or alive." He smiled wickedly. "Though I do like a good fight sometimes."
Nadia spat in his face, earning herself a blow to the head. Pain lanced through her head, and for a moment, she thought she'd pass out.
"We'll have none of that," he said. "A lady does not spit at a man."
"And a man should not rape a woman. That doesn't seem to stop you." Nadia was amazed at the strength in her words. She'd never imagined she'd be in a situation like this. It should have been terrifying, but instead she felt only anger. This man deserved to die.
"A man has needs," said her attacker. "It's up to you. You can lie back and enjoy it, or you can fight me. I'd recommend the first choice."
It might have been the smarter option, but Nadia would not sit here and let this man rape her, not without a fight. She felt tears streaming down her face and cursed herself for shedding them. It was no time for weakness.
But what about Markus? If she fought against this man and he killed her, she would never have a chance to heal Markus. Maybe it was better to let the man have his way.
But there was no guarantee he wouldn't kill her anyway.
Still pinning her to the ground, he began to rip at her clothes. He tore her shirt and pants as he pulled them off. Her heart thudded in her ears. She tried to wriggle free, but he was too heavy, and she was too weak. Her arms and legs were pinned beneath his weight.
He ripped off her undergarments, tearing them in the process, and she felt horribly exposed.
"Please, stop," she said, but it came out as a pitiful whimper.
The man grinned. "Oh, I have no intention of doing that."
Nadia closed her eyes, accepting the inevitable.
"Leave her alone."
She opened her eyes to see a large man standing over them. He wore the red surcoat of an Imperial Guard commander. His hair and beard were red, and there was something familiar about him. Maybe it was only the fact that he was an Imperial Guard.
"Just having a little fun," said her attacker.
"And I have no problem with that," said the Imperial Guard, "as long as she's having fun too. Doesn't look like that's the case here." He glanced down at Nadia. "You weren't having fun, were you?"
"No. He was about to rape me." She got to her feet shakily.
"I wasn't gonna hurt her," said her attacker.
"You were holding a knife to her throat. Forgive me if I don't believe you." The Imperial Guard took a step toward him. "It's time to do something I should've done a long time ago."
Her attacker's eyes went wide. "No! Please!"
With the quick, controlled movements of a professional, the Imperial Guard plunged his sword through the man's chest. The man's face contorted in pain, and he let out a quick gasp before falling limp.
The Imperial Guard removed the sword. "He won't trouble you again."
"Thank you," Nadia said, tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and held her legs together as if that could hide her nakedness.
The Imperial Guard noticed her embarrassment. He removed his surcoat and wrapped it around her. It was long enough that it covered everything that needed covering.
"I'll find you some better clothes. Looks like yours are nothing but rags now."
"Why are you helping me?" Nadia asked.
"I'm the law here. It's my job to protect people like you. I can tell you don't belong here. I'm the commander here, so I see every prisoner when they're brought in. You aren't one of them. I have no idea how you got in here, but you need to get out as soon as possible."
"I can't do that," Nadia said. Her legs were trembling so much she could barely stand. "I came here to find a potion maker. He's the only one who can save the man I love."
"I know of this potion maker. Come with me and I can take you to him."
Nadia grabbed the potion recipe from her ruined clothes. Then, holding the Imperial Guard's surcoat tight around her, she began walking beside him. "Why do I feel like I've seen you somewhere before?"
He looked away. "No idea. Let's go find the potion maker."
Chapter 43: Faces from the Past
Nadia went with the Imperial Guard to the small building he called home. Still, she thought there was something familiar about him. Looking at his face made her feel angry, though she couldn't figure out why. He'd just saved her life. Why would she be angry?
"You never told me your name," she said as they stepped through his door.
"Oh, sorry. Must've been distracted. Name's Alten."
The name meant nothing to her at first, but then she remembered. Her mother had mentioned the name in passing. Alten Ross used to be the highest-ranking Imperial Guard commander in Crayden. The implications of that revelation swept through her like wildfire.
She recognized his face, his red beard. He'd been there when her mother was arrested.
He'd swung the axe that killed her.
Nadia stopped a few feet into the house, overcome by a sudden rush of emotion. She took a few steps away from him, trying to hold back tears.
He must have noticed her apprehension because he frowned at her, looking confused. "Something wrong?"
She took a breath. "I know who you are."
"Oh."
"Is that all you have to say?"
He ran a hand through his beard. "I was hoping you wouldn't figure
it out."
She took a few more steps away from him. How could she put any trust in the man who'd killed her mother? This man was not a simple Imperial Guard, not a warden of the Prison City. He was a man who'd had power in the Imperial Guard ranks, a man who'd let countless horrible deeds take place under his watch. It didn't matter that he'd saved her life.
"I'm sorry, Nadia," he said. "I doubt you can ever forgive me."
She took another step back, running into the wooden wall. "Wait. How do you know who I am? I never told you my name."
"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Warrick told me you'd be coming and I should look for you because you needed my protection. I don't know how he knew this or why he'd want to protect you, but that's what he told me."
To his credit, he had stayed where he was instead of stepping toward her.
"Then what you told me before was a bunch of lies?" she asked. "You said your duty is to protect people like me. But would you have protected me if Warrick hadn't told you to?"
"Yes, I would have. No matter what you might think of me, I am not a bad man."
"You killed my mother!" she said, rage welling up inside her. How dare he speak to her as if he could be forgiven! But as quickly as the anger had come, it disappeared. She felt suddenly weak, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you really?" she demanded.
He ran a hand through his beard again. To her surprise, he looked truly anxious. Did he care what she thought of him, or was something else going on here?
"I am truly sorry," he said. "The day after you lost your mother, I was transferred to this place. Here, I've seen the dark side of Warrick's empire. I always believed in what I was doing as an Imperial Guard, but I can't believe in this. This place is cruel. Disgusting. I've made it my mission in life to protect those who don't belong here. People like you."
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