by Megan Derr
Black arcen. It was made from the deep red petals of an arcen flower kept alive long after it should have died. It was also illegal. Anyone caught with it was put immediately to death—assuming the black arcen didn't kill them first. It was, though he hated to admit it, a sign of Jaspar's strength that he could drink it with aplomb.
At least for now. At some point his heart would simply give out—or explode. "Thank you, but no."
Jaspar laughed and returned the vial to his robe. "There will come a day, Tawn, unless you stop now."
Tawn said nothing, merely emptied the case and threw it aside. He tucked the vials away into special compartments in his boots. "If my Brothers are done with me, I have business to which I must attend."
"Then by all means go," Tiad said. "Deal with the traitors."
"As you command," Tawn said and left the room laughing.
Chapter Eighteen
Beraht woke with a start and spent several confused minutes trying to figure out where he was.
Illussor. His bedroom. He returned there after he'd finally convinced Esta to let them stop. She'd been deadly determined to teach him every last dance she knew and then Sol had actually taught them a few Salharan dances. That had been embarrassing, but when would he have ever learned how to dance? He wasn't like Esta or Sol or even that bastard. Ballroom dancing was something nobles learned, not nameless peasants.
Beraht shoved the stupid thoughts aside. It was… he looked out the window. Black, save for the faintest bits of moonlight. It was far too late at night or early in the morning to be awake, let alone thinking about his idiotic dancing lessons. He was cold. It must have been that which had woken him—sometime in the night he'd thrown his blankets off. Why in the stars had he done an idiotic thing like that? He climbed out of the bed to retrieve the quilts that had wound up on the floor; by the time he had everything back on the bed, he was almost hot from the exertion.
Sleep refused to return even after he'd returned to the warm blankets. He stared out the window across the room, seeing not much more than the black sky. He turned over and stared at the wall.
His mind wandered from one thought to another but refused to land on anything—not even thinking about his current situation or mulling over the bastard's treatment from a few days before, stars take him anyway.
Why couldn't he sleep?
Irritably Beraht threw off the blankets and climbed out of bed. Maybe something to drink. That had always helped when he'd been too wound up to sleep in camp. He really didn't feel like walking the distance to the kitchens, however, and he hated to wake a servant for such a thing. It still didn't sit well with him, ordering servants around. He'd kill anyone who forced him to wake up at such a hideous hour simply to fetch a drink.
Beraht played with the fire, the littlest bit of arcen left in his system enough to stoke it. Lately he had been getting strange looks—Esta had explained the Illussor were beginning to feel his raw magic. Uncorrupt, they called it. Pure, von Adolwulf liked to say in his sneering, grating tone that said quite clearly he thought Beraht the exact opposite. Stars refuse the man anyway.
With a snarl of frustration, Beraht returned to bed, shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep. It wasn't working. Something had him wound up and too tense to relax.
But what? If it wasn't the cold which had woken him, what was it? He'd noticed nothing amiss when he'd woken except the lack of blankets. Perhaps he was losing his mind. What was he doing here, anyway? He was an unwanted Salharan with a Krian name given by a man who hated him for trying to scrape out an existence. He wasn't the sort who did things like saving people. Then again, destroying the magic upon which an entire country relied was exactly the sort of thing he did, though he'd never done it on quite on that scale.
Beraht sought desperately for something else to think about. Esta. She was pretty—and fun. Nor did she seem to mind that her hero—he snorted—was a Salharan peasant with a Krian name. At least she didn't know why he had it.
Was it so hard for that bloody bastard to understand? Who enjoyed killing men in their sleep? Certainly not he. But it had been the only way. He was useless with open combat; his skills had always been in sneaking around. It was a skill born of a desperate need for food, clothes, or whatever a scrawny kid with no name could get his hands on.
How many times had he seen the looks in the eyes of those few other nameless? A look that begged and screamed for existence. No one had ever given it to them, and a nameless could not give what he didn't have.
Now he was stuck with a Krian name. What existence was there in that? He was still no one; he was the Breaker only until he did it. Assuming he lived afterwards, he would return to being nothing. There was no welcome for someone who ruined lives that way. No wonder they couldn't use an Illussor for the job—never mind the claim that they couldn't find one.
It was much easier to blame it all on a Salharan. Esta had not struck him as being that cruel, but then again, Beraht had greatly admired the Captain who had, upon his death, made his nameless lieutenant a Seven Star Brother. He'd been convinced that meant he was worth something—only to find out he had simply been the most expedient, secure way to return the Seven Star Mark to the Brothers.
Beraht buried his head in his pillow. Stirring up things he'd like to forget was not going to improve his chances of going back to sleep. Wrestling with the unhappy thoughts proved exhausting, however, and he did not even notice when he drifted off several minutes later.
*~*~*
Beraht.
This time, he did not wake up with a start. He murmured softly, turned toward the soft voice. It was both near and far, almost intimate, though he could not determine why.
Beraht. Come.
He moved slowly, sliding out of bed and putting his boots on. He was still asleep, though his eyes were open. Beraht put on his clothes and boots then he left the room.
Behind him another door opened. Beraht didn't notice as he continued to walk slowly and stiffly, following the sound of the near-far voice calling to him through the palace, down the stairs, and out through the garden.
From the pocket of his jacket he pulled a key that had been given to him by Matthias only the day before. He had been given strict instructions not to go into the tunnel unless Matthias or Esta was with him, but they'd also wanted him to have access should anything happen.
He continued to walk, traveling the dark stairs and darker underground tunnel as though he had done so all his life. His movements were slow and heavy, punctuated by the fact that he was still asleep.
Were he awake, he would have noticed the figure behind following him, but asleep, he would not have noticed even a man standing right in front of him. He walked on, slow but unhesitating. The door at the end made him pause as he fumbled in his jacket for the second key Matthias had trusted to him. A minute later he opened it and walked into the Crystal Chamber.
Beraht.
… You are Benji.
Yes. I'm so glad you've come to see me.
See you? What for?
To make me stronger.
Beraht frowned in his sleep. Something—something wasn't right—but what? Stronger?
Yes. That's what this chamber is for—it amplifies the power of the Illussor. They only put in one, but this room… it could handle more. Should handle more. Don't you want to help?
He was helping, but not the way Benji meant. What was wrong? Sleeping and waking began to war in his mind, but that voice, which some part of him realized was in his head, kept him sleeping. Beraht struggled to wake, but only fell back into sleeping. They don't need more power.
Of course they do. It's why they made this: for power. We could be stronger than everyone. Better. Something. Someone.
Someone…
Come. Be my brother. We can make the Illussor brighter than ever.
Beraht struggled for an argument, but could find none. What could be wrong with making everyone stronger? That sounded better than making them weaker. Of what u
se was weakness? None.
He reached out a hand toward the small crystal that was held by the too-still hands of the Keeper. One touch was all it would take, and—
Pain exploded in his head, and Beraht saw stars through the tears of pain blurring his vision. He held his head in his hands, muttering every curse he could think of. Then it dawned on him that he didn't know what was going on. Cautiously, he opened his eyes—and gaped. Two things immediately struck his vision: He was in the Crystal Chamber, and von Adolwulf was glaring at him.
Well, if von Adolwulf was angry things couldn't be too wrong. "Why are we down here?"
"As you're the one who woke me up and then decided to take a stroll, I think it would make more sense if I asked you that." Von Adolwulf's arms hung at his side, loose but clearly he was all too ready to grab Beraht and throw him into the nearest wall.
Which, Beraht realized, was exactly what the bastard had done. "I think you damn near split my head open. Do you know how to be gentle?"
"Gentle?" von Adolwulf sneered. "You were about to ruin everything. If you'd touched that," he motioned behind him to Benji, and the perfect, round crystal he held in his hands, "as you were about to, everything would have been worse. I don't know much about what's going on, but I understand that much. Tits of the Winter Princess, Beraht! What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," Beraht said with a frown, ignoring von Adolwulf's snort. "I was asleep—I think—I don't remember anymore. Though that might be more from being thrown into a wall."
Von Adolwulf sneered and stalked toward him, pulling Beraht forward. "Your head is fine. At least, you're no worse than usual. If I hadn't done so, right now you'd be responsible for something far worse than ridding these people of magic. I will never understand why everyone is so upset by that; they are better off rid of it."
"You've never had magic," Beraht snapped. "You don't understand anything about it."
"Is there something special about it?" von Adolwulf asked. He sank his hand into Beraht's hair and pulled his head back so Beraht was forced to look up at him. His other hand rested on Beraht's head just around his eye, finger and thumb opening Beraht's eye wide. "The way it makes your heart beat too fast? Your muscles ache? The bitter taste? Is it the warmth? The way it burns and makes you forget that you use it to hurt and kill? Or do you enjoy the headaches and hunger and restlessness that come when you haven't had any? Do you look forward to the day it will eventually kill you? I've never seen it, but I've heard of it—that all victims of arcen die with black eyes, and no one can tell if the red pouring from their bodies is blood or arcen."
Beraht fought a shudder, but he knew by the gleam in those jade eyes that von Adolwulf had noticed. Stars refuse the man. How did a man who eschewed it know so much about arcen? Not that it surprised him. "Let me go."
Von Adolwulf did so. "Are the Illussor any better? This," he motioned to the room, "seems even worse than your country's addiction. Krians may be good at war, but we were never guilty of such things as this."
"Oh? Do tell me how that confounded Coliseum is any better," Beraht demanded.
"I never once said I approved of the Coliseum," von Adolwulf said coolly. "It is still a far cry from what the Salharans and Illussor do."
Beraht turned away. "You play high and mighty all you want—you're as terrible as the rest of us. The only difference is that you're famous for it in three countries." He strode out of the chamber before von Adolwulf could kill him.
He heard von Adolwulf's steps and waited for the inevitable blow. None came.
Von Adolwulf fell into step alongside him, though in the dark tunnel Beraht could not see him clearly. Stars, he hated this place. Could they have designed anything more eerie? Then again if he'd been a sneak thief or someone intent on ruining the Illussor, he'd have thought twice about this tunnel. He doubted he'd have been willing to come down here completely alone. Even the darkest night wasn't as black as this. The torches were all but dead; whoever maintained them would not be checking them for some time yet.
Beraht shivered and realized that he was cold. Again. Stars he hated these cold countries!
Von Adolwulf led the way out and locked the door behind them. Beraht yawned as they walked, barely noticing anything beyond the utter stillness of the palace. Had he really walked all the way down to the Crystal Chamber in his sleep? Stars, he hoped it didn't happen again.
He continued on toward his own room when von Adolwulf stopped at his own door, but a hand around his arm halted his steps. "No," von Adolwulf said.
"Stars refuse you!" Beraht snapped. "I would like to go to sleep. If you want to continue bickering—"
Von Adolwulf shoved Beraht inside his room and locked the door. "You can't be trusted not to wander off again," he said. "You'll stay here where I can watch you until everything is finished."
"I don't think so," Beraht said. "I don't need you watching over me."
"Because you did so well sleeping by yourself."
Beraht resisted the urge to hit him. He wasn't feeling quite that stupid yet. "I'm not your prisoner anymore; I'm not sleeping any closer to you than I absolutely have to. Even next door is more than I can stand."
"Feel threatened even through a wall, Beraht?"
"Stop saying my name!" Beraht snapped. He flinched when his own word struck him. It wasn't his name. It had been forced upon him. He wasn't Beraht. Feeling sick, anxious to get away from the man staring at him with those too-sharp eyes, Beraht turned to flee. Von Adolwulf grabbed him and hauled him back.
"You're not going anywhere. Not unless you're one hundred percent positive that it won't happen again. Is that what you want to tell the people who have decided you're some damned hero? Tell Esta? That you ruined their lives by sleepwalking?"
Beraht tried to pull away. "Then lock the door. If I really wanted, I'm sure I could get out of here regardless."
"If your walking around in your room wakes me up, what makes you think I'd sleep through your trying to escape from in here?" von Adolwulf smirked as he removed his sword and belt, then shucked his outermost layer of clothing. "Surely you're used to sleeping with me by now, Beraht."
"No one gets used to you," Beraht snapped. "I am not staying here." He hadn't even finished turning around, however, when von Adolwulf snatched him back again—and this time kept moving, using his own momentum to throw Beraht into bed.
"Stay there," von Adolwulf said. "If you try to leave again, I'll tie you down."
Beraht glared hatefully, but when he sat up it was only to remove his boots—which he threw at von Adolwulf. He seethed all the more when both were caught. "I hate you."
"You say that like I care." Von Adolwulf waited until he was satisfied Beraht wasn't going anywhere, then moved to the table near the fire and picked up a book.
Unable to muster further energy to keep protesting, Beraht tamped down on his rage until he could find a way to get von Adolwulf back and closed his eyes, determined to go to sleep—and not wake up with the back of his head banging against crystal. Stars, that had hurt. His head still ached.
*~*~*
Dieter looked up as the air in the room changed. The anger had faded. He stood up and glanced at the bed where Beraht had fallen asleep somewhere in the pile of blankets. As expected. The idiot could sleep just about anywhere once he stopped getting in a snit about it. Salharans got so touchy about where they slept—did it matter so long as they were warm and rested?
He went back to the fire and picked up his book on Illussor history. He had been hoping to find some small period of time when they had used some form of weaponry. Anything that might have devolved and which he could use to teach them proper combat. No such luck.
So it looked as though it would be harder even than getting Beraht to shut up and stand still. But that aside, the Illussor had an interesting history. It was a pity they'd chosen to rely so heavily on magic. Then again, he thought with a trace of amusement, if they'd gone the other route, it was possible Kria would have had a r
eal problem on their hands rather than merely a persistant annoyance.
The problem of knowing how to fight aside, all the practice in the world would not solve the dilemma of having no weapons nor anyone to make them. Craftsmen worked for years, if not a lifetime, to master their skills. He doubted anyone of the necessary caliber existed in Illussor—at least not anyone that would be willing to step forward.
He closed his book with a snap and stared into the fire. Nothing he could do about it at the moment. Even leaving the palace to explore other possibilities was not an option. There were more than a few Illussor who would gladly put the full force of their abilities forward to kill the Wolf of Kria.
It made him tired. Was there— Dieter killed the thought. It was a waste of time. He stood up and set the book aside, then strode to the window. How were his men? Had the Kaiser ordered them killed? Would he force them to do something to make up for Dieter's betrayal? Not that the Kaiser knew where he was, but he would accuse Dieter of betrayal all the same.
There was movement from the bed. Dieter turned sharply around and watched as Beraht began to talk in that low voice he had been using earlier. He wondered how furious Beraht would be to learn that not only was he walking in his sleep, but talking. Dieter would save that little jewel of information until it could be used to full effect.
Beraht was speaking that nonsense again. Dieter moved toward the door, blocking it. He almost laughed when Beraht went straight to where his boots had landed after Dieter had caught and dropped them. Then he started walking toward the door and stumbled to a halt when there proved to be an obstacle.
Dieter reached out and shook him hard by the shoulders. He smirked the moment realization returned to Beraht's face.
"Shut up," Beraht snarled, swinging out to catch Dieter on the chest and jerking away when Dieter caught his wrist and held fast. "I hate you. Stars, can't I get one good night's sleep?" He rubbed his face. "Why can't we just get it over with?"
