I jerked back, hitting the wall. A yelp escaped my lips before I could shove my hand into my mouth.
“I thought you were gone for good,” I whispered.
“Never, Yelena. I will always be with you. My blood has soaked into your soul. You have no chance of cleansing me away.”
“I have no soul,” I said under my breath.
Reyad laughed. “Your soul is drenched black with the blood of your victims, my dear, that is why you can’t see it. When you die, that heavy blood-filled essence will sink to the bottom of the earth where you will burn in eternity for your crimes.”
“From the voice of experience,” I whispered with a rage that made my voice hiss.
Valek came out of Reyad’s room. With a face pale as bone, he stared at me with a horrified expression so long that I wondered if he had been struck dumb. Finally, closing the door, Valek walked past the ghost without seeing him, then stopped at the next locked room, pausing a moment with his head bowed to press a hand to his forehead.
“ There’s someone who really needs to be haunted,” Reyad said, stabbing a ghostly white finger at Valek. “It’s a shame he doesn’t let his demons bother him, because I know a certain dead King that would love to plague him.” Reyad looked at me. “Only the weak invite their demons to live with them. Isn’t that right?”
I refused to answer Reyad as I followed Valek. We continued our search but it was obvious that, other than the laboratory, the wing had been abandoned. There were three doors left.
While Valek picked the two locks, Reyad chatted on. “My father will soon send you to me, Yelena. I’m looking forward to spending eternity with you.” He leered and wiggled his fingers at me.
But I was no longer interested in the ghost. The contents of the room before me riveted my attention. Inside, dozens of women and a few men flinched from the yellow beam of Valek’s lantern. Greasy hair obscured their dirt-streaked faces. Rags clung to their emaciated bodies. None of them spoke or cried out. To my increasing horror, I realized they were chained to the floor. In circles. One outer circle and two inner rings with lines painted between them.
When Valek and I stepped into the room, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and excrement wafted through the air. Gagging, I covered my mouth. Valek moved among them, asking questions. Who are you? Why are you here? His queries were met with silence. Their vacant eyes followed his passage. They remained where they were chained, staring.
I began to recognize some of the grubby faces. They had lived in the orphanage with me. They were the older girls and boys who had “graduated” and were supposed to be employed throughout the district. The sight of one girl, her ginger hair dull and matted, finally made me cry out in pain.
Carra’s soft brown eyes held no sign of intelligence as I stroked her shoulder and whispered her name. The free-spirited girl I had cared for in the orphanage had become a mindless, empty shell of a woman.
“My students,” Reyad said. His chest puffed out in pride as he floated in the middle of the room.
“The ones who didn’t fail.”
“What now?” I asked Valek with a shaky voice.
“You’re arrested and thrown in the dungeon,” Mogkan answered from the entrance.
Valek and I spun in unison. Mogkan loomed in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Valek charged him; fury blazed in his eyes. Mogkan stepped back into the hallway. I saw Valek stop just past the doorway and raise his hands in the air. Damn, I thought, racing to help him.
Mogkan stood like a coward behind eight guards. The tips of their swords were aimed mere inches from Valek’s chest.
Chapter Thirty
As sword points pricked my back, I watched Valek, expecting him to spring into action during the whole miserable trip to Brazell’s holding cells. I waited for him to blur into motion as they stripped and searched us, enduring the humiliation of being prodded and poked by rough hands as they confiscated my backpack, switchblade and necklace. Losing my clothing didn’t upset me as much as losing Valek’s butterfly and my amulet.
I prepared for a sudden jailbreak when we were led down into the prison, and was still waiting as we were shoved into adjoining cells.
I held my breath as the heavy metal lock clanged shut on our underground chambers. The soldiers tossed our clothing in through the bars. Then they left, abandoning us to blackness. I fumbled with my uniform, trying to button my shirt in the dark.
Here I was again. A nightmare turned real as we went through the guardroom, down one flight of steps, and into Brazell’s small dungeon, which only contained eight cells, four on each side of a short corridor. Valek and I were in the two cells closest and to the left of the steps. A familiarly loud, rancid stench permeated the prison. The thick, silty air so overpowered my senses that it took me a while to realize we were the only occupants.
Unable to bear the sudden quiet, I asked, “Valek?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you fight the guards? I would have helped you.”
“Eight men had drawn swords pointed at my chest. Any sudden movement and I would have been skewered. I’m flattered that you think I could win against those odds. Four armed opponents, maybe, but eight is definitely too many.”
I could hear the amusement in Valek’s voice.
“Then we pick the locks and make our escape?” My confidence was based on the fact that Valek was a master assassin and trained fighter, a man who wouldn’t stay confined for long.
“That would be ideal, provided we had something to pick them with,” Valek replied, dashing my hopes.
I searched my cell with my hands. Finding nothing but filthy straw, rat droppings and unrecognizable muck, I sank to the floor with my back against the one stone wall I shared with Valek.
After a long moment, Valek asked, “Was that your fate? If you hadn’t killed Reyad, were you slated to be chained to the floor, mindless?”
The image of those captives burned in my mind. My flesh crawled. For the first time, I was content to have failed Reyad’s tests.
As I thought more about them, I remembered a comment Irys had made regarding a magician’s ability to steal magic from others. Finally, the significance of the women and men sitting in circles hit me. Mogkan’s extra power came from those chained captives. Brazell, Reyad and Mogkan must have screened the children of the orphanage for magical potential. Then, while experimenting on them, Mogkan had wiped their minds clean, leaving them mindless vessels from which to draw more power.
“I think Brazell and Reyad were determined to reduce me to that mental state. But I endured.” I explained my theory about the captives to Valek.
“Tell me what happened to you,” Valek said, his voice tight.
I paused. Then my tale flowed from my lips, in bits and pieces at first, but the words soon gushed with the same speed as the tears streaking down my face. I didn’t spare him any details. I didn’t gloss over the unpleasant parts. Telling Valek everything about my two years as a laboratory rat, Reyad’s tortures and torments, the cruel games, the humiliations, the beatings, the longing to be good for Reyad, and, finally, the rape that led to murder, I purged myself of the black stain of Reyad. I felt light-headed with the release.
Valek remained silent throughout my disclosure, neither commenting nor questioning. Finally, with ice crystallizing in his voice he said, “Brazell and Mogkan will be destroyed.”
Promise or a threat, I couldn’t tell, but with all of Valek’s force behind it, it was more than idle talk.
As if they had heard their names, Brazell and Mogkan stepped through the main door of the dungeon. Four guards holding lanterns escorted them. They stopped at our cells.
“It’s good to see you back where you belong,” Brazell said to me. “My desire to feel your blood on my hands has tempted me, but Mogkan has kindly informed me of your fate, should you not receive your antidote.” Brazell paused, and smiled with pure satisfaction. “Seeing my son’s killer writhing in excruciating pain will be bett
er justice. I’ll visit later to hear your screams. And if you beg me, I might put you out of your misery, just so I can breathe in the hot scent of your blood.”
Brazell’s gaze bored into Valek’s cell. “Disobeying a direct order is a capital offense. Commander Ambrose has signed your death warrant. Your hanging is scheduled for noon tomorrow.” Brazell cocked his head, appraising Valek like a thoroughbred. “I think I shall have your head stuffed and mounted. You’ll make an effective decoration in my office when I become Commander.”
Laughing, Brazell and Mogkan left the dungeon. The darkness that flowed in after them felt even heavier than before. It pressed against my chest, giving me a tight, panicky feeling around my ribs. I paced my cell. My emotions swung from sheer terror to overwhelming despondency. I kicked at the bars, threw straw into the air and pounded on the walls.
“Yelena,” Valek finally said, “settle down. Get some sleep; you’ll need your strength for tonight.”
“Oh yeah, everyone needs to be well rested to die,” I said, but regretted my harshness when I remembered that Valek, too, faced death. “I’ll try.”
I lay on the foul straw, knowing it was futile to try and rest. How could anyone sleep her last hours away?
Apparently, I could.
I woke with a cry. My nightmare about rats melded with reality as I felt a warm, furry mass resting on my legs. Leaping to my feet, I kicked the rodent. It crashed into the wall and skittered away.
“Nice nap?” Valek asked.
“I’ve had better. My sleeping companion snored.”
Valek grunted in amusement.
“How long was I out?”
“It’s hard to tell without the sun. I’m guessing it’s close to sunset.”
I had received my last dose of antidote yesterday morning. That gave me until tomorrow morning to live, but the symptoms of the poison would take hold sometime tonight.
“Valek, I have a confess…” My throat closed. My stomach muscles contracted with such severity that I felt as if someone were trying to rip them from my body.
“What’s the matter?”
“Stomach cramp from hell,” I said, still gasping even though the pain had subsided. “Is this the start?”
“Yes. They begin slowly, but soon the convulsions will be continuous.”
Another wave of agony hit, and I crumpled to the floor. When it passed, I crawled to my straw bed, waiting for the next assault. Unable to endure the anticipation in silence, I said, “Valek, talk to me. Tell me something to distract me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t care. Anything.”
“Here’s something you can take some comfort from—there’s no poison called Butterfly’s Dust.”
“What?” I wanted to scream at him, but a doubling-over, vomit-inducing convulsion hit, causing my abdominal muscles to feel as if they were being shredded with a knife.
When I was sensible again, Valek explained, “You’re going to want to die, wish you were already dead, but in the end you’ll be quite alive.”
“Why tell me now?”
“The mind controls the body. If you believed that you were going to die, then you might have died from that conviction alone.”
“Why wait until now to tell me?” I demanded, furious. He could have relieved my anguish.
“A tactical decision.”
I bit back a nasty reply. I tried to see his logic; to put myself in his place. My training sessions with Ari and Janco had included strategy and tactics. Janco had compared sparring to a card game. “Keep your best moves close to your chest and only use them when you’ve nothing left,” he had said.
An opportunity to escape might have presented itself during the day. In that case Valek wouldn’t have to show his last card and tell me about the poison.
“What about the cramps?” I asked just as another one seized my body. I rolled into a tight ball hoping to relieve some of the pain, but to no avail.
“Withdrawal symptoms.”
“From what?”
“Your so-called antidote,” Valek said. “It’s an interesting concoction. I use it to make someone sick. As the potion wears off, it produces stomach cramps worthy of a day in bed. It’s perfect for putting someone temporarily out of commission without killing him. If you continue to drink it, then the symptoms are forestalled until you stop.”
Of all the books I had studied, I didn’t recall reading about a tonic like that. “What’s the name?”
“White Fright.”
The knowledge that I wasn’t going to die erased the frightened panic and helped me to endure the pain. I viewed each contraction as a step that must be taken in order for me to be free of the substance.
“What about Butterfly’s Dust?” I asked.
“Doesn’t exist. I made it up. It sounded good. I needed some threat to keep the food tasters from running away without using guards or locked doors.”
An unwelcome thought popped into my head. “Does the Commander know it’s a ruse?” If he did, Mogkan would also know.
“No. He believes you’ve been poisoned.”
During the night, it was hard for me to remember that I had not been poisoned. Torturous cramps refused to release me. I crawled around the cell, retching and screaming.
I was vaguely aware, at one point, of Brazell and Mogkan gloating over me. I didn’t care that they watched. I didn’t care that they laughed. All I cared about was finding a position that would alleviate the pain.
Finally, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
I woke lying on the muck-covered floor of the cell. My right arm stretched through the bars. I marveled more over the fact that I clutched Valek’s hand than the fact that I was alive.
“Yelena, are you all right?” The concern in Valek’s voice was evident.
“I think so,” I replied with a rasp. My throat burned with thirst.
A clank rang out as someone unlocked the prison door.
“Play dead,” Valek whispered, releasing my hand. “Try to get them close to my cell,” he instructed as two guards came into the dungeon. I yanked my Valek-warmed hand into the cell, and poked my ice-cold left hand out just as the men descended the stairs.
“Damn! The stench down here’s worse than the latrine after a brew party,” said the guard holding the lantern.
“You think she’s dead?” the second guard asked.
With my face to the wall, I closed my eyes and held my breath as the yellow light swept my body.
The guard touched my hand. “Cold as snow-cat piss. Let’s drag her out before she starts to rot. You think it smells bad now…” The snap of the lock was followed by a squeak of metal as the cell door opened.
I concentrated on being a dead weight while the guard dragged me out by my feet. When the light moved away from me, I risked a peek. The guard with the lantern walked ahead to light the way, leaving my upper body in darkness. As we passed Valek’s cell, I seized the bars with both hands.
“Ugh. Hold up, she’s stuck.”
“On what?” the lantern guard asked.
“I don’t know. Come back here with that bloody light.”
I released my grip, hooking my arm inside the cell.
“Back off,” the lantern guard warned Valek.
His meaty hand tugged at my elbow. Then he grunted softly. I opened my eyes in time to see the lantern’s light extinguish as it toppled to the ground.
“What the hell?” the other man exclaimed. He was still holding my feet. He backed away from Valek’s bars.
I bent my legs, pulling my body close to his boots. He yelped with surprise when I grabbed his ankles. He tripped and fell back.
The sickening crunch of bone striking stone wasn’t what I expected. His body went limp. I stood on shaky legs.
Hearing a thud and the jingle of keys, I turned back in time to see Valek lighting the lantern. The other guard was propped against the bars, his head cocked at an unnatural angle.
In the weak glow, I gazed at the p
rone form at my feet. The soldier’s head had struck the edge of the bottom step. A black liquid began to pool around my boots. I had just killed another man. I began to tremble. A fourth man had died because of me. Had the robbing of my soul reduced me to a heartless killer? Did Valek feel any remorse or guilt when he took a life? I watched him through a veil of blood.
Efficient as always, Valek stripped the dead guards of their weapons.
“Wait here,” he instructed. Unlocking the main door of the prison, he sprang through the entrance to the guardroom.
Shouts, grunts and the sound of flesh striking flesh reached my ears as I waited on the stairway. No remorse, no guilt, Valek did what he had to for his side to win.
When Valek motioned me to join him, I saw that blood had splattered on his face, chest and arms. Three guards, either unconscious or dead, were strewn about the room.
My backpack sat on a table, its contents scattered about. I stuffed everything back in while Valek tried to open the remaining locked door between freedom and us. Although meager, I wanted my possessions, including my butterfly and amulet, back. Once I wrapped the chain around my neck, I felt strangely optimistic.
“Damn,” Valek said.
“What?”
“The Captain has the only key to this door. He will open it when it’s time to change the guards.”
“Try these.” I handed Valek my picks.
He grinned.
While he worked on the lock, I found a pitcher of water and a wash barrel. The fear of being caught couldn’t override the desire to rinse off my face and hands. But that was not enough. The need to rid myself of the stench of vomit and blood overpowered me. Soon, I was dumping buckets of water over my head until I was soaked through. I drained half the water pitcher before I thought to offer some to Valek. He stopped to drink, then continued to pick the lock.
Finally, it popped open. Valek peered out into the hallway. “Perfect. No guards.” He pulled the door wide. “Let’s go.”
Taking my hand and a lantern, Valek turned away from our only escape, and led me back down into the prison, pausing to leave the door to the cells wide open as well.
Poison Study - Study 1 s-1 Page 28
