by B. T. Narro
Soon the wide hole was deep enough for anyone to notice who glanced that way. He went to his bed and got his measly sheet, then put it over his lap and the hole, just in case someone came. Kirnich had given up on conversation.
Desil wasn’t sure why he felt this exhausted, but it must’ve been the same for Kirnich. As he worked to push the floor away, he asked the warrior, “Why would they believe Beatrix, rather than Allephon, killed her father?”
“Were you close enough to hear me during the trip here?”
“No, but I figured you would argue for her and get a response out of them. You were an officer, after all. These were your men, right?”
“I did argue for her, and I did get a response from them. But let me make something clear. I oversaw none of the men here. I know most of them, and they know me like a warrior at the Academy would know an instructor he’s never had, through reputation and gossip. It’s the same for Beatrix. They know she went to the Academy and was at the top of her year in psyche, but what else they think they know comes from Allephon.”
“So they assume she’s…” Desil couldn’t say the insult aloud.
“A heartless bitch.”
“I was under the impression that it was Allephon who was the selfish and arrogant one of the family.”
“He is, though Beatrix has had to deal with his childish nature more than the others because he’s jealous of her. She has a way of inadvertently making him lash out. She isn’t a heartless bitch. Her only crime is keeping mostly to herself. Allephon is the opposite, or he was before he was king.” The word seemed to give Kirnich pain as he grumbled. “He would dine and drink with many of these soldiers. He told stories of his conquests of women. He divulged slivers of information from meetings with his father. Women swooned over him, and he wasn’t interested in them all, so he introduced some to the soldiers. They didn’t just trust him. They thought of him as a friend. Beatrix was not. When the king was poisoned, they blamed the psychic who ran off right before it happened rather than their trusted friend who stayed by his stricken father’s side day and night.”
“Some must at least suspect it was Allephon. The crown would go to him, not Beatrix.”
“Those men are still by the Tenred wall.”
Desil heard footsteps. He’d made good progress scooping out the softened stone, now sitting in a little ditch, but he still had to clear enough masonry underneath the bars to slide through. He couldn’t tell the direction of the footsteps because of the echo. He ensured his rough sheet covered all and waited.
“It really is you, Kirnich,” said a familiar voice, dim with gloom. “Is what I heard true? Did you and Beatrix attack the king?”
“The king is dead.”
“I’ll take that to mean you did, and in front of his entire army as well. After what you put me and the others through trying to find you, I’m disappointed you were captured so easily.” The man came toward Desil as he spoke.
It was the younger Girgis brother, his sword already in hand. He stopped right behind Desil without speaking.
Desil wasn’t comfortable with his back against the bars, but he couldn’t move without revealing the shallow, wide hole. It was a good thing the light was dim, because even the sheet couldn’t have hid what he was doing.
“Turn around,” Girgis demanded. Desil still hadn’t learned the man’s first name and didn’t care to find out.
Desil turned his head halfway. “Leave me alone,” he said in a sorrowful voice.
Girgis pushed a sword tip into Desil’s spine. “Turn around!”
Desil gritted his teeth and didn’t respond.
Girgis chuckled in a mean way, but at least he pulled back his sword. “Crying with your blanket like a baby? I know it’s you, Desil. I should’ve known you would be this cowardly. You attacked me from behind at your tavern, like only a coward would.”
Kirnich called out, “If you came down here just to taunt us, then you’re the coward.”
It worked to draw Girgis back to Kirnich’s cell. “A coward wouldn’t chase you around Ovira with only two other men, ready to face six of you!”
“Face us? Hah! You, Micklin, and Erwal would never win in a fair fight, and you know this. You planned to ambush us, and you still would’ve lost.”
Desil returned to pulling out chunks of the softened stone. It was difficult to separate it from itself, the noise like pulling meet off bone. Fortunately, Kirnich was loud and Girgis was even louder.
“This is why I’m going to kill you when I have the chance,” Girgis said. “You attempt to shame me over nothing.”
“You stole from the citizens you swore to protect. You shame yourself.”
“Pennies! It was pennies I took! If it wasn’t for Allephon, I would be still be in that cell. I told him to put you in the same one if you were captured. That way you would know how it felt. Tell me, officer. How does it feel to be treated like a criminal?”
Desil couldn’t figure out if Girgis would stay until someone else arrived or if he planned to leave, which would give Desil a chance to free himself and Kirnich without being seen.
They still had to find Beatrix and get out. Desil squelched his panic as it started to surface. One step at a time.
There was a clang of metal against metal. “If you want a fight, then get me out of here. I will beat you without a weapon, you with that damn sword you keep pointing at me.” It sounded as if Kirnich had kicked the blade or slapped it into the bars.
“I’d rather keep you alive so I can visit you whenever I want.”
Desil turned around for a better look, as it sounded like Girgis might be leaving.
Desil’s heart sank as he watched Girgis walk out of view but not into the hall. He heard the man shuffling as if to sit. A moment of silence followed.
“How long are you going to waste your time sitting there watching me?” Kirnich asked.
“I’m paid every day, no matter what I do. Being here is no waste. Can’t say the same about you.”
“How long?” Kirnich asked again, plainly irritated.
“I’m going to enjoy this sight until I get bored. The real entertainment is how long I decide to wait before giving you food or water. Did you hear all of that, Desil?”
If Desil didn’t speak, Girgis might come over and stick his sword into Desil’s back again.
He sighed, then spoke in a hopeless voice. “What is it that you want?” He didn’t have to exaggerate much. With Girgis refusing to leave them alone, Desil’s plan was ruined, and now there was no way to put back the masonry exactly as it had been. Anyone who came close would see the broken pieces in a hole.
“Tell me where Basen and the others are now.”
“I’m sure Allephon’s already torturing Beatrix for that,” Kirnich said.
“Her suffering can end if you tell me instead.”
Torturing her? Desil strained his ears to listen. He heard a distant scream of a woman, muffled by walls. It was impossible for him to know if it was the first time she’d cried out or if others had been drowned out by the noise of his work. He had to get out and help her, or she and Kirnich would spend the rest of their lives in prison. He could as well, even after what Ionrad had told him, because Ionrad didn’t know that Desil had helped someone who was deemed a traitor.
But what could he do about Girgis? It was obvious that Girgis and the others didn’t know Desil was capable of moving stone, for Girgis cared more about taunting Kirnich than watching Desil. What did they think happened when they saw the hole in the roof of the castle? Desil couldn’t worry about that right now. There was enough space for him to get out of his cell, but he had nothing to threaten Girgis into keeping quiet, no rope to tie him up.
Everything slowed as combat became imminent. Every sound and sight, the shadows Girgis made gesturing while he spoke, gave Desil clues to his exact positioning. Aggression stormed through Desil’s body, his breathing ragged. He got his head underneath the bars. No turning back now.
He
crawled out, hardly able to keep his aggression under control. He gritted his teeth to keep from letting out a battle cry as he charged.
“What…?” Girgis was so shocked he fell backward. Desil stepped on his hand until the sword came free. Girgis yelped and squirmed away as Desil snatched the weapon.
“Stab him in the heart!” Kirnich urged.
Girgis produced a dagger and held it up as Desil came after him. With a face of fear, Girgis screamed, “Help!”
“Stab him!” Kirnich yelled louder.
Desil had the sword raised. He fought against some force within himself, losing. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill this man.
Girgis swiped the blade of his dagger across Desil’s shin. Desil’s muscles gave out as he toppled.
He found use of his leg again, but he was already on the ground with Girgis, a man twice his weight, now on top. Desil still had the sword, but it was too long to do anything with from this angle. He let go of it to grab Girgis’ dagger-wielding arm before he could stick Desil in the neck.
Girgis was surprisingly strong. His rank breath blew hot in Desil’s face. Girgis put his other meaty forearm across Desil’s throat and pushed.
Desil lost concentration as his body went into a panic. Breathless, he couldn’t do anything to keep the dagger back as it edged toward his temple. He had to regain control or he would die.
That did it. He focused bastial energy into his arms for an immense burst of strength and threw Girgis off to the side. Desil got to his feet but stumbled because of his bleeding leg. He coughed, his throat full of needles. Girgis bent down for the sword, but Desil kicked him in the face. He dropped the sword as he reeled back, swiping the dagger at nothing as Desil picked up the blade.
He motioned to strike but stopped short. Girgis lunged with the dagger. Desil swung down to chop the back of Girgis’ hand. The sword buried itself in his bone. Girgis gasped as he pulled his hand away, disconnecting his flesh from the steel.
Desil didn’t hesitate this time as he shoved the pointed tip into Girgis’ chest. His eyes bulged as he grabbed the blade, cutting open the one hand that wasn’t already split from the back. Girgis fell onto his rear, still gasping. He turned and tried to crawl toward help.
He didn’t go far before he collapsed. As Girgis gasped for breath, Desil could only watch as not a single thought or emotion registered.
Slowly, Girgis died in a pool of his own blood. He didn’t make it into the hall, but it wouldn’t be long before his blood would.
Desil suddenly became aware of Kirnich calling his name. “Desil, hurry up! Desil. Desil! Get over here and free me.”
Desil felt distant from himself as he went down to his knees in front of Kirnich, who grabbed the bars desperately. Desil softened the stone and scooped out chunks quicker than before, no longer worried about the sound.
“I know you didn’t want me to try escaping—”
“Never mind that now,” Kirnich interrupted. “It’s done. No going back. But I need to know something going forward, Desil. I saw that you couldn’t kill him at first. It was only when he showed he would kill you that you got the stomach to do it. There will be others in our way to Beatrix and more in our way as we leave. I need to know you can kill them without hesitation.”
Desil didn’t answer. He couldn’t seem to find his thoughts, as if he were watching himself create the hole. It was a surprise he could even soften the stone right now.
“Desil?” Kirnich prodded.
“I have to, so I will.”
His emotions attacked him in that instant as he remembered the feeling of the sword breaking through chest bone and piercing soft heart. His leg stung, his pants soaked with blood. It looked like a lot, but that was the thing with blood. Even a little could create quite a stain. He looked over at Girgis…and the amount of blood that had drained from his body. Desil’s blood was nothing compared to that. He would be fine.
He had to make the hole bigger for Kirnich to fit through. Somehow he worked faster than he thought possible, his heart pounding like the feet of a speeding Krepp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jimmin advanced on Beatrix as if in a hurry to end her life. She knew there was a way to block a knife attack, something about stopping the arm during the motion of the swing, but she didn’t see how it was possible. Jimmin was stronger and had a longer reach. She backed away from him as he chased her around the torture chamber. Her hands were still bound together as she dragged the metal block that had detached from the ceiling.
He appeared to enjoy the chase, grinning like a fool. She wanted to gouge that smile off his face. He swiped his knife at her head. She ducked to avoid it but ended up falling because of her weakened legs.
He laughed. “I haven’t had this much fun since I was a boy.”
She created some distance between them and flung the rope toward him. The metal end wrapped around his leg and struck him in the shin. He caught the rope as he flinched and tried to pull Beatrix toward him, but she was ready for this. With the rope finally taut, she sawed at it with her dagger. Jimmin stopped pulling after it was too late. She’d threaded enough of the rope for the last remaining fibers to break.
“Clever,” Jimmin commented as he switched his knife to his other hand to grab the rope with his right. He untangled himself and tried to whip the metal end toward Beatrix. “Or not!”
She dashed toward him as it hit her in the hip. Fear flashed on his face as he swiped with no coordination and backed away from her, dropping the rope. She felt his energy shift to scared surprise just like a normal man. He changed the knife back to his right hand when he was far enough from Beatrix. She stopped.
Jimmin laughed again, though it sounded forced this time.
If he could still feel, even slightly, he could be pained. It had been many years since Beatrix had attempted to hurt someone with the full force of her ability, for she’d never wished such agony on anyone. The only person she’d felt morally able to test it on was herself, on her twenty-second birthday. She’d only pained herself for a blink, but even after the effects were gone, the memory remained. She’d bit her lip open and cut the palms of her hands with her digging nails. She imagined that being burned alive produced a similar feeling.
Jimmin’s energy was difficult to sense. She might’ve lost it beneath her own if it wasn’t for his slight aggression and amusement. Reaching for his energy was like trying to grab the fibers of a rug; she couldn’t get a firm hold. She wouldn’t try anything until she knew it would work.
He was entertained by this physical fight for now, but if she got the upper hand with psyche, she had no doubt he would retaliate with a stronger spell than hers and probably end her life.
He came at her with the knife, feigning attacks to see what she would do. She backed away. Her legs felt cold. She didn’t have time for this. She needed some way to make him feel something so she could grab his energy. No thought came to mind.
He backed her toward a wall. She tried to circle around, but he anticipated her movement and jumped at her with a slash, his knife catching her on the arm. She swiped back, slicing him down his attacking arm. They backed away and palmed their injuries. She tried to reach out toward his energy, but the pain he felt was minimal.
He rushed her this time. She fled, but he continued to chase. She ran to the table, grabbed one of the spare knives, and flicked it behind her. It cut open his shirt, but she didn’t see blood. Nor did it stop him. He slashed at her, striking her twice, as she stuck out her blade and ran around him.
He let her go as he grabbed his side. She looked at her arm. She couldn’t see cuts, only blood. The pain was surprising, like teeth gnawing away her flesh. She started to fear more pain, a bad sign. Was her adrenaline starting to fade? She felt slower as well. This was probably because of the blood she’d lost. She’d noticed trails of it around the chamber, but blood was beginning to drip around Jimmin as well. Some stained his shirt just above his pants as more trailed down his arms.
She didn’t remember cutting him twice, but both arms were smeared red.
This had to end soon or she would bleed out.
Beatrix noticed movement by the door behind Jimmin, specifically at the bottom where it met the floor. A hand fit through a new opening and pulled away some of the stone. It came back for more and more.
Desil! She couldn’t let Jimmin see, but she couldn’t defend herself much longer. She tried to keep away from him, but he kept edging her toward the corner of the chamber until eventually she was trapped.
She needed access to his bastial energy now or he would kill her here. An idea finally came as he closed in cautiously, making sure to cut off every avenue of escape.
Jimmin had taken many lovers over the years but never a wife. Hopefully, he still was interested in the female body, even after dulling his ability to feel. If not, this should still shock him enough.
She pulled up her shirt to expose her bare breasts.
His energy changed into the shape of shock as his eyes went wide. Attraction mixed in, but both it and the shock were quickly fading as she reached out with her mind to finally get a firm hold of his energy. She pained him with as much force as she could muster.
He let out a scream sweet to her ears as he fell to his knees. She dropped her shirt and came at him with her knife, but he reached out to make a grabbing motion in front of her. Pain struck her like a bolt of lightning, every muscle giving out.
She’d trained in how to resist. She just needed something stronger than this agony.
He killed my father. He’s going to get away with it. He has to die now!
The pain started to recede behind thoughts of her father. She staggered to her feet but had to find the dagger she didn’t remember dropping. It was just behind her.
Jimmin was back on his feet by the time she had the weapon in hand. They both paused to catch their breath. She still had a good hold on his energy, still shaped it to make him feel pain, but he’d prevailed over it with a feeling of determination, like she had. Neither of them could hurt each other with psyche at this point, but at least she’d gotten out of the corner of the room and bought herself more time.
