by Aimee Moore
I paused for a moment, unsure of how to handle the fresh terror washing into me. “Here is the lake which houses the leyline, the target of our assault. I have already advised Gurlok on the precautions we are to take when dealing with the humans of this capital. If need be, I can eliminate everything as far as the eye can see, but I’d rather not reso—"
The Warlord used the stinking toe of his boot to nudge my chin up to him, showing his pointed teeth. Fear raced through my spine at that smile.
“You will demonstrate your power. On the traitor.”
I glanced at Dal, and my heart tore in two. No, anything but that. I would sooner turn it on myself than on Dal.
“He is no traitor,” I said, removing my chin from the Warlord's boot.
He stood with a swiftness that I would have missed if I blinked, and swept his ferocious fist across my jaw, sending me sprawling backward into the dirt. The moment seemed to play before my stunned gaze in slow motion, and then I was on my hands and knees before the Warlord of the Kraw, face throbbing white hot with pain.
I prayed to all the stars above that the Warlord did not see me shaking. Dust coated my face and hands as blood dribbled from my lip in a thin string, picking up more dirt while my war braids clinked around my face. I listened for Dal, for clues to his emotions or what I needed to do next. But all I heard was quick breathing, and whether it was from the Warlord or the man I loved, I couldn’t tell.
I was alone.
I stood on shaking legs and turned to face the Warlord: the embodiment of fear and death itself, watching me with a loathsome scowl. I tried to steady my harsh breathing as I thrust my chin up and scowled right back. I ran my palm over the blood dripping from my lip, and casting a hateful scowl at the Warlord, I smeared it over my face to mix with the mud I had painted there.
The Warlord watched me with an expectant grin. When I was done, I licked my own blood from my hand, lowering it slowly, shooting every ounce of defiance I had at Death itself.
The Warlord threw his head back and laughed, and as he did so I cast a quick glance at Dal. His jaw was flexed, the muscles in his body tense as his eyes burned into me. I returned my gaze back up at the Warlord. And when he was done laughing at me, he leaned forward.
“Why do you say that this traitor is not so?”
I tried to calm my breathing before answering, but eventually I had to ignore the thick rise and fall of my chest and answer. “To call him a traitor is hypocrisy at its finest.”
Death gave me its chilling smile again. “Tell me what you think you know of my people, worm.”
I didn't know who I did this for anymore. “Kraw are efficient and ruthless. Spending valuable resources slaughtering humans who had no connection to your reason for being here was incompetent. Dal brought you logic in his suggestion that Kraw focus their efforts on the Gifted—"
“You mean you,” the Warlord said.
I faltered in my logic, closing my mouth with a snap. I stared into death's eyes before forging ahead. “Yes, me. And instead of having his wisdom heeded, he was imprisoned and branded a traitor. I do not see traitorous actions in logic that would benefit the cause.”
“Kraw pillaged your pathetic hovel and brought me my new Eyes and Ears. They brought me resources and information. This is the Kraw way, human. Kraw cannot suffer distractions. Deviations from the goal are traitorous by default. You are in danger of deviating from the goal,” the Warlord said with a low growl.
“I serve your goal,” I whispered in a dangerous voice. “If you doubt my motives then I will take my guard and leave this stinking mess of Kraw army to you and you alone.”
The Warlord leaned back and looked at me, considering me with a slight grin playing at his black lips.
“Prove your loyalty and demonstrate your power on the traitor.”
My heart skipped a beat again, and I glanced at Dal, whose breathing was harsher than normal.
“Demonstrate your power on the traitor or I will have him fed to the hounds and you will watch.”
I swallowed, flicking my gaze ahead to Dal, heart thundering in my ribs as I forced my face to remain passive. Now I knew why Patroma feared the Warlord.
Dal lumbered toward me, head held high, and stood straight before me, not a single emotion on his face. He was mine to do what I wished with. But the idea of causing harm to his beautiful skin was like slicing a piece of myself off.
The Warlord was watching. Could we just run? Could I blast the Warlord off his feet now, in this moment, and be free of him? The only thing I knew for sure was that Dal stood here before me, offering himself up to the Warlord’s sick entertainment, because he knew something I didn’t.
I raised both hands and lit fire in them, my never taking my eyes off of Dal’s. My flame, feathering high above my palms, reflected in his trusting eyes. By the gods, I was going to harm him, and he looked at me as if I held his heart in my hands instead of his destruction. I stepped closer.
“Remove your shirt, traitor, so that I can see your skin burn,” the Warlord said. The excitement in the drowning depth of his voice flipped my stomach into queasiness.
Dal did as he was told, eyes locked on mine as he undid the leather straps at the sides and removed his shirt. I clenched my jaw as his warm scent wafted up to me, the beauty of his skin like a priceless painting.
I tried to keep my face as placid a mask as he did, not to portray anything in my gaze. But my resolve was slipping, emotion rising to the surface of my false calm. A tremor traveled up my wrist. I was losing my nerve. I had to act.
I slammed my palms into Dal's right pectoral before I lost all nerve, and his eyes went wide with a pained grunt as shock radiated through his strong frame. The smell of cooked flesh fouled the air, and Dal's breathing increased to running pace as I burned him. His eyes never left mine, and I glared up at him as I demonstrated my power, devastating the man I loved. A tortured groan drew out low in Dal's throat, and every muscle on his body was flexed so hard that the veins stuck out to a painful degree.
Dal took it. He sat there and bore it as I burned through the tattoo running up his right side.
“Enough,” the Warlord said, bored.
I removed my hot hands, stepping away from Dal, tearing my eyes from his before I could betray us with a look. Dal's breathing was harsh and ragged next to me.
“Traitor, you have done well for the Kraw. Now I will ask one final service to absolve your name.” The Warlord smiled that wicked grin, sending fear crawling into my belly.
My breathing became more rapid as my heart hammered in my throat. Please, just let it end. Let me and Dal go so that I could spend the rest of my life apologizing for the wound I had inflicted on him. I regretted being here, in Patroma's leather, wearing war braids and blood. I wasn't strong enough to bear this torture.
“What does the Warlord wish of me,” Dal said in placid tones, despite his ragged breathing. My chest clenched with regret.
The Warlord showed those pointed teeth, a nasty sneer lighting his black eyes, and he looked at me as he spoke. “The traitor will watch me mate my new Eyes and Ears to see if she is as breakable as she appears.”
By the gods, he knew. He knew! My breathing increased as horror washed through me.
“I do not wish to be absolved,” Dal said.
The Warlord smiled his evil grin. “You will watch. And if you utter a single sound while I am taking her, I will snap her neck and cast her aside, then strip the skin from your bones and let the pigs feast on you. I will find a stronger Eyes and Ears to serve me.”
Now, it was my turn to smile. “You cannot force me to your bed any more than any of the other Kraw in this camp who have tried. I am not a bed slave, I am the Eyes and the Ears, and you will never lay a hand on me.”
The Warlord laughed to himself, then called in two more Kraw. They approached from outside the door, curling their noses at the smell of cooked flesh.
“Take the traitor and bind him in the prison. Every night, if the
human does not come to my bed, take one strip of flesh from his bones.”
I gasped, turning to watch the other two Kraw grab Dal by the arms and lead him out. He didn’t look at me or utter a sound. He left with them, without a fight. My word was lesser to the Warlord's, and I was powerless.
Rage filled me. I cast a look of loathing at the Warlord, and death smiled down at me, mocking. “It was a mistake to come here,” I said.
The Warlord laughed as I stormed out of the tent, watching where they took Dal. Maggot approached me.
“Seraphine, the Warlord will take your quarters.”
Of course. “Find new quarters fit for the Eyes and Ears.”
Maggot gave a nod and lumbered off to make my bidding known. I hoped that my new quarters would be near the prison. And then I hoped they were as far away as possible, because I dreaded to hear the sounds pulled from Dal when flesh was torn from his bones.
I couldn’t let that happen. I strode after Dal, chin raised, conscious of whispers and yells and stares and scowls. I ignored all of it, telling myself I was higher than them, and strode into the tent that made the prison.
Dal was being tied against a pole, arms over his head. One of the other Kraw began to take his weapon, eyes glittering with greed.
“You will leave him his weapon,” I said.
“A traitor does not need a weapon; he has no use for it.”
I grabbed the Kraw by the throat, sending just enough fire to my hand to make his eyes go wide. “And you do not need your head to be of use to me, our pigs will feast on anything with blood.”
He glared at me for only a moment before giving a curt nod.
I shoved him away, and he steered clear of Dal's sword from then on. I watched them do their work, and once the two Kraw had finished, they stood at Dal's sides, watching, guarding.
I glanced between the two Kraw, scowling, and then met Dal's eyes for the first time since I had burned him. Pain scorched the sweet hazel I had come to know, and his handsome face was defeated into sadness. It tore at my heart to see him like so. To know what was to become of us. Knowing that the two Kraw were watching me, I couldn’t surrender to my sadness.
“You must kill me, Sera,” Dal said in my language.
I followed his cue and spoke only in my tongue. “You’re overreacting. We’ll find a way out of this that doesn’t involve bloodshed.”
“The Warlord will kill you, and I cannot bear to imagine how. You must kill me and free yourself from him. Trade my life for yours.”
I let a harsh sigh out of my nose, wishing I could break down and sob. I bit my tongue so hard that I tasted blood. It fueled me. I let my eyes rake over the burn I had given Dal. A large print of my hand was on Dal's pectoral, blackened and oozing blood and clear fluid. Every breath had to be agony.
“These games of his are madness,” I whispered in a flat tone.
“He breaks the mind into obedience. As long as I live, he has power over you. Remove his power.”
I let off a long breath as I tried to find whatever logical solution Dal may have missed. Escape wasn't an option. Even if I trapped the two Kraw here and freed Dal, we were surrounded by thousands of Kraw who knew that the traitor marched to the prison for a reason. I needed this army to save my world, not turn against me so that I had no choice but to annihilate them.
As I looked over Dal, I couldn't bear the thought of flesh being stripped from him. The torture would be unbearable, even for a warrior such as mine. I would cave when I heard his screams. I would beg the Warlord to take me so that Dal did not suffer. And if I didn’t, if my cowardice won out, Dal would die of his wounds. Not even Kraw could regrow skin that fast, as evidenced by the oozing burn on his chest.
I met his eyes again.
“Do not succumb to sorrow, Sera, you did what you had to do. And you did it well.”
My hands shook as I realized that Dal would not be telling me to end him if there was any other way. He’d already worked through it all, and here we were.
There was no point in putting Dal through the torture when I already knew I would give in.
Dal read my open book, as always. “Do not do it.” His voice was stern, a growl.
I let out a harsh breath and nothing more. I was terrified. I was in despair. I was in love to a fault.
“Sera, listen to me,” Dal snarled, rattling his chains. The other two Kraw exchanged glances.
“Do not do it,” Dal commanded.
I stepped away, chin raised. “Warriors do what they must, Dal.”
“Not this. Please, not this.”
“I can kill him.”
“No. The Warlord has powers you do not, and you will die for trying. Please, Sera, do not do this. I will beg if I must.”
My heart tore in two. I did the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I turned my back on the man I loved and left the prison tent. A roar of anguish shook the camp, but I kept walking, head held high, dizziness at what I was about to do threatening to bring me to the mud.
I stormed into the large tent, past the pyre, past a shocked Maggot, and straight up to the base of the throne, where the Warlord lounged with a supreme grin on his black face.
“We have a deal to make,” I said in a commanding tone.
“You have given in already, and you haven't even heard the flesh stripped from his bones. Your weakness is pathetic.”
“You know that he's important to me and that I'll cave before he dies, so let's skip the games. I'll give you what you want, on three conditions.”
“You'll give me what I want on my conditions, and nothing more.”
“I can burn down this camp and everyone in it.”
“Then no one fights your war and this world dies,” the Warlord said with boredom.
“I would let a thousand worlds die for him, you knew that the moment you made your wretched demand.”
The Warlord appeared to contemplate me for a moment, then his black lips peeled back to reveal the pointed teeth in a twisted smile. “You want the army and the traitor. Entertain me with your demands, my Eyes and Ears.”
“The deal will transpire in my quarters, and you will leave me with Dal afterward so that he may tend my wounds.”
“Your vanity is of no importance to me. Let the healers drag your broken body through the mud.”
“I am the Eyes and Ears, I am the second in command, you will afford me the respect due to your second in command or this camp will run rivers of blood.” My voice was shaking and dangerous, and this time I was far enough away from him not to be at risk of assault.
The Warlord waved a careless hand. “What is your second plea.”
“You will name Dal your third in command and clear his name.”
The Warlord threw his head back and barked a bottomless, hopeless laugh. “You are a fool, Seraphine, if you think I will name that blighted boil as my third. I am already burdened with a frail fish bone for a second.”
“Come and find out how frail I really am,” I said, fingers grasping my sword.
The Warlord only looked amused. “And your final plea.”
“You will not break me.”
“Stupid human, that was the goal.”
“Stupid Kraw, I am not about to let you snuff my existence for your fleeting pleasure.”
The Warlord rose with a snarl, but then the tension passed, and he sat back down with slow, frightening grace, never taking those cold black eyes off of me. I scowled back.
“I do not accept your terms. Grik, Klor,” the Warlord called to the two Kraw behind me. “Take her to my chambers, I grow bored.”
Heavy footfalls sounded behind me, and I whirled, drawing my sword, lighting fire down the length of it. With a vicious slash of my weapon, my fire extended to be a blade of pure flame, at least twice as long as any Kraw sword, and sliced the two Kraw cleanly in two across the middles.
In the breath of a moment, I had done the thing I said I could never do. I killed. With two loud thumps, the pieces of Kra
w hit the ground. I watched the Kraw's twitching halves ooze out on the dirt, the cauterized sides of the clean slice breaking under the weight of their undulating, bleeding organs.
I dared not let a shaking breath escape, dared not let my conscience dwell on the horrific act I had just committed. I turned my blade of flame to the Warlord, aiming it at him. For a fraction of a second, his eyes were surprised, but he quickly replaced that with annoyance.
I was breathing hard, trying to steady my flaming blade and my nausea when a thought hit me. My breathing increased as I played it out in my mind. Dal had said I couldn’t. What if I could?
The Warlord laughed. “You think to kill me.”
“Who would stop me?” I said on a dangerous breath.
“Pitiful insect. Come, if you dare. Come and claim the Warlord.” The mockery in his booming voice and deadly eyes made me hesitate.
“Dragonfly,” I breathed.
We stared each other down like that, the Warlord and his Eyes and Ears, locked in a battle of wills.
Finally, the deep black well of that horrible voice spoke to me with amusement. “Your conditions will be met. And I will watch your traitor suffer as I do things to your frail flesh that make you question your existence.”
I recalled Patroma speaking of the Warlord's desires being her pain. If he brought a strong woman like Patroma pain and fear, then only horror awaited me when I next took off my clothes.
“So be it,” I said, dizzy with fear. I extinguished my flame, sheathed my sword, and cast one last look of loathing at the Warlord before I exited the tent to find my quarters. To lie with death.
Dal was brought into my spacious quarters and his chains were hammered into place with a deep spike on the far side of my tent. He looked like a man who was about to die. I didn't think about what lay before me. We would both live this day, that was what mattered.
Dal told me to flee in a broken rumble, and I told him to be quiet. The Warlord entered, and the three of us were alone. The imposing man in blood red leathers gave a satisfied smile to Dal before he approached me and tore my clothing away in a cold flash of air.
