No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  Because that’s where it wants to go.

  Is this some sort of revenge? This is how his victims must feel, when he grabs hold of their soul and twists it to his will, sometimes pulling it right out of them. He doesn’t feel remorse, Karak doesn’t feel anything. But the little part of Calen that’s still inside screams repentance. To whom? The Spirits, a god, whomever will listen. But Karak knows what Calen doesn’t.

  No one’s listening. Not to him.

  Calen would have cared about his pride. He would have held back, not bending to this monster. Even if the pain got so bad, he would not bow his head, nor utter pleas. Or beg. Calen was raised to be strong. To be good. Never give in to evil. His parents never taught him to endure torture, but he’d applied it to every aspect of his life for so long.

  But Karak has no such pride.

  “Stop. Stop!” he begs, pleads. “Revera! Please. I’ll do anything!” He contorts, back hunching in mid-air, his bones breaking, the snaps sickening. But what’s more is his begging, his pleading. She should be the one on her knees. Screaming for mercy. Anger bubbles in him, but he can’t get to her. He can’t put his hands around her neck and strangle her. He’s paralyzed in the air, and she’s bending him to her own will.

  “Beg some more,” Revera taunts. “I do enjoy it.”

  “You b—”

  “Language, Lieutenant.” She clenches her fist, and his heart beats faster, too fast, he can’t even catch a breath.

  Karak chokes, his throat tightening. He looks at Revera. Please. Make it stop. But he isn’t begging her. He’s begging the only one who can stop it. Crozacar, please! I’ll do anything. Just make it stop. His lungs convulse. “Make it stop!” he yells out, not caring that the Knights are watching, his screaming had woken them all. “Revera,” he spits through gritted teeth. “I’ll kill you.”

  “That’s not how you beg, Karak. You know, girls lie. Flattery always works.” She throws him against the wall, releasing her grip, but a new pain shoots through him as his broken bones bruise against the hard surface of the tower. “I must admit, I’m enjoying this. It’s like the circle of life.”

  She swipes her hand down, and his arm twists. “I came to you broken.” Her magic tears his flesh. “Scared.” She clenches her fist, and he lets out a scream as his heart beats with fire. “Weak and alone.”

  She stands over him now. Kneeling down, she looks him in the eye, and he sees tears in her eyes. “You let me in. But you destroyed me in doing so.”

  “I saved you.”

  “You made me kill all those people!” she yells at him, her tears flowing. “I would have been fine who I was, with my measly magic and nothing to live for. I would have found something, maybe even someone. But now I’m the monster you made.”

  “I never made you do anything. I didn’t create the demon you are. You willingly accepted those souls.”

  “I thought you would kill me if I didn’t.”

  “You wanted revenge. Don’t blame me for your actions,” he warns.

  Her eyes narrow. “I would have survived. If it weren’t for you and your need to finish what your master started, I would have been free to be someone more than what my parents thought me to be. I devoured one hundred souls because you told me it would make my magic grow fast and more powerful than any sorcerer in history. And it did. I did. And yes, it felt good to be powerful. It felt good to destroy Radian and kill my parents.”

  Revera continues to speak, absentmindedly, “I would never have known about Awyn. About anyone in this war. If I hadn’t grown my magic so fast, I wouldn’t have had those dreams.”

  He knows what she speaks of. After she absorbed the souls and their power, it surged through her. She fell asleep, but her body spasmed for as long as she was unconscious, light and darkness combined, entwining her. It lasted for five days. When she awoke, she knew she had to master her magic. There was going to be a war.

  Revera looks at him. “I should thank you, though. Without you, I would never have known what my purpose was.”

  Something in her hand shines, white and brilliant.

  His eyes widen.

  A soul.

  “No,” he can barely hear his own voice, but the reality of what’s about to happen reverberates through his body. “No. You said—”

  “I don’t care that I found purpose, Karak.” Her tears stream down her face, her eyes glistening and bright with her darkness. She’s stripped. All the magic, all the darkness. The Revera before him is raw, her pain and sorrow true and pure. She’s a scared child again, the one who he caught stealing his food. Her innocence lost too soon. Experience had too swiftly approached.

  Her entire body shakes. “I didn’t have to be a villain.” She grips his face. “But you made me one.” She hits his chest, palm flat against him, the light burning his skin with shining white vibrancy. He’s enveloped by it, devoured until he’s no longer alone.

  The light turns to darkness. Pure darkness.

  And he knows where he is.

  “Hello?” He looks around. It’s not really darkness, but more blackness. He can see himself clearly, but everything else is pitch-black. “Hello?” His voice is obnoxiously loud, but he feels like he’s whispering. “Someone answer me!”

  “Don’t scream, it’s not your style.”

  Karak freezes. He never knew how vulnerable he was until this moment. He always thought Calen was his weakness, but that’s not right. He is. The fact that Karak doesn’t care about anything. He doesn’t care about anyone, about his pride. The only thing he does care about is himself, and that can be more dangerous than opening his heart to others.

  “Don’t be scared. You’re my lieutenant.”

  The mocking voice makes Karak’s stomach churn. Slowly, he turns toward his master. The black eyes of Crozacar strike him harder than Revera did. This is his reality now, sharing his body with Crozacar. Inhabiting this place until he dies with the Dark Lord himself.

  Crozacar smiles, the expression never suiting his face. “Welcome to the Darkness! Your new hell.”

  “Why am I here? I didn’t die.”

  “No, but I’ve been inhabiting the Darkness ever since that damned Idies killed me.”

  “Your soul survived. It’s the Isle of the Dead.”

  “The Darkness works in mysterious ways. Zyadar pulled a few strings, and now it’s your chance to live darkly ever after in this torturous prison.”

  “It’s my body. You can’t just take over it.”

  Crozacar sighs. “Oh, I know. That was harder to work out. Your consciousness will be split in half. Part of you in the Darkness, and a tiny sliver of you in your body, so it remains habitable for me.” He smiles, once again a revolting gesture. “The sofa’s soft.”

  “Crozacar!” Karak lunges at him, but the man disappears, along with his way out. Alone, Karak looks around. So, this is the Darkness? He takes a breath. It’s not that bad.

  “You’ve only been here three minutes.”

  He turns at the voice, and stares in awe at who stares back. Blue eyes, black hair. The fair skin that just got paler as he sunk deeper into darkness. The tall figure carries scars, but if this wasn’t a spiritual realm, then they’d be invisible. His stance is casual but tense. Always tense, always casual.

  Karak swallows. “Calen? But…you’re me.”

  “I’m a different part of you. You find out things in this place.” His eyes flash with pain. “Terrible things.”

  “We can’t stay here, Calen.”

  Anger flashes across his face. “What do you propose we do?”

  Karak goes to speak but then he hears a familiar voice.

  “Crozacar?” Revera’s voice is rasped from crying, more than usual.

  “Where…where am I?” It’s his voice, but Crozacar’s speaking. Karak looks everywhere, wondering what’s going on. He hears everything. But he can’t see. He’s locked inside himself.

  And he knows.

  “You’re in Marduth,” Revera says. “Yo
u’re back.”

  “I’m…I’m back?” Crozacar says with Karak’s lips.

  “You have business to finish here.”

  Karak can feel Crozacar smile. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Aradon glares at Idies. Perched against the wall, the king does nothing but eat an apple, carving it with his knife. He shouldn’t have a knife. His eyes narrow, not listening to the others as they argue with the two Trads and the Eronian. He should be dead.

  When he was a little boy, Aradon used to dream of meeting Idies. Disturbingly, he was always dead, meeting the famous king in the afterlife. But it was always an amazing experience. They’d talk, Idies would say how proud of him he was. As much as Aradon idolized his father, Idies was his hero.

  Idies throws the core on the ground, tossing his knife into the stone wall just as Aradon had done in that cave with Revera. The others all look at him in fear, but Idies just smiles.

  This is no hero.

  Adriel clears her throat. “Anyway.” She looks at Breel. “Why was Revera gone for so long?”

  “She was on the Isle of the Dead.”

  “Why?” Neodyn asks, despair in his voice.

  “Because she was raising twenty-five thousand souls.”

  The room stills.

  “She’s building an army,” Hagard mutters, sober at the worst time. “An army we can’t destroy.”

  “Any man can be killed,” Eldowyn says, arms stiffly folded over his chest.

  “Dey’re dead, Eldowyn! Dey aren’t going to bleed, and what doesn’t bleed doesn’t die.”

  “How do you even know if this is true?” Brega questions Breel.

  “Because when I was slaughtering the Tanea for them to be resurrected as soldiers, I saw her on a boat to the Isle. Put those pieces together and tell me what you see.”

  Aradon’s body vibrates in anger. Blind with rage, he lunges at Breel, shoving him hard against the wall. “What did you just say?”

  “She was on a boat—”

  “Before that!”

  Breel’s eyes are wide in fear. “I killed the Tanea. Me and the other Knights.”

  “Revera’s resurrected the Knights?” Idies asks, something unusual in his voice. Memory.

  Aradon looks back at him but keeps a firm grasp on Breel. “What are you talking about?”

  “She hasn’t resurrected them,” Breel says. “She’s remade them.”

  Idies steps toward them. “And you’re one of them?”

  Breel nods. “Me and three others, if you count the Last Lieutenant.”

  Idies twitches. “I’d most certainly count that demon.” Pure hatred is in his voice, and Aradon realizes Idies has more reason to hate Karak than any of them.

  “Do we trust him or not?” Sauriel asks. “If she raised the dead on the Isle, I assume she did the same with the Tanea.”

  “Revera’s killed nearly the entire Radian elf population out of jealousy and revenge. She would kill the Tanea for a lot less,” Eldowyn states.

  “Unless she did raise them?” Adriel offers. “You could be fighting friends, Aradon. Are you willing to do that?”

  “I’ve come across the undead.” He glances at Idies but thinks of Harden’s face as he killed him a second time. “They can die.” He shakes his head. “They won’t be my friends anymore.” He shrugs. “Besides, most of them still distrust me.”

  “We all distrust you, Aradon,” Eldowyn says, shocking Aradon but not surprising him. He knew that already, it just feels different when it comes out of his friend’s mouth. “But we still fight with you.”

  “But we don’t fight with him,” Adriel says, gesturing to Breel. “He could go back to Revera and reveal our plans.”’

  “Then don’t reveal your plans to me,” Breel says. “I go back, try to convince someone to join me in fighting against Revera. And in the midst of battle, I turn my sword onto the Sanarx, blind to your plans.”

  Brega nods. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “How can you even be considering this?” Adriel questions. “He’s fighting for Revera. For all we know, these could be her words.”

  “They aren’t.”

  “And we’re supposed to believe you?” Adriel glares at the Trad.

  “Breel was an honorable soldier until he abandoned us,” Sufek says spitefully.

  “That’s not comforting.”

  “Adriel, we should give him a chance,” Eldowyn says. “This could be a turning point for us. Revera will have more soldiers, and the Sanarx are two men in one. We need every advantage.”

  “There are ways to make sure he’s telling the truth.”

  “No, Idies,” Brega warns. “We aren’t doing that.”

  “Doing what?” Hagard asks.

  “Torturing him,” she says.

  He looks at her. “No I was talking about you using your—”

  The door swings open, interrupting Idies.

  “Sorry, no.” Idies shakes his head. “I was confused. Torturing. Yeah. Brilliant. And fun.” He stands, clasping his hands together. “When are we going to do this?”

  “We aren’t torturing him,” Eldowyn defuses the situation. “We trust him but keep our eyes and ears open. We won’t be blind, we’ll be wary. We’ll let him go, save who he needs to save, and we’ll see him on the battlefield.” He says this to all of them, as if convincing himself they won’t abandon Breel when the battle starts.

  No one argues. There’s nothing to argue. They either trust him or they don’t. But either way, Breel can still abandon them. Or he can follow through. They might as well choose the option that has the possibility of helping them.

  “Then we agree?” Brega asks the room.

  “We agree. Breel has our trust for now.” Neodyn exhales, warning in his eyes. “We let him go, but we kill him if he betrays us.”

  Brega shakes her head. “Neodyn, if he betrays us, we’re dead before we set foot on that battlefield.”

  The meeting disassembled, Aradon rushes to Idies before he gets to his room. Saying nothing, he grabs the king and pushes him against the hallway wall.

  “What are you trying to pull? Because last time I checked, I tried to kill Raea. Why would she resurrect you to help me?”

  Idies’ gaze is dead, but he smiles. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve been dead for thousands of years.”

  “You can’t be him.” Aradon shakes his head, backing away. “You can’t be. Idies Elvian was a good man and a great king. You’re neither.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You remind me of Karak.”

  This time it’s Idies who slams Aradon against the wall. “Shut your mouth. I’m nothing like that destroyer. Maybe I’m not what you expected, but before the war I was a lot like the man you see before you now. I was violent. But I became someone a lot greater.” He shakes his head. “Then I died. This war is bad, yes. But you only have a small inkling of what I’ve been through. It sounds like Revera is powerful, maybe more so than Crozacar was. But being dead, you hear things. Crozacar may have been normal once, but he was never a good man.

  “I fought a bred monster and I won. But I got killed. I never got to raise my children. I never got to say goodbye to my love. But honestly, that’s not what broke me. It was what happened to my family. My brothers killed each other. We were torn apart, and we had to watch our world burn by ourselves.” His face is angry, but his eyes still hold nothing.

  “So don’t compare me to the Last Lieutenant.” He cocks his head. “You don’t deserve my help.” Idies’ eyes narrow. “Why should I die for you? You’re worse than I ever was. You’re worse than Alendar was.”

  Aradon swallows. He remembers the stories of Alendar, the first king of Rohidia. He was the one who killed his own brother, the one who started the Elvian family’s bloodshed. But Idies is right. Aradon’s worse.

  He just never had a brother to kill.

  His mind wanders to Saine. He let him live. And as crazy as it sounds, he’s the closest thing he has to a brot
her. He’s not his friend, but they are related. Besged blood flows through their veins. They’re brothers.

  And they hate each other.

  He thinks of Kepp and Eldowyn. What brothers don’t hate each other?

  Aradon wants to punch the living daylights out of Idies. But he just walks down the dimly lit hall, needing time to think and most of all, sleep.

  When she hears Aradon walk away, Brega grabs Idies and pulls him into her room. Locking the door behind her, she glares at him.

  “How do you know I have magic?”

  “I can sense it.”

  “How?”

  “I’m half-elf. I have a few abilities.”

  “Elves can’t sense magic.”

  “Some can.”

  Brega studies him. He has human ears—some half-elves look more human than others. He’s tall, but he’s a Besged. A Besged and a half-elf. Impressive.

  “If you tell anyone I have magic, I will kill you, got it?”

  “So, the slamming doors was you?” He gives an impressed lip shrug.

  “I’m only thankful you didn’t keep talking.”

  “I’m not a big talker.”

  Brega crosses her arms. “So. You’re the great King Idies.”

  “The one and only.” He gives a little bow.

  “I don’t believe it. The tales of your heroism and bravery.” She huffs. “And to think, the world thought if they ever saw you again that you’d save them. But here you are. Choking a guard.”

  “He stared at me.”

  “We’ve done nothing but stare at you, you’re Idies.”

  “I’ve been dead for a long time. I needed to blow off some steam.”

  “Have you?”

  “I may need to punch a few more people.”

  Brega rolls her eyes. “Stay away from my men. You know what I can do, so heed my warning.”

  Idies shoves his hands in his pockets. “What can you do? I sensed magic but it’s weak. You’re fairly new at this, aren’t you?”