General Rouk and Captain Ely were waiting there for him. They jumped to their feet when he entered and saluted him. He ignored them and went to his desk and sat down. The two men exchanged glances. Then Rouk screwed up his courage enough to ask, “We did as you ordered us, sire, tortured them enough to frighten them, but not enough to disable them.”
Lowellin glanced up at him but did not reply. His face was expressionless.
Rouk took this as a good sign. “If I may, sire, can I assume all went well? I saw you leave with the prisoners, and I heard about the sinkhole.”
“It went as expected,” Lowellin replied. “Your methods went a long way toward convincing them.” His cold eyes flicked to Ely. “Though you came dangerously close to going too far. I thought I was explicit in explaining that their torture not leave any of them maimed. Hurting one of them too much, or worse yet, killing one, would have cost me any chance I had of winning Fen to my side.”
Ely ducked his head. “My apologies, sire. I got a bit carried away.”
“Fortunately for you, you did not go too far. Or you would not be here to have this conversation. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sire,” Ely said meekly.
Chapter 24
Sergeant Tempus was stuck guarding the slaves who were building the ships. He hated this duty, hated it even more than he’d hated those crazy nights when it seemed half the city was on fire, and the other half was rioting. He cursed Lieutenant Gril under his breath for sticking him with this duty. Ever since Tempus won his entire pay off him in cards, the lieutenant never missed a chance to make Tempus’ life miserable.
The reason Samkaran soldiers had to guard the slaves was because most of the Ankharans who’d been doing the job were dead. A bunch of them were killed the night Fen and the Fist went on their rampage, and most of the rest were killed a few nights ago when someone attacked the ships and tried to burn them.
Tempus was glad the Ankharans were dead. He hated the filthy foreigners. He wished the ships had burned. King Lowellin had said that Samkara’s army would be putting out to sea on them as soon as the ships were finished, sailing west to conquer kingdoms he’d never known existed. Tempus had never been in a boat of any kind. He’d never so much as put his feet in the sea. The idea of getting onto a ship and sailing so far out that he couldn’t even see land filled him with dread.
“Move along there. Keep working,” he said to one of the slaves, who’d stopped and was leaning against the side of the ship, panting. She was a woman in her early twenties, just about the same age as Tempus’ daughter would have been if she hadn’t been killed when the Maradi sacked Samkara. When she didn’t move right away, he shook his whip at her.
He carried the whip because the Ankharans in charge of this operation insisted on it, said the slaves would do nothing without the steady application of one. But he didn’t like the thing, and he hadn’t used it a single time so far. This wasn’t out of love for the Maradi. The bastards had killed his wife the same night they killed his daughter, and he hated them almost as much as he hated the Ankharans. It was more that the whole idea of slavery struck him as wrong. Killing a man who’d wronged you was one thing. Enslaving him was another thing entirely. And enslaving women who’d surely never wielded a weapon against a Samkaran in their lives, well, that was wrong times two.
“C’mon, lass,” he said, looking over his shoulder. One of the few remaining Ankharan overseers was approaching. He hadn’t noticed the young woman yet, but he would soon enough. “Get a move on. There’s one of them ugly bastards coming this way. You know what that means.”
With a moan she pushed herself away from the side of the ship and lifted the heavy bucket filled with pitch once again. She was stumbling away when the overseer arrived.
“Speed it up!” he snapped, laying his whip across her shoulders and causing her to cry out.
Tempus glared at the man’s back, his jaws aching from the suppressed desire to whip out his sword and cut the man in two. The man was a brute, no getting around it. The kind who didn’t deserve to be alive.
But he knew what the consequences of that would be. The officers had made it very clear that finishing the ships was the invaders’ highest priority. Any who jeopardized that would pay dearly.
He wished Fen were still alive. Fen would tear these buggers down and show them what was what. But he wasn’t. And without Fen and his abilities—Tempus had been there the day of the execution, and he’d seen some of that ability with his own eyes—what chance did the rest of them have? His squad mates had tried to carry on his work when they set fire to the ships and look where that had gotten them. Down in the dungeon being tortured, the poor bastards. For their sake he hoped they were already dead. Can’t hurt a man anymore, once he’s dead.
A commotion behind him made Tempus turn. What he saw caused him to swear under his breath and take a step back. Two of the Ichthalids were approaching. He recognized first the one with only one eye, a great, hulking brute he was. That was Thresh. That made the other one Gnath. They were huge. He reckoned either one of them could about snap him in two with their bare hands. Which they wouldn’t need to use anyway, on account of the fearsome magic they had. He’d seen that magic at work before. He didn’t want to see it again and surely not up close.
They strode by Tempus without deigning to so much as glance at him, which was just fine with him. The last thing he wanted was to be noticed by them.
“Gather the slaves,” Thresh said to the overseer, who was bowing repeatedly and looked about to wet himself. “They are to drop what they are doing and come at once.” The overseer ran off without a word and began shouting orders.
Tempus moved to obey, rounding up the slaves who were making their way to and from the tar pots, carrying buckets of pitch. “Leave them there,” he ordered. “Hurry now.”
There were five of them, all women in their twenties and thirties. As he shepherded them to where the two Ichthalids stood waiting, he felt a strong sense of unease. Something unpleasant was about to happen. Not that most of the last month hadn’t been unpleasant, but he had a feeling that something especially unpleasant was coming. He felt a strong desire to throw his weapons down and run.
But that would be mighty foolish. A dozen or more soldiers had tried to desert since the Ichthalids arrived. Their bodies were hanging on the castle walls, a grim reminder to others who had the same thoughts.
Soon the slaves were gathered in a loose group beside the one of the ships. There were about a hundred of them. This wasn’t all of the slaves. There were others in the big warehouse, those who worked the night shift. Their numbers had been dwindling fast. Some dropped dead on the job. Others had been taken away by the sorcerers and never seen again. Everyone knew what happened to them, but no one liked to talk about it.
Thresh looked at the overseers and soldiers. “If you let them run, you will take their place.”
Tempus’ sense of unease turned into something very close to panic. It had the same effect on the slaves, who shrank back against the hull of the ship, fighting each other to get as far away from the Ichthalids as possible.
At an order from the head overseer, Tempus and the rest of the soldiers drew their weapons and closed in, forming a solid wall around the slaves. Tempus’ stomach flipped. He really, really wished he wasn’t on duty today.
The two Ichthalids strode forward. Thresh reached out with one huge hand and clamped down on the head of a brown-haired woman in a torn dress. She bleated and tried to get away, but her struggles were no more effective than if she’d been a kitten. His eyes turned milky and began to glow pale purple. Tempus felt power radiate off him, the same as he felt when S’nash crushed one of the soldiers. He didn’t like the feeling. It was like there was something crawling over his skin.
Flickers of chaos power, like nearly colorless flames, rolled down Thresh’s arm. The woman fought more desperately.
The chaos power reached her. She screamed once and went limp.
He
dropped her. Her flesh rippled as the chaos power engulfed her. Her hair burned away in a flash. Her skin turned red, then began to burn away with a sizzling, popping sound. Tempus stared at her in horror, unable to take his eyes off her. The power continued its work once the skin was gone, devouring muscle and fat as well. A horrible odor filled the air. Soon the bones themselves were visible. Arms, legs, skull. Her ribs were the white branches of a tree.
But she was not dead. New flesh began to grow. Muscles covered the raw bones, more and more until her arms, chest and legs bulged with them. Raw, new skin grew back over her muscles, hairless and pink. She spasmed a few times, then rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright.
Her clothes had burned completely away, but they no longer mattered. She only vaguely looked human. Her eyes had turned pure white. She stood there, arms hanging down at her sides, veins standing out starkly on bulging new muscle.
Tempus realized he’d taken a step back and forced himself to move forward, plugging his spot in the line. And not a moment too soon either, as the paralysis gripping the slaves broke suddenly, and they surged forward, fighting to escape.
The Ichthalids waded into the slaves and snatched two each out of the mob. The rest of the panicking Maradi slammed into the line of soldiers. Tempus hit the man who came at him with the flat of his sword right above the ear, laying him out flat. The next one got past his weapon and lowered his head and hit Tempus in the chest, hard enough that he lost his balance and started to fall over backwards. Grunting, he forced the man back, hammering him in the teeth with the fist gripping the hilt of his sword.
Then it was all a blur of screaming, terrified faces and bodies. He struck at them over and over, knocking them back, kicking their legs out from under them. He gave up using the flat of his blade and simply fought to stay upright. Every blow sickened him, especially since so many were women, and all of them were thin and weakened from their ordeal. But neither did he want to suffer the fate that awaited them, so he fought his hardest. He might never sleep well again, but he was going to live.
At length he realized that no more were coming. At his feet lay a number of bloodied figures, some moaning softly and writhing. He raised his eyes and looked on the horror that the Ichthalids had wrought, were still wreaking.
Dozens of the slaves were down, thrashing on the ground as flesh burned away, and flesh returned. Some were already climbing to their feet and were waiting, jaws slack, eyes white. There were no expressions on those faces. Their humanity was gone.
Tempus lowered his head, unable to look anymore. A thin hand reached out and took hold of his ankle. Looking up at him was the young woman he’d spared the whip. Tears filled her eyes.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
Tempus looked around. The Ichthalids had their backs to him. None of the other soldiers were looking at him.
With a feeling that he would never be the same again, he pressed the tip of his sword against her neck and pushed. Blood flowed, and she sagged to the ground, her eyes closing.
When it was over, the Ichthalids looked on their creations dispassionately.
“Return them to work,” Thresh said. “They will follow any orders you give them. We will return after these die and make more for you.”
Chapter 25
“I just heard,” Lukas said, a little breathless after his run. He and Strout had just arrived on the second floor of the ruined temple. “They’re putting the ships in the water today.”
“So soon?” Fen said, surprised. “But I thought it would be a few more days at least.”
“It’s the slaves, whatever the Ichthalids have been doing to them,” Lukas replied, his eyes haunted. “They never stop. They just keep going and going.”
“Until they die,” Strout said. The squad took turns spying on the ships, recording their progress. That morning had been his and Lukas’ turn. “That stops them.” He sounded angry. He was angry. For all that he pretended not to care, what he’d seen had taken its toll on him.
Lukas went to the area where he made his bed and sat down, putting his head in his hands.
“You okay, Lukas?” Gage asked. He had the spot next to Lukas, and he leaned closer, concern in his eyes.
“No, I’m not,” he said dully. “I can’t…I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.”
Strout went to his spot and savagely kicked a clay pot that had been left there. It flew across the room and shattered on the wall. “Don’t leave your shit in my spot!” he yelled to no one in particular.
“Where are you going?” Cowley asked Fen, who was putting on his cloak.
“If they’re putting the ships in the water, then that probably means we’re sailing tomorrow. I’m going to go get Ravin and bring her into the city. She should be safe here now, especially once the Ichthalids and Lowellin are gone.” Over the past few days he’d nearly gone to retrieve her several times. He hated leaving her out there, wanted nothing more than to have her near, but he didn’t trust Lowellin. And there was still a chance that the Ichthalids would find him and the squad. He wanted her nowhere near if that happened.
“I’ll come with you,” Cowley said, jumping up and coming over.
“No, it’ll be easier if I go alone. One person is less noticeable than two.”
“They’re not really paying that much attention anymore, now that the search for you has been called off,” Cowley said.
“Still, I think it’s safer this way.”
“Okay,” Cowley grumbled, sitting back down and returning to the dice game he and Wallice were playing. He’d been losing steadily to Wallice all morning. Fen didn’t think he’d won a single throw. He probably owed Wallice the next two years of his pay…if he ever got paid again. But still he wouldn’t quit. Fen knew it was because he was going crazy from sitting around. Sitting around and doing nothing wasn’t something Cowley was good at.
They were all feeling more than a little crazy. Except for recon and to acquire supplies, Fen kept them in the ruined temple where they were less likely to attract trouble.
“I’ll be back in a couple of bells,” Fen said, pulling the hood over his head and climbing out the back window that looked down over the ravine. “Someone keep an eye on Noah.”
“What?” Noah cried from his spot at the window overlooking the street in front of the house. “Why me? What am I doing?”
Fen paused and gave him a look. “Besides looking for trouble, you mean?”
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Noah said with a glower. Fen looked pointedly at the long knife in his hand. Noah had been messing around with it all morning, flipping it, holding it up to the light, stabbing the wall. Where he’d gotten it, Fen didn’t know. Weapons were not something Lowellin had supplied them with. But somehow Noah had gotten hold of one yesterday, and since then he had it in his hands nearly every waking moment.
Noah looked down at the knife. “It’s best to be ready,” he said.
“She’s only an old woman,” Fen said. “She’s not a spy for Lowellin.” He was referring to the old woman who was up on the roof of one of the nearby buildings, hanging up laundry.
“You don’t know that,” Noah said, returning to staring out the window. “She sure goes up on that roof a lot, is all I’m saying. Pretty suspicious if you ask me.”
“Maybe she’s using the chickens as spies,” Cowley said, throwing the dice and wincing at yet another bad throw. The old woman had a small chicken coop on the roof. “You’re cheating, Wallice. I don’t know how, but I know you are.”
Wallice said nothing, only collected the dice and another one of the homemade debt markers that Cowley had made from scraps of cloth he’d found.
“Sure, make fun of me,” Noah replied. “But I’m not going down because of carelessness. Always vigilant, that’s me.”
“Always crazy, you mean.”
Fen lowered himself to the ground and hurried off through the brush. He climbed up beside the footbridge and headed for the city gates. H
e was glad the ships were finished, glad to finally be leaving the city. The Ichthalids were quickly burning through the Maradi slaves. Once they were out, he knew they’d start using Samkarans. He’d seen what was done to the Maradi. He didn’t think he could continue to stand by if they did that to Samkarans. Nor did he think his squad would either.
But he was uneasy as well. Once they were on those ships, they would be completely at the invaders’ mercy. There’d be nowhere to run to, no place to hide. Nor did he really trust Lowellin yet. His gut told him that Lowellin was playing a deeper game, and he and his squad mates were walking right into it. But if he was, Fen couldn’t figure it out, try as he might. What was Lowellin’s end game? What did he stand to gain from all this?
Fen still didn’t know if he was going to stand by and let the Ichthalids take the last piece of the key without doing anything. Every instinct he had rebelled against it, but maybe it was as Lowellin said. Maybe those instincts were simply instructions implanted in him by the masters. Maybe the key really was a relic of an ancient war between two alien races, and it had nothing to do with Fen’s world.
Once again, as he had so many times over the past few days, Fen told himself he’d simply have to wait and see. He’d go along, keep his eyes open, and stay ready. He might still find a way to stop the Ichthalids. What would he do? he wondered, if he found himself with a chance at the last piece of the key. Would he try to destroy it? Once before he’d tried to destroy a piece of the key and failed, but he hadn’t used his power that time. This time he would. He could crush a rock in his bare hand now. Would that be enough to crush the key if he got hold of it? But what if that simply meant the Ichthalids were trapped here on this world, with no way to leave? Then he’d be dooming his world to suffer under them.
He had one other hope, one he was almost afraid to think about too much, since he had no idea if there was any truth to it. And that was Ravin’s idea that on the other side of the sea he would find someone else like him, someone strong enough to defeat Lowellin and give him those terrible scars on his face. If he could join forces with that person, together they might be able to defeat the Ichthalids and Lowellin.
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