by Dan Decker
Kyson had been a good man that she hadn’t known as well as she would have liked. She had noticed and appreciated his quiet unassuming manner, but she couldn’t go so far as to say she was interested. This wasn’t saying much because she didn’t find many men attractive. While some might have preferred a handsome face or a broad set of shoulders, she wanted a man like her father.
He had had a quality of inner strength and control that her mother was fond of talking about, still years later after his death. It wasn’t that he was physically talented or charismatic; instead, his pride hadn’t usually got the best of him.
In Nelion’s experience it wasn’t just a rare characteristic in men; it was rare in everybody and perhaps why her mother had never remarried. Her father had always given Nelion his full attention and talked to her as if she was an adult, even when she was a small child.
While she hadn’t known Kyson well enough to be interested, in some ways Kyson had reminded her of her father. He’d never tired of answering questions and had kept her needs in mind. One time, after they’d both stayed late at the archives, he’d insisted on walking her home.
Nelion had been both amused and curious at the offer. As a former soldier, she was more than capable of handling any trouble she might run into and between the two of them, Nelion was the one that went around armed. If Kyson kept any weapons on him, she had never been able to detect them.
The closer they had gotten to her place, the more she’d wondered about his intentions. Would he try to steal a kiss? Perhaps invite her to do something? At the door to her apartment, he’d given her a smile and disappeared into the night. She’d been surprised at the disappointment she’d felt when she realized his intention was to only see her home.
The images of the arrow skewering him came to mind and she fought back tears and anger. Her wrists hurt. She realized that she’d formed her hands into fists and her bonds were cutting into them. It was bad enough that she’d made a fool of herself before General Rahid; she didn’t need to do the same before her captors. She took a breath and relaxed her hands.
Panic, tears, and anger were her real enemies. She continued to breathe at a slow rate, emptying her mind.
She had to keep her wits about her.
When the scratchy hood was removed from her head, Nelion recognized it as a bad sign that some of her captors hadn’t bothered to hide their identities. She refused to let the concern touch her.
Altogether, it looked like she was surrounded by a group of about twenty people, five of whom had their faces uncovered and were conversing several feet away from her. The rest wore cowls and masks; similar to the man she’d killed earlier at the Paroke Army archives.
They had dragged her up some stairs and she’d been tied down. While she hadn’t thought to count each step, she believed they were on the second floor.
The room was spacious and musty. A lantern had been set on a table nearby, giving light to the tables scattered throughout, most of which had chairs set upside down on top of them. She was in either a tavern or a meeting hall; it was hard to decide in the poor light.
She could see that it was still dark outside through a couple of windows along the far side of a wall. She didn’t recognize any of the dark buildings on the outside but that wasn’t a surprise. Rarbon was a big enough city that she didn’t have to go far to venture into unfamiliar territory. She was far enough away from the windows that it wasn’t likely that anybody would notice them from the outside. She wondered if anybody would be able to hear her if she screamed.
That would be a last resort, but when the time came, if it indeed came to that, she’d scream herself silly or until they knocked her unconscious.
Or worse.
It was ironic that the most dangerous situation she’d ever encountered hadn’t happened during her time in Korew army, but when she was working as a scribe. She remembered thinking when she took the job that it would be a great deal safer than the life of a soldier. She repressed a snort of dark laughter.
Once her utility to them had passed, her body would be found in an alley or floating face down in one of Rarbon’s canals. Or even worse, perhaps she wouldn’t be found at all. The thought of her disappearing without her mother knowing what had happened caused her to tighten her mouth and push down the panic.
She had to keep them thinking they needed her. She’d hold out through the interrogation as long as possible until she figured out something she could tell them that would make them want her alive.
As the group of un-hooded people talked just out of earshot, she twisted her arms, looking for any give or weakness in the knots keeping her secured to the chair. None were apparent.
Not wanting them to see her looking, she instead shifted in her seat to see if they might have missed one of her daggers. A shift to either side showed that they’d gotten the dagger she’d carried on her waist, but that wasn’t much of a surprise as it had been fastened to her belt. She then lifted her feet off the ground with small movements and was sad to see that they’d located the daggers in her boots as well.
She fought to keep from panicking as she tried to come up with something to do next. It wouldn’t be much longer before they started asking questions. She focused again on steady breathing.
There was a break in the group’s conversation; one of the women approached with a man who held a knife. He was tall and looked familiar, but Nelion was unable to place him. The woman wore a grim but determined smile. She was shorter than the man and had blonde hair. Nelion knew that she’d seen her before. It was there, just out of reach in much the same way a word might feel on the tip of her tongue.
“You’ve killed one of my men tonight.” The woman slapped Nelion. “Stabbing a man in the back. What would your mother say?”
Her stinging face hardened Nelion’s resolve. It was a ploy, to get her to give up something. Her mother wasn’t well enough known that anybody would have taken note of Nelion. This woman didn’t know who she was.
Nelion saw the next slap coming and twisted her head with it, to ease the blow. The woman noticed what she’d done and followed it with a solid fist. Nelion saw stars, the hit had landed on the same place where she’d taken a blow when they’d captured her.
“Where is your honor?” The woman asked, following it up with another blow. “Radim don’t kill from behind.” Her eyes reddened and her face was becoming heated. Her ragged expression was in contrast to her fine clothes and expensive jewelry. If Nelion hadn’t been in so much pain, perhaps she would have figured out who this was. Nelion had killed somebody important to the woman. She could use this. Nelion could make the woman mad to see if she’d give up useful information.
Nelion shrugged, preparing for the beating. “No honor is required when slaughtering swine.” The woman’s face twisted as a shriek escaped from her mouth. Nelion smirked. “He squealed like that too.”
The woman howled as she slapped Nelion repeatedly. Each blow was painful, but Nelion was beginning to feel numb. She embraced that feeling and focused on sucking in air. The woman pulled out a dagger from somewhere that Nelion didn’t see. Nelion braced for the blade. She would give up something Nelion could use; it was just a matter of time.
“Enough,” said the man, grabbing the woman by the arm and yanking her off Nelion. He twisted her arm until the dagger clattered to the floor. “We can’t question a corpse.”
The woman hissed. “Unhand me.” The man refused and pushed her further back from Nelion. Several hooded figures came forward at his beckoning and took hold of her before he let go. She struggled against their grasp, her face a picture of rage and pain.
The man returned as he held up his knife and twisted it so that it reflected the light of the lantern. The others, both from the group and those that wore masks had ceased all conversation and were looking at Nelion.
Beads of sweat trickled down Nelion’s back, the room felt stuffy. The man had foiled her plan to learn something of use. She wished for some of that sycanon root
that General Rahid had talked about earlier. She wasn’t in enough pain yet to use it, but it would have been nice to know it was an option.
NO! she thought. There was a way out of this, until she found it, she would endure the pain.
The man frowned. “Let’s begin. Who are you?”
So, Nelion’s hunch had been correct. The woman had been bluffing. It was a small victory, but she took it and let it buoy her up. It was time to wait until another opportunity presented itself. When Nelion didn’t answer, he struck her with a fist. “That’s a warning.”
Nelion blinked back the tears and shook her head, trying not to think of the bruises that were developing. By the time this was all over, she wouldn’t recognize herself in the mirror. She repressed another snort of black amusement; if she ever saw a mirror again.
The man repeated the question, but Nelion refused to answer. The next blow had more force and pushed her to the floor, taking the chair with her. As he lifted her and the chair back upright, she noticed one of the masked people talking to another in the group, but she was unable to make out what they were saying.
“You try my patience,” the man said.
The hooded figure that had been talking approached her tormentor and whispered something into her ear. A surprised look crossed his face. “Are you Nelion? The daughter of Lieutenant General Mien Torez?”
Clenching her teeth, Nelion didn’t respond.
“Looks like we got ourselves a high profile kidnapping here,” the man said, backhanding Nelion this time. “That’s my last warning.” He looked back at the group. “Perhaps we could use her for ransom instead of dumping her body.” The woman growled at that, but one of the people holding her elbowed her in the stomach.
Nelion felt dizzy and one of her eyes was beginning to swell shut. She was surprised that she wasn’t bleeding yet, but the way the man held the knife told her that wouldn’t last long.
“No more games,” Nelion said, surprised at how tranquil and distant her voice sounded. “I’ve seen your faces. Why leave me alive?”
The man smiled. “You act like the daughter of Mien. You are correct, we will kill you, but you can keep your mother from coming to harm. All you have to do is answer some questions about Semal, and we won’t touch her.” If they came after her mother, they’d have a few surprises of their own. Her mother still practiced with that sword of hers every morning. Sometimes in the evening too.
If Nelion hadn’t quit Korew army, her skill wouldn’t be rusty and she might have avoided this mess. The thought made her mouth tighten. It always came back to the Hunwei. She’d left because she didn’t want to die for something that she didn’t believe in and now she was minutes away from that happening anyway.
Was it possible everybody was deceived, or perhaps was the evidence she was looking for all around her in the first place? Could it not be argued that their way of life was so ingrained towards preparing against the Hunwei’s return, that there was no way this could all have happened if it was based on a lie?
The man let his words sink in before continuing. “What was Semal looking for in the Paroke archives?”
When Nelion didn’t answer, the man took the knife and touched the tip to the outside of her forearm. He pressed the blade until it punctured her skin and looked up at her with a smile. His precision reminded Nelion of a surgeon as he sliced down her arm with a slow and steady hand.
The pain wasn’t as bad as watching the blood drip down her arm. She started to shake. After several deep breaths that cleared her mind, she could hold still again. It wasn’t a deep cut, she wondered how many it would take before the loss of blood would become an issue.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Nelion didn’t answer.
The man sighed, punctured her arm, and made another cut parallel to the first. The man was on the third when there was a commotion at the door.
Nelion looked up in time to see soldiers rush into the room. A handful of the masked people by the door were cut down. Several of the unmasked figures brought up their hoods and tried to put on their masks. One took a sword in the chest while another lost his head, his mask clattering to the floor.
Nelion kicked the man that was torturing her in the groin and felt a swell of satisfaction when he cried out, even though the sound was lost amid the confusion of the room. She kicked him again, harder with as much leverage as she could manage and almost toppled over. He hunched over in pain just as a soldier rammed a sword into his gut.
Relief flooded into Nelion, as she witnessed the situation change within a matter of minutes. Adar’s soldiers had found her.
It wasn’t until the action had died down in the room that Nelion realized the soldiers belonged to Paroke army, not Napael. When General Helam Morgol entered the room a few moments later, he only had eyes for the woman that had been beating Nelion.
“At last, we come to this Elaire,” the General said. “Our agreement protects you no longer.”
Chapter 13
The calm demeanor General Helam had worn when dealing with Adar earlier in the evening was gone. Nelion had only met Helam for the first time tonight, but everything she knew about him said he was a man that guarded his emotions. She’d overheard that some of his men referred to him as Stoneface.
If she hadn’t been aware of Helam’s reputation before tonight and hadn’t witnessed Helam’s lack of emotion while dealing with Adar, somebody for whom he had obvious contempt, perhaps his visible anger wouldn’t have been so surprising. His face was contorted with rage, his lips pulled back and teeth bared like a wild animal about to take a bite of the beast it had just brought down.
Seeing Helam in the same room with the woman who had been torturing her—Helam had called her Elaire—Nelion could finally make the connection that she hadn’t been able to make earlier.
Elaire was Helam’s wife. Adar’s suspicions about Helam were beginning to look misplaced. Helam had mentioned that his agreement with Elaire was over. Was he talking about their marriage?
No, people didn’t talk about it in that way.
Both Adar and Semal had been convinced Helam was involved with the Kopal, yet here he was killing and capturing them.
Nelion didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. All the Kopal were either dead or captive. Had Helam discovered Elaire’s treachery and agreed to keep it hidden? If so, that was a dumb thing for him to have done.
Elaire, although she was now held by Helam’s men, looked Helam in the eye, holding her head high as he approached. Blood ran down the side of her face and dripped onto her blouse. Her grief at the death of her friend had been wiped away and between the two of them, she looked like she had a better handle on things.
“You are making a foolish move,” Elaire said. “I long ago put in place precautions that would ensure you never survived my death. I am giving you one chance to leave with your life. If you do not take this opportunity, you will die.”
Several of the nearby soldiers exchanged glances and murmured something that Nelion wasn’t able to make out. Helam made a sound that could have been classified as a laugh, except that it sounded like a wounded creature dying. Nelion was surprised by the pity she felt for him.
“So this is what our marriage has come to. Threats of death.” Helam shook his head. “When you promised me your love, I never thought it would end like this. My love for you ran cold today. I had hoped you would return to me as my wife but that didn’t mean I sat idly by all these years. I’ve compiled a list of individuals with whom you have had dealings or who have provided me other reasons for suspecting they are Kopal. I gave that list to my men and ordered that these people be executed. Whatever support system you think you have, it will be wasted, your plans to kill me from the grave won’t happen.”
The temperature in the room went from warm to frigid. Helam was executing people without a trial? Nelion glanced around at the Paroke soldiers, wondering what they thought of this. None of them looked surprised and few were concer
ned.
They’d already known and were choosing to follow him anyway. She suddenly felt naked and exposed, without even a dagger in her boots for comfort.
What would an angry wounded man do with a woman that had just witnessed his confession of mass murder? She didn’t like any of the answers she came up with.
“My. Dearest. Husband.” The venom in Elaire’s voice made the words sound like a curse. “Did you think that I trusted you? Anybody you saw me with was somebody I wanted you to suspect. You might get lucky with some of the people you murder, but most will be innocent. And while I don’t doubt your ability to live with their blood on your hands, do you realize what this will do to you politically? Any hope that you ever had of getting the Rarbon Council to allow you into the Rarbon Portal will be gone once your actions become public knowledge. Oh yes, I know about that plan of yours.”
Helam approached his wife while withdrawing his sword from the sheath strapped to his back. Elaire’s eyes filled with fear, but Helam kept it at his side. “What makes your people think that the Hunwei are so close to returning?”
The question took Nelion by surprise. Why would Helam think that Elaire would answer a question like that?
Elaire broke into laughter. “You’re hardly in a position to be asking for favors, now are you? Unless you want to make another deal. But I’ll tell you this, the Hunwei are coming. And they are coming soon. If you fight them, you will die. Mankind’s only option is to submit.”
Helam brought up his sword and held it to the neck of his wife. “You dare speak to me of positions? Years of planning are laid to waste because of your actions. All that I hold dear, you’ve stolen from me. Worse, turned against me.” Helam’s face was red. Had he been betrayed by one of his officers?
“Do you want to live?” Helam asked. “Answer my questions and I’ll consider it.”
Elaire was breathing in huge gulps and her eyes were big. “Do it.”
Her words caused him to growl and Nelion could see his pain. He might claim to no longer love Elaire but Nelion didn’t believe it. Helam’s mouth worked, looking for words. He had probably wanted Elaire to beg for her life. His hand pulled back the sword, preparing to swing.