Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  “She’s breathing sir!” the old woman moaned, pulling the door closed and bolting it.

  He heard it, horrible rasping through a windpipe nearly crushed by the drag of gravity on her head.

  He rapidly scanned the apparatus that held her, saw where it was moored to the wall, ran there and grabbed the rope.

  “Catch her head!” he ordered, choking on the words. The old woman stumbled forward, holding her hands out. Menders lowered Katrin to the table rapidly, the old woman cradling her head and straightening her neck. Katrins chest suddenly rose freely and rapidly as she struggled for air. Her eyes remained closed.

  “Katrin! Katrin!” he shouted, his hands on her face, straightening her neck more, lifting her head slightly. She breathed more deeply, but did not respond. The old woman put her hands under Katrin’s head as a pillow. Menders looked at her body and the foulness that had been done to it.

  Madness descended.

  He’d take a halberd from one of those toy soldiers and he was going to finish this insanity once and for all, butcher that drunkard Queen and her mad bitch of a daughter, kill every slavering sycophant in the place, have revenge for what they had done to his girl, his baby. They’d drown in their own blood and he would watch and he would laugh!

  “Sir, you must take her from here, before they come back!” the old woman cried, her voice full of terror.

  The redness before Menders’ eyes cleared. He saw the woman staring at him, her rheumy eyes wide with fear. He drew in a long sobbing breath, then another.

  “That’s a good boy,” the old woman said shakily.

  “Please – I know you are exhausted, but would you go to the rooms of Thoren Bartan, the Court Assassin, and tell him to send Kaymar Schwalz to me,” Menders heard himself croaking. His voice was cracked and hoarse and he felt liquid in his throat. He coughed again. A spray of blood spattered his shirt.

  He tore off his suit coat and flung it over Katrin, unable to bear another moment of her complete helplessness and the horror that had been done to her.

  “Then, please, go to the Guardhouse and send Captain Greinholz to me,” he croaked.

  “The big lad came here with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and went quickly.

  Menders began unfastening the cables from the cuffs skewered to Katrin’s limbs. He focused his mind only on that, on freeing her from the repulsive spiderweb dangling from the hooks in the ceiling.

  “Only a few more, little princess,” he choked, releasing one connection after another, not allowing himself to think of the metal rods being shoved into her, piercing her. “Then I’m going to take you home and you’ll get well.”

  He unfastened the last cable and bent over her again, touching her face, stroking her hair, massaging her temples, willing her to waken.

  “Katrin,” he whispered. “Katrin, please. Oh gods, my little one, please.”

  She opened her eyes.

  Blue eyes looking into his. She reached up, her arm weighted by the metal cuffs and grasped his hand. He clung to her hand, knowing her life depended on him keeping his sanity, on his staying in control.

  “You are my little one,” he whispered, as he had the night she was born.

  Somehow, Katrin smiled. Her eyes closed.

  Running footsteps. Kaymar exploded into the room, followed by Bartan. Kaymar stopped short, staring at Katrin. Bartan retched, then rapidly shook out a folded blanket he was carrying and flung it over her.

  “We’ll get her to my rooms,” he said.

  “Someone stop Hemmett before he gets here, tell him she’s injured. I can’t carry her safely, none of us can,” Menders whispered hoarsely, his throat on fire. “He can’t see her without being prepared. Kaymar, hurry, intercept him.”

  Kaymar fled. Bartan came to Menders and grasped his arm.

  “When did they do it?” he asked. “They posted Guards on my damn quarters! Ten of them, because they knew Kaymar was there. They’ve been holding Hemmett as well. The old lady coming rattled them and they let us go.”

  “They took her hours ago – look.” Menders drew back the blanket and his jacket so Bartan could see the muscles that had been stretched through Katrin’s skin. “On her arms and legs too.” Menders grew faint. He bent over Katrin, resting his head against her so he wouldn’t pass out. She needed him awake and able to function.

  Bartan drew the blanket back over Katrin as Hemmett’s running footsteps came down the corridor. Menders took a deep breath and stood upright, knowing he would have to steady the young man.

  Hemmett appeared at the doorway. His face contorted in horror, then shifted to rage.

  “Who did this?” he roared.

  “Quiet,” Menders rasped. “We have to get her out of here and you’re the only one who can safely carry her. Pick her up and follow Bartan.”

  Hemmett automatically obeyed the order. He went to the table, tenderly gathering Katrin into his arms, flinching as the cuffs clanked against one another. Bartan rapidly led them away down the corridors, twisting and turning through back ways and disused passages so they wouldn’t be seen. In his rooms, he directed Hemmett to put her on the bed as Bartan bolted the door behind them.

  Hemmett knelt beside Katrin, whispering her name, touching her face, begging her to open her eyes.

  “We’ll need bandages, soap, water,” Menders whispered and then coughed violently, spattering himself with more blood.

  “Don’t talk!” Bartan said roughly. “Sit down. I’ll get what you need.”

  Menders went to Katrin, who had worked her eyes open again.

  “Bumpy,” she breathed and Hemmett sobbed with relief. Menders eased him out of the way, bending over her.

  “Katrin, we’re just waiting for some bandages and then we’re going to take you home. Hemmett will carry you to the boat.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes.

  A knock on the door heralded Kaymar, who had several bottles in hand.

  “The Court Doctor doesn’t have a bandage I’d put on a toad,” he snarled. Bartan was already tearing up a clean sheet. Kaymar started on another.

  “We have to go now,” Menders gasped suddenly, feeling panic. “We don’t have time to wait. Hemmett, pick her up. Bartan, get us out of here!”

  Hemmett didn’t hesitate, gathering Katrin up again. Just then, they heard the unmistakable sound of the Palace Guard searching, moving along a corridor nearby.

  Bartan looked out and then led them at a near run to the passage he used to enter and exit the Palace without being observed. It let them out into the dark gardens, where a hidden path brought them to the street.

  Kaymar dashed out into the traffic and stopped a cab, distracting the cabby while Hemmett dove through the open door with Katrin, followed by Menders. Kaymar climbed up with the driver, who whipped up his horse when he saw the fistful of florins Kaymar held out in exchange for illegal speed and recklessness.

  ***

  Kaymar steadied himself against the bucking motion of the steam launch, knowing Ifor was up in the wheelhouse getting every last bit of speed he could against the choppy waves blown up by a storm passing over from the east. It would slow them down, making the journey between Erdahn and The Shadows twice as long.

  They’d rushed Katrin from the cab into the boat with Ifor’s help. In the cabin, they’d torn all the cushions from the seats and made a bed on the floor for her, while Ifor guided the boat away from the dock and opened the throttle all the way. While Hemmett tore the sheets they’d brought with them into strips, Kaymar and Menders sat beside Katrin and began the grisly process of removing dozens of metal rods from her body.

  Kaymar had seen some dreadful things in his time and was acquainted with some strange practices, but dragging metal rods from Katrin’s body sickened and horrified him. He ground his teeth, he bit his lip, he chewed on his tongue – and he watched as Menders, face set and ghastly white, withdrew one rod after another, flinging them aside. He would was
h the wounds tenderly, swab them with spirit and take a bandage from Hemmett, binding up the wound before going on to the next cuff. Kaymar did likewise across from him, trying not to think, trying not to imagine the pain.

  Hemmett vomited when he saw the wounds on Katrin’s chest, where the muscles were pulled through her skin. He stoically swabbed away the mess, washed his hands and began tearing more strips. Each time a rod was removed, Katrin bled, red patches appearing on the blanket. Menders bathed the distended, stretched muscles and then looked at Kaymar.

  “I don’t know whether to leave it for Franz or push them back into place,” he whispered, for the first time appearing uncertain.

  “Best to put them back,” Kaymar replied, knowing the longer the muscles were exposed and distended, the greater Katrin’s risk of infection and deformity would be.

  He helped Menders massage and push the muscles into place, using bundles of the torn sheet as compresses when the blood flowed.

  Suddenly Menders was shaking as if he was palsied. He had no control of his hands and sat back hard against the wall of the cabin. Kaymar leaned over and felt his forehead. It was icy.

  “You’ve had enough, Menders,” he said sternly. “Turn away.”

  To his surprise, Menders did as he was told, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Kaymar put a blanket around him.

  Hemmett moved forward and began removing the remaining rods, his face set and fierce. Kaymar wanted to tell him to stop but didn’t dare. Hemmett was not a force to be trifled with.

  Finished with the cuffs that bound Katrin’s right arm and leg, Kaymar gently turned the blanket down past the pectoral injuries he and Menders had cleaned and covered – and nearly vomited as Hemmett had. Hemmett’s eyes opened wide. A horrifying expression distorted his face as he saw Katrin’s skewered breasts.

  “I’m sorry, Katrin,” Kaymar whispered, forcing his hands steady as he began withdrawing the metal rod in her right breast. She moaned and woke, then cried out as he drew the spike free. Menders moaned and huddled against the wall, shivering. Kaymar rapidly mopped blood – and pus. His heart sank at the sign of infection.

  “All right, Willow, I’m going to pull the other one,” Hemmett said gently, his voice a wild contrast to the murderous expression on his face. Katrin gritted her teeth as Hemmett slowly and steadily withdrew the rod, releasing another gush of blood and pus. She cried out again. Menders turned, looked and began to retch.

  “No Menders, do not look!” Kaymar said roughly. “I’ll deal with this.” Hemmett mopped away the fluids as Kaymar lowered the blanket more, revealing the belt skewered to Katrin’s sides. He pulled the rods out as quickly and gently as he could, repeated the cleaning and bandaging process, watching as Hemmett began to bathe the wounds on Katrin’s breasts carefully, his face so enraged that he looked as if he was wearing a mask.

  “Aidelia spit on those rods.” Katrin spoke, her voice barely audible over the slapping of the hull on the waves and the noise of the engine.

  Kaymar knew she was aware her sister had probably killed her.

  Later, Kaymar was resting against the cabin wall after turning the lamp low, his eyes closed in exhaustion. Hemmett was asleep on the floor. In the silence, Kaymar heard Menders crawling over to Katrin. He pillowed her head on his lap, leaning over her.

  Menders began to speak softly, his voice no more than a whisper.

  “Once upon a time, the Dark Knight found his beloved Princess injured and tangled in a terrible spiderweb. He cut the Princess free and removed the cruel needles that bound her to the trap. He cleaned her wounds with magical water and bound them up in clean linen.”

  Kaymar flinched. He was familiar with the fairy stories Menders had told Katrin from babyhood, about the Dark Knight and the Princess he had raised as a daughter. They were Menders’ own inventions, based on their lives at The Shadows.

  “I will take you back to the beautiful, safe place at the top of the world where I brought you up,” said the Dark Knight, after the Princess’ wounds were dressed. “I will take care of you until you are well and strong again.”

  “But the Dark Knight’s heart was broken. He had failed the Princess and had not kept the sacred vow he’d made when she was given to him so many years before, that he would never let her come to harm…”

  Kaymar sank his teeth into his lower lip, hearing Menders’ voice shaking and then failing him. He knew Menders thought he was asleep and wouldn’t hear. He fought to keep his breath even and steady, fought the sobs that rose in his throat.

  “Oh, my baby,” Menders gasped, the pain in his voice almost more than Kaymar could bear. “My baby.” He said no more.

  Kaymar was thankful the cabin was dark, so the tears running down his cheeks couldn’t be seen.

  The Shadows, Mordania

  2

  The Red Beast Called Rage

  “T

  he wounds themselves are largely superficial,” Franz said. “No internal organs were pierced, no bones were broken. The problem is infection.” He had just examined Katrin again, four days after their return from Erdahn.

  Menders sat silently, exhausted. Eiren took his hand and he held on tightly. His guilt was endless and deep and though it had been days now, he could not break free of it.

  Katrin – he hadn’t kept her safe and this horrible thing had been done to her.

  “I’m going to keep the infected sites open, so they can drain. She’s strong and young, which is in her favour. She’s never been seriously ill except for her bout with putrid fever. I’m wagering that she will survive, but it’s going to be a struggle. I will do everything I know of to fight the infection.”

  Menders nodded. He knew about infection, far too well after the issues he’d had with his eyes. It could be beaten, yes, but he also knew that infection, even of relatively small wounds, killed people every day. Katrin’s wounds were deep. At this point all thirty-eight of them were septic.

  “I have sent a message to the Queen, to the effect that Katrin is seriously ill because of these injuries,” Franz went on.

  “Hemmett?” Menders asked wearily, his voice an agonized croak. The savage scream that erupted from him when he first saw Katrin hung like a slaughtered animal had torn one of his vocal cords

  Franz shook his head.

  “Very unstable. Furious, wants revenge. If we prevent him from seeing her, he’ll get worse but he becomes irrational when he does see her. It will take time.”

  Hemmett was tortured. He prowled constantly and could not sleep. He would rant to anyone who would listen that he was going to kill the Queen, he was going to kill Aidelia. Borsen and Villison were making sure he spoke only to them. The things he said would mean an instant death sentence, not only for him, but for the entire household as well. Franz had advised confining him, but Menders couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Initially he’d hoped he could have Hemmett go to Luntigré in Samorsa, but as the depth of Hemmett’s instability became clear it was obvious he couldn’t be trusted not to try to get to the Palace instead.

  “I’ve heard from Kaymar,” Menders rasped. “The Queen is off the wine again, apparently trying to stay sober. Threw a fit that Katrin was gone.”

  “My letter will put an end to that,” Franz said coldly.

  “Franz, what else can we do?” Eiren asked.

  “We need to continue constant nursing,” Franz said. “You, of course. Borsen – he’s very good with her and with nursing in general. He’s able to stay in control of himself. Varnia, Zelia and Petra are good too. Katrin needs to see as much of people as she can bear, to keep her spirits up. This includes Hemmett, but he will have to be spoken to about his demeanor. He upset her the last time he visited her.”

  The room was silent. Franz continued.

  “Katrin has begun to run a fever. We will have to watch to be sure it doesn’t go too high. I have cut down my practice entirely so I will be here at all times.”

  Menders leaned against Eiren, who p
ut her arms around him.

  He was exhausted. He’d barely slept since Katrin had been carried into the house and he spent most of his time by her side.

  He had also brought together all of Hemmett’s Guard, Kaymar’s and Menders’ Men, as well as the estate farmers and their families. He had given his orders.

  They were on high alert, with extra watches and patrols. Every man on the place was doubly armed, with instructions to shoot first, ask questions later. Pairs of Menders’ Men were patrolling the district on horseback, ready to raise the alarm if any sign of a force from the Palace was seen.

  Menders fully expected a garrison to be sent after them. He had removed Katrin from the Palace without permission or notice. It would be considered an execution offense. He was sure it wasn’t a matter of if a force was sent to The Shadows, but when.

  He was done with obeying the Queen in any way. If soldiers came, they would be fought, down to the last man and woman on The Shadows. All the Men and all the estate farmers knew their Princess had been tortured and was near death. They were prepared to fight viciously to defend her against further harm.

  An eerie stillness descended over the estate. Necessary summer work was going on, but the usual warm weather symphony of children playing, music being made and laughter was silenced. Farm women were seen with gun belts buckled on over their aprons. The farmers carried rifles with them while they were in the fields. Everyone was watchful. Everyone waited for the next report on the Princess, who was confined to bed, shivering with fever and pale to the lips.

  “I need to get back to her,” Menders whispered, embracing Eiren briefly, then rising and leaving the room. He went up the stairs, cursing at his legs, which shook from weariness.

  Borsen was sitting with Katrin, cooling her forehead with a cloth dipped in cold water. Katrin’s fever was obviously rising.

  “Uncle, please get some rest,” Borsen said gently.