“You’ll have to,” Ghezu said. “He’s being held secretly because he has friends in the Brotherhood. My contract requires that I interrogate him. He was working for Fyak, training his troops. There’s a lot that the High Council needs to know.”
“That’s your concern, not mine. You know the rules. All prisoners undergoing questioning must have a member of the Guild of Medics present! You’ve abused this prisoner by not bringing him to me on arrival! And you didn’t tell me his wounds were in this state! They have to be cleaned— I’ll need to return to my infirmary. In the meantime, has he eaten or drunk anything since he arrived? I thought not! Get some fluids into him immediately. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
They made him get up and sit on the edge of the bed. He was forced to drink water till it ran down his chin and started him coughing. Despite the analgesic, the pain was intense and he almost passed out. Then he was returned to the bed. Gratefully he sank back down onto his stomach, hands clutching the bed frame as he waited for the agony to subside.
The physician returned and began cleaning his wounds. Kaid lost consciousness almost immediately, and when he next woke, he was alone. He felt better—the effects of the stunner blast had finally gone. All that remained was the pain of the flogging.
One of the guards came in, bringing food and water. He was ordered to remain where he was, and for that one meal only, he was fed. Afterward, he slept till the physician woke him by removing the dressings and giving him more medication.
“You can get up when you feel ready,” he said. “In fact, the sooner the better. I’m not replacing the dressings, those wounds need to breathe now. I don’t need to tell you to make use of your back muscles, do I? Good. I’ll see you in a few days, then.”
*
Time settled down into a predictable routine. Day and night meant nothing to him as the overhead light was always on. His cell was in one of the disused basement corridors of Stronghold, one of those carved from the living rock itself. The room was sparsely decorated. An iron bed, a night table, and a wooden chair was his only furniture. The toilet was a closet at the rear of the room and consisted of little more than a seat over a long-drop down to the roots of the mountain.
The solitude would have affected most Sholans badly, but Kaid was used to it. His “day” consisted of eating and sleeping punctuated by short exercise periods when, mindful of the physician’s warning, he did his best to stretch his aching back. Ghezu had refused to allow him any further analgesics so to escape the constant pain, when he wasn’t sleeping, he recited his litanies and meditated, trying to boost his internal healing system.
Scabs had formed over his wounds, but every time he exercised, it caused them to split. Gradually, though, his back was beginning to ease.
Then Ghezu came, accompanied by another medic and two guards. Kaid stood patiently while his back was examined, the medic pressing here and there to check for swelling and sensitivity.
He suffered in silence, flinching when a tender area was touched, praying for the time he’d be strong enough to retaliate. It might cost him his life, but that was all he had left at the moment, save for the crystal Noni had made him keep. But, by Vartra, he’d take Ghezu with him when he went!
“Well? Is he fit enough?” demanded Ghezu at last.
“He’ll do,” said the medic. “I hope you realize the risk I’m taking administering this drug.” He took an ampule from his medikit and loaded it into the hypoderm.
“You’ll be rewarded,” Ghezu said.
Kaid tried to step back from the medic. “No way are you going to …” He was cut short as one of the guards grabbed him by the arms and held him still.
The medic pressed the hypo briefly against Kaid’s upper arm, fired it, then turned to leave.
“What the hell have you given me?” demanded Kaid, trying to pull free.
“Get him ready,” ordered Ghezu, ignoring him. “We’ve only a few minutes before the drug takes hold.”
Unceremoniously Kaid was dragged over to his bed where, with the help of the other guard, he was flipped down on his back. He began to struggle, then stopped as he realized it would only speed up his body’s absorption of the drug.
While one held him still at gunpoint, the other quickly fastened padded bands round his wrists and ankles. His arms were drawn beyond his head to be secured to the bars there, then his legs were similarly secured by cords to the foot of the bed. Pulling against them, he tried to ease his discomfort, but found it futile. He was effectively prevented from moving anything but his extremities and tail. He had no option but to lie there, staring helplessly at the ceiling, waiting.
Ghezu ordered the guards to leave, then Kaid heard his soft footfall approaching. Anger and frustration rose in him as he realized that because of the angle his arms were in, he could barely turn his head to look at him.
“I told you, Kaid, that you’d pray for death before I finish with you. Well, the waiting’s over,” he purred, his voice soft and full of menace. “It starts now. I’m going to break you. I’ll have you begging and groveling for a quick death.” He stopped, moving his face into Kaid’s view. From the front of his shirt, a torclike neck ornament fell forward, its inset green stone reflecting the light from the ceiling.
Kaid’s eyes were drawn to it. Where had he seen its like before? Rhaid—the telepath Fyak had taken captive—she’d worn one. The stone had a hypnotic quality about it, making it difficult for him to look away. There was more, if only he could remember… .
Ghezu moved out of his line of sight, breaking the spell. “You should be beginning to feel the effects of the drug about now. A sense of well-being, of relaxation. Yes, I can see it’s already begun,” he said. “It won’t last long, though.” The footsteps stopped.
“In the next stage, your senses will become sharper. Every experience will become heightened. You’ll be able to hear a beetle crawling over the floor in the next cell.”
Ghezu walked down to the foot of the bed, testing the bonds to make sure they were tight. “The last stage, though, is in the lap of the Gods—or, as you would say, En’Shalla. You could see your deepest fears, or perhaps your wildest dreams. That’s the problem with psychotropic drugs, they aren’t predictable. And this one is a bit of an unknown quantity—it’s from off-world.”
Kaid could already feel the second stage starting. Ghezu’s voice was beginning to boom in his eardrums. He folded his ears backward in an effort to lower the sound level.
“I didn’t deprive you of an En’Shalla ritual after all, Kaid, did I? I’ll leave you to enjoy the experience,” Ghezu said, flicking the pads on Kaid’s foot with a claw tip.
Each one of Ghezu’s footsteps seemed to echo in the room and the door, when it closed, sounded like a peal of thunder. No sooner had silence returned when the light went out, leaving him in utter darkness.
He tugged at the bonds again, trying to twist free but the movement of the soft padding against his still raw wrists felt like grit was being rubbed into the wounds. Round his ankles, the displacement of his fur as he twisted against the cuffs felt like a thousand hot needles were being driven into him.
He became aware of the feel of the blanket against his injured back. The bindings not only held his limbs taut, but served to press him firmly against the bed beneath him. He could feel the woollen fibers being forced into the partly healed wounds, causing him even greater pain.
A rhythmic, pounding beat dominated his hearing, sending waves of panic radiating through him till common sense took hold of him again and he realized it was the sound of his own increased heartbeat.
Every instinct told him that he must break free, but fighting it physically was impossible. The slightest movement brought discomfort and pain. He forced himself to lie still, concentrating on breathing slowly and deeply.
Under his breath he began to curse Ghezu as he realized the sophistication behind his use of the drug. His anger and frustration built, and with it his pulse, until the beating in
side his head again dominated every thought.
He gasped for air only to find that tiny particles of dust were scraping and burning their way down into his lungs. Reflexes started him coughing, and once again, the bonds restricted his movement. The small, jerking spasms that were all his body could make only added more pain. Panic began to rise in him again as he continued to gasp for air, trying to combat the pain by hyperventilating. Each breath only made catching the next one more painful.
Trained reflexes finally took over and he clamped his mouth shut, drawing shuddering breaths in through his nose. Gradually the spasms stopped, and his breathing eased.
Think, he told himself. Use your brain! It’s only a chemical reaction that’s causing this. What did Ghezu say? That I’d see my worst nightmare or my greatest wish. If pain and panic creates fear, then somehow, I must remain calm.
His breathing under control again, he began his relaxation litany, gradually forcing the tension to drain from each muscle group as he turned his focus deep within his mind. Having achieved that much control, he attempted the litany to banish pain, and instead of fighting against the drug, he tried to go with it, letting the sensations, good or bad, course through him without reacting.
It took time, but time was unimportant to him as he drifted in some limbo world between wakefulness and sleep. He felt his internal rhythms change in response to the drug and knew he’d correctly assessed the way it reacted to his state of mind. Where it found fear, it amplified it, triggering memories of terror and pain. Where it found calm, the memories were gentler.
Like a river in spate, the drug surged through him, driving fragments of images into his consciousness. He saw Lijou, lying asleep with his lover, then Noni, sitting at her table holding one of her crystals, concentrating on what she thought she saw within it. She stiffened, looking up suddenly at him. Her expression changed, becoming one of fear. She was speaking, but he couldn’t catch the words. Her hand opened, showing him the crystal she held within it. Then the image was gone, swirling away in rainbow colors to be replaced by one of Dzaka sitting in a kitchen he didn’t recognize. Kusac and Garras were there, arguing over something, then that, too, was swept away.
The smell of incense and of charcoal; the small statue of Vartra with the crimson curtain behind it. A slight figure running into the Shrine room, her body moving the way no Sholan’s could. Carrie. She looked up at him as the priest joined her. Ghyan followed her gaze but was unable to see him. She reached out, so close he could almost feel her fingertips.
Suddenly, sickeningly, the world spun around him, flinging him back to his own body and the accumulated pain of lying tied to the bed for so many hours. Against his chest, he could feel the touch of her hand, feel it withdrawing from him till all that remained was the warmth of the crystal that lay in its leather pouch against the base of his throat.
The light came on, and blinking in its glare, he twisted one wrist experimentally. Where the binding held him, it was tender, nothing more. It was over, for now. He shut his eyes, letting his breath out in a long sigh. Then he thought of his crystal and prayed Ghezu wouldn’t notice it.
The door opened and Ghezu entered with two guards. The one he recognized as Zhaya bent over him and administered another shot from the hypoderm he carried. His arm was so numb, he was hardly aware of the sting.
As quickly and efficiently as they had bound him, he was released. He tried to speak but found his mouth so dry that his tongue was sticking to the roof. Painfully he pulled his arms down and pushed himself into a sitting position. He reached for the water standing on the night table by the bed, noticing that Ghezu and his guards had retreated until they were standing in the doorway.
The returning circulation sent pins and needles coursing through his limbs and his hand shook as he took several small sips from the mug before putting it down.
“Nice try, Ghezu,” he said. “You almost had me there, till I worked out how the drug operates.”
Ghezu shrugged and turned to leave. “No matter,” he said. “That was only a foretaste, a gentle introduction if you like. This dose is stronger. Did I tell you its effect is cumulative? It stays in your system for several days, causing sudden and unpredictable periods of hallucinations. With what you’ve got in your system now, it should last well over a week. Pleasant dreams, Kaid, pleasant dreams.”
The door closed behind them, leaving him alone again. Fear rushed through him. Was Ghezu lying? He’d only just managed to beat the drug, he didn’t know if he could do it again it so soon.
Instinctively his hand went to the crystal. He could feel its gentle warmth even through the soft leather. The fear began to recede and as it did, he found he was able to think clearly again.
What did Ghezu hope to achieve by saying the drug’s effect was cumulative? Make him afraid to sleep lest it started working while he was dreaming? Who knew what nightmares could come alive for him. He’d also be just as afraid to stay awake. Once again, Ghezu was using his own fear as a weapon. Even if it was a lie, sleep deprivation coupled with constant fear was enough to weaken him considerably, given his already vulnerable state of health. At least this time, he wasn’t tied up.
He felt the drug beginning to course through his system again. Lying down, he pulled his blanket round himself, then curled up on his side, tail tucked close. A thought occurred to him, and reaching up, he tugged his fur over the crystal and its thong, hiding it from sight. Then, using the sensations of relaxation the drug was giving him, within moments he was asleep.
*
He dreamed strange dreams, drifting in and out of sleep and wakefulness as the drug controlled his every thought. The world beyond his mind seemed distant, removed from reality. Events that happened there seemed to take forever to reach him, his awareness of them arriving long after the incident had passed. Food and water he remembered, only because they made him eat. You gave him too much! Gradually the words penetrated and began to make sense, but it was of no importance, now.
Before him, scenes unfolded like the petals of a flower opening gradually. A sun-baked desert, the sky holding circling carrion birds that drifted lazily in the updrafts. A figure, his clothes mere rags, stumbling along the rocky outcrop toward the shade of an opening in the foothills. Staggering, his hands already blistered by the heat of the rocks, the gaunt male pulled himself into the opening to collapse in the shade.
The smell of water aroused him, and on all fours, he crept deeper into the welcoming coolness until he found the well. Choked by debris, the water now flowed sluggishly over the rim to the cavern floor. Scrabbling frantically, the gaunt one scraped a hole large enough to collect water to drink.
He drank deep, spitting out grains of earth. Thirst finally quenched, he collapsed once more, drifting into sleep.
Kaid watched as the shadows outside lengthened. The male within awoke. Refreshed by the water, hunger now dominated him. Rising to his feet, he surveyed the cavern, sniffing the air in the hope of something edible. Where there was water, there was life. His gaze fell on a clump of darkness at the far side. He staggered over to it, feeling the dampness of the ground under his feet.
He felt the gaunt one’s surge of joy as he began ripping the broad, leathery leaves off the strange plant and cramming them into his mouth. Be careful! he wanted to call. Don’t eat it! but it was already too late. His initial hunger satisfied, the male leaned back against the rock wall and began to examine the plant. A gleam from the earth caught his eye and scraping one-handedly at the roots, he pulled out a stone. Green it was, and though smooth, irregular in shape. Absently he licked the other hand where the juice from the plant had run down to his wrist—juice as green as the stone. As his hand closed on the colored pebble, he looked out to where the moon sent a shaft of white light into the cavern. As he did, Kaid recognized the gaunt face, and the eyes with the beginnings of madness in them. Fyak.
The shock of recognition sent adrenalin through his system, flinging him into a swirling maelstrom of sights a
nd sounds that had him retching till his stomach and throat hurt.
There were vague memories of being taken down a passage to a room where he was held in a relentless stream of hot water. He struggled weakly against those who held him, gasping for breath, but they batted his hands away as if he were no more than a cub.
Someone rubbed him down, and pain flared through him as the towel tore at the scabs on his back and wrists. Flung back on his bed again, the smell of his room and the clean bedding on which he lay brought a sense of familiarity and he began to sink once more into the drug-induced stupor.
He should be over this by now! The voice was loud, enraged.
You gave him too much! I advised against using this drug—we don’t know enough about it yet, no matter what that damned mad prophet of yours says!
Watch what you say, Medic, lest you join him! I want him conscious, and coherent! Now!
I can’t work miracles! He’s not excreting it, the toxins are remaining in his system!
Then do what you can, dammit! He’s no use to me like this!
I can do nothing. You’ll have to wait till he rids himself of the poisons.
Then came silence, and with it, a sense of urgency and self-preservation. He reached under his pillow, gradually pulling the sheet back till he could feel the mattress. Feeling over its coarse surface, his fingers searched for places where he could conceal his crystal. He found one, where a stud in the mattress had come free, leaving a small hole behind.
Reaching for the thong round his neck, he pulled it loose. Carefully he enlarged the hole with a claw tip, finally pushing his crystal, bag and all, under the top layer of material. Teasing the cloth over it again, he pushed the sheet back, finally pulling his hand free.
Willpower alone had kept the drug’s effects at bay, now it coursed through him once more.
He dreamed of Fyak’s lair. Khezy’ipik, the desert cavern carved from sandstone. A golden glow from torches held in sconces bathed the lower walls, glinting off the larger particles of quartz embedded in its surface. On either side of him as he walked down the passage, giant bas-relief carvings of people or gods lined the walls. The figures were seated, their limbs arranged in tidy formality. He stopped to look at their faces. Fear gripped the pit of his stomach then rushed upward making him lightheaded as he stared up at the shadowy reptilian faces of Valtegans.
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