Blood Moon (Blood Rain Book 2)

by Nancy Gray

  Mercy thought, “Still, I don’t feel like he’s dead. He might still be alive. He might be somewhere in this prison with me. I’ve got to concentrate on getting out. There’s nothing I can do for anyone from this cell.”

  Mercy looked at the barred window and the wall beneath it. She saw that there were grooves dug into the stone over the years where people had tried to climb up to the window. There also seemed to be a suspiciously dark stain on the ground close by. It would be easy to fall if she managed to climb up that high, but she decided it was worth the danger. Mercy slowly ran her hands along the wall. It was slimy with lichen, but she found her first handhold.

  Mercy took the climb one hand and foot at a time. Even though she had never climbed a mountainside, she was used to climbing trees using small limbs or sturdy pieces of bark to pull herself along. It wasn’t quite the same. Her first fall took her by surprise when her hand slipped away from the moist wall and sent her sprawling. Despite the pain, she got up again and kept trying.

  Her nails were becoming cracked and her fingers were bleeding by the time she reached the small window—and found out it was hopeless. The bars were very strong. The opening would be a tight squeeze even for her thin body, and the wall itself looked like it was at least three feet thick on all sides. Even if she managed to get one of the bars loose, she felt sure that she would simply get stuck between the thick walls.

  Mercy released the bars and dropped down, careful to tuck and roll when she reached the bottom. Her ankle twisted painfully, but she didn’t break any bones. She inspected the cell and found that there were no loose stones. The only thing inside other than her bed of straw and the plate of disgusting food was an old rat carcass in the corner, about the size of a small dog. It looked like someone had crushed its skull with a rock. The skeletal bones were fragile, but they could be fashioned into a weapon or a lock pick if necessary. She never had any experience with picking locks, but she knew from talking with Kylas the basic principles behind it.

  Mercy slowly pulled the larger bones away, tying the ribs together with what remained of its hide to put between her fingers as make-shift claws if anyone tried to take her by force. It wouldn’t be enough to kill anyone, but it might be enough of a distraction so that she could run. Then when she was finished salvaging what she could, she wiped her hands with the straw of the mattress. She hid her makeshift weapon behind her back and set aside an extra rib for a lock pick inside of her mattress, and waited. Mercy knew after all the noise she made trying to climb up to the window that someone would know that she was awake.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  The small panel in the door pulled up and an Ashen man with black hair and black eyes said in the common language, “Prisoner, the doctor will see you now.”

  Mercy frowned. She knew from talking to Pyron that a doctor was sort of like the medicine man of their people. Still, being a prisoner, she doubted that he wanted to take a look at the wound on her head.

  “Doctor? What does he want with me?”

  The man smiled in an unfriendly way, “He just wants to ask you some questions. It would be best if you cooperate with him.”

  Mercy clutched the rat’s ribs tighter. The man began unlocking the cell door. As soon as he opened it, Mercy sprang away from the bed, rushing forward and stabbing him in the gut with the four rat ribs. She felt warm blood washing over her hand and heard him gasp in surprise before he began to cough, unable to catch his breath from her punch.

  She rushed passed him, running blindly down the passageway that was lined with thick wooden doors identical to the one from her cell. As soon as she reached the stairs, she felt a rough hand grab her by the shoulder. The black-haired man snarled a curse in the Ashen language and then punched her in the face so hard that she saw lights exploding in front of her eyes.

  “Clever little wench, aren’t you? We’ll see how clever you are when the doctor is through with you.”

  Mercy bit his arm and he screamed in pained surprise; but he grabbed the back of her neck, holding her wrists together with his other hand.

  “If you bit me again, I’ll break your neck. Do you understand?”

  Mercy sneered, “I’ll have trouble answering the doctor’s questions if I’m dead.”

  “I’ve killed prisoners for less than that. Don’t make me prove it to you.”

  Mercy felt the man’s fury and realized that he really meant it. She relented and let him push her forward. They walked to the back of the hallway, where there was a large stone room with a thick metal door. The rust on the door reminded Mercy of blood. The guard pulled the door open and there was a small Ashen man with a white coat standing over a long wooden table with chains on each of the four corners. He had wild, white hair, strange pink eyes, and light gray skin. The man looked at her with a stare as passive as that of a spider regarding a moth in its web. Mercy tried to struggle, suddenly deciding that she would rather have her neck broken than endure whatever the man had in mind.

  The guard overpowered her and secured her in the chains, one around each of her arms and legs. She managed to kick him in the stomach one last time for good measure as he secured her final foot. She knew it was too late, though. He wouldn’t kill her now. After all that she put him through, she felt sure that the guard thought torture would be a better punishment for her than a clean death anyway.

  The doctor smiled cynically. “Rather spirited one this time.”

  “She made a weapon out of a dead wharf rat.”

  “Resourceful too. It seems a pity. Well, I’d better get started.”

  The guard nodded and exited the room. Mercy wanted to call out after him not to leave her there alone with the doctor, but she fought off the urge. If she was going to die, then she would die in defiance, and would try to be brave at least.

  The doctor said, “I’d better sterilize those hands of yours. We wouldn’t want you to get sick and die from handling that rat before I find out what I need to know, now would we?”

  He ran some sort of strong smelling liquid across Mercy’s hands. She coughed slightly at the sharp smelling fumes and flinched as the liquid seeped into the cuts on the tips of her fingers, burning slightly.

  The doctor began to put on some very thin hide gloves. “It would be best for you to answer my questions honestly. First of all, judging from your anatomy and your accent while you were talking to Claudius, I’d say that you aren’t from the Sylvan Islands. Is that correct?”

  Mercy frowned. If she told him he was right, that could incriminate her people; but if she lied and said she was from the Sylvan Islands, then she would be executed as a traitor. The man was watching her as she thought it through. He had a tight-lipped smile on his face, as though he knew that she was debating inwardly whether to lie to him or not. She wouldn’t just have to come up with a lie, but also a convincing story, and she was running out of time to think. Mercy flinched as she saw him reach for a scalpel next to him.

  “I know, decisions, decisions. How should we start, with a lie or with the truth? I know my physiology. You’re not from the Sylvan Islands. But, what are you going to tell me?”

  “I’m not from the Sylvan Islands. I’m one of the Forest Tribe.”

  He smiled very slightly. “Ah, so we start with the truth. I can already tell you’re going to be a very fascinating subject. Now, why were you in Crevane?”

  “I’m an escaped slave. I took an Ashen lover in Concord, and he convinced me to come to the capital with him. He sold me into slavery and told my masters that I was one of the Sylvan people.”

  The doctor sighed and said, “And now a lie.”

  “I wasn’t lying.”

  The doctor acted like she hadn’t spoken. “You see, the body is an amazing thing. Eyes dilate, people sweat, they avoid eye contact, and everyone has a unique ‘tell’ for when they’re lying. You just have to know what to look for, but what to do about it? That also depends on the individual.”

  He put the scalpel down and b
egan to look over his tray of tools. There were several types of knives and scalpels, a hammer, and some tools that she couldn’t place at all. He glanced at Mercy and then at the row of tools in front of him, and finally picked up the hammer. He grabbed her left hand and slammed the hammer down on the nail of her little finger. Mercy shrieked in pain, unable to hold the sound back in her shock and immense pain.

  “Now, that was for lying. Are you going to lie to me again?”

  Mercy swallowed hard but didn’t say anything.

  “You’re very bright. If you said no, I would have to do that to another finger. It’s in everyone’s nature to lie, if they think that they have good reasons. You didn’t want to tell me that you were of the Forest Tribe, so I have to assume you’re a spy for them. Are you a spy?”

  Mercy said confidently, “No.”

  He frowned. “Hmmm…interesting. Then, I’ll ask again, what were you doing here?”

  The doctor exchanged his hammer for a scalpel and held it just above Mercy’s right eye. Mercy felt herself beginning to sweat and found that she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the sharp object. He didn’t have to tell her what he was going to do if she lied to him this time, but she also knew if she told the truth it would mean he would hunt down her friends. Then they would be the next ones strapped down to the table.

  “I’m waiting. For every minute I wait, the scalpel gets closer.”

  He took a strange-looking golden device from his pocket. It clicked in a rhythmic way, and he stared at it intently, moving the scalpel closer and closer.

  Mercy shivered and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t make me pry your eyelids open. I have tools to do that too. Tick-tock.”

  6

  Mercy felt the sharp point resting on her eyelid. She whimpered but stayed silent. Just as she thought he was about to puncture it, she heard the sound of a door hinges creaking open. The pressure of the scalpel tip on her eye suddenly subsided. Mercy opened her eyes and saw Pyron step into the room. He was still wearing the black and gray uniform and there was another Ashen man behind him, with blond hair and yellow eyes that stood out against his dark gray skin.

  “Doctor Appius, it seems I got here just in time.”

  Mercy could feel Pyron’s outrage and concern, but his voice was devoid of any emotion. He glanced in her direction only once, as though out of curiosity and then continued to stare at the doctor.

  The doctor scowled at him. “Well, as nice as it is to see one of my old students from the Academy days, I’m rather busy right now.”

  At the mention of “the Academy” Mercy felt fear and disgust rush into Pyron’s emotions. It was the feeling of someone trying desperately to cover up a horrible memory. Even though his expression didn’t change, Mercy noticed that his skin on his forehead got a little shinier, as though he was sweating slightly. The doctor seemed to notice it as well, because he regarded Pyron with that same thin-lipped, cynical smile that he had given Mercy when he was watching her reaction to his questions.

  “If you could come back in another hour, I’d be glad to speak with you.”

  “I didn’t come here with pleasantries in mind. That girl belongs to someone. I have the man renting her services right here, along with the paperwork to prove it.”

  “She isn’t a slave. I don’t know how you’re involved in this, Pyron, but I would suggest you leave me to my work. She’s one of the Forest Tribe. You know what this could mean. They might already be allied with the Sylvan Islands.”

  Mercy snarled, “We aren’t their allies.”

  The doctor glanced in her direction and raised an eyebrow. Pyron almost shook his head in warning. Mercy quickly became quiet.

  The other man with Pyron spoke up.

  There was something familiar about his voice as he said in the common language, “She isn’t one of the Sylvan prisoners? I was told that she was.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Even if she is part of the Forest Tribe, she did something to get herself sold to the capital. She’s yours. Doctor, unchain the girl.”

  “If she’s his slave, what was she doing in the public square?”

  The man shifted uncomfortably. “She got away from me this morning. The collar wasn’t fitting her properly. When I tried to adjust it, she bit me and struggled free. I couldn’t find her with all the people out on the streets. I’m sorry.”

  Pyron interrupted him, “She was trying to barter passage to Concord with a sailor from one of the merchant vessels. One of our operatives killed the sailor, and I personally took care of the body.”

  Mercy tried to feel for any emotion behind Pyron’s words. He was referring to Erebus, but she couldn’t tell if he was telling a partial truth and Erebus was really dead or if he had somehow managed to rescue him. Mercy could tell he was guarding his emotions as well as possible. He clearly didn’t want to give any information away.

  “You’re both very convincing liars. I know you’re hiding something, but I’ll admit that I don’t know what it is.”

  “Doctor, do I really need to bring the Dictator in on this? He’s imposing some new rules about the treatment of rented human laborers, and this citizen could get into trouble.”

  Dr. Appius snatched the papers away from Pyron and glanced over them. He whispered something under his breath, stared murderously at Pyron, but began to unlock Mercy’s restraints.

  He thrust the papers back in Pyron’s face and said, “Get out of my sight.”

  Mercy wanted to hug Pyron and kiss him all over his face, but she somehow managed to keep her emotions in check. She walked with her head down in the direction of the man with the yellow eyes as though she was ashamed and scared. He took out a slave collar and locked it around her neck. Mercy felt a chill run down her back at the feeling of the restraint. She had worn a fake slave collar to blend in at Concord, but something about knowing this one had to be unlocked made her very uncomfortable. Clearly this was part of Pyron’s plan and going anywhere else would be better than staying where she was.

  The man with the yellow eyes said in a murderous whisper, “Maybe this will teach you a lesson about running away from your betters. We’re going home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Pyron turned and said, “Thank you, Doctor.” Just the rusty, metal door slammed in his face.

  The man with the yellow eyes asked Pyron, “So, where do you want to meet me later?”

  Pyron handed him the small stack of papers. “Vesperus, take your servant home, and my representative will discuss the new rules with you by the docks.”

  He nodded. “Understood.” And led Mercy towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

  Before he reached the end of the hall, Vesperus pulled his coat off and wrapped it around Mercy’s shoulders. She was so overwhelmed that she had almost forgotten that she wasn’t wearing much. She gladly took it, buttoning it down all the way. He waved the papers at the two guards at the top of the staircase, and they nodded and let him walk by. Mercy blinked against the light of the setting sun, but it was almost enough to make her cry. The smell of fresh air and the sight of sunlight was such a relief after being locked in that box that for a moment she wondered if she was dreaming it all.

  As they walked through the city, Mercy noticed that she was getting much less attention. Since she was being led around by a chain, it appeared that she was one of the normal prisoners. Occasionally a few people would glance in her direction, if nothing more than because she was wearing nothing but an oversized coat, but she didn’t feel the same feelings of hostility emanating from them that she had during the dictator’s speech.

  Even so, the entire city seemed sinister to her. She could hardly believe that only hours beforehand she had thought the city was beautiful and the festival was fun. They passed the alleyway where Erebus tried to draw the dictator’s guard away, and there was a large dark red smear on the ground. Mercy began to cry.

  “Shhh. You don’t want to call too much attention to yourself until we get to
a less populated street. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “No. I think that my friend didn’t make it out of the city.”

  “You’ve been through a lot, but you need to be strong right now. What if I told you that your friend wasn’t dead? That none of your friends died? Would that make you feel better?”

  “Are you serious?”

  Vesperus nodded. “That’s a nasty cut on your head. One of your fingers looks broken too. Whenever you’re injured, it always makes me so thirsty.”

  Mercy suddenly recognized his voice. “Erebus? Is that really you?”

  He grinned. “You didn’t think Pyron would hand you over to a complete stranger did you?”

  Mercy said in a choked voice, “I thought they killed you.”

  “For a moment, I thought they did too. Those guns are nasty little devices. One shot blew a hole in my back the size of a fist. I managed to control the blood flow so I wouldn’t bleed to death, and I guess you could say I played dead. I was lucky that they believed it. If they shot me again, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

  Mercy shivered and walked in silence for a moment. She didn’t want to think about the alternative, and his honesty about how close he came to death stunned her.

  She whispered, “How did you get away?”

  “Pyron found me before one of them could ‘clean up the mess.’ He told them that he would take care of the body. He let me feed on his arm and helped me bandage up the wound on my back. Even though I was pretty weak, I managed to make myself look like one of the Ashen people. The only thing off was my voice and the fact I don’t know the Ashen language.”