by Rae Brooks
Fear twisted within Taeru, and his lips quivered as he tried to keep it from his face. Toys? His entire body was aching after one round of this, and all Tareth had done was hit him. Breathe, Taeru begged himself. You’re stronger than this.
As promised, Lavus entered a few moments later. Taeru had not had the pleasure of seeing Lavus so closely the few times that he’d ventured into the castle—his nightmare had not done the man justice. Lavus was a large, broad man. He had Calis’s height and Tareth’s shoulders. Taeru was sure that, had Lavus wanted to, he could have crushed Taeru with one hand. “By the Light, boy—I told you to wait on me.” Lavus’s voice was harsh, frightening, and Taeru had to work so that he didn’t flinch.
“He was being insolent,” Tareth informed ruthlessly.
Lavus didn’t look amused. Perhaps the man wasn’t as cruel as Taeru had originally suspected. “The pain isn’t going to be a shock, now, when he doesn’t answer the questions that I pose to him—you impudent whelp.” So that was the reason Lavus wasn’t happy about it.
Tareth let out a weak, wary sound, and he offered no consolation on what he’d done. Rather, Lavus was the one who spoke again. “Get him out of that chair. I have an idea less mindless and brutal than punching the runt to death. Guards!”
Taeru flinched at Lavus’s sudden call for his men. Within moments, there were several steps of footsteps echoing through the darkened room. He was thrust from the chair and onto his knees. His bindings were undone so quickly that he scarcely had time to realize it. His wrists were quickly bound again, with the same unforgiving hands as before, and a strong elbow ensured that he didn’t try to rise from his knees. At a glance, he saw five heavily armed men, Tareth, and Lavus. That was plenty to make sure that he wouldn’t be able to escape. While his body was thrust to and fro by their hands, though, he was informed of just how badly his body had been damaged by the cuts of the fist-weapon.
“Blindfold him, and then follow me,” Lavus instructed. His words were so cold, as though he was speaking to animals rather than men. Taeru’s jaw clenched as a blindfold was wrapped around his eyes, plunging him into darkness. Once that was done, he was hoisted back to his feet and dragged by forceful hands in a staggering line. Taeru tried to remember the route. He could tell by the change in temperature when they had left the original room, and they walked him in a straight line, turning twice southward. The dungeon in this castle seemed to be comprised of many corridors.
Finally, his body was flung downwards , though before his back reached the ground he was greeted by a hard, wooden table. It felt wide, though he couldn’t see to know that for certain. His wrists were undone again, and both arms were spread outwards, opposite of one another, and bound to the table he was on. His heart quickened as his ankles were bound in a similar manner beneath him. He was injured, spread-eagled, and blinded, defenseless in every way, and his lips betrayed him by trembling.
Taeru could hear someone walking about deliberately, and he suspected that the steps were meant to be heard. His teeth ground together and his heart rate continued to climb. The blindfold was not removed, and thus he remained in blackness.
One of the guards, a few moments later, spoke in a tone that Taeru was sure wasn’t meant to be heard. “Sir, those could kill him. Should we really use that so early?”
“I have much worse planned for later, and that sounded suspiciously like a soldier questioning his king.” Lavus’s voice was never kind, and it never betrayed the slightest bit of emotion—aside from anger. Anger, it seemed, was a constant in his voice. In fact, his voice seemed to embody anger itself. Cold, measured anger.
The soldier let out a slight whimper, and Taeru was sure the man was shaking his head. “No, your majesty. You misunderstand. I was simply hoping you would explain your thoughts. I should not have, my apologies.”
Lavus said nothing to indicate that he forgave the man, though he didn’t pursue the issue further. He had grabbed an object, or perhaps several objects, off of some far away shelf. Taeru squirmed against the restraints, though it did him no good. “If you are wondering, child, my son will come to hate you for what you did—of that, I can assure you.” Taeru tried to ignore the words, not wanting to think about Calis—as being in this position made the idea of Calis that much worse. “You know he didn’t really care about you. He was a child—seeking to rebel before he would be entirely engaged in running this country. You meant nothing to him. When it sinks in how completely you deceived and betrayed him, then he will hate you—just as everyone else in Telandus does.”
The painful words gripped Taeru and threw him into a torrent of raw emotions. He fought them off to the best of his abilities.
He’s right.
The voice—no, not the Magister. The Magister couldn’t show herself now. Taeru would never be able to fight her off, in addition to Lavus’s accusations. That was too much. Though, this sort of punishment certainly would not have been forced upon him if he had not done something to earn it. Taeru flinched at the thought.
“Nothing to say?” Lavus asked. Taeru could visualize the sneer that must have been on the man’s face. Lavus must hate Taeru—hate him for what Taeru had done to Calis. Taeru had deceived and tricked Calis, and due to that trickery, Calis’s opinions had been affected. Taeru had to admit to that. He should have revealed his identity sooner, and Calis was sure to realize that as well. “Tareth.” Lavus muttered the name brusquely.
There was a biting of his flesh, and it burned. The bite worsened, and Taeru realized that Tareth had cut his wrist. The knife bit in just beneath his palm, and then it dug, creating a path up Taeru’s arm—agonizing and relentless—until it reached his elbow. Then, Tareth made a quick incision into Taeru’s palm, easing up all five of his fingers with the knife, before he ran another jagged line up his arm. They both stemmed from the same central point, both connecting to the pattern on his palm. Warm, sticky blood oozed from the wound, and Taeru took slow, deliberate breaths to ensure that he managed the pain properly. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Tareth asked, and there was a sadistic amusement in his voice.
Taeru set his jaw, and his lips pressed into a line. Tareth moved to his other arm, repeating the same process. He could have hurried through it, but he took his time with every cut—slowly easing up Taeru’s arm, deepening as he went. The knife felt as though it were made of poison. Taeru’s breath broke once, and a weak mewl escaped him before he pulled himself back into forced steadiness. Aside from Tareth’s low chuckle, the room was entirely silent.
Next, Tareth moved down Taeru’s body, using the knife to create a shallow line along his chest. He broke momentarily, easing over the waist of Taeru’s pants, before he pressed the blade back into the skin—cutting open the fabric of his captive’s pants. Reaching Taeru’s foot, Tareth cut into the bottom of it, using the same gradual, slowness to move up to his knee. Much the same as his arms had been treated, Tareth drew two lines from both feet.
The slowness, the anticipation of what would come from these wounds felt nearly as powerful as the pain that they caused directly. Taeru swallowed several times, trying to force his body to calm down, but sweat poured from his brow, just as the blood poured from his wounds. “Those cuts,” Lavus began cheerlessly, “will allow the flora I hold in my hand to latch onto your body. The blood will draw its roots out, and they will nestle inside the cuts. The pain they create will be excruciating. The roots will release a poison into your system that will be so encompassing, that your body will not respond to your mind. And eventually, your mind will be so clouded that the only thought you will have will be begging for mercy.”
Despite his best efforts to avoid doing so, Taeru flinched. He’d heard of the plant, and he had been told that it was used in interrogation and torture rituals. It was called Prisoner’s Bane, for obvious reasons. The technique was usually followed by the adding of insects that inhabited the plants and entered into the prisoner’s body—tearing him apart from the inside out. Taeru deeply wished that he hadn
’t ever learned that. “Now, I am only going to ask you this once… what did my son tell you about our family?”
After a few slow, frantic breaths, Taeru worked the quivering out of his voice long enough to respond. “Nothing. He told me nothing.” He sounded much calmer than he felt, in fact, he sounded disinterested.
“I know you’re lying, child. You expect me to think that you never asked him for information on my family?” Lavus just laughed darkly. “I did say only once.” Following Lavus’s movement towards him, a strange, prickling sensation occurred along Taeru’s left wrist. Then, the prickling worsened, and he could feel the plant expanding against his skin, easing its way into the jagged lines up his arm.
The prickling persisted for a few moments, and Taeru wondered if that insignificant tingling would be the end of it. He could feel the root, moving slowly up until it touched the end of the cut. Then, abruptly, there it was. A black, unending torrent of agony. His entire arm felt as though it had been lit on fire, or rather, millions of tiny, burning needles were puncturing his skin. A cry of shock escaped him, and his mouth hung open in disbelief.
The pain was excruciating, causing a whirl of confusion to run through his mind. “I can make this pain worse, little boy—and if you fail to answer all of my questions, then after I put these on your arms and legs, I will make the pain so much worse.” The insects, Taeru reminded himself. Though, part of him wished his mind would be silent. “Let’s try another one,” Lavus sounded a little colder with every word. “Tell me the size of Cathalar’s army.”
The first question that Taeru truly could not answer—would not answer. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Shouldn’t you know that, your majesty? Considering how much you push for war?” Lavus snarled, and the prickling sensation was against Taeru’s other wrist nearly instantly. The pain followed soon after, and this time it seemed worse, dragging his mind further and further from rationality.
Lavus was irritated, but he laughed once he’d let the pain run its course for a few moments. “This will only get harder, child. Here’s an easy one… tell me one, tiny, weakness in Cathalar’s defense. Keep in mind, I’m cycles from Cathalar, but you, my helpless, little, fallen prince---are at my immediate mercy.”
“No,” he said after a considerable amount of time. “N-No. No weaknesses. Don’t go to war. You’ll die.” The words spilled from his lips. He knew it would do him no good, but the thought of the war frightened him, even in this state.
With a grunt, Lavus placed the next plant on Taeru’s ankle. This time, his body cringed away from the prickling sensation. Terror shot up through his body as he tried to prepare for the onslaught of pain that would follow shortly. The preparations did little good as the pain tore through his unprotected body like a knife. Now nearly his entire body was subjected to the pain, and his brain knew it. He tried to clench his fingers, but the roots of the plants stopped him.
“Fine,” Lavus murmured depreciatively. Taeru realized dismally that he was keening, softly, but the noise was there, and he could not force himself to be silent. “We will start slower. You’ve been seen with two male travelers recently. What are their names?”
Aela and Leif. Taeru immediately regretted thinking those names, and he quickly worked to banish them from his mind. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to stop the keening—trying to ensure that he would give away no information. “They’re nobodies,” he finally managed. “Their names are insignificant.”
At last, the final flower was placed on Taeru ankle and his body was wrapped in a cocoon of never-ending pain. He tried to swallow, tried to move, but his body was kept still, and that stationary feeling made the pain intensify. “I ought to think that you would give me those, then. As, you must be in a tremendous amount of pain right now.”
Taeru could hear himself whimpering, and he knew there was no denying that he was in a great deal of pain. He would have taken Tareth’s beating a hundred times if it would have spared him this agony. His body shivered—the only movement that he was allowed. “Alright. Looks like you’ve made it to phase two, rat. You know you won’t last much longer. Wouldn’t it be easier to tell me now, while you still possess reasoning skills, than to wait until you’re sputtering answers like a drowning canary?”
The threat was lost on him. His mind already felt as far from him as it was going to get. Held in its current position by agonizing sensations that refused to give him even a moment’s peace. “Let’s get more general—give me one, one resource that Cathalar needs—that they have trouble obtaining.”
Cathalar had been struggling to make ends meet as far as stone was concerned when Taeru had left. He wished he would stop hearing the answers to these questions in his mind. He may have lost enough control to keep those answers within the confines of his mind if this kept up. His consciousness was fading, though, which he considered a blessing. “I told you. Nothing. You can’t beat Cathalar. I’m not saying this for them.”
“This is my favorite part,” Lavus said. He sounded emotionless, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation. Taeru knew then that he had been wrong earlier, Lavus was every bit as cruel as his reputation implied.
Nothing happened for several seconds, other than the rapid acceleration of Taeru’s heart rate. He was sure that it would burst from the pounding soon, that his chest would cave in from the incessant beating that it received. Taeru could hear Lavus moving about, and when he focused, he could hear the breathing of a few of the other men in the room. He tried to focus on anything other than what was soon to follow.
Then, a sort of exploding hurt erupted along his arm. This pain was different, not as concentrated, and more tangible. His arm felt as though it was being ripped apart, as though a saw was ripping through his skin mercilessly. The saw expanded outwards, though its reach never seemed to stop. The needles from before were replaced by knives, cutting and tearing at his skin. Before, he had been unable to clench his fingers due to the root of the plant, now he wasn’t sure that his mind could command his convulsing arm any longer.
Moments passed incessantly slowly, and the pain increased. The steady increase seemed impossible, as every moment felt as though it held the most agonizing of all sensations. But steadily, it exacerbated, unremittingly. He was unaware that he had begun quietly keening once again until a cough ran up his throat, caused by unprecedented liquid, and caused him to choke. When he did, he could feel as blood spilled all across his face. A few more times, each accompanied by sprays of blood. “Are you going to kill him here?” someone asked.
Lavus didn’t answer them, instead another question followed. “Give me a weakness, boy. Give me a weakness before I tear your tiny, insignificant body to pieces.”
Fight it, Taeru begged himself, give him nothing. It’s the least you can do.
“He loved him once, and he loved him still.”
-A Hero’s Peace v.ii
Chapter xli
Aela Lassau
Aela knew there was a problem. Leif was so tense as the sun worked its way into the sky that she could have mistaken him for a knot, or rather, a very intricate system of knots. He had said nothing to her, and when she had asked him for his reason—he had become angry and cold. Something was amiss, and she knew it. Though, she could not figure out what it was. The problem was, the longer she went without knowing, the more she connected it to the worst possible scenario. Her brother.
She wondered if Taeru was in trouble. If that was why Leif was acting so very, very on edge. He seemed paranoid, and he hadn’t gone out like he usually did to check around the city. Nor had he let Aela leave, under the simple pretense of a bad feeling. “You know, I’m just getting even more worried by your silence.” Her words were clipped, as her own agitation had risen throughout the course of the moon.
“I apologize,” Leif murmured. There was none of his usual humor within the tone, though, and she could sense his wariness. “It’s just my mind working overtime. I’m sure nothing will come of it.” Once agai
n, his words left her with nothing. An empty shell of a problem that she was free to imagine.
Not to mention, Leif had positioned himself by the door, as though he were waiting for someone to walk through it. He was waiting for something, though he could have just as easily been listening to the other side. As there were no windows in the room, there was no way of knowing what was on the outside. “You’re pale. Stop trying to do everything on your own,” she hissed. His eyes flickered over to her, but there was no weakening of his resolve.
“I haven’t,” he said simply. “You are here with me, and therefore you’re entire argument is silly.” There was a sort of loathing in his voice, and her heart lurched at the idea. Did Leif hate himself for allowing her to come here?
Her eyes softened, and she took a few steps towards him. She would have to make this right. This was her burden to bear, not Leif’s, and not Taeru’s. Yet, they both seemed to blame themselves for her appearance in Telandus. “I did what I did without any input from you. You have been nothing but helpful and wonderful this entire time. Please, don’t blame yourself.” Her words were soft, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard herself so gentle.
This caught his attention. His dark, blue eyes widened as he watched her for a few moments. A flush took hold of his cheeks when he looked away. “I appreciate that. I have to keep you safe, though.” His words were low, promising something more.
She could admit it now, as well. She wanted more. She desperately wanted more from Leif Firenz, and there would never be another man that she saw so perfectly. He was everything she needed, she’d come to realize. The only problem was finding an alright time to tell him that, and her brother had interrupted the last moment they had shared. What about now? Some bold part of her mind asked her.