Divided

by Rae Brooks

  One of the guards raised his sword over his head, preparing to end Alyx’s life with a single strike, but the blade met Leif’s dagger prematurely. Then, garnering the shock to his advantage, Leif slammed his foot into the man’s stomach, and then he threw his other arm back and cut the man’s throat. He’d just killed the guard—he had killed a Telandan guard! Aela’s body reacted instinctively, sprinting forward and managing to catch one of the guards in the face with a well-timed punch.

  “Bloody…” One of the men slashed, and Katt managed to catch his arm. Aela staggered backwards, into a blow to the back of the head by one of the other men. Her head snapped up just in time to see Leif roll out of the way of a stab. She reached for the man’s foot, yanking it out from under him.

  Leif used his downed position to get a kick in to the fallen guard’s head. “Aela!” he shouted. Aela jerked her head to the side, just as a sword cut down and into her side. She let out a cry. “You are going to regret that, you flea-bitten miscreant!” Then, with another solid, strong thrust, Leif ran the man through.

  “Get over here, you worthless men! The gate is about to be overrun!” another voice called from somewhere in the distance, though Aela’s head was spinning with pain due to the gash in her side.

  In a whir of feet, the men were leaving. Aela found herself entirely confused, and then someone was lifting her up. Panic ran through her as she thought that it might be a guard, but as her orientation returned, she realized it was Leif. “Aela—oh, Aela… are you alright? Aela, look at me… oh, please, please… please, Aela.” His voice so sounded unlike his own that Aela questioned her orientation again. So much raw emotion, unlike any Aela had ever heard from Leif.

  She blinked up into his eyes, though, certain that she was indeed looking at Leif Firenz. “Wh-where did they go?”

  “There was a commotion at the gate. I think they were afraid of me… are you alright? Can you move?” She had never heard him sound so anxious, and she squirmed with amusement at the newness of it.

  “Juliet!” she yelped.

  Apparently, Alyx had been knocked over, and had just recently acquired her feet. “We have to go! We have to go! They are going to kill them!”

  Leif, despite Aela’s recovery of her own feet, kept his arm around her waist worriedly. His eyes flashed dangerously as they regarded Alyx. “You could have gotten us all killed with that stunt! Do you have any idea how foolish that was?” he snarled.

  “I-I… she’s my mother…” Alyx choked out the words. “I’m sorry. But… please…”

  “Leif,” Aela whispered. “I’m fine. We have to go. If there was a commotion at the gate—that means we don’t have any time left.”

  After a few moments of consideration, Leif nodded before casting another warning glare at Alyx. “No more stunts,” he snapped. Alyx nodded mutely, and they hurried through the hole in the wall. Aela thought curiously if the men that had abandoned them realized that a hole like this could seriously compromise their defenses.

  Alyx had sprinted ahead, and Leif was staying back this time—mostly because he was too worried about keeping Aela on her feet. Despite her best efforts to inform, and show, him that she was alright—he insisted on helping. Katt was following Alyx closely, obviously trying to ensure that she kept her promise of no more stunts.

  When the crowd came into view, a thick sense of dread spread into Aela’s abdomen. She swallowed, realizing that there was an entirely new feel to the crowded people here. They were quiet, and most of them seemed a little fearful. “And now, let me remind you all—what aiding Cathalar will bring,” a man that Aela could barely hear shouted.

  They hurried forward, and Aela’s entire body felt as though it was going to collapse in on itself. The pain had nothing to do with her injuries, and everything to do with the words that continued to echo in her mind. No—he was just a little boy. She had seen him—he was only a child.

  Then, it came into view. The gallows—the stage that was designed with its post for public whippings and hanging square to end it all. The people were clustered around it, and a few of them were still screaming out, though most of them were silent. A little ways ahead, Aela could make out Alyx trying to fight through the beginnings of the crowd.

  There they were, then, Juliet and her little son. Juliet was sobbing, and the rope was already tied around her neck. Aela’s heart sank in her chest. She needed her bow—she needed anything. But there wasn’t anything that she could do. She heard Leif’s intake of breath as they watched. The little boy was standing near to his mother, and Juliet was crying out some desperate plea. She was reaching for her son, and he was sobbing, reaching back for her. The two of them were separated by what looked like over fifty men. They were in the square, keeping people back with swords. “I’m sorry, ma’am—but you made your choice.”

  With a shove, she and the child were shoved off the raised platform. “Aela!” Leif choked. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her so that her head was pressed against his chest. Even from so far away, she could hear it—the snap seemed to ring through the air, echoing off the complete silence that had overtaken Dark District. She could hear the quiet crying of the lone girl near the back of the crowd, and Aela knew who it was.

  “Let that be a lesson—that no one is above King Lavus’s laws. Any further insurrection will be met with this same fate.” The guard’s voice carried, though the snap was still lingering in Aela’s ears.

  Aela let out a choked cry. “Did they kill the boy? Please, please, say they didn’t kill the little boy, Leif,” she begged.

  “We have to get out of here. ”

  “Tell me!” she pulled back and stared into his eyes. They were glowing with agony as they looked into hers.

  At last, he answered her.

  “I’m sorry, Aela.”

  “And so he died, a sacrifice to his own selflessness.”

  -A Hero’s Peace v.ii

  Chapter xlviii

  Calis Tsrali

  Sickness had been clawing at Calis’s stomach, and he’d finally spilled said sickness all along the floor of his room. The garbage that he’d forced down his throat all spilled right back on his bedroom floor in front of him. Though, to consider this place his bedroom would be to consider the dungeon his home. The dungeon. Taeru. Again, his body convulsed and he dry heaved so violently that he was forced to his knees. Taeru…

  Claudia had come back. She had returned with her apology, and a very teary expression of how wrong she’d been. But that had been the end of it. She was still of Telandus—and that meant that she was a coward. She had been unable to help Taeru, or even Calis. Tears spilled down his face, though he was scarcely aware of them anymore.

  The few times he’d seen his father, Calis had resorted to begging. Pained, desperate pleas—just to be able to see Taeru. He didn’t know what it would accomplish, but he thought that if he could just see those blue eyes—that he might be able to find out a way to save him. But now, he sat uselessly, stuck in his foul room, unable to do anything to stop the events unfolding all around him.

  The only object keeping him sane was the silvered amulet that he still had in his pocket. He pulled it out, bringing it to his chest with another sob. Here he was crying like a child, while Taeru was being tortured for information that he would never give—oh, like information was really the object anymore—they were just torturing Taeru for fun. That was what hurt worse than anything. Taeru couldn’t have saved himself if he’d wanted to. Nothing would end the pain—and Taeru knew that as well as Calis.

  Memories of the Cathalari prince flooded Calis’s mind, just as they had through every shift since he’d been confined to his room. Holding that small body against his own, the softness of Taeru’s lips—everything about him was like a light, trying to pull Calis from darkness. But then, the idea that he had allowed Taeru, the only thing or person he’d ever loved, to come to such harm kept him there, in the darkness. Oh, why couldn’t he stop this? Why couldn’t he find a way to
get out of this wretched room?

  A few moments later, he could hear some noise outside the hallway. The guards spoke quietly and respectfully, and Calis knew who was at the door before he ever heard the voice. Lavus. Calis shoved the amulet back into his pocket and slammed his fist hard into the stone floor. A crack sprung up, spreading all along the floor and under the debris. The conversation was brief, then the door came open, and Lavus appeared before him.

  The king was wearing all of his nonsensical clothes. His cape, his ceremonious sword, his gaudy armor. None of it was left unattended as he stood before Calis. Not wanting to be on his knees, Calis yanked himself upwards, glaring into his father’s eyes with a black anger that had long since consumed him. “I am going to kill you,” Calis said, venom spilling into his words.

  Lavus chuckled brightly. “Oh, Calis. You think that—but I know you’re stronger than this. I wouldn’t keep you here if I didn’t know you could move past this. I can’t trust your brother, and I feel like this experience will make you stronger—immune to these feelings.” Calis jerked forward, and Lavus drew his sword, the blade edging towards Calis’s throat. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “Get out of here!” Calis shouted. “I am not going to ever understand you! You are a monster! A monster, and a fool who is dooming his country, and do you know why? Because you are too much of an spineless coward to admit that you are being manipulated by an unseen force. You know you are, Father!” The Magister. Lee’s final gift to Calis had been the information that the Magister had been orchestrating Lavus’s choices for a long time.

  Drawing back his sword, Lavus slammed a fist into Calis’s face. The blow was painful, and it sent Calis slamming back into the wall. Calis’s teeth ground upon one another, and his eyes met his father’s once again. “Oh, stop yammering like a child,” his father snapped. No, Lavus wasn’t his father. Lavus was a monster who should be killed.

  “Let him be, Father. There is no reason for this. He’s done nothing.”

  “Oh, quite the contrary, Calis…” The way his words were purred, as if Lavus was about to inform Calis of one of the most devious schemes he’d ever concocted, frightened Calis. The prince’s heart clenched at the tone. What had happened?

  Taeru…

  Lavus chuckled. “Your advisor has been helpful in revealing a bit of information that my guards and I have found ourselves wanting for,” the man slurred the words, as though he was saying them in a drunken stupor. Though, his eyes flickered with amusement to say that he was very aware of his actions.

  Lee. Lee had done this. No—why would he? Why would Lee tell anything about Taeru that would hurt him? Calis felt sick—sicker than he already had. He felt as though a knife had been stabbed so far into his back that he’d never get it out. “Wh-what?” Calis choked. “What do you mean?”

  “Your advisor understands what a traitor is, Calis, and after what I’ve discovered—you ought to as well. Really, hanging around with a boy who considered himself a vigilante. A boy who had injured several nobles on many different occasions. He wore a mask, you ought to have known he was a coward.” Calis’s eyes widened. “What did they start calling him—the Phantom Blade?” The smirk on his father’s face was too much.

  Calis shook his head, tears falling down his face without filter. He lunged forward, catching his father hard across the jaw. Lavus’s eyes widened at the blow, and then the sword came across Calis’s cheek, and Lavus’s large body forced Calis against the back wall. “You insolent boy!” Lavus growled. “I ought to kill you. But, just because I can see the pain in your eyes—I’m going to make you see this through. I’ll let you see his corpse after its hanging from a noose!”

  Calis snarled and fought back against his father. Unfortunately, another punch to his cheek and Calis’s head was spinning. “He isn’t a coward! He is far better a man than you or anyone in Telandus. You will pay for this,” Calis growled. “I will stop you!”

  “No, no, I don’t think you will,” Lavus said thoughtfully. “You know, I had them hanged.” The words struck Calis like another blow. “That rat family that your little lover was living with. I hung them, to make an example.”

  Pain choked him, and Calis felt himself sliding down the wall. Juliet, Alyx—Aitken? That boy had only been eight. Eight years old. And now he was dead—dead because Lavus was a madman. Calis choked out a sob, and then he shook his head. “No, no, how could you do this? They hadn’t done anything!”

  “I did it because it was needed. People need to know that they cannot cross Lavus Tsrali. It is a lesson that you are going to learn, eventually, son.”

  “Don’t call me your son,” Calis growled. He tried to get off another punch, but Lavus managed to restrain him in time. After all, shackles made it incredibly difficult to get off acceptable punches. Oh, Taeru… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault… I love you—I’m so sorry.

  Again, Calis’s father laughed cruelly at him. He shoved his son back against the wall, and Calis’s back slid down without much resistance. “Look at you, crying like some sort of a child.”

  “Like the one you murdered?” Calis snapped.

  A kick from Lavus’s thick boot busted Calis’s lip, and the prince snarled, pulling his head back and away in reaction. Blood seeped down his chin from the newly acquired injury. “Yes, like that one. And also,” Lavus pulled something from the seat of his pants, flinging it down to Calis, “as far as being a coward is concerned, your little rat sure whimpers like one.”

  With shaking hands, and widened eyes, Calis moved to look at the piece of cloth that had been flung at him. A red rag—no, a white rag that was covered in red—dried, splattered blood. Calis shook his head. “No… no, stop this. Stop hurting him! Please—please!” Calis gasped. He brought the rag into his hands, staring at it in shock.

  Lavus just offered another dark chuckle and then excused himself from the room.

  Lee, I will kill you. I will kill you for letting this happen—not just for letting this happen, but for making it worse.

  “Pain and fear can be the beginning of great evil, just as it can be the beginning of great heroes.”

  -A Hero’s Peace v.i

  Chapter xlix

  Taeru Lassau

  Having his limbs stretched before had been uncomfortable, but now—cuffed above his head, while Tareth sat on top of his entirely exposed body—Taeru wanted to scream. He wanted to scream, to die—to do anything to keep himself from this painful humiliation. His legs still ached from the walk to the room, and his mind still pulsed from the sight he’d seen in the room. There were people, locked in cells, only a few paces away from him. They were probably watching—but what were they thinking? Were they thinking at all?

  Despite having been informed that it would do little good, Taeru continued to scream, through the gag. The sound was pitiful, a weak, muffled cry that he knew no one could hear. Still, he couldn’t just sit here—letting Tareth do anything he wanted. Taeru didn’t want to be at Tareth’s mercy—not like this. Calis… why?

  “Now that I know how to make you listen to me,” Tareth said, “I can spend more time focusing on how to break you.” Taeru’s teeth clamped down on the gag, and he tried to jerk his body hard enough to break the restraints. All at once, there was a biting sensation at Taeru’s neck. His head was forced back, avoiding the bite, and he slowly realized that a knife rested at his throat. “Hush,” Tareth hissed.

  The gash on his throat had begun to heal, as it had been two cycles since the gash had been made, but the renewed blade drew blood and reopened the cut. Tareth eased the knife, just breaking the skin, across the entirety of Taeru’s neck. Despite his thoughts of death, Taeru couldn’t bring himself to scream with a knife so close to his throat. His body trembled, and he stared up at Tareth with an almost plea in his eyes. Never in his life had he felt so small, and so entirely helpless.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of this. I knew I’d get the opportunity eventually, if I just bided my tim
e… I would have you, helpless and restrained, and I could debase your body just like you did my reputation!” The words were amiable at first, and then they changed to a low, venomous snarl. Using his fingers, Tareth trailed his hands down the front of Taeru’s abdomen, to his waistline. “You’re shaking,” Tareth informed him flatly.

  Arching his back was impossible, Tareth’s weight prevented Taeru from moving substantially in the least. Unbidden tears welled in his eyes as he moved his body as much as he was able, crying incoherent pleas at Tareth to stop. Tareth’s hand eventually returned to Taeru’s cheek, gripping it forcefully, feigning gentleness. The hand sent a million thoughts of Calis into Taeru’s mind. The contrast was nauseating. For every bit of pleasure, of gentleness, Calis had bestowed upon him—Tareth took back in humiliation and pain. Sweat poured down his throat, and blood began to ooze from the thin cut along Taeru’s neck.

  For a moment, Tareth just stared at him—and even his eyes seemed to penetrate to Taeru’s very core. He was angry, furious even, and his hatred was rolling off him in waves. Gagged, there wasn’t anything Taeru could say to ease the anger, and this was precisely the way Tareth wanted it. Using the same knife, Tareth made a small incision along Taeru’s right cheek, deepening a cut that had already existed. Old blood mixed with new, and his face felt overwhelmed with the red stickiness. “I’m going to take you, little Phantom. You may as well prepare yourself, but I will make you a deal…”

  Taeru flinched. He wasn’t sure there was any sort of deal that he would be willing to make if having Tareth inside of him was part of it. His eyes squeezed shut and he jerked his head to the side. The sounds that his mouth was able to produce grew louder and, in his desperation, more visceral. Tareth’s hand caught his chin, and his face was forced upwards again. He fought it, yanking his head back and forth, wanting anything but to stare into those gray eyes. Eventually, though, Tareth’s grip became too much, and his eyes flashed open in fear.