by Jo Spurrier
‘Your former master tried to control her and failed, and only a fool fails to learn from another man’s mistakes. A rabid beast can’t be tamed — you must know that, or why else would you be here, acting as her lapdog?’
‘I have my plans. Or at least I did, before you came along. Now what do you mean to do with this one?’
‘Oh, we have a use for him. Kasurian, bring him along.’
They marched Isidro through a few twists and turns of the halls, and into another chamber, where they anchored his bound hands high overhead, and then tethered his feet as well for good measure. As the ropes pulled tight, Isidro said a small prayer of thanks to the Gods that his maimed arm was long past paining him. A chill sweat broke out across his shoulders as they hauled his arms up, but with the splintered bones long gone the pain it had always brought in the past did not come.
Once he was bound, they pulled the mask from his head. Fontaine was watching, her arms folded across her chest and her face set in a sneer.
‘Now, Lord Rasten, I have a job for you,’ Pelloras said. ‘Your first in service of the emperor. The cache at Demon’s Spire had a library of irreplaceable value. The rest of the installation was irreparably damaged in the accident, but those cursed books are in there somewhere, and this wretch knows where. I want you to make him talk. Can you do it?’
Rasten gave him a look of disgust. ‘Of course. What state do you want him in at the end?’
‘The emperor wants him for the Triumph, but otherwise you can do as you wish. I have my own torturers, but perhaps they could learn a thing or two from an expert such as yourself, Lord Rasten.’
‘No doubt,’ Rasten said, ‘but I’ve dealt with this one before. Let him sweat for a while. A week perhaps, with just enough water to keep him alive. Starve him to weakness before you begin, otherwise you may as well sit there pounding away at a stone wall.’
Fontaine gave a snort. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this, and from the terror of the north, too. Let him sweat? Starve him into submission? Sir, this creature isn’t a tiger, he’s just a housecat, soft as pudding. I’ll wager I can make the wretch talk, and in well under a week.’ She stalked across the chamber to Isidro and trailed her fingers over the scars running from his collarbone down past his navel, skimming over the stones in her path. ‘Take these scars … why don’t we just open him up? He’ll talk soon enough if the alternative is having his guts piled around his feet.’
The scars twinged, but then, as her hand trailed over a stone, he felt the energy bound into the harness throb and die away. It was a brief sensation, a fraction of a second, then the hum of power rose again, but it was slightly different than before. Wasn’t it? It was hard to be sure, and he was a Sensitive. Could any of the mages sense what she’d done? The Akharians had sent only their best on this mission and they were far too powerful to feel such a subtle shift. Isidro held his breath. What was she playing at? Someone had been betrayed, and ever since he’d come to his senses in the northeast tower, he thought it had been him, but now … now he wasn’t so sure.
With her back to the others, close enough that he could feel the warmth from her skin, close enough that only he could see her face, Fontaine caught his eye and winked.
Behind her back, Rasten gave her a scornful look. ‘I hope your other torturers are more skilled than this one, General. Spilling his guts won’t make him talk, you daft wench. All it’ll do is give us a deadline for questioning him. Rule number one, don’t make it easy for them to take their secrets to the grave.’ He turned back to Pelloras. ‘If you give her to me I’ll teach her some sense when I have the leisure for it. She seems to have the spirit for it, if not the wits. It might be amusing to have an apprentice of my own.’
Pelloras glowered at her. ‘You hear that, Fontaine? I swear by all the Gods, if you say one more word out of turn —’
She turned to him with a glare that could have melted stone, but then slunk back to her place with her head bowed. The men around her smirked.
‘Alright, Lord Rasten, the women ought to be ready for you now. Let me check that the shields are in place, and they’re all yours.’
They trooped out, and at first Isidro thought they were leaving him alone, but that hope was dashed when Pelloras signalled two of the men to stay behind. They leant against the far wall to study their prisoner with a single lantern between them for light.
‘So what do you think he’ll do to that traitor bitch? And the red-haired queen?’ one of the guards said.
‘What, aside from spreading their legs and pounding them bloody? The redhead will go back to her kin, but the turncoat is ours until we get back to Akhara. I’d wager that every man among us gets a chance to teach her the error of her ways. Hey, and from what I hear this cursed Blood-Mage doesn’t care where he sinks his shaft. Didn’t he fuck this wretched cripple once before?’
‘That’s what I heard, and I bet he shrieked and squirmed like a woman, too.’
Isidro ignored them, focusing on the stones. As the shock of this sudden turn of events faded, he realised the wall that had blocked him off from all power was gone. He could feel the mages across the room, feel the power they held. It was a lot by the standards of anyone less than Sierra. Isidro couldn’t match it without her power to call upon.
The guards droned on, unaware that he wasn’t listening. What mattered was Sierra. They couldn’t fight her, and they knew it, so they would come up with another way to deal with her. Their only hope was to kill her, quickly, and in a way that wouldn’t give her a source of power.
She didn’t have long. He had to find her, he had to find out what they planned, and he had to do something about it, quickly.
Sierra shifted her weight on the rough wood. Stupid, stupid girl. Hadn’t she sworn that she’d never surrender again? Nothing good ever came of giving your enemies power over you, nothing. Only … only she couldn’t let them harm Cam. There was no bluff behind Pelloras’ words. They’d have put both his eyes out, and the Gods alone knew what they’d do next. If she let her focus slip, she could hear the screams … she’d heard them often enough, within these very walls. If she’d heard Cam’s voice crying out in that kind of pain … No, I won’t let it happen. I won’t let him be scarred like the rest of us. No matter what I have to do.
No, she’d had to surrender. The alternative was unthinkable. I have to find a way out of here.
The stones burned like ice. Her chest ached, and every breath sent a wave of pain through her ribs. It was a sick joke of the Gods who’d made her, she thought, that she could draw power so easily from others, but she could raise none whatsoever from her own nerves.
There came a noise beyond the door, and Sierra held her breath to listen. It was muffled, but she made out scuffling feet, and a dull kind of click. After a few moments it died away, to be replaced by the snap and crackle of fire spreading through dry wood and a brief rattle of steel. They’d lit a brazier. What did that mean? Were they settling in for a long wait?
That didn’t make sense. They had to kill her swiftly. But how? Poison was the traditional method of dealing with inconvenient mages, but the Wolf Clan had tried something similar once before, only to see their plans thwarted. The clan knew it was unwise to get too close to her, even with enchantments pressed into her skin.
What did that leave? When they strung her up like this, she’d half-expected a crossbow bolt between her ribs, but the moment they pulled the blindfold off she knew that was unlikely. If they were going to take that route, they’d never let her see it coming. And they couldn’t simply leave her to starve. It would take far too long, give her too much opportunity to squirm out of this trap.
She could smell smoke wafting through the darkness. Sierra snorted to clear her nose, and tossed her head, trying to stir the air around her, but the ropes gave her little room to move. The smoke stung her eyes, and she squeezed them closed.
It was then that she realised how the Akharians meant to kill her. It wasn’t a brazier they’d
lit beyond the door — it was a smoker. They were turning her cell into a smokehouse and they’d strung her up to suffocate.
Sierra pulled on the ropes and bit her lip as they ground into her skin. How long would it take the chamber to fill? Even as a girl, she’d heard of families who had been snowed in, only to be found dead in their furs from trapped smoke.
Sierra hauled again on the ropes, hanging off them with all her weight. She had to cut them, then she could drop to the floor where the air was cleaner. It was such a simple thing, to slice through those bundled fibres. On any other day she could have done it without a thought.
The stones were cold and hard against her skin, half of them rousing a dull and bitter ache, others prickling like thorns under a shirt, heavy and hot. The straps of the harness bit into her skin, and were pulled so tight they cut into her flesh, rubbing her raw.
The smoke was growing thicker. Eyes stinging fiercely, Sierra ducked her head as low as the ropes would allow to draw a clean breath, but already the air felt thick and dry and she could feel the urge to cough building in her chest. Spirit of Storm, defend me, she thought. She didn’t have long.
Delphine wrapped her arms around herself and trembled as the others were marched from the room. The men standing over her were Battle-Mages. They underwent years of training to hold firm and calm through any disruption, but she was no warrior.
Once the others were gone, the guards pulled Mira away into the back room, while more herded Ardamon, Rhia and the others after her. A moment later, one of the Akharians emerged with a bundle in his arms.
Delphine went cold all over when she heard Illiana’s voice rise in a wail.
The Battle-Mage beckoned the other men standing over her. ‘Bring her.’
The guards seized her arms, and dragged her after the mage.
They took her down a few turns in the hall and out onto an exposed walkway. Delphine had had no idea such a thing was here, but at a glance she guessed it had a chimney running underneath the flagstones, for it was free from snow.
The man holding Illiana looked around appraisingly. ‘This’ll do,’ he said, and began to unwrap the blanket bundled around her daughter.
Delphine shoved forward. ‘No! Stop!’
The man ignored her, and the two guards wrenched her back. One of them kicked the backs of her legs, forcing her to her knees, while the man stripped Illiana out of the warm blankets and into the biting air. Then, he took hold of one helpless, flailing leg, and dangled her out over the void, while the babe shrieked in outrage.
‘Stop, please!’ She could hardly speak for the fear like a noose around her throat. ‘I’ll do whatever you want, don’t hurt her!’
The man ignored her as he took hold of Illiana’s little fur jacket and pulled it off. It took her knitted cap with it and both tiny garments were allowed to flutter away on the stiff breeze. ‘Give her the stone.’
One of the men took a hand away to reach into his coat. With no conscious thought, Delphine wrenched away from his slack grip. For a moment she broke free, and lunged forward, thinking of nothing but snatching back her screaming child, but the other guard yanked her back and struck her across the face, rattling her teeth in her skull.
By the time her senses returned, she was pinned once again, this time with her arms twisted painfully behind her, with Illiana still screeching in the Battle-Mage’s nonchalant hand.
One of the guards was holding a stone in front of her face. It seemed huge, the size of a hen’s egg. ‘Open up, bitch, and eat it. You might as well get used to it. It’s not the largest thing you’ll have to swallow over the next few months.’
‘Get on with it, traitor,’ the leader said. ‘My arm’s getting tired, and who knows how long the little one has out in this cold?’
It would have been easier if they’d let her take the stone herself, but they pinched her nose shut and forced her jaws open, shoving the stone past her lips.
It turned her lips numb at a touch, and sat in her mouth like something long-dead. It made the power within her shrivel like a green weed cast into flames, but Illiana was screaming. There was nothing she could do but force it down, even though the effort left her choking on the flagstones, while the enchantment sat in her stomach like a chunk of greasy lead.
When it was done, the Battle-Mage shoved Illiana back into her arms. Shaking, with tears freezing in her tangled hair, Delphine enfolded her within her jacket. Illiana felt as cold as ice, and wailed as though her heart was broken, while Delphine wept with her.
She was still blindly weeping as they marched her back through the rubble and ruin of the guardroom.
A handful of mages sat around the table where she and her kin had taken a meal just a short time before. As Delphine’s escort returned, one of them stood, and nodded towards her chamber. ‘The other one’s in there. We’ve checked it over. It’s all secure.’
‘Is the turncoat back yet?’
‘No, but I doubt they’ll have long to wait.’ He sneered at Delphine. ‘It’s no more than a traitor deserves, at any rate.’
They marched her to the door, which had been altered to be barred from the outside, and then shoved her in with so much force that Delphine stumbled and fell, setting the babe wailing afresh.
Someone was sobbing in the darkness. Out of reflex, Delphine tried to conjure a light, but retched again as the stone in her belly throbbed with biting cold. ‘Wh-who’s there?’
‘Delphine?’ It was Mira’s voice, cracked and raw.
‘Mira? What have they done to you?’
‘They took my son, Delphi,’ Mira sobbed. ‘They’ve taken Cade!’
The smoke was getting thicker. Sierra could no longer duck below it, and each breath drew the foul, suffocating stuff deeper into her lungs.
Her chest ached, and her head pounded, but she knew how to concentrate through pain. It was a lesson hard-won and she wouldn’t dare forget it.
She took small, shallow breaths in an attempt to keep from drawing the soot-laden air deep into her lungs, but it did little good. The urge to cough overpowered her, and each one sent a deep, tearing pain through her chest. Her head was spinning, just as it had when she was on the rack, on the cusp of fainting from the pain.
Sirri? A voice rumbled in her head. Sirri, can you hear me?
Issey? How …? The stones. I can’t reach you.
I’ll explain later. What’s going on, Sirri? Are you alright?
No. I can’t breathe. I can’t get out. She wasn’t sure just how he’d reached her, and her head was pounding too hard to think clearly, but just knowing he was there gave her hope.
Alright, he said. Hold on. I’ll try to disarm the stones.
She found herself nodding, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. Hurry, she told him. Please.
For what felt like an age, there was nothing they could do but huddle together in the dark as Illiana grew warm again and Mira wept.
The Akharians had wrenched the young prince from her arms and taken him away along with the wet nurse. The men had shoved Eshta into Mira’s arms, before locking her in here, in a kind of cruel joke. Mira clutched the babe tightly to her as she struggled to calm herself. ‘Where did they take you? What happened to the others?’
‘Out to one of the defender’s walkways. I didn’t see the others, but they’ll find a way out of this, we have to believe that.’
For a moment Mira was silent, but Delphine could hear her breath hitching in her chest. ‘Divide and conquer,’ Mira said at last. ‘It’s the oldest strategy there is. They’ve got the divide part right enough; now for the rest of it.’
‘We’ve got out of worse spots than this, surely.’
Mira gulped, while Eshta fussed and grizzled in her arms. ‘No, we haven’t. Not with our enemies so thick around us, not with our strengths and weaknesses studied so closely. And not with Rasten against us.’
Delphine shook her head. ‘No. He was lying to them. I can’t believe he’d turn on us. This way, at least he�
��s not a prisoner —’
‘Perhaps. By the Black Sun, Delphi, I hope you’re right.’
Illiana was still fussing, but Delphine hardened her heart to the sound as she felt her way around the chamber, searching for a weapon, anything. ‘You saw him earlier, Mira. He was part of a family, for the first time in a decade —’
‘It was in his best interests to win our trust. He said it himself, he’s a champion liar and charming when he wants to be.’
‘I don’t dispute that, but … after what I’ve seen of him, I can’t believe it. And say what you like about him, but he’s never been a coward.’
Mira drew a shaky breath. ‘Well, I’m afraid we’re soon going to find out.’
What if she was wrong? Delphine bit her lip. The cold, leaden weight of the stone made her belly ache and her blood turn to ice. There was nothing she could do. Rasten was a Blood-Mage and powerful enough that even Sierra would hesitate to face him.
Even as she shuffled through the dark, trying to orient herself, Delphine knew it was a futile effort. The cache she’d hidden away last night was utterly useless so long as the stone was trapped within her. As she hunted, however, she did find a pen box on a shelf. She’d already tried her fingers with no luck, but perhaps tickling her throat with a feather would do the trick … Presuming the cursed stone didn’t choke her as it had almost done on the way down.
The sound of the bar being lifted startled her, and she dropped the box. As the door opened, light blazed in from the room beyond. Then, it was gone again as the door slammed shut and the bar thumped into place once again.
Delphine could feel his presence in the room, even before he conjured up a ball of flame. He looked over them both, eyes dark and cold. ‘Put the baby down,’ he ordered Delphine, before casting his eyes to Mira. In the sudden light, Delphine could see that half of Mira’s face was swollen and already beginning to bruise. She hadn’t given up her son without a fight. ‘You too,’ Rasten commanded her. ‘Put them out of the way, I don’t want to see them hurt.’