“And that’s not even counting the ones we can’t find. In the last three nights, I’ve lost a hundred and twenty-two men, Mage Castillo. Acceptable losses in a time of war, wouldn’t you say?”
He wanted to say no. No amount, no matter how small, was acceptable to him. Instead he said, “And how many did you kill with the grenades planted in the wounded? How many Delaluzians did you tie to that pole?”
Roulier stopped pacing. He spun on Gabe, lips peeled back in a snarl. “This is different. We have witnesses who say all this death was caused by one man.”
“And that makes it worse?”
“It makes it unnatural. No man could do what this creature has done.”
Anger and disgust wared in Gabe’s chest. “At least he kills honestly. Face to face.”
Roulier looked ready to pounce, but du Serres stepped between them. He stared into Gabe’s eyes until Gabe looked away.
“He? So you know who it is.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I’ve believed everything else you’ve told me.” He took Gabe’s arm and turned him around to face the dead again. “Our first night of occupation, I received reports of encounters with a remarkable individual. This man fought his way clear of an entire advance unit of my most elite soldiers before taking on part of another unit singlehanded. Archers put several arrows into him, he was shot and still he managed to kill every man standing against him. He was believed to be among the dead your priest took to the pyre. How convenient the priest is now too dead to answer my questions.”
Gabe swallowed, wanting to deny David would kill Ismael to keep him quiet. Yet the ease with which the man killed was very well displayed right here.
“Men I have no reason to distrust have confidently informed me the attacks of the past two nights were carried out by a single man, coincidently matching the description of the man from the first night.” Du Serres grabbed Gabe by the back of his neck and shoved him at the first row of bodies. “Do you know how many of these men died within the walls of your impenetrable, magic crafted compound?”
Fighting to keep from falling onto the body of a soldier burned beyond recognition, Gabe snapped, “You got in.”
The hand around his neck tightened, pulled him back and overbalanced him the other way, so he fell on his arse at Roulier’s feet.
“Tell me who he is,” du Serres ground out.
“Do you really want to know?” Gabe demanded.
The general’s hands curled into fists. Roulier’s boot dug into Gabe’s ribs.
“Tell us,” the colonel snarled.
A smile twisted Gabe’s lips. “You said it yourself, General. He’s a demon. You can’t kill him, you can’t stop him.”
Roulier’s boot slammed into Gabe. He rolled over, arms wrapped around his ribs, unable to breathe around the shooting pain.
“The scripture of the One God is clear,” the colonel snarled. “Thou shall not consort with the dark forces.”
The next blow found Gabe’s kidney. He tried to tell himself the pain was all in his mind. It didn’t work.
“If it were up to me—” Roulier’s boot shoved Gabe onto his stomach. “—I wouldn’t allow any of you so called mages to live. If you aren’t demons, then you definitely consort with them.”
So soon after his conversation with an actual demon, Gabe would have laughed, but he could barely breathe. In the very corner of his eye, he saw the colonel preparing for another kick. Desperation gave him strength and Gabe hauled himself to his hands and knees, preparing to scramble away, but the boot caught him in his gut. If he hadn’t already lost everything in his stomach, he would have then, coughing up a gasp of barbed air.
“Enough,” du Serres snapped. “We need him able to speak.”
Perhaps testing the length of the general’s leash, Roulier got one last blow in, a savage kick to Gabe’s already smarting ribs.
“Take him back to the hut with his friends,” Roulier sneered. “And don’t fetch his pretty little Sacerdio to help him. He needs to learn about pain.”
Someone grabbed Gabe’s arm, hauled him to his unsteady feet. Every inch of him hurt, his vision blurry from the pain. He wanted to tell Roulier that he already knew about pain. He was a Bone Mage. He felt everyone’s pain.
An arm wrapped around his chest, tightening over his bruised ribs. A feeble gasp let whoever it was know it hurt, but they didn’t relax their hold. Instead, they lifted him up and slung him over a set of hard shoulders and carried him away.
Chapter 30
Pio and Botello didn’t welcome him back happily, but at least they didn’t carry through with their threats to harm or kill him, either. They were probably just waiting for his injuries to do the job for them. Within minutes of being dumped to the ground of the hut, he was coughing up blood. Careful exploration with his fingers let him know it didn’t come from his lungs. He had cracked ribs, but none of them were broken and jabbing into his lungs, thankfully. Roulier’s steel capped boot had probably just torn the lining of his stomach or something minor like that.
The thought was almost stupid enough to make him laugh. Minor? Without attention even something so minor as a ruptured lining could be fatal. And if he survived the first time he pissed, he would probably eventually die from blood lost through a busted kidney.
Being a Bone Mage was never so frustrating as it was when you could diagnose your own death but not be able to do anything about it. Kimotak had been right. His death was getting closer and closer.
“Serves you right,” Botello muttered. “Traitor. Die in a puddle of your own vomit.”
“Not vomit,” Gabe wheezed. “Blood. Big difference.”
Botello grimaced. “Well, it stinks like puke.”
Pio eyed him with a mixture of pity and doubt. “I thought you were working for them now.”
“I wouldn’t recommend their employ. The pay is shit.”
The Engineer’s lips twitched. It might have been a smile, but it was more likely a sneer.
Thankfully they left him alone so he could lie there, trying to find a lesson in the pain. All he could think was he should have listened to Sol. Be satisfied with Roque, don’t go looking for fame and glory. If he’d just stayed at home, none of this would’ve happened. He couldn’t even look back on those heady, wonderful weeks with Evellia and think it was all worth it now. Nothing was worth this. Saints! Even the Immortal Soldier wouldn’t be here if he had a choice in the matter.
Damn Rafe. He’d lied his way into the army, into Gabe’s confidence, all for what? Why would demons want to help Rafe? Had the prince made his own deal with them? The only person who could answer those questions was Rafe.
Gabe rolled over, his ribs protesting every motion.
“I think you should just lie still,” Pio said.
“No time.” Gabe sat up. “We have to find the boy.”
“Isn’t that what you were helping the Alarians do?” Botello asked snidely.
“Why?” Pio leaned forward.
“Because he’s the only one who can stop this.” And the sooner they found him, the sooner David could stop killing.
“Surely if anyone knew where he was you would have found them by now.”
“Not if nobody knows where he is,” Gabe reasoned.
“Then how are we going to find him?” Botello demanded.
Gabe tapped his head. “By using our smarts.”
“You’re so smart you got beat up by your new friends,” Botello grumbled.
“Not the first time. You know, none of us really ever believed you were smart enough to skim supplies.”
Botello scowled at him.
“Why did you do it, Botello?”
“You can’t prove anything.”
“Actually,” Pio murmured, “I can.”
Smoke began to curl up from Botello’s fists.
“Stop being stupid,” Gabe snapped, wincing at the strain it put on his ribs. “Botello, just tell us.”
&
nbsp; “Why do you want to know? So you can report me to the captain?”
“Right about now, I don’t think Meraz will care all that much about some missing guns.”
Grumbling, Botello gave in. “Cock fighting.”
Admirably, Pio suffocated his snicker before it became unforgivable.
Glaring at him, Botello said, “I breed fighting birds, but just before we came down here, an illness went through my clutch. I lost all of my best fighters. It put me in debt up to my ears. I needed to make the money back.”
Gabe stared at him. “Chickens.”
“Vicious, blood thirsty, fighting cocks,” he snapped irritably.
“But... chickens.”
Pio lost his control and laughed hysterically.
Ignoring him, Gabe asked, “Where’s your hidden stash?”
“Why?” Botello demanded. “You want to give it to your Alarian friends? Traitor!”
“No,” Gabe said patiently. “I’m just putting two and two together. You have a hidden cache of stolen weapons and ammunition no one’s found. What else has no one found recently?”
Pio stopped laughing. “I said that ages ago. I said he was with Botello’s stash.”
“But we didn’t really think it was possible,” Gabe said, adding, “then. Now, I’m inclined to believe all sorts of things. Botello?”
The big man had paled. “It’s underground. Beneath the smithy. Martillo would slip weapons down whenever he could.”
Tonio Martillo par Covadonga. Head Smith. A man with not enough earth magic to make it as a mage. If he had the right training, he could probably open small fissures in the ground, big enough to shove a rifle through, probably, but big enough for a man? Gabe didn’t think so.
“Tonio didn’t make the original hole, though, did he,” Gabe said. “He’s not that strong with earth magic.”
Botello grimaced but it was Pio who answered.
“It was Ofelia.”
Gabe didn’t wait for Botello to confirm it. He already knew she had something she was keeping hidden.
“How do you know?” Botello asked Pio suspiciously. “Suelo wouldn’t have told you. I made sure she wouldn’t tell anyone at all.”
Pio snorted. “She didn’t say anything that she was aware of. She talks in her sleep.”
Gabe looked at him, askance.
“Why do you think I sleep so much through the day? I don’t get any sleep at night with her muttering in my ear.”
“How long have you known?”
“Couple of months.”
“And you didn’t report Botello?”
“I didn’t want to get Ofelia into trouble. She’s got enough problems as it is.”
Botello smiled grimly. “I’ll say. She’s one question away from being charged with insubordination.”
“Is that how you made her help you?” Gabe asked. “Did you offer to protect her?”
“The way she behaves no one can protect her. No, I just happened to come by some information she doesn’t want made public.”
Pio glared at him. “You blackmailed her!”
Botello’s smile was smug. “Did she ever tell you about her bastard son? The one fathered by someone who’d rather keep the boy’s existence quiet? Why do you think a mage as powerful as her is in a supply company and not on the frontline?”
“Because she would do anything to make sure she got home to her son,” Gabe whispered. “Even blackmailing his father to keep herself out of as much danger as he could.”
“That’s what she said, but you can’t tell me she’s not after money as well.”
Pio’s mouth opened with some heated retort but Gabe held up his hands and stalled the potential argument.
“Let’s leave it there. Mage Suelo’s motivations aren’t on trial here. All that matters is that there is a hidden…” He looked at Botello for help. “Cave? Hole? What?”
“Hole, I suppose. About twenty feet square, ten feet down. Suelo left a ‘chimney’ of loosened dirt that Martillo could manipulate. It’s only a foot wide, not big enough to get a man down.”
“Ofelia didn’t put the boy down there,” Pio stated firmly. “She was in the command tent with Meraz from the first explosions in the main encampment to when the Alarians showed up here. Who haven’t you interviewed yet?”
“Most of the prisoners brought in from the main encampment and that alone means they had nothing to do with it.” Gabe sighed. “Ruben and Jacinta, though they can’t manipulate earth magic. I think we need to find someone who wasn’t accounted for at some point during the attack.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have upset your new masters,” Botello grunted. “You’d have better luck finding them through the interviews.”
“But that lets the Alarians know who it is,” Pio reminded him.
“Which wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Gabe said, then rushed on before Botello could call him traitor again. “Keeping Rafe hidden hasn’t helped any of us.”
“Whoever the traitor is doesn’t really matter,” Pio snapped. “In case either of you forgot, we’re prisoners. We might know where this boy is but that doesn’t mean...” He trailed off, meeting Gabe’s gaze with slow realisation.
Both of them scrambled to their feet, Pio making it to the blocked off doorway before Gabe, who doubled up in pain.
“Hey!” Pio pushed on the canvas. “We know where the boy is. Come on, you stupid fu—”
The canvas was ripped aside, letting bright sunlight into the dim hut. “What did you say?” one of their guards demanded.
“Take us to the general,” Gabe gasped. “We can tell him where the boy is.”
The three of them were hustled to the command tent faster than ever before. Gabe used Botello as a crutch for most of the way and fell gratefully into a chair the moment he was inside the tent.
General du Serres stood over him, expression returned to the implacable calm Gabe had come to know so well.
“You know where the prince is?” he asked, his curiosity mild.
“Prince?” The shocked exclamation came from both Botello and Pio.
Roulier was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Captain Modisetto was the only other officer in attendance.
“We do now,” Gabe said, carefully not looking at his fellow Delaluzians. They’d been willing to come along when it was just a Nameless Third Estate grunt they were handing over to the enemy. Now, he didn’t think Botello would bother holding himself back if given a chance to reach Gabe.
“Well?” du Serres prompted.
“First, you have to let me wake up Mage Suelo. We’ll need her for this.”
The general regarded him a moment longer, then considered Pio and Botello. Engineer and lieutenant were gaping from Gabe to du Serres and back again. Finally, he nodded to the captain, who relayed the orders.
“You had better not be playing games, Mage Castillo.”
“Pretty sure I’m past that stage,” Gabe moaned, holding his aching middle.
“Prince?” Botello demanded again, voice rising, smoke beginning to curl around his white knuckles.
“Remove him,” du Serres ordered and Botello was manhandled out of the command tent, his shouts of protest growing more strident and desperate even as they faded.
Pio remained still, pale and staring at Gabe as if Gabe’d just pushed a knife into his gut. Which, Gabe reasoned, he pretty much had. If he’d taken a moment to think about it, he should’ve come alone. Oh, Rafe’s identity would have been revealed eventually but if Gabe was honest, he would have preferred to be somewhere far away when it happened.
In short order, two Alarians brought the Earth Mage into the tent on a stretcher. Dina came with her, slender hand on the unconscious woman’s arm the entire way. When she saw Gabe, her face crumpled.
“Again?” she asked, coming to his side. “When will you learn not to pick fights?”
Gabe tried to smile. “Think this lesson might be the one that sticks.”
“Are you capable of waking the mage?
” du Serres asked as Ofelia was laid on the table. “Or does your Sacerdio need to fix you first?”
A day ago, Gabe would have pleaded for Dina’s touch. Now, he shook his head. He could think clearly through the lingering pain. Maybe he was becoming immune to it. Or perhaps not so scared of it.
He went to the table and put his hand on Ofelia’s cool forehead. His magic came in fast, coursing through his sore body and down into the Earth Mage. He found the blocks he’d put in her mind what felt like a lifetime ago and broke them down.
Ofelia shifted under Gabe’s hand and he used a spurt of magic to sooth her immediate panic at waking up somewhere strange.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re fine. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Her eyes opened, blinking against the light. “Where?” she asked in a dry, rasping voice.
“Bring her some water,” Gabe said but Dina was already by his side, holding out a mug.
Between them, they got Ofelia sitting up and sipping the water. Gabe told her in low tones the important things she’d slept through. Dina gaped at him when he said they’d found the prince and needed Ofelia’s help in getting him out. The moment he said that, understanding came to Ofelia. She ducked her head in shame.
“Don’t worry,” Gabe said to her. “No one cares about that now. We just have to get Prince Ramiero out of there.”
Ofelia nodded. “Give me a bit longer. I need to work up the energy.”
Gabe helped her off the table and into a chair. He motioned everyone back. Dina crowded into his side, holding him steady.
“How did you find him?” she asked softly.
“Logical deduction. I know. Shocked myself, as well.”
“Do you know how he got down there?”
“Not yet.”
With a sigh, Dina leaned against him. “And they’ll need you to break the sleep blocks on him.”
“I suppose they will.” Uncomfortable with the intimacy, Gabe was about to pull away gently when her felt her trembling. Looking down, he met her gaze.
There was fear in her eyes. Like the night of the Alarian attack. She’d been petrified, but so brave to stay with him. He’d all but had to force her out of the hospital to go to Captain Meraz.
Dead Bones Page 42