by Jackie Dana
“Shh.” He squeezed her hand. “You did your best. It was a good plan.” His speech, short as it was, sparked a round of hacking coughs. “I’m proud to have a friend like you. I wish you weren’t here now—though to be honest, it’s been terribly lonely in here.” Again, a cough. To Kate’s ear it sounded as if he was gravely ill but didn’t want to admit it. His voice was hoarse and weak, and his breathing was shallow, but he kept talking. “I suppose you know what they plan to do with us?”
“Oh no… I can’t—”
He put his arm around her, in a gesture that likely brought him as much comfort as it brought her. “Tell me. I know it’s not good news, but I’d prefer not to be surprised when it happens.”
“They plan to… to…” she swallowed, and gasped for air. She felt her heart pounding. So she spit it out all at once. “Oh god, Nyvas, they’re going to b-b-burn us tonight.” When she said it aloud, it sounded surreal, and even more terrifying. The horrifying images from history books, of people tied to a pyre, with smoke and flames surrounding them, flittered through her mind. Never had she expected that one day, it would happen to her. Never had she ever known the fear she tasted now.
Oddly, Nyvas seemed more amused than frightened. “Fire, eh? I didn’t think he meant it, but it seems he’s really going to go through with it after all.” He coughed again, and sputtered, as if his mouth had filled with liquid. Then he continued. “It’s an old, but fitting, punishment for traitors,” he commented sarcastically. “Not that either of us could ever be guilty of such a thing.”
“How can you be so calm?” she asked, tears falling freely. This was not supposed to happen. They were all going to die tonight, Nyvas, Rynar and herself—while Arric was locked in a tower and unable to do anything about it. She had hoped to be their savior, but she had failed them all, and herself, miserably. While she wanted to be brave, she couldn’t stop crying, knowing it wasn’t fair, that none of them were guilty of anything. Was this why she had been dragged from her home, to Sarducia? Just so she and her new friends could be killed in some of the worse ways imaginable? It just wasn’t right.
“Hush now. You must have faith in the Goddess. Surely you know by now that Kerthal will protect you. You shall not die tonight.”
“Oh, Nyvas.” She was touched by his strong belief in higher powers, and wanted to be able to share it. “I wish you were right, but I think we’re beyond faith now.”
“You still do not believe?”
“What do you mean?”
He coughed again, and then tried to clear his throat before continuing. “From the moment I met you, I sensed that you had a connection with the Goddess, though I knew not what it was. But it meant that I could trust you.” A cough, and then, in choked words, he added, “I’m glad I was able to get the others to trust you too.”
“I don’t really think...” she began to protest, and realized there was no point in arguing with him. Let him believe what he would, if it would give him comfort.
Meanwhile, he rested his head on her shoulder. With one hand she reached for his cheek, intending to stroke it. As she did so, she could feel the wiry hairs on his chin, and a substance on his jaw that felt like dried paint. His blood, she realized. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand away. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt much now.” Mimicking her, he reached up and traced out her chin, and ran a finger across her forehead, and followed the line of her eyebrows. Then he touched one eyelid, and then the other, and stopped. “It’s swollen here,” he said, startled, as he felt along the base of the orbit of her left eye. “What happened?” he sputtered, trying hard not to cough again. “Did the Senvosra do this?”
“No, it wasn’t them. Actually, you wouldn’t believe what really happened.” In a weird way, she almost wanted to laugh.
“Would I not?”
“I doubt it.” She chuckled lightly in spite of her situation, and then, not wanting to keep him in suspense, she blurted out, “Fantion hit me.”
“What?” he flinched, as much out of concern as surprise.
“No, it’s okay. I made him do it. When they proposed that I come here to offer the trade, I wanted the Vosira to believe I had really been abducted.” She inhaled, trying not to cry again, but failing in the effort. “Obviously it didn’t work.”
He sighed. “Oh, Kate, you did this all for me, even though you barely know me. First you saved Arric, and then Sander, and now me.” Again he coughed, and this time the hacking came from deeper down in his chest, and the spasm lasted for quite a while. Then, finally, it passed, and he rocked back and forth for a while, calming himself, and catching his breath. “You know, you were very brave coming here for me,” he said, wheezing with each breath, “though you should’ve tried to free Arric instead. He’s a lot more important than fhaoli, especially one as sick as I am.” Once the words were out of his mouth, as if to prove himself right, again he coughed. She held him, as if she could keep him from falling apart. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, and he put his head on her shoulder, facing away.
Despite her tears, at his statement she smiled. “I don’t know about that,” she said, trying to wipe perspiration from his face with her sleeve. “I think you’re about equal.”
He made a small sound that might have been a bit of a laugh, but couldn’t say anything more, because then he began to cough once more, the effort of it hard enough that she feared he’d kill himself from the physical force of it.
***
Once his coughing had finally subsided, Nyvas must have exhausted himself, for he drifted into a light slumber. She cradled his head in her lap, offering a bit of warmth and comfort to the dying man as he lay in the moldy cell. He did his best to sound strong and sure of himself, but she guessed that between the unhealthy conditions of the cell and his injuries, he had developed a serious infection. It was a wonder he had lived this long.
They sat this way for what felt like hours. She clung to him, offering her warmth and strength and drawing the same from him, as if they could transfuse the other with the power to survive. It was unreal to consider that she had been condemned to die, and that this was her last evening alive. Despite his assurances, it was impossible not to feel like her guts had been turned inside out. As she stroked his hair, she tried to come to terms with her life and make some sort of peace with herself.
He was still asleep when unexpected light blinded her. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that there were four men standing at the door, all with torches in their hands. So this was it.
Time was up.
“Get up, the both of you. Don’t make us come in after you.”
Nyvas raised his head slowly, and buried it again, unprepared for so much light after days of total darkness. As she worked to rouse him, she finally could see some of the visible signs of injury. Blood matted his hair and covered his shirt and face, and as he sat up, he moved with great difficulty. Broken ribs, healing badly, she thought to herself with significant anger. Even though he had been sentenced to die, he should not have been left to suffer like this.
He struggled to stand on his own, and she quickly bent down to assist him. From his breathing it was obvious that his pain was considerable, but he held his head up and refused to exhibit any discomfort to the soldiers outside.
As they shuffled slowly out of the cell, she discovered that the men outside the door were not Senvosra, as she had expected. “Bhagal Tashin? Why are you here?” It seemed coming down to the depths of hell, as this dungeon seemed to replicate, would be beneath a man of such importance. With him were three other men she recognized from the Council: Bhagali Abranir and Koldren, and Castellan Solerav. Some of her favorite people, she thought snidely. So they would have an escort such as this as they went to their deaths?
Tashin was not inclined to offer her an explanation. Instead, he gruffly barked as he led them to a set of stairs, “hush, girl, and come with us.”
Two of the men, Tashin and
Abranir, climbed ahead of the condemned pair, and the stronger two, Koldren and Solerav, behind. She urged Nyvas to go first, so she could assist him. Although she knew he was trying desperately to hide his pain from the men, more than once he groaned as he climbed the stairs, and she suspected every single step that he took was sending a rib deeper into an internal organ. Once, he was doubled over from his coughing and they had to stop. Then when they began again to climb the steps, he fell against her arms, and both of them would have toppled backwards if not for Solerav’s arm that caught her and held them both upright.
In an automatic reflex, she was about to thank the castellan for his help, but the words caught in her throat. This was the man who was to blame for all of this, for it was Solerav that had named Nyvas as the murderer of Vosira Parmon, and the man who had convinced the Vosira not to believe her earlier today. He certainly deserved no thanks for ushering them to their deaths.
“Are you all right?” she whispered to Nyvas. All of a sudden she was supporting his entire weight. In fact, as she spoke, she saw that his eyes had closed, and she feared he had fainted—or worse. Even this simple exertion might be more than he could manage now. “Nyvas?” she repeated, and as he heard his name, his head bounced up from her chest.
“Hunh... oh aye,” he murmured. “Keep pushing me,” he pleaded weakly. “Don’t let me fall in front of them.”
“You got it.” As they continued to climb, the same thing happened a second time, but by now she was half-carrying him already, so she was able to hide it from the others. It was fortunate for them both that he wasn’t particularly heavy. If he had been Fantion’s size, they would all have tumbled down the steps like dominoes.
Finally they made it to the top of the stairs, exiting into the armory. On one wall hung a few dozen bows, with quivers of arrows arranged in rows of pegs beside them. On the opposite wall were several knives and swords. In a moment of fantasy, she imagined reaching for a weapon and using it to escape, and she knew that Nyvas would have done so if he had even half of his strength left.
Remarkably, they didn’t leave this room with all its temptations as quickly as she would have expected. Instead, as she stood with Nyvas’s arm over her shoulders and her own arm supporting him from the waist, Tashin turned to face them, a scowl on his face.
“You are aware that you and the boy are supposed to die tonight, on the pyre in the city square?” he said to her.
She nodded, and with defiance in her voice, replied, “I believe that was made clear by Vosira Bedoric.” There was no point in pretending she wasn’t angry, or disguising her hatred for all of them.
“I believe you are also aware how much our Vosira depended on his Aldrish.”
His words held out a tantalizing strand of hope. “You say that like it’s history. You know, Rynar might still be alive, if the sun hasn’t set, that is.” The room had no windows, so it was impossible to tell whether it was already too late.
“My lady, do not anger me,” he warned her, a finger wagging in her face. “As I was saying. I don’t understand it myself, but Vosira Bedoric seems incapable of leading Sarducia without that damned Aldrish at his side. Already things are not going well, and it has just been the one day.” He bent down slightly so he could stare her in the eyes. “We were able to convince him that he had acted in haste, turning down the trade you offered—this worthless half-dead boy for his Aldrish. We told him that if there was even a slim chance that Aldrish Rynar still lived, he should take it.” He glared at her with naked loathing. “If you have lied, Bhara, and the Aldrish is already dead, you have my personal guarantee that you shall return to suffer the most painful tortures you could ever imagine. Unlike your friend here, you shall be easy to catch, and easier to break.”
His threat bounced off her as if it had never been made. A possibility of torture in the future, versus the certainty of being burned alive immediately? She’d take her chances. “I understand.”
Tashin waved to men at the doorway. “Very well. Be sure you do not fail, Bhara, for I do not break my promises.”
The Bhagali led the pair out to the courtyard, where a horse awaited them, along with six well-armed Senvosra, already mounted. To Kate’s relief, it was only late afternoon, but even so, they had little time. Sunset, Fantion had told her. And sunset was not that far off.
“Escort them to their meeting point,” Tashin ordered the guards. “I assume that the lady knows the way?” He glanced at her, and she nodded again, barely able to hide her elation at the sudden reprieve.
Then, staring at the horses, she shook her head. “No, this won’t work. Nyvas is in no condition to ride.”
Solerav grabbed her by the waist and practically threw her into the saddle. “It would be a shame, then, if he were to die on the way to freedom, eh?” He hoisted Nyvas up and dumped him across the saddle in front of her. “I’d suggest you hold on to him.”
Nyvas did not complain at his rough treatment. Instead, as his chest slapped the saddle, he moaned once, and then passed out, falling against her and nearly dragging them both off the horse again.
Inexperienced at riding, other than the days spent in the saddle with Arric, she could not fathom how to make the horse move, much less how to do so while holding on to Nyvas at the same time. Finally, she told the nearest of the Senvosra that he would have to lead her horse.
She called out directions to the soldiers, and thanks to Plunchek’s landmarks, reached the house without difficulty. However, as planned, she intentionally led the soldiers past it, to ensure their arrival would be noticed, and the men warned of their approach. Then she slid from the saddle, and helped Nyvas, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness, to the ground. It wasn’t a graceful descent for him, and he crumpled as he fell to the road, but it was the best she could do. The Senvosra made no effort to assist her.
“They said if they saw soldiers they’d cut the Aldrish’s throat,” she told the men. “So I’ll bring him out.”
“Aye, and make it quick, or we’ll come in and drag everyone out. Your choice.”
She would have flipped them off if it would have meant anything to them. Instead, she focused on her friend. “It will be better soon,” she cajoled Nyvas.
He nodded, and again began to cough.
“Can you walk? I’ll go slow. If not, I’ll have to get the Senvosra to help me.”
“Not them. I’ll make it,” he croaked, his words a terrible lie that he was determined to prove true anyway.
Slowly, they limped together to the door, Kate bearing most of his weight. Fortunately the door was ajar, and she kicked it open.
Chapter 39
As Fantion had promised, Rynar was still alive. He was hunched over the table, in the same place she had seen him last, and for the moment he appeared to be alone. Not that he was an escape risk, bound hand foot as he was. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him. When he heard her enter, he lifted his head slowly, squinting, and then frowned. From the patterns embossed in his cheek, it appeared that he had tried to sleep by resting his head against the ropes on his wrists, lacking anything better to do to pass the time.
“So Bedoric actually fell for it, did he?” he spat, seeing the fhaoli stumble beside her. “Kate, you could have led the Senvosra back here without that boy. After everything they did—why would you help them now?”
Clinging to Nyvas, lest he collapse on the ground, she half-dragged him to a bench, and as she helped him lay down, she snapped at Rynar. “If you want to know the truth, they never did a thing to me, except when I asked them to do so to fool the Vosira.” Overwhelmed by the stress of the day, she wasn’t in the mood to put up with anything more. “Right now I think maybe you were better off with the gag on.”
Nyvas begged her to pull him to a sitting position, but still slumped against her. Remarkably now he began to laugh lightly despite his pain. “Aldrish,” he announced, in a very weak voice, “you don’t know how close we all came to dying tonight. If not for her
bravery, Kate and I would be fueling a bonfire now, and then you would have had the exquisite experience of having your innards carved out by Fantion himself.” After this speech, rather long for him in his frail condition, he again succumbed to his coughing, and she rubbed his back.
“Kate!” Rynar shouted, as if he wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard a word the boy said, despite clearly being affected by the idea of being disemboweled. “Aren’t you going to cut my ropes, so we can get out of here?”
Disregarding him momentarily, she helped Nyvas lay back on the bench. Then she stood up to face the Aldrish. “No.” As he stared her in disbelief, she added, “Don’t you realize that I blame you for everything that’s happened to him?” she asked, pointing to Nyvas, who again had drifted into unconsciousness.
“Kate, don’t be ridiculous. As I told you a dozen times, that was the Vosira’s doing, not mine. Now come here, and cut me free!”
She didn’t move. “You know as well as I do that you could have convinced the Vosira to spare him, and helped clear Arric’s name as well. Instead, it was your idea to keep them both locked up.”
“That’s all nonsense.”
“Is it?” She walked to within a handspan of his shoulder and straddled the bench beside him. “Do you swear it to your gods, then? Do you swear that the Vosira came up with everything involving Nyvas and Arric by himself?”
“Ah, Kate, I shall not swear anything here.” He nodded once to Nyvas. “It matters little anyway. He will be dead before morning.”
“No, he won’t.” Her words were firm.
“He will. His chest is filling with blood. You can hear it in his breathing.”
“No.” She grabbed his chin in her hand. “I am tired of your lies. Look at me and swear that you will work to heal him, here and now, or I will let my friends rip you apart.”