"Drive your punisher against him!" the princess commanded, hissing through her teeth. "Make him scream. Make him worship the Regime."
And Tilla obeyed.
And he screamed.
But he did not obey.
"Just speak the words, Rune," Tilla whispered. She touched his cheek. "Just hail the red spiral. And you will join me. And this will end."
He raised his head, spat out blood, and stared at her.
Silent.
Tilla turned toward her commander. "He will not join us. I've hurt him more than anyone's hurt another. This is hopeless."
She prayed that Shari would listen. She prayed that Shari would abandon this quest of pain.
Just... just let Rune be our prisoner! she wanted to cry out. Let him stay in this cell, but make his pain end.
Yet Shari only smiled and licked her lips. "His pain is only beginning," she said. "The punisher is but a caress compared to what I still plan. It's time, Tilla. It's time to make him truly suffer. Draw your dagger."
Tilla's eyes burned, but she tightened her lips, refusing to show emotion. Her insides trembled.
She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to hurt him. She wanted this to end—to flee this tower, this blood, this pain. Yet if she ran, Shari would never stop hurting Rune. If she ran, they would hunt her down, and she would hang here too.
"Rune," she whispered. She held his cheeks, moved her face close, and pleaded with him. "Please, Rune. Do as I say."
Hands grabbed her shoulders. Shari tugged her back.
"Lanse!" she said. "Do you disobey me? Draw your dagger. Do it now!"
The princess growled, face red and wild, the face of a demon. If Shari lunged at her, sank her teeth into her flesh, and feasted like a wolf, Tilla would not be surprised.
"I'm sorry, Rune," she whispered. "I must do this."
She coiled her trembling fingers around her dagger's hilt. Her breath shook as she drew the blade. The dagger felt so heavy in her palm. It caught the torchlight and gleamed red as if already bloodied.
"Now..." Shari tapped her fingers against her hip. "This boy tore off my wing. He crippled me. He made me only half a dragon. I think... it's time to repay him in kind. What do you think, Lanse?"
Tilla swallowed.
Please don't make me do this, she prayed. Please, stars, please, old gods or new. Her heart raced. Sweat drenched her. Her chest tightened and she thought she would collapse.
"I... Commander, what do you plan?"
Shari laughed, approached Rune, and stroked the manacles binding his left arm.
"We don't need him chained by two arms. I do believe he can hang from one just as well." She licked her lips. "A hand for a wing; seems fitting, does it not?"
Tilla felt the blood leave her face. "I can't," she whispered.
"You will!" Shari said. "Do the deed. Now. Cut him. He took my wing; you will take his hand."
Rune began to pant. He looked up, bleeding and beaten, and his chest shook, and finally fear seemed to fill him.
"Tilla," he said and pulled his chains. "Tilla, please. Don't. You can end this. You can—"
"Cut him!" Shari screamed. Her voice echoed in the chamber. "Cut him, and we will force him to eat his own hand, and he will scream, and he will worship us. Hurt him!"
Tilla stood trembling. She wept. Her dagger wavered.
"Please, I cannot... I can't do this..."
"You must cut him! You were his love. You were his friend. You must do this deed." Shari laughed maniacally. "Watch, boy. Watch! The woman you loved, the woman you wanted to bed—she will cripple you. Lanse Tilla, cut him! Cut him or you will join him in chains."
Tilla shook. No. No! She couldn't do this. What could she do? She took a step closer to Rune. He tugged mightily on the chains, struggling, shouting at her.
"Please, Rune," she whispered, tears on her lips. "Please..."
She raised the dagger. He trembled. She positioned the blade, ready to cut through the joints of his bones.
"Do it!" Shari screamed.
"Rune, please," Tilla whispered.
He stared at her.
The room seemed to freeze.
All sound died, and even the torches seemed to fall silent.
He lowered his head, and his chest shook, and he nodded.
"I hail the red spiral," he whispered.
Tilla let out a sob, trembled, and gasped for breath. She pulled her dagger back. It was over. Thank the stars, it was over. She could be together with Rune now—like they used to be. They could leave this place. They could worship Frey together. It was over.
"Speak it louder, Rune," she said, smiled tremulously, and touched his cheek. "Worship the red spiral with all the strength in you."
He shook, his teeth ground together, and he let out a howl, a howl louder than any of his screams of pain.
"I hail the red spiral!"
He swung on his chains, heaving and shaking.
He raised his eyes and looked at her... and she expected to see relief in them. She expected to see resignation or pain but also relief... relief that the game was over. That he had lost and the agony would end.
But instead... instead she saw horror.
It was not only horror for himself. She could see that. His eyes were haunted for her.
She saw her reflection in them—a young woman, her face so pale, her heart withered. She looked upon herself as she was. She looked upon herself in his memory. She saw both her lives, past and present. A ropemaker's daughter and a torturer.
And she understood.
He's given up on me, she thought. That is the horror in his eyes. He thought that by taking my pain, he could save me. And now he realized I'm lost to him forever.
She knew then that even now, even if Shari freed him, even if he lived with her in her home, she was lost to him. They would never be together as they were.
The Tilla he loved died. I killed her.
Shari nodded.
"Good...," the princess said, savoring the word. "Good, very good. He's finally broken. Sooner than I'd have liked, but I'm pleased."
Tilla lowered her head, trembling, not knowing if she was relieved or terrified. "I'll take him to my chamber," she said softly. "I'll find him armor. Tomorrow he can join the Legions and serve the emperor."
Shari raised her eyebrow. "Oh... my dear lanse. I believe you've misunderstood. He's not yet paid his price. Raise your dagger! I will still have you sever his hand."
Tilla gasped. She could barely see, and she heard Rune gasp too. She raised her head, eyes wide, and stared at Shari.
"But... Commander! He's broken. He hailed the spiral. He—"
"He is not broken," Shari said, smiling thinly. "He's still in one piece, isn't he? My dear child, you are young and innocent. Relesar is lying. He hailed the red spiral only to save his hand. His words reek of dishonestly." Shari snickered. "But I see through his lies. You will break him. Fully. You will sever his hand. And then you will shatter his bones. And then you will cut off his manhood and burn it. You will have him crawl in the dust, no longer a man, no longer human, but a creature, a sniveling maggot that you created with your blade and hammer. But you'll leave his tongue so that he can still scream and worship the spiral. It will be all he can do. And then... then he will be fully broken. Then I will be avenged. Then, Lanse Tilla Siren, you'll have proven yourself worthy." Her voice rose to a shout. "Now obey me and bring me his hand!"
Tilla stared at her princess, barely able to breathe.
She's mad, she realized. She's gone mad entirely. Tilla's eyes burned. How... how can I do this? How can I worship her? Even Frey did not want this! Even Frey sees reason, not just mad vengeance.
"Your father—" she began.
"My father isn't here! I am your commander. It is I you must obey. Obey me! His hand!"
"Tilla!" Rune cried, voice choked. "Tilla, please, don't listen to her—"
"Cut h
im!"
Tilla shook. What could she do? Stars, what could she do? For so long, she had blamed Rune for this. For so long, she had thought that if Rune only worshiped the spiral, this would end. But it wasn't ending. The pain would only grow, and her soul would only darken, and Rune would only wither into a beast.
"This is not the way, Commander," she whispered. "The red spiral is about the glory of Requiem. If Rune can join us, he—"
"He will join us as a freak, as a creature for a cage! Cut him! Maim him!" Shari screamed, saliva spraying from her mouth. Sweat soaked her hair. She seemed not a human, not a dragon, but a demon. "Cut him now, or I will cut him, and I will cut you, and I will sew your twisted bodies together, forming you into conjoined, diseased twins for my court. Cut him! Cut him or you will suffer!"
Tilla turned back toward Rune.
She shook so madly she could barely grip her dagger.
She took a step toward him.
Rune stared at her, eyes wide and damp, and shook his head. His lips trembled.
"Tilla, no," he whispered, voice cracking. "Please. Tilla..."
She took a shuddering breath.
She placed her dagger against his wrist, and he closed his eyes and whispered prayers.
She saw it again—the sea at home. She wove ropes with her father. She sat in the Old Wheel, drinking ale with Rune, petting his dog, feeling warm and safe. She walked along the beach, barefoot, and he gave her a seashell necklace, and she kissed him. And he bled. And her home burned. And so much blood covered her hands.
I'm scared too, he had said to her that day two years ago, standing with her on the beach in the night, the night before the Legions had drafted her. But it will be fine. I promise you, Tilla. Everything will be fine.
"You promised," she whispered, tears on her lips, and she kissed him again, a last kiss like their first one, a kiss that tasted of her tears and his blood.
She nodded.
"I have to do this," she whispered... and spun around.
She thrust her dagger with a scream.
The blade crashed into Shari's chest, driving between her ribs and into her heart.
Shari's eyes widened. She stared, mouth wide, and for a moment the chamber froze. Nobody breathed.
"When we first met," Tilla whispered, "you told me that you'd keep an eye on me. You should have kept closer watch."
Snarling, Tilla twisted her blade.
Blood spread across Shari's tunic. She stared, silent, and her lips peeled back, and her eyes blazed, and her hands rose... and she crashed to her knees.
Tilla yanked her blade back. Shari Cadigus, heir to Requiem, crashed facedown onto the floor. Her blood pooled.
Tilla spun back toward Rune. He hung from his chains, frail and beaten, struggling for every breath. Tilla's fingers shook so madly she could barely grab her keys.
"We have to flee," she whispered. She touched his cheek and tears stung her eyes. "It's over now, Rune, but we must flee. Fast. We must run."
Her heart pounded. Stars, if they were caught...
She unlocked his manacles, freeing his arms from the chains. For so long, only the chains had held him standing, not his own feet. Now he wavered and nearly fell. She grabbed him. She held him up. He leaned against her, legs rubbery; she supported all his weight.
"I'll have to tie your wrists," she said. "There are guards downstairs. They'll think I'm moving you to another cell."
He nodded weakly. She took a rope from a table. She tied his wrists, making sure the knot was weak.
"Now let's go," she whispered. "Step by step. I'm with you."
She slung his arms across her shoulders. She began to walk. One step. Another. Holding him up. He moaned and his feet all but dragged across the floor. He was too hurt, too famished, near death perhaps.
"We have to keep moving," she said.
He limped along, his weight against her, and she heard the smile in his voice.
"I knew you were still there, Tilla. I knew it."
They reached the chamber door. Tilla yanked it open, revealing the staircase that spiraled down the tower. She took the first step, holding Rune tight. He wavered and Tilla nearly fell. She grabbed the wall for support.
"I know you're hurt, but we'll have to do this quickly," Tilla said.
With every step, her heart raced faster, and sweat trickled down her spine. She tried to calm herself. Shari had died silently; no guards would know Tilla had slain her. She just had to keep descending, step by step. She just had to pass the guards outside; they had seen her move Rune through the Citadel before, and they would let her pass.
And then... what then?
She kept climbing down, Rune's arms around her.
And then they would have to leave the city. To flee into the wilderness. They would be hunted. Frey would never rest from hunting them—the heir of Aeternum and the woman who slew his daughter.
"We'll find some faraway place," she said, and her voice shook. "Like you wanted, Rune. We'll fly as far as we can. We'll keep flying—to the very end of the world. We will not let them catch us."
She knew what the wilderness held. Soldiers. Forts. Perhaps starvation and thirst. It was likely they would fly to their deaths. Yet they would die together, holding each other, Tilla Roper and Rune Brewer. It would not be a bad way to die. It would be infinitely better than the death Frey would give them.
After what seemed like hours, they reached the bottom of the tower.
Tilla froze and steeled herself. She forced a deep breath. Behind those doors, two guards awaited, armored and armed with halberds.
They will know, she thought. They will see Shari's blood on my hands. They will know and raise the alarm, and a thousand more soldiers will swoop upon me.
"Be strong, Rune," she whispered. "You'll have to walk now on your own. I'll pretend to manhandle you. Act like my prisoner; there are guards outside."
He nodded.
With another deep breath, she opened the door.
They stepped out into the courtyard.
The two guards stood there, covered in black steel. They slammed their gauntlets against their chests.
"Hail the red spiral!"
Tilla shoved Rune forward. He stumbled and all but fell, but she grabbed his arms and manhandled him forward. She glared at the guards as she passed by.
"Stand straight, men!" she barked. "You're slouching again. Commander Shari will descend soon, and if she sees you hunched over, she will flay your hides."
They straightened like blades, chins raised.
"Yes, Commander!" they said.
Tilla inspected them, eyes narrowed. Despite the horror pounding through her, she still outranked these men. She nodded and kept walking, shoving Rune before her. He limped and stumbled, his blood dripping.
"Move, worm!" she shouted at him.
The courtyard seemed miles long. Walls and towers rose around her; screams rose with them. She kept walking, shoving Rune forward. Step by step. Past more cells. Past more towers. Past more guards who marched, armor clanking, whips in hands.
"Move!" she screamed at Rune as five guards marched by. "Move, maggot, or I swear, I will break every segment in your spine. Move, scum!"
She kept shoving him, and the guards marched by.
Oh stars, they will find Shari soon. They will shout. They will descend upon us.
She walked. Step by step. Drop by drop of blood.
It seemed hours before she reached the Citadel's gates. More guards stood here, their black helms spiked, their hands clutching swords.
"I'm taking this one to Tarath Imperium," she told them and forced herself to snicker. "The emperor wants to see his blood. I will return him tonight."
She sucked in her breath. The guards stared at her silently. Tilla nearly fainted and her heart pounded. Surely they sensed the ruse. Surely they would capture her, capture Rune again, torture them both, and—
"Yes, Lanse," the chi
ef guard finally said. He drew a scroll from his belt—it held the names of all prisoners who came and went—and made a marking. "Hail the red spiral!"
She shakily returned the salute.
The guards opened the gates... and Tilla and Rune stepped out into the city streets.
Snow fell around them. The houses rose alongside. The city seemed strangely beautiful to her—the snowy roofs, the trees glimmering with icicles, the small sun behind the clouds... On any other day, she would marvel at this beauty.
She turned toward Rune. He stood looking at the snow too. He stood on his own now, frail and burnt, but he inhaled deeply. He smiled and tugged his bindings, freeing his bloodied wrists.
"I'll carry you in my claws now," Tilla said. "But once we're outside the city, we'll fly together. Side by side. Like we used to."
She shifted into a dragon. She beat her wings, scattering snow off the cobblestones, and rose several feet into the air. She reached down and scooped Rune up into her claws.
She flew.
The city spread beneath them, countless houses and streets, statues and forts, ponds and parks, a million souls who knew none of her pain. Tarath Imperium, palace of the emperor, rose in its center, a thousand feet tall, the heart of the empire. Once Tilla had dreamed of serving in that palace. Once she had stood below it, shouting for the spiral, worshiping the tower's might.
Today she flew away.
She flew south.
She flew across Nova Vita, over the city walls, and above a frosted forest.
She flew into the wilderness, Rune in her grip, and her heart shook and she could barely breathe.
VALIEN
Sunset gilded the land when he beheld the shores of Requiem.
He had been flying all day. His ruined throat wheezed, his lungs burned, and his wings shot agony through him with every stroke. The scars on his body blazed as if freshly cut. He was too old, too wounded, too haunted for these long flights and so many battles, and yet he flew on.
His army flew around him, a thousand dragons. Each beast bore several riders, a mix of Tiran arquebusers and Vir Requis in human forms. They had been flying for three days over the sea. Every few hours, they swapped—one Vir Requis rider would leap from the saddle, shift into a dragon, and take the load, allowing the exhausted flier to resume human form and ride. They slept in the saddle. They kept flying northwest. Three days and three nights of water.
A Memory of Fire (The Dragon War, Book 3) Page 11