by Meg Cowley
I have to salvage this. The stone cannot stay in Toroth’s hands. And she cannot damn me to death. Think! he urged himself. What can be done? He almost expected a knock on his door at any moment from the Kingsguard.
Forty-Three
Harper couldn’t separate the mixture of fear and relief at the sight of Dimitrius’s face looming out of the gloom. The small light from the corridor was blinding after her stint in total darkness.
Her body remained flooded with terror, yet she refused to show it to him. Folding her arms around her to stop them from shaking from fear and cold, she glared at him, her gaze unwavering. She saw his eyebrow raise in surprise, and he talked with the guard in a tongue she did not understand.
Dimitrius seemed unhappy with whatever the guard said, for with a final icy glare that sent a thrill of fear to the pit of her stomach, he left with a swish of his cloak that sent a sharp, sweet smell across her before the door slammed shut, leaving her in darkness.
It was not long before they came for her again, but to both her dismay and relief, Dimitrius was not with them. Two guards, their faces obscured by helms and beards, hauled her to her feet.
Their breath and sweat smelt almost as bad as the cell. She gagged as they dragged her down the corridor and into another room that was big enough to accommodate them all. It was dimly lit and cold – even colder still when her cloak was torn from where she had tied it around her neck after the clasp had been confiscated.
Harper’s terror rose another notch as she saw metal instruments hanging from one of the walls, a chair with straps affixed to it in the middle of the room.
No matter how much she struggled, it was barely any effort at all for them to drag her to the chair and strap her in. Tighter and tighter they bound the straps until spikes on the chair’s arms pierced her flesh. Struggling only made it worse, so she forced herself to remain still, though pain, fear, and exhaustion had her body shivering wildly. It took all her strength to hold herself immobile.
A man wearing a black cloak entered, his hood raised so she could not see his face but for the faintest glint of light reflected in his eyes. As he raised his hands, pain shot through her entire body. She cried out as the agony burned white hot, worse than when the wood elves had attacked her. Her struggles only caused the metal spikes upon the chair to dig deeper into her flesh, adding to her pain.
Harper’s eyes rolled into her head as unconsciousness threatened to take her, and she gladly reached for the darkness. Suddenly, the pain ceased. She rebounded back to waking with a rush of dull, fresh pain, but not as excruciating. Hot wetness soaked her feet. With a flush of humiliation, she realised she had wet herself.
“How did you steal the Heart of Dragons?” the black-cloaked figure asked.
“I didn’t,” she gasped, struggling to still herself once more to prevent the spikes from aggravating her wounds.
Pain crashed over her once more and she sank into unconsciousness.
A BUCKET OF ICE-COLD water drenched her. She woke, gasping in air and water, having no idea how long she had been unconscious. Pain wracked her as she spluttered and the spikes bit harder into her skin.
“Do you see where we are?” he remarked calmly, gesturing with a slim hand around them. “I have many means, physical and magical, to make you suffer. You can end it sooner if you just tell me. How did you steal the Heart of Dragons?”
“I swear, I did not steal it.”
“How did you steal it?” he shouted, drawing closer.
“I found it in the woods. I didn’t take it.”
“Which woods?” he yelled into her face.
She flinched away. “In Caledan, far from here.”
He drew back, blinking, before he shook his head and gritted teeth flashed beneath the hood. “Lies!”
He struck her across the face with a backhanded blow that sent her reeling, her vision dimming. When he raised his hands, a different kind of pain assaulted her. A pressing all across her body that compounded the pounding of her head and the heavy weakness of her limbs crushed and distorted her.
“Stop,” a cold voice commanded with quiet authority.
Through tears and the throbbing of one side of her face, she saw the cloaked figure rise up indignantly before melting into submission. “My lord.”
“I shall take over from here. Everyone out. Now.”
“I am here on the king’s orders, Lo—”
“Out. Now. Or would you like me to inform the king of your disobedience? Whose orders do you think have me in this foul pit?”
“At once, my lord,” the man murmured, gave a deep bow, and left.
The moment the door shut, Dimitrius rushed over and knelt before her, his gaze searching her face with a surprisingly caring intensity. “Are you okay?”
“W-What?” she stammered in confusion.
“Of course you’re not,” he said, running his gaze down her.
She flushed as his attention lingered on the pool at her feet. She hoped he could not smell the urine mixed in with so much water. Her teeth chattered as a wave of cold rushed through her once more, and she could not hold in the yelp of pain as the shivering jarred the spikes in her arm.
He swore in another tongue when he noticed her injuries and started to release her. His hands were surprisingly gentle, his fingers warm on her cold, clammy skin. In seconds, he had the restraints open and ran his palms down her arms.
She expected pain as he raised her arms from the chair, but a warm, soothing tingle ran down her limbs. She turned them this way and that. With a strange itching sensation, she watched, her mouth hanging open, as the torn flesh knitted itself back together without leaving even a scar. In a rippling wave, a warmth spread through her, banishing both cold and pain, and a good measure of exhaustion, from every inch of her body.
Harper stared at Dimitrius, mute.
“Better?” he asked levelly, with no hint of the coldness she had felt at his last visit.
“Yes, thank you,” she whispered.
“What have you told them?”
Them? Not us? “Um... Nothing. I mean, I found the stone. I didn’t steal it from the king. Please believe me.” She shifted in the chair, desperate to escape, but her legs were still tied to it.
“I believe you,” he said, much to her surprise. His hands lowered to her leg restraints, then halted, his fingers brushing against her ankles. “Did you mention anything of me?”
She paused, brows furrowed. “No. Why?”
“Good.” He untied her. “Can you stand?”
I’m not sure, she thought, but she would not admit it. She started to push herself up on shaky legs, but Dimitrius held up a hand.
“Not yet. I need you to play along. Can you do that? I promise, I will see you out of here alive.”
She stilled at his words and met his gaze. So I won’t leave here alive if I dont? Harper swallowed, nodding. “I can do that.”
A weary smile of relief formed on his face. “Do as I say, play along, pretend you are still in pain, pretend that you fear me more than you fear them, and I shall make our escape quick.”
Harper nodded, consumed by a strange blend of fear and confusion that left her nauseous. For once, she was glad of an empty stomach.
With a strange twist of his hand, she found herself hovering in the air, bound by invisible bonds. Her cloak wrapped around her, like a coccoon, tighter and tighter until she could not see an inch of her body. She squeaked, but Dimitrius turned and winked at her.
“Play along,” he whispered. “Hang your head a little more... Yes, like that, so your hair falls over your face. Do not say a word, but a theatrical moan would be appreciated now and again.”
She did as he asked, thoroughly baffled. Relief leapt in her, but she dared not believe she was free. Dimitrius had his own agenda. She just did not know what it was, and she did not know whether to be more scared of that or the torture she had just escaped. Yet it was hard, whatever his plans, not to feel grateful.
Dimitr
ius opened the door and strode out. Outside her control, Harper glided after him, bobbing through the air with a smooth motion that still made her stomach lurch.
His unfamiliar language flew off his tongue with the same strange lilt Aedon spoke with. She shoved him from her thoughts. It was too painful to think of her mistake now when she was so vulnerable, and when their misgivings had proved so right.
The discussion became heated between the guards, the cloaked elf, and Dimitrius, but with a final threat, which was clear from his tone even across tongues, the others retreated into the prison and left the way clear.
He strode with purpose as Harper followed, pulled along by whatever magics he had cast upon her. He took her through a labyrinth of tunnels until she was even more disorientated. Finally, he slowed and stopped. She bobbed in the air behind him.
“I’m going to set you down now. Are you sure you can stand?”
She nodded. He offered her her cloak – she had not even seen him take it, but she gratefully snatched it from him.
His magic slowly released her, the pressure diminishing, lowering her until her shaky legs stood upon the rough stone. The cold seeped into her skin, so she wrapped the cloak around herself more tightly, wishing for her boots. At an involuntary wobble, Dimitrius’s hand closed around her upper arm to steady her.
“Close your eyes.”
She looked up at him, a question on her face.
He smiled. “Trust me. Close your eyes.”
She was not sure whether she could trust him, but there was little other option. She closed her eyes. His hand on her arm was the only steadying touch as a strange tugging sensation pulled her this way and that.
Light flared, warmth suddenly surrounding her. She opened her eyes and gasped. She was somewhere entirely different.
It was more luxury than Harper had ever seen. She drank it in, mouth open. Sumptuous rugs and furs – she dug her toes into the soft, thick pelt she found herself standing upon – covered almost every inch of polished wood or stone floors. Tall windows were covered with drapes, though it was dark outside. She fleetingly wondered what time it was and how many days had passed.
Fine furnishings filled the large space, and metal chandeliers and lamps burned with none of the soot and stench of the tavern’s tallow candles, but more of a floral scent that left her refreshed and dizzy with their sweetness.
Harper started as Dimitrius’s hand left her arm.
“You are safe for now. These are my quarters. We will not be disturbed here. I shall make sure of it. Would you care to wash?” He gestured to a separate room, the intricately carved redwood door ajar.
She did not answer as she huddled into her cloak, feeling suddenly aware of how painfully out of place she was...and just how dirty.
Dimitrius’s lips twitched, trying to hide a smile. “I offer you a chance to regain some of your dignity. Please, take me up on the offer. You could use a wash.”
Harper’s ears burned red and she ducked her head. It would be nice to wash, but she bridled at his insult. She considered refusing, just to spite him.
“If you want to punish me, too, feel free not to bathe,” he said airily, as if he had seen the flash of stubbornness pass across her face. “But the offer is there.” He waved at the open door. It was too tempting.
“Thank you,” she mumbled and picked her way across the fine woven rugs to the room, seeing a wide, deep bowl big enough to sit in sunk into the floor. She glanced at it, cocking her head. “Is... Is there a bucket of water anywhere? I-I don’t mind if it’s cold.” She had washed with far worse.
Dimitrius guffawed. “Nonsense.” He strode in and turned a metal protrusion above the basin. To Harper’s surprise, water gushed out, billowing steam. Another turn of another metal knob, and cold water flooded out. Both streams swirled together in the huge space.
He laughed at her evident surprise. “So you do not have running water in your corner of Caledan?”
She shook her head.
“Don’t think I’m laughing at you. It must be hard to be poor. But come.” He gestured to the water. “Enjoy.” His tone was genuine, not a joke at her expense. She forced her hackles down. He was powerful and an ally...for now.
I have to find out what he wants. He knows that I don’t have the stone anymore.
Soon, the basin was almost full of warm water. Dimitrius had fetched her a linen sheet to dry herself, a soft scrub to wash with, and a set of fresh clothes to change into – though she noted they were men’s and would not fit her.
“I’ll leave you to your bath,” he said and backed away. She eyed him suspiciously, brows furrowed. “There’s a lock on the door. I won’t come in. Believe me, I’m not interested,” he said flatly. She did not answer. “If you’re worried I’m going to harm you, I would have done it already. Bathe, then we can eat. Hurry up. I’m famished.”
Harper scurried to bolt the door behind him, though the mechanism seemed frail against his power. It was hard not to gag as she peeled the wet, stinking clothes from her body and piled them upon the stone floor, wishing she could burn them. For the first time, she had enough light to examine herself. It was an appalling sight, and not one she enjoyed. Between bruises and dirt, there was barely a clear inch of skin.
She hurried to the bath and sank into it, moaning with relief at the warmth that flooded over her. Soon, the clear water was brown, but her skin was clean and pale again, though mottled with a variety of bruises, most of which she could not recall receiving.
The scrub smelled like him. Some kind of sweet, sharp fruit she had not encountered before. It was pleasant, though it seemed strange to attach such a thought to anything associated with him, considering how much she had hated him only hours before.
Harper frowned. Did she still hate him? She had no reason not to, but he had saved her from torture...or worse. If she had learned nothing else from her time with Aedon and his companions, she had learned that not all was as it seemed and first impressions often did not stand.
Taking an extra few moments to dry herself, she breathed deeply, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on her bare skin, before donning the clothes. She could not help laughing. They were far too large. The shoulders too broad, causing the sleeves to cover her hands, and the trousers both too wide for her slim waist and too long for her legs. She rolled up the sleeves and trousers with a sigh.
“Hello?” she called through the bathroom door.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t know how to make the water go away.”
Harper heard his fingers snap, gasping as the filthy water vanished before her eyes. She swallowed. Both an amazing feat and a reminder of the power, and danger, Dimitrius bore.
He’s been kind to me. Even though I’m clean and about to be fed, that doesn’t mean I ought to trust him, she reminded herself. She had learned that lesson too, the hard way, with Aedon and his companions. The knife in her gut twisted as she thought how they had betrayed her...and, in a way, she them. She steeled her resolve, raised her chin, and unbolted the door.
“Well, don’t you look a charm,” Dimitrius laughed. “Come, sit. I waited for you.”
She joined him at the table, lowering her body onto a cushioned chair far softer than any stool she had ever sat on. Before her – between them, for she had sat as far away as possible – lay a veritable feast. Cold, cooked meats, cheeses, green leaves, breads, and other assorted foods she had never seen before were piled high on fine crockery.
“You can eat it, you know,” said Dimitrius, leaning over the table to scoop food onto his plate. “It won’t poison you.”
Harper chose a few things, but he tutted. “For goodness sake, you’re going to starve. Eat more, please.” He gestured at the plates.
She added more to her plate, then started to consume it, savouring every bite of the fine, fresh new foods. Spiced cheeses, breads made with honey and herbs, cured and smoked meats cut wafer thin. It was more delicious than anything she had ever tasted, making her t
ongue burst with the intense flavours.
She could not help herself. After so long without eating properly, Harper ate and ate and ate until she could eat no more, then sat back in her chair with a groan.
“Enjoyable?”
“The nicest meal I’ve ever had,” she said with a smile, before realising she had lowered her guard. She wiped it from her face. His own smile faded with it.
“To business then,” he said with a brittle tone that made shivers crawl up her spine and alighted the fear curled in her stomach once more. “If you do exactly as I say, Harper, you might make it out alive.”
Forty-Four
Ragnar sat in the corner of the dingy inn, puffing on his pipe, nursing his flagon of ale. He slumped in the seat, eyes unfocused and dazed, as though he were already filled with drink, but his mind followed every conversation within reach. That afternoon, he had gone from inn to inn, soaking up the gossip that ran rampant and unchecked away from the ears of the city guard.
It was just his luck to be the most inconspicuous of them all. Brand, the Aerian, would stick out, as would Erika with her strange, foreign appearance. Then there was Aedon and his well-known reputation. To the humans and elves of Tournai, one dwarf was much like another. Ragnar played to it as much as he could with a generic cloak and none of his usual beard embellishments or hints to his identity.
Wrapped in his dark cloak, as anonymous as the rest of them, he listened for any mention of Harper. He did not hear her name, but the theft of a secret, most magical treasure and the ensuing capture of the thief could be no coincidence.
It’s got to be her, he thought, his heart sinking the more he heard. It is her. We’re too late.
It was impossible to walk as though he were drunk, bumbling and stumbling from the city to return to the others. He longed to run, but it would be too suspicious, so he endured the laughs and jeers of the guards as they taunted him, slamming the gate shut so quickly behind him it stung his backside, ambling into the dark countryside away from the city. Only when he was away from the lights of the towering walls did he break into a run, savouring deep breaths of the pure air. Time was of the essence.