by A R Maloney
I watched as Naofa took my spot, hefting the weight of the Lucenian over her shoulder. She and Cole turned to enter the building which housed the dungeon, dragging the prisoner along.
“I’ll see you soon.” I called out, taunting the Lucenian magus. “I can’t wait to show you what I’ve got planned.”
They dragged him through the doorway and into the imposing building. I gave a wave to the crowd, then turned towards my company hall. I lengthened my strides, nearly jogging back to my room.
With the door closed and locked behind me, I gently removed Skye’s precious wings from my back and laid them on my bed. Piece by piece my armor hit the flagstone floor. Loud clangs sang out as each piece fell to the ground. When I was finally down to just my leather pants and tunic I sat on the edge of my bed. My throat felt tight and I fought to swallow the hard knot which had been building in my throat. I finally let my head and shoulders hang. For several minutes I just sat in stillness… as I worked to control the mix of rage, sadness, and powerlessness that threatened to overwhelm me.
I took my time removing the bindings and rolling the course cloth away from the ivory wings. I lifted one gently in my hands, caressing the length of the wing. It felt so light in my arms, nearly weightless. The lump had returned, this time deep in the pit of my gut, and a sour taste filled my mouth. I lifted the wing to my nose, inhaling deeply. Beneath the smell of blood and dirt, her scent still lingered strong.
I was angry. This was not right… not right at all. Skye was good. She was the purest soul I’d ever had the opportunity to meet… and now she was gone. Ripped away by her own people! The lump in my throat had worked its way to the one in my gut, where together they began to mix. It turned into a burning ball of rage and was trying to force its way back out.
I stood, placing the wing down with its twin again and crossed my room. I pulled a glass and a bottle of whiskey from a shelf and poured a dram, tossing it back immediately. The amber liquid burned its way down my throat. When it met the spot where the anger, hurt, and rage was threatening to rise up, I swear I could feel it mixing together, offering me blessed numbness. I needed this.
Glancing up, I pulled a second glass and set it on my table. I filled it halfway. This one was for Skye. Perhaps her company didn’t know what’s become of her yet. Perhaps no one had sent her spirit off.
I looked over towards her wings again, remembering the last time we had been together. Her arms had wrapped around me as she sat on my lap. Her hair had smelled like everything good as she gently laid her head upon my shoulder. Her alabaster wings had shone with silver and blue highlights under the moonlight, enveloping us together like a cocoon. Gods… why her? She had known who would be coming for her. She knew she would be fighting Droghel come the next day. Yet she didn’t want to spend her last night with me in fear. She had insisted we focus on life, not death.
We had spent that night whispering of our dreams for the future of Eluna. Dreams that I had hoped would include a chance to claim her as mine. Damn.
I held a wooden match in my hand and stared at it while I let my mind wander. I used the tabletop as a striker. The match burned at my thumb as I let the flame lick at my fingers for a moment before tipping it into the cup, catching the liquor on fire. Damn. I’ve done this for many of my own fallen sentinels in the past. This one sucked particularly bad.
I poured myself another glass and lifted it high into the air, thinking to myself that there should be others here… but who? Besides Mera, none knew of our truth. Still, this must be done. My voice was low. I felt the sting of emotions hit my sinuses as I forced myself to speak the words. “I’m here to see off one who was not my enemy. I drink to the life of Skye, a child of both Lucenia and Ustenia. One who was truly the best of both nations. Never have I met a better sentinel nor a better woman. Her bravery and courage were unparalleled, and she died fighting, trying to bring the truths of this world to light. She will be missed, but she… will come again!”
The room was eerily quiet. Never before had I drunk to the memory of anyone alone. I prayed to the gods that this would be true, that she would indeed return. But so long as her wings remained on this earth, I knew I was holding back her return. Please…. I looked at her wings. I needed to release her so she may come again… but could not bring myself to do this. At least not until I have dealt with the prisoner. Soon. It was a promise to me as much as to the gods.
I dreaded bringing word to the Kauri Nabaru. He had such high hopes for her—for us. It scares me to admit to myself that I had hopes for us as well. What if we could have found a way to unite our world again. What if we had been successful? Could we ever see a time where Ustenians and Lucenians could sit together in peace, could love each other? I’d never loved anyone but myself. Not before Skye… was this? Was this love that I had felt? I had killed many a Lucenian, even a few Ustenian when the need arose. How else was it that this one affected me so much?
I poured myself another drink and tossed it back. I was thinking too much. This, the thinking, needed to stop. I filled my glass two more times before just going for the bottle. I sat down on the bed again, leaning against the wall. The cool grey stone felt soothing across my back. My left hand held the bottle, the right ran over her wings… and I caught her scent again.
I finally lay down on the bed, setting the bottle on the stone floor. I pulled the downy wings into my embrace. I closed my eyes and buried my nose into the wings once more. They smelled of everything good, and my breath hitched.
It had never been in my nature to cry openly. I had seen men do that before and there was no shame in it, it’s just something I had never been able to do. But there was this sting deep in my sinuses and my vision began to blur. The whiskey must’ve been kicking in.
I sighed into Skye’s broken wings and pulled them closer. Dried blood was splattered over the edges of several feathers. My long-clawed fingers smoothed over them gently. The blood didn’t bother me… the absence of Skye? Well, that did bother me.
A knock on my door helped me through my next move. I stood, taking a moment to regain my composure and opened the door. One of my officers waited patiently.
“My General,” Kumar looked at me, and then to the wings... and the near-empty bottle on the floor. “I am sorry. Although I don’t understand your connection to the… woman, know that not only am I yours to lead, I am your friend. Lance, you can come to me with anything and you will never be left alone.”
Kumar entered my room without invitation and walked across to the shelf, pulling down a glass. He reached for the bottle on the floor and poured what was left into the glass, filling it with whiskey for himself. He looked at the wings for several seconds, then at me, and then held the glass high. “She must really have been one of a kind to have gained your respect and your trust. She will come again.” He threw back the liquor and swallowed, placing his glass upside down next to the one I had lit for Skye. Her glass had long since burned out.
It’s rare that I’d ever been caught at a loss for words, “Thank you, my friend. Nobody should be sent off alone. This will not be forgotten.” I squeezed his shoulder and moved to wrap her precious wings up once more. “It’s time to finish this.”
Chapter 8 - Retribution
~Lancer~
TOGETHER WE LEFT OUR company hall. We made our way through the busy streets of the fortress to the dungeon where our prisoner was being held. “Have you gotten anything from him yet?”
Kumar shook his head. “We haven’t removed the stitches yet, but he will break, of this I have no doubt.” A wicked glean sparkled in his eyes. “They always break.”
I nodded in assent. He held the door for me, and we strode down the long stone hallway side-by-side.
Two soldiers greeted us as we approached. “General.”
“How is the prisoner?” I directed my question to one as he opened the door for us.
“Not comfortable in the least.” The other one chuckled and nodded in agreement as me and Kumar
passed through the door.
I gave a nod to Naofa and Cole as we entered the room. I walked to a long, heavy wooden table which sat against the wall across from the chained Lucenian. With gentle reverence I laid the wings upon the table and removed the bindings. Once they were in place I turned to the prisoner. Speaking in the old tongue I directed him, “Nod if you understand me.”
He glared at me with a look of contempt. I’m sure he would have spat if he’d been capable.
I pulled a small dagger from my hip, running the flat of the blade over the palm of his hand on his outstretched wrist. “Unlike your death squad, we have all the time in the world here. I will admit, I don’t care to spill more blood than is necessary today. However, my friends here,” I pointed to Kumar and Cole, “well, they are happy to drag this out. They will gladly take as long as you need.” I slowly dragged the flat of the blade up his arm, over his shoulder, and across his neck. I leaned in and whispered, “Tell me you understand.”
He still remained quiet, I called Naofa over. “Are you ready, sister?” She was bloodthirsty, her eyes glowed bright red with excitement at the prospect of exacting revenge upon someone so connected with Droghel.
“Absolutely.” The sound was gravelly and taut.
“Where would you like to start… healer?” The prisoner’s eyes widened as he realized what would be happening. I watched as he closed them tight, readying himself for the pain to come.
“Fingernails or toenails….” Naofa paced back and forth feigning the process of decision making. She turned away to the far wall and returned with a bag which contained several threaded needles. “I don’t feel like kneeling, General. These stone floors just… well they just take away the fun.”
“Fingers it is.” I gazed around the room counting us all, “One, two, three, four… and you make five. Prepare a party for five.” Looking at Cole, “Heads or tails?” I pulled a coin from my pocket and held it up.
“You know me, always tails.” He winked and blew a kiss to our captive. “I can’t wait for my turn.”
Kumar smiled silently from a chair near the door before adding, “It shouldn’t take too long before the stitches come out… then you will have your chance, brother.”
I looked into the eyes of my companions and then our enemy. “Let’s begin.” I flipped the coin. Heads. Looks like the right hand. I grasped the wrist with viselike pressure until we were able to forcefully extend the index finger. Naofa placed a block under the palm and between the fingers so he could not contract them again. Then she handed me the first needle.
“Something happened… something quite disturbing. Do you know what that was?” I looked at the captive who had his eyes closed, trying to remove himself from the pain which would most definitely be coming very soon. “You will respond eventually. Of that I have no doubt. You do understand. You are an old sentinel, and we won’t dirty our mouths with your new language.”
I ran the point of the needle up his hand until I found the exact spot I wanted to begin with. I grasped the length of the needle and began to push it slowly through the meaty point between the thumb and the index finger. The captive whined and tried to pull away, but the shackles held him in place.
“The thing about these needles, is Naofa keeps them so sharp. Much too sharp right now for what I really want.” I dragged the tip of the needle along his index finger back and forth, finally deciding on the next point of entry. This time the needle pierced the skin, running under the surface for about an inch before surfacing. Over the next several minutes I added another ten stitches, placing them randomly between those same two fingers. I gauged his reaction each time.
“This isn’t really going to work for what I want to do… let’s get rid of these.” I turned and moved to pick up my knife. The sigh that came from the prisoner was audible despite the stitched lips. He met my eyes as I turned to step back; the very same moment in which Naofa ripped the stitches from his hand.
“Hmm. You really need some sewing classes, General. I wouldn’t let you mend my socks.”
“You can’t expect me to be good at everything, cleric.” Blood was dripping from the captives hand onto the floor.
“You want me to heal it yet, Lance?”
“Yes, let’s keep him healed.” I looked at the captive. “You do understand me, right? This can go so much easier if you would just decide to work with us. You may even be able to keep your wings. Look, we are even giving you a chance.” I leaned in close to his ear. “A chance you didn’t give your sister-in-arms over there.” His eyes filled with disgust as I pointed to the wings on the table. “I know you had planned to keep her from returning. However, she has become quite useful for us. For you too. Really, more than you could ever imagine. I wonder how much of the truth you really know. Were you complicit in the murder of this innocent? She was an innocent indeed. Either way… those wings on the table over there—they will be returned to the skies. You will watch them as they burn.”
Kumar sat near the door, scraping at his nails with an arrow. “He’s not gonna talk yet. Give it another go.”
“Agreed.” Cole called out as he waited impatiently in a corner. He had a small flame rolling between his fingers. He looked at us and flicked the flame at the prisoner, it landed on his wrist, singeing the skin where the shackle was attached.
I took another needle and this time grasped his index finger tight. With slow execution I slid the tip under his nail, all the way to the cuticle and then beyond. The prisoners eyes watered and his hand spasmed in pain. He let out a high-pitched whine. Naofa handed me another needle. This one went under the nail of the same index finger. Moments later, a third, and then a fourth needle were driven, all under the same index finger. “We said five, did we not?”
“Five is the number of the day.” Naofa sounded chipper.
“Did the first one count?” I called out to the men behind us.
“What do you think, Kumar? That first one count?” Cole called out.
“If we’re being technical, yes, I guess it did. Is there room for another?” Kumar asked.
“We could always make room for another.” Naofa, ever the optimist.
I turned around to pour a glass of water, the whiskey was beginning to wear off, and this was thirsty work. I made a big show of slaking my thirst. “I would offer you some… remove those knots… free your lips. I’m sure you’re parched. You just need to work with us. I don’t enjoy the torture, it’s really not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problems doing what needs to be done, and I will always sleep well at night. But this… this can be quite endless.” I sighed dramatically for effect and watched him shudder in response.
The captive began to grind his teeth, preparing himself for another round. He wasn’t gonna budge anytime soon. “Hmmm. Perhaps we should try another approach. Cole?” I looked over my shoulder, and my magus stood to approach me. “Maybe you would like a shot.”
Cole gave a wicked grin. “I know just what he needs.” He reached over and gave the captive a pinch on the cheek. Then he slid the shackled man’s pants down to his ankles. The Lucenian tensed and tried to shuffle backwards but was stopped by the wall behind him as he saw Cole pick up the same bloody threaded needles. “There are so many places a man can stand to be injured, even to the point of deformity.” Cole stood, turning to address us. “But I have never met one man that wasn’t terrified at the thought of his manhood being mutilated.” The captive’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head violently from side to side. Cole grasped the man by his root and pushed the needle straight down the hole, blood began dripping and the man squealed behind his stitched lips, shaking his head and moaning in pain.
“What? Have your ears suddenly opened? Do you have our attention now?” I asked him. Tears sprang from his eyes and he gave a brief nod. “Are you willing to work with us?” The slight man hung his head and again gave a single nod. “Very well.” I placed a calming hand on Cole’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “Brother, bind his ma
gic. Sister, remove the needle and stop the bleeding.”
I heard my friend calling out the spell which would bind the captive from using magic. I drew my dagger again, bringing it to the Lucenian’s mouth, and carefully severed each knot one at a time.
“Remember our agreement. We will be having a discussion, you and me. So long as you continue to be helpful, our discussion will remain civil. We are not so different. Only in appearances. You should know as well as I how the Ustenians came to be. We were once the same people.” He would not meet my eyes. Finally, the last knot was severed, and his genitals had been healed. His pants had been pulled up to cover him once more. “Now let us begin with something easy, your name. Of course, you know that I am General Lancer, and this is my first team, Naofa, Cole, and Kumar. What should we call you?”
His voice was grainy and hoarse. “Cy… Cyrus.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, ashamed to have broken so easily.
“Thank you, Cyrus. We are not animals here. We can be quite reasonable. Would you like some water?” I pointed to the pitcher and glasses on a table in the center of the room. He nodded and Naofa pulled out two glasses, filled them both from the same pitcher and began drinking one. She then handed the next to me. I lifted the glass to Cyrus’ lips and let him take a few sips, pulling it away so he didn’t get sick. After a few seconds I allowed him a few more sips. He coughed a few times and cleared his throat.
“I will let you know now; we have already managed to piece together much of the story. However, we would like your version. I will ask questions and you will answer. Be aware now, if you tell me something which I know to be false, the torture will resume. Should you regain your magic and try to use it against us, the consequences will be severe.”
Cyrus nodded again.
“Say the name. Who did those wings belong to?” My voice was a low growl.