Prisoner

[maderr]

Chapter Ten

Iah woke up muffling a cry. It had become reflexive. He reached up to touch the bandages covering his face, and shuddered.

Would the nightmares ever stop? He didn’t know which was worse – the dreams of happier times, when he could see, or reliving the moment when his eyes had been ripped out.

He’d screamed and screamed. Most of the journey after that was nothing but a jumbled recollection of sounds and smells. Nothing had ever been so terrifying; not even his first battle, and after that he had not slept more than a handful of hours in a week.

The room was chilly; probably the fire had died to embers. Iah huddled back down under the blankets and wished he could go back to sleep.

Back home, he’d always gotten up and read by candlelight. Or gone for a walk. Occasionally Esta had the same problem and they would sneak down to the kitchen to raid it for sweets and, still in their night clothes, hole up in the library reading aloud to each other.

He buried his face in the pillow. What would he do now? Lay and torment himself with waking nightmares? Torture himself with memories? He would never see again. Why could his mind not accept that?

Something touched his shoulder, and Iah jumped.

“What’s wrong?” Sol asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Iah tensed, and shrugged the hand away as he sat up. This was not the time to be taken in by that summer-breeze voice. He’d just do or say something stupid. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Nightmares? Sol asked, ever patient. Only with Tawn had he ever seemed to lose his tireless calm.

Iah nodded, then hoped Sol couldn’t see it in the dark.

The hand touched his shoulder again. “They will fade with time.”

“I hope so.” The words slipped out before he could catch them.

Cold air bit his skin as Sol threw the covers back and slid out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Sol asked. “I’ve been meaning to show you around the palace. We’re awake, we may as well do it. It will also be a good opportunity for me to determine the best way for us to accidentally encounter von Adolwulf and Beraht. I have a few ideas, but it’s so hard to test their merits during the day…”

Iah laughed softly. “Does your mind ever stop working?”

“No,” Sol said with a sigh. “It’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

Somehow Iah doubted that. He’d heard the women as they’d traveled. And though the picture was not as clear as he would have liked, he remembered a handsome man. Not by Illussor standards, which favored a softer, more elegant appearance. But for a Salharan, Iah had thought he wasn’t bad. At least until the fighting had commenced.

Silver hair and unnatural gold eyes, made brighter by the gray Salharan uniform. A vaguely melancholy air, he remembered thinking before they’d been dragged into the fight.

Iah wondered what he would have done if he had encountered him in direct combat, and been struck by that voice like a summer breeze. Most likely he would be dead. There was no doubt in his mind that voice was a large part of Sol’s success and survival. “Why not? Though we will have a hard time explaining our midnight traipsing should we come across anyone else.”

Sol gave an amused snort. “I think not. The favored sport of winter is bedroom switching. Believe me, no one wants to admit to seeing anyone, because no one wishes to be seen.”

“I see,” Iah said, and laughed. “Then by all means let us go for a walk.” Though he still hoped they encountered no one. His Krian had come a long way since his first lessons, but he still would not fool a native unless he could convince them he was dimwitted. Which probably wouldn’t be hard.

He slid out of bed, shivering, and climbed quickly into the tunic and shirt he’d stripped off before going to bed. His boots were next, and he combed his hair, hoping it did not look too awful. Another thing he would never see again. Not that he was given to looking into mirrors frequently, but… Iah shoved the thoughts away, replacing them with what he was about to do. It was plenty distracting.

“Come,” Sol said softly, tucking Iah’s hand into his elbow. He led the way slowly, allowing Iah to count paces and indicating turns and other changes as they went.

His mind reeled with the new information, but Iah stowed it fiercely away. Should something go wrong, he would have to know his way as much as possible. He did not even want to dwell on what the worst could be.

They walked on, and the near-perfect silence of the castle was eerie. Even trapped in his room all day, Iah heard thousands of sounds and there were at least as many smells. Steel, blood, sweat, so many different foods. Snow and ice, fire and smoke.

But now they all seemed dulled, and he could hear hardly a thing at all. Perhaps it was not a good night for people to be about. His head jerked up as he caught a whisper of sound. “What was that?” he said, slowing to a halt.

“What was what?” Sol asked.

“I heard something,” Iah said, and reflexively turned to follow the sound.

Sol yanked him back. “Wall,” he said.

Iah felt his cheeks heat, and ducked his head.

“This way,” Sol said calmly. “Three paces from the last turn. Two doors. One left, leading to the north wing. The right leads to the practice yards.”

“Right,” Iah said.

Sol led the way right. “You’re right,” he said a moment later. “I can hear it too now. Someone is in the yard.” They kept walking.

The smells grew stronger – sweat, and dirt. Blood and the tang of metal. The smell of a great many people, though he could hear there was only one at the moment.

Lips brushed his ear. “Von Adolwulf,” Sol breathed. “Be quiet.”

Iah nodded, and pulled away so that Sol did not feel him shiver. He strained to hear the man in the courtyard below. But he heard only the rush of sword cutting air, boots on hard-packed dirt.

The Wolf himself. Iah shook his head. His waking world was stranger than any dream.

Sol tugged at his hand, pulled him away, back to the main hallway. “Come,” Sol said. “If he is here…” A trace of excitement laced his ever-calm voice.

“You want to go to his room,” Iah said. “Is that a good idea?”

“It is an opportunity we cannot ignore. Come, cousin.” He could hear the laughter as Sol said the last.

“Yes, cousin.” Iah replied.

Sol laughed softly, and increased their pace as he led the way through what seemed a maze of hallways and rooms. His hand was warm, rough with calluses. Iah held tight.

“Here we are,” Sol said several minutes later. “Unless von Dieter has moved recently, which I doubt.”

Iah felt his heart speed up, as a familiar ache spread through his mind. Like the pain that came when a numb limb began to regain feeling. A sharp, stinging tingle in his mind.

He could still do it. It almost made him want to sob with relief. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, hands coming up to meet the door that blocked his way.

Kept him from the Breaker on the other side of it. He turned his head toward where he could hear Sol. “It’s him,” he whispered. Then realized he’d spoken Illussor.

Sol nodded, and spoke Krian. “Good. Let’s go.”

They turned to go, and Sol faltered to a stop.

Iah felt and heard it as Sol was yanked away. Heard his muffled cry of pain.

“Well, well.” The Wolf’s voice was deep, rough. Cold. A winter breeze through the last of autumn’s leaves. “What have we here?”

“Lord General,” Sol said desperately in Krian. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

“Save it,” Dieter replied. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

Iah froze – the Wolf was speaking in Illussor. Fluent Illussor.

Dieter laughed. “I do believe I’ve caught a couple of spies.”

Iah heard Sol hit the ground with a pained grunt. He tried to back away as heavy footsteps approached him. Then he was all but lifted in the air, shoved into a wall. Iah swore. He wasn’t even going to try speaking. “You’re Illussor,” Dieter said. Iah began to twist and fight as fingers began to rip away the bandages. Dieter slammed him against the wall again. Iah’s head cracked against stone, and he held still.

“Tits of the Winter Princess…” Dieter said and let him go. “Who did this?”

Iah didn’t reply, and started to shake as the cold air struck where his eyes had once been.

“A Salharan,” Sol said.

Dieter threw Iah aside. He landed hard on top of Sol, who wrapped a steadying arm around his shoulders as he maneuvered them up.

Then Sol was yanked away again.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Dieter said. This time he spoke Salharan. “Next time you choose to take a midnight stroll, make certain the arcen is well and truly gone from your polluted body. Your eyes hold a shine.” He threw Sol back down. “Stay away from my room or you will find yourself where you do not want to be.”

Sol picked them up off the floor. “You’re not…”

“What do I care?” Dieter said, still speaking Salharan. “Just do not touch what is mine. Now go or I will cease to be tolerant.”

Iah heard him vanish into his room, then tugged hard at Sol’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“Yes,” Sol agreed. He had the tone to his voice, like summer dampened by the first winds of autumn, that meant his mind was racing to adjust his schemes to account for the incident. They were back in their room in minutes, no time spared for Iah to learn the way. “That was not expected.” He sounded angry. “I was certain he had not heard or seen us.”

Iah shrugged. “I told you we should not have done it.”

“Yes,” Sol conceded. “But I’m more troubled by his reaction.”

His boots hit the floor with soft thumps. Iah bent to arrange them for the morning, then stripped off his tunic and shirt. In undershirt and breeches, he counted paces to the desk and sat. From a drawer he pulled out fresh bandages.

Muttering to himself, Sol approached and took over the task of rewrapping Iah’s eyes. “I am sorry.”

“There is no need,” Iah replied, though he did not relish that ever happening again. It had felt as though he’d been laid bare for all to see. He stood and climbed into bed, crawling to his side. Sleep now did not seem such elusive prey. “Sleep,” he told Sol. “Fret about it in the morning.”

Sol sighed. “You’re right. I still cannot believe…” he descended into muttering as he readied for bed and slid under the blankets next to Iah. “I hope I did not just ruin our mission.”

“I guess we’ll see in the morning,” Iah said peaceably. “Nothing we can do now, unless you want to go and try to kill the Wolf.”

“Forget it,” Sol said. “The man is about my age and not so much taller, and I am no featherweight but he threw me around like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws. I do not envy Beraht his proximity to the man.” Iah felt him shift, and fingers touched his hand where it was curled into his pillow. “I apologize for quite possibly ruining everything.”

Iah turned his hand to grasp Sol’s. “You didn’t. And even if you did, I’m sure you’ll think of a way to fix it come morning. Trust the Goddess, or your stars, or whatever. And thank you for taking me for a walk.” With that he withdrew his fingers and turned over, heart knocking against his ribs. “Good night,” he whispered, asleep even as Sol replied.



Sol watched the sunrise. All night he’d been awake, and not a single solution had presented itself. Nor had sleep.

He’d let eagerness get the better of him, and that single slip had ruined everything. How long before someone came for them?

And why in the stars’ names had he never known the General was fluent in three languages? Sol let his head drop to thud against the stone of the window. He thought back through everything he’d observed during his winters here. The rare encounter on the battlefield. Nowhere could he find a missed indication that Dieter spoke anything more than Krian. It was known he had a handful of translators for Illussor and Salharan each.

It was no damn wonder the man infuriated everyone.

Why hadn’t Dieter killed them? Sol lifted his head again.

The General was currently suspended. His trial was up before the court in another day or so. If he was fortunate, he would be cleared of all charges and reinstated. Worst, he would be executed.

Sol frowned at the rising run. If the Kaiser really hated Dieter as much as it was said, then would he use this as a chance to kill him? Why not simply kill him sooner? Sol’s hands clenched into fists. What was he missing? There was something…

…But there wasn’t. The Scarlet General was easily the best of the four. If the people didn’t fear falling beneath the Kaiser’s wrath, Sol did not doubt Dieter would be incredibly popular. A skilled soldier, and a successful, seasoned general at only thirty-six. Even with the blemish from letting his men die so carelessly in an ambush he was far superior to the older generals, who had gone stale in their stations while Dieter flourished.

It made no sense. Or whatever sense existed was not to be found.

So Dieter would likely die. But surely locating two spies right in their midst would have earned him some manner of favor?

Though perhaps not. People were already infuriated with the way he treated Beraht. Suddenly identifying Lord Grau as a spy would not go over well, even when it was proved to be true and he got thrown into the coliseum with the rest.

But still. It was not in the Wolf’s nature to let spies live. Sol had heard of him killing for less.

He turned away from the window and moved to the desk. His ink case lay open, and Sol traced the bands of silver around the dark blue glass which hid the colors of the “ink” inside. The case clicked softly as he shut it.

No more arcen, not even to reach the Breaker. He touched his throat, feeling the bruises there. There was no doubt in his mind that he had lived simply because Dieter permitted it. He’d seen the man on the battlefield, and training with his soldiers, but this was his first real encounter with him.

Sol sighed, sick of thinking on Dieter. But the man was holding the Breaker prisoner – to get to Beraht he would have to get through Dieter. Thanks to his haste last night, that had become impossible rather than merely difficult.

At least Iah had definitively identified Beraht as the Breaker. He’d known Iah could do it. Sol looked toward the bed and smiled faintly at Iah, who remained dead to the world.

Captain Iah Cehka. Sol had made himself somewhat familiar with many of the prominent Illussor soldiers, sensing the information would prove useful someday when he crossed into Illussor never to leave it again. He had not expected the information to be useful in quite this way. He wondered what sort of life awaited Iah’s return. Or if he’d ever see him again after they parted ways.

Sol frowned at the strange thought.

The sun was up, the day begun. He had best fetch breakfast. Until his hand was forced, he would act like everything was perfectly normal. The kitchens now were his best chance to speak with Beraht again. Unless Dieter had mentioned something to Burkhard.

Slipping on his tunic and pulling on his boots, Sol cast one last look at the bed and then strode from the room, locking it behind him.

The early hour meant the castle was still quiet. But if he knew anything about Dieter, then he and Beraht were already awake.

He permitted a small sigh of relief as he proved to be correct upon entering the kitchen. Beraht sat at the table, eating slowly. Sol noticed a bruise on his right cheek. “Fair morning, prisoner.”

Beraht didn’t look up. “And you.”

Food was not at all appealing, not while his stomach was heavy with worry. But Sol snagged a piece of the soft, white cheese he’d long been fond of and forced himself to eat at least that. After a night without sleep, he could not afford to starve as well.

“Where is your keeper?”

Beraht finally looked up, licking butter from his fingers. “He was called away by another monk. Something about the dungeons and dead people. They speak too fast for me to catch it all.”

“What?” Sol frowned, and stored the information away for late. “Well, this works out for us. Why are you here? And named?”

“I am named because I did not want to die nameless,” Beraht said, expression mutinous. “I will make him take it back.”

Sol doubted it. “What is he planning on doing with you?”

“He wants me to spend the rest of my life here. A peculiar sort of revenge, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would certainly rather die than spend the rest of my life among my enemies,” Sol replied. “But I would not count on your living long.”

Beraht looked at him like he was an idiot. “I never assumed such a thing. It’s more a matter of waiting to see how these infernal Krians will finally kill me.”

“Has it escaped you, Beraht, what our Brothers will do to you should you return with a Krian name?”

“No,” Beraht said, his ire vanishing like an extinguished candle. “Wherever I go, someone is waiting to kill me.”

Sol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His mistake had lost him any time for persuading Beraht slowly. And if he didn’t agree, then he would simply find a way to kidnap him. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. And he spoke Salharan. “Have you ever wondered why the Illussor are in this war?”

“What?” Beraht looked at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“They’re in it,” Sol continued, ignoring him. “Because they’re searching for someone.” And he began to explain.

Beraht listened in silence, food forgotten in front of him. When Sol finished he picked up his teacup and downed the contents, grimacing slightly at the taste of cold tea. He stared at Sol. “You’re a traitor.”

“Yes.” Sol said it levelly, but his eyes flickered behind the drugs that made them brown.

“If I turned you in, they’d forgive my name.” Beraht stared into his empty teacup. “Then again, probably not.”

“You cannot tell me you feel any loyalty to men who declared you would not be worthy of a name until you murdered a thousand men.”

“More than that die every day on the battlefield,” Beraht said “The only difference was that I did it in the dark while they slept. I’m not proud of it, but it’s what I did.”

“You know it’s different,” Sol said sharply. “Why do you think Dieter hates you so much? For all that he is feared and despised the Wolf had never been accused of cowardice. He fights honestly, if nothing else.”

Beraht slammed his cup down. “I am not a coward!” His words rang through the kitchen. Thankfully no one was about.

An oddity Sol needed to look into. He half wondered if it was a trap, but they would have been taken long before now if that were the case. And Beraht would have warned him. “I never said you were,” he said. “But if you come with me, you can be something more than you have been so far.”

“You’re insane,” Beraht said. “There’s no way I’m this Breaker you speak of.”

“Iah confirmed it last night,” Sol replied. “And if you do not come willingly—“

“By force, I know.” Beraht touched the bruise on his cheek. “So I can stay here and die in Kria – either by beating, freezing to death, or in that star forsaken coliseum I keep hearing about. Or I could somehow make my way back to Salhara, stars willing, and turn you in to earn myself a painless death for daring to give a Krian power over me. My last option is to turn traitor and save an enemy that will, in all likelihood, hate me for both being foreign and taking away the only edge they have over both Kria and Salhara. Choice, choices, choices.”

Sol looked at him in disapproval. “You are not the only who has had a rough life.”

“Rough?” Beraht laughed bitterly. “You have no idea.”

“Nor do I care,” Sol said ruthlessly. “But I am offering you a chance to start fresh – and possibly become a hero, though reaching that point will be difficult.”

Beraht shrugged. “Difficult is all I know.” He sighed, resting his head across folded arms. After a moment he sat back up. “How do I know you’re not testing me or something?”

“Don’t insult me,” Sol said.

“How long have you been a traitor?”

“Since my Brothers left me for dead and a poor Illussor family pulled me from a river and brought me back to life.”

Beraht stared at him for several minutes. “Fine. Why not? It’s not as though I’ve anything to lose.”

“That was easier than I had thought.”

“You’re persuasive, Sol deVry. Have you never heard your soldiers when they talk about your bewitching voice? “

Sol blinked. “No.”

Beraht laughed. “So how are we getting out of here?”

“I am still working on that. But expect word from me in—“

“Prisoner!” A guard bellowed as several burst into the kitchen.

Beraht stood up, backing away. “Get away from me!” he snapped as the men in saffron uniforms bared down on him. “You’re not allowed to touch me.”

“Von Adolwulf has ordered no one touch him,” Sol shouted over the commotion. “And sworn to kill whoever does.”

A guard laughed nastily. “The Scarlet General has been placed under arrest and is currently about to stand trial. His orders are null and void.”

Sol swore. “Why? His trial is not for some time yet.”

The guards did not bother to answer him, merely subdued the struggling Beraht and dragged him from the room.

Sol stormed from the kitchen and snagged the first person he saw – the man who had knocked him down the stairs. “What is all this commotion about General von Adolwulf being arrested?”

“Haven’t you heard yet?” the man asked. “Five prisoners died in the night – two from the cold, another Salharan killed himself. The last two apparently decided to start early and wound up killing each other. So that’s five trials that were dropped, and they moved the Scarlet General into the available spot. The Kaiser had him arrested.”

Sol thanked the man and then bolted up the stairs, mind awhirl. Arresting Dieter wouldn’t have been necessary – the Kaiser was rubbing salt in the wound. Beraht was no doubt intended to be another blow.

Stars curse them all! He should have just dosed on red arcen and taken them all away when he’d had the chance. Now he had a mess on his hands.

If the trial went poorly, it was all too possible that Beraht would die right alongside Dieter.