Prisoner 17 & 18

[maderr]

Chapter Seventeen

Tawn wiped a smear of blood from his cheek with a scrap of shirt. He stared idly at the bodies on the floor as he dropped the scrap on the floor. The floor was wet and stained in several places; the room reeked of blood and sweat and excrement. Before long the bodies would start to smell as well. Four men lay unmoving against the far wall, a fifth at his feet. All were covered in blood, most of it coming from the empty sockets where their eyes had been.

One eye lay before the fireplace. His last throw had fallen a bit short – it was that which finally made the last Illussor talk.

Five Illussor in total, taken one by one. Strange, he’d thought, that so many would be camped out along the border. At least twice what was normal for the time of year.

Almost as if they were waiting for something. Or someone.

Three someones, he had learned. And four had shown up.

Interesting, interesting. Tawn couldn’t wait to see the expressions on the faces of his Brothers when he told them their favorite servant was a traitor, as was their newest member – the silly toy soldier they had sent to die that his Star be placed where they wanted.

A brief detour through Kria and five Illussor officers told quite an interesting tale.

He had known his brother-in-law was a traitor – he was too much a schemer to be that compliant – but he had underestimated him. Tawn touched his nose. His only flaw. One he was fast overcoming. Twice now Sol had gotten the better of him; there would not be a third.

Sol a traitor and Beraht along with him. Tawn laughed aloud, thinking of how he’d taken a Krian name. So he’d been a traitor from the start. He’d have to finally get around to letting that detail slip.

But not yet. The Brothers would know of events when he chose to tell them. Or maybe he’d let them go ahead and die. No…he wanted to see their faces when he told them about Sol and Beraht. All the Brothers would be assembling soon, wouldn’t they? Except for two. Tawn laughed.

He reached into his thigh-high boot and pulled out a small, corked glass vial. In the firelight the arcen burned like liquid fire; a thick dark orange. He pulled the cork and tossed it on to the eyeless corpse at his feet and tipped the vile back.

It burned like hot honey, with just a hint of bitterness as it slid down his throat. His tongue flicked out to get all the arcen from the vial that he could. Then it too was dropped onto the corpse, and he stepped over the bodies toward the door.

Scheming, scheming. So much to do…and plenty of winter left in which to do it. Tawn paused before a mirror, combing his hair with his fingers. The last Deceiver had been a bit feistier than his brothers.

He’d reminded Tawn of the first Illussor he’d captured. That one had been fun. Screaming, shaking, crying…but not dying. Not giving up. Even amongst all the Brothers, that one had tried to be strong.

Then Sol had stolen him. He wondered now how long Sol had been playing the traitor. Tawn turned away from the mirror and frowned at the room.

Hovel, really. Stone and wood to make a tidy little lookout while winter locked everyone up. How tiring it must be, to be so controlled by the weather. It was the greatest weakness of Kria and Illussor.

Though apparently Illussor had an even greater weakness. And thanks to a personal feud, Kria’s greatest strength was now skulking around the Deceiver capital. He wondered if the Krian Kaiser knew where his Wolf had gone.

Tawn grinned. He pulled his hood up, shadowing his face and the fire-orange of his eyes. Too far gone now. They’d never be yellow again.

But he would not let himself be completely seduced. No…he was still the master, and arcen his slave.

He turned back to the mirror and made sure his face was clean. His tongue flicked out to catch a bit of blood he’d missed. Next he fixed his clothes, smoothing the dark brown wool back to order. They smelled of arcen and blood and winter, but he didn’t think the Kaiser would complain.

With a few muttered words, Tawn left the watch post.



He appeared in a dark chamber. Only the fire provided light; enough to dispel the gloom but not reveal the figures in the bed opposite.

Two of them, one a woman to judge by the moans. The other a man. Tawn’s eyes flickered orange like the flames of the fire behind him, wordlessly casting a spell to let him see more clearly. Yes, a woman.

Orange was fun. Everything was so easy. He couldn’t wait to see what red would do for him.

“Good evening, Kaiser.” His Krian, he knew, was perfect. Flawless. Not a trace of an accent. He was not Sol’s equal – he was far superior.

The woman froze, cursed. “And Lady General Heilwig.”

“Who the devil?” Her voice snapped out across the room like a whip.

Tawn laughed. “I thought the phrase was something about Tits and a Princess.”

Heilwig climbed off the Kaiser and dropped to the floor, then stood with sword in hand. She moved to attack—

--and dropped with a curtly spoken word. Tawn stepped over her and approached the bed. “Good evening, Kaiser.”

“Salharan,” the Kaiser said. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tawn stepped back and bowed. “I’ve come to speak with you about a matter of some concern to both of us.”

Kaiser Benno swung his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up his clothes from where they lay on the floor. He frowned as his tunic stuck and yanked hard, jarring Heilwig’s body. She didn’t stir. “I have nothing to discuss with a filthy Salharan.”

“Not even if that something has to do with a certain General and the men who helped him escape?

Benno’s head snapped up. “Where is he?”

“Then I guess we have much to discuss?” Tawn smirked, then moved to a table and helped himself to a goblet and the untouched jug of wine there. It was rich, dark, quite fine. But nothing like arcen.

“Talk!” Benno snapped, sitting down and waiting impatiently for Tawn to obey.

Amused, Tawn complied. “Several weeks ago you lost your Wolf, yes?”

Benno said nothing.

“At the same time, I believe it was noted that a Krian by the name of Alden Grau also vanished.”

“Yes,” Benno said. “But we could not find a connection – Grau is just a poor country noble.”

Tawn threw his head back and laughed. “How easily tricked, you stupid Krians!”

“Do not test me.”

“Or you’ll what?” Tawn set his wine down and moved toward Benno. He bent over the Kaiser, planting his arms on the rests to pin him down, and grinned. “Try to attack me like your slut on the floor? Look at my eyes, Kaiser.” Arcen triggered dormant abilities; contorted others. Forced the body to do things. One side-affect was the alteration of the eyes – often temporary, but prolonged use and stronger colors made it permanent. After a month of using orange, his eyes were forever stained the color of glowing embers. “My magic could kill you with a word. Stupid of you not to have your sword near to hand.” He pushed off the chair, rising back to his full height. “And here I was always told you Krians slept with your swords more often than your lovers.”

He returned to his wine. “Anyway – Grau was no Krian. He was a….comrade. Or so I thought.”

“Salharan?”

Tawn laughed. “Who else could have given arcen to the Salharan slave your Wolf brought home? What was his name? Ah, yes. Beraht. Do you begin to see what they were doing right in front of your face?”

Benno glared into the fire, face clouded with rage. Hate. “Where are they now?”

“Ah, that’s where it truly gets interesting.” Tawn finished his wine and leaned against the table, folding his arms. “They’re in Illussor.”

“What?” Benno demanded after a moment of silence. “Impossible. The Illussor have nothing to do with anyone but themselves unless they deign to join the war bleeding slowly into their lands.”

Tawn laughed again, a chilling sound. “I am still gathering the details, but I did learn one very important fact from the men I interrogated.”

“Which is?” Benno leaned forward in his seat, the anger in his face mixing with hunger.

“The Illussor, it would seem, are going to be suffering mightily soon. I interrogated five. The first four had little to say – mostly they begged to die.” Tawn grimaced. “But the last one apparently was privy to special information. Hand-picked by the Duke of Ferra to watch for three men who would be attempting to cross the border – two Salharans and an injured Illussor. Apparently one of those Salharans – Beraht I’d imagine – is quite instrumental to the Illussor. I believe the word was ‘Breaker’. Apparently he is going to cause quite the upheaval in Illussor.”

Benno frowned.

“What manner of upheaval?” Benno sat back in his seat, crossing one leg so that the ankle lay across the knee of the other.

Tawn grinned. “They are going to lose their magic. Why such information was trusted to a mere soldier, I could not tell you.”

“More than a mere soldier.”

“Most likely.” Tawn shrugged. “I care not. Suffice to say Illussor will soon be quite vulnerable.”

“Yes…” Benno regarded him. “Why are you telling me this, Salharan? What game are you playing?”

“Only the usual one.”

“What do you want from me then?”

Tawn stood up. “You can attack Illussor with ease. Do so, and do whatever you want with it. Salhara has no need, and you Krians seem to like your space.”

“And you want?”

“The Disputed Lands.”

“I figured.” Benno leaned forward again, eyes reflecting the firelight. “Is that all?”

“Land for fifty miles to the south and east of it. Plenty of room for arcen.”

Benno nodded. “You are not finished.”

“A treaty. No more hostilities between us – I will be too busy doing other things to deal with Krians.”

Benno laughed. “You are powerful, Salharan, but I doubt you are so powerful as to be allowed to make these sorts of arrangements.”

“We will see. And if you try to betray me, you will see just how powerful I can be. Kaiser.”

“Do not try to intimidate me, Salharan. If your pollutions could kill so easily, there would be no war.”

Tawn’s laugh spread through the room like ice freezing over a lake. “Perhaps, Kaiser, we wanted the war as much as you did. They’re useful, yes, for keeping people under control? Attack Illussor before winter ends.”

“I do not need you to tell me how to go to war, Salharan.”

“No?” Tawn asked. “I wasn’t sure, as until now you’ve had the Wolf doing it for you. What do you think it will be like to fight against him? You should ask all those prisoners you have – but they’re all dead by now, aren’t they? Hmm…” He didn’t move when Benno stood and strode toward him.

And vanished just as the Kaiser reached out to grab him.

He reappeared in a village some miles away from the Winter Palace, just across the river to the west of it. Tawn held a hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow down, stop aching. It wouldn’t, though, not for a while yet. His entire body burned, ached from the inside out. Even breathing deeply was going to be somewhat trying for a few hours.

Too much. Too soon. He laughed. The Kaiser was more right than Tawn had any intention of letting him know – killing a man instantly wasn’t so easy. Only with red, and his body wasn’t ready for more than a very small dose of that. Right now, high on orange, even that might finally overstress his heart. And he would have to take more Orange, soon. All the long-distance transporting had drained the new vial and taxed his body. It had been worth it. By now he could transport to the Winter Palace, nearly anywhere in Salhara, and five of the ten watch stations along the Illussor border.

The town was quiet. Everyone had gone elsewhere for the winter – these small villages simply could not last. Tawn had laughed to hear the stories of the days when the villagers had tried it. Horrible, fascinating stories. He wondered if people really did resort to eating each other when food ran out. Surely not. How vulgar. Shouldn’t people who lived in this wretched country with its miserable weather know how to avoid falling into such dire straights?

But they were Krian. Their brains were obsessed with steel.

Tawn entered the stable at the edge of town and went to his horse in the furthest stall. Halfway there, he found himself on the floor.

Dizzy. Nearly blacked out. Stars take it. He would have to slow down. How bothersome. But pushing himself to red too fast would prove even more of a nuisance – he had no plans to let the arcen kill him. Not quickly. Not slowly. He was in charge.

Forcing himself up, willing away the lingering dizziness, Tawn readied his horse and led it from the stable. Best to return home for a few days. His arcen supply was running low, and he would have to give the fools some sort of report before they began to grow suspicious.

But what to tell them? Certainly not the truth. There would have to be a fine balance.

How satisfying that would be; to be given the order to kill the traitor at all costs. But really – who trusted a man who came from a family of traitors? Did those fools think that they were special? Too powerful for betrayal to touch them? The Seven Star Brothers existed for treachery and underhandedness; ruling the country from the shadows.

Tawn laughed as he mounted and rode out of town. He hated Sol with a passion, but the man was proving useful. There was nothing for him to engineer; Sol had done it all. All Tawn had to do was inform the appropriate parties to set his own plans into action.

Illussor would fall to Kria, the Regenbogen would go to Salhara, and in due course Salhara and the Seven Star to him.

Gingerly Tawn reached up to touch his nose, which still did not feel quite right. Nor did it look quite right. But Sol would pay soon – very soon. He’d kill that little blind Illussor right in front of his face, maybe get him to scream like he had before. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Sol had latched on to the pathetic thing. Then he’d leave Sol to die a very slow death.

Maybe whisper about Ariana while he watched him die. Stupid woman. And her brother so much worse. Tawn’s hand clenched the reins. Bastard. Maybe he’d pretend to exchange the Illussor’s life for the striking of his name. He was tired of it. Sol was not worthy of naming him. But it had been necessary to obtain the deVry surname. Soon he would be the only member of the family left. Then he would move on to stronger names, better names, and the deVry name would cease to exist.

And by dying in Illussor, the bastard would not be able to rot in the ground beside his sister. Tawn grinned.

He held a hand to his chest, feeling the slowed beating of his heart. Nearly a normal rhythm now. Perhaps another hour or so and he would be all right to transport.





“Is everyone assembled?” Ormin asked, dark orange eyes skimming over the shadowy figures of the Seven Star Brothers. “We are missing two, three if you count Nameless.”

Beside him, in the center of the raised dais, Jaspar gave one of his weak, raspy laughs. “Nameless? He is still missing.”

The doors creaked open as a man in muted brown wool and high brown leather boots crept into the room.

“Brother Tawn, you are late.” Tiad’s red eyes flashed with ire.

Tawn bowed. “Apologies. I have been pushing myself with arcen; transporting took some time. But I come with…interesting news. I assure you it will excuse my tardiness.” He rose to his full height and smirked.

Jaspar’s red-black eyes flickered, like lantern light on a dark lake. The doors clicked, locking the nineteen Brothers into the chamber. “What is this news, Tawn? And why do I sense it has to do with our missing General? Did you finally succeed in killing him? I warned you about letting personal matters interfere with business.”

“I haven’t touched him,” Tawn said. “It’s hard to reach him, in fact, because I transport somewhere I’ve never been.”

Ormin lifted a brow. “And where is that?”

“Illussor. Unless I’m mistaken – and my informants were most forthcoming after they lost their eyes – he and Beraht are assisting the Illussor King.”

Whispers exploded around the room. On the dais, the three men sat it an angry silence.

“We should have seen it coming,” Tiad said at last. “His family has never been anything but trouble. We executed his father for traitorous dealings!”

Jaspar scoffed. “His father was killed for consorting with those coastal heathens. He smuggled arcen. Just like half the people in that part of the country. That’s a far cry from running away to Illussor. Is there some new Deception involved here?”

“No,” Tawn said.

“Wait,” Ormin interrupted. “Who is this Beraht?”

Tawn threw his head back and laughed until he was ordered three times to cease. “Beraht was once nameless; for reasons unknown he allowed the Wolf to name him. And he is also in Illussor, along with the prisoner I first brought here, who was rescued by Sol deVry.”

“How long has Sol been a traitor?” Tiad asked.

Jaspar’s long, thin fingers stroked the dark wood of his chair. Even at a cursory glance it was easy to pick out the way those fingers shook, trembled. “When did our Brother Sol go missing? Do you remember that?”

Ormin nodded slowly. Around the room the whispers resumed, rising occasionally into full clarity before ebbing back into whispers. “We thought him dead. He claimed a river dragged him off and he was rescued by Salharan villagers. We checked into everything. There was no call to doubt his story. He bears the scars of the injuries – they would have taken months to heal, even with arcen.”

“That still is several months in which he could have been doing other things. I guess now we will never know.”

“Why should we believe you, Brother Tawn?” Jaspar said. “I think everyone here knows of the hostility that exists between you and your brother. Without him here to defend himself – you could be playing any game. You are as sly as every deVry to ever come into the world.”

Tiad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But that would explain Sol’s absence, and his lack of reports. He is not normally so remiss – indeed I know no one more thorough. Yet not a word, and other reports state that there was quite the upheaval in Kria some time ago.”

“Yes,” Tawn said. “The Wolf was sentenced to die. Sol and Beraht helped him escape, and now they hide in Illussor. To what purpose, I know not.” He hid a smirk.

The three men shared a look. Jaspar pulled a large vial from the depths of his cumbersome robes. His hands shook almost to hard to hold it, but a moment later they stilled and he was able to drink the thick, dark, near-black red liquid inside it. Stowing it, he finally looked at Tawn again. “What are you scheming?”

“I merely gather the information,” Tawn said. “It’s your job to put it all together.”

“Cease playing games.”

Tawn laughed. “No one ever likes to play. You’re all so impatient. But I do have one last bit of information for you, from Kria.”

“Which is?”

“The Kaiser is planning to attack Illussor. I have no doubt he wants his General back – or dead.”

“Yes,” Ormin said. “I would imagine so. Without the Scarlet Wolf, I do not think they’ll hold the Disputed Lands. The other three Generals would not last long, I think.”

“The Cobalt may,” Tiad said. “He likes to get his hands dirty. We’ve lost more than a few along the border to the games he is purported to play.” His red eyes slid over Tawn. “But again, Tawn, why should we believe you? It’s absurd, that the Krians would attempt to attack the Illussor. Magic in such quantities would crush the Krians – and it is still winter. Neither country stirs unless absolutely necessary.”

Tawn smirked. “As I said, the Kaiser desperately wants his General back. And for some reason, he believes he’ll have an edge.” He said nothing as his Brothers regarded him.

“What edge?”

“I couldn’t say. After I reported to my Brothers, I was hoping to gain permission to go deeper into Illussor.”

Jaspar laughed. “I admire your ambition, Tawn. That alone, I think, keeps you from being a traitor. Though I don’t wonder if you’re going for personal reasons as well. It must chafe that he’s outwitted you.”

Tawn said nothing, but he remembered the pain of every insult. Every punch. Every backhand. The broken nose. All the insults and humiliations while in court or on the battlefield. The melancholy Sol deVry was known for his quiet, complacent manner – except in battle and when he addressed his brother-in-law. “We’ve never denied we hate each other. Some differences cannot be reconciled. I will address that matter while I am there, yes. It is my right after his last insult. But I am a Seven Star Brother. My loyalty runs red.”

“Indeed,” Jaspar asked. “Never mind. Go take care of the traitors, find out what the Krians are thinking. If they actually succeed in taking Illussor…that will make things far too easy for us.”

Tawn folded over in a lazy bow. “I will need more arcen.”

“Is the need beginning to claw at you, Tawn?” Ormin asked with a mocking smile. “So easy to use, isn’t it? Like having wishes granted.”

“I control the arcen.”

“Yes,” Tiad said. “That’s what we all used to say. Be careful, Brother. Arcen does not consume – it seduces.”

Tawn remained silent.

“Fetch it,” Jaspar said. At his words, one of the shadowy figures in the room ducked away, a hidden door clicking open as he left. Jaspar eyed Tawn. “Use it wisely. This time of year, I need not remind you how precious arcen is. Especially the colors you require. Let us hope that come this spring we finally take those damnable Disputed Lands. Our fields are more and more reluctant every year to take to arcen.”

Beside him Tiad swore softly; around the room voices murmured their agreement. Arcen did not like Salharan land, and each year it grew more difficult to grow. The territory the Krians called the Regenbogen always flooded with arcen flowers in spring. But the Krians destroyed them almost immediately. And the warring began all over again.

The man who had vanished before reappeared, and handed a small, flat box to Jaspar before rejoining the shadows surrounding the dais. Jaspar held it out to Tawn. “You may have this.”

It was about half the size of Tawn’s hand, made of black leather and silver fastenings. He opened it, nodding approval. Five vials – three of dark orange and two of bright red. Especially thick, he could tell at a glance. Concentrated arcen; any thicker and it would have to be chewed.

Arcen flowers changed color with age. The youngest buds were dark violet, and with each stage of growth the color shifted, rising through the colors of the rainbow. Violet arcen was the easiest to make – the flowers at that point were numerous, healthy. It was only as they aged that they began to weaken in the Salharan soil. Yellow, orange and especially red were hard to come by. No one outside the brotherhood could come by it without a license that was nearly impossible to get and for a great deal of money – fortunes had been lost to the addiction that came with the stronger colors. Up to green, there was no addiction. While in yellow, it could be fought. Orange was the point of no return.

“Though if you wanted Tawn…you could have this…one sip would equal everything in that case and more.” Jaspar reached into his cloak again and withdrew another vial. He held it up – in the meager light of the chamber, it looked black. Even under a good light it would appear black. Only under direct sunlight did the deep red become apparent.

Black arcen. Made from the deep red petals of an arcen flower on the verge of dying. Illegal. Anyone caught with it was put immediately to death. If drinking the black arcen didn’t kill them first. It was, though he hated to admit it, a sign of Jaspar’s strength that he could drink the stuff with aplomb.

At least for now. At some point his heart would simply give out – or explode. “Thank you but no.”

Jaspar laughed and returned the vial to his robe. “There will come a day, Tawn, unless you stop now.”

Tawn said nothing, merely emptied the case and threw it aside. The vials were tucked away into special compartments in his thigh-high boots. “If my Brothers are done with me, I have business to which I must attend.”

“Then by all means go,” Tiad said. “Bring us their Stars, that we might acquire new Brothers.”

“As you command,” Tawn said, and left the room laughing.



Chapter Eighteen

Beraht woke with a start, and spent several confused minutes trying to figure out where he was.

Illussor. His bedroom. After he’d finally convinced Esta to let them stop. She’d been deadly determined to teach him every last dance she knew – and then Sol had actually taught them a few Salharan dances.

That had been embarrassing. But when would he have ever learned how to dance? He wasn’t like Esta or Sol or even that bastard. Ballroom dancing was something nobles learned, not nameless peasants.

Beraht shoved the stupid thoughts aside. It was…he looked out the window. Black save for the faintest bits of moonlight. It was far too late at night or early in the morning to be awake, let alone thinking about his idiotic dancing lessons. Cold. It must have been that which woke him – sometime in the night he’d thrown his blankets off. Why in the stars had he done an idiotic thing like that? He climbed out of bed to retrieve the quilts that had wound up on the floor; by the time he had everything back on the bed, he was almost hot from the exertion.

Sleep refused to return even after he’d returned to the warm blankets. He stared out the window across the way, seeing not much more than the black sky. He turned over and stared at the wall.

His mind wandered from one thought to another but refused to land on anything – not even thinking about his current situation or mulling over the bastard’s treatment from a few days ago. Stars take him anyway.

Why couldn’t he sleep?

Irritably Beraht threw off the blankets and climbed out of bed. Maybe something to drink. That had always helped when he’d been too wound up to sleep in camp. But he really didn’t feel like walking the distance to the kitchens…and he hated to wake a servant for such a thing. It still didn’t sit well with him, ordering servants around. And he’d kill anyone that forced him to wake up at such a hideous hour simply to fetch a drink.

Beraht played with the fire, the littlest bit of arcen left in his system enough to stoke it. Lately he had been getting strange looks – Esta had explained the Illussor were beginning to feel his raw magic. Uncorrupt, they called it. Pure, Dieter liked to say in his sneering, grating tone that said quite clearly he thought Beraht the exact opposite.

Stars damn the man anyway.

With a snarl of frustration, Beraht returned to bed, shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep. It wasn’t working. Something had him wound up, too tense to relax.

But what? If it wasn’t the cold which had woken him, what was it? He’d noticed nothing remiss when he’d woken, except the lack of blankets. Perhaps he was losing his mind. What was he doing here, anyway? He was an unwanted Salharan with a Krian name given by a man who hated him for trying to scrape out an existence.

Whatever.

He wasn’t the sort that did things like save people…then again, destroying the magic upon which an entire country relied was exactly the sort of thing he did. Though never quite on that scale.

Beraht sought desperately for something else to think about. Esta. She was pretty. And fun. Nor did she seem to mind that her “hero” – he snorted – was a Salharan peasant and soldier with a Krian name. At least she didn’t know why he had it.

Was it so hard for that bloody bastard to understand? Who enjoyed killing men in their sleep? Certainly not him. But it had been the only way. He was useless with open combat; his skills had always been in sneaking around. A skill born of a desperate need for food…clothes…whatever a scrawny kid with no name could get his hands on.

How many times had he seen the looks in the eyes of those few other nameless? A look that begged and screamed for existence. No one had ever given it to them. And a nameless could not give what he didn’t have.

Now he was stuck with a Krian name. What existence was there in that? He was still no one. A Breaker…but that only until he did it. Assuming he lived, he would be back to nothing. There was no welcome for someone who ruined lives that way. No wonder they couldn’t use an Illussor for the job, never mind the claim that they couldn’t find one.

Much easier to blame it all on a Salharan. But Esta had never struck him as that harsh…then again he’d been half in love with the Captain who had, when he died, made his nameless lieutenant a Seven Star Brother. He’d been convinced that meant he was worth something.

Only to find out he was simply the most expedient, secure way to return the Seven Star Mark to the Brothers.

Beraht buried his head in his pillow. Stirring up things he’d like to forget was not going to improve his chances of going back to sleep.

But wrestling with the unhappy thoughts proved exhausting, and he did not even notice when he drifted off several minutes later.

Beraht.

This time, he did not wake up with a start. He murmured softly, turned toward the soft voice. It was both near and far…almost intimate, though he could not determine why.

Beraht. Come.

He moved slowly, sliding out of bed and putting his boots on. Still asleep, though his eyes were open. Beraht put on his clothes, boots. Then he left the room.

Behind him another door opened, a figure stepping out. Beraht didn’t notice, but continued to walk slowly, stiffly, following the sound of the near-far voice calling to him. Through the castle, down the stairs, out through the garden.

From the pocket of his jacket he pulled a key given to him by Matthias only the day before. He had been given strict instructions not to go down unless Matthias or Esta were with him…but they also wanted him to have access, should anything happen.

He continued to walk, traveling the dark stairs and darker underground tunnel as though he had done so all his life. His movements were slow, heavy, dominated by the fact that he was still asleep.

If he’d been awake, he would have noticed the figure behind him. But asleep, he would not have noticed even a man standing right in front of him. He walked on, slow but unhesitating. The door at the end made him pause, as he fumbled in his jacket for the second key Matthias had trusted to him.

A minute later he opened it, and walked into the Crystal Chamber.

Beraht.

…You are Benji.

Yes. I’m so glad you’ve come to see me.

See you? What for?

To make me stronger.

Beraht frowned in his sleep. Something…wasn’t…right…but what? Stronger?

Yes. That’s what this chamber is for – it amplifies the power of the Illussor. They only put in one…but this room…it could handle more. Should handle more. Don’t you want to help?

He was helping. But not like this. What was wrong? Sleeping and waking began to war in his mind, but that voice, which some part of him realized was in his head, kept him sleeping. Beraht struggled to wake…then fell back into sleeping.

They don’t need more power.

Sure they do. It’s why they made this. For power. We could be stronger than everyone. Better. Something. Someone.

Someone…

Come. Be my brother. We can make the Illussor brighter than ever.

Beraht struggled for an argument, but could find none. What could be wrong with making everyone stronger? That sounded better than making them weaker. Of what use was weakness?

None.

He reached out a hand toward the small crystal held by the too-still hands of the Keeper. One touch was all it would take, and—

Pain exploded in his head, and Beraht saw stars through the tears of pain blurring his vision. He held his head in his hands, muttering every curse he could think of.

Then it dawned on him he didn’t know what was going on. Cautiously he opened his eyes – and gaped. Two things immediately struck his vision.

He was in the Crystal Chamber. Dieter was glaring at him.

Well, if Dieter was angry things couldn’t be too wrong. “Why are we down here?”

“As you’re the one who woke me up and then decided to take a stroll, I think it would make more sense if I asked you that.” Dieter’s arms hung at his side, loose but clearly the man was all too ready to grab him and throw.

Which, Beraht realized, was exactly what the bastard had done. “I think you damn near split my head open. Do you know how to be gentle?”

“Gentle?” Dieter sneered. “You were about to ruin everything. If you’d touched that,” he motioned behind him to Benji, and the perfect, round crystal held in his hands. “Like you were about to, everything would have been worse. I don’t know much about what’s going on, but I understand that much. Tits of the Winter Princess, Beraht! What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Beraht said with a frown, ignoring Dieter’s snort. “I was asleep…I think…I don’t remember anymore. Though that might be more from being thrown into a wall.”

Dieter sneered and stalked toward him, yanking Beraht forward. “Your head is fine – at least, you’re no worse than usual. If I hadn’t done so, right now you’d be responsible for something far worse than ridding these people of magic. Though why everyone is so upset about that, I will not understand.”

“You’ve never had magic,” Beraht snapped. “You don’t understand anything about it.”

“Is there something special about it?” Dieter asked. He sank his hand into Beraht’s hair and yanked his head back so Beraht was forced to look up at him. His other hand rested on his head around his eye, finger and thumb opening his eye wide. “The way it makes your heart beat too fast? Your muscles ache? The bitter taste? Or is it the warmth? The way it burns and makes you forget that you use it to hurt and kill? Or do you enjoy the headaches and hunger and restlessness that come when you haven’t had any? Do you look forward to the day it will eventually kill you? I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard of it. That all victims of arcen die with black eyes, and no one can tell if the red pouring from their bodies is blood or arcen.”

Beraht fought a shudder, but he knew by the gleam in those gray-green eyes that Dieter had noticed. Damn the man. How did a man who eschewed it know so much? But it didn’t surprise him. “Let me go.”

Dieter did so. “And are the Illussor any better? This—“ he motioned to the room. “Seems even worse than your country’s addiction. Krians may be good at war…but we were never guilty of such things as the rest of you.”

“And how is that confounded coliseum any better?” Beraht demanded

“I never once said I approved of the coliseum,” Dieter said coolly. “But that is still a far cry from what the Salharans and Illussor do.”

Beraht turned away. “Whatever. You play high and mighty all you want – you’re as terrible as the rest of us. The only difference is that you’re famous for it – in three countries.” He strode out of the chamber before Dieter could kill him.

He heard Dieter’s steps, and waited for the inevitable blow.

But none came. Dieter fell alongside him, though in the dark tunnel Beraht could not really see him. Stars he hated this place. Could they have designed anything more eerie? Then again if he’d been a sneak thief or someone intent on ruining the Illussor, he’d think twice about this tunnel. He doubted he’d be willing to come down here completely alone. Even the darkest night wasn’t as black as this. The torches were all but dead; whoever maintained them would not be checking them for some time yet.

Beraht shivered and realized that he was cold. Again. Stars he hated these cold countries!

Dieter led the way out and locked the door behind them. Beraht yawned as they walked, barely noticing anything but the utter still of the palace. Had he really sleep walked all the way down to the Crystal Chamber? Stars, he hoped it didn’t happen again.

He continued on toward his own room when Dieter stopped at his own door – but a hand around his arm yanked him back. “No,” Dieter said.

“Stars refuse you!” Beraht snapped. “I would like to go to sleep. If you want to continue bickering—“

Dieter shoved him inside and locked his door. “You can’t be trusted not to wander off again,” he said. “You’ll stay here where I can watch you until everything is finished.”

“I don’t think so,” Beraht said. “I don’t need you watching over me.”

“Because you did so well sleeping by yourself.”

Beraht resisted the urge to hit him. He wasn’t feeling quite that stupid yet. “I’m not your prisoner anymore – I’m not sleeping any closer to you than I absolutely have to. Even next door is more than I can stand.”

“Feel threatened even through a wall, Beraht?”

“Stop saying my name!” Beraht snapped. Then he flinched, as his own word struck him. It wasn’t his name. It had been forced upon him. He wasn’t Beraht. Feeling sick, anxious to get away from the man staring at him with those too-sharp eyes, Beraht turned to flee—Dieter grabbed him and hauled him back.

“You’re not going anywhere. Not unless you’re one hundred percent positive that won’t happen again. Is that what you want to tell the people who have decided you’re some damned hero? Tell Esta? That you ruined their lives by sleepwalking?”

Beraht tried to pull away. “Then lock the damn door – and if I really wanted, I’m sure I could get out of here.”

“If walking around in your room wakes me up, what makes you think I’d sleep through your trying to escape here?” Dieter smirked as he removed his sword and belt, then shucked his jacket. “Surely you’re used to sleeping with me by now, Beraht.”

“No one gets used to you,” Beraht snapped. “I am not staying here.” But he hadn’t even finished turning around when Dieter snatched him back again – and this time kept moving, using his momentum to throw Beraht into bed.

“Stay there,” Dieter said. “If you try to leave again, I’ll tie you down.”

Beraht glared hatefully, though when he sat up it was only to remove his boots – which he threw at Dieter. He seethed all the more when both were caught. “I hate you.”

“You say that like I care.” Dieter waited until he was satisfied Beraht wasn’t going anywhere, then moved to the table near the fire and picked up a book.

Unable to muster further energy to keep protesting, Beraht tamped down on his rage until he could find a way to get Dieter back and closed his eyes, determined to go to sleep. And not wake up with the back of his head banging against crystal. Stars that had hurt. His head still ached…




Dieter looked up as the air in the room changed – the anger had faded. He stood up and glanced at the bed, where Beraht had fallen asleep somewhere in the pile of blankets. As expected. The idiot could sleep just about anywhere, once he stopped getting in a snit about it. Salharans got so touchy about where they slept – did it matter so long as they were warm and rested?

He went back to the fire and picked up his book. Illussor history – he had been hoping to find some small period of time when they had used some form of weaponry. Anything that might have devolved and which he could use to teach them proper combat. No such luck.

So it looked as though it would be harder even than getting Beraht to shut up and stand still. But that aside, the Illussor had an interesting history. It was a pity they’d chosen to rely so heavily on magic. Then again, he thought with a trace of amusement, if they’d gone the other route it was possible Kria would have a real problem on their hands rather than a continuing annoyance.

The problem of knowing how to fight aside, all the practice in the world would not solve the dilemma of having no weapons nor anyone to make them. Craftsmen worked for years, if not a lifetime, to master their skills. He doubted anything of the necessary caliber existed in Illussor – at least not anyone that would be willing to step forward.

He closed his book with a snap and stared into the fire. Nothing he could do about it now. Even leaving the castle to explore other possibilities was not an option – there were more than a few Illussor who would gladly put the full force of their abilities forward to kill the Wolf of Kria.

It made him tired. Was there—

Dieter killed the thought. It was a waste of time. He stood up and set the book aside, then strode to the window. How were his men? Had the Kaiser ordered them killed? Would he force them to do something to make up for his betrayal?

Not that the Kaiser knew where he was, which was a relief, but he would accuse Dieter of betrayal all the same.

Movement from the bed. Dieter turned sharply around, and watched as Beraht began to talk in that low voice he had been using earlier. He wondered how furious Beraht would be to learn that not only was he walking in his sleep, but talking. That little jewel of information would be saved until it could be used to full effect.

It was that nonsense again. Dieter moved toward the door, blocking it. He almost laughed as the sleep-walking Beraht went straight to where his boots had landed after Dieter had caught and dropped them. Then Beraht was walking toward the door, and stumbled to a halt when there proved to be an obstacle.

Dieter reached out and shook him hard by the shoulders. He grinned the moment realization returned to Beraht’s face.

“Shut up,” Beraht snarled, swinging out to catch Dieter on the chest, jerking away when Dieter caught his wrist and held fast. “I hate you. Stars, can’t I get one good night’s sleep?” He rubbed his face. “Why can’t we just get it over with?”

“You might try asking them in the morning,” Dieter said, and shoved him back toward the bed. This time he followed, sliding in the side nearest the window. Already he could see the faint, hazy gray that meant day was rapidly approaching.

He stifled a sigh. If necessary he was more than capable of going without sleep – but he didn’t think babysitting an idiot counted as necessary. Dieter tugged the quilt up and closed his eyes; on top the blankets, his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword propped nearby. A few hours sleep was better than none, and tomorrow he fully intended to find a place he could practice – only so much was accomplished practicing in his room. Surely there must be a spare room of significant size around this place somewhere.

Dieter felt himself sliding into sleep when a sound woke him. He sat up and saw Beraht was talking in his sleep again. Why now? Why had this problem never cropped up before? Neither Matthias nor the others had mentioned something like this might occur…so what was causing it? All he knew from Beraht’s strange mutterings was that Benji apparently wanted him to make things ‘strong’ which, to Dieter’s mind, meant worse.

He caught Beraht as he tried to leave the bed, dragging him down and pinning him there when the sleeping Beraht began to struggle. He cracked Beraht once, hard, on the face with his open palm.

Beraht’s yellow eyes changed from a distant, hazy gleaming to a full on bright yellow glow. “I’m not sure what I hate more,” he said. “That this keeps happening or that you’re somehow involved.”

“If you want to ruin things,” Dieter said, letting him go and returning to his side of the bed, “Next time don’t wake me up while you’re doing it.”

Beraht muttered something under his breath, then spoke more clearly. “Since when do you care, anyway? Shouldn’t it be right up there with revenge for you? Letting me ruin everything?”

“Why should I make an entire country suffer for my revenge? I know I’m a bastard, but even I have my limits.” Dieter shot him a scathing look.

“Meaning, you have no where else to go and these guys really will kill you.”

Dieter looked at him. “So the Kaiser was just pretending to kill me?”

“I think he sort of wanted you to win, actually. Probably just to torture you more.” Beraht made a face. “I would to, if I were him. What else do you do after you kill the man you’ve hated his entire life?”

Dieter laughed. “I’m sure he’ll find someone else to hate.”

“And what about you?” Beraht asked suddenly, as if something just struck him. “What do you do now?”

Dieter rolled over and lay down. “Fight. Teach men how to fight. Only the country has changed.”

Beraht made a face at his back and then climbed out of bed. “I’m not going back to sleep. So far you’ve slammed my head into a wall, damn near shaken me to death, then pinned me down and attempted to break the bones in my face. I really don’t want to know what’s next.” He frowned at the table near the fireplace, which held only a book and a pitcher and cup of water. “Don’t you ever have anything like wine handy?”

“I don’t drink,” Dieter said irritably from the bed. He sat up slowly. “And you will most certainly sleep, because I do not feel like going an entire night without sleep.”

Beraht glared back. “Then sleep. No one is stopping you. Only your stubborn determination to be as obnoxious and irritating as humanly possible. Stars curse you! I’m going to find some wine. It’s about the only thing that will knock me out and keep me from killing you.”

“Stay here,” Dieter said, climbing from the bed and stalking toward Beraht, grabbing the man close and hauling him back to the bed. “You’re not going anywhere except to sleep.”

“So you can wake me up again when I try for a fourth time to do whatever it is Benji is trying to get me to do?” Beraht struggled away. “No, thank you. I’ll just stay awake.”

Dieter held tighter, voice taunting. “You’ll just doze off.”

“Stars refuse you!” Beraht said, and started to fight and swing and kick. “Let me go! Stars above! You drive me insane!” He continued to struggle even when Dieter held him pinned to the ground. His eyes blazed sunshine-yellow. “I wish I’d just had the nerve to go to your tent that night. If I’d killed you in your sleep, we’d all be better off!”




Dieter roughly let him go, standing and striding over to the bed. “Then you should have let me die in the coliseum. Live with your mistake. Beraht.” With that he climbed into bed, and Beraht could tell a few minutes later that he was fast asleep. It was the only time Dieter
didn’t seem as much like the beast he was called after.

Muttering a handful of curses – barely noticing as he switched fluidly between three languages – Beraht turned to the fire and muttered a quick, angry word. The dying flames sprung back to life and began to ward off the chill creeping into the room. Yanking off his jacket and shirt, dressed only in breeches, Beraht climbed into bed.

Just to stay warm. And because there really wasn’t anywhere else to go.

So whatever. Fine. He’d find a way to get revenge in the morning. But what was wrong with him? Beraht shook his head. Tomorrow. He was too tired to deal with it now.

Though he was also scared to fall asleep again. Morning couldn’t come soon enough. How ironic that before when he’d wanted to fall asleep, he’d only been able to stay awake but now that he wanted to stay awake, all he could do was yawn and feel his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. And the heat pouring off the brute beside him didn’t help things either.

Whatever. Beraht stopped fighting sleep. If he started walking, fine. Dieter showed no qualms about waking him up as painfully or jarringly as possible.

Pain woke him. Jarring, hot, burning. It woke him screaming, and from the corner of his eye he caught he the flash of Dieter’s sword in the early morning light streaming through the windows. He twisted and turned and clawed around on the bed, the pain too great for him to pinpoint the source. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” His words descended into screaming, and then he was being held face down on the bed, fingers touching his lower back.

Then he knew. “They know,” he managed before he had to bite back another scream.

The doors banged open, admitting Iah and Sol. Sol, he could see, was also in a great deal of pain. The two Salharans shared a look.

“What’s going on?” he heard Dieter demand.

“The Brothers,” Sol managed before he crumbled to his knees, hugging himself against the pain, barely seeming to notice as Iah held him in an attempt to comfort. “It’s just a warning. Probably…” he gasped in pain. “Tawn. It’s his sort of trick.”

The pain didn’t ease for several more minutes; by the time it stopped a serving girl had arrived with Dieter’s breakfast tray. Beraht sat up slowly, barely hearing as Dieter ordered the girl to set it down and go, watching as she all but ran out.

Great. Miserable night. Miserable morning. And time was ticking down now that the Seven Star knew two of its members were traitors. Which made him think. “How would Tawn know?”

“I’m sure his methods of acquiring the information weren’t pleasant,” Sol said, slowly standing up. He slid an arm around Iah’s waist. “But I know he’s the one who did it. We need to talk to Matthias and the rest today – if you don’t take care of matters soon, Tawn will be along to deal with us. I don’t know how, but if there’s a way Tawn will find it.

Beraht nodded and slid out of bed.

“What were you doing in here, anyway?” Sol gave them both a look.

“Another story that can wait until we’re at breakfast,” Dieter said with a grimace. “Something tells me I shall have to endure the downstairs this morning.”

Beraht rolled his eyes. “Is the brave Wolf scared of a few people?”

“I’m more not looking forward to the one that finally snaps and tries to attack me – because I will win, and it will not end well.” Dieter grabbed his sword from beside the bed and set it on the table. “Now everyone get out.”

Biting back a dozen or so comments, Beraht grabbed his things and returned to his own room. On top of everything else, he got to be seen sneaking out of Dieter’s room like a guilty secret.

The man was going to die.

Comments

[mailechan.livejournal.com]

I don't know who I don't like more: Dieter or Beraht. Beraht is such a peasant! And Dieter is so violent!

*loves you SO MUCH* I love this story! I love it!

[fei-yen11.livejournal.com]

Who's Benji? I thought Beraht was having difficulty sleeping cuz Dieter wasn't with him. ^_~

If Illusor loses their magic, how will they defend against the Krians? I so enjoy the Dieter and Beraht interaction, they're so prickly. Which is balanced by Sol and Iah.

Well, i'll just have to wait next thursday. (winces) I have 2 mock boards, 1 report and proposal, 2 exams to go before I could read the next prisoner installment..... >.

[ynm.livejournal.com]

I'm sure Dieter's just using the sleepwalking as an excuse to hold Berath! (okay, it might totally be in my fangirl mind only but...lol!) But I'm still squicky about the violence, if only he didn't beat Berath so much...

And the “What were you doing in here, anyway?” !! They were both in bed together! But why did Sol go into Dieter's room? Shouldn't he have gone into Berath's room first?

One week is too long a wait for Prisoner...*sobs* You have no idea how often I refresh on Thursday just waiting for Prisoner updates. I have no life...

[melayneseahawk.livejournal.com]

Dieter and Beraht just need to get over it and have sex. Then they'll all be able to sleep. Teehee.

Lovely, really great.

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

lovelove.

[twilight-angel.livejournal.com]

Awesomeness. I love how we're not eighteen chapters into it, and Dieter and Beraht still want to kill each other. Aw, nothing says love like shoe-throwing and rough-housing in bed. :p

[phoenix-rinna.livejournal.com]

^___^ Much love.

This whiole Benji angle is interesting... I wonder if Beraht is hearing him/Benji is talking to him because he's the Breaker? Really gladthat Dieter is a light sleeper. That could have been bad.

The only problem I've ever had with this story is having to wait a week for the next two chapters. It gets almost painful at times.

[sporkess.livejournal.com]

First of all - Tawn really is a disgusting character. I mean, some sadistic characters I have this whole guilty fascination with - but not him. He's just... slimy. Well done!

I love Beraht and Dieter. So fun, so angry, and even though I think they'll be more dysfunctional than a monkey with a train set, at least no one can ever suggest that Beraht has Stockholm Syndrome. I'm thoroughly intrigued about what's causing his sleeping troubles... I can hardly wait for more.

I did pick up on a couple of typos. The first two are both from very early on, about Tawn.
Tawn couldn’t wait to see the expressions on the faces of his Brothers when he told them their favorite servant was a traitor, as was their newest member – the silly toy soldier they had sent to die that his Star be placed where they wanted. Not so much a typo as that I don't think the sentence makes sense. I think you're missing a word or some punctuation or something.
He pulled the cork and tossed it on to the eyeless corpse at his feet and tipped the vile back. Vile the arcen may be, but I believe you mean 'vial'.

The last two are nearer the end.
“I think he sort of wanted you to win, actually. Probably just to torture you more.” Beraht made a face. “I would to, if I were him." You have a 'to' in place of a 'too'.
And the final one is just a formatting error.
With that he climbed into bed, and Beraht could tell a few minutes later that he was fast asleep. It was the only time Dieter
didn’t seem as much like the beast he was called after. It randomly goes onto a new line.

Much love and worship, and I hope to see more of this soon!

[emthornhill.livejournal.com]

LOL! Sorries that last part was funny. ^___^ The most serious of the chapters and I'm gigglings. geesh. =)~

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

*_______________________*



*drags Tawn into secluded forest, stabbies him and leaves him to rot*

Guh. So much tension. *_____* And you're killing me with the suspense. I reeeeeeeaaaaallllllly want to see Tawn get his. :/ But! God, that little dance that Beraht and Dieter are doing around each other? *_* Seriously, they can't seem to help themselves from caring. Even if they don't particularly want to admit it. XD

And Benji calling to Beraht in his sleep? O_____________O Creepy. Seriously. I so want to know what's up with that.

Also, *winces for Sol and Beraht* That sounds painful. And the way you had Beraht reflecting on his past of being nameless? ;_; *snuggle hugs him* Poor man.

Seriously, you rock sooooo much. I'm soooo glad it's Thursday! *hearts* ^______________^!!

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Benji is Matthias's brother, who is in the Crystal Chamber.

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Oh, good, Sky has stabbied Tawn. No need to worry anymore. Oh, wait, there is still Benji. And the Kaiser. Oh crap.

I'm dying to see how you wrap this all up! I'm sure it will be amazing.

The Benji thing definitely threw me. Poor Matthias. And the others who grew up with them. It will be hard to hear that he is working for the opposite of what they are, whether it is truly his 'self' speaking or not.

Can't wait for next week!!

[stardance.livejournal.com]

I love Beraht XD And I am so glad he's realizing it's his name. Now he just has to realize that the man who named him isn't so bad (and I want Beraht to name Dieter's sword!)

Villain complex or no, I do not like Tawn. Grr. And I also don't like Salhara very much from what I've seen (And while I hate the Kaiser, it annoys me when people repeat the same ignorant rumors about Kria XDDD Go figure). I love your three countries in this story. Next thursday can't come fast enough.

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

Am happy. And the best part was the sneaking out like a guilty secret, though the story was definitely excellent *happy sigh*. Dieter's guilty secret. *big smile* These two need to get more bed time.