Daniel tried to focus on his slick, bullet head with piggy eyes and form his name. “Kuh. . elmuh?” A thick stream of saliva and blood poured from his lip.
“Yes. Naturally. Groggy? I am not surprised. You got hit by a troll. You’re lucky she only hit you once. Twice or three times and you would have been a bag of skin filled with jelly.
“But she’s a tame troll. Trained. She knew to check her swing. All you took was a playful swat.” Kelm moved his hand across, as if shooing a fly. “You’ll live. Teeth don’t look so good, but maybe you’ll hold on to them. You’ve been hanging here for quite a time; I take your return to consciousness as an encouraging sign of your physical resilience.”
Kelm was illumined by a nearby brazier full of coal.
“Now tell me. Why are you here?”
Daniel’s words came as separate, mangled syllables. “Ah. Wuh. Ana. Jhu-oin. Oo.”
“You want to join me?”
Daniel nodded, a tilt of his head quickly downward and then slowly up. It was a long shot. That he came in “uniform,” as it were, dressed as a yfelgop, was the only possible excuse he had of making it out of whatever Kelm had in store for him. . Likely death, with a whole lot worse preceding it.
Kelm straightened. His thick lips pursed. “Join me? That’s certainly bold. You blacken your body and run around without your shirt on. You look the part; I’ll give you that.”
His lips shifted and drooped into an enormous frown. “Unfortunately for you, I am not so gullible as to believe that a man dropping through my roof with a sword, and a gun, is trying to be my friend, no matter how ridiculously he paints himself. And I still would not believe you even if your sword was not still sticky with the blood of a murdered yfelgop. Which it is.”
“Pr’ve. Muh-sulf.”
“You wanted to prove yourself?” Kelm chuckled. “Bravo. But no more games. I know your name, Daniel Tully, and I know what sort of person you are.”
Kelm slapped him across the face. There was an explosion of pain very far off, and equally as far off, a cry of pain somewhere between a growl and a howl.
“Who did you come with? How many are you? What are your objectives?” Each question was an angry bark. Daniel could only reel, his head spinning. He could feel the pit of unconsciousness open at his feet, the pit he would fall into if he did not stay awake.
Kelm wiped his hand on his chest. If he wanted answers to his questions, he seemed happy enough not to pursue them. He took a few steps back and settled his weight on the back of his feet.
“You should join us,” he said in a deep voice. “Ni?ergeard should be destroyed. You have no idea of the slavery that Ni?ergeard has subjected your country and your people to. The centuries of control that it has exerted on the course of this nation. The hold that it’s had on the neck of history.”
Kelm’s eyes flicked up and down Daniel. “I was told about you, young Master Tully. I was told about what they did to you and the girl. They picked you up, sharpened your resolve with their lies, and hurled you like a weapon straight at a target. I am a warrior, a very cunning and intelligent one, but I have never used children in a campaign, for any reason, much less turned a young boy and a young girl into assassins.
“And you still are an assassin, aren’t you? I can see it. Trapped, but an assassin nonetheless. They did their job well in shaping you.”
Daniel did not take his eyes from Kelm, even though they were watering and he wanted more than anything to close them and drift into sleep. But it was vital to look like he was taking it in, like he was being convinced of Kelm’s stories. The only way out was through. But it would be easier if he didn’t have to fight for each thought his mind developed.
“How long have you been living the lies of Ni?ergeard? Since you were how old? Thirteen? Twelve? What did you give up for them? And did they give you any thanks? Any reward?”
Daniel’s vision blurred and reeled. The words thanks and reward went straight to his heart. That’s the only thing that had hurt him, and it had hurt him deeply. He wanted to be acknowledged. Deep down, he wanted to be a knight, sleeping, rising in victory to fight the final battle. .
Somewhere along the line it had gone wrong.
Kelm’s face wore an expression that Daniel might have guessed to be sympathy.
“You were nothing to them, Daniel. Do you thank a hammer once you have used it to pound in a nail? Do you thank a stick that spears a fish?”
Daniel set his jaw defiantly.
Kelm came close, close enough that Daniel could feel the hot, damp breath on his face.
“Who is with you? How many are you? What are your objectives?”
The questions snapped Daniel out of his self-pity. He had to stay strong. He had a mission here. He had failed the first directive, but there were others. Namely: find the Great Carnyx, and find Godmund.
Daniel made no reply.
Kelm just smiled in an easy, paternal way, straightened, slapped him viciously again, and then called into the darkness, “Lock him up.”
There was a heavy clinking to his right and his left arm went slack, renewing the waves of fire that swept through him. He heard himself cry out in his muffled way. Then his right went slack, and as Kelm disappeared into the darkness, the yfelgopes came to take him away.
V
Daniel had attracted a lot of attention on the way to the dungeons of Ni?ergeard. The cells under the northern part of the city had rarely been used, but they stood ready to impart damp, cold, and moldy misery.
Daniel shivered as the yfelgop hoard pushed him down a dark little corridor.
His wrists were crossed in front of him, bound in very thick and coarse rope. His eyes still weren’t as accustomed to the lack of light as the yfelgopes’ were, so he walked in near total darkness. They were pushing him quickly down the passageways-quicker than Daniel thought he could go.
“Wuh-ate. Gemmee. Minnit,” he said, staggering but not falling. He was too bound in by yfelgopes to fall over completely. One of them gave him a shove and he toppled the other way, where he was shoved roughly back into the circle again.
They kept on like that for a while, treating him like a pinball, then finally stopped. Daniel heard the sound of keys clanking and an iron lock squeak, and then he was shoved sideways into the darkness. He sprawled and hit the ground on his right side-thankfully, not his bruised left-and rolled onto his stomach.
Words were shouted at him, but through the pain he couldn’t arrange them into meaning. He lay there for a few moments, pressing the hot, throbbing side of his face against the cool, damp stone floor. Then he started to shiver, so he got up and, feeling his way awkwardly with his bound hands, found the sides and corners of the room he was in. The walls were roughly carved and, it seemed, almost perfectly cubic. There was a flat ridge opposite the narrow, iron door that ran the length of the wall. It was probably meant as a bed, but there was no matting on it.
He sat and hunched over, moaning softly, his fingers gently touching and inspecting his face. Nothing seemed to be broken, apart from his skin. It was hard to tell sweat and saliva from blood in the darkness. He moved his jaw open and from side to side to stop it from tightening up and then started probing the rest of him. Everything seemed pretty much intact, but it was hard to feel his ribs with his hands, bound as they were. He had taken quite a blow, though. How could he tell if he had a concussion? What were the tests for that? What was the treatment? He stretched out on the stone slab and closed his eyes but tried not to fall asleep.