Here I was again. A nightmare turned real as we went through the guardroom, down one flight of steps, and into Brazell’s small dungeon, which only contained eight cells, four on each side of a short corridor. Valek and I were in the two cells closest and to the left of the steps. A familiarly loud, rancid stench permeated the prison. The thick, silty air so overpowered my senses that it took me a while to realize we were the only occupants.
Unable to bear the sudden quiet, I asked, “Valek?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you fight the guards? I would have helped you.”
“Eight men had drawn swords pointed at my chest. Any sudden movement and I would have been skewered. I’m flattered that you think I could win against those odds. Four armed opponents, maybe, but eight is definitely too many.”
I could hear the amusement in Valek’s voice.
“Then we pick the locks and make our escape?” My confidence was based on the fact that Valek was a master assassin and trained fighter, a man who wouldn’t stay confined for long.
“That would be ideal, provided we had something to pick them with,” Valek replied, dashing my hopes.
I searched my cell with my hands. Finding nothing but filthy straw, rat droppings and unrecognizable muck, I sank to the floor with my back against the one stone wall I shared with Valek.
After a long moment, Valek asked, “Was that your fate? If you hadn’t killed Reyad, were you slated to be chained to the floor, mindless?”
The image of those captives burned in my mind. My flesh crawled. For the first time, I was content to have failed Reyad’s tests.
As I thought more about them, I remembered a comment Irys had made regarding a magician’s ability to steal magic from others. Finally, the significance of the women and men sitting in circles hit me. Mogkan’s extra power came from those chained captives. Brazell, Reyad and Mogkan must have screened the children of the orphanage for magical potential. Then, while experimenting on them, Mogkan had wiped their minds clean, leaving them mindless vessels from which to draw more power.
“I think Brazell and Reyad were determined to reduce me to that mental state. But I endured.” I explained my theory about the captives to Valek.
“Tell me what happened to you,” Valek said, his voice tight.
I paused. Then my tale flowed from my lips, in bits and pieces at first, but the words soon gushed with the same speed as the tears streaking down my face. I didn’t spare him any details. I didn’t gloss over the unpleasant parts. Telling Valek everything about my two years as a laboratory rat, Reyad’s tortures and torments, the cruel games, the humiliations, the beatings, the longing to be good for Reyad, and, finally, the rape that led to murder, I purged myself of the black stain of Reyad. I felt light-headed with the release.
Valek remained silent throughout my disclosure, neither commenting nor questioning. Finally, with ice crystallizing in his voice he said, “Brazell and Mogkan will be destroyed.”
Promise or a threat, I couldn’t tell, but with all of Valek’s force behind it, it was more than idle talk.
As if they had heard their names, Brazell and Mogkan stepped through the main door of the dungeon. Four guards holding lanterns escorted them. They stopped at our cells.
“It’s good to see you back where you belong,” Brazell said to me. “My desire to feel your blood on my hands has tempted me, but Mogkan has kindly informed me of your fate, should you not receive your antidote.” Brazell paused, and smiled with pure satisfaction. “Seeing my son’s killer writhing in excruciating pain will be better justice. I’ll visit later to hear your screams. And if you beg me, I might put you out of your misery, just so I can breathe in the hot scent of your blood.”
Brazell’s gaze bored into Valek’s cell. “Disobeying a direct order is a capital offense. Commander Ambrose has signed your death warrant. Your hanging is scheduled for noon tomorrow.” Brazell cocked his head, appraising Valek like a thoroughbred. “I think I shall have your head stuffed and mounted. You’ll make an effective decoration in my office when I become Commander.”
Laughing, Brazell and Mogkan left the dungeon. The darkness that flowed in after them felt even heavier than before. It pressed against my chest, giving me a tight, panicky feeling around my ribs. I paced my cell. My emotions swung from sheer terror to overwhelming despondency. I kicked at the bars, threw straw into the air and pounded on the walls.
“Yelena,” Valek finally said, “settle down. Get some sleep; you’ll need your strength for tonight.”
“Oh yeah, everyone needs to be well rested to die,” I said, but regretted my harshness when I remembered that Valek, too, faced death. “I’ll try.”
I lay on the foul straw, knowing it was futile to try and rest. How could anyone sleep her last hours away?
Apparently, I could.
I woke with a cry. My nightmare about rats melded with reality as I felt a warm, furry mass resting on my legs. Leaping to my feet, I kicked the rodent. It crashed into the wall and skittered away.
“Nice nap?” Valek asked.
“I’ve had better. My sleeping companion snored.”
Valek grunted in amusement.
“How long was I out?”
“It’s hard to tell without the sun. I’m guessing it’s close to sunset.”
I had received my last dose of antidote yesterday morning. That gave me until tomorrow morning to live, but the symptoms of the poison would take hold sometime tonight.
“Valek, I have a confess…” My throat closed. My stomach muscles contracted with such severity that I felt as if someone were trying to rip them from my body.
“What’s the matter?”
“Stomach cramp from hell,” I said, still gasping even though the pain had subsided. “Is this the start?”
“Yes. They begin slowly, but soon the convulsions will be continuous.”
Another wave of agony hit, and I crumpled to the floor. When it passed, I crawled to my straw bed, waiting for the next assault. Unable to endure the anticipation in silence, I said, “Valek, talk to me. Tell me something to distract me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t care. Anything.”
“Here’s something you can take some comfort from—there’s no poison called Butterfly’s Dust.”
“What?” I wanted to scream at him, but a doubling-over, vomit-inducing convulsion hit, causing my abdominal muscles to feel as if they were being shredded with a knife.
When I was sensible again, Valek explained, “You’re going to want to die, wish you were already dead, but in the end you’ll be quite alive.”
“Why tell me now?”
“The mind controls the body. If you believed that you were going to die, then you might have died from that conviction alone.”
“Why wait until now to tell me?” I demanded, furious. He could have relieved my anguish.
“A tactical decision.”
I bit back a nasty reply. I tried to see his logic; to put myself in his place. My training sessions with Ari and Janco had included strategy and tactics. Janco had compared sparring to a card game. “Keep your best moves close to your chest and only use them when you’ve nothing left,” he had said.
An opportunity to escape might have presented itself during the day. In that case Valek wouldn’t have to show his last card and tell me about the poison.
“What about the cramps?” I asked just as another one seized my body. I rolled into a tight ball hoping to relieve some of the pain, but to no avail.
“Withdrawal symptoms.”
“From what?”
“Your so-called antidote,” Valek said. “It’s an interesting concoction. I use it to make someone sick. As the potion wears off, it produces stomach cramps worthy of a day in bed. It’s perfect for putting someone temporarily out of commission without killing him. If you continue to drink it, then the symptoms are forestalled until you stop.”