Chapter 15 Maximus #3
White-hot agony exploded through my left leg as the massive timber pinned me to the deck. My scream echoed through the burning ship. Through a haze of pain, I saw a figure approaching—Eric, silhouetted against the flames. He knelt beside me, his face impassive as he surveyed my trapped leg.
“Help me,” I gasped, reaching for him. “Please.”
For a moment, something like regret flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by cold resolve.
“I’m sorry it came to this, Max,” he said, rising to his feet. “Truly.”
“Eric, don’t—”
The sound of another ship approaching cut me off—the distinctive engines of a Sunada sentinel vessel. Eric’s head snapped up.
“Perfect timing,” he murmured.
Through the shattered windows, I glimpsed the Windcutter pulling away, retreating into the crimson mist. Captain Vex had gotten what she came for—our cargo, our weapons, and whatever payment Eric had promised her.
A cold smile played at Eric’s lips as he straightened his uniform, transforming back into the respectable naval officer.
He turned away, leaving me pinned and bleeding as he strode toward the approaching rescue.
Minutes later, Sunada officers swarmed our dying vessel. Eric stood among them, pointing in my direction as he spoke urgently.
“—mastermind behind it all,” I heard him say.
“Lieutenant Commander Blackwood orchestrated everything. The smuggling, the classified information sold to pirates. I tried to stop him when I discovered the truth, but he’d turned half the crew against me.
And now most of them are dead. May the goddesses bless their souls. ”
The officers’ faces hardened as they looked down at me. One of them—a captain by his insignia—nodded grimly.
“Treason against the kingdom,” he declared. “We’ll make an example of him.”
Eric’s eyes met mine one last time. There was no love there, no remorse—only the cold satisfaction of a man who’d successfully rewritten the narrative to suit his purposes.
“Take him away.”
My mind reeled, unable to process the depth of this final betrayal. The man I’d loved—had given everything to—was erasing me as easily as wiping chalk from a slate. All our whispered promises, our shared dreams—none of it had meant anything to him. I had been a convenient tool, nothing more.
The pain in my chest eclipsed even the agony in my crushed leg. The silver ring felt like a brand on my finger now. With the last of my strength, I slid it off, tossing it as far as my feeble arm could throw it.
As the officers moved to free me from the crushing weight of the mast, the pain overwhelmed me. Darkness closed in, sweeping away both the physical agony and the deeper wound of betrayal.
The final thing I saw was Eric’s face.
A sledgehammer of pain shot through my head. My mouth tasted of ash, and my body felt trampled.
The room swam into focus—stone walls, iron bars, a flickering lantern. A prison cell. I tried to sit up, and agony lanced through my leg.
My leg.
The flashback hit—me, strapped to an operating table, screaming at the surgeon not to cut it off.
Please, please, please, please, please.
I threw back the thin blanket. Where my left leg should’ve been was nothing but a bandaged stump, cut off midway down my thigh. A pathetic gasp tore from my throat.
“Ah, you’re awake.” A voice came from beyond the bars. “Surgeon said you might not make it.”
I looked up to see a guard watching me, keys jangling at his belt. He was young, with kind eyes out of place in this setting.
“Where am I?” My voice came out as a rasp.
“Embergate Military Prison. Highkeep Tower.” He approached, offering water through the bars. “I’m Ben. I’ll be watching you most nights.”
I took the water with shaking hands, spilling half before drinking. “How long have I been here?”
“Two days. They brought you in half-dead, leg crushed beyond saving.” Ben seemed almost apologetic. “Surgeon took it off right away. Said gangrene would’ve got you otherwise.”
Two days since The Valiant fell. Since Eric betrayed us all. Since he condemned me to this fate.
“The crew?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben shook his head. “Aside from the captain, there’s only four survivors, including you. Though the others are being treated as witnesses, not prisoners.”
“And Captain Cunningham?” His name tasted like poison.
“A hero, they’re saying. Uncovered a treasonous plot within his own ship, fought valiantly when the pirates attacked.” Ben leaned closer. “Between us, he’s been given a commendation.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. Of course he had. Eric always landed on his feet.
“You need to eat.” Ben pushed a tray through the slot. “And you’ll need this.” He passed a crude wooden stick through the bars. “Not much of a cane, but better than nothing.”
I stared at the stick, reality crashing down. I would never walk normally again. Never run, never climb rigging. The leg I’d lost was the least of what Eric had taken from me.
“Your trial’s in four days,” Ben continued. “Quick proceedings for treason cases.”
“Treason?” I croaked.
“Selling Imperial secrets to pirates. Smuggling contraband. Conspiracy against the crown.” Ben ticked off the charges. “They found documents at your home residence. Correspondence with pirates, payment records. Damning stuff.”
He’d planted evidence. Eric had thought of everything.
“What’s the sentence for treason?”
Ben’s expression said it all. “Public execution. They’ll make an example of you.”
I closed my eyes, head falling back against the cold stone. So this was how it ended. Not in glorious battle, but as a traitor, a cautionary tale.
“I didn’t do it,” I said quietly.
Ben shifted uncomfortably. “They all say that.”
“I know.”
A silence fell, broken only by distant prison sounds—metal doors clanging, guards calling to one another.
“The ship,” I finally asked. “What happened to The Valiant?”
“Crashed in the wastelands beyond the Crimson Isles. Nothing worth salvaging.”
And with it, any evidence that might have cleared my name. The journal documenting Eric’s activities, the cargo manifests I’d annotated—all gone.
“Your captain—” Ben began.
“He’s not my captain,” I cut him off.
“He visited yesterday while you were unconscious. Left this for you.” Ben produced a small object.
My silver ring. The one Eric had given me months ago, returned as a final mockery.
I took it, feeling its weight. Once, it had represented everything I thought we shared. Now it was just cold metal.
“Said it was yours,” Ben added. “That you’d want it back.”
I closed my fist around it, overcome with the urge to hurl it against the wall. Instead, I slipped it into my pocket.
“How did you end up here?” I asked. “Guarding traitors seems a poor assignment.”
Ben shrugged. “Family tradition. Not much choice in Embergate if you’re common-born. It’s serve the nobles or starve.”
“And how is that service treating you?”
“Better than most. Three meals a day, a roof overhead.” He lowered his voice. “Though between us, the nobles get fatter while we tighten our belts. My sister works in the fluxstone refineries. Twelve hours a day, barely enough pay for rent and food.”
I nodded, thinking of the slums I’d seen. Eric had been right about one thing—the system was broken. But his solution had been just as corrupt.
“But my sister says at least she wasn’t born a fluxweaver like her best childhood friend was,” Ben continued. “Plugged in like a sack of meat until you die? I’d throw myself into the mouth of a sea serpent before I’d let them do that to me.”
I hummed, suddenly feeling very tired.
“Of course, they say House Eldritch is the worst,” he added. “Begging your pardon, sir, since you served them. But the stories we hear—people work until they drop dead, bodies tossed out like garbage.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” I gestured to my missing leg. “Loyalty to Eldritch didn’t save me.”
Ben straightened, resuming his professional demeanor. “I should continue my rounds. Try to eat something, sir.”
As he turned to leave, I called after him. “Ben. Thank you. For the cane. And the conversation.”
He nodded, sympathy crossing his features. “I’ll be back. Try to rest.”
Left alone, I stared at my stump, reality sinking in like a physical weight. I was crippled, imprisoned, condemned to die for crimes I didn’t commit.
Anger came then, hot and sudden, burning away the fog of despair. Anger at Eric for his betrayal. At myself for my blindness. At the system that would execute me without question.
Ben returned hours later, carrying something beneath his jacket.
“Thought you might need this,” he said, passing a flask through the bars. “Not much, but it might help with the pain.”
The flask contained cheap whiskey. I took a grateful swallow, welcoming the warmth that spread through my chest.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
“My brother served under you. Matthew Price? On the Dauntless. Said you were the only officer who treated common aeronauts like people. That you saved his life in battle.”
A blurry image of a teenage boy swirled in my mind. “What happened to him?”
“Died last winter. Broke his back and had to leave the fleet. Then got flux-lung from working the refineries.” Ben’s expression hardened. “Nobody even cared when he died.”
I offered the flask back, but he shook his head. “Keep it. I’m on duty.”
As he walked away, I took another swallow. Four days until my trial. Four days until I was sentenced to die for Eric’s crimes.
“Wake up!” A harsh whisper cut through my sleep. “Lieutenant Commander, wake up now!”
I jolted awake to find Ben’s face pressed close to the bars, his expression tense.
“What time is it?” I mumbled.
“Just past three. Someone’s here to see you.”
A slight figure stepped into view—a young woman in civilian clothes, her dark hair tucked under a cap.
“Torres?” I whispered in disbelief.
“Sir.” She approached the bars, eyes darting to check the corridor. “Good to see you alive.”
“Are you alright?”