15. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Caelan
K safa was rising as we reached the river crossing. Her clear pale light cut through the smoke on the far side, illuminating the carcasses of men and beasts and buildings.
I glanced at Eave for her reaction but her face was still. It suggested she’d seen worse. Maybe she had, but had she smelled worse? The lingering sulfur scent that the dragon’s birth had left in the air combined now with the thick tang of ash and burnt bodies.
Shouts rang out as we appeared from behind a shard of glass at the river’s edge. At least Amon had put men on watch. Or maybe these men followed orders Junaid had given before he’d left.
At that thought, the spear in my heart twisted and fresh guilt flooded up from its depths. I was coming home but Junaid and Joab never would. Baris and Broker and Nahome were lost. Sure, two prisoners trailed behind me, but my return was anything but triumphant.
The river was so shallow here that Ufuk could cross without risk. Walking, the water came up to my waist, and Eave was soaked to the neck when we reached the other side.
I allowed her to walk freely, though I had some concern that the current would sweep her delicate body downstream. But her expression was set and she looked only forward, wading towards the opposite bank like a woman approaching battle.
“Demonhunter,” Commander Idris said when I stepped once more into the Empire of Vaharilar. He bowed neatly, as did the men with him. I recognized each of them as high-ranking commanders. Idris was Junaid's second—he was High Commander now, though he didn't know it yet. We'd traveled together throughout Vaharilar hunting demons who snuck over the border and knew each other well. Idris' salt-and-pepper hair was always tied in a neat bun on the back of his head. A scar across his cheek blended with wrinkles brought on early by exposure to the suns.
I gave Idris leave to rise and his eyes slipped quickly over my prisoners and behind me, searching the fractured land for the rest of my party.
“Just me,” I said quietly. “Any others return already?”
"No," Idris said frankly. If he was calculating his new position, it didn't show in his face. He wasn't one of the sycophants of my father's court who cared for nothing but the rise of his own status. I'd heard him say before that he would decline any promotion that took him off the field, because he'd rather kill demons himself than tell other men how to kill them.
"Who's here?" I asked. I needed to get back to Archeon as quickly as I could. If the members of my party crossed the river somewhere else, that's where they'd go.
"Us, a few others the High Commander charged with watch duty. And—" Idris hesitated, his expression growing shrouded. He was a good man. Not one to approve of the cruel games of violence and pain the Havards liked to play. But too smart to say so, too.
“Amon," I supplied.
"Yes, Demonhunter. The crown prince awaits you with a few of his Widowmakers." He pointed southeast. Though the land here was charred and silent, screams and whoops filtered into my ears from that direction.
That'd be right. Few men knew of our mission and the awakening of the Firecap Mountains. Of them, Amon was the most likely to burn a village for sport.
“Come on,” I said to Eave.
Damn the Father, I wanted to skip this and go straight on to Archeon. I was out of poppy and Tajawl might wake at any time. I wanted to see him in a cell before he did.
But I couldn’t fail to greet my brother and announce my return. In the hierarchy that kept emperors on their thrones, I was nothing next to Amon. A needless second. An extra. Amon would be emperor.
The carnage assaulted my senses as we walked deeper into the ruined village. Gallows had been erected and a pile of burnt bodies lay beside them. Flies picked at charred bones.
I glanced at Eave again. She still wouldn’t look at me but her face was sickened, as if she fought down nausea. She breathed heavily through her nose, her lips pinched tightly shut.
“You see?” I wanted to say to her. “You should not have come.” But I held my tongue. She’d learn soon enough.
Behind the gallows were the crosses where villagers deemed traitors to their race had been whipped until they were dead. They were empty now, thank the Father. Amon always moved through like a storm—fast and destructive.
"Were they harboring demons?" I asked Idris. I'd given him Ufuk's reins.
He shrugged. "About standard. A handful of halfling kids and the fuckers who sired them."
Common enough in the Borderlands, though the crime of consorting with the demons was serious enough to justify our cyclical raids throughout the territory. My brother needed even less excuse.
And there he was, my brother. His honey-red hair was plastered to his head with sweat, his pale skin reddened from exertion and Jupe’s unforgiving light. His was the classic Havardian coloring while my darker skin was courtesy of my mother’s eastern heritage. A glance at Amon's ice-blue eyes showed me he was high off the blood sport he enjoyed with the tortured woman between his legs.
The ground where he rutted had been churned to mud by boots and hooves. Amon’s knees and hands were coated with it, but the mess on him was nothing compared to the filth on the woman beneath him.
Mud coated her skin, thick as tar. She was a halfling, I saw, but the short horns on her head had been sheared off. Her hair was pressed to her head in thick tangles. She wailed, the sound a low, anguished moan that awakened my rage and boiled my blood. When her sobs faded in volume, Amon swept his short dagger blade across her back to make her scream again. The scar on my back itched.
Like the others of my bloodline, I hungered for a taste of violence with my pleasure. The desperate sounds of pain and brokenness aroused me. But this? It only made me feel sick.
I wanted a woman to kneel willingly and beg me for the pain I longed to give, the words tumbling from her lips in aroused desperation. I wanted her breath to quicken in pleasure and delicious fear, as Eave’s had…
I shook that thought away.
Over Amon’s shoulder, a priest of the Temple of Divine Right looked on. I didn’t know the man but he wore, like all priests, a full-length robe of bright emerald. The hem was stained with blood. The Temple taught that the torture and murder of demons was the Father’s divine will.
Amon looked up and saw me. “Caelan!” he called out. He opened his arms wide to welcome me home, his fingers dark with mud and blood.
My own blood thrummed, hot as fire, its lust for violence awakened by my brother’s depravity. But I had no desire to hurt the halfling woman. I wanted to hurt him . To hear the metal of my scimitar sing as it clashed against his. To shove his face in the dirt and carve his skin up with the sharp point of the woman’s lost horns.
But I could never do it. For an Havard to kill another was treason.
Sure, Amon had hurt me when we were children. He always was good at knowing just how much he could get away with. If I hadn’t grown so big and strong, he probably wouldn't have stopped. But I knew he would never kill me. As I could never kill him. Loyalty to family was baked into everything we were taught from the moment we were born. Our house motto was ‘Bound in Blood.’ If it weren’t, our house of sadist emperors would’ve died off generations ago.
Besides this, there was only one other rule we held sacred: Don’t take what belongs to another Havard. After all, there’s no better way to start a war with a possessive man than to take what’s his.
These two rules had kept our family in power for a thousand cycles.
This tortured woman was Amon’s prize. I had no right to free her. I should leave it alone. I needed to get to Archeon to secure Tajawl and find out if Baris, Broker, and Nahome had returned. From there, I must rush home to report to my father. Amon could get in my way. But he usually didn't bother if I stayed out of his.
And yet I stepped forward.
“Brother.” I tried to sound pleased to see him. “It’s good to be somewhere civilized again. Come have a drink with me. I’m dry as that damned desert.”
“Burnt down the pub,” Amon said. His hips still thrust forward, his knife still carved gashes across her skin.
I wanted to make sure Eave wasn’t about to launch at him and try to kill him with her bare hands, but I kept my attention fixed on Amon, instead. I couldn’t risk drawing his attention to her.
I forced a laugh. “Don’t pretend you’ve abstained since you burnt this place. There must be good wine somewhere.”
“Just ale that tastes like piss,” Amon said. His eyes flashed and I got the feeling that he knew what I was trying to do. He was deliberately toying with me.
My voice hardened. “Then I’ll go straight on to Archeon.” I tilted my head towards Tajawl, still sprawled across Ufuk’s back. I’d rather keep him from Amon’s notice, but he might be enough to draw my brother’s attention from his torture. “I have a prisoner for the cells.”
Amon didn’t even glance at Tajawl. His eyes slid instead in the exact direction I did not wish them to go—right to Eave. They locked on her and he smiled.
Unlike me, Amon played no games of disguise. Rattles shivered a death promise in his gaze. He lounged often, lean muscles slack; then suddenly he would lunge with wild reckless motions. Those nearest to him would stumble back, startled, their eyes seeking his sword and finding it still sheathed in his belt. Then that cruel smile would carve up his face. Red lips, always dry and peeling, spread to display perfect white teeth. He’d laugh, a cold sound like wind through a hollow bell. And yet, when the snake did bite, sinking his teeth into some political opponent through some clever maneuvering behind the scenes, the victim was always surprised. As if we all lived so constantly with the ever-present danger of him that we were lulled into thinking it was faked. For what snake would show its true nature so frankly?
“More than one prize,” he said.
My stomach lurched. Desperation to keep Eave from Amon rose up inside me, screaming, and I struggled to swallow it back and maintain my illusion of calm.
The eyes of the men around us went to her and a collective gasp rose up. It wasn’t at the tattered wet garments that hid her body or the waves of her dirty hair. Her eyes were like torches.
“My, my,” Amon said as he looked her over. “And what a prize she is.”
“Nothing compared to the other one,” I said, trying and failing to draw Amon’s attention to Tajawl.
“A Touched demon?” the priest said. He knelt in the muck to Kiss the Crust with more grace than I would have expected from a man of my father’s age. His body was thin almost to the point of sickliness. He wore a turban wrapped around his head and a pointed beard that gave his face an even narrower appearance.
“I’m no demon,” Eave said, her voice wavering, so much less self-assured than it had been in Los.
My brother was delighted. “Where’d you find her, Cael?”
“She traveled with the party of demons who attacked us. He—” I indicated Tajawl once again “—is their prince.”
“And she is his ally?” The priest Kissed the Crust again. Damned superstitious man. Temple priests craved possession of the Touched almost as much as they feared their power. I’d always figured they were jealous that the Touched were closer to the Father—to all the dead gods—than the priests could ever dream of.
“Their slave,” I corrected.
Eave’s eyes darted to me. Did she regret her decision to put herself at my mercy? I didn’t feel for her if she did. I’d tried to tell her to turn back.
“What’s your name?” Amon asked her.
I nearly scoffed. Amon had never cared about a woman’s name in his life. What game was he playing?
“I am a priestess,” Eave said. “It is what I am called. Is it not enough?”
Amon’s smile grew even bigger. “A woman who does not even claim a name. I must say, Brother, you’re not the greatest of gift-givers, but today you’ve outdone yourself.”
The roar in my ears was wind that could topple a fortress. Stones crashed and shattered inside my mind. There was no space for breath, no space for counting.
I was suddenly very aware that I was bare-chested while Amon wore a breastplate lazily strapped over his tunic. His pants were off entirely, his cock still buried in the halfling woman, though he’d mercifully stopped cutting into her skin with his knife. He wasn’t even thrusting anymore. Eave had wholly captured his attention. His weapon was discarded on the ground nearby. Around him ranged a few of his Widowmakers, including his greatest ally, the reliable goon Aagha Ziball.
But if I drew on Amon, then what? I’d be branded a traitor and have no home to go back to. I had to find a way out of this with words.
I hardly knew which ones I said. I couldn’t hear my own voice over the buzzing in my ears. “I’m glad you think our father will be pleased with the demon prince’s capture. I did hope so.”
Amon laughed. “Oh, surely, he will. But I meant your present for me, dear brother. I’ve never had priestess before.”
The priest beside him coughed. “Excuse me, honored Crown Prince, but I believe the Temple of Divine Right is the most suitable owner of the priestess. It is traditional for the Temple to be caretakers for those who are Touched by the Father.”
“Caretake away, Priest Farad,” Amon said. He didn’t take his eyes off Eave. “She’ll need caretaking when I’m done with her.”
Priest Farad pursed his lips, but could say nothing. None of us could, not when Amon had claimed the girl as his own. So why was my mouth opening? Why were my feet moving me forward?
“She’s mine,” I said. My heart was racing faster than my head was thinking.
Amon’s eyes flashed. “Yours?” he said. Quiet and dangerous. And mocking, too. “Brother, you’ve never claimed a prize in your life.”
“Well then I’m sure you won’t begrudge me my first.” I held my chin high and stared him down. I was twice his weight and taller, but nobody watching had any doubt as to who had more power.
“I wouldn’t if I believed you would take her.” He smiled a little, and I knew he was enjoying this. My public humiliation.
He began to thrust into the halfling woman again. Her fingers clutched the mud as if it could pull her away from him into another world. Sobs wracked her body but they were quiet and empty now, not like her wails from before.
I forced my attention to stay on Amon.
“What else would I do with my prize?” I asked.
Amon laughed. “Cael, please. You’ll do what you always do. Retreat.” He called to the men ranged around him. “Who hasn’t seen the shadow of his hand moving feverishly in his tent while we all enjoy ourselves?”
Aagha and the others laughed loudly and my face burned. My fist clenched—the habit of a soldier—and my brother saw and smiled widely.
I could not draw on him. No matter what he said or did, I could never draw on him. I could only speak back, and I had no idea what to say. Amon knew that sounds of torture sometimes aroused me and yet I did nothing, and so he knew me a coward. He knew I never claimed what I wanted. Shame heated my cheeks.
Well, not this time.
“This woman is mine. I claim her as my companion in the ancient tradition of our line.” I heard myself saying the words and was surprised I remembered the ancient ritual words that claimed a woman as property.
Generations had passed since they were used. They elevated a slave to a position akin to wife, and there was never a woman who mattered enough to my father or Amon (or my grandfather, or his) to use them.
But Amon knew what they meant. We’d learned our histories together. Four hundred and thirty cycles ago, a crown prince was executed for raping his younger brother’s companion, a woman claimed with the very words I’d just spoken.
They were a call to war, and Amon and I both knew it.
My brother smiled, but it was feral. All teeth.
I tried to smile back—a stupid smile that would make me look like a boy playing a game with no understanding of what he’d just done. I didn’t manage it. I’d never been good at games of politics and deception.
Cunning crept into Amon’s eyes as he watched my poor attempt. Before I could speak again—not that I knew what I'd say—Amon reached his knife around the front of the halfling woman’s neck and slit her throat.
His cock was still in her as my fury roared like a wild animal. Amon groaned in pleasure as her body collapsed into the fetid pool of tar and spurting blood. He pumped his load into her but the whole time, his eyes stayed on me.
This was my fault. My obvious qualms had only secured a worse fate for this woman than she might otherwise have suffered. If I lost control of Eave for even a single moment, Amon would ensure that the same thing happened to her. And that, too, would be my fault.
Amon detached himself from the corpse and swaggered over. He moved like a lion in his half-nakedness, the curves of his lean muscles taut as he took his lazy steps. Every one might be a precursor to sudden violence.
He grasped my shoulder with his bloody hand, imprinting the shape of his palm on my bare flesh. He smelt of iron mixed with a cocktail of acrid sweat and smoke. The vast rectangular scar on my back twitched at his closeness. Old memories surfaced, as they always did when he was near, and my fingers twitched with the itch to strangle him.
It would be so easy. I could break his neck before any of his Widowmakers reached us. Once they did, I’d have the pleasure of killing those sick sons of bitches too.
But Amon was my brother. I couldn’t kill him. And he couldn’t kill me, though I’d thought often that he wanted to. Maybe once he was emperor, he’d make it look like an accident.
Amon leaned in close. “Where’s the rest of your party?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but he spoke loudly over me so that all the others could hear.
“I’ve never led men outside our borders myself, but it seems that part of the idea is to return with the men you went with. Is that not right?”
Aagha snickered.
I wanted to seem unconcerned and make light of my failure, but Junaid’s face as it drained of blood stopped me. “Yes,” I admitted. “The quake hit us in the sands and we were ambushed. We suffered losses.”
“You don’t know where the rest of them are, do you, Brother?” The small party of Widowmakers that observed us allowed Amon to needle me this way. He wouldn’t be quite so bold before a larger group. Havards had to make a show of standing together before our people.
“I know only of those surely lost. With sorrow, I report the passing of my personal guard, Joab Coy, and of High Commander Fakoury.”
Amon stilled at the latter name. He blinked once, twice. The name had penetrated even his unfeeling heart. “Fuck. What happened?”
Sweat coated my hands. “The demons attacked as the land fractured. Our party was separated. Joab and Lord Fakoury and I fought five demons. Lord Fakoury saved my life before his throat was slit.” The lie felt thick on my tongue.
Amon’s gaze shifted to Tajawl. “Was it him?”
“Yes,” I lied, “but it’s the least of his crimes. This is Heir Tanead Tajawl. He’s as close to a king as they have in Los.”
Amon glowered as he finally realized the prince’s importance. “Father will be pleased,” he clipped. “Still, a pity for you to suffer such losses on your very first command.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’d like to get to Archeon as soon as possible. Some of my party may have made their way back there on their own.”
Amon shrugged. “I’m done here. But wouldn’t you rather rest?” His eyes slid to Eave and his mocking smile returned. “I’m sure you want to enjoy your new companion as soon as possible.”
I refused to let my jaw clench as I counted the spacing of my blinks. This is what I practiced in the mirror—unfeeling blankness. The armor of court, a mask hiding the rage beneath.
“She can wait until Archeon.”
“Of course she can,” Amon said with syrupy fakeness. His eyes danced with concealed laughter as he squeezed my shoulder before he dropped his hand and wandered away with sinuous, smooth steps. He called back over his shoulder. “Consider her a welcome home present from me to you, Brother. You owe me one.”
I turned my eyes to Eave as I seethed to find her watching me with a bird’s uncanny stillness.
She ought to thank me. In claiming her as my personal companion, I’d saved her from Amon and given her what she’d asked me for—a proper place in the court of Vaharilar.
Don’t pretend it was selfless. You claimed her because you want to hurt her yourself.
Now I could. I could do anything I wanted to Eave.
I imagined her looking up at me from her knees. Metal chains adorned her wrists and ankles and a collar lay heavy around her neck. But despite the seeming helplessness of her position, the woman I hungered for did not wish to be free. If I unlocked the chains that bound her, she would only crawl to me and beg me for more. Was that woman Eave?
Soon I would find out.