42. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Tanead
A mon stormed into the cavern, breaking up the monotony of my life in the cage.
Day, night. I had no idea. I fantasized about the red tones of dusk, when Jupe fell below the Mother’s Womb and only Ksafa remained in the sky. But I had no idea how many dusks had passed since my capture.
I could’ve asked Kutha. We did speak to each other, the god and I. We spoke of nothings, at first, but the words didn’t matter. Each time I woke, I felt our attachment to be a bit deeper than before.
Was this how a Bond would feel? Like hooks buried in the flesh of my mind? My thoughts were no longer entirely my own. I’d never felt less alone.
Does my presence nearby strengthen you? I asked him. The cavern, once quite dim, was growing brighter. The pulsing heartbeat in the light seemed more pronounced.
I draw strength from devoted minds, yes.
Nobody is more devoted than I will be to you, I assured the god.
He chuckled. I thought he was pleased.
Tell me a story from that glorious time when you ruled this world with your brothers and sisters at your side.
There was a pause. I will tell you a truth, descendant of Riders. Are you ready for that?
I felt giddy at the offering. Oh, yes.
It was no great tragedy when Calathan Havard killed the dragons.
I was shocked into not thinking. In that moment, I felt Kutha’s hooks wiggling like worms, burrowing deeper.
The gods grew weak, infatuated by mankind. Time in the Crust has offered lessons in humility and patience. When I rise, I will not be frail and easily defeated. I will be strong, as in the early days when men were honored to burn. Back then, it was a servant’s greatest wish to serve well enough to be remembered, no matter the cost to his mortal form. Will you be a good servant to me, Tanead?
I admit the picture he painted didn’t match my boyhood image of glory: myself on the back of a great dragon, commanding him to fly where I wished and burn my enemies. But what in life matched such boyish dreams?
I will. I swear it. Just tell me how.
You must come to me. Release me. I am caught in their trap, like you. You must escape before you can serve me.
I will. I swear it.
My goals aligned perfectly with the goals of the god. My mind turned over the possibilities.
Whoever designed this prison had known how to hold Tajawls. Not for the first time, I wondered if my mother had occupied this cage before me.
If I could get out and jump into the pit, will I die?
Yes.
Damn.
But if I could get out of the cage, I could climb the rope that held me aloft and shimmy down to the wheel. It would require care and luck, but I’d take that risk.
Unfortunately, my exploration of my cage had offered no ideas about how to escape it. Even the hinges that secured the door were made of dragonstone. They were a thing of beauty that I’d spent many days studying. The only metal element on my cage was the lock, and the bars around it were too close together to allow my arm to reach through. I’d twisted myself into strange shapes, using the bars to tug my limbs as far as my joints would take them, but I still couldn’t reach it. I’d tried burning, hoping perhaps extreme heat would cause the lock to melt. No luck.
So I must escape when Amon came to torture me.
It wasn’t the number of guards that worried me. I could take on any number of men. But Amon was careful not to give me the opportunity. His men shackled me with dragonstone restraints before they opened the cage door. They surrounded me at all times with heavy batons. I’d hoped the old emperor would come to say hello. He might be less careful. But so far, the crown prince had been my only visitor. I guess the emperor no longer did his own dirty work.
So I must get past Amon. A sane man would spend his time, after deducing this, on thoughts of restraints and the number of soldiers. But I had a different idea.
I was going to get Prince Amon to release me. And I even had an inkling of how I was going to do it.
Amon’s boots stomped on the dragonstone floor and his fury radiated off him like a wave. Ever attuned to the emotions of others, I sensed it as soon as he rounded into the cavern.
I was lying as best I could on the floor of my cage. My legs ran vertically up one side and my head was tilted up the other. I rolled over awkwardly to peer down at the prince as he appeared. His rich garments were marred with road-dust and his red-blond hair looked less than clean. Not that I should judge. My scalp itched from oils and fleas.
“Let him down,” Amon snarled at the mass of stone-faced guards that flanked him.
I pressed my nose through the bars, flattening my cheeks. “Just back from the hunt, still in your road clothes, and already so angry.”
Amon’s face wore a very ugly expression. I felt a little worried and wiggled my fingers. Just in case it was the last time I could.
The guards spun the wheel and my cage lurched and dropped. It swung from the uneven motion. I was still lying down, which made it a bit dizzying. I got my feet under me and stood as tall as the cage would allow. I pressed my hand to my forehead as if I looked out on some far horizon.
“Ahoy! Land sighted ahead!” I cackled with laughter, remembering the games I’d played as a child. Dragon vs pirate. I was always the dragon but now, with a real dragon below me, I felt I might play at piracy.
“Crazy demon.” Amon cast the slur at me as my cage touched down. His gaze kept sliding over to the yawning pit nearby. Was he afraid to fall, or thinking of throwing me in?
“Land-ho!” I jumped up and down, allowing blood to move in my legs before he strapped them down.
The men ran from the wheel to either side of my cage. They reached for me with gloved hands and I stuck out my hands obediently to be shackled. I could burn, but the cage wasn’t unlocked yet. Men surrounded me with heavy clubs. If I decided to go that route, I had to choose my moment.
They maneuvered me from the cage and guided me to the prince’s table.
“Truthfully, I’m happy to see you,” I told him. “They forget I’m here, would you believe that? They leave me thirsty for days.”
Amon laughed cruelly, a sound that would’ve driven a stake of fear through the heart of a lesser man. But I knew Kutha would not let me die here. He needed me. I was his Chosen.
“There’s no water for you today.”
I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved. I was actually thirsty.
Amon picked up a cleaver from his table of implements. He dragged it theatrically along the table’s surface so it would make an ominous scratching sound. He held it up so the dim green light that flooded the chamber would catch the edge, making it shine.
The next movement was sudden, a pounce so abrupt, I didn’t see it coming. One minute I was tapping my finger on the table and the next, I was gushing blood and staring in horror at my hand, which was missing a digit. Amon drew my eyes to him as he slowly lifted the pointer finger of my dominant hand high. He held it up beside the cleaver. His angry, sneering expression had settled into a smile. He looked almost peaceful.
The finger wasn’t wiggling anymore.
The pain came after that, a roaring wave, delayed—my body’s shock mirrored my own. It took a moment to catch up.
I roared to excise the pain from my body. The site of the amputation burned sharply. Was this what fire felt like to those who could feel its heat? Twangs of agony shot through my hand like an amateur plucking the strings of an instrument. Warm blood gushed to soak my other fingers. Dizziness made my head spin. But the strangest part was the feeling that something was missing. Absent. A blank space where there should have been something, but my mind couldn’t grasp what had once been there.
Amon reached out for the hand and squeezed. The pressure on the wound made the pain explode again. I closed my eyes to watch the bursts of light behind my eyelids.
Be stronger than him. Remember, I need you. The calming voice was accompanied by a flooding of green light through my mind. It was brighter than all the explosions. I leaned into it, gasping in a breath. I’d stopped breathing, I realized, but breathing was good. I took another one. When I focused on the places where the god had gnawed into my mind, the pain in my hand hurt less.
Amon leaned over me. I felt him rather than saw him; my eyes were still closed. “Are you going to burn?” he whispered.
I should. It would cauterize my wound; I’d learned this long ago as a child, when I’d suffered minor injuries. Though my body was wounded, my mind was clear enough to call on the magic. I could do it.
But it was what Amon wanted. If I gave in, I'd lose leverage and I needed all I had to make him free me so I could help Kutha.
“Nah,” I said. Trying to sound casual. But I was parched from screaming. I’d been screaming, I realized.
“Oh no? And why is that?”
“You want me to.”
I blinked open my eyes. The high ceiling of the cavern still twirled and twisted above me like a dancer.
Amon was smiling. “Yes, I do. I’m curious, I admit it. Would it close the wound?”
“Yes.”
“Glorious. It would give me the opportunity to cut it open again without taking another finger. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I couldn’t say that it did, no.
I gathered my bravery and glanced at my hand. He’d taken most of the finger but there was still a nub left above the knuckle.
“Only nine more to go,” Amon said. He sounded regretful.
“I have toes, too.” I said it just to seem brave to myself.
“And a cock.”
It jumped in my pants at being threatened.
It won’t come to that, Kutha promised.
I wondered how he knew.
“You missed quite a hunt,” Amon said. Taking my finger seemed to have settled him down. He pulled himself into a seated position, leaning against my hip. He tossed my finger from one hand to the other, splattering his dirtied robes with blood.
“Hunting with birds is for cowards.” I had to gasp the words out, but they focused me on something other than how much blood I was losing.
“Oh, I quite agree. But Caelan wouldn’t. My dear brother is an altayr.” He delivered this casually, but could not hide the rage beneath the words. He then looked at me immediately, to see if I’d known.
I thought quickly. Should I act shocked? Disinterested? But my mind was sluggish. The pain in my hand drew my focus. He saw the truth on my face.
“You knew!” he crowed.
I tried to shrug but the movement was weak. “How do you think he captured me? He’s not such a good swordsman.”
“Many soldiers respect him. They say he is.”
“I’m better,” I croaked.
“You know, if you’d told me during our last visit together, you might still have all your fingers.”
“Ask the right questions next time.” My words were brash but my tone was weak.
“All right. Here’s a question for you, demon. What else do you know about my dear brother?” His hand came down and he used my own finger to caress the longest one that remained on my hand.
I shivered at the sick violation. At the unspoken promise. But the other thing I knew about Caelan was too great a secret to barter with now. Such a secret could earn me my freedom, if I handled it in the right way.
“I can tell you about the priestess.”
Amon scoffed and hopped off the table. He threw my finger away. “Oh, I know all about her. Raven Rosa, daughter of the Traitor.”
It was my turn to be shocked. In four cycles together, I’d never learned her name. I hadn’t cared, either, thinking it unimportant. How wrong I was.
Amon sensed my surprise. “You didn’t know?” he scoffed. “Then what did you plan to tell me?”
I thought quick, wanting to give him something good. One finger was enough for today. The pain was fading into a dull beat in the background of my hand, though blood was still flowing. I felt weaker and weaker. I might have to burn if Amon didn’t staunch the bleeding with wrappings.
“She pretends she was my slave, but she was no slave. She came to me freely and offered herself into my service. She wanted to see the dragons reborn so that they’d end your family’s reign. She hates Slayers as fervently as any demon. She wants nothing more than to kill you all.”
“Of course. She’s the Traitor’s daughter. Four cycles together…is that really all you learned?” My captor looked more than disappointed—he looked pitying.
I cast my mind about for more, but I realized how little I knew the woman whose council I’d mistakenly trusted.
“She’s friendly with that priest who was in her room at Archeon. Very friendly. I heard them talking alone.”
Amon considered this, but soon shrugged off its importance in favor of something more interesting. “Did you at least fuck her? How was she?”
“I never did.”
Amon snorted. His expression asked what kind of prince I was, anyway. “Why not?”
I wasn’t here to get into such personal details. “I need a favor,” I said, although I didn't really. I could burn—I was sure of it. But I wanted to try one last time to get out of it.
Amon laughed. “Oh? How may I serve you, Heir Tajawl?”
“I’m going to need you to stop my bleeding.”
“Hmm.” He bent over the wound. “Yes, it is copious, isn’t it? It wouldn’t do for you to die. So burn.”
I gritted my teeth and said nothing.
That got his mind working. “You can't, can you? How injured is too injured?” he asked himself. I saw the cogs of his mind turning. Perhaps I could look forward to lesser torture next time, as he sought to determine the line.
“I’ll make you a deal, Prince Amon.”
He laughed, but then waited. He enjoyed playing with his prey.
“Cauterize my wound for me and I’ll tell you a story.”
“You prefer the cautery to wrapping?” he said.
“Wrapping lets in toxins.”
"You want it cauterized, do it yourself."
He was close to believing me—I could see it in his eyes. I wanted to teach him I had a weakness that I did not. It could be invaluable someday. "I can't," I lied. I felt ashamed at even pretending failure. It was pathetic. Unnatural. I wanted to roar, to go up in flames and take Prince Amon down with me. But my shame was what made him believe in the pretend.
“Stories are for children,” he said, but he sent a man to fetch a torch.
“Not this one.”
“Go on.”
It was good how friendly we were with each other. Next time, I promised myself and Kutha. Today was for laying the groundwork. I tried not to let my pain distract me from this purpose.
“Once upon a time, there was a queen. She was the last hope of the Riders, whose dragons were long dead. But this woman believed she could bring them back.”
“Oh, a fanciful story,” Amon said drolly. “If you irritate me too much, demon, I’ll take another finger.”
“She found an egg and threw it into the Mother’s Womb. In preparation for the return of her gods, she united her people against the Slayers who had once killed them. But before the god could hatch, she was captured by the emperor. She was brought to this very underworld.”
“So-called ‘Queen’ Ead Tajawl. I know my history. Are you really telling me a story about your mommy right now? Is that what the pain has done to you?”
I tried to level a piercing stare at Amon, though I was fading fast. “Do you, Prince? Do you know your history very well?”
Amon leaned over, his face alive with hunger, his eyes gleaming. "I know what I overheard when I was a child. Tell me why the Traitor wanted my brother, demon. Do you know that?"
"I do," I teased. Although I knew nothing about the Traitor or his motives, what I did know about Caelan would be enough to buy my passage out of here, if I played my hand right. All Amon needed to do was let me finish my story. He was a terrible listener.
Blackness crept in at the corners of my vision, replacing the green light that illuminated the cavern. “Next time, ask me the right questions…”
The last thing I saw before passing out was my torturer’s face. He wasn’t even looking at me, which was just rude. His eyes had been caught by the pit. His lips moved subtly but no sound came out.
He better not be talking to Kutha. Kutha was my dragon.