Divided (68 page)

Calis shook his head, his eyes rested on his mother coldly. 
“Have you seen him, Mother?  Have you seen the prince?” Calis asked.  His words
were cool, as though he was speaking without his heart, only with a burning
hatred that had separated itself from him.  That was how he felt he was
speaking—despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but
hatred for the woman before him.

“What?” she breathed.  “No.  I just…”

A few more tears escaped Calis’s eyes, and he turned away
from her again.  He stared at one of the three pieces of his broken bed.  He
ought to have torn it a few more times, he thought.  His lips pressed into a
thin line, and he took a breath.  “Go see him, then.  Go look into his eyes—and
tell me what you’ve just said again.  Tell me that I’m wrong.  Until then, I
won’t talk to you—and if you don’t get out of this room, I can’t promise that
harm won’t come to you.”

“If that is what you want,” Claudia said softly.  “Calis…”

“Go,” he growled.  He couldn’t believe that she was standing
in here under threat of physical harm.  Perhaps his mother was more of a man
than his brother and father were.  They would never have risked it, not without
a weapon, and Claudia did not have one of those.

“You will speak to me when I return?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he snarled.

“They each abandoned everything to achieve the one thing
they wanted most.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.ii

Taeru had never wanted to do anything so much as he wanted
to curl up.  His entire body had been forced into such stretched, exposed
positions, that he wanted nothing more than to pull himself into a ball to make
it stop.  That, or just get one moment out of this perpetual darkness caused by
his blindfold.  Lavus, and in his absence, Tareth—had not relented.  Not once,
not for a singular moment, and Taeru wasn’t sure how long he’d been down here. 
Though, he was sure that none of the torture compared to how humiliating being
force fed by these people had been. 

Now, though, his limbs were once again spread-eagled over
another metal device.  His hands and feet were resting on a surface, as was his
back, and the side of his face was pressed against the metal—since he’d found
himself unable to keep it upright, but his arms and legs were suspended,
straightened by the position in which his body was placed.  Tareth pressed down
on one of his arms, and though Taeru was still blinded, he knew the hand enough
to know it was Tareth’s.  “You know, Taeru,” Tareth said amicably, “if your
father could see how incredibly pathetic you look, I doubt he’d care at all
about the messenger my father sent to tell him where you are. 

Panic pushed against Taeru.  A messenger—so Lavus had sent a
messenger to Veyron to try and provoke him. 
He won’t… he would have to know
not to do this.  I left—I’m not his son any longer.  Apparently, I never was. 
Father, please… don’t do this.  Ignore it.  Don’t be a fool. 
He hadn’t
been able to find his voice for a long time, but he found it then.  “Why?” he
asked hoarsely.  “Why would you do that?  You can’t win.  You’re being
manipulated.  Cathalar would destroy you.  Leave them alone.”

A pain exploded along his elbow, a strange, shattering feeling
bouncing up and down his arm.  A blunt object, strong and hard, had struck him,
and the pain reverberated through his body .  “You stupid, little fool, we will
destroy Cathalar.”  Lavus was speaking again.

“No, you won’t,” he choked.  Another blow rocked that same
elbow.  He heard the strange cracking sound, and he worked to ignore it.  His
breath was once again evading him, and he desperately wanted to squirm.  “You
won’t!  You don’t need me to tell you that you don’t have the army for it. 
You’ve been pushing Veyron for years—without any hope of winning—Lavus, think
about it.  You aren’t a fool!  Don’t act like one!”  Another blow.  This wasn’t
working, he informed himself helpfully.  A cry actually forced itself from his
throat.

His bones were the last things that his body had intact, he
thought.  After the past bout of torture, Taeru’s skin was a bloody mess. 
Whips, chains, knives—every single one of them had been dragged across his skin
in some attempt to perforate his defense—to gain information.  He had remained
unwaveringly silent, though, and he would continue.  His joints were so
stretched from having been unable to bend that they were of little use to him. 
His senses were beginning to betray him, with blurring vision and ringing
ears.  And now Lavus intended to break his bones—lovely. 

Without provocation, another force exploded across his other
elbow.  He whimpered against it, having been caught entirely unawares.  “Stop
preaching like a decrepit old man, and tell me what I want to know.  You’re
dying, Taeru—we all know that.  Give me the information I require so I can end
this.  If Cathalar is really so prepared as you say, then you shouldn’t mind
giving me a few advantages—after all, you claim to be so righteous and
selfless.”  Taeru had never claimed to be either of those things.

“No!” he cried.  “No, if I give you the information—you’ll
just be more deluded!  You’ve seen Cathalar guards, you’ve seen scouts—you know
how powerful they are.  Lavus, why do you want to shed pointless blood?”  The
force against his elbow made him dizzy with pain, blood amalgamated in his
throat, and he coughed, splattering it across the metal that his head rested
on. “Please,” he moaned.

This time, the blow was against his knee, and he couldn’t
contain the agonized scream that tore from his throat.  His injured knee—how
had he managed to forget about the knee that was already injured?  The thought
of it brought unbidden thoughts of Calis into his head.  He ached for the
prince more than he ought to.  Calis was surely well past the point of worrying
about Taeru.  Still, Taeru held onto the hope that he might be able to see the blond
one more time.  He owed him an apology—at least.  He had surely caused Calis
quite a bit of trouble, as the prince had murdered guards for him. 

There was another strong blow to his knee, and he screamed
again.  His body convulsed, pulling against the bindings, and his back arched
upwards, away from the metal.  He sobbed, whimpering involuntarily against the
metal.  His positioning was so that every blow hit the perfect location along
his arms and legs, hurting more than he’d ever imagined it could. 
Just kill
me.  Just kill me…

I hope they accidentally kill you here, waiting for
another blow.  You are worthless, prince.  You ought to die here.  It would
serve you right—for allowing your sister, and those poor women to suffer. 
They’ll surely all be hanged after you die.  It’s a shame that they can’t be
killed in front of you, though I’m sure they’ll be squeezed for information
until you’re dead.

Taeru’s eyes widened.  That was true—if he was dead, then he
had no means of protecting Aela or anyone else.  He squirmed against the
unconsciousness.  He’d have to handle this.  Perhaps he would be granted some
opportunity to stop this.  Aela and the others wouldn’t be killed while he was
alive, and he was sure of that.  Maybe…
She’s messing with my head again. 
He
whimpered weakly.  He knew that wanting death was cowardly—no matter what.

“In case you were interested,” Lavus started grimly, “my son,
your former lover, has agreed to tell me everything he knows about you.  I hope
you haven’t told him anything relevant.”  Lavus was amused, Taeru thought.  “I
would be much more merciful if you told me yourself, you realize?”

What? 
His leg was struck again, and he could feel a
breaking along his leg—or at least a crack.  It hurt, whatever it was.  The
pain brought him back to reality though.  Calis had apparently agreed to tell
Lavus about Taeru.  Well, that was… fair.  Not entirely unexpected, so the fact
that Taeru’s heart felt like it was the part of his body taking the taxing
blows was contemptible.  After all, Calis knew nothing of relevance.  Calis
didn’t know about Aela. 
Oh, by the Magisters… the Phantom Blade.  Tareth
will… oh, please… Please. 
He thought momentarily of telling Lavus himself,
though that would not have softened Tareth’s rage. 

After all, perhaps Calis was going to mislead his father. 
Perhaps he wouldn’t tell Lavus about the Phantom Blade at all. 
It’s
inspiring that you manage to be so foolishly optimistic in these circumstances,
some cynical part of his brain hissed at him. 
By inspiring, I mean sad.

Still, there was no reason to reveal information that would
guarantee him so much additional pain without being certain.  He kept his mouth
shut, saying nothing, as the pieces of his heart scrambled to reassemble
themselves.  “Oh, I can see how much that bothers you.  It must be painful, to
think that someone that you trusted and may have even been in love with, would
betray you so quickly.  My son is far more loyal to me than you realize,
urchin.”  A hand clutched his cheek for a moment before a fist slammed across
it.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Taeru tried weakly. 

“Your voice betrays you, child,” Lavus cooed.  He sounded as
though he was enjoying the moment more than he had the others.  Possibly
because he knew that his son was going to help him, now.  That probably meant
Calis wasn’t in trouble, which came as an unexpected relief to Taeru. 

A biting sensation cut along the front of Taeru’s body, and
he recognized it from moments gone by as one of the leather whips.  It bit, and
it sliced through his skin, as though it was made of paper.  Taeru whimpered
again, and then, with a renewed confidence.  “Let me see him,” Taeru begged.

Lavus laughed, and another forceful blow moved across
Taeru’s formerly decent leg.  It wasn’t such any longer.  “Going to try and
guilt my son into silence with your nonsense?  You truly are deluded.”

“No,” Taeru said, and his voice was shaking without pause. 
“No, after you talk to him—let me talk to him, please.”

Taeru really didn’t see why the request had to be met with
the blows to his body parts.  It was, though, and he let out another hoarse
scream.  “He doesn’t want to see you, you lying streetwalker!  If I let him in
here, he’d torture you with far more intensity than I am.  You wouldn’t
survive.”

“Let him, then,”  Taeru said shakily. 
He could be
lying.  That doesn’t sound like Calis.  He wouldn’t do that.  Hurting people
has never been how he handles things.  Though, if he were angry enough… it’s
irrelevant.  I have to see him. 
“Stay in here with him.  Just let me speak
to him for a moment!”

The whip, and then that hard object—Taeru thought it might
be a hammer—hit him in rapid succession.  He whimpered, choking out breath and
blood interchangeably.  He ought to just stop talking, he thought.  “Speak
again, and you won’t live through the next blow.” 

Taeru silenced himself.  “Lavus!” a woman’s voice came out
of nowhere.  Taeru hadn’t heard her enter, though that meant nothing.  She
probably had entered during one of the many strikes to Taeru’s body.  He heard
less in those moments.  “He’s blindfolded,” she said, as though this fact was
horrifying.

“What are you doing here, Claudia?” Lavus hissed.  Taeru
wasn’t sure who this was, though he assumed by the addressors that Claudia had
to be Calis’s mother.  She was Lavus’s wife, he surmised. 

She sounded winded, as though she had just fought a very
difficult battle.  Taeru wondered if Lavus had hit her.  She sounded as though
she’d been struck recently.  She also didn’t sound quite as vicious, or
sadistic, as Tareth and Lavus.  Taeru found himself clinging to her voice. 
“Let me see him.”

“What?” Tareth was the one who spoke next.  “Mother, what is
this about?”

She was crying, Taeru realized.  Or she had been, he thought
she might still be crying.  Well, she did live with Tareth and Lavus, so she probably
cried often, he thought unkindly.  “Just take off the blindfold.  Please, then
I’ll go.  I need to see something.”

Lavus was beside himself.  “Are you out of your mind?”

“Please, Lavus—I need this.”  Her words were not necessarily
pleading, rather, they were emphatic, as if this wasn’t debatable. 

Lavus laughed bitterly, and with a blast of air, another
blow struck Taeru in the arm.  Oh, he had not expected that.  Oh, that hurt. 
His mouth opened to form a whimper, or a scream, but no sound came forward.  He
just tried to push breath out of his throat.  “I don’t mind torturing him in
your presence.”

“Lavus, you ought to know I’m not squeamish,” she said
flatly.  “Let me see his eyes.”

“Wench,” Lavus growled.  “So paranoid that you have to see
his face fully?  Fine.”  Someone, Lavus presumably, moved forward and grabbed
the blindfold that had become a staple in Taeru’s life.  The man yanked it
down, and Taeru’s eyes blinked several times.  There were a few points of light
through the room—fires—and Taeru’s eyelids fluttered from the new visual.  A
more delicate hand grabbed Taeru’s chin, yanking his head upwards.

Oh, Calis’s mom, indisputably.  Her blue-green eyes may well
have been his, and her blond hair was nearly the same color.  It was long, and
flowing, curled, though a little disheveled from whatever had made her cry. 
She was beautiful.  Her soft, pink lips parted when they looked at him, though,
and she looked horrified.  There was a strange intake of breath, and he
realized that she’d gasped.  What an odd reaction.  If she’d seen his body,
then his face’s injuries were nothing spectacular.

She was going to slap him, Taeru realized.  He flinched,
before he’d really determined why he thought that.  To his surprise, she
released him, though she continued to stare at him.  He risked another glance
at her, completely unsure where this was going.  His arms and legs were really
hurting, he thought absently.  “I can see why Calis found you attractive,” she
said pragmatically.

Taeru was quite certain that he was not to address this
woman.  He just stared at her, and he wondered if he’d asked her—if she would
let him see Calis.  No, she wouldn’t—and he knew that she wouldn’t have had the
power to do so.  “Satisfied, wench?” Lavus asked acerbically.

“Has he given you any information?” Claudia turned, and
Tareth moved forward and replaced the blindfold.  “Why is he blindfolded?”

“It creates a sense of anticipation,” Lavus answered flatly,
“and no, but he will.  Now leave, go attend to your duties.”

“Tell Calis I said hello, Mother,” Tareth said, and he
sounded so snide that Taeru felt a tinge of anger at it.  Apparently, they knew
more of how hurt he was about Calis’s change of sides than he’d wanted. 

To his surprise, Claudia responded almost angrily.  “Watch
yourself, Tareth.”