Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (59 page)

Curious, Saifullah moved to Jenevra’s side. Watching her face carefully, he reached out and hit her left arm; the one broken by her fall.

Jenevra paled, choking hard against sickness; a slight tremor running through the muscles of her upper arm: but she clenched her teeth and looked into his eyes defiantly; chilled at the delighted smile that spread across his face.

Nodding understandingly at her, he uncorked a small vial tucked into the end pocket of his knife roll. “Ah, my beautiful Malak. So unusual; an exquisite challenge. I will teach you how to feel. In a short time, sweet angel, you will understand how to submit to the pain; how to let it take you.” He broke the seal on the vial, throwing it carelessly onto the bed. “Just one little drop of this, Malak. Open your mouth, my angel.” The gentle hand held her jaw firmly, one finger pressing against a point that forced her mouth open just enough for him to quickly tilt the vial against it.

Unable to wriggle out of his grasp, Jenevra tried not to swallow, but he held her head back, hand over her mouth for several minutes; talking constantly in that low calming voice, long fingers stroking down her throat until reflex took over.

“There now; all done. Now we can continue.” Saifullah returned to his position behind the princess, picked the blade up and began cutting again. Short, deep strokes of the knife began etching a detailed design on Jenevra’s neck, warm blood trickling down her back. Saifullah didn’t stop to wipe it away: he knew the lines he was carving into her without any need to look at them.

As the drug he’d given her took effect, Jenevra began to feel the touch of the knife, each stroke burning into her skin. Her eyes were tightly closed as she tried to meditate against the worst of it, but the agony of the broken limbs added to the Saifullah’s knife was escalating rapidly now.

“Interesting,” Saifullah paused in his work again, taking time to step back and sip at a glass of water, blood dripping from his fingers, forming a pool on the table as he placed the glass back down. “Jaiyen, will you give my young friend here another drop or two of rakthan?” He smiled at Jenevra as Jaiyen forced more of the liquid in the vial into her mouth: not such a struggle this time as the first dose had taken some effect. He looked at Cieren, sitting propped up on the bed, watching the princess in fascination.

As the new dose of rakthan began to take hold the pain increased dramatically. From never feeling any excessive pain, Jenevra was suddenly plunged into a world that consisted totally of it. Every touch of the blade along her back sent a stream of white hot pain through her, shooting yellow and black rods across her vision as she faded in and out of reality. Flinching away from the knife shot excruciating flares into her leg and arm, taking the princess into misty realms of consciousness where the pain surrounded her completely, over-riding every other sensation.

Each time, Saifullah would stop; patiently waiting for her to come back.

Each time she would gasp, maybe a small moan, but she hadn’t cried out.

Fingers working steadily hour after hour through the blood trickling down her back, Saifullah continued patiently creating the serpent along her spine. When he reached the tail, he picked up a long thin needle-like item from his roll and carefully pushed it into the base of her back. “Are you ready for this, my Malak?” He waved another sharp smelling bottle under the nose of the barely conscious Princess, stroking her hair gently and beckoning Prince Cieren to come closer. “I believe we are almost there, Your Highness.”

Jaiyen stood at Jenevra’s right side. “Are you ready to quit the Order yet, Nimh’a?” He asked quietly. “All you have to do is tell me you’re leaving and all this stops. Just say yes, Jenna.”

She heard him through waves of mist and pain; through blossoming red flowers of agony that swam across her vision. She thought she was shaking her head.

Barely touching the needle Saifullah tapped it forward just slightly onto a nerve in her back and Jenevra’s world exploded.

 CHAPTER FORTY TWO

From the Imperial Palace Faris’s ship had taken Shadow Flight north to Bortka, to Colin and Annis’s inn, hoping desperately that they would find the children still safely there. As the ship cut through the sea, D’Agostino commented on the speed and build of the small vessel.

“The faster the better under the circumstances,” Farid noted bleakly. He had been describing what he knew of the Saifullah and the “Serpent” to the others, particularly for Wynn’s benefit, so that the healer would have an idea of what he could potentially be treating when they found her.

“I just don’t get the point of it,” D’Agostino admitted. “Why not just kill them and have done with it. What purpose does this serpent thing serve?”

“Pain,” Farid said bleakly. “That is its sole purpose; to cause such agonizing pain to the victim that they will do anything to make it stop—providing they are still capable of it by the time they break.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about this, Jatar,” Spider noted caustically. “Had reason to use it yourself have you?”

“I have seen it used. When Kings want information, they aren’t always willing to wait for it. Our father has employed a Saifullah on occasion; and he made sure I knew what it was about. I was told not to be too squeamish about it; it’s simply a practical tool for extracting information.” Farid pushed his dark hair back from his face, looking grim. “Yet another issue my father and I disagreed upon.”

“So you’ve actually seen this done?” Wynn asked with a clinical interest.

Farid nodded. “I have, and I’ve told you as much as you need to know. All we should be doing now is praying that Pichot was lying and they don’t already have her.”

Finding Colin and Annis lying on the ground where Cieren’s men had left them, Brogan immediately set a burial detail to work, knowing now they would have to move faster than ever. Silently, he applauded Jenevra’s foresight in keeping the Flight so small, as he ordered them to mount up again. In the absence of evidence to tell them differently, they were assuming that Cieren’s men were responsible for the attack; that they had taken the children and, even if the princess wasn’t already with them, she would be trailing them too.

With Bernardo’s uncanny tracking instincts picking up signs where no one else would have seen them, they headed for the northern coast at a full gallop, following it towards Prince Cieren’s castle at Fetu-Vallis. As evening fell the day after leaving Salanova, they rode into a small valley just to the west of the castle. From the crest of the valley, they had a clear view of the castle; standing peaceful in the twilight. The small town around the castle was already sinking into the gloom of evening as the sun sank lower, depriving it of the little cheer it ever saw.

Finn, Spider and D’Agostino, with Captain Tessier, the healer Wynn, and the two Labrian Princes led the way towards the west side; Finn’s sharp eyes catching a movement in the shadows. Tapping Spider’s arm he pointed towards the dark bushes at the bottom of the hill.

Spider motioned back to the Flight to wait.

Several minutes later, three small figures scrambled up into the rocks at the top of the valley. The tallest of the three was trying to keep the other two quiet.

Spider smiled. “Tallis?” He called softly. “Tallis, is that you? Are the girls with you? We’re from the princess’s Flight.”

Finn and Spider heard some whispering from the rocks, and then Tallis came forward slowly, staying back out of reach as he tried to peer at the two men. Squinting at Spider he said, “You carried her into the inn, didn’t you?”

Spider nodded his head. “You remember? That’s good. Are the girls safe?”

Tallis stared at him for a long moment; hesitating, until Brogan and Bernardo came forward to stand by Spider. “Teshia, it’s alright. Bring Tilda out too. They’re the princess’s men.” The two little girls came forward, Tilda’s thumb still firmly wedged in her mouth. Bernardo held his arms out to them and they came shyly to him. Picking them up he carried them back along the valley to where the rest of the Flight was waiting.

Wynn quickly checked them all over, smiling at them, relieved that there was no apparent damage to any of them. “How did you get out of the castle?” He asked Tallis. “It’s not easy for a young boy and two little ones to do that on their own is it?”

“The princess got us out,” Tallis told him between mouthfuls of bread from a loaf that Farid had given him. “She let us down on a rope made out of sheets. She made me promise to go as soon as the girls were down too,” he added guiltily.

“What about the princess?” Tessier asked intently. “Where is she?”

“She fell down,” Tilda announced tearfully. “She didn’t get up again.”

“Calm down Captain,” Farid caught hold of Tessier’s arm before he could spring forward at Tallis to question him further. “We’ll get further faster if we don’t frighten them.” He turned to the children again. “What did you see, Tallis?”

“Marvelous,” groaned Wynn as he listened to the boy’s tale. “Sounds like a broken leg on top of anything else. How does she do it?”

“Maybe she just sprained her ankle?” Tessier said, hopefully.

Wynn looked at him with a pained expression. “Captain, she walked out of my tent after a sword went entirely through her; she got half drowned, battered against rocks and climbed a cliff in a storm. Do you honestly think a sprained ankle would stop her … with the children to look after?”

“You may have a point,” Tessier conceded looking sheepish. “So they took her back into the castle?”

Tallis nodded, his young face tired and worried. “I heard someone scream a little while ago; inside the castle. Do you think they’re hurting the princess because she let us out?”

Tessier put his hands on Tallis’s shoulders and looked the boy in the eyes. “Tallis,” he said gently. “It’s possible they will hurt her, but I promise you it’s not because of you or your sisters. You did exactly what you should have done—you obeyed orders. That’s all any soldier can do. Now can you be brave again while we go and see if we can find the princess?”

Making certain the children were well hidden behind thick scrubby bushes, with a strongly protesting Bernardo, the men made ready to find a way into the castle. D’Agostino had scouted ahead around the base and back of the castle. The only possible way in was through the main gate that he could see.

“What about through that tower?” Spider pointed to a large tower overhanging the back of the castle, almost touching the mountains behind it. “Is there any way up to it?”

D’Agostino shook his head. “Not that I could find, and I looked. It seems to be some sort of supply area. I think there is some sort of hatch up there, but it’s too dark to tell.”

Finn and Spider shared a thoughtful look. “That’s our way in,” Finn said. “If a few of us go in that way, we can open the main gate for the rest of you.”

“If more of you go, you can take the healer and start looking for the Captain.” Brogan raised his hands as they turned to stare at him wonderingly. “As she’s so fond of saying, that’s why I’m the Sergeant. Now get moving!”

Finn, Spider and Gervaise D’Agostino with Captain Tessier, the healer Wynn, and the two Labrian Princes headed into the deep gloom at the back of the castle.

“What is that?” D’Agostino asked as Finn took a strange looking device and held it against the string of his longbow. “It’s not any type of arrow I’ve seen before.”

Spider grinned as Finn took aim at the bottom of the hatch at the top of the tower. “It’s a dagger with folding handles on it; one of the Captain’s toys. She usually keeps a couple tucked into that long braid … you know, just for emergencies. Nice shot!” Finn’s flying dagger lodged itself firmly in the wooden boards of the hatch. The three of them pulled hard, but nothing moved. Farid lent a hand too, but still nothing.

“It’s just a thought,” Brogan observed, coldly. “But if four of you can’t pull that dagger loose, couldn’t one of you just climb the rope and open the hatch up?”

At that instant a chilling scream tore through the quiet evening.

Tessier went pale.

The Flight members stared at each other. Finn, D’Agostino and Farid all smacked Spider across the head at the same time. “Get up that damn rope!” D’Agostino hissed at him. “That’s why we call you Spider!”

Within a few minutes there were six of them at the top of the tower, hauling Wynn up who was clinging tightly to the rope, eyes shut. Pulling him into the small room at the top of the tower, they stopped again to assess where they were. Wynn was checking his satchel, ensuring his supply of medications was still intact after bumping across country from the ship. “One thing, gentlemen,” his urgent tone caught their attention. “When we find the princess it is vital that you don’t move her until I’ve had a chance to see what condition she’s in. If they’re messing around her spine, or if that leg is broken, then we can’t move her until things are stable.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Tessier whispered harshly. “We need to find her and get out!”

“Fine, Captain,” Wynn retorted angrily. “And we’ll leave it to you to explain to her why she can’t ever walk again shall we? Keep her still until I can deal with whatever has happened. Then we can get her out safely!”

Another agonized scream harrowed Tessier’s heart. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in impatience, he drew his sword and nodded. “Let’s go.”

From the few details Tallis had been able to give them, the men knew roughly which area of the castle they were aiming for, and they moved quickly down to the level they thought they needed. The few guards they encountered were dealt with swiftly and silently. Farid, Faris and Spider ran swiftly to the front gate. Assuming that no one would attack from inside the castle, Cieren only had two guards on the gate at night. The three Shadow Flight men dispatched them quickly, struggling to lift the heavy crossbar and open the gates for the rest of the Flight.

Tessier and D’Agostino had drawn their swords, and Finn was stalking the hallways with an arrow nocked ready in his bow. Reaching the end of the hallway first, Finn moved ahead, leaving the others still checking the rooms behind him. To the far left, he thought he saw a youngish man entering a room towards the end of that next hallway. Moving silently along to check it out, he waved at Tessier to tell him which way he was going. Reaching the room, Finn tried the door carefully. It wasn’t locked. Lifting the latch he pushed the door open slowly with his foot, loaded bow ahead of him as he entered the room. His stomach knotted in cold fury as he saw Prince Cieren kneeling on the bed in front of the unconscious form of the princess; his head buried in the thick fall of hair cascading down her front. “Get off her!” He snarled.

Startled, Cieren looked up.

That was all Finn needed: loosing his arrow straight through Cieren’s throat. Poking his head out of the door he gave a light whistle signaling the others to come to him. Moving across the room, he dragged the dead Prince off the bed, dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor.

Tessier was next into the room, staggering in shock as he saw her; hurling himself towards where Jenevra was hanging between the posts of the bed, reaching for the ropes that tied her when Finn grabbed his arm. “Damn it, Corrigan,” he choked. “I can’t leave her like this. I’ve got to get her down.”

Finn’s eyes were sympathetic but he held on. “Do you really want to be the one who stops her climbing, or running … or even walking? Wynn knows what he’s doing. Just wait for him.”

The tall healer came running into the room with D’Agostino, halting in dismay as he saw Jenevra. Pulling himself together quickly he stood behind the princess, reaching through her hair to check the pulse in her neck. It was weak, but that was better than he’d expected as he saw her slumped forward as she was. Standing back, he looked over what was visible: the livid bruising on the left arm, the blood encrusted back with three thin needles still stuck in it, and the right leg, twisted at an improbable angle. Looking up startled as Farid and Spider ran in, Wynn sighed deeply. “Right. Here’s how this has to happen. I need two of you ripping sheets up to make bandages. I want one large piece folded to go down the length of her back. I need something … well, preferably four somethings, that we can use to hold her leg and arm straight when we move her. Long thin pieces of wood or metal—they need to stop her leg and arm from moving.” The healer looked at Tessier who was obviously in shock. “Captain!”

Tessier looked at him blankly.