Gideon stormed out of the tent, only to find Len, Celaena, and two other Forelian soldiers standing in wait for him.
“Take him,” said Len.
“What—” Gideon began, then batted their hands away as they reached out for him.
“You fucking—!”
They persisted, and an enraged roar left Gideon as the Forelians tackled him to the ground. A violent struggle ensued, one that Gideon quickly lost.
“Stop fighting us, son! This is for the princess’s sake!” Len shouted, straining while he and the others set their body weight against Gideon’s back.
“Let me go you fuckers!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?”
Edea then stepped out of the tent, her sorrow replaced by a look of cold determination. She held a leather bundle in her hands, along with a water flask.
“Place him on his knees.”
The Forelians obeyed. Gideon struggled all the while, but despite it they eventually succeeded. Once they’d set him in position he gave Edea a look of pure hatred.
“There will be no discussion,” she told him. “No negotiation. There is far too much at stake. You will do this.”
“You’re fucking dead, you evil bitch!!!” Gideon bellowed. “I should’ve killed you months ago!!!”
Edea continued as if he’d said nothing at all. “The narcotic is known to cause a violent initial reaction. It’s for that reason we’ve momentarily restrained you. For Surelin and Edwin’s sake, you will ingest it. I am willing to accept the danger you represent to my person for the slim chance that this will save my grandchildren.”
“What fucking narcotic?!”
She unwrapped the bundle, holding it open so that he could see. Inside lay a single desiccated gray-green leaf, one that Gideon had never laid eyes on before. Beside it lay a reddish acorn that was swollen with uneven, cancerous growths.
“The trance narcotic. Siladine, as Silas calls it. We acquired it from the Lake Men in Levidia, just enough for one person. Upon ingesting this you will enter into a state of psychosis, one that will be useful for our purposes.”
“I know what the fuck it does!”
“Do you, truly? I wonder.”
She lifted the leaf from the bundle, then extended it towards him. “You must follow my directions exactly. Chew slowly and carefully. Do not swallow anything before I tell you to unless you wish to die an agonizing death.”
Gideon glared up at her, hatred boiling inside his chest.
“Open your mouth.”
After a few moments of hesitation he obeyed, and Edea carefully placed the leaf against his tongue.
“Chew. Remember, do not swallow.”
He bit down, grimacing, and the leaf crackled between his teeth. The texture was rough and dry against his tongue, and the taste was terrible, as if he was eating campfire ashes. A strange buzzing pain instantly spread throughout his tongue and gums. Revulsion washed over him, mixing with the pain to make him nauseous.
“Hurts,” he said, slurring.
“Focus,” Edea flared. “Do not speak again.”
Once he’d ground the leaf down into paste, Edea commanded him to open his mouth once again.
“Now, the acorn. You must keep what remains of the leaf inside your mouth and chew both together. If you swallow before the acorn has been thoroughly chewed you will be dead within a matter of hours. Open.”
Gideon opened his mouth with a heavy sense of dread. Edea placed the acorn atop his tongue carefully. He bit down on it, and a taste like spoiled meat instantly flooded his mouth.
A disgusted grunt left him involuntarily, and he stopped chewing. Through his mind flashed an image of himself, chewing upon rotten human flesh.
Edea grabbed his jaw and began to work it up and down.
“Chew.”
He grimaced, and began to chew once more. Every part of him screamed to spit it out, and it took all of his willpower to continue.
Consciousness began to flicker in and out. A burning feeling spread like lightning across his skin. Every muscle in his body suddenly tensed, and the Forelians held him in place. When it was over, Edea held the water flask up to his lips.
“Now drink. And swallow.”
The mere idea of swallowing nearly caused him to vomit, but Edea placed the opening of the flask between his lips and squeezed. Water filled his mouth, so much that he had no choice.
He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to focus on keeping it down, and when he opened them again the world had become vastly more colorful. The yellow-green grass of the surrounding hills became a vibrant viridian green, the clear blue sky a bright shade of cobalt.
Gideon’s chest heaved as he began to pant like a beast.
“Release him.”
The instant they did he sprang to his feet, lunging for Edea. Panicked shouts of alarm left the Forelians behind him as he seized her by the throat, panting loudly and glaring at her from close range. Fear filled her expression, followed quickly by surprise. His hand had locked around her throat, but he was not throttling her. She remained still, locking eyes with him while lifting a hand to halt the Forelians from rescuing her.
“Heavy breathing, flushed skin, dilated pupils…you’ve survived. Congratulations.”
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An enraged growl escaped from between his bared teeth, and his grip slowly began to tighten.
“Bismarck is being held by our troops at the top of the hill,” she said, straining. “Execute him. And do it where the Kenanites will see it happen.”
His hand squeezed much tighter for just a moment, causing a quiet, frightened gasp to escape from her. He then released her, and walked away from the tent towards the hill, under the anxious, watchful gaze of the Forelians.
----------------------------------------
Dance stood at the base of the hill, his gear and clothing pristine and unbloodied, just as it was the morning before he died. A huge, knowing smile shot across his face as Gideon approached.
“Did scaring that little old lady feel good, bastard?”
Gideon came to a stop in front of him, his eyes wildly searching Dance’s face while his chest heaved.
“Of course it did. You’re the exact violent piece of shit I wanted you to be. And you know the best part? I didn’t have to do a fucking thing to make you this way. You chose this. You’ve always been one incredibly stupid motherfucker.”
He stepped past him, and together they walked side by side up the slope. Strange activity was going on at the top of the hill. Men and women seemed to be shuffling about, shouting curses.
“Everything you’re about to do makes me real happy. Know that? Because it means I was right about you all along. Hurting people is the only thing you’re good for. Why the fuck else would I ever care about a worthless kid like you?”
The shouting became louder as Gideon neared the top of the hill. Once he’d reached it, he found a crowd surrounding Bismarck, who was huddled against the ground. His hands were raised meekly to protect his face as the Forelians rained vicious punches and kicks upon him. They seemed to be taking turns beating him.
Gideon roughly shoved aside the people standing in his way. Bismarck’s face was bloody and swollen from the beating, and realization appeared in his eyes when he saw Gideon leering down at him.
Dance chuckled darkly as Gideon grabbed Bismarck by his shirt, yanking him up to his feet. The Forelians around them laughed and jeered cruelly as Gideon pushed him down the opposite side of the hill towards the Kenanite army.
Urgent cries and sad wailing sounded from the Kenanites at the sight of their bloodied, beaten king being led down the hill. In response, the laughter from the Forelians became louder, and they shouted mocking insults at the Kenanites.
When they reached the flat ground at the bottom of the slope, Gideon kicked Bismarck's legs out from under him, sending him to his knees. Dance stood on the opposite side of him, watching with a smirk as Gideon drew his claymore. The wailing from the Kenanites instantly rose.
Fear was in Bismarck’s eyes as Gideon leveled the claymore’s blade above his head. He stared up at Gideon silently, waiting for the inevitable.
With a fierce grunt, Gideon swiftly swung his claymore up and then down. The blade easily sliced through Bismarck’s neck, and his head tumbled to the ground in front of him. The rest of his corpse collapsed onto its side while a stream of blood shot out of the neck, staining the grass red.
A thunderous, bloodthirsty cheer left the Forelians. The Kenanites were absolutely despondent, many falling to the ground where they stood, sobbing loudly or clasping their hands in prayer. Those who did not collapse stood in stunned silence, staring at Bismarck’s corpse.
“Well, go on then, bastard. Finish the job, or die trying. Hopefully you'll just die.”
Gideon stared at Bismarck’s decapitated corpse, watching blood leak from it into the grass. The brilliant crimson caused a sinking sensation to wash over him, as if he were being consumed by quicksand.
“You’re just gonna let Surelin die?”
At that, Gideon looked up into Dance’s face. He abruptly let out a startling roar, then took off at a sprint towards the Kenanite army.
He covered the ground between them in what felt like an instant. The archers fled out of his way, and he continued past them towards the nearest formation.
The men he was sprinting towards reacted slowly. Those who noticed him began to back away, with looks of terror growing upon their faces. But most were so involved with their grief that they weren’t aware he was headed straight for them.
Gideon charged as fast as his legs could carry him, clearly intending to crash straight into the men in front of him. They raised their swords once he was near, and he batted them away with his claymore in the split second before the collision.
The men he crashed into were knocked backwards violently, and they all collapsed in a heap, sending others nearby to the ground as they fell. Gideon swiftly regained his feet, and let out an otherworldly, ferocious roar as he swung at the men nearby who'd somehow managed to keep their feet. At first they simply tried to back away from him, desperately trying and failing to defend themselves. His claymore was a silver blur as he swung relentlessly, slicing through leather, skin, and bone with each strike.
He moved through them like an unstoppable whirlwind, his claymore cutting them into bloody pieces. The Kenanites closest to him were blocked by their comrades from behind and could not back up quickly enough to escape, no matter how hard they tried. Those few who found their courage and tried to fight back simply found themselves outranged by his claymore, and he launched strike after fearless strike at them that always found their mark. A long carpet of bloody, crawling wounded trailed behind him as he pressed ahead, slaughtering the Kenanites in such a way as to make them seem helpless.
Gideon cut through them so far and so quickly that he soon found himself surrounded on all sides. He began to lash out in all directions, his claymore whipping through the air as he bounded tirelessly between targets. As he did, a wide space began to clear between himself and the Kenanites. They finally began to hold their ground, forming a defensive ring around him, warding him off and bringing his advance to a halt.
His attacks continued, but the Kenanites held their ground firmly. They began to swing at him the moment he came near, striking out whenever he moved to attack one of their comrades. Blades scraped fruitlessly against his armor each time he launched a new attack, but he found less and less success with each successive strike.
Finally, his momentum against the Kenanites had been completely spent. They began to cautiously advance towards him, gradually closing the amount of space he had available to maneuver. He was forced onto the defensive, still swinging tirelessly in all directions but only to keep the Kenanites at bay.
One of the Kenanites took a bold step towards him, raising his sword to strike. Gideon swung to parry. Their blades connected, and the moment they did Gideon’s claymore snapped in two at the point of contact. A metallic crunch rang out, and the pointed end of the claymore flew off into the air above them. Before he could react, another Kenanite tackled him, sending him flying.
A pained grunt left Gideon as he slammed into the ground underneath the Kenanite’s weight. His breath left him, and sharp pains throbbed in his ribs and right shoulder. Gideon scrambled desperately to free himself but the Kenanite was just as desperate to keep him pinned to the ground. He brought his sword up to stab Gideon in the throat, and Gideon grabbed onto the man’s wrist with his left hand before he could complete the thrust, struggling holding it at bay.
Gideon’s right hand searched frantically along his waist as his left held the sword back from his throat. The Kenanite screamed with effort, pushing the point of the sword down to within inches of Gideon’s throat.
Romus appeared above and behind the Kenanite as they struggled, staring down at Gideon with a disapproving frown as he fought for his life.
“Don’ matter one bit if yer sword’s broke, boy. Dance’ll be with ya no matter what. He’s what got ya here. Aww, jus’ let ‘im kill ya, already.”
“Fuck you!!!” Gideon screamed.
Finally, his fingers located what they'd been searching for—Kaan's iron, the knife Bismarck had thrown at him in the arena. He swiftly unhooked it from his belt and stabbed it deep into the Kenanite’s side. A pained shout instantly left him, and the strength he was putting into pushing the sword down slackened. Gideon stabbed him again and again, screaming with rage and effort.
After a dozen stabbings the Kenanite finally went limp, and Gideon pushed him off. Once it was done he slowly regained his feet, and finally discovered the melee raging around him.
The Forelians had charged down off the hill while he’d been pinned to the ground. They were fighting Kenanites everywhere he looked, and clearly winning. Most of the Kenanites were already in flight towards the tents on the opposite side of the road, with many Forelians running after them in eager pursuit.
Two nearby Forelian women wielding sharpened sticks, one dark skinned, the other light, chased down a fleeing Kenanite and stabbed him in the back. He fell, and they stabbed him over and over again until he stopped moving. The dark skinned women picked up the Kenanite’s sword, and together they ran off in pursuit of another fleeing Kenanite.
Before long, all the Kenanites were fleeing, their morale broken. Gideon joined the Forelians in the pursuit, running past the tents and into the hills further beyond, using Kaan’s iron against any Kenanite who was not quick enough to escape him.