The clinking of chains woke Indenuel up. That and a strong smell of ginseng. He cracked an eye open, groaning, trying to move his body when he realized the chains he heard were attached to him, pinning him down.
The sleep ebbed away as he tried to orient himself. This was a room he’d never been in before. There were no windows, and a warm, yellow light came from the two torches by the door. Indenuel looked down to see his legs and torso were bound to a table. It was on an incline, enough for him to realize he wasn’t the only one in the room.
Navir placed four sticks of incense in some water before ushering a guard away. The guard obeyed and left. Fadrique and Dalius were there too. Indenuel glared and started to grind his teeth, which was when he realized there was something in his mouth, like a metal plate, keeping him from talking. A leather mask was tied around his face. Indenuel tried to move his hands, but it was impossible. His hands were chained, with his palms flat against his arms. Indenuel looked past the High Elders to see Tolomon, waiting by the door, his head bowed and not looking at anyone.
“Welcome to the King’s dungeon,” Navir said, taking a few steps forward. “One specifically designed to hold corrupted weather controllers.”
Indenuel couldn’t say a word, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at Navir. He still had plenty of anger left over for the High Elders, even if he still felt exhausted.
There was another man there he’d never met. Where was Martin? He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he killed him. He was positive he saw the old man when Tolomon knocked him out. Beaten and bruised but alive. Indenuel situated himself better on the table, trying to identify how he felt about that. He was angry at Martin, at all of them. Angry enough to kill, but now that he was here, waking up in a dungeon, did he feel guilty about murdering Martin? He honestly couldn’t tell.
“Tolomon?” Navir said, pulling a key from his pockets. Tolomon walked forward, taking the key from Navir before headed toward Indenuel, not making eye contact with him. Navir folded his arms as Tolomon began to unlock the chains around his torso. “All of us are here to block you if you even think about using a corruptive power to hurt us. I strongly suggest you don’t.”
Indenuel glared again. Navir was trying to intimidate him, threatening him into obedience. Tolomon finished unlocking the chains over his legs and torso. He tried to get up, but his muscles didn’t work. How long had he been asleep? Tolomon took his elbow, helping him sit up, still not looking at him. Tolomon eased him into a small chair next to the table before unlocking the chains against his arms. Fadrique and Dalius took another step forward, and Indenuel could sense the powers probing him, blocking the corruption he had no desire to use.
“If you try to speak to Theo, Tolomon is under orders to stop you. You will not spew your devilish lies to the man,” Navir said.
Indenuel didn’t think his glare could get any darker. In fact, he was quite sure his eyes flickered black as Navir raised his own hand to block the ability to shove a tree through the man’s chest.
Tolomon took the metal out of Indenuel’s mouth, and he tasted coppery blood.
“Theo,” Navir said.
The man Indenuel never met before came forward. He touched Indenuel’s temples, and the healing power entered his body, reacting harshly against the corruption. Indenuel hissed, feeling a burning sensation. The healing power stitched up his mouth where the metal dug in. His deteriorating muscles strengthened. Not to full capacity, but enough to help him sit up straighter.
“Go to the top of the stairs, Theo. Do not come unless we call, or unless you feel corrupted pain building up,” Navir said.
Theo nodded, leaving the cell. Once Theo was gone, Navir shoved a cup in Indenuel’s hands. Tolomon caught the bottom of it as it slipped from his numb fingers before giving it back, making sure he had a better hold of it before letting go.
“Is it poisoned?” Indenuel asked, looking at Navir.
His smile was tight. “You know we wouldn’t.”
He took a sip of ale. It was just a sip before he realized how thirsty he was and drained the rest of the cup. He wanted to ask about Martin’s health, but his pride got in the way. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know whether he was successful in killing him. The more he woke up, the more he realized he might regret the killing. If it was any other High Elder, he honestly wouldn’t have. But Martin, despite everything, had once been his friend, and that loyalty was still there. Fleeting, but there.
Tolomon went to refill the cup.
“Dalius will check your mark now,” Navir said. Indenuel glanced down, realizing he wore a strange shirt. It was tied together in the front, and as Dalius undid the ties he realized this was a special shirt meant for marked individuals.
Dalius helped Indenuel take off the shirt. Even in the light of the torch, they were dangerously red. Dalius touched each mark individually before making a pulling motion. Indenuel closed his eyes, feeling like a part of his body was being pulled out of him. Indenuel gritted his teeth, feeling the pull turn into pain when Dalius let go.
“It made little difference. Even awake, I’m not getting any more corruption out of him. He has a strong level of hate.”
Indenuel opened his eyes, glaring at Dalius. “What did you honestly expect?”
“Do you forgive my grandfather?” Dalius asked.
“Hell no,” Indenuel said.
“Watch your language around us, Indenuel,” Navir said.
“On the contrary. You better get used to people talking about Hell a lot more around you,” Indenuel said.
Tolomon handed him another cup of ale, and Indenuel drained that one too.
“He’s still too angry,” Dalius said. “This mark isn’t coming off tonight.”
Navir rubbed his forehead. “Then your trial is set for tomorrow morning. We will discuss your crimes against the Kiamese solders, as well as the attempted murder of Martin, in hopes your confession will come.”
Indenuel got the last drops of ale from the cup. Attempted murder. Martin was still alive. He recognized the feeling of relief, no matter how small.
“You think you’re going to force the mark off my chest?” Indenuel asked.
“We are doing what we can for your soul,” Navir said.
“And what about your own souls? Rules of decency, laws of marriage, those ideas you preach on the Sabbath day then forget as soon as your sermons are done?” Indenuel placed the shirt back on as Tolomon tied it back together. “You are hypocrites of the blackest sort.”
“This is not the time to discuss this. You will have your broth and ale. Tolomon will help you walk to regain your strength, then you will be put back in chains until that mark comes off. Are we clear?”
Indenuel glared at this man before him. At the old man who so easily decided who needed to live and die. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how dangerous Navir was. He had an incredible amount of power, and Indenuel was the only one who could ever tell him no.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Do you ever wonder what Hell will be like, Navir?”
Navir grabbed the cup from Tolomon and thrust it into Indenuel’s hands. “Drink.”
Indenuel smirked before downing the liquid, this time a meaty broth. It had been a while since he’d had straight broth. Once his leather mask was back in place, Theo came back, checking him again, using the broth to strengthen his muscles and give him more energy. Once he had been given enough, Navir ordered Tolomon to chain Indenuel’s arms again. Tolomon obeyed without a word. Indenuel couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and he realized he needed to know. There was something in the way Tolomon refused to meet his gaze and the frown that was always present. What was his bodyguard thinking?
Navir excused Theo once Indenuel’s arms were chained, and Tolomon helped him stand, letting him lean on him until he was strong enough on his own, though he still helped Indenuel walk around the small cell. Indenuel humored them. He stayed quiet, passing the High Elders as he did his little walk. He passed Fadrique, glaring at him darkly. Was this the main reason why Fadrique hated him so much? What with discovering Indenuel as the Warrior, he wouldn’t be able to bed as many women as possible for two weeks in the third month. Despite all that and having way too many concubines, it was somehow Indenuel who was locked up in the dungeon.
Fadrique unfolded his arms, his fingers twitching, and Indenuel could feel the overwhelming weather control that blocked the corruption inside him. Not that he could do anything about it. This windowless cell kept him from stretching to the heavens.
He passed Dalius. Saw his nice robes and his well-groomed hair and beard. Saw the wealth and the luxury. Saw everything he wasn’t allowed to have growing up, even though they shared the same blood. Dalius watched, worried at the anger clearly written on his face.
And Martin. He wasn’t here but thinking about him made him feel a deep betrayal. Martin was so good on the outside, and yet so rotten on the inside. He did everything he needed to, then looked away as horrific things happened in Santollia. And Navir, the man who found nothing wrong with killing women and children to keep his secrets. Everything came back to his concern to that first letter he wrote to Nathaniel. There was a known evil and the unknown, and once again he weighed it out in his mind. He knew, fully, the sins of these men, and he would do everything to stick them on trial tomorrow just as much as they would him.
“That’s enough. Chain him back up, Tolomon,” Navir said. “He’s strong enough.”
Tolomon nodded, helping Indenuel back on the table, binding his legs and torso to it. Indenuel tried to find a comfortable position, but there was none. Tolomon headed toward the door again as Fadrique and Dalius left. Navir paused next to Tolomon, studying him closely.
“Can I trust you with the key?” Navir asked.
“What do you mean?” Tolomon asked.
“Your reports indicate you have become close friends with Indenuel. I want to make sure you will not let him escape.”
Tolomon’s face dropped. “No, sir. I would never let a marked individual out of the dungeon, no matter who they are.”
Navir’s eyes narrowed. “There were things you heard; secrets that should have remained quiet that could have shaken even the strongest of Graduates, which I am told is you. I need your assurance you have still sworn yourself to your King and your God.”
Tolomon’s face remained unreadable. “I have no assurances to give, other than the fact that you are still standing.”
Navir did not look impressed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m an exceptional killer. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead, and no one would be able to tie it back to me. Since you are not, you can rest assured that I am still loyal to my King and my God,” Tolomon said.
Navir’s frown deepened. “This is not at all comforting.”
Tolomon’s unreadable face lifted enough to show the barest of smiles. “The truth rarely is sir.” Indenuel was glad for the mask to keep the others from seeing his smirk.
Navir took the tiniest step back, giving Tolomon another look. He about said something else, but shook his head before leaving the cell, closing the door after him. Tolomon closed his eyes, easing himself against the wall next to the chair, folding his arms. Indenuel tried again to move to a comfortable position, but there was no way he’d stay comfortable. Not with his arms shackled and digging into his back like it was.
Tolomon waited, listening before standing straighter and pulling the key out of his pocket. He stood in front of Indenuel, holding the key up. “After what I witnessed between you and the High Elders today, I am worried about your trial. I’m worried you won’t listen to them, and for whatever reason, you might listen to me. I’ll unlock the mask while we talk, but that’s all.”
Indenuel nodded, since he had questions of his own. Tolomon walked to the side, unlocking the mask. He placed it to one side as Indenuel wiped the side of his mouth the best he could with his shoulder. “You’re seriously still standing by them? Protecting them? Doing their every bidding?”
“They have me so cornered I have no other choice. Not if I want to die, and my last remaining family with me. But I can still follow my religion to the best of my ability, even if my faith in my leaders has been shaken,” Tolomon said.
“Martin knew exactly what Navir did and went along with it. He’s not our ally anymore, it will just be me against the four of them.”
“I know. And the whole thing has left a poisonous taste in my mouth, but ending the war is our top priority right now, which means you need to get the mark off your chest.”
“Seriously? The High Elders are allowing women and children to be murdered, and it’s somehow me that’s your top concern.”
“Yes. Just because it isn’t my top concern, doesn’t mean I am not desperately trying to do everything in my power to stop it. But this-” Tolomon pointed to Indenuel’s chest. “This is terrifying.”
“I’m doing everything in my power to stop the High Elders,” Indenuel said.
Tolomon shook his head before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Do you not pay attention to the sermons about hell and damnation? Do you not realize the slippery slope you are on? You cannot stop the High Elders with the Devil’s mark on your chest. You have murdered so many people using the corruptive powers, and then you woke up and tried to murder Martin! The devil’s corruptive powers are not to be played with like this. You are to stay as far away from them as possible.”
Indenuel closed his eyes, hitting his head lightly against the table. “So, what was I supposed to do? Die?”
“Yes,” Tolomon whispered. “Better to die with a clear conscious than use the devil’s corruptive powers and risk your soul.”
Indenuel shook his head. “And I’d rather have the mark on my chest than have Inessa get hurt.”
Tolomon grumbled, rubbing his face with one hand. “Young love is so stupid.” He dropped his hand, glaring at Indenuel. “And what do you think this did to Inessa? Do you honestly think she appreciated watching you slaughter a hundred and fifty men? Would you like to know that on the ride back she was in a bad state of panic? You honestly think this has won her love?” Tolomon pointed at Indenuel’s chest.
“No, I don’t.” He struggled to sit up a little, again trying to ease the pressure off his arms. “But I honestly think this-” he looked down at his chest and up at Tolomon again. “-is the reason she’s still alive. I realize the terror she must have gone through; I realize she is still being raped by Martin far more than I want to… to even think about. But she’s still alive.” Indenuel sighed, again hitting his head.
“Please do everything you can to get the mark off tomorrow. Swallow your pride, and let the High Elders do what they can to get it off. That’s all I’m asking. We can focus on the other situation later,” Tolomon said.
“If I survive the war. If the High Elders don’t try to kill me like they have countless others.” Indenuel opened his eyes, about to say something when he noticed it. Tolomon had been gesturing with one hand throughout the conversation, because his other hand was on the hilt of his sword. Indenuel frowned, meeting Tolomon’s gaze. “Is that because of me?” Tolomon said nothing. “What the hell do you think will happen with me chained here like this?”
Tolomon’s shrug was small. “I don’t want this to happen any more than you do, but I can no longer trust you. That mark has made you dangerous.” Indenuel frowned, shaking his head, not answering. Tolomon sighed before backing away, keeping his eyes on Indenuel before picking up the mask and walking back over to him. “Please, please confess tomorrow.”
Indenuel frowned, staring at the walls. Confess to hypocrites. To murderers. Liars. Rapists. Tolomon waited, mask in hand, for his answer. “I will be honest tomorrow. That much I will promise you.”
Tolomon nodded, taking his hand off the hilt of his sword long enough to put the metal plate back in his mouth before locking the mask. Tolomon said nothing as he headed back to his post. At least he wasn’t holding the hilt of his sword anymore.
Look closer at his right hand… he heard a demon say.
Indenuel frowned, then squinted in the torchlight. Tolomon’s fingers were curled enough that he almost missed the hilt of a dagger just below the sleeve of his jacket. Tolomon’s middle finger was touching it, the rest of his fingers semi-relaxed.
He doesn’t trust you.
He never has.
He wants to force you to listen to the High Elders.
Tolomon is deluded.
We can help you escape.
Indenuel closed his eyes tight. Enough, he told the demons. He is my friend.
He doubted the demons left, but they at least stopped talking. Indenuel opened his eyes to see Tolomon staring straight at him. He stood beside the chair perfectly still, ready for anything, his face impossible to read. He turned away, acting like he wasn’t paying attention, as the hilt of the dagger slipped into the palm of his hand.