I glance down and see the hole in my breast. He spits something soft and fleshy onto the ground, and my stomach twists at the sight. I look into Corentin’s black eyes, and this time, it’s me that smiles.
“I’m going to become the Champion of Nyxthos, Corentin Maroux. Then, I’m going to take you to a chamber just like this. I’m going to see how quickly I can break you. I know your name. I know your face. And soon, far sooner than you know, you’re going to be the one begging for mercy.”
He laughs. “You, a human, will replace Echo Vael as Champion of Nyxthos? How quaint. If that’s what you think, then let’s really get into this. I’ve been holding back since I didn’t want you dying on me. I guess it doesn’t matter, though. You’ll be dead by morning anyway. I’d just wanted to learn what those markings are.”
He turns around and walks to the wall. I rub the leather back and forth as fast as possible without making a sound as he decides what instrument to torture me with next. The faintest snapping soundvibrates through the steel as part of the leather breaks. Corentin doesn’t take long to find his nexttoy, though.
A small cat-o’-nine-tails with bits of iron woven into the tails. Gods, this is going to hurt, but more importantly, if he cuts any of my Marks, they’ll be useless until my father can fix them.
“Tell me about your markings,” he says once, and I refuse to speak. He swings the cat at my stomach, and as soon as it connects, I scream. The bits of metal bite into my skin, and as the tails move, they scrape sections of flesh off, leaving long shallow cuts all over my stomach.
His eyes stay focused on his handiwork, and I keep sliding the leather across that blemish in the metal. It’s my only chance of surviving this. He swings the cat again, this time slightly higher up. Several of the tails brush against my breasts, and it’s like my skin is on fire. I know I can’t look at it. I can’t look at the damage done to my body. If I can survive this, I’ll be able to take a Lizard and heal in hours. None of the wounds are life-threatening, but they’re excruciating.
“You’re more resilient than I expected. Most humans give in just from the fear,” he says. “No matter.”
He turns away to find a different tool to use, and as his hand lingers over something designed to remove fingernails, I feel the leather snap completely. In an instant, my hand moves to my sheath, and I draw my dagger.
Then, my hand goes back into place against the steel, the dagger hidden behind it. My heart’s racing as he comes back with the nail puller. “I very much dislike pulling fingernails,” he says. “It feels sobarbaric, and there’s not enough blood. Why don’t you talk about those markings of yours? You won’t even lose the trial if you talk about that, but you’ll get a little respite from the pain. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I hesitate for a moment before saying, “Okay.” My eyes stay focused on the nail puller as he smiles even wider. “I’ll tell you about my Marks.” My words come out as barely more than a whisper.
“What was that?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you about my Marks,” I repeat, this time even quieter.
He moves closer to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”
And I smile, blood smearing across my lips with the movement, and I say, “They’re Priest Marks.”
Then my hand moves with twenty years of training. My words confuse him, and that confusion keeps him from responding quite fast enough to get away from my dagger. It pierces his throat, running from one side to the other, and I pull it toward me, ripping it out in a single movement.
His hands try to go to it, to cover the wound, and I know that many of the Godforged have faster healing. This may not be a deadly wound to him. It doesn’t matter, though, because it gives me enough time to cut through the leather holding me to the steel.
In less than twenty seconds, I’m free as he stumbles backward onto the floor, his blood pouring out onto the stone. “I told you that soon enough you’d be the one begging for mercy. Now’s that time.”
I straddle him. My dagger goes to his eye while my hand holds his head in place. He tries to push the blade away, but the bloodloss is making him weak, too weak to stop me. Slowly, the steel presses past his eyelid. He tries to scream, but it comes out as a gurgle.
“I told you I would torture you, Corentin Maroux. Iwillbecome the next Champion of Nyxthos.”
The blade moves deeper into his eye, but no further, and the torturer’s body shakes. His hands regain some of their strength, and he desperately tries to stop it. “Delicious,” I say as another scream comes out as a gurgle of blood.
I don’t make it fast, savoring his pain, weakness, and attempts to scream. Blood and gore run from between his eyelid creating tears of red, and I smile as I slowly turn the blade in his eye. But there are still things to do, and I don’t know if others will come into the room because of his screams.
“Goodbye, Corentin Maroux. Let no one remember your name.” I put my weight behind the dagger and feel it slide all the way into his skull, breaking through bone. He stops moving almost instantly. I stand up and take a deep breath before looking down at the man who had enjoyed my pain so much.
As a precaution, I slide the dagger through his ribs and pierce his heart. Every Priest knows piercing the heart is the only way to be sure you kill any of the magical beings. Godforged and Fae both can heal from incredibly grievous wounds that no human could survive. Even dragons will die if you pierce their hearts, though I don’t know what kind of terrible weapon could do that.
I pull the dagger out and wipe it on Corentin’s robes before sliding it back into its sheath. I wince as I pull up my pants. Theypress against the long gash in my thigh that’s still bleeding heavily. “It’s been a long time since I wanted a Lizard this badly.”
I dig through my cloak to find the right pocket and drink the swirling green and brown liquid. It will take time to heal all these wounds, but with as much of the night as is left, my wounds should be almost completely healed by dawn. Nothing is more than a surface wound. The fragility that comes with the Lizard makes my bones ache, but that’s something I’ve become very used to, and I ignore it.
Then, I face the door that Corentin walked through, and prepare for others that might respond to his screams. I’m surprised no one else has followed him, but then again, if my torturer was to be believed, maybe no one expected him to have any problems.Maybe there aren’t any reinforcements.Nyxthos was sure enough of my bondage that he left my daggers on me rather than with my bow and quiver in a pile against the wall.
There are no sounds of boots on the stone. It’s silent as though there isn’t anyone else here at all.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I think I’m safe. I put my wrap back on and already feel better. The buckles on my breastplate lock into place as they should be, but the cut down my tunic will be harder to fix. “Burn it all,” I mutter.
The steel wires, which had run all over my body, broke when I pulled away from the cross. The fragments litter the stone floor. This room had been one of violence only a few moments ago, but now it feels almost peaceful, like the darkness of this world might hide more than violence and fear.
