CHAPTER 29

I remained silent, appearing unfazed by Yelena's tears. She cried, the saltwater staining my undershirt. I didn't have the heart to tell her to let me go when they came back. She clung to me desperately, and, although I knew that it would mean a harsher sentence for me, I didn't attempt to make her let go. The Blood Magicians pried her off me by force, holding her back while she screamed and flailed her limbs, trying to pull me back to her.

I was forced into a dark wagon. Our voyage lasted several days, but I was never released, not even to be fed. In fact, I got no food. I prayed that Ari and Janco would be smart enough to save Yelena and not attempt to follow the wagon.

I was tied to one of the posts in the middle of the square. My wrists were secured above my head from where I stood. The binds dug painfully into my skin. I heard the sharp sound of a swinging whip behind me. My muscles clenched.

People—hostages—were brought out here and forced to stand in the space around my post. We were in a village, not yet destroyed, but already filled with so much fear; you could taste it in the air. So this is how they managed to keep everyone in order—by forcing them to watch those who had disobeyed suffer—knowing that it could be them next.

The Blood Magician spoke. "This man, Valek Ixia," I heard the audience draw breath at my name. "Has been caught on our land, trespassing. We do not treat those who do not follow the rules we impose lightly. They are punished severely, as he shall be, publicly, in warning to others." The Blood Magicians had a much larger hold then I thought. They must have taken over the government.

My shirt was ripped away. Shit. This was just like under the King's power. Public whippings to keep the people in constant fear—forcing them to obey his rules. I heard the whip slap again. I braced myself, but no time of preparation could have made me even remotely ready for this.

Pain exploded in my shoulder. I panted for air. I turned slightly to glance at the people watching for their reaction, but received a slash across my cheek. I couldn't hold in the howl of pain this time. And then another. And another. And another... Each blow was a harsh reminder of how I failed to save Yelena. I fell to my knees somewhere in the twenties. My arms stretched far above me. My cheeks were wet. My reputation was as good as gone, but I couldn't bring myself to care in this moment. The pain was surreal. I prayed for oblivion to take me.

And it did, eventually.

I awoke to a sharp stinging. I tried to see better, but found that only one of my eyes could open entirely. The other had swelled shut with the lash that I had received. My back was on fire and my wrists were throbbing. I looked up with difficulty to see that the rope that had been used to tie them was cutting into my skin. My hands were darker, from the lack of blood flow. I sighed and leaned forward to rest my forehead against the stockade. My arms ached painfully at supporting my whole weight, and did nothing to help the damage on my back.

A small number of tears managed to escape before I stopped them. The right side of my face was throbbing. I yearned to put something cold to it, to subdue the heat of it and numb the pain—even just a little bit. It was definitely going towards infection. I wondered how long I'd been here. I supposed it was all afternoon and night of yesterday, and some part of the morning today, judging by the sun. I hoped that Ari and Janco had done a better job than me at rescuing Yelena.

Voices attracted my attention, but I didn't turn around. My emotions were too clear and I knew they would be revealed if I turned to face them. "Don't go near him, Cybele. He's a killer," a man commanded.

"Oh, shut up. He's hurt. Why doesn't anyone seem to notice that? He's been hanging there unconscious for two days, now, and no one has even lifted a finger to help him." Two days. I had wasted precious time. The man begun to protest, but Cybele cut him off, "I don't care who he is. He is a human being and I'm going to help him."

I heard footsteps approach me. I could feel curious eyes on me, judging to see how I would react. The woman—Cybele—lowered herself to her knees beside me. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. I shrugged. The movement was painful, but my voice would most probably break if I said anything. "I brought you something," she said again.

She placed something on the ground beside me. The sloshing of water could be heard as she took something out of the bowl. Without warning, she pressed a cool piece of cloth to my wounded cheek. I hissed at the sting and jerked away. She pulled it back, but said, "I know it burns, but it keeps infection away." Her voice was filled with motherly concern. I wondered what she looked like. I looked up to get a better look at her and found her to be no older than Dilana—the seamstress at the castle.

She took my movement to be a sign to continue and brought the wet fabric to my face again. This time though, she held me still with her other hand. After a while, the sting disappeared and was replaced by a cool soothing. I relaxed a little. But Cybele was much too close for my comfort.

She suddenly moved the fabric to my back. I yelped. I didn't know how much damage had been caused exactly, but I could imagine that my back resembled a bloody slab of meat. She didn't respond to my growls and just pressed the cloth to my skin—or what was left of it—until she decided that the medicine had purged what it could.

Then she took a knife from her belt. My good eye closed to a slit at the sight of it. It wasn't a particularly good knife, but who knew what she could do to me while I was still tied up here helpless. Cybele noticed and crouched next to me.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered so quietly that even I had trouble understanding. It was clearly a comment that was meant only for me, and not the people watching. "I'm going to cut the rope. But I have a single condition." I looked at her as well as I could. "You're not allowed to run off. You stay here, until you've been properly cared for." I watched her, uncertain. She seemed sincere, but who knew. I'd never been cared for before. I hardly ever got sick and my wounds were always minimal. I'd rather treat them myself than raise the suspicions of the medic and start unnecessary rumours.

Slowly, I nodded. What would it change, anyway? I couldn't exactly just take off in the state I was. I knew it would be better for me to get recover so I could make better time after I healed. Cybele smiled and moved to my hands.

My reaction was unexpected by everyone. Even myself. The rope was the only thing that kept me hanging. When it released me, I slumped to the ground. Cybele ran over. "Sir, are you okay? Sir, can you hear me?"

"Valek," I answered. "Just, Valek." I sat up, aiding myself with shaking arms. Cybele nodded. My recently cleaned wounds were now filled with dust and sand from the street.

Cybele looked around towards the others and called, "Someone, help him stand." Two men helped me to my feet and I leaned on their shoulders, accepting with great difficulty the fact that I wouldn't be going anywhere without their help. "Take him to my clinic. I'll take care of him there." I was dragged off, but I didn't know where, because I passed out in route.

I lay on my stomach on something soft. That I was grateful for—my mangled back wasn't touching anything. But something was touching it. Instinctively, I reached out to push it away, but it only resulted in a pained yelp on my part. Giving up on that, I opened my eyes slowly. Cybele was standing over me, cleaning out the whip lashes once again. Judging by the blood on the cloth she used, I guessed there was quite a lot of them. I groaned. Cybele turned to me.

"You're awake," she said. "That's good. You should eat something. You probably haven't eaten in a while." I realized I was ravenous. My stomach was having painful contractions and I knew that she was right. I just nodded. "I'll get you something." After the defenestration of the supplies she had used to clean my wounds—which were far away from the state they needed to be in to be used again—she left the room.

She returned with several slices of bread, all of them coated with something different. I watched them in wonder. Never in my life had I been so grateful for a piece of dough. It didn't take me that long to find out that I could barely move on my own. It was agony. Cybele gave me sympathetic smile and laid the plate on the table. She picked one up and brought it to my lips. I didn't react. However damaged my reputation was, I refused to get hand fed by a medic like a child. I surely was not that invalid.

"Come on, Valek. I know you're the tough assassin, but you have to eat. If you keep trying to play tough, you're going to die. You need food to have the energy to heal." She moved the sandwich across my mouth in temptation. Eventually, I gave up and let her feed me. The smell was too tempting and she was right. I did need my strength if I was going to get better and see Yelena—I sincerely hoped that Ari and Janco had rescued her already.

I felt much better after I ate. Some of my strength was returning, but I doubted that I would get better by tomorrow. Cybele ran a hand through my hair before leaving the room. "Get some sleep."

It took me a total of three days to sit up and then another week to walk around. As soon as that was possible, I became 'difficult', as Cybele put it. She couldn't get me to lie down under any circumstances. The only time I actually lay down, was when I went to bed. All in all, it took three weeks for the whip lashes to start scabbing and I could wear a shirt again. Before, my torso had simply been wrapped in medication soaked bandages.

I decided I was leaving tonight. I had already wasted too much time here. I had to go north, to meet up with the others, like I had promised. I had a good feeling that Yelena was already there, with all the disruption Opal and I had caused.

I opened my eyes and silently slid off the bed. I had been wrapped in bandages again. I pulled a tunic over them and gathered extra gauze for the trip. Then I looked through the drawers of the room that had been my own during the past month for more clothing. I could hear footsteps coming down the hallway, but I didn't make an effort to hide or get back into bed. Cybele walked in with a lantern.

"And, just what do you think you are doing?" she asked me.

"Leaving, I have to go. I've wasted too much time." I answered honestly.

Cybele sighed. "Why? Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why do you have to leave, anyway?"

"I have to go up north." I continued walking around the room and packing my bags.

"Why is that?"

"To help Yelena," I replied without thinking. I clasped the bag shut and slung it over my shoulder.

"The Soulfinder? She is alive?" The woman gasped. I didn't answer; I just pushed past Cybele and out of the room. She followed me to the door.

When I got there, I pushed it open, but remembered something. Curious glances were being cast in the houses direction and now that I was stalking out, there were an even bigger number of them.

I turned to Cybele and said, "Thank you. For helping me, when no one else would. You have my word that I will repay you someday." I touched her shoulder gently. Then I turned abruptly and went out into the night, without looking over my shoulder.

I paused and turned back suddenly. "Don't do anything stupid. You'll be fine—the entire village. Just lay low for a while, I'll send someone to help out here." I was thinking about my men, who were still loyal to me.

"Don't go back to that camp," she ordered. "They'll kill you." There was a certain intensity to her voice.

"I won't."

"Promise," she said. I looked at her, turning, studying her closely.

"I promise."