These Violent Delights

by dorsata

When Sharma captures Maerad and Cadvan, it seems as though his dominion over Annar and the seven kingdoms will be complete. Trapped in Dagra, and trying desperately to outmaneuver him, Maerad and Cadvan must rely on their love of each other to protect them. But love may not be enough, and in Dagra, it might even be ruinous. The first in a projected trilogy.

24. Chapter 24

Hi everyone! So now I think we're almost to the end of part one, one more chapter, maybe two. Though its been pretty dark, I hope you've enjoyed the story so far!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sharma smiled to himself as the vision of Innail vanished under the ripples of his pool. He savored his last glimpse of the city: buildings crumbling to dust, fire consuming the ruins and the School, overrun with his soldiers. He almost regretted not being there in person when his army took northern Annar for him, but it didn't matter now. He had won.

"What do you think, boy?" he asked Hem, who had been watching the chaos from his seat near the throne. "Less than two days to destroy a city, do you think it could be a record?"

Hem shuddered. "I don't know whose keeping track."

Sharma chuckled. "History." He stretched luxuriously, sighing in contentment. "Northern Annar is mine now, and Bards will be here soon. But what shall we do with them?"

Hem didn't know if Sharma was actually asking him, though he wouldn't put it past the monster. He turned his face away, to look out the window. It was dark in Dagra, but the fires that burned in the forges to make weapons were still glowing like stars in the distance. He wished Maerad were with him, it had been more than two months and he had no word of her. If she were here, she would know what to say to Sharma to make him stop his awful talk. She wasn't afraid of telling him off.

But it's better she's gone, he thought, she's safer away from Sharma.

"Slaves all," mused Sharma to himself, taking his seat and staring at the blank pool. "We'll have to make room for them here, perhaps the pits…"

Hem didn't know what the pits were, but he guessed it would be unpleasant. He had seen few prisoners from Turbansk over the last few weeks and supposed that they had been tucked away somewhere miserable. He realized suddenly that he had never been to northern Annar and now he never would. The thought left a strange ache in his chest, one more thing the Dark had taken from him.

"The First Circle, though, that will be different." Sharma eyes darted down to Hem and he smiled so all his teeth shone. "You will mee them, boy. Perhaps they will be shocked to find the last son of the house and Karn in my power. Perhaps then they will know my might."

Hem stared up at his horrid, handsome face and burned with rage. "Just because you can capture a boy doesn't make you great and powerful!" he spat viciously. "It just makes you small and mean."

Sharma looped the chain that held Hem around his wrist and jerked him forward so he fell at Sharma's feet. He inspected the boy closely. "You've a mouth on you," he said softly. "I ought to rip your tongue out."

Hem leaned away, aware of the dark eyes on him. His senses were screaming at him to run, to get as far away as possible from the thing opposite him, but there was no escape. "I wouldn't be able to tell those jokes you're so fond of."

Sharma laughed then and leaned even closer so Hem could smell his breath. He was surprised when he picked up an overpowering scent of liquor. "You're right, it's better if you can speak. I can make you beg in front of that idiot from Turbansk. It'll break his pathetic heart."

Hem swallowed back his protests. "Haven't you done him enough harm?"

"No. All the Bards who opposed me must be punished. I've only just begun to play with him." Sharma leaned back in his seat, released his tight hold on Hem. "That man has a long life ahead of him, and I intend to make him suffer for it."

Hem thought of the four Bards Sharma must hate the most: himself, Maerad, Saliman and Cadvan. It was like one of the tragic songs the Bards would play during meets or festivals: four great heroes, captured by the Dark and condemned to a life sorrow. Those songs broke peoples' hearts. Hem wondered if, in the future, songs would be sung of them, of their struggle and torment and their courage and their defeat.

My whole life was one sad song. This is an appropriate ending, I guess. But it wasn't how Saliman's song should have ended, because Saliman was brave and kind and good and served the Light his entire life. He deserved something better.

"One day," Hem said thickly, sounding far braver than he felt, "one day you'll get yours and all the pain and suffering you caused will come back around."

"That sounds almost like a threat to me," Sharma said softly. "You know what happens to people who threaten me, don't you boy?"

Hem laughed hollowly. "Threaten you? I tried to kill you! Don't you think I'm beyond that fear now?"

Sharma blinked, mildly impressed with the boy's courage, then grabbed him by a hank of hair and dragged him upright. Hem cried out, scrabbling at Sharma's hands, but Sharma held him fast. "Perhaps I ought to give you my mark too? Your sister has it right here." He poked Hem in his chest. "And that dolt you love like a father, here." He jabbed Hem's wrist. "So too that worthless Lirigon Bard."

Hem strained against his grip. "I'm not afraid," he insisted, saying it more to himself. "I'm not afraid."

"Of course, you're not," he cooed sweetly, and Hem heard the jangle of chains as Sharma removed his medallion of the Sick Moon. "Of course, you're a brave little boy, just like your father. Dorn of Pellinor, he wasn't afraid of my servants, he wasn't afraid even when they chopped off his head. Does that hurt? What my servants did?"

Hem was watching Sharma hold the medallion in his hands, heating it till it glowed in the dim light. "Your servants can rot!"

"You must want revenge, no? After all, I'm the reason your life has been so miserable, I'm the reason it will continue to. Where is your anger for my crimes?"

Hem looked up into his smirking face and his dead, dark eyes. "You'll never be free. The blood on your hands is a stain too deep for even eternity to wash away. You've cursed yourself."

A strange look passed over Sharma's face, like Hem had slapped him. Whatever he had expected Hem to say, that wasn't it. He bared his teeth in a snarl and threw Hem to the ground. The air was forced from his lungs by the blow, and Hem gasped, unable to prevent Sharma from pulling his shirt up and pressing the medallion into his right shoulder. Hem arched, shrieking, and his cries echoed around the room. Above him, Sharma chortled.

"You ought to be grateful for receiving my mark. Not many Bards will have it." Sharma eyed his work, admiring how the brand looked against Hem's darker skin. "And you'll see soon just how many Bards there are. Ettinor, Lirigon, Innail…they are mine."

Hem curled into a ball as the Sharma stood up. The boy was shaking, clutching his sides in a desperate attempt to ease his pain. Sharma smirked. Like his sister, the boy had a penchant for cursing and stubbornness, and like his sister, he needed to be taught obedience. He reflected on the other two Bards, Saliman and Cadvan, who had born his mark with resignation and silent fury, and realized that the children of Pellinor would require a different track altogether. Children had a resilience to torment that adults didn't, perhaps it was that they had more hope?

Sharma was still staring down at Hem, who was gasping for breath, when the door to his throne room was opened and Hull entered. It was looking particularly satisfied and bowed low as it approached the pair. Sharma didn't sit but gestured wide with his arms.

"What have you brought me to look so pleased?" he asked, wondering if the Bards from Lirigon were already there.

"The old man, my lord," said the Hull with a crooked grin. "Nelac of Lirigon."

Hem, who was lying on the ground, opened his eyes at the name. Not Nelac, he thought, panicked. By the Light, do not have Nelac here.

"Bring him in," Sharma said and Hem heard the smile in his voice. The Hull left to fetch Nelac and Sharma looked down on Hem. "An old acquaintance of yours?"

Hem shakily tried to get to his knees, determined not to let Nelac find him groveling at Sharma's feet. "You've met your match in Bards. Nelac is the greatest Bard in all of Annar and the seven kingdoms."

"Excellent," Sharma said briskly, "it'll serve me well to tell the world that I broke the mind of the greatest Bard of all." Hem stared up at him, horrified.

And that was Nelac's first view of Sharma. When he was brought into the throne room, he first saw Hem, kneeling at Sharma's feet, his back disfigured by a brand of the Sick Moon and his face drawn in lines of tension. Sharma was looking down on him with a predatory light in his eyes and a razor sharp smile. Nelac was shocked, too, that Sharma seemed so human in person. The stories of his terrible visage, of the forms he had been forced to assume after he had broken the Song, were apparently incorrect. Sharma had the look of a handsome man, a young king in the prime of his youth. It was only his eyes, when they switched up to Nelac, that were dark and merciless.

"Nelac of Lirigon," said Sharma, and his voice was melodic and deep. "I've just been talking with young Cai about you. He assures me you are the greatest Bard in the world and that I will be hard pressed to break you."

Nelac moved slowly into the room, watching Hem. The poor boy looked petrified and tired, and Nelac didn't dare wonder what Sharma had done to him. He said calmly, "I have spent myself in service to the Light. I have no intention of allowing myself to be enslaved by you."

"Yes, well," Sharma said with a hint of amusement, "two of your former students said much the same, but they have since found themselves in my employ."

Nelac bristled at Sharma's words, for he doubted that employment appropriately captured their current state. "Cadvan and Saliman."

"Indeed. They put up a mighty fight at first, but I brought them low. I forced their minds and ripped their True Names from their throats and now they are slaves to my will. I sent them with my army to aid in the conquest in the north. I hear Lirigon went hard, I hear Cadvan was broken hearted."

Nelac closed his eyes. Forcing a Bard's mind was tantamount to murder, a violation of a person's most secret self. He pitied Cadvan and Saliman their captivity, and he hated Sharma all the more for his callous disregard for a person's being. "You ought to be careful about breaking hearts so wantonly. It incites passions and lusts for revenge."

Sharma was intrigued. "Oh? You think Cadvan will turn his wrath on me? You think he will find a way to free himself and kill me?"

"You sow the seeds of your own discord," Nelac said simply.

"Cadvan will do what I tell him, because now, in addition to having his woman, I have his trusted mentor. The father of his magery and the man he most admires." Sharma abandoned his place beside Hem and approached Nelac. The old Bard had to fight the urge to back up: Sharma's presence was overwhelming. "And what of you, Nelac? By what bonds of love and friendship shall I have you?"

Nelac turned away under the intense, searching gaze. "None. Those things which I love you have already destroyed."

"Lirigon?" Sharma's eyes narrowed. "Cadvan and Saliman? But, come, there must be others you care for? Innocent men and women you would trade their safety for."

"I do not trust you to keep your word," Nelac responded, trying to buy himself more time because he knew that the end of this conversation would be the breaking of his mind.

Sharma made a wide, sweeping gesture toward Hem who was tugging listlessly on his chain. "I swore to Saliman to let him live, and see, he lives. And believe me, Nelac, I had reason for wanting him dead. That little whelp tried to kill me."

"And his sister? Where have you put Maerad?" Nelac kept the tremble out of his voice, but he feared the girl had been subject to some awful treatment.

Sharma perceived all of this and smiled loosely. "Cadvan's little lover? Don't fear for her, I kept my word to him too. She is safe and sound, learning the new way of things."

The last words caught Nelac up but he didn't pursue them. "You've caught me too late, I'm afraid. I've long since set aside lovers."

Sharma's face twisted into something ugly. "Soon, the Bards of all northern Annar will be brought to me, and when they do, you will have the chance to protect those you love. Do not pretend there aren't any."

"So, I am to wait?" Nelac asked sharply. "I am to sit I the comfort of your fastness and wait until those poor souls arrive so I can pick and choose whose life to spare?"

"Why sound so miserable about it? I'm giving you the opportunity to protect others."

"Yes, but for every person I choose, there are countless others that aren't chosen." Nelac's face darkened. "But I suppose that is part of your game?"

"You're half clever, you know that?" Sharma began to circle the older Bard, trying to decide how best to use him. "It took the others days to figure out that bittersweet part of my offer. Everything has consequences, even love, and you Bards never understood that. You mocked my desire for power, you said I didn't understand the ways of the heart, but I do. Now, it's your turn to be small and mean and pathetic. Now, you get to decide who lives and who dies."

Nelac's eyes moved to Hem, who was watching him a blank look. He suspected that had Hem tried to help him, Sharma would have been doubly vicious. "Free Maerad and Hem, give Cadvan and Saliman back their Names."

Sharma came to a halt, something dark and angry flashing across his eyes. "Never."

"Then there is nothing I want." Nelac turned to face Sharma properly. "You might as well take my Name now, since I won't be trading it for anything later."

Sharma stared unblinking at Nelac for a moment, debating his next step forward. His lips curled downward in a frustrated frown. "You are not lying," he said at last.

"Wait!" Hem called out, unable to help himself. Nelac couldn't just give up, he had to fight, he had to help them find a way to stop Sharma.

"Quiet, boy," Sharma growled. He stepped up to Nelac and took his chin in his hand. The Bard shivered at the touch and tried to focus his eyes elsewhere. Nelac wondered briefly how much it would hurt, how much he could really bear. Sharma's nails dug into his skin and he smiled toothily. "I think, though, we'll wait." He released Nelac in a rush of air and was sitting back on his throne, peering at the Bard.

"Waiting for a holiday?" Nelac asked dryly before he could help himself.

"I want the other Bards to see it," Sharma said lightly. "I want the most powerful Bards in all of Annar and the seven kingdoms see the great Nelac of Lirigon torn down. If I do it now, the only witness to your defeat is the boy and that's not good enough for a Bard of your stature."

"I'm flattered," Nelac said in a harsh voice.

"It'll prove excellent entertainment for the victory celebration." Sharma relaxed in his seat. "Until then, I think we'll keep you out of sight, somewhere quiet and dark where you can think on your future."

---

Malgorn came to groggily, his eyes unfocused and his head pounding. He tasted something bitter and realized that someone had shoved a length of cloth in his mouth. He tested his arms and found that his hands were bound behind him with cord so tight it dug into his wrists. Malgorn strained against the bonds but they didn't give and he slumped against whatever hard thing was supporting him, his last memories flashing before his eyes: the burning city of Innail, the Black Army overrunning his men, and Cadvan…Cadvan betraying him to the Dark. Suddenly, the room around him-the scene before him-came into focus.

He was in the Signing Hall, pressed up against one of the great pillars that supported the roof. To his side, sagging against her own ropes was Silvia, her head was bowed and she was gagged. Malgorn first noticed the cut on her forehead that was dribbling a stream of blood down her face, next the bruise on her cheek, and finally, that someone had removed her armor so she was dressed in nothing but a flimsy tunic and loose leggings. Her thought she looked painfully exposed in a world that was gripped by war, but she was breathing and he was beyond grateful for that.

Beyond her, on the next pillar was Kelia. She was in a similar state of undress and, hanging in ropes, sporting a bleeding gash on her side. From his limited view, Malgorn judged it wasn't fatal so long as it was cleaned promptly, but he didn't doubt it hurt. To his left, Indik was restrained, but he was awake, and though one of his eyes was swollen shut the other was fixed on the scene before them. Malgorn looked.

Cadvan was dodging the swing of a Hull, stumbling back a few steps and fetching up against a table. The Hull brought the sword up and then down like a hammer. Cadvan spun out of the way and the sword lodged itself in the table. He twisted like a snake, his own sword slicing a path through the air toward the Hull's neck, but the Hull threw up its hand and a pulse of energy rippled outward. Cadvan was flung back by a ball of air and his sword clanged as it landed on the stone floor. Malgorn watched the Hull grab the scruff of Cadvan's neck and drag him toward the empty fire pit in the center of the room. It raised its hand and the blank coals in the pit sputtered to life. The Hull took his right wrist and forced it toward the flames and Malgorn flinched away.

"Stop it," commanded a soft voice. "What use is there in burning his hands to quick when we might have need of them?"

"He attacked me," the Hull answered, throwing off Cadvan's struggling with a shrug. "He raised that sword to me!"

"Well, you were prodding the sleeping bear, weren't you?" Malgorn watched as another Hull emerged from the shadows, looking around the Signing Hall as if trying to recall a memory. After a moment, it shrugged dismissively. "Picking on his friends isn't nice."

"He had no right to come between me and my fun," the Hull groused, but it released Cadvan who clutched his wrist tightly.

"Save your fun till we'll back in Dagra, or, better yet, save it for another Bard. The woman is part of the First Circle, and you know our master wants them untouched upon arrival. He wants them for himself."

The Hull that had attacked Cadvan cast a dark look at Silvia and Malgorn bristled. "Let me have a little time with her. It'll prepare her for our master."

"I said no." The Hull had come up to where Cadvan was nursing his wrist and looked down on him fondly. It ruffled his hair like he was a small boy and smiled widely. "You'll hurt poor, little Cadvan's feelings, and he's already in such a sour mood as it is."

Malgorn saw Cadvan recoil from the touch. "Keep your foul hands off her," he said gruffly.

"There's no need for name calling, Cadvan." The Hull studied him a moment. "Imagine what they'll call you. Betrayer, traitor, liar. Doesn't feel very good, does it?"

Cadvan looked away and Malgorn felt a confusing tangle of emotions in his stomach. Cadvan had betrayed him and that anger, that hurt, went very deep. But he was his friend. And if the Hull's treatment of him was any indication, they were not allies. Cadvan turned his gaze away, toward the fire pit.

"Perhaps I betrayed Innail but I won't look the other way while you and yours hurt my friends."

"Think that will make them look on you fondly?" pondered the Hull, and its eyes moved up to where Malgorn and Indik were watching. "I doubt it. But let's ask, shall we?"

Cadvan followed Likud's gaze and noticed Malgorn and Indik watching him. Something in him seemed to flinch, but he managed to recover quickly enough. He stood, still holding his injured wrist and followed Likud across the room. The Hull looked from face to face, enjoying the sensation of fear and disgust that rolled off the two Bards.

"This must be quite an odd experience for you," the Hull said casually to Cadvan. "Not long ago, you were brothers-at-arms, now…well, now, I suppose you have quite a different relationship. Do you think they're going to forgive you for betraying Innail?"

Cadvan carefully didn't look at Malgorn when he said, "If they are angry, it is their right, but I would think two members of the First Circle may be wise enough to forgive me. One day."

Likud's thin lips pressed together in annoyance. "You ask forgiveness for your crimes from them? There is only one master you answer to now, Cadvan."

"The Nameless One isn't my master," Cadvan hissed, ignoring the shock on the other's Bards' faces.

"No? I was under impression you had sworn him your Name and service? I was under the impression you obeyed his orders? But perhaps I am wrong, perhaps you are a free man to do as you like. Go ahead, prove yourself."

Indik and Malgorn watched Cadvan carefully. He didn't have a sword, but he was surely possessed of an incredible Gift. He could strike the Hull down with White Fire if he chose. But Cadvan looked uncertainly between the two men and then back at Likud, and then lowered his gaze. Indik's eyes widened incredulously.

"As I suspected," Likud said, amusement clear in his voice. The Hull fixed Cadvan with a impetuous look, a sneer curling its lips. "Now, why don't you be a good little Bard and keep an eye on our First Circle while I go find that idiot from Turbansk."

Idiot from Turbansk? Malgorn mused. Saliman?

The Hull stormed off with a foul look and Cadvan didn't envy Saliman any. He waited until Likud had left before turning back to Malgorn and Indik. After a moment, he shook his head saying, "I suppose you have questions?" He tugged the gags free of their mouths.

Malgorn seemed to falter but Indik was fast. "What in the name of the Light are you doing here, Cadvan? And what are you doing with Hulls?"

"Nothing I enjoy."

Indik spat. "Don't play word games with me."

Cadvan looked suddenly helpless and a hollow laugh escaped him. "I suppose I'm here to be humiliated and punished for defying the Nameless One. I assure you, he was not happy with me when I went before him."

Indik breathed in sharply. "You were taken to Sharma?"

Cadvan's smile turned bitter. "Maerad and I and Saliman and Hem."

Malgorn recalled Hekibel's tale of Saliman and Hem's capture. He had thought then they might have been killed, but this…this was far worse. "What happened to Maerad and her brother?"

"Nothing." Cadvan's dark eyes moved to Malgorn. "Nothing yet. But that is another reason why I'm here."

Silvia's words came back to Malgorn, her promise that she would trade herself to the Nameless One if it protected him. He closed his eyes as if in pain. "He has Maerad and you-you gave him your Name in exchange for her?"

"Just so." Cadvan took a step back, but then glanced up at them both desperately. "I didn't want to. I would rather have died, but it wasn't my death he wanted. He wants us alive to see his victory, alive to live with our guilt."

Malgorn fidgeted. Cadvan had deceived him, but then…would he have done the same if Silvia were captive in Dagra? A terrible realization washed over him that he would soon be in the same situation. "Did he…force you?"

Cadvan considered the question with a twisted smile. "I gave him my Name and he used it to enter my mind. Was it forced? For three days I lived in torment while he sifted through my memories, my thoughts, my desires. Even now, he has left me with an injury I cannot heal, a door for his consciousness. But was it forced? I gave him my Name, I should have known what he would do with it."

Malgorn's eyes shifted to Silvia. "He is returned then? Did Maerad give him the Song?"

"She didn't have a choice," Cadvan sighed. "It wasn't just me and Saliman he was holding over her. It was all the Bards in all of Annar and the seven kingdoms. I think, had she fought him on it, this war would have ended even worse."

"Worse than this?" Indik jerked his chin toward the doors to the Singing Hall though which the desolation of Innail could be glimpsed. "Our home is destroyed, our people are slaves. You say it could be worse?"

"I would not underestimate the Nameless One's ability to do more harm," was all Cadvan said. Beside them, Silvia was stirring, tugging on her hands tiredly. Cadvan moved immediately to help her, removing the gag and brushing away some of the blood. When she saw his face, Silvia gasped.

"Cadvan! I thought it was a nightmare when I saw Saliman approaching me in battle, but then, if you're here it must have been real." Cadvan had a fairly good idea of what had happened when Saliman found Silvia in the fray. "Oh, Cadvan, I think I know what evil brought you here." Unlike Indik and Malgorn, Silvia didn't doubt for a minute that Cadvan and Saliman were as much a prisoner as she was, and as such, she felt nothing but pity for them.

"No evil, just a foolish heart," he said in a ragged voice.

"You and I both know that to love is never wrong," she responded. "It may bring us great pain, but it's not wrong."

Cadvan started, hearing the approach of Likud again. "We'll see."

Likud returned, marching Saliman, Vaclal and Finlan before him. Saliman checked on the spot when he saw Silvia awake and Malgorn watching him, and he looked down guiltily. Cadvan retreated from his spot by Silvia and went to join Saliman. Vaclal was smiling a little sadly at Malgorn who had only been a First Bard for so short a time and was now going to pay the price. But Finlan, when they reached the center of the room, collapsed. Saliman moved quickly to his side, checking his pulse and temperature.

"What a worthless little whelp." Likud watched while Saliman whispered some words in the Speech. Finlan's color improved and he groaned, but his eyes didn't open. "Can he do nothing right? Shall we just dig his grave now?"

Cadvan glowered. "Let the poor man have some rest."

Likud spun on Cadvan, his hand twitching like he was going to strike him. "There is no rest here, not for the likes of you! He can rest when he's dead." Finlan groaned again and then sat upright, using Saliman's hand for aid. He clutched his head, a pounding headache rendering him almost incapable of speaking. Likud rolled his eyes. "Be at peace, Finlan, from here on it's just a ride south to Dagra."

The Bards from Innail looked up, eyes flashing. "So, your master has requested our presence?" Malgorn asked stiffly.

"Your master now, Malgorn of Innail." Likud paused a moment, glowering at Malgorn. "You look familiar, have I tried to kill you before?"

Malgorn brushed off the comment. "I'll die before I swear an oath to-"

"Oh, shut up," Likud said loudly, gesturing to the Bards behind him. "Is that the only thing you people say? You think Cadvan and Saliman didn't swear they'd die before taking their oaths? You think the oaf Finlan didn't offer himself up to my blade? You think Vaclal didn't decry my invasion? Each and everyone of them said the exact same thing, and each and everyone of them serves the Nameless One now. You are not different, you are not special. If anything, you are more like them than you know."

Cadvan made to intercede on Malgorn's behalf but Likud crossed the room and grabbed a handful of Silvia's long hair, jerking it so she was forced to look at his hideous face. "A pretty little wife who needs protection from the minions of the Dark. Will you surrender her to wolves, Malgorn? Will you let the Nameless One's men do as they please with her, watch while they use her and then kill her?"

Silvia twisted against his grip, trying to catch Malgorn's eyes. "Don't! I'm not worth that."

"Listen to her." Likud ran his free hand over her face, caressing her cheek. He pressed his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Silvia squirmed to get away and Malgorn cursed loudly, throwing all his weight against the rope. "You're worth it, Silvia," Likud assured her.

"Don't touch her," Malgorn ordered, glaring daggers at the Hull.

"And you really think your husband isn't going to give the Nameless One his Name?" Likud directed the question at Silvia. "He just went to pieces over a kiss."

Silvia could taste something that reminded her of blood on her lips. "I'm not afraid of what he'll do."

Likud raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? But what about what you'll do? I've heard things Cadvan hasn't about his precious Maerad. She's not nearly as safe and tucked away as he thinks." Silvia's eyes widened and Likud's grin widened. "I pity her, what those men do to her, but perhaps you'll put an end to it?"

"You're lying," Silvia said numbly. "If the Nameless One broke his oath Cadvan could-"

"Do nothing," Likud finished. "His Name is still in the Nameless One's keeping. Perhaps if a member of the First Circle were to offer up a trade, though, maybe that would convince him to release the girl. You know where she grew up, you know what those men tried to do to her, and now…and now she'll learn."

"No!" Silvia cried and Likud shoved her back against the wall. "No, don't touch her!"

"Bit too late for that," observed Likud wryly, coming now to Malgorn. "She's beautiful, your wife. It's been a long time since I've desired a woman, but kissing her, I almost remember what it felt like."

Malgorn's face had gone white but his eyes were hard and cold. "If you lay a hand on her again I'll kill you."

Likud thought Malgorn was telling the truth. "I'll put more than a hand on her."

Malgorn lost control of his temper and a spark of White Fire glowed in his palm. It caught the ropes and they began to fray. Likud jerked back. "Idiots! Who tied them up?" and then threw out his hand, the force of his spell knocking Malgorn against the pillar and holding him there. "Cadvan, I'm going to whip you for that!"

Cadvan was smarting at his treatment of Silvia. "It's what you deserve."

Likud made a sound that sounded like teeth grounding together as a soldier ran forward to address Malgorn's bonds. "Speaking of whipping," the Hull growled, studying Malgorn closely, "that temper of yours might benefit from some."

Silvia, who had recovered from the Hull's kiss, looked horrified. "If you want him to survive to Dagra, you can't."

Likud glanced at her. "And you're a doctor, I suppose? A doctor who just happens to know how much pain her husband can tolerate before collapsing into death?"

"Don't get involved in this Silvia," Malgorn ordered sharply, eyeing the Hull closely. "Besides, there is no torment this Hull could bring against me that could undo me."

Likud found this remark rather interesting. "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of. The Nameless One ordered the First Bards be brought to him intact, but I don't see how a whipping would damage your mind. And, since you seem so sure of your own capabilities…" Likud turned to a solider nearby. "Bring me a whip, something with a good grip. I intend to use it thoroughly."

Malgorn's face had gone pale, but his eyes were defiant. "If I am to go to the Nameless One, then this is meaningless."

"We'll see how you feel after," Likud said, turning away and grinning widely at Cadvan. "Your friends are almost as stubborn as you. You should have spoken some sense to them before they came before me."

"You don't need to do this," Cadvan said urgently. "Malgorn is just trying to protect his wife."

"And now, he's going to pay for that privilege," Likud returned sweetly. "You two can commiserate on that fact once I'm done with him."

Cadvan's eyes moved from Likud to Saliman and finally to Malgorn. Malgorn was no fool, and when he saw the look on Cadvan's face, trepidation twisted his stomach. He'd meant his threats to Likud, but that didn't mean he wanted to be whipped. When the soldier returned with a whip curled around his arm like a black snake, Malgorn drew a sharp breath. Likud took it in hand, weighing the whip as if that would determine its value. He smiled, looking about the room at everyone.

"Have no fear, Malgorn, I'm not going to cut up your handsome face like I did Cadvan. I think your back will suit just fine." Malgorn hadn't taken his eyes from the whip and started when someone loosened his bonds so he could be turned about. Silvia gave a startled cry when the soldier ripped his tunic, exposing his back.

Malgorn pressed his face against the cool stone of the pillar, doing his best to concentrate on anything else. The room became painfully still and Malgorn quivered when Likud loosened his grip on the whip and it slapped the ground lazily. He shifted his gaze away from Silvia, to the shattered windows of the Singing Hall through which he could see the pale blue sky through a haze of smoke. He carefully set his teeth against each other, afraid he would bite his tongue off if it was in between. Behind him, Likud studied the contours of Malgorn's back like he was trying to memorize it or perhaps see where it was most vulnerable. Likud was pleased that the Bard had accrued an impressive array of bruises and cuts during his battle with the Dark, but this was going to be a nice addition.

When the whip cracked, Malgorn betrayed fear and flinched, clamping his eyes shut. A flash of red pain ran from his shoulder to his hip and he gasped raggedly. He tried to take a breath, but the second lash fell just as he inhaled and it came out as a sharp grasp. The Hull paused, and Malgorn breathed in, but the air escaped him when the third blow fell. He could feel something hot and wet dribble down his back, and Malgorn realized it was his blood. A cold calculating part of him knew it would take hundreds of stitches to close the wounds, but his thoughts were cut short by another two blows delivered in quick succession. His skin burned and felt oddly loose on his back. Likud glared at the Bard, furious he hadn't had the decency to scream or beg for it to stop. His arm swung back and he brought the whip down viciously, snarling when Malgorn slumped but didn't cry out.

"Would you like it to stop?" the Hull called. Cadvan and Saliman both glowered at the tender tone, like Likud was actually curious if Malgorn wished him to stop. "You just need to say so."

Malgorn, pinned against the pillar, had lost sensation in his legs. He wondered if he was just going to collapse unconscious from the pain. Abstractly, he considered that he had never been whipped before, at least not properly. His parents weren't Bards and, since he wasn't raised by the standards Bards kept for children, his father had taken a belt to him occasionally. But this was undoubtedly worse. He thought that the flesh would be torn entirely from his back at this rate.

Likud waited a moment to listen for Malgorn's response, but when none were forthcoming, he slashed the whip at the Bard again. This time, Malgorn's back arched and he gave a guttural scream. Likud purred with pleasure. "Lucky number seven. Not bad for a Bard!"

"Stop this!" Silvia demanded, thinking rightly that Malgorn was beyond pleading. "Stop this, he can't breath!"

"Oh no," Likud cried in mock horror. "Well, we can't have that. Here, hold this," he shoved the whip into Cadvan's unwilling hands and rushed over to Malgorn. Standing directly to his side, he scoured Malgorn's pale, sweaty face hungrily. "What's this, First Bard? Are you suddenly incapable of making words? I thought that was all you Bards did, prattle on and on about the Light and truth and love."

Malgorn spat out a mouth of blood. He'd bitten his lip clean through. He took a shaky breath. "The Light will have you."

"Oh, will it?" Likud whispered, leaning closer so his lips brushed Malgorn's ears. "Let me tell you a little secret, First Bard. This, what I've done to you, this is nothing. This is just the beginning of a long and painful existence you will have to bear. This is just you rapping on the door to enter. When you're in Dagra and the Nameless One is done with you and you're mine to play with, then we will begin. But this," Likud gestured to Malgorn's back, "this is just how we say hello. So, I ask again, do you want me to stop?"

Malgorn could taste bile. "You won't."

"I might show mercy if you're appropriately repentant," Likud offered. "Just say, please stop. That's all, just those words, tell me-tell the whole room-you want it stop. Malgorn, there is nothing to be gained by opposing me, you've already lost. Spare yourself pointless suffering." When Malgorn still said nothing, Likud pressed on. "Who will protect your wife if you're unconscious?"

It was a poor excuse because Silvia would defend herself, but Malgorn wanted it to stop. The numbness had left him now and Malgorn's entire body was on fire. His back felt like it had been shredded and his lungs ached when he breathed. He nodded his head slowly, but Likud smirked.

"You have to say it," he breathed. "Nice, and loud, for everyone to hear."

Malgorn opened his mouth but Likud vanished, trapezing back to his place. He grabbed the whip from Cadvan and held his arms wide. He looked expectantly around the room, smiling at the faces gone pale with fear. "Do you want me to stop, Malgorn?" he asked loudly and clearly.

Malgorn wasn't sure his voice would carry, but he managed to croak, "Yes."

Likud leaned closer, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, stop whipping me." Each word had to be ripped from his throat, he was in so much pain.

"That sounds like a command, not a request," Likud mused.

"Stop this!" Cadvan hissed, but Likud rounded on him, hand raised as if he were going to strike him.

"Keep your mouth shut rat."

Malgorn swallowed his blood and said again, "Please stop whipping me."

Likud looked around the room, from the impassive faces of the soldiers, to the jeering faces of the Hulls, and the horrified faces of the Bards. He shrugged carelessly. "Well, since you ask so nicely." Likud tossed the whip aside and turned to the nearest Hull. "I think that was enough excitement for the day. Why don't we leave the Bards to each other's company and explore the spoils of victory?"

Cadvan and Saliman waited with bated breath while the Hulls departed, followed closely by the soldiers who closed and barred the doors. As soon as they were gone, Cadvan and Saliman rushed forward to loosen the bonds and help the other Bards down. Kelia was still unconscious and was laid carefully by Finlan. Indik needed support from Saliman as his leg had a gash in it. Silvia, though, needed no one, and as soon as Cadvan had freed her, she hurried to Malgorn, taking his face in her hands.

"You shouldn't have risen to his taunts, my love," she murmured, kissing him fiercely. "You should have let me deal with the Hull."

"I couldn't," Malgorn rasped.

"Can you hold him, Silvia?" Cadvan asked, loosening the rope. "He'll need someone to support him." Silvia nodded, never taking her hands or eyes away from Malgorn's face, and when Cadvan untied him, Malgorn staggered back but Silvia kept him upright. Cadvan came around and got his arm around Malgorn's hip and led him away to the other Bards.

"We'll need to clean the wounds," Silvia said, staring at his back fretfully. "He'll get an infection otherwise…" Her medically trained mind was trying to distract her with the herbs and alcohols they'd need, the bandages and threads and needles to keep the wounds closed.

"I'm not sure we'll come by much of that here," Saliman said darkly. He had trained as a healer before leaving Turbansk to study with Nelac and recognized the futility of trying to heal the injuries. "Will boiling water and bandages do?"

Silvia looked appalled. "Look at him! He needs stitches at the very least!"

Saliman didn't rise to her temper but kept his voice level. "I understand, but I doubt the Hulls are going to give us that. Can we wrap the wounds for now, keep changing the bandages until we can convince someone to give us supplies?"

Silvia studied Malgorn's slumped profile. He had slipped into unconsciousness, but the whip lashes were still dribbling blood down his back. They went deep, deep enough that even had she had the supplies and the energy and skill, he'd still scar. She worried that some of the more serious lashes had torn muscles in his back; if they had, he would suffer reduced mobility the rest of his life. His breath came in short, shallow gasps and Silvia suspected that even in sleep he was in pain, and she felt tears in her eyes. They didn't fall, by sheer will alone, but her sight blurred and her throat tightened. "I just want him to heal."

"He won't die," Cadvan said softly, sensing the extremity of her pain, and thought his words seemed hollow and pointless.

"No," Silvia agreed suddenly coming to herself. She began scouring the room for something to boil water in, ordering the other Bards to start a fire, and find any fabric that might be used as bandaging. After half an hour, Silvia had a tradition Turbanskian wine bowl set over the huge fire pit in the center of the room, steam rising steadily into the air as water bubbled. Cadvan and Saliman supported Malgorn as Silvia first cleaned the lashes then gently wrapped them in torn strips of an abandoned cloak. She carefully tied the ends and sat back.

"Someone will have to stay up with him in case he awakens. He'll be in pain," she hedged. She wanted to stay with him, but her face was drawn from exhaustion and her eyes were hazy. "I'll be able to keep watch the first few hours-"

"Leave it to us," Cadvan said, waving to himself, Saliman and Vaclal. "You should sleep. Should he awaken, we'll fetch you."

Silvia hesitated. "He'll need a healer."

"Then lucky I'm here," Saliman said, smiling just a little. "It's been a while, but I think I know my way around a few charms."

Vaclal snorted just a little. "I trained under Nelac my entire time in School, Saliman. Leave the healing to a healer."

Saliman's smiled broadened. "A challenge. Who can provide the best care to the injured? Whose patients will be the most restored come morning?"

Cadvan rolled his eyes and then waved Silvia aside. "You're not wrong that he should be watched at all times, and you'll have plenty of opportunity, but if you're planning to keep vigil over the next few days, you'll need rest now. Take it."

Silvia bowed her head. She would have liked to stay up, caressing Malgorn's face and kissing his brow. She would have liked to listen to Saliman and Vaclal verbally spar and take some humor in their jests. She would have liked to sit beside Cadvan and ask him about Maerad. But she was tired and she was scared and she was sad. She moved aside to where Kelia was sleeping and curled up on the floor beside her. She closed her eyes on the terrible vision before her and forced herself to relax and sink into sleep.

The other Bards stayed up long into the night, sharing whispered conversations. Saliman and Vaclal took turns checking Malgorn and washing and replacing his bandages. Though neither of them wanted to admit it, Silvia was right, he was going to need proper medical supplies if he was going to survive the injuries. Outside, the sounds of a conquered city drifted in: screams from innocents, howls from dog soldiers, and harsh, impassionate shouts from soldiers. A little after midnight, Vaclal pleaded exhaustion and slept. Saliman and Cadvan sat alone.

"This has been a dark day," Saliman said solemnly. "So long as I live, I will not forget this."

"I think that was the Nameless One's point," said Cadvan dryly. He was too tired of the war to care anymore. He felt callous and indifferent, and a part of him was scared he would be like this forever: utterly unfazed by devastation.

"Is it strange that I almost wish I had stayed in Dagra?" Saliman wondered. "For all the torment I would have endured at the hands of the Nameless One, I wish I would have been there than had to see this."

"That's not surprising in the least." Cadvan glanced at Malgorn, checking his pulse. This man had been taken captive because of Cadvan, his blood was on Cadvan's hands. "I think Malgorn is running a fever."

Saliman felt his forehead. "It's not surprising. He has an infection from the injuries. We'll have to try and convince Likud to give us antibiotics tomorrow."

"I'll do it," Cadvan sighed. "We all know I'm his favorite."

Saliman chuckled. "You certainly have a way with him. With all our little Dark acquaintances, really. I think the Nameless One might actually be fond of you, if such a thing were possible."

"Only for what I can give him," Cadvan amended. "But he's made very clear in the past that I'm merely one more tool in his hand."

Saliman sighed loudly. "How do you think Hem and Maerad are faring?"

Cadvan turned away to hide the frown on his face. He spent most of his time now thinking of Maerad, and his thoughts were always dark. "We have done everything he asked. They must be just as we left them."

"It'll have been at least three months by the time we return, if we're making good time on the journey south. Three months alone in Dagra with only the Nameless One for company."

"They had each other," Cadvan countered quickly.

Saliman shifted in his seat. "Have you given any thought to what happens to us when we get back? Or why the Nameless One seems so keen to have the First Circles brought to him alive?"

"I've tried no to, but I can only guess something foul. Think of it, he's gathering the most powerful Bards on the continent. If he is going to use them to work some spell, it'll be a mighty thing indeed."

"What more could he possibly want?" Saliman spat. "Is the world and everything in it not enough?"

"No," Cadvan said shortly.

Saliman asked Cadvan if he would watch Malgorn for the next few hours, as he was tired and guessed his talents in healing would be needed the next day. Cadvan shooed him away and returned to his vigil beside Malgorn. It wasn't until the very late hours of night that Malgorn stirred weakly and groaned and Cadvan snapped to attention.

"Malgorn, my friend," he said in a low voice, feeling his temperature and rubbing his shoulder. "Malgorn, are you awake?"

"That or I'm dead and this is a dream," he said hoarsely.

"You're not dead," Cadvan assured him, smiling faintly. Malgorn reached up and rubbed his face. When his eyes opened they were bright with pain and, Cadvan thought, fever. "You've proven yourself quite impossible to kill. Stumped the commander of the Black Army himself."

Malgorn blinked owlishly. "Stumped him? He's all but torn me apart. By the Light, it hurts, Cadvan."

Cadvan bowed his head. "Tomorrow morning, we'll get antibiotics and needle and gut to stitch you up. This won't last, Malgorn, I promise."

He breathed heavily, like it was struggle. "Of course, you will, you heard the Hull, I must live to reach Dagra. Can't have me dying on the road from septicemia."

"I'd be more frightened of what Silvia will do to us if we let any more harm befall you. She cleaned and dressed your wounds herself, and then sat by your side until she almost collapsed from exhaustion and even then, we were warned that if you woke up, we should get her."

"Not yet," Malgorn said sharply, though his face softened at the thought of Silvia tending his wounds. "Cadvan, I need you to promise me something. I need you to swear you'll protect her if I-"

"Don't," Cadvan quickly cut him off. "You're not going to die."

"No, probably not, but I'm in no position to protect her. It's a long road from here to there and I want to know she'll get there safely." Malgorn grimaced. "She's a strong woman, but I fear part of her will break over our defeat, and I don't know that she'll be able to defend herself should one of the soldiers come after her."

"The Hulls have strict orders," Cadvan reminded him.

"It's not the Hulls I fear." Malgorn wouldn't say more, but Cadvan had a fairly good idea. "Please, Cadvan, consider it return for capturing me in the street. Please. This journey will go easier on me if I know she's with you."

Cadvan ran a hand through his hair. "I'll have a hard time keeping her away from you."

"It's fine. Just-just during the day, have her ride with you, and keep her in your sight, and-"

Cadvan held up his hand, silencing his friend. "I'll do this. Silvia won't thank me for being parted from you, but I'll keep her with me if they take you."

Malgorn shifted, but the movement aggravated his back and he moaned. "This will be a painful journey, and there is no soft bed at the end. The Light see me through this."

"We will," Cadvan said passionately, clutching Malgorn's hand tightly and holding his eye. "We willsee you safely through."