I spent too much time writing today. Argh. I mean, I'm glad that I figured some plot things out, but I have things to do! D: Actually having a life is haaard, people. Haaard.
Hey, all. I'm sorry to be late again. My schedule next week isn't looking too promising, either... I'll do my best, but please brace yourselves for a late (or nonexistent) chapter next week. I reaaally don't want to put this on hiatus again, but I'm managing to have late updates even when publishing chapters that I wrote months ago! I only have a couple more chapters that are mostly done, and then I actually have to start writing again. And the finale, at that. We'll see how that goes...
Complaining rant is over. Heyy, y'all! Fall is here. Pumpkin spice and candy corn and sweater season is here. (I use "sweater season" liberally: this season is actually year-round for me XD) (Also, isn't it ironic that all these warm colors herald the beginning of the COLD season?)
Stay warm and safe, people. And prayers to those of you who have been affected by the natural disasters sweeping the nation right now.
Not Like You
By the sixth morning inside the King's Keep, most of Varasach's smaller burns had healed. Many blisters on her hands, back, and feet, however, remained tender, forcing her to continue spending her days resting. She had been allowed to get up and walk- with Senai's help- for a few minutes the previous evening. That did very little to ease her restlessness and loneliness.
Garmadon rarely came to see her. And even when he did, he was good at keeping the conversation focused on her health, and never stayed with her for longer than a few minutes. Varasach had no chance to confront him again about the South.
At least I have you to keep me company, Varasach thought, petting Pigeon's thick, warm hair. She was grateful to finally have the bandages off her hands so she could feel his soft fur properly.
The cat flicked his tail, but otherwise remained motionless on Varasach's lap. It amazed her how much time Pigeon could spend sleeping. And it seemed that anytime he wasn't asleep, he was grooming himself. She'd never seen a creature so lazy before.
"You are so cute, though," she murmured in the Dark Tongue to Pigeon, and rubbed between his ears with two fingers. He finally lifted his head to lick his paws, and then rolled over to give Varasach's hand the same treatment. His scratchy tongue tickled Varasach's skin, and she smiled, gently scooping up the large cat in her arms. She buried her face in his fur and breathed deeply; his scent was indescribably sweet, like a forest. She loved how his entire body vibrated when he purred.
A soft knock came at the bedroom door. Varasach withdrew her head from Pigeon's fur as the door was opened, admitting a new Guard for the morning shift.
The young Guard, Deniel, smiled and nodded as he entered. The older Guard left without a word. The door was shut and, per the norm, Deniel took up his spot against the doorframe, took out his book, and began to read.
Of the four Guards that came to Varasach's room daily, Deniel was the only one to carry a book. How one could stare at sheets of paper for hours on end baffled Varasach.
Though, I suppose when your job is to stand still all day long, you appreciate whatever forms of entertainment you can find…
"Do you ever get bored?" Varasach asked.
Deniel looked up and stared at her for a moment. "…Bored?"
"Yes." She gestured to his book. "You are always looking at that book when I see you. Doesn't it get boring?"
Deniel looked at his book, and then at Varasach again. He shrugged. "I…well, it depends on the book, I guess. This one keeps me interested. Mostly."
"Oh." Varasach pondered this. So there were different kinds of books, then. How many kinds? She knew that Cole liked to write in his book- a "journal," he called it. And on the Dark Island, the slaves in charge of inventory wrote numbers in their books. And then, of course, there was the Book, which Kyle, Josi, and Misako enjoyed so much. Was Deniel reading a book like one of these?
"Do you ever get bored, Vara?" Deniel asked, drawing her from her musings.
"Yes," Varasach admitted.
"What do you do to keep you busy?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know." Deniel raised a dark eyebrow. "You don't have…I don't know…a hobby? Your servant knits. She hasn't taught you how?"
"I can't." Varasach raised her left hand so the Guard could see her missing fingers.
Deniel grimaced. "Oh…right. Sorry. Do you like to, uh…" He raised his book. "Read?"
"I can't read yet. The Lord Rector says that I will have a…um, what is the word- tutor- as soon as I am healed."
Deniel's head tilted in bewilderment. "Oh. Well, do you draw?"
Varasach shook her head. She'd tried drawing at Senai's suggestion several days ago, but it didn't appeal to her. The pictures never came out on the page the way she wanted.
"Well, could you…" Deniel waved his hand as he searched for more suggestions. "Hosts, Vara. You do nothing all day?"
"I have Pigeon," Varasach offered.
"Yes, but no one reads to you? You could at least have a musician come and play for you."
"I don't want them to."
"Why not?"
"I don't know." Varasach flushed, looking down at the cat stretched across her legs, dozing with a contented smile.
"Begging your pardon, but you're the Princess. It's all right to call for people to come and entertain you."
"I don't want them to," Varasach said again.
Deniel sighed. He reopened his book, turned a few pages, and was quiet again.
Then, to Varasach's horror, he began to read out loud.
" 'They say you don't know beauty,' " he began, " 'Until you've seen a rose.' "
"What are you doing?" Varasach demanded. Her voice squeaked, causing Pigeon to raise his head with a start. He settled back down with his ears pinned back, annoyed.
"I'm reading," Deniel said calmly. " 'Until you've stooped to stroke its petals-' "
"You really don't have to," Varasach said. "Please-"
"I want to, Vara. It's no trouble." Deniel's eyes rose from the book to meet hers. " 'Lost yourself in its potent scent. Its hues as red as blood…sweet as a lover's lips.' "
Deniel's voice changed as he read from this book. Softer, breathier, headier, he spoke with a gentle rhythm, pausing between each phrase, leaving time to ponder each word before moving on.
" 'But they don't speak of the thorns that you will find…as you embrace that lovely rose. The way that it will cut you…as you try to hold it close.
" 'It's easier not to love the rose- at least, that's what I've found. Just look up at the sky…and you'll find beauty in the clouds. Sink your toes into the sand…the waves will wash your feet.
'And when the moon longs to crests between the stars…you'll realize the sun's bed of clouds is more beautiful than any rose.' "
He shut the book. "A bit on the sappy side… But then, that's poetry for you. If it's not talking about love or nature, then it's talking about lost love- and nature." He sighed. "I have a bit more of my mother in me than I like to admit." A pause. "What I mean is, she loves this sort of thing. And…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Does that make any sort of sense? Help me…"
Why is he so embarrassed? Varasach tilted her head, as he had done earlier. He's the one who wanted to read in the first place. "Yes," she said. "It's a pretty poetry."
"Poem," Deniel corrected. "Po- Yeah, it's a poem."
"Mmm." Varasach nodded thoughtfully. "It's nice."
A long, uncomfortable silence in which Varasach listened to the wind roar outside- the blizzard was still raging at full strength, remarkably enough- and Deniel returned to his book, glaring at it so hard Varasach was certain he was not really reading it, but rather searching for an excuse not to look her in the eyes.
"It…really was nice," Varasach said at last. "I didn't understand some of it…but it was nice."
Deniel glanced at the wall before meeting her eyes again. He smiled. "Thank you."
"A'ah," Varasach replied. At Deniel's confused expression she caught herself. "You- You're welcome." She rubbed her hot face with her palm. She really needed to pay more attention to her words…
"Well." Deniel cleared his throat. "If you liked it then maybe- if you want- I could read more? To keep you from getting bored."
"I would like that," Varasach said. "There is-"
There was an urgent knock at the door. Varasach and Deniel both jumped- Deniel shoved his book back into a pocket and straightened his uniform before opening the door.
"My lady!" Senai rushed in, face red and short of breath. "I- I apologize for coming in at this early hour. But there's some news you need to hear."
Varasach straightened. Pigeon leapt from the bed and escaped through the open door. "What is it?" she asked.
Senai pointed over her shoulder. "High General Derek," she said. "He finally brought in the stablehand."
Varasach's heart thumped in her chest. "Zak?" she asked breathlessly. "He's been found?"
"Yes, my lady. He's being held in the prison below the keep."
Varasach and Deniel exchanged a look. Deniel's jaw flexed, and he rested a hand on his sword.
"He's going to be tried, I assume?" Deniel asked.
Senai nodded. "Derek will go down there with the Lord Rector and the King in an hour." She approached Varasach's bed. "They want you to attend the trial with them, Princess."
"Why must I do this?" Varasach asked in a shaky whisper. She shivered: her long-sleeved dress did little to dispel the chill that seemed to whisper over every surface of this dark dungeon. "I don't want to see Zak again."
"I know," Senai whispered back sympathetically, and touched Varasach's curls with one hand as she pushed the wheelchair along the smooth stone floor. "We don't have a choice, though. It's the law. The High General needs witnesses to confirm that we have the right man in custody before he can be executed. All you need to do is confirm that you recognize this man as the one who kidnapped you and gave you to the slave trader. Then we can go."
"It'll be okay."
Varasach looked to her left, where Deniel walked beside her chair, eyes grimmer than she had ever seen. He offered her a small, firm nod. "He can't hurt you."
"I know." Varasach looked down at her burned hands. She knew that Zak wouldn't be able to harm her here. Not physically, at least, with so many people protecting her.
She could see Zak's face in her mind's eye. Dark, smiling eyes, black hair. His gentle, quiet voice as he told her how much happier Adiva seemed to be since her arrival at the Keep. His fond words regarding Prince Lloyd.
His grimace as Varasach realized she had been betrayed.
"I just…don't want to even look at him." She turned in her chair to look at Senai. "I didn't need to be here for Alerik's trial, right? Why me, now?"
"I'm not sure" Senai admitted.
"It's right down there." Deniel gestured to one of the many halls branching from the circular prison chamber. They passed a set of Guards standing at the entrance to the hall. Lanterns hung from the walls at intervals, casting an undulating orange light across every surface.
"I've never understood why the King needs such a large a prison beneath the keep," Senai whispered to Deniel. "We don't keep prisoners. They are put on trial, and they pay their dues. Nobody stays in prison…" She paused, glancing into each of the empty cells as they passed. "…Right?"
Deniel looked straight ahead, forehead creased and eyes shadowed. "I don't know."
"Hmm." Senai watched him for a few steps, brows pinched with thought. "I thought surely you would know, since-"
"I don't know." There was a hardness in his voice that Varasach had never heard before. "We're here."
Ahead, on their right, two more Guards stood on either side of a large, solid wooden door. These Guards bowed as Varasach and her escorts drew close. Then, one lifted the door's latch and pushed it open.
"Thank you," Varasach said as Senai rolled her chair through the doorway.
"You're welcome," came the Guard's quiet reply.
Wait-
Varasach whirled in her seat. The Guard, bearded face cast in shadows, looked back at her with warm, glinting yellow eyes.
And then he winked, and shut the door.
"Good morning, Princess," Lord Rector Waren said. Varasach turned back to face the cell with a start.
"Go-good morning," Varasach replied, and glanced back at the door again. Could that have been…
No, it couldn't be Kyle. How would he have become a Guard?
"Vara?" Garmadon asked. "Are you all right?"
Varasach settled back into her chair. Breathing deeply, she met Garmadon's gaze and nodded. If it was Kyle, then she could not let the King know that anything was wrong, or he might get in trouble.
"Well, well, well…" a sneering voice said. Varasach gripped the arms of her chair, her attention roughly jerked from her train of thought.
Hair bedraggled, dried blood on his face and the collar of his shirt, Zak leered at Varasach from across the square, stone room.
"It's the bastard Princess. Lucky you, huh? Glad'ja got home to your daddy safely. How're your-"
"Shut up, Zakari," High General Derek said. Dressed in his decorated uniform, sword at his hip, he sat reclined in a plain wooden chair at Garmadon's left hand. At the King's right, the Lord Rector smiled at Varasach. He gestured to a space beside a chair which was occupied by a young woman Varasach did not know. Senai maneuvered Varasach into that spot.
This woman was only a few winters older Varasach, with long, blonde hair in a braid that reached below her shoulders. Hard, distant brown eyes stared directly through the wall behind Zak's head. She didn't seem to notice that the Princess was beside her.
"Thank you, Deniel," Garmadon said. "You may wait outside."
"Why?" Derek straightened in his chair. "There's nothing secret about this trial. And he is part of her escort. Let him stay."
Garmadon's jaw flexed. "Fine," he relented, and waved his hand brusquely. "Let's get this over with."
Deniel sighed quietly, meeting Varasach's eyes with a rueful smile, and took up his position beside her.
Derek cleared his throat and stood, drawing everyone's attention. He cut an imposing figure in his uniform, comprised, as was the tradition of all Guards, of a long, unbuttoned black coat that reached nearly to the floor, under which was a white shirt and green vest. Piercing blue eyes, hair cut and tied back in the customary style of all High Generals. He strode across the room, boots hitting hard against the floor, and stood before Zak.
"Zakari Tui, you have been arrested on charges of domestic violence, kidnapping, and human trafficking. Are these charges correct?"
"I told you everything already," Zak sighed, rolling his eyes upward to meet the High General's. "Yeah, I'm guilty."
"There are holes in your story," Garmadon said. "You haven't explained how you managed to become an employee on my estate, nor why you accepted no pay when you took the Princess to the slave trader whom you knew as Alerik."
Zak's entire frame shook from his shrill laugh. He slid his bloodshot gaze from the King to Varasach, and then to the Lord Rector.
"He wants to know, Haeva dear!" he said, and grinned at the blonde woman beside Varasach. "He wants to know alllll my secrets. Should I tell him? Hmm?"
The woman, Haeva, looked away, lower lip trembling. As she turned, Varasach caught sight of something shiny on her left ear.
A wedding earring.
Varasach looked at Zak's ear. He didn't wear an earring. Were they married, or…?
"Ohhh, come on, Haeva darling. Don't be like that." Zak pouted. "I'm going to die soon, you know. This is the last time I'll see you. Let's part on good terms. C'mere and give me a-"
"That's enough," the Lord Rector snapped. "Can we speed this up, Derek? The women don't need to be in here any longer than necessary."
"Yes, Lord Rector," the High General said, and turned his attention back to Zak, who was cackling and pulling against the bonds tying him to the chair. Shaking,Haeva closed her eyes. Varasach set her hand on the woman's leg. The woman jerked in her seat and looked at Varasach, seeming confused by her sympathetic expression.
"Haeva Tui, do you confirm that every charge brought against this man is true?" Derek asked.
Haeva hesitated, eyes darting between Zak and the High General. Her lips moved soundlessly, as though she were speaking to herself.
"Why are you hesitating, darling?" Now calm- on the outside, at least- Zak spoke gently to the woman. "Just tell them the truth. It's all right."
Haeva stood sharply, breast shuddering with shaking breaths. Her eyes somehow remained dry, though, and she stared with remarkable poise at the chained man.
"He is guilty," she said, "of every charge you've brought against him. And…and I never want to see him again."
Zak stilled. A shadow of fear crossed his bruised face.
"Thank you, Mrs. Tui," Derek said. "Princess Vara Garmadon, do you confirm that every charge brought agains this man is true?"
In the moments of quiet that followed, Varasach heard the distant plink of dripping water. She knew all eyes were on her and, for once, she felt no embarrassment at that. She watched Zak for a while, taking in the paleness of his skin, the tremble in his bones, the twitch of his grimy hands.
This man had seemed so…gentle, so normal, when she'd first met him in the stable over a week ago. And, even when he'd shown his true intentions at Alerik's shack, he'd seemed at least a little sympathetic.
Now, tied up in this chair, he'd shown them all the insanity that lay beneath his skin. He was a disturbed, wicked man who delighted in the distress of others. And yet…
Varasach was not aware of rising to her feet. But, next thing she knew, she was walking toward Zak. Derek stepped out of her way, clearly too surprised to stop her, and Varasach stopped before the trembling prisoner who had hurt her and Haeva.
Varasach's legs shook with both fear, weakness, and pain from her wounds as she sank to one knee, coming face-to-face with Zak. He stared, silent, fearful, clearly expecting some sort of attack: he tensed when Varasach reached for his hand.
Before her was a blackened heart. An angry, depraved mind.
A lost soul, drifting in the darkness without a beacon to guide it home.
"I forgive you," Varasach said, and gently squeezed his cold hand, chained to the chair.
In the moments that followed, Zak did not so much as breathe. His eyes- such a deep, beautiful shade of blue- stared at her, unblinking.
Then, without warning, his face contorted. He brought his face as close to her as his bindings would allow and screamed.
"Damn you!" he howled, spittle flying in her face. She fell backwards with surprise, and Derek caught her. "Damn you, bitch! Everything was fine until you showed up! When that- that damned-"
"Get them out of here, Deniel," the Lord Rector ordered, rising to his feet. "We're done. He's confessed, and we have our witnesses."
"Yes, Lord Rector." Deniel came up beside Derek and together they guided Varasach, stunned, speechless, back to her chair. Almost before she was seated Senai was pushing her toward the door. Everyone else followed suite.
"You ruined it!" Zak roared, red in the face, veins flexing in his neck. "You bastards have no idea, you ruined it! You ruined us! What will Haeva do without me? You-"
The door slammed shut, muffling his curses. Varasach's heart beat fast in her chest; she breathed heavily, trying to compose herself. What was wrong with Zak?
What had happened to his heart and mind to make him so full of hate?
To the side, Haeva choked on a sob.
"Thank you for coming," Garmadon said. "I'm very sorry that it had to end like this. Haeva, do you have a safe place to go?"
Haeva nodded. "I h-have relatives on the North-Middle border."
"Good. Please, follow my Guards upstairs. They will arrange transportation for you." He took one of her shaking hands in both of his. "Know that if you ever run into trouble like this again, our doors are open."
Haeva's tears, pent up for so long, finally fell with unrelenting force.
"Th-thank you," she cried, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. "Thank you, my K-King."
"Of course." Garmadon's voice was so soft, so tender. Varasach's alarm and pity regarding Zak paled in the blazing light of her sudden rage.
How false can one man be? she scowled at Garmadon. After what you did to my mother, what right do you have to act like a savior to this hurt woman?
This man is just as much a criminal as Zak. No, he is worse than Zak! How do they not see it?
Haeva hesitantly took her hand from the King's grip and bowed deeply. Garmadon nodded back, and Haeva turned to the Guards, who moved from their position guarding the cell door to escort her out of the dungeon. Remembering how one of them had winked earlier, Varasach squinted in the dim light to make out the Guards' features. But they had their backs to her, already walking away. If one of them truly was Kyle, then he did not want Vara to recognize him in front of the King.
"Stay here, High General, until the sentinels return," the Lord Rector ordered. "But do not engage Zakari again. We have learned all that we can from him. Don't waste your time; you'll only rile him up further."
"Yes, Lord Rector."
"Thank you."
"P-please," Varasach said, drawing their attention. She swallowed and continued. "Lord Rector, is there any way to help Zak?"
"I'm afraid not," the Lord Rector sighed. "I suspect the boy is insane. There's no way to cure a broken mind. And besides, with the crimes he's committed, he is sentenced to death no matter what. There is nothing we can do but give him a wide berth until the storm ends so we can complete the trial and execute him in the Square."
"Do I have to go to the execution?"
"No," Garmadon interjected. "Not unless you want to." He gestured for Senai to step aside, and he took the handles of Varasach's chair.
"Don't," Varasach snapped. "I want Senai to do it."
Garmadon released the chair as though the grips had turned to ice.
Deniel raised an eyebrow at Varasach. She looked away, huffing.
They could think her disrespectful for treating the King in such a way. But it wasn't her fault if they couldn't see past his facade. It wasn't her fault if she was the only one who could see just how wretched this man was on the inside.
"Excuse me," Garmadon said. He bowed slightly to both the Lord Rector and Varasach. "I'm going to my study. Derek, please don't forget that Regent Santi is supposed to arrive later tonight. We need to start planning the South's assault in earnest when he comes."
"Yes, my King."
Garmadon retreated down the hall at a brisk pace. Senai hesitantly grabbed Varasach's chair and followed him. Varasach did not look back, but her ears told her that Derek and the Lord Rector were not far behind.
"Ah, one moment, Princess," the Lord Rector said once they reached the main chamber of the dungeon. Senai stopped. Garmadon climbed the stairs out of the dungeon, and was quickly out of sight.
"Yes?" Varasach asked. She braced herself for an earful about her words to the King.
The Lord Rector came around the chair so he faced Varasach. "Have you managed to open your mother's locket?"
Varasach blinked in surprise. She brought her hand to her breast, where the locket hung beneath her bodice. "No," she replied. "I have not."
"Mmm, pity." The Lord Rector shrugged. "That's all right." He bowed to her. "Have a good morning, Princess. I'll visit you later this afternoon, perhaps…?"
"Yes," Varasach said.
"Excellent." The Lord Rector passed between two Guards standing at the dungeon's exit and climbed the stairs, quickly leaving Varasach's sight.
In the distance, Zak screeched what Varasach could only assume was another string of obscenities. Gooseflesh rippled over Varasach's arms and neck. "Can we get out of here?" she asked, in a smaller voice than intended.
"Yeah," Deniel said, glancing over his shoulder with a disgusted frown. "Let's go."
Zakari's crazed antics continued until well after midday.
The Nindroid, disguised as a Guard, stood alone outside the man's cell, waiting. Patiently, quietly, professionally. Analyzing the patterns of the other Guards who made their rounds through the dungeon, smiling grimly to himself whenever Zakari called out for someone to come in and talk to him. Haeva. The Princess. Other names that the Nindroid did not recognize, but filed away for future reference.
"Just listen to me, damn you!" Zakari's voice had been pushed beyond its limits; raw and coarse, he choked on a raspy cough. He hardly sounded human anymore. "Haeva needs me! She'll be lost without me! LISTEN, you Host-cursed, mother-"
The Nindroid closed his eyes, tuning out the rest of the vile curse.
The man's insane, he thought, sighing. There's something terribly wrong and broken in his mind.
That brokenness did not by any means excuse Zakari's behavior. The Nindroid did not allow himself to feel any pity. Not after what Zak had done to Haeva, Varasach, and others.
How odd it is, the Nindroid reflected, not for the first time, that Zakari went after the Princess for the slave trade. What could he gain from such a harebrained endeavor? Surely he knew that he would have gotten caught eventually…
There were too many questions that had no answers.
Therefore, here he stood, waiting, listening, flexing his fingers with a hard smirk on his face.
It's time, he decided, and unlocked the cell with the key he had slipped from the High General's pocket earlier that day. He pushed open the door and strode in, drawing a knife from its hidden sheath inside his uniform.
"What the hell-" Zakari began, but was cut off when the blade pressed against his throat- not too hard, lest he leave a mark for someone to find and question later.
"I didn't get to finish last night," the Nindroid whispered. "Do you remember me?"
Zakari swallowed, glancing from the knife to the Nindroid's cold eyes. "Y…you're the merc who got me arrested," he said hoarsely. "How the hell did you get here?"
"Trade secret, my friend. Now, I have some questions for you. Please behave; my patience with your lunacy is extremely thin."
"You can't kill me, merc. You'd blow your cover."
The Nindroid grinned, baring his teeth. "I don't care."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Zakari's face. He glanced at the closed door behind the Nindroid.
"That's better." The Nindroid readjusted his grip on the knife, letting each of his fingers open and close individually around the warm metal grip. Zakari's breathing trembled.
"Why did you take the Princess?" the Nindroid asked.
"I…" Zakari licked his upper lip, glancing to the side. "I don't know."
"Yes you do!" the Nindroid snarled, and Zakari jumped, rattling the chains binding his hands to the chair. "Don't lie to me, Zakari. Why didn't you accept pay from Alerik? I can't imagine you doing such a thing without good reason."
"I don't know," Zakari said again. "I swear, I…" He cowered under the Nindroid's stare. "Please, I swear I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." The Nindroid leaned in, so his face was only a hand's breadth from Zakari's. "You tell me now, or I break your wrist." He gestured to Zakari's left arm with a slight tilt of his head. "I can make it look like you did it to yourself. And who would believe you when you said otherwise, hmm?"
Sweat beaded on Zakari's temple. He clenched his fist, but said nothing.
The Nindroid sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You asked for it," he said, and took a short, flat plank of wood from another inner pocket of his uniform.
"Stop," Zakari whispered.
The Nindroid wrapped Zakari's forearm in a small, thick towel- this would prevent bruising the skin from bruising while he underwent this unpleasant task. Then he took a bit of rope from another pocket and tied Zakari's arm, up near the elbow, more securely to the chair, so he couldn't squirm. Finally, he positioned his plank underneath the towel, between the chair and Zakari's trembling arm.
"Damn it, don't-"
"Bones take a lot of force to break," the Nindroid interrupted in a calm, quiet voice, adjusting the plank. "They support your entire body, after all. With the right pressure, though, bones can flex, bend, for a long while before they break. Here, can you scooch just a bit…" He poked Zakari's ribs with the knife, causing him to shy away. "Perfect. Now, hold still…"
He gripped Zakari's wrist, twisting it ever so slightly in the wrong direction, and applied counterforce with the plank. Zakari inhaled sharply through his teeth. Though he tried, he could not pull his bound arm away.
With some trouble, the Nindroid managed to keep his face stoic. However much this criminal deserved it, he hated that he had to hurt a human in this way. Wasn't there a better course of action?
Perhaps. But right now, he didn't have time for that. He needed answers.
"Aaah!" Zakari cried out, tears of pain in his eyes as the pressure on his wrist grew steadily harder. The Nindroid wasn't afraid of being heard, though: with the way Zakari had carried on all morning and afternoon, silence would be far more suspicious than this.
"Aaaah, I was paid, dammit!" Zakari hissed through clenched teeth, and the Nindroid eased his force slightly, relieved. "I was paid. This…this man came to the stables last week, only a few minutes before the Princess came to me. I dunno how he knew about me, but…but he gave me sixty gold, told me to kidnap the Princess and kill 'er in the woods on the Southern border."
"The South?" the Nindroid repeated, frowning.
"Yeah. Wanted to get the ball rolling on this whole war thing, I guess. He also promised that if I got caught, he'd get me out before my execution. I don't know if he will, now, since I didn't actually kill her." Zakari glanced at his arm, a true, lucid fear in his eyes. "Please, let me go."
"Who paid you?" the Nindroid asked.
"I don't know." Zakari rolled his head back, breathing heavily. "I mean it this time. I swear I don't know who he is. He wore an old cloak, met me in the dark outside the stables. Disguised his voice too, I think."
The Nindroid analyzed Zakari carefully for any sign of deceit. Telltale twitches, shifting eyes, or changes in his breath. There was none. The Nindroid only saw fear.
Fear, he thought bitterly. Dear God, why must I make them fear me? He recalled the expression on the High General's face at Alerik's burning shack a week prior, when he'd tried to stop the High General from taking Varasach away. Complete and utter terror.
Of course, if I were him, I might have been scared of me, too. The Nindroid glanced at his hand, now, like the rest of his body, fully repaired, thanks to Cyrus. It was a miracle that his Bird, Jema, had been able to fly all the way to the North to get help in time to save him. How many times will I fall apart before the world is finally put back together?
"All right," the Nindroid murmured, and let go of Zakari's wrist. The man slumped with relief as the plank was removed, and towel and rope were untied from his forearm. He stared at his hand, wiggled his fingers with a clear and newfound appreciation.
"So…we're done?" Zakari asked.
"Yes," the Nindroid gritted, and went to the door. "If you tell a soul about this- or I find you're still withholding information- I'll come back and pick up where we left off."
Zakari stiffened. "Sure," he said, looking down at his hand again. "Sure."
The Nindroid opened the door, but paused, turning back. "Why didn't you kill the Princess?" he asked.
Zakari's melancholy blue eyes met his. "I'm not like you," he said. "I do…things I shouldn't, but I'm no killer. I thought I could be, but when I started talking to her, she was so oblivious…so, so…trusting. Would've been like dragging pig into the woods to slaughter it, and not using the meat. I couldn't do it."
Not like me. The phrase bit into the Nindroid's heart, filling him with remorse.
Heh. I'm not like me, either. Not since Overlord took me apart.
"Thank you," the Nindroid said quietly, and stepped through the door. "You did the right thing."
Did he, really, though? Was selling Vara into slavery the best Zak could do?
And what of me? Am I doing the right thing, anymore? What's the best that I can do? Certainly not this.
"Oh- I uh, forgot something," Zakari said suddenly, and the Nindroid, again, turned back. "The man who gave me the money, I think I might've saw black and green clothes under his cloak."
Black and green… The Nindroid glanced down at his own stolen uniform. "Are you certain?"
"I can't be positive," Zakari said. "But yeah. I think the guy who paid me is a Guard."
Does anyone have strong feelings about the anticlimactic way in which I've re-introduced this promised "back from the dead" character? Heh. Get in line: I have some strong words for that twerp myself. Sigh. Why are you this way, silly Nindroid chiold? *Pokes his fancy new beard with a pencil*
Hmmmm... A Guard wants Vara dead, eh? Let's hope our undead Nindroid frand can figure this out before anything bad happens to her!
Thanks for your patience with me, y'all! I want to, I wish to, I shall TRY to find time to write more often and keep this going consistently until the very end. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. Have a great rest of your week, and God bless!