Chapter 6:

Tino knew what he had to do: incapacitate the man in the stables and then escape to find Ilta. He struck quickly, hitting the solar plexus and shoving the air out of the man's lungs. The man stumbled back, gasping. Tino moved closer, hitting him again in the same place. Then, grabbing the man's shoulders, he rammed his knee once again into the solar plexus. He struck the back of his head, knocking the man to the ground, too stunned to move. It took only seconds. From what Berwald had told him, they left Ilta in the snow, where the fight with the bandits had taken place. As Tino rushed over to saddle a horse, a hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around. The man was back up again. Tino was shocked; he barely got his guard up in time before a fist collided with his face.

"You're quite the sturdy one." Tino said, licking his split lip.

The man had a hand pressed underneath his lungs, "I'm Swedish." He gasped and Tino chuckled.

"Name?" Tino asked.

"Ander Dahlstrom, Captain of the Oxenstierna Castle Guard." Ander said.

"Very good." Tino said and rushed the man. Instead of a punch like Ander was a supposedly expecting, Tino dropped to the ground and swept the Captain's legs out from underneath him. The man hit the hard stone floor with a thump and a strangled gasp. "But not good enough, I'm afraid." Tino said kindly, struggling to keep himself from falling into his mission mode. He was afraid of himself sometimes, worried how quickly he could tie up his heart and shrink it until he forgot what feelings were for a while. Tino surged back up, grabbing a saddle and slinging it over a horse. He had just finished, tightening the straps when an alarm call went up. With Ander still unconscious on the ground, Tino could deduce that someone had found Berwald, also unconscious, in his study. He had to move faster then. The bridle was on in seconds and Tino barged out of the barn, heading straight towards the still-open gates. Doing the calculations in his head, he spurred on his horse faster, knowing he would only barely make it before the gates closed. The portcullis clanged down and Tino cursed; this was a Western European castle, not like the traditional Swedish designs. He had forgotten about the portcullis. Time for a change of plans then. If it was European style, then there was a moat surrounding the castle. Get to the top of the outer wall and jump into the water and escape. Simple enough. He pulled the horse's head up and slid out of the saddle in front of the entrance to the guard tower. He slid to the side, waiting for the door to open. When it did, he slid again, throwing his elbow back into the first soldier's face. Tino gasped with pain, his left arm going numb from the impact of hard metal. The solider collapsed though and Tino spun around the corner, kicking the next soldier in the chest and knocking the rest down like dominos. He spotted the stairs and dashed up two at a time, hearing shouts and clattering behind him. His left arm prickled with imaginary pins and needles and Tino knew it would be out for a bit longer. He hoped none of these goobers had swords, that wouldn't be fun even for him. He reached the top of the wall and took a second to admire it then turned toward the edge.
Tino froze in shock.
There wasn't a moat.
Good thing he checked before jumping, otherwise he'd be squashed like a bug. There was another moment of shock and immobilization, before Tino cursed again, slamming his left hand on the bricks and turning to run again.
Behind him was Ander and Berwald, with a troop of armed guards flanking them.
Tino spat out a curse in Italian.

"Cazzo!"
~~~

The dungeons weren't as comfortable as Berwald's rooms were, but Tino had spent time in worse. He actually had a mattress for one, and there weren't any rats or other vermin. It was actually habitable. Ander questioned him first, with 'why's and 'what for's and Tino answered with a cocky smile and a flippant answer. He sat on a chair, chained to it, and yet they wouldn't come inside the cell. Just as well, Tino managed to smash his chair and pull his chained together arms under his legs so they were in front of his body. He did this when Ander went up to fetch Berwald after the questioning failed. They found him picking at the locks around his wrists, with a small piece of metal that was folded and curved to work as a pick.

"Where did you get that?" Ander asked, confused and Tino raised his eyebrows, remaining silent. Keeping eye contact, he flicked his wrist and the manacles clattered to the ground, freeing him of their weight. He smirked at Ander's bewildered face and Berwald's mildly surprised one.

"Kasvoton?" Berwald asked and Tino frowned, still silent. "You were part of them, weren't you?" It was the most Tino had heard him speak, beside the confession he forced.

"Not anymore." Tino spat, "And I'm sure you know what that means. They'll come after me, and slaughter all of you in the process."
All Berwald said was: "You should get cleaned up." And left.

Ilta woke, dazed, and in pain.

"When you wake and you're in pain, you know you're not dead." Natalya's voice floated in the air, dancing about Ilta's ears and while the Finnish girl wanted to sleep again, she couldn't. There was shuffling in the background.

"It's a Russian proverb, you know? It's my favorite."

"Weren't you going to let me die, Natalya? I never took you for a merciful one." Itla muttered tiredly. She moved torub the sleep out of eyes when she felt resistance. Then she realized she was strapped down to a table. She wriggled, testing the bindings. The sharp sound of a knife sliding from its sheath stopped Ilta's fidgeting. The Finnish girl heaved a great, dramatic sigh.

"This is going to be bushels of fun, isn't it, Natalya?"

"For me, maybe." The Russian woman said, coming to stand in the scant light. The blade gleamed ominously.

Natalya tested the edge of the blade with her thumb. "For you, not so much."

Ilta sighed again. "Get on with it." She said, and Natalya drew the blade down Ilta's arm, ruby droplets appearing from the skin like magic.

"Where is Tino?" Natalya asked.
Ilta was silent, a bored look in her eyes. Natalya stared at her, recognizing the way her eyes dulled as she shut herself off from the world.

"No answer, hmm? Have it your way. I'm a patient woman." Natalya's knife dug deeper into Ilta's arm. While torturing a Kasvoton-trained person like Ilta would seem daunting to some, Natalya had confidence in her abilities.

After all, she was a Kasvoton too.