Descent

  Ria cleared her throat. ‘If it’s at all helpful, in any way ... I get the feeling he’s good at his job.’

  ‘No it isn’t helpful! I don’t care about that!’ Anna yelled. ‘I just want him to come back!’ She stopped abruptly, taking a breath. ‘Will he come back?’ she asked, sounding almost calm.

  The hesitation would have been enough, if Anna hadn’t already known the answer.

  ‘He didn’t seem to think he would,’ Ria whispered. Looking at her face, it was as though she could see Anna’s heart crumble before her very eyes. The six had been inseparable before they came here, Ria knew.

  Anna ran outside, her body shaking.

  Ria hesitated a moment, trying to understand her part in all of this. It was clear that the girl wasn’t going to make it very far without her help.

  Anna nearly collapsed as the cold air hit her tiny body. She knew she shouldn’t be out here on her own, weak as she was, but there was a driving force inside her now.

  She had never known it was possible for love to disappear so quickly. She’d fallen for Accolon all that time ago, when she’d been just a stupid child. When he’d been a man worth loving. She’d watched the love between Satine and Accolon, and she’d wanted to somehow experience the same thing, she’d wanted him to love her in that way. Or maybe just for someone to love her that way.

  Well, not anymore. Friendship could be stronger by far. She loved her friends more than she loved anyone.

  She shivered and shrugged off a wave of nausea. Brushing her hair out of her eyes and clenching her teeth against the pain in her chest, she ran to Locktar’s side. Before she could get far, a voice sounded behind her. Anna turned to see Ria following her.

  ‘What?’ Anna yelled, only thinking of how little time they had.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To find him, of course!’

  Ria took in Anna’s stance, her stooped, thin body, her pale face and blue lips. Anna knew she looked a mess, but the last person to ask her if she was okay had been Luca. Even if there was no other reason, that alone meant she must try.

  ‘You’re sick aren’t you?’ Ria asked finally.

  And Anna was just too tired to deny it any more. She nodded tightly.

  ‘Don’t try to convince me not to go—I need to stop him.’

  ‘I was just going to suggest you take this cloak, if we’re going to be flying,’ Ria said softly.

  Without another word, Anna climbed onto the scaly beast, then leant down to pull Ria on behind her.

  ‘How long have you been sick?’ Ria asked.

  ‘Over three years.’

  ‘And it has worsened recently? There was a silence. ‘Are you very cold?’

  ‘I can’t feel my feet or hands,’ Anna said eventually.

  Ria drew the cloak she was wearing so that it encircled Anna as well as herself, and held onto her as tightly as she could.

  ‘How are we going to get in?’

  ‘I’ll get us in,’ Ria said firmly.

  They arrived at the Karangul fortress, the dragon circling in the air twice before finding a safe place for them to land. Ria climbed down, relief washing through her at being away from the beast. She watched as Anna stroked its head and whispered lovingly into its ear.

  Ria led her through the open gate, guiding her by the elbow. They had to stop once as a wave of dizziness came over Anna, but it passed, and she struggled on. She waited, exhausted, as Ria spoke tersely to the guards.

  ‘I need to speak with Captain Adon Bayard. Now.’

  ‘No one is to enter. Not after last night.’

  ‘What happened last night?’

  ‘Why in the name of Odin should I tell you?’ the man sneered. ‘Who are you, anyway?’

  ‘My name is Ria del Torr. I have been invited here, and I am a personal friend of Adon’s. Let me in.’

  ‘Not without the commander’s approval.’

  ‘Then go and ask him!’ Ria yelled.

  ‘I don’t take orders from girls,’ he replied, looking her up and down. Ria felt distinctly self-conscious—but she had absolutely no patience for insolent fools.

  Before she could do anything irrational, Bayard appeared behind the guard. She noticed straight away how heavily his arm and hand were bandaged, and how deathly pale he looked.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking at the guards. When he spotted Ria outside, obscured by the sunlight behind her, his face grew more apprehensive.

  ‘Stand down, she is a guest,’ he ordered, and the guards stood aside quickly.

  ‘You are here for Luca?’ he asked bluntly. Ria nodded and his frown deepened. ‘Then I fear you are too late.’

  After arriving home, Bayard had made up a few quick lies about the raid being successful in order to buy himself some time to work out what he was going to do. The deceit made him uneasy, but he could do nothing else.

  The army captain was in bed when he heard running footsteps and an urgent knock at his door.

  ‘An intruder!’ the young soldier said as he burst into his room. ‘An intruder in the fortress!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘He’s already been captured and taken to the interrogation room.’

  Bayard raced from the room, pulling on a pair of trousers as he went. He didn’t have much time—he knew what happened to people in that room, and if he ever wanted to find out the intruder’s intentions, he would have to get to him before Vezzet did.

  Because deep underground, Vezzet had created a machine. An evil machine, which, when used, no amount of bravery or determination could withstand.

  Bayard ran through the dripping, dank, almost black stone passageways and came to the steel door at the end of a narrow walkway. It was barred heavily on both sides, with several padlocks and a steel plank. There were two guards at the door, armed with spears.

  ‘Open the door,’ Bayard said quickly, but the guards only moved to block him from the entrance. He could hear, very faintly, the sound of screams.

  ‘I’m sorry, Captain, but our orders are that no one is to enter,’ the larger of the guards said apologetically, fidgeting nervously with his spear.

  ‘You know he didn’t mean me—now let me in!’ Bayard snarled.

  ‘Well ... actually ... he specifically said you.’

  Bayard frowned and ran a hand through his hair. It was cold down here, in the underbelly of the world, and he had not had time to don a shirt.

  ‘Who is in there?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Captain. We don’t know. Lord Vezzet didn’t say anything about who he was. The man was putting up a fight. He needed four guards to hold him. I don’t know why you weren’t called to help.’

  ‘Describe the man to me.’

  ‘Well...’ the bigger man started, ‘he was tall ... dark hair, fair skin ... nothing different about him.’

  ‘Yeah there was,’ the smaller man cut in softly. ‘He was scary lookin’. It was his eyes. Had the look o’ death about them. And he was just a child. A boy.’

  Bayard frowned. The screams were growing louder and more anguished. ‘Look, I need to get in. If you don’t give me the key, I’m going to go through you to get it.’

  The guards looked frightened, but neither moved.

  Bayard stared at them. He was very still as he said, ‘Would you like to end up with the man in that room? I have the power to make it happen.’

  The bigger guard gulped and dropped his spear. The smaller man clenched his teeth and slowly handed Bayard the set of keys. He shook his head and murmured, ‘It’s not outta fear, Captain. It’s outta respect that I’ll step aside. But you know we’ll be punished for this.’

  Bayard looked him in the eye. ‘Not if I am alive to stop it, I swear to you.’

  Inside, the shrieks resounded in his ears as he ran down a steep set of steps. He kept running until he came to the final door, a door that was not guarded. The smells and sounds were enough guard for most.

  Inside, a body lay on a slab, with two men sta
nding over it. One held the instruments of the machine, the other looked on with obvious pleasure.

  They both whirled when Bayard entered, but the body on the slab did not move. Vezzet looked from Bayard to the crumpled figure and back again.

  ‘I should have known only two guards could not stop you from entering.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Bayard asked, horror in his voice.

  Vezzet grinned. ‘Only someone who thought to best me. Look for yourself.’

  Bayard walked forward slowly. The body was twisted and covered in blood, but the face, as usual, had been left untouched. And so it did not take long for the army Captain to realise that this almost dead form was that of the Bright One, Luca, who had fought to save them all, who’d fought to save a world of people that were not even his own. Bile rose in Bayard’s mouth.

  A quick temper, and a terrible one, they said about the Captain of Karangul, but not one of them could have estimated the ferocity of his fury now.

  A Bright One. He leant over Luca and touched him gently on the forehead. Luca opened his eyes, and what Bayard saw in them was death, just as the guard had said. There was nothing in those eyes that resembled humanity, nor understanding.

  Bayard turned slowly to Vezzet. In a voice that was barely audible, he said, ‘You cannot do that to him. Not to him.’

  ‘He tried to kill me! Is that not evil?’ the blond-haired man asked. He was a master of deceit, Bayard remembered.

  ‘I don’t know anymore. Let him go,’ Bayard said.

  ‘Of course I will not! He tried to kill me. He deserves punishment.’

  ‘He is a Bright One!’

  ‘He broke the law. I deserve revenge.’

  ‘This is his revenge. Or have you forgotten what you did to them all so long ago?’ Bayard replied through clenched teeth.

  ‘I told you I made a mistake. I’ve changed. I’m a good man now,’ Vezzet said, staring into Bayard’s eyes.

  ‘Despite the people you sold into slavery?’

  Vezzet frowned and looked at his Captain closely. ‘It was the only way to make money, Bayard. For our cause,’ he said calmly, not bothering to deny it.

  ‘And what is our cause? Tell me, for I am beginning to get the feeling that you and I see it very differently.’

  ‘To restore Cynis Witron to its glory. Maybe if the prince had still been alive things might have been different, but we all know what happened to Fern.’

  ‘You certainly do—you were responsible!’ Bayard growled.

  ‘The boy was a fool, and deserved death,’ Vezzet replied casually.

  Bayard stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘He was a hero,’ the Captain said faintly. ‘A legend. He fought the ultimate battle for good, and you call him a fool?’

  Vezzet shook his head. ‘This is getting out of hand. The death of the prince is not of concern here.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Bayard agreed. ‘Consider me no longer under your employment. I’m leaving, and I’m taking Luca with me.’ He leant down to gather the broken body in his arms.

  ‘Oh no, Adon,’ Vezzet laughed softly. ‘Have you forgotten the little agreement we made?’

  Bayard froze. ‘I agreed to work for you only because you swore you had changed. To repair what my father did.’

  Vezzet nodded. ‘A noble gesture. But to repair what your father did would take a long time, and a great deal of commitment. I was very scarred, Bayard. I need help to stay on the right path. I need help in taking control of Cynis Witron and the rest of Paragor.’

  ‘What?’ Bayard asked slowly. ‘You never said anything about the rest of Paragor.’

  ‘I could make it better,’ Vezzet replied. ‘Leostrial wanted to. He failed, but I can do it.’

  ‘What?—Leostrial wanted to destroy Paragor!’

  ‘No, he wanted to improve it. And I will, with your help. You owe it to me, Adon.’

  Everything was falling down around him. Everything he had believed was crumbling at his feet, broken by the weight of his own stupidity.

  ‘This is not the debt I owe. You are evil, Vezzet, and I should have realised it earlier. They all told me, but I wouldn’t listen. I trusted you!’

  Vezzet sighed. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it? I can almost imagine what it must feel like to be betrayed. Such a shame, really—you’re too valuable to kill, but I can’t have you running off to Accolon, can I?’ Vezzet smiled. ‘You know, I’m glad your father slaughtered my family. It meant you were mine, and you have been the most wonderful tool a man could want. Riddled by guilt, you would have done anything for me!’

  Bayard was frozen where he stood.

  Vezzet’s next words were softer. ‘What a joke you are,’ he murmured, his clear blue eyes never leaving Bayard’s. ‘That’s all you’ve ever been to me. But if you’re going to be difficult, I will have to get rid of you after all.’

  ‘My father killed every member of your family, and you don’t care?’ Bayard said faintly.

  ‘Quite the contrary. It put you at my disposal.’

  ‘I should have known you were this perverse. I’ve tried to repay you for the terrible thing my father did. But you didn’t even care. You’re just insane. What have you done to him?’ Bayard’s head swam as he gestured to Luca. Every time he glanced at the boy on the table he could barely breathe.

  ‘What I usually do. Well, I may have been a little less merciful on this one. But only because he came closer than anyone else has,’ Vezzet shrugged.

  ‘How did you stop him?’

  ‘He killed the wrong man. My double.’

  ‘And what exactly have you done to him?’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘Because I intend to have him healed.’

  Vezzet grinned. ‘There will be no healing this one. I shattered him some time ago. His mind was already in a state of chaos. Mind you, he was a lot harder to crack than I would have imagined. My hardest yet.’

  ‘ How did you do it?’

  ‘Strangely enough, he didn’t bare his soul to me as they usually do,’ Vezzet went on thoughtfully, ignoring Bayard. ‘But then, assassins usually are strong-willed. Only way they can do what they do, I suppose.’ He looked at Bayard. ‘You know how I did it. You’ve seen it before.’

  ‘I want to hear it from your lips.’

  ‘All right, though what good it’ll do you I don’t know.’ Vezzet paused, and then smiled slowly. ‘I started by breaking each one of his fingers, for he was a musician, and I wanted him to know that he would never play again. He managed to endure when I cut him open. And he managed to endure when I burnt him with blue fire. So finally, I used my machine.’ Vezzet’s blue eyes clouded as he relived the experience. ‘He didn’t say a word the whole time,’ he whispered, lost in thought. ‘Not even when I used the highest setting. And you know what the most amazing thing is? He stayed conscious for it all. No one else has ever endured as he did. It was beautiful, really. Only when I stopped did he let himself lose consciousness.’

  The army captain swallowed and wished desperately that he had not asked. But someone had to bare witness to this crime. He knew that if, by some great miracle Luca ever came out of this, he would need someone to help him bare the weight of it.

  Bayard raised the knife he had been carrying. He turned to the executioner and, without a thought, slashed the man’s throat. Bright blood sprayed out, soaking him in the thick, steely liquid. The executioner gurgled and dropped to the ground, dead before he hit it.

  Vezzet froze. Bayard turned slowly to him. Usually the Captain could use his anger to control himself, causing a kind of calm to wash over him. It enabled him to focus. But this was different. This kind of anger was all-consuming. The rage was making his hands shake, causing his vision to blur.

  ‘That was not a good idea,’ Vezzet said softly, his hands raised.

  ‘You deserve a thousand deaths,’ Bayard said. ‘But I am only human, and can give you only one.’ Without another word, the Captain lunged. Vezzet dove out of the way,
towards the table where Luca lay. Bayard turned towards him once more, but in his haze of fury he didn’t anticipate the obvious. Vezzet kicked out with his boot, catching Bayard in the face. Everything went black, and he might yet have been fine if only he’d had a moment to recover. Vezzet kicked out twice more, even harder. One boot pounded into his ear, the other went straight into his temple and everything turned black once more.

  He woke with a pounding headache. Agony was coursing through his neck and skull. Slowly, he tried to move. He couldn’t. His arms were too heavy. No, something was weighing them down. Tying them down. There was a sound in his ears, magnified a thousand times because of his headache. A strange, clanging kind of sound. Tentatively he opened his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear, and then another for him to figure out what was happening.

  Bayard was tied to the stone slab next to Luca. Vezzet was standing over him, sharpening a large, serrated saw—the sound that was sending pain into his throbbing head.

  ‘Time to wake up,’ Vezzet said softly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Bayard grunted, his voice coming out as a kind of muffled cough.

  ‘I’m teaching you a lesson,’ Vezzet said cheerfully. ‘I’ve always wanted to try this for myself. It seems like the perfect justice for my own misfortune.’

  That was when Bayard saw Vezzet’s wooden hand and his stomach flipped over.

  ‘Get away from me, you scum!’

  ‘Now, now, there’s no need for hostility. All I want is one little hand.’

  Bayard started to pull against the bindings, but the rope was thick; it burned against his wrists and his shoulders started to ache with the effort. A great roar of terror and fury left his mouth as his back arched in pain. Vezzet stood calmly. He moved forward and pinned Bayard’s wrist in place with his wooden hand, holding the enormous saw aloft with his good one.

  ‘No!’ Bayard screamed. Luca hadn’t moved at all, just moaned slightly where he lay.

  ‘Hold still, or this is going to be a lot worse,’ Vezzet muttered.

  Bayard felt a wave of nausea pass over him, and he decided, then and there, that he was not going to let this happen. He was the best god-damned fighter since Prince Fern himself, and he was not going to let some weak, rat of a man take one of his hands! Turning his head away, his eyes scanned the room quickly, coming to rest on the machine. It was on a table close by him, having only just been used on Luca. There was a wildness about that machine—even Vezzet, who had created it in his mad brilliance, didn’t quite know how it worked. Bayard let his foot drop off the side of the table. Thankfully his ankles hadn’t been tied—a hasty mistake. As quickly as he could without attracting attention, he reached his foot out and hooked it around the leg of the small table. Then, careful not to make a sound, he began to drag the table towards him. It was almost within reach of his hand when he felt the saw connect with his wrist.