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He took a long deep breath, lifted his hand, allowing the pain to return. “No. Rowan.” He moved around to my left side, began another sigil, ignored my keening wail of a scream.
Kara…
“You are Rowan,” Rhyzkahl said, returning to stand before me. Once again he laid his hand on my cheek, once again gave me numb refuge from the pain.
I heard him. Heard the name. Heard the distant call.
Kara…
“I’m…K-Kara.”
He pulled his hand away, allowing the pain to flood in. I spasmed in the bindings, vision going red as my shoulders dislocated.
“You bring the pain upon yourself,” he told me as he brought the blade before me. “Speak your name—Rowan—and end it.”
Kara…Kara…Kara…
I moaned, unable to say either name.
Stepping back, he gestured, pulling my arms out to my sides, though keeping them twisted enough to maintain the searing agony in my shoulders. Another gesture pulled my legs apart until I was stretched in a vicious spread-eagle about a foot off the ground.
Once again he bound me in potency to keep me from twitching and marring his work. He set the blade on my upper back, slowly parting my flesh in the complex pattern.
Once again, he brought the pain.
I hung limp in the cruel position, twitching within the imprisoning sheath as he began a new sigil. A thousand times we’d been through this. Surely it had been that many. Yet other than the carving of my flesh and the ruin of my shoulders, I was undamaged. Each bout of agony was only that, yet all of that.
I couldn’t pass out. That way was closed off to me. But another way beckoned, shimmered with a promise of ease, of a different sort of oblivion. All I had to do was relax my grip on myself. Let go, and the pain would fade away. I could drift there and be nothing.
Kara…KARA!
I moaned. No. I couldn’t let go. I’d never find my way back. “…here,” I whispered.
Rhyzkahl lifted his head. “Mzatal.” He bared his teeth and growled a very nonhuman sound. “Dahn!” He moved swiftly to grip my hair, hauled my face close to his. “What have you done?” He snarled, face contorted in fury.
“…here,” I gasped, “…Kara.”
He released my hair with a shove, then backhanded me. “He will not know you. Your name is ROWAN.”
I shuddered in pain, uncertain which name was right. He moved to my back, drew a breath, and began a new sigil.
Kara…Kara…Kara…
Twitching, I whimpered, “…here.”
Rhyzkahl carved the sigil into my lower back, taking far longer with this one than any other. At last he finished, moved back around to look into my face. “After this, you will know your name,” he said, voice hard again and full of fury. “And he will no longer touch you.”
The pain was about to come again. I saw it in his eyes, in his snarl. This one would be worse than all the others.
Rhyzkahl lowered his head, lifted the blade before him. The red fire writhed over his arm and torso as he called down the agony, bringing pain upon pain, making me feel as if my very bones were on fire. Lost in the agony, I couldn’t even scream.
The relentless torment abruptly flickered and died, and I dimly heard a cry of pain that wasn’t my own. I struggled to focus on Rhyzkahl. His breath hissed through his teeth as he looked down at the knife in his hand. Brilliant blue fire surrounded his fist, and the azure gem in the pommel glowed as though lit by an internal sun. He shook his hand as though to release the blade but the cruel spikes on the hilt still curled around his fingers, locking it in his grip.
I gasped for breath in the brief surcease. He raised the blade before him again, igniting the pattern around us both and in every nerve in my body. “Rowan…Rowan!” he growled.
There was no way to think beyond the pain. No way to hold onto myself. No oblivion to escape to.
Kara!
