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There wasn’t a guard in sight as I was yanked through the castle by my chains. I peered through my blood crusted lashes, trying to get an idea of where I was, but with my head down it was impossible to mentally map these foreign halls. I did my best to control my screams, but every step I took threatened to be the one to break me, to make me beg the men for a death I knew they wouldn’t grant me.
Vorkalth led the group of soldiers, walking with conviction through the corridors like he knew them well. We came to a stop at a wooden door I didn’t recognize. I could see light shining around the edges of the door — sunlight. We were facing an exterior wall. A possible way out, if I could find a way to get from the castle down the winding road to the city below. There was noise coming from the other side, so muffled by the thick wooden doors that I couldn’t decipher exactly what it was.
The doors swung open from the outside, two men standing at attention as their Commander walked through. The sunlight was blinding compared to the dimness of the torches that lined the halls, and at first all I saw was white. The men yanked on the chains, pulling me forward. I grunted at the movement, willing my eyes to adjust to the light.
And then I wished they hadn’t. I wished I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.
A small stone courtyard was lined with an intricate wrought iron fence, the east and south sides of the fence acting as railings for the hundred foot drop from the castle to the city below. Statues of Rhedros and Katia stared at each other from their respective pedestals, a look of angry longing carved into each of their faces. Katia’s crown was gilded in gold and rose high above the courtyard. The diadem still sat on my head, and I wondered how long it’d be before one of the men took it.
On every surface, people were chained, arms at their sides or behind their backs, feet shackled. There had to be at least sixty people in the courtyard, maybe more, most writhing against their chains in various states of moaning and screaming and sobbing. Some sat despondent, heads hanging. Bloody boot prints zigzagged across the stone, tracked by a dozen rebel soldiers prowling the chaos with a variety of weapons. In the furthest corner of the courtyard where the railings met in a point was apileof bodies, some still oozing blood from their necks and heads and innards.
The noises that rose from those chained in place were not cries of sorrow for a lost loved one. They weren’t screams of pain. They were the same noises that Roalin and Balthazar had been making before they tore each other to shreds. The same ones I would need to try to imitate.
Every single person here was forced to take the pipe.
Every single person here was now under the control of Kauvras, currently at the mercy of his lackeys. My eyes frantically scanned the faces for any sign of my mother. No sign of her or Castemont. I didn’t see a face I recognized, but the clothing told me they were all members of nobility, Lords and ladies and barons and baronesses. Were any of them the parents of one of the other Initiates? I couldn’t remember, couldn’t discern their screaming faces from the other screaming faces around them. Even — oh,Saints— even children hadn’t been spared.
I wondered if the Invisible King was among the broken.
“Secure them,” Vorkalth barked to a group of soldiers holding the chains of two noblemen. They held one man in place against a bare area of wrought iron fence, the other to a stone bench. A long piece of chain was wrapped tightly around their bodies once, twice, three times. They unhooked their manacles at the last second, holding their hands at their sides as a guard gave a final tug of the chain, cementing them in place and rendering them incapacitated.
“And you…” Vorkalth purred, once again standing over me, so close I could feel the heat from his body, distinct even in the sweltering summer. Hereekedof sweat and dirt and blood. I made my eyelids appear heavy, once again hoping it was the right thing to do. “Allow me to show you to your accommodations.” He took my chains in one massive hand and placed the other on my lower back. I bristled at his touch, covering it with a quick thrashing movement. We were walking toward Katia’s monument. “You remember this part, don’t you sweetheart? On the ground,” he snarled in my ear, an unsavory smile marking his tone from behind his mask. I thrashed again, which turned out to be a mistake, as he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back against the pedestal of the statue and down to the ground. Another soldier came with the chain.
When it was pulled tight, the pain from my broken ribs threatening to take my consciousness once again, Vorkalth crouched to the ground next to me. “I’m very much looking forward to our time together, but unfortunately it will have to wait until I can join you in Taitha,” he hissed before standing and striding into the mass of writhing bodies.
I laid my head back against the pedestal and closed my eyes. I didn't have to pretend as the tears began to fall.
???
I didn’t know exactly how long it had been, but hours had passed. My neck ached from leaning back against Katia’s marbled feet. Screams had turned to moans, and eventually, a restless silence, the sound of limbs knocking together as they twitched and the odd jangle of shifting chains. Behind the silence was a low roar. It was quiet enough, obscure enough that I couldn’t tell whether it was coming from beyond the castle or within my own head.
As the sun inched closer to the western side of the castle, the masked men began to pick up their pace. Their postures straightened, their grips on the hilts of their swords tightening. I kept as alert as I could though staying lucid was a battle, a tug of war between my mind and my broken body. That low roar, barely a rumble continued in my ears. Was it death coming for me?
I hadn’t been able to check on the arrow wound in my right thigh or the cut on my wrist. Trying to wiggle the toes on my left foot stole the breath from my chest, causing my fractured ribs to scream in pain. The marble pedestal of Katia was smooth against the wound on my back caused by the whip. I wondered what kind of stain my blood would leave when I stood.
Vorkalth burst suddenly into the courtyard from the castle, hand on the hilt of his sword, nodding to the guards. His pacing slowed as he settled in the center of the courtyard, his chin lifting under the bear mask. “You have been chosen,” he announced to the prisoners, his voice booming and somber. “Just as the Benevolent Saints have chosen King Kauvras as their prophet, you have been chosen as his missionaries.” I flinched at the mention of the evil incarnate, Wrena’s words from only three nights ago feeling like distant, unfamiliar memories. I scanned through the conversation in my mind trying to remember any key detail, anything that could help me escape.
“Who the hell is Kauvras?” a rugged voice yelled from behind me. It took me by surprise. I hadn’t heard anyone aside from Vorkalth and the soldiers speak since they’d invaded. I didn’t dare turn around to see who had spoken.
“What did you do to us?” a frantic female voice shouted.
“Silence!” Vorkalth yelled. He pulled his sword from its sheath so quickly that the sound of the metal echoed off the castle walls.
All at once, shouts erupted as people suddenly found their voices, as if they were coming to the realization that the head-lolling and initial pain of the come down were gone.
“What do you want?”
“Why are you here?”
“Where are the Royal Guards?”
He walked up to an older gentleman chained to the wrought iron railing who hadn’t uttered a word and swiftly struck him in the face with a closed fist. The crowd of prisoners gasped. I could tell by his surcoat that he was a lord. The expensive gold material of the garment began to turn red under the blood that gushed from his nose. Nausea hit my stomach at the thought of the once-white dress I still wore, how different things had been just twenty-four hours ago. “You will stayquiet.Understood?” Vorkalth screamed at the prisoners. The man gave a slight moan as he righted his head. “Anyone speaks again and I will take a life.” He leaned in to one of his soldiers. “Though I don’t think they’ll be able to speak much longer,” he said with a chuckle.
The restless quiet settled again, the low rumble reverberating through my bones as I saw Vorkalth straighten. “You’ve been given leechthorn,” he began again, a few soft gasps sounding from the crowd, quickly dissipating. “As you’ve experienced, the high is nothing short of euphoric. It’s a high that has caused women to kill their babes with their bare hands, men to shred their neighbors limb from limb.” He began pacing through the crowd slowly. “The come down is…” he chuckled. “You’ve all had the pleasure now, haven’t you? The chains around you are a mercy. You would have ripped each other,yourselvesapart, skin from muscle, muscle from bone, bone from socket. I’ve watched men gouge their own eyes out and bite their own fingers off. After a few hours, it subsides.” He paused in his walking, staring down at a woman who looked only a few years older than I. He crouched down, running a finger over the dark purple smudges beneath her cloudy eyes. “It subsides, but then the real thirst starts to build. You will no longer have the urge nor ability to speak, and your only thoughts will be about receiving your next hit.”
It does not affect me. It does not affect me. It does not affect me.I chanted it in my head over and over and over, my palms beginning to sweat beneath my chains. What if it had? What if my adrenaline had been pumping so hard that I didn’t feel the effects now? What if I were addicted?
It. Does. Not. Affect. Me.
He rose again, resuming his pacing. “You see, you will get stronger as your need does. You will have the urge to kill. If you do not get your fix, if you go too long, you will die by your own hand.” A woman to my left began to whimper weakly, her face gray. Vorkalth stomped to her side and swung his sword so quickly that she didn’t have time to scream. Her head rolled to the ground, the stump of her neck spraying blood on the prisoners next to her.
Helaughed.A cacophony of muted screams sounded, and it didn’t take long before a snarl rose from his mask. “Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, his voice rough and ragged. The soldiers paced in time with him, staring at prisoners from behind their masks. What kind of cowards would hide their faces this way? “Shortly you will begin your journey to Taitha where you will join the army of King Kauvras in his holy mission.” I fought the terror that threatened to contort my face.
“Mission for what? What the hell is going on?” another man shouted, this time only a few feet in front of me.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Swing. Thwack.
His head fell to the side, rolling once and landing just inches from my feet, blood pooling on the stone. His eyes stared up at me blankly.
“Sainthood.”
