Prisoner (49 page)

"Like that, Salharan? Or are you Illussor? It's so hard to tell…" Benno's voice was idle, almost lazy in tone, but Beraht knew from experience his eyes would be hard and cold. "A clever little creation of my unfortunate Cobalt General, though I wonder how great a general he could have been to have fallen so easily to filth like you. Obviously he was useless when taken out of his fortress."

Beraht finally managed to lift his head. "Von Eisenberg wasn't terribly impressive, either." He grunted when von Dresden backhanded him and licked the blood from his lips. Lifting his eyes to Von Dresden, he sneered. "You would have been next." This time he made no sound at all as the back of her hand cracked hard and painful across his face.

"That liquid you just drank was, as I'm sure you've realized, highly concentrated cleanser. It burns the arcen immediately from your system. What's more, you've swallowed so much of it that I doubt your body will ever again tolerate arcen." Benno's smile was infuriatingly smug.

Only the fact that he was too weak to move kept Beraht from punching the expression off his face. Never use arcen again… Surely that was a lie. The cleansers had been potent, and he was going to be sick for weeks after being made to drink so much at once, but he could not believe it had completely destroyed his ability to use arcen. Absurd.

Benno motioned. "Tie him up in front of my tent. See he doesn't freeze to death, but do no more." He stood up and approached Beraht, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to look up. "Your eyes—when we captured you they were red. Now they are merely yellow again. The color of the general you did not kill, and who has helped ruin what was probably the only skill you had." He laughed coldly. "Though the stupid Deceivers obviously think you're worth something. How valuable are you, I wonder? I suppose we shall see."

"What do you mean?" Beraht demanded, hating the hoarse rasping that was his voice.

He was released roughly and toed over to lie on his back. Benno loomed over him. Beraht glared hatefully back. "We've already sent a ransom demand for you," Benno explained.

Beraht tried to laugh, but the movement hurt too much. "All you Krians are mad! I once told that bastard what I will tell you now: no one will pay a ransom for me."

"You had better hope you are wrong," Benno said, planting one foot on Beraht's stomach and slowly putting his weight behind it, not letting up until Beraht finally let out a choked gasp of pain. "If they do not bring the ransom I have demanded, you will die slowly and painfully. You killed two of my generals. If you think three vials of that cleanser were bad, wait until we feed you a dozen more and then make you drink this." He pulled a familiar looking vial from within his dark, heavy cloak.

Beraht paled. His second vial of concentrated red arcen.

"I see you begin to understand. You should not have much to fear, though, Salharan. All I want in exchange is my Scarlet General. No one will mind parting with him, not when they have apparently taken all that remains of my Scarlet Army."

What little hope Beraht had held out that
someone
might rescue him, trade for him, died. It was more painful than he thought it should have been, forcing him to the bitter realization that he'd liked the strange life he'd seemed to have acquired in his brief stay in Illussor. There'd been no guarantee it would last, but he had been willing to see it through. Now he never would.

His role was over. He was of no further use to Illussor, not now that he'd served his purpose as the Breaker. More important to Prince Matthias and all the others—he admitted begrudgingly—was the bastard who could teach them to fight in the Krian style. There was no choice there. Better to let him die.

Beraht didn't bother to resist as men hauled him up and tied him up in front of the Kaiser's tent. Though the fires were close enough to provide warmth, and they gave him blankets aplenty and a bedroll to separate him from the cold ground, all he felt was cold.

*~*~*

"I am going to kill him," Dieter said slowly and precisely, enunciating every word as though it took great effort to form them.

Given that he was barely unclenching his jaw to do it, Matthias didn't doubt a great deal of effort was, in fact, required. "I'm sure he meant well—"

Dieter glared at the missive on his desk. "I am certain that idiot never thought it through enough to realize how stupid he was being. He is far too impulsive to be a soldier; I am amazed he's lived this long."

Matthias wisely did not point out that it was only because of Dieter that Beraht was still alive. "I think Beraht always intends to do what he feels is best." He smothered a laugh as Dieter's glower only darkened further. "So what should we do?"

"I am going to get that fool back so that I can kill him myself," Dieter said, standing. Nearby, one of his attendants came forward with his heavy cloak. Dieter turned to Reinhard. "Assemble a guard to escort me as far as the border. Make certain that any Illussor who are willing are included; it is their country being defended, after all."

"Are you sure it's wise?" Kalan asked as he walked with deceptive casualness into the room and leaned idly against the wall beside the large map covering most of it. "It seems to me Benno wants nothing less than your head on a spit."

Dieter grunted. "At the very least. You are suggesting we leave Beraht to die?" Matthias lifted a brow at the chill that entered Dieter's voice. Though Dieter was never soft about anything, he was never quite that cold.

"Of course not," Kalan said calmly. "I simply mean sending you out there is not the best way to handle things. We risk losing both of you."

"I will be fine," Dieter said. "This is a matter I should have settled a long time ago. I will end it now."

Kalan looked at him, eyes sharp. "There is something personal here."

Dieter did not reply, merely stalked past them and out the door, his retainers and attendants falling into step around him before gradually breaking off to attend to some duty or errand. Matthias walked not far behind with Kalan at his side, but cut left where Dieter kept going straight, moving to the balcony that overlooked the main courtyard while Dieter headed for the courtyard.

When Dieter reached it, Reinhard and what looked to be about a hundred men stood at attention, patiently waiting. More than half were Illussor. Dieter nodded to all of them and mounted his horse as it was brought to him. He turned to face Matthias.

"Be cautious, but victorious," Matthias said. "We have never let the Krians defeat us before, we will not now. Go with the Goddess."

Dieter saluted him and turned his horse around to lead the way from the courtyard, barking commands in sharp, guttural Krian. His men were relearning how to fight in the Krian style even down to the language. Matthias chuckled softly.

"This is foolish," Esta said, coming up behind him. "Can we really trust him? How do we know this is not some trap or—"

Matthias cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. "He is my general, Duchess."

Beside him Kalan laughed, oblivious to or uncaring of the nasty look Esta shot him "At any rate, I do not doubt for a moment that he intends to rescue Beraht and at the very least beat him senseless before tying him down someplace so he'll stay out of trouble."

A strange look Matthias couldn't place flickered across Esta's face at Kalan's words. "There is that," she finally said. "I suppose I should tell the healers to be ready for trouble of some form or another." Muttering to herself, Esta tucked a stray bit of hair back into the tidy braid coiled around the back of her head and gathered the skirts of her maroon gown, turning away to tend her duties and not bothering to bid them farewell.

Kalan looked after her, both brows raised. "What does she know that we don't?"

"Who knows," Matthias said with a roll his eyes. "Women always know everything; they like to hoard the information until it can be used to maximum effect. Especially Esta."

"Yet you want to marry her," Kalan said, shaking his head and giving a dramatic sigh.

Matthias grinned. "What's not to love about a woman who is more than willing to beat sense into me and could probably manage it?"

"I prefer the sweet ones myself," Kalan said idly. "Come on. While your general is wreaking havoc on his homeland, we can go terrorize the council."

"Couldn't I go count snowflakes instead?" Matthias asked with a sigh, but obediently limped slowly alongside Kalan through the halls.

*~*~*

Beraht fell to the snow with a wet thump, too tired and sick to really feel the cold. He was past caring anyway. Let him freeze a bit; it would dull some of the pain he was about to start feeling. Though why they had brought him out here to do the deed, he didn't know. Benno was obviously the sort who preferred an audience.

"As promised," Benno said, his voice cutting sharply across the quiet, snow-smothered field.

"Barely," a familiar voice rumbled. Realization struck Beraht like a fist to the gut. He forced open his sore eyes and with an effort, lifted his head.

Von Adolwulf.

What—what was von Adolwulf doing here? Surely the stars-refused bastard hadn't actually come out here to pay the ransom?

Beraht's thoughts stuttered and stopped, and dizzily he let his head fall back down. When he was reasonably certain he would not once again try to heave up his empty stomach, he lifted it again.

Arrayed behind von Adolwulf, forming a half-circle of at least fifty men that matched the half-circle behind the Kaiser, was a mixture of Illussor and Scarlet. All were still, quiet; even the Illussor did not look as nervous as they probably felt.

Snow crunched loudly as von Adolwulf dismounted. He drew his sword and stepped forward, stopping about six or so paces away. He glared at Beraht, but said nothing and shifted his gray-green eyes, dark with anger, back to Benno. "If you think simply to trade one for the other, I am afraid you are quite mistaken."

"Oh, I plan to kill you here and now," Benno replied and motioned. "I have not decided if I want to kill your prisoner or keep him. He's quite useless now, but it would please me to have him."

Von Adolwulf sneered. "If you had not murdered my father, you would have something of your own and would not need to steal from others."

"Be silent," Benno hissed, drawing his own sword. Beraht looked at it, willing his eyes to focus even as he longed to sleep and never wake. The sword was nearly a match for von Adolwulf's: the same length with a hilt that was dark and set with a crystal in the pommel. The metal, however, did not shimmer. Beside von Adolwulf's sword, it was dull. If he were not feeling so wretchedly, miserably ill, he would have been disgusted with himself for thinking that.

"You have been nothing, but the bane of my existence since your birth, son of Meinrad."

"You think he chose us over you?" von Adolwulf asked, tensing as Benno stepped forward. "He wanted me only to mold into that which would most please you. What will you do after I am dead?"

"Leave your carcass for the dogs as I did with your father!" Benno snarled and lunged, sword arching and steel ringing as their blades clashed.

Von Adolwulf returned the snarl with one of his own, easily blocking the swing as well as the next. Beraht could not keep from staring. The last time he'd seen von Adolwulf fight had been in the Coliseum, and that had been completely different. Then there'd been no real challenge until the end, and von Adolwulf had been put in a weaker position by Benno.

This was entirely different.

It was making him even dizzier to watch them. They moved in a perversion of the dances Esta had been attempting to teach him, but instead of a turn at the end of each step, another smear of blood was added to the ravaged snow.

Morning sunlight reflected off von Adolwulf's arcen-rich blade, and Benno flinched from the unexpected flash of light, the low cut he swung faltering slightly. A heartbeat later he stumbled back, clutching at his left arm, which was now bleeding profusely.

"Bastard," Benno hissed and hefted his heavy sword in his right hand. Von Adolwulf sneered, but made no reply, moving on the offensive as Benno lifted his sword.

Benno grunted and blocked the swing, but with his left arm disabled there was no contest. Blood gushed as von Adolwulf's sword plunged through his chest. Benno grunted, his face turning gray.

Disgusted, von Adolwulf pulled his sword free and watched dispassionately as Benno collapsed to the ground. "Pathetic. I will never understand—" He shook his head and turned to Beraht and Heilwig. "Let him go, whore, or you will join Benno."

Heilwig stepped up behind Beraht and yanked his head back, pressing a dagger to his throat. Beraht felt the cold press of the steel, and hated it. "You would not reach me before I slit his throat," she said calmly.

Von Adolwulf hefted his sword. "Kill him, and I kill you. What would you rather do, von Dresden?"

"Return home," Heilwig said flatly. "I advised him against this." She shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted you to leave him cold and dead out here in the middle of the nowhere. I bedded the man, but his thoughts seldom made sense to me. I do not think even he understood his own thoughts." Her eyes were speculative as she stared at von Adolwulf. "You are, of course, completely and utterly a traitor to the crown."

"By all rights I could take the crown," von Adolwulf said.