Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (31 page)

His eyes flashed. “I told you we are
only related by blood; stop expecting that to mean something. I have spent my
whole life becoming his perfect weapon, while my master has spent the majority
of his fighting mortality. He may wield power over people, but he has never
done the things I can. Don’t compare us.”

Tickled by his show of pride, I
crawled forward until we were face to face and settled my forehead against his
cold, clammy one. I was smiling.

“No, you aren't like him, are you? You
did a very crazy thing.”

Just like that, his aggression
crumbled away and his voice suddenly grew soft and sullen again. “I didn’t lie
to you. I didn’t know why he wanted you here.” He had closed his eyes, and was
taking in the air slowly, delicately, like it was a fine wine.

“But you suspected things,” I said.
His head nodded against mine.

“Yes.”

“Stop that,” I said good-naturedly.
“It's that damned honesty of yours that makes it impossible for me to hate you.
It isn't fair to trap people like that, you know.”

“You're a hypocrite,” he said so
quietly. His head bowed lower, brushing down my cheek, and his fingers clawed
against the dark rock floor. “Tell me what it is you want. Anything.”

I buried my fingers unconsciously in
his hair, petting him as if he were in dog-form. I only realized I had done it
when his back went rigid, but I left my hand there anyway.

“You have no responsibility to give me
anything, Traken.”

“That isn’t what I want to hear,” he
said, voice tight. “You aren’t allowed to say you don’t need me now, Blood
Fox.”

 
Need
was a strong word, but I
couldn’t say that. There was something important in this act that I was
missing, something my mind just couldn’t wrap around. The answer was not in my
book, or with the Restful Monks, or even in the wilds where I had raised myself
on hatred. I did not know where the thing that hurt him came from, and what I
was supposed to do to fix it. I don’t think even he could put it into words.

What good were we, with all our age,
to still have so little understanding? How many years had we wasted? Had we
really lived at all? Traken’s words whispered back to me like the ghosts of all
my other memories.

Have either of us truly?
 

I sat back from him, removing my hand,
and waited until he looked up and met my gaze.

“You already know what I'm going to
do,” I said. “I have to… I can’t stop now that I’m so close.”

“I knew the moment I made my
decision,” he said.

“Now you want me to ask you to help in
a fight that has nothing to do with you, to help kill the man who your entire
life has centered around?”

“You won’t ask me anything,” he said.
“I want you to
tell
me. Tell me what you want, and that’s all you need
to do.”

“Traken, I can’t—”

“Say it,” he demanded, lurching
forward so that I could feel his hot breath against my face. His voice,
gravelly from use, grew to a shout as he spoke. “Say what it is you want. Don’t
think of me, don’t fill my ears with how you want to do this alone and you
don’t need any help. Spare me ridiculous ideals on family blood ties and
fortune-telling and regrets. Tell me what it is you want!”

“
I want him dead!
” I shot back,
his ridicule sparking rage in my gut. My swords stirred from their apathy
across the stone floor. “I want him to die painfully, and I want to do it with
my own hands so that he knows exactly what he’s paying for.”

The wildness in me sang, and I saw a
flicker of a grin cross Traken’s weary face. He leaned forward, and suddenly
his lips touched ever-so-gently against the top of my forehead. Every muscle in
me stiffened.

“As you wish,” he said, and stood.

The connotation did not pass by me. In
the Emperor’s court, a kiss on the forehead or the hand was a sign of reverence
and submission. This had felt… somehow more binding. Rubbing the warm spot on
my forehead, I stood as well, and wondered what devil’s deal I had just made.  

“What are you doing?” I asked,
scrambling to grab my swords and bag off the ground. When I turned to look at
him again, Traken was in dog form, his silky black tail wagging pleasantly.

“I’ll lead the way,” his detached
voice whispered in my ears.

“I wish I knew why you were doing
this,” I said, softly and mostly to myself, because I knew at this point that
he wasn’t planning to tell me anything more. His dark fur melded with the
shadows, but I could see his gleaming canines.

“Don’t sound so suspicious, princess.
I don’t play mind games… I’ll let your own mind do that.”

“You don’t often give direct answers
either,” I grumbled, reluctantly following the four-footed sorcerer as his
magi-globe whisked after him. His easy trot was not as hard to keep up with as
his logic.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, and
it sounded so much like a parent counseling a young child that I lashed my foot
out at his swaying tail and only clipped the tip.

“If I’m still breathing after this,
I’m going to find a way to shut that annoying mouth of yours,” I said. “There
has to be a spell or a curse somewhere in Kurdak.”  

He stopped, turning slowly, and his
dark eyes glowered at me. “Let’s talk annoying, then; stop saying things all
the time that make it sound like you’re about to die. Would death really make
you that happy?”

“You can't plan survival,” I reminded,
smiling lopsidedly at him. “I’m certainly not going to stop breathing until he
does, though.”

“Reckless,” Traken said, his echoing
voice aided by a deep growl by the dog in front of me. I was about to argue
back, but something occurred to me.

“Hasn’t it been a while since those
scars of yours lit up? I mean, are you not feeling any pain?”

The moment those words left my lips,
the air chilled. I recognized the oncoming energy, and a thrill of fear jolted through
me. Traken froze, then twisted and rushed at me, paws clicking against stone.
There was nothing between us, but nonetheless he bounced off something in
midair and went rolling backwards, ripples forming in the shadows that he hit.
A whimper escaped the dog’s throat, but he was back on his paws in seconds,
rushing at it again.

“Santo, run!”

“Too late,” I wanted to tell him, but
no words were coming out now. The blunt energy had pooled around me, choking
out sound, and all I could do was meet Traken’s eyes one last time as the
energy snapped me back into the darkness.

I flew sharply around one corner and
the next, sandals scraping stone. This time wasn’t a soft landing. My back
smacked flat against the slippery stone walls of whatever decrepit part of the
dungeon this was and jarred my bones. I landed in a crumpled heap on the floor,
tasting blood from where I had bit the inside of my cheek. Years of instincts
told me to reach for my swords, which were hard to see in the darkness but had
landed on the floor upon impact, just a couple feet away on each side. I tried,
limbs throbbing, but was immediately overwhelmed by the weight of a sturdy
body.

There was a sound of scraping metal
and chains, and I felt heavy bands being forced around my wrists. I struggled,
but I couldn’t see where the attack was coming from and could barely move. I
suppose I got in a good kick against my attacker, because I definitely heard a
grunt, but it wasn’t enough. As soon as the metal was around my wrists, there
came a cold, empty feeling as my few remaining daggers were stripped off the
straps on my arms. Then a magi-globe suddenly bloomed to a brilliant glow above
my head.

I was trapped in a small room again,
this time one that had definitely once been a cell. The walls were dark stone
covered in moss and old things that smelled of death, and rusty metal bars
enclosed half the entrance. I was chained against the back wall with ancient
shackles that grated against my skin and only extended a foot for either arm,
leaving them suspended halfway in the air from my seated position on the dank
floor.

The room was far more interesting than
my attacker, since I had already guessed Derk would be standing there. The
broad-shouldered man was grinning wildly, quite proud of his capture. I could
still hear raucous barking from far away, mixed with rumbling explosions that
could only be the clashing of pure energy.

“I had to pick the right moment,” Derk
said, his small eyes glimmering. I noticed he wasn’t injured any longer. “It’s
all about timing, you see. If you want to hurt someone in the deepest possible
way, you have to wait for that right moment. Give them a chance to realize
their mistakes, a faint hope of stopping something from going wrong. It’s a
style that borders on art.”

“Or, you know, madness,” I said,
giving the chains a good yank. They were old, but still felt dishearteningly
sturdy. I met Derk’s laughing gaze. “So you were sent to bring me back to your
master, were you?”

“Certainly that
is
what I was
sent for,” Derk said, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of me, well
out of the range of my feet or fists. My swords, throbbing with outrage on the
ground, were close enough if I stretched my feet far out, but Derk was waiting
for me to try something.

“Well?” I asked. “Is your master
coming here or are we going there? Why chain me to the wall?”

“So eager for another go at him,
aren’t you?” he asked, grin widening. “That stump looks quite wonderful on him,
by the way. I appreciate the effort… even our witch couldn’t put it back
together. Apparently the hand itself rolled into the Waters of Seeing and he
has been throwing quite the fit ever since.”

“Good,” I said, a cold sweat trickling
down the side of my face. This wasn’t going where I thought it would.

“I also need to congratulate you on
swaying that pup out there. Of course, I could already tell there was going to
be problems. It was ridiculous to think he could handle a task that involved
talking to someone instead of killing them. Then, of course, it had to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Blood Fox.” His eyes twinkled.
“The moment I learned who you were it all started to make sense. Traken has
always been infatuated with your legend, ever since the war that made you
infamous. Any mention of you thrilled him. I’m sure he has asked you many
questions about your life by now, hasn’t he? Admiration does not even begin to
define his obsession.”

“He has probably been let down, then,”
I said, mind abuzz. Traken had not started following me until almost 20 years
after the Broken Treaty wars had ended. I had assumed he had initially
introduced himself on the orders of his lord, but now I had to wonder if during
this whole time he was supposed to be speaking to me at all. For someone as
curious as Traken… maybe he couldn’t resist.

“I would have been,” Derk said,
smirking. “Then again, I can tell just by looking at you that rumors are
greatly over-exaggerated. I do not see a legendary killer in your eyes. Traken
doesn’t know people well enough that way. He has spent too much time directly
under our master’s thumb.”

“And you… haven’t?” I faltered, trying
to cling to this strange conversation, keep him talking, as I twisted my hands
and tried to squeeze them out of the rusty metal. It was rubbing my skin raw
already.

“I am my own person,” Derk barked,
laughing loudly. “I may follow the orders of the man we call ‘master’, but I
have lived my own life as well. I don’t need someone else to think for me.”
Derk leaned in, cruel eyes dancing as he spoke softer. “See, Traken and I are
the only ones that know who this man really is. We know that he is human, and
weak, and only concerned with everlasting life and power. Traken follows this
goal without question… or follow
ed
, until today. I, however, am more
interested in what these exploits get
me
.”

“You aren’t planning to bring me to
your lord,” I said.

“Such disappointment,” he said,
shaking with twisted mirth. “My, my, but you want to kill him so badly, don’t
you? Don’t worry, I will kill him myself, eventually. Isn’t it nice to know
your goals aren’t completely going to waste?”

“Which means you plan to kill me,” I
said, teeth clenched. “Why? What does that get you?”

“Everything.” His teeth gleamed as he
brought a finger to his nose. “Our master’s only interest is in longevity, as I
said, and that sweet scent of yours must hold what he craves. Truthfully, I’m
not as interested in eternal power as he is, but I would not turn it down if it
were staring me in the face.” His eyes crinkled. “Like now.”

“My blood can do no such thing,” I
said, anger aching in my words. “There is nothing in me worth killing for.”

“There is something,” Derk said. “I
can taste it in the air. Which leaves me with the choice to either bring you
back to my master, who will cut you open and take what magnificent power is
there, or to cut you open myself and take the power for my own.” He reached
behind him, where a staff was strapped to his back. Only now, as he pulled the
staff over and around, did I realize it was actually more like a spear.

“You can imagine how easy the choice is,”
he finished, flashing the wicked blade.

“Magic and spears… the weapons of
cowards,” I murmured, tired of being played with. His smile widened.

“I am not fool enough to get close to
you again, little thing. I can do my work well enough from here.”

I didn’t wait and lashed out quickly
with one foot, trying to distract him as my kick missed his spear by inches and
headed straight towards Phernado, to his right. Perhaps he didn’t realize my
true intent, but it didn’t matter. He easily slapped my leg down with the shaft
of his spear, and in the same movement plunged the sharp end of his weapon deep
into the bare skin of my middle, right through the freshly-healed scars and
sore muscle tissue.

There were no words to describe the tangle
of agony that split my nerves. I screamed through gritted teeth, twisting my
raw wrists around in their shackles with violent, wild tugs. I latched on to
the spear shaft with my knees, the only limbs that could reach, but there was
no way to yank it out that way. Blood pounded loudly in my ears.

Somewhere in the darkness outside the
cell, I could just make out shouts above my own. Derk looked back as the angry
sound grew louder, holding the spear firmly in place from his seated position
in front of me.

“The poor pup is about to lose another
master already.” He looked increasingly cheerful. “I’ve warned him about
putting all his eggs in one basket before.”

“I’m
not
his master,” I
growled, blood gurgling up in my throat. Derk hushed me with a finger to his
own lips, those haughty eyes mocking my rage.

“Shh, you need to stay alive a while
longer while I experiment. Besides, denial doesn’t change a solid fact. Traken
was brought up from birth to do one thing, and that is obey. He may look solid,
but he can’t survive on his own. Without a stronger will guiding him, he simply
washes away into nothingness.” His grin widened. “It’s very pathetic. He acts
haughty, but he's really a broken little toy that thinks he's whole. Kindness,
affection, compassion; all words he'd spit at, because he has never known them.
That is, until a tempting little thing like you comes along and embraces him.”

“You hate him… a lot,” I whispered,
struggling with each heavy breath. “You’re mistaken if you think you’re
stronger than him. Or me. Your existence is small and meaningless.”

“What nasty little words,” he spat,
twisting the blade in my stomach just enough to send my body into convulsions
again as I bit down fresh screams of agony. “That isn't very
polite
, is
it? You can try to influence my mind as much as you want, but it won’t work on
me as it did with Traken.”

“I did nothing to Traken.”

“This smell alone is enough to do
something,” Derk said, inhaling deeply. Magic prickled my skin as he placed one
finger on the shaft of the spear, and then removed his hands entirely. The
strangest, ugliest sensation swept through me, and then I watched with horror
as the blade in my stomach made a gurgling sound, and bubbles emerged from my
wound. My own blood, already soaking my open robe and pooling on the floor
underneath me, started to crawl up the blade, through rivets in the metal I
hadn’t noticed. Those rivets continued in straight lines up the wooden shaft,
and the blood followed.

Soon my very own life source was
flowing slowly out of me like a fountain. When it reached the top of the shaft,
pointed straight at Derk, it met along all the other rivets and poured from
that end like a tiny waterfall.

It sickened and scared me.

“All in the effect,” he said. He held
out one finger into the blood and then licked that finger, brow furrowed. His
eyes lit.

“There is some power in this… I can
feel it wiggling through me, like a rush of warm water against skin. I don’t
know what technique our master was going to use to extract the power, but I
think a blood ritual using flesh magic would probably be best.” He glanced at
me, eyes crinkling. “If I need to sacrifice anyone, I can sacrifice you.”

Oh, this really wasn’t going well. I
groaned, clawing at the open air with my bloody hands, screaming inside for
some way to move. Derk kneeled on the ground, just outside the puddle forming
beside him, and started drawing intricate and ancient symbols into the stone
with my blood. The only sound for a moment was my heavy breathing, and the
explosions of power in the distance. I thought I heard words too, but they were
unintelligible.

“Speaking of that idiot,” Derk said
cheerily, as if we had been talking, “doing this is really going to kill two
birds with one stone. Quite literally, in fact. I wasn’t kidding when I said
Traken will fade away. He’ll die without a master.”

“What?” I growled, feet slipping in my
own liquid as I shakily tried to move. Phernado and Valentina had not been
silent beside me. They were pulsing, radiating, screaming to my skin from so
close but so far away.

“So you do care what happens to him.”
His eyes were malicious. “A sorcerer only lengthens his life because he has the
will to live. Traken has no such will for himself. Do you really still think
he’s stronger than me?” The bursts of power grew more thunderous outside, and
sweat dripped down Derk’s chin as he swiped a hand hastily through the air, as
if shooing something that I couldn’t see. So the reason he wasn’t using so much
magic with me right now was because he was busy using it to fend off Traken.

“He isn’t tied to me,” I tried telling
him again, though perhaps it was to convince myself as well. Derk made a
condescending noise in his throat.

“I’ve watched that boy forever… he’s
more of a dog than most dogs are. Trained well, they obey when given orders.
Traken obeys even without the orders. He moves to match his leader’s will. In a
fight between you and his master, he left his master bleeding and saved you.
Doesn’t that tell you who he follows now?”

“He’s human,” I said weakly. “He can
think and feel on his own. You speak like he’s some magicked beast with no soul.”  

“I’ve wondered over the years,” he
muttered, carefully forming another symbol on the floor. “He may try to come
crawling back to our master when he finds you dead and dry, though. Ever the
opportunist. I’m tired of all of them.”

He was talking to himself now, and I
used that moment to stretch one shaky leg out towards the sword opposite of
where he was facing. My sandal just reached the tip of Valentina’s handle, but
when I tried to bring her in closer the movement caused the shaft of the spear
to shake, splashing my slow-moving blood up onto Derk’s back.