"Be careful. Vargul Ashnazai put some kind of magic on it."
Seregil glanced up. "Who?"
"The necromancer who was with Mardus in Wolde. And he's not the only one around, either. They've got a dyrmagnos with them."
"Bilairy's Balls! But there's got to be some way. I'm not leaving you here!"
Alec's heart hammered in his chest as he watched Seregil inspect the lock. It was torture, being this close but still separated.
"Ah, here's something—" Seregil began, but just then torchlight flared behind him.
"Seregil, look out!"
Turning, they found Vargul Ashnazai leering up at them, flanked by a half-dozen armed soldiers.
"How clever of you to have found us," the necromancer gloated. "I much appreciate your effort. And your boy played his part very convincingly, no?"
Seregil shot Alec a startled look.
It was the cruelest blow yet, that accusing look. It froze Alec's throat, so that he could only shake his head imploringly.
Seregil drew his sword and sprang from the wagon, away from Ashnazai's men. But others were waiting for him in the shadows.
Flinging himself against the bars, Alec watched with horror as Seregil fought for his life. He ran a guard through and slashed another across the neck before the others leapt at him from behind, knocking him to the ground and pinning him.
The necromancer barked an order and they yanked Seregil to his feet. His face was bloody, but he held his head high and spat at the necromancer, eyes blazing with hate.
Ashnazai gave another order. This time Seregil was dragged up into the bear cart and lashed hand and foot to the bars facing Alec.
"I didn't help him, I swear," Alec whispered hoarsely. "Oh, Seregil, I—"
"It doesn't matter much now," Seregil growled, turning his face away.
"Not in the least," Ashnazai agreed, climbing into the cart behind him with Seregil's sword in his hand.
"It's a pity you were cut, but then I'd hardly dare chance putting the two of you together again." He grabbed Seregil by the hair, pulling his head back. "Who knows what mischief you'd make, eh?"
Stepping back, he placed the point of the sword against the small of Seregil's back and pushed slowly, twisting the blade.
Seregil let out a strangled cry and grasped the bars. Alec reached through, grappling for the sword, but one of Ashnazai's men pulled him away, holding him back as the necromancer drove the blade out through Seregil's belly and then yanked it free.
Seregil let out a harsh scream and sank to his knees. Struggling free, Alec caught at him, trying to hold him through the bars. He felt hot blood under his hands. More ran from the corner of Seregil's mouth.
Alec wanted to speak, but no words would come.
Seregil looked at him, his wide grey eyes full of sorrow and recrimination.
Pulling the dying man's head back again, Ashnazai drew the blade across Seregil's throat. More blood pumped from the severed arteries, spattering Alec's face and chest.
Seregil struggled weakly for a moment, his last breath gurgling horribly through the gaping wound. With a final spasm, he went limp, eyes open and vacant.
Sobbing, Alec clung to his friend's body until the soldiers cut it loose from the bars and dragged it from his grasp.
Ashnazai looked down at him with disdain. "That was most enjoyable. Your turn comes soon, but not so mercifully. But then, you know that, I think."
It had been an illusion, just another of
Ashnazai's tricks.
Alec repeated this over and over to himself as the cart rumbled north the next day.
But the dried blood on his hands and clothing was real enough. So were the stains on the canvas ticking of the mattress and the wood at the back of the cart where Seregil had fallen.
Seregil is dead.
It was an illusion.
Seregil is dead.
It was—
His grief was too deep for tears. It was so vast that it blotted out everything else. He couldn't eat or sleep or take in his surroundings. Hunched in a corner of the cage, he clasped his hands around his knees and rested his head on them, shutting out the world.
Seregil is dead.
As the flat, empty day wore on, Alec often felt Ashnazai's gloating gaze on him, sipping at his anguish like wine. He kept his eyes averted, unable to bear the sight of that smug, satisfied smile. The necromancer bided his time, keeping his distance until the afternoon.
"The guards tell me you eat and drink nothing all day," he said, riding beside him.
Alec ignored him.
"Too bad not to keep up your strength," Ashnazai went on airily. "Perhaps a diversion will cheer you. The scouts found a cave where we will make camp.
After so many days of this cage—so drafty, so many eyes looking—a snug cave will be nice for you, eh?
It will be most, how do you say—?"
He paused. "Most cozy."
His parting laugh left no doubt that something particularly unpleasant was in the offing. Alec shivered, partly out of dread, partly from a sudden burst of excitement. This could be his final chance for escape.
He gazed out over the ocean, trying to imagine how many miles lay between him and Rhiminee.
Nysander was dead.
Seregil was dead.
Cilia. Diomis. Thryis. Rhiri.
The names fell like stones against his heart. If he couldn't get away tonight, then he'd just as soon die trying.
Sometimes total despair was the best substitute for hope.
The column halted for the night at the base of a small cliff surrounded by forest. Below the road, the ground fell way sharply to sea ledges.
By this point, Alec had taken stock of his limited options. Somewhere to the north lay the Mycenian border. If he did manage to get free tonight, it was the only direction worth going. If he followed the coast, it improved his chances of meeting friendly forces. It meant fleeing with Thero in tow and Mardus close behind, but if he could elude him, stay concealed and some distance ahead, then maybe they had a chance.
If not, he'd put up a fight.
When the column showed signs of stopping for the night he quickly transferred the precious nail from the seam of his tunic into his mouth and stood at the bars, watching. The wagoneer drove the bear cart some way apart from the main camp as usual, trundling to a halt at the ledges on the seaward side of the trail. Their position, Alec noted with growing hope, had the added advantage of being to the north of the main camp, which meant fewer pickets between him and freedom.
Ashnazai was taking no chances. Half a dozen armed guards came to escort the prisoners to their new quarters. The cave was a rough, deep fissure beneath a shelf of ledge overlooking the sea. It was damp, but large enough for a man to stand up in. A stout iron staple had been driven into a crack in the back wall and two lengths of heavy chain hung from it.
One of the guards asked something in Plenimaran. The necromancer answered at some length and his men laughed, then looped the end of a chain around Alec's neck and secured it with a padlock.
"He asked if I wished you shackled by the leg," Ashnazai told Alec. "I told him, "An animal will chew off a limb to escape a trap but I think even this clever young thief cannot chew off his own head."
Still chuckling darkly at the voron's little joke, the guards chained Thero in the same fashion while Vargul Ashnazai looked on with obvious satisfaction.
"That should hold you nicely," he said, giving the staple a final tug. "I suggest you waste no effort in trying to free yourself from these bonds. Even if you did somehow manage to do so, you would find your way blocked by things more dangerous than chains or guards. Rest now, while you can."
Favoring Alec with another sly, repulsive smile, he added, "Our time together grows short. I look forward to making this a memorable evening for us all."
Hatred welled up in Alec's throat like bile.
Ashnazai was only a few feet away, well within the reach of the chain. Alec clenched his fists at his sides and mumbled, "I won't forget you anytime soon."