Chapter 64: Enclave XXXIV

Chapter 64: Enclave XXXIV

Come to finish the job?

It was with that question that the air around us subtly changed. The man in red was far too professional to show any outward sign of tension, but the mess of bodyguards and personal attendants were not. Hands crept towards swords, mouths tightened, and the air in the room grew thick and heavy with mounting anticipation.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

It occurred to me briefly that I could easily die there. Guemon was clearly misinformed, but his deathly condition changed the dynamic entirely. I wouldnt put it past the pudgy man to take me down with him out of spite.

I was not afraid. Perhaps, one day, my fear of death would return. But I still felt strangely detached. There was no fear. Only anger. And the strange, woeful, emancipating desire to light any fuse, apathetic of the powder keg.

The man in red moved ever so slightly, and I locked eyes with him. I raised a fist upward, then splayed them out in a gesture for an explosion, giving him a wicked smile. My message was clear. I would not make this easy, if it went that way. And maybe, just maybe, Id take him with me. It was more recklessness than confidence, but the man stirred, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

I ignored him, turning to Guemon. Id say Im sorry to see you so tragically diminished, counselor. I stared at him. But Id be lying.

His chuckles were weak, rattling noises that faded into coughs. Showing your true colors, I see.

I looked over towards the man in red. With all your grandstanding and dithering at the trial I thought youd at least be consistent enough to never hire a human into your employ. So dont talk to me about true colors, when you cant even stick with your small-minded ideals.

Show me the respect I deserve! He snapped.

Return my dagger, and I will.

The room grew dangerously tense. It was not beyond me that I was antagonizing the situation, but it was not a pointless effort. At the trial, Guemon had been relatively easy to unhinge. I was just several deaths passed being coy about it.

All at once, the rage drained out of his clouded eyes. He sagged, then indicated the chair set out at the foot of his bed.

The man in the red moved with me simultaneously, staying parallel. His movements were practiced and easy. It dawned on me why. Despite being nearly three feet away, he was staying within the range he was confident he could kill me in, before I killed Guemon.

Mentally forcing myself to ratchet down the hostility, I took a seat.

Just say something nice.

I pointed to the amoeba on his face. That looks unpleasant.

Guemon snorted. In theory, its supposed to purify and enrich the air. In practice, its like breathing through a wet towel, if the towel was constantly trying to fuck you in the throat. Somewhat apropos to his words, every time he breathed in, a portion of the ooze was sucked inwards.

Unpleasant indeed.

What happened? I asked.

Poison. A particularly nasty poison, fashioned from Garrote Cap. He glared at me. Exactly the sort spineless, shitheel, method youd be capable of.

I blinked. Garrote caps were valuable due to their almost godlike palliative properties when it came to fighting poison. Lillian told me that the fact they were dangerous when used in high concentrations was only recently discovered. The discovery was made by a hapless, short-lived governor who was continuously poisoned by his enemies. He eventually died from taking the powdered caps with every meal. Using them to kill was not only inefficient, it was borderline wasteful and morally dubious, even for poison.

Guemon shook his head when I conveyed this. Hugo found a patch of them in a side cavern near you and that red apothecary forage for ingredients. And I have it on good authority that youre more than competent enough to make such a thing.

I parsed that, filing that particular tidbit of knowledge away for later. Access to the ingredients and know how? Sure. But Ive not been within spitting distance of you for months.

His face clouded, as if he was deciding how much stock to put into my words. There was one window of time we crossed paths, and the assassination attempt occurred within that window.

When?

A few weeks ago, I met Ralakos for a meeting at his estate. There was wine involved, and a few hours later, I started pissing blood. Guemon said, and suddenly, I remembered. Ralakos had shooed me away, half-joking that my mortal enemy would be arriving soon, and I should make myself scarce. All at once, his theory seemed much more credible.

I broke his grip, tried to wiggle out.

He managed to snake around me and get his arm around my neck, his other arm pressing my throat into it, cutting off the blood flow.

Please stop He said.

But I was no longer there.

I was back in the cave. The asmodials crowded around me. A leather strap tightened around my neck slowly, so slowly I wasnt even sure it was more than my imagination until the vein in my forehead started to pound as my heart picked up, struggling against the bond. My hands and my feet were tied.

Still, the strap tightened. My eyes began to bulge. I held out a shaking hand, calling the air to me, trying to force it into my lungs. Theyd removed the manacles that prevented me from summoning. My success was diminutive. The air was too little, like a single raindrop to a man in a desert. Eventually, my eyes began to roll back in my head. My mind stretched like a rubber band.

I remembered Mayas cool touch, her light fingers on the back of my neck. How theyd cleared my thoughts, my pain. She wasnt here, but in those moments right before I blacked out, I could almost feel her there, holding my hand, willing my mind not to snap entirely.

Slowly, agony gave way to euphoria. A rush of emotion so pure and beautiful and light it nearly chased away the dark. Death was close. So very, very close. How I longed for it. Reached for it. In the darkness of the cave, the black beast reached back.

Then the strap would loosen. A lipless asmodial with a tattered blindfold and a face with the texture of a backwater road drove his fist into my gut.

They left me there, gagging for air, trying to reach for it though it would not come, straddling the gap between life and unconsciousness.

Only when I was a few moments from finally regaining my breath, would the strap begin to tighten again.

The look on my face must have amused them. Because they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. The arch-fiend watched from across the room, disinterested. Theyd long since stopped asking me questions. When they did, they were brief. It finally dawned on me that the asmodials didnt expect me to tell them anything.

They didnt care.

They smiled and snarled in the dark as I began to choke once more, their teeth gleaming white in the shadow.

Cairn. Breathe deeply. Follow the sound of my voice. The things youre seeing are not real. Theyre just echoes. A mans voice cut through the horrible images.

Someone was waving something in front of my face to fan me. I was drenched in sweat. I blinked the tears away, not knowing whether this was actually happening or another memory.

To my shock, Erdos was tending to me. His stern face was twisted in uncharacteristic concern. He fanned me gently, and raised a canteen to my lips.

The things that happened before you came here. His wording was carefully vague. That was the first time you saw violence, wasnt it?

I couldnt bring myself to answer.

Its like this, sometimes. Ive seen it before Erdos dabbed at my forehead with a cloth. Some men come out of violence seemingly unscathed. Then weeks, even months later, the savagery of it all hits them. They start jumping at ghosts. Sometimes they break down. He watched me knowingly.

How do I stop it? I could still feel the leather tightening, ever so slowly.

You take care of yourself. You stop blaming yourself for everything.

I met his eyes for the first time then, shocked at the accuracy of his words.

He stepped away from me, giving me space. Thinking that way is a trap. A soldier cant take responsibility for everything. The things youve done, the things done to you. Trying to account for them all leads only to madness.

Then what should I do?

Erdos face was soft, and for the first time I could see the resemblance between him and Bellarex. Its a choice. One youll need to make every day. You look the past in the face, and accept it for what it is. Then move forward.

I tried to take his words to heart. But the simple fact was, his concept of moving forward and mine were very different.