Lovu

  Utter terror was a fascinating experience. Up until the attack on Lavote, Lovu believed he had felt fear, but seeing Sir Wangom and Itkilmo die made him realize that even the deepest terror he had felt before then had been little more than anxiety. Still, the shock overrode almost everything else in his mind, like deadened pain through the haze of anesthetics.

  Now, staring down the cause of that same fear with sobering clarity, he finally understood utter terror. Before Tama Foyrilmang had even finished her sentence, his body leapt into action. Mind blank, turning on his heels, he ran. It didn’t matter where, so long as it was away from her and the wretched stench filling the estate’s storied halls. When the Honor escorting him caught him under the arm, every thought focused on escape turned to force as he battered his pathetic fists against the plate armor.

  “No!” he shouted, as if it would change anything. “Let go of me!”

  “Come now my prinshe,” Tama said, striding toward him. “You wouldn’t run out on me again, would you? Not apter we were sho rudely interrupted lasht time.”

  “Stay away!” He continued to push, but it didn’t buy him any space as the Lord pushed closer.

  “Don’t be apraid, my prinshe.” Now she was standing directly in front of him. All she needed to do was reach out to touch him. She leaned forward until she was just inches from his face, until he could see the shattered fragments of what few teeth remained at the front of her mouth. The rest were raw, bloody sockets. “I’m no shabage.”

  The adrenaline coursing through his veins refused to let him sit still. “Then let me go! If you truly-”

  A sudden pain in his gut stopped whatever plea he was about to make. Tama pulled back her fist, slamming it back into him twice more. The air left his lungs and he slumped forward, held up only by the Honor on his arm.

  “I’m no shabage,” she repeated, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head up to meet her eyes. “I’m not doing zhish out of cruelty. All I need ish retribushion.”

  “What did I… ever do to you?” he asked, fighting for breath.

  “You? Noshing,” she said, grabbing him by his matted hair and dragging him toward the table, where she slammed his face down onto it. Pressing her entire body weight onto his cheek, she leaned down to meet his eyes again. “Your pamily? Zhat’sh anozher shtory. Not to mention your shtupid pucking boypriend.”

  “That wasn’t-” A knife point at his throat stopped him. No matter how horrific Tama may have looked, the warm trickle of blood on his throat now held his full attention.

  “Nuh uh. It’sh my turn to talk and I’m going to take ebery pound ob plesh owed to me out of you,” she said, pulling the knife away and tracing it up his cheek. He tried to flinch away as it grew closer to his eye, but her grip on his head kept him in place. “Ip you had been a good little pet lasht time we had zhish conbershashion, I would habe been mershipul. Giben you a quick deash onshe you sherbed your purposhe. Inshtead, I shink I’ll play wish you until we habe Akil Bor shapely in cushtody.”

  The blade sliced into his temple, right at the edge of his Wounds. The snap of the flesh breaking rippled through his body, numbing his senses as he screamed. She dragged it down, creating a river of blood that ran into his eyes. The thought of her planning to strip his face off completely briefly flickered through his mind.

  “My Lord,” the Honor at the door said. “I don’t think-”

  “I know,” Tama said, pulling the knife away. Lovu’s hands numbly reached up to the wound, only to come back soaked in red. “I need to make shure you lasht. Knibesh will be too quick.”

  Lovu’s eyes darted to the shattered windows at the end of the dining hall and his limbs scrambled to move him closer. In his education about the Lords and their families, he had heard that Tama completed Honor training before her father passed. It meant nothing to him at the time, but now, no matter what he did, he knew he was no match for two trained soldiers. They were on him in seconds and despite sheathing her blade, Tama was no less deadly.

  Time blurred as she beat him, the blows bleeding into each other. She started with her fists, pummeling his face and body, occasionally grabbing things like broken chair legs or lengths of rope from around the room to use. Some stung and cut across his skin. Others slapped wide. Most simply hurt without nuance. No matter where he tried to cover, she was able to find purchase elsewhere. His mind shut down eventually as he just laid there and took it.

  Not long after that, Tama finally relented, panting as she caught her own breath. The faint whistle and hiss of the wind through broken bone pierced his ears, mixing with his own labored breathing until they were indistinguishable.

  “Zhatsh enoup por now,” she said, straightening herself out as she walked toward the Honor guarding the door. “Tie him up and shend word to Omapyo. I’ll take my dinner in zhe mashter shuite. We’ll continue apter.”

  Even once she was gone, Lovu couldn’t make his body move. Every inch of him felt swollen and radiated pain. As the Honor hoisted him into one of the dining room chairs, he instinctively groaned and sobbed. Despite his frail condition, the Honor spared no relief. He roughly bound Lovu’s body to every piece of the chair possible, tight enough to almost cut off the circulation in places. As he worked, Yol’s ember emblazoned on his breastplate hovered in Lovu’s vision.

  “Why?” he muttered, barely able to muster enough strength to get the words out.

  “My Lord wills it,” the Honor responded, with no emotion in his voice.

  “What… what will happen to me?”

  “She’ll have her fun with you like she did today. Tomorrow, we’ll start cutting off pieces to send to Ngopeman. Once Sir Vor finds out we have you, we’ll lure him into a trap using you as bait and capture him for Emperor Gongphaha. If you’re still alive by then, she’ll probably finish you off.”

  Hearing his own brutal death laid out so plainly made it difficult to accept as real. If he had been in his right mind, he may have asked who Emperor Gonphaha was or why Akil was in Ngopeman. Instead, his mind latched onto the only thing that felt tangible.

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  “Why Akil?”

  “You don’t know either?” the Honor said, balking for the first time as he finished with the bindings. “The Emperor was insistent on his capture, but I couldn’t tell you why. I assumed that if anyone knew, it’d be you. Oh well.”

  For a moment, Lovu wondered why the Honor was being so candid with him, until the truth set in.

  It doesn’t matter how much they tell me… I’ll be dead before I can do anything with it.

  As the Honor left him alone, Lovu felt a new trickle of warmth run down his cheeks as tears finally came. They flowed into the open scrapes and cuts covering his skin. He suppressed the sounds as much as possible for fear of retribution from the guard, but let his body be wracked with silent sobs that strained his bruised muscles.

  Once the tears ran dry, he was alone in the darkness left by the already set sun. Slumping in the bindings with no energy left to hold himself upright, he muttered a prayer under his breath. He repeated Hikim’s Plea over and over again, but Fam’e felt distant and cold in that place. No matter how many times the words left his mouth, he felt no closer to salvation. Eventually, he lost the energy to even do that.

  Time ticked on without meaning until he heard a faint thud come from the other side of the doors. They creaked open and closed as metal scraped against the floor, followed by the clatter of something being dropped to the ground. As footsteps approached from behind, his breath caught in his throat, as if his silence would protect him like it had against the Yirko.

  Someone grabbed his wrist and he flinched away, but as his eyes looked at his new assailant, he was blessed by a familiar face.

  “Fuck,” Topal whispered as she looked him over. “You look awful.”

  If he hadn’t already spent his tears for the day, he could have easily cried at her presence.

  “I came as soon as I figured out what was going on,” she said, cutting his bindings. “I’m sorry I didn’t put it together before sending you into… this.”

  “Please, get me out of here,” he said, latching onto her arm as if she would disappear the second he let go.

  “That’s the plan,” she said, lifting him to his feet. Despite the brutal beating, Tama luckily hadn’t broken any bones… yet. His entire body radiated pain, making him slow and awkward, but he was barely able to move.

  Lovu’s stomach turned as he saw the Honor who had tied him up laying there in a heap at the end of a smeared red trail leading from the door. That was when he finally noticed the bloodied sword in Topal’s hand. For the first time, he felt immense relief at its presence. Either way, he felt the foreboding threat of further bloodshed awaiting him in the night.

  “How do we get out?” he asked, looking toward the broken windows. “Should we-”

  “Nope, found a better path,” Topal said, guiding him toward the door the Honor had been guarding. “But we have to move fast. No clue when they’ll find the bodies and decide to check on you. We need to make as much distance between us and them as possible.”

  “Lord Foyrilmang said she’d… come back for me after she finished dinner,” he said, his disgust at the thought of her plans overriding any hesitation he had over the implications of Topal’s use of “bodies.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Maybe half an hour ago, can’t be sure.”

  “Fuck… she could be back any second. C’mon.” She gently pushed open the door, peeking her head out before fully leaving the room.

  Following her lead, they stepped back out into the estate’s entry hall. In the darkness of the night, lit only by a handful of candelabras, the dozens of paintings set his skin tingling as their eyes pierced into him. His eyes drifted to the front door that he had entered from, with some semblance of safety on the other side, but felt dread set in as she guided him deeper into the building. They tucked into one of the doors under the grand staircase that led into one of the long side halls that ran the length of the building.

  Topal dragged him past door after door that likely opened into guest rooms and lounges, running with a singular determination that made it clear she knew exactly where she was going. The rotting smell grew sickeningly strong just after entering the hallway, reaching its peak in front of one of the inconspicuous doors. The stench faded as they ran deeper, so Lovu looked back to find the trail of dried blood leading directly to the offending door. He had no idea what lay beyond it and he was happy to never find out.

  There were no candelabras in the hall, so they only had the faint moonlight coming from the high windows lining the wall opposite the doors. They looked out into a small garden built within the courtyard between the estate and its outer walls. The moonlight glistened off of the small pond at its center, reflecting the crescent in the sky above.

  It caught him off guard, as it should have been a nearly full moon, until he realized what it meant – the crescent moon was a sign of Kumam. She was in that space, washing over them. No matter how much it should have unsettled him, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort in knowing that she was – seemingly – on their side.

  Not even halfway down the hallway, his exhaustion finally caught up to him. He stumbled and she slung his arm over her shoulders, practically carrying him as they ran. Just as he had started to keep up with her in the wildlands, he was upset to find himself back in the same helpless position as when they fled Lavote.

  Near the end of the hall, Topal pushed him into one of the doors. It was a small kitchenette, clearly too small and far away from the dining room to serve as the main kitchen. Unlike the hallway, this room was dimly lit with many candles whose light bounced off of the pool of soup gathered on the ground next to an overturned cauldron. Stepping in behind him and closing the door, Topal led him to the hearth.

  Grabbing one of the fire pokers, she ran her fingers along the mortar and lined it up with the intersection of three bricks, then thrust it all the way into the wall. Once it was as deep as possible, she grabbed the handle and twisted. Something deep inside clicked as the back of the fireplace slid to the side, revealing a ladder descending into the darkness. Memories of the sewer flooded back to Lovu, but luckily only stagnant musty air reached his nose.

  “You go down first,” Topal said, pushing his head down as she guided him inside. “I’ll close the door behind us and cover our tracks before-”

  “The Lord gives her compliments, Omafyo. Next time, you should-” a woman wearing Honor armor said as she stepped into the kitchenette holding a tray covered in fine dining ware. Once her eyes settled on them, they stared at each other in stunned silence.

  “Go!” Topal shouted, shoving Lovu the rest of the way into the hearth as she charged at the Honor.

  “He’s escaped!” the Honor shouted down the hall as she dropped the tray unceremoniously and drew her own weapon.

  By that point, his body had long since learned not to freeze up when things went south. He clambered through the small opening, fumbling down the ladder as quickly as his brutalized body would let him. As the sounds of combat above him slowly faded, so did the light.

  Again, he was alone, suspended on a ladder and lost in darkness. By the time his feet touched solid ground covered in a thin layer of water, he could barely hear the echoes from above. He knew he had to keep moving, but he couldn’t help but look up into the darkness.

  Please don’t leave me alone. Not again.

  His silent plea hung in the air for as long as he could bear to let it. When it became clear he couldn’t expect an answer, he steeled his resolve and felt around to get his bearings. The tunnel ended at the ladder, so there was only one way to go. It was barely wide enough to move through comfortably, so he put one hand on each wall and resolved to charge forward into the darkness.

  His first step collided with something firm, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before he could recover, a distant roar echoed from above and a faint light illuminated the tunnel. The brief vision it granted revealed that the thing he tripped over was a mutilated corpse, dressed in fine clothing. Before he could even respond, a shockwave tore through the space.

  Disoriented by ringing ears, he pushed himself to his feet. Just as he was about to turn and continue running, someone dropped down from the ladder fast enough that he thought they had fallen. As they landed firmly on their feet with a burning torch held in their teeth, he felt Fam’e’s warmth in his answered prayer.

  Topal wasted no time, leaping over the dead body, grabbing him by the hand, and dragging him toward freedom.