Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) (32 page)

KERRICK

The soldiers had been quick to cuff Kerrick’s wrists behind his back. They’d done the same to Flea, the monkeys, and Belen. Poppa Bear met Kerrick’s gaze, giving him a silent signal with his bushy eyebrows before being escorted away. Kerrick passed the information on to the others before they were all separated.

Belen’s eyebrows had warned them he planned to cause trouble tomorrow night. Kerrick hoped a day’s worth of rest would give him the energy to take advantage of the ruckus.

As his guards led him to a small tent, Kerrick focused on the effort needed to walk. Everything ached and fatigue dragged at his body as if he wore a blanket of chain mail around his shoulders. When they swept aside the flaps, Kerrick merely ducked inside and collapsed on the ground, not caring the men had taken positions blocking the entrance. He’d deal with them when the time came.

He slept all afternoon, rousing only for a meal, but even then he had to force the food down, hoping it would provide a bit of energy. It didn’t.

The living green called to him.

Time for quiet.

Time for rest.

Time to sleep.

Time to wait.

Kerrick fought the summons. He would not go...dormant. Gathering the remaining bits of his magic, he pushed against the living green’s command. And to think he’d complained about not being able to leave the forest. Compared to this, he’d gladly go back to those early fall days.

Memories of lying in the colorful leaves with Avry swirled. He concentrated on her. She needed him. Sepp and Wynn had been neutralized, but Tohon, Cellina, and the Skeleton King had to be stopped.

He doubled his efforts to wake up. Opening his eyes, Kerrick scanned the tent. Nothing had changed, except he’d depleted all his magic.

With nothing left, he could no longer resist the call and break free of the darkness. The living green welcomed him as he nestled in deeper. He’d wake...later.

CHAPTER 20

The Skeleton King smiled, revealing brown teeth that had been sharpened into points. The crown of bones rested on a nest of messy black and gray hair. Light green eyes studied me from a pale, gaunt face. Fear ignited in my chest. Heat flashed over my skin as sweat beaded.

“Such a fuss over you,” the Skeleton King said, moving closer. “Sepp is dead and Wynn is frozen. Such a surprise.”

A rancid odor filled the space between us. I suppressed the urge to gag. He reached for my hair with thick skeletal fingers—his hands the only part of him not protected by his bone armor. Revulsion coated my throat with bile. Stepping back, I bumped into one of my guards. She grabbed my shoulders, anchoring me in place.

The king stroked my cheek; I batted his arm away. His smile faded as he gazed behind me, tilting his head a fraction.

The guards pushed me against the big center post and yanked my arms up. In a heartbeat, they had secured the manacle’s chain to a hook above my head. I stood on tiptoe. The other officers in the tent exchanged queasy glances. Not good.

He pulled a knife with a bone handle from his belt. “This will be simple. I have questions. You have answers. Play nice and you’ll be able to walk back to your tent.”

My gaze jumped from the weapon to him. He was at least six inches taller than me. A crazed gleam lit his eyes. “And if I don’t?”

“You’ll be dinner.” The Skeleton King flashed his sharp teeth, exposing black gums.

Just when I thought no one could possibly be worse than Tohon, here stood the Skeleton King to prove me wrong.

“First question. Who froze Wynn?”

Oh, no. I wouldn’t endanger Flea. “Sepp did before we killed him.”

“Wrong answer.”

I braced as his knife slashed toward my left arm. But no pain burned. Instead, ripping fabric sounded. The Skeleton King had cut away the sleeve of my shirt, exposing my skin. He leaned forward and bit my forearm.

I gasped with surprise. His teeth sank into my skin, stopping only when he reached bone. Pain shot up my arm along with nausea. He sucked the blood, slurping as if enjoying a juicy steak. My stomach churned and every inch of me shuddered with revulsion.

Releasing my arm, he licked his lips. “You taste like vanilla and anise. Yum. Who froze Wynn?”

When I refused to answer, he bit me again. This time near my elbow. Unable to contain the horror over such a vile act, I yelled. And I continued to shriek as he kept asking and I kept refusing to answer. Each bite increased my terror.

A small part of my mind viewed his torture logically. It was just pain. Nothing else. However, the rest of my senses scattered in a primal panic, and I knew I’d cave in eventually.

After the Skeleton King finished my left arm, he started on the right. When he reached my shoulder, I shouted in desperation, “Ask me another question.”

He paused. My blood stained the chest of his bone armor. “Can you kill Tohon like Wynn claimed?”

An easy one. “No. He knows all my tricks.”

“Correct. How do you stop his dead soldiers?”

Was this another test? “With Death Lily toxin.”

He squinted at me as if trying to read my thoughts. “And only you can harvest this toxin?”

“Yes.”

“Will you harvest it for me?”

“No.”

“Why not? I will stop the dead. Good for all.”

“But you can also use it against us.”

“What if I promised not to?”

I coughed out a laugh. “I trust you about as much as I trust Tohon.”

“No need to worry about Tohon. His days as king are nearing the end.”

Doubtful. But I kept that thought to myself. No need to upset the psychopath.

“Next question. Where is Prince Ryne?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.” He sliced my shirt, ripping right through the buttons. Tugging my undershirt away from my skin, he rested the knife on the collar.

A vision of the bite marks on Private Tori’s breasts flashed in my mind. “In the north,” I blurted. “He went north. I don’t know where.”

The Skeleton King smiled. “Chasing Cellina’s skirt. Good. Now, back to the first question. Which one of your five friends is the death magician?”

“Uh, sire?” one of the officers interrupted. “It won’t be difficult to determine that on our own.”

“Difficult, no, but not as much fun.” In one swift movement, he pulled the blade through my undershirt. The Skeleton King cupped my right breast. “Last chance.”

Determined not to expose Flea, I closed my eyes and concentrated on an image of Flea shooting me one of his lopsided grins. Agony from the first bite shattered the vision. All the others that followed erased every last piece. My throat burned from screaming as my skin crawled. I pressed against the wooden post and twisted, but was unable to escape the torture.

The torment stopped...sometime. Pain pulsed throughout my chest, stomach, and arms. My body felt like a chew toy for an ufa.

Having no desire to see the damage, I kept my eyes squeezed shut. Whispers sounded and a rustling of footsteps. Dizzy from blood loss, I drew in deep breaths. Waiting for the next attack proved difficult. To keep sane, I debated if this had been worse than when Tohon had zapped me with his magic. I decided that while the pain was equal, the whole biting thing made this intolerable. Who would have thought I’d miss Tohon? Not me.

Time passed without another question. Perhaps he’d given up.

Harsh voices, boots scuffing the dirt, and a rattle of chain snapped me from my daze. The flaps of the tent snapped and then grunts followed a growl.

Belen.

I peeked through slitted eyelids, glancing over my shoulder. Sure enough, Belen stood in the middle of six guards—three on each side. His hands had been manacled behind his back.

“What the hell! Are you all right, Avry?” Belen asked.

“She’s fine,” the Skeleton King answered. “I just had a taste.”

I shuddered at his possessive tone.

“I wasn’t talking to you, you filthy cannibal.”

The king strode to Belen. “You have no right to judge. I’d like to see what you’d resort to to keep your family from starving to death.”

“Everyone was hungry after the plague and they all managed without becoming cannibals.”

So the Skeleton King was an actual cannibal. It explained...a lot.

“Managed? You call dying by the thousands managing?”

Belen just shook his head. “Avry, are you all right?”

“I’m—” what to say that wasn’t a lie? “—here.”

“What did you do to her?” Belen demanded.

“She did it to herself. She refused to answer a question. Maybe we’ll have better luck with you.”

I met Belen’s gaze. “Don’t.”

“Who is the death magician?” the Skeleton King asked Belen.

“Me,” Belen said without hesitation.

“Prove it.”

“Okay, take off these cuffs.”

The king’s cackle set my nerves on edge.

“I have a better idea.” He rummaged in a pack on the conference table and withdrew a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

I sagged against the post. He was going to threaten to infect Belen with the new plague and I’d have to decide between him and Flea.

Sure enough, the king held up the syringe in front of my face. “Sepp claimed he was immune. Do you want to test his theory?”

I tried delaying the inevitable. “Did you get that from Wynn?”

“Yes. Her sister was too squeamish to use it against her enemies. Wynn was smart to bring it to me.”

“And you’ve been busy using it to send a message to Prince Ryne.”

“Exactly. He needs to know who is going to be in charge. Plus it’s a good idea to mark the victims. I wouldn’t want my people to accidentally eat an infected person. That wouldn’t do.” He waggled the syringe. “Now, about that test—”

Belen roared. The guards shouted as Poppa Bear charged. The Skeleton King backed up, holding the needle out like a weapon. But the king wasn’t his target.

Instead, Belen dipped his head and rammed into the wooden post with his shoulder. The impact rattled my teeth. The post creaked and leaned. Belen grunted, digging into the dirt. With a crack, the post fell over, dragging me and the tent fabric with it. The material collapsed on top of everyone.

My manacles popped free of the hook when I slammed to the ground. Belen landed next to me. The rest of the occupants were obscured by the olive-green fabric, which muffled their shouts and curses.

“Don’t stand,” he said to me. “Roll until you’re clear.”

“And then what?”

“Run.”

At least the plan was easy to follow. I rolled to the right until I reached the conference table. It remained upright and underneath was the syringe. Unbroken. I palmed it, careful not to prick my skin even though I was immune.

A few guards regained their feet and yanked the fabric up, exposing my hiding place. Right as I resumed rolling, a pair of black boots with scapulas stitched on them blocked my path. I stopped and stared at the boots to keep from panicking. The flat triangular shoulder bones worked well as shin guards, reminding me of Tohon’s comment about using all your resources.

“Going somewhere?” the Skeleton King asked.

I glanced around. More pairs of boots surrounded the king. At least Belen had escaped for now.

“Not anymore.” I pressed my arms to my chest, covering my raw and bleeding flesh. The thought of being tortured again almost pushed me over the edge.

“Get up,” he ordered.

And then I remembered. “I need help.”

When he reached under to clasp my hand, I jabbed the syringe’s needle into his palm at the same time as I grabbed his wrist with my other hand. He tried to jerk back, but I held on tight and depressed the plunger, sending the plague into his body.

He screamed and dragged me out from under the table. I released him as the guards pulled their swords while still keeping the fabric off the Skeleton King’s head. Impressive.

The king yanked the needle from his hand and slammed his palm down on the conference table. “Cut my hand off at the wrist,” he ordered. “Now!”

Smart. Too bad his confused guards didn’t catch on. They hesitated over his alarming request, allowing the plague to spread up his right arm.

The Skeleton King snatched a sword from one of his men.

“Elbow by now,” I said.

The king swung the blade down on his elbow. With the awkward angle and limited range of motion, he didn’t have enough force to sever the arm. All he managed was a nasty gash.

Frantic, he pushed the sword back into the guard’s hands. “Cut my arm off at the shoulder or I’ll die.” He knelt next to the conference table and stretched his arm across the top.

Finally catching on, the guard brought the weapon down on the king’s shoulder. An awful scraping noise and a loud crack sounded. However, the king’s arm remained in place.

“Wow, that bone armor really works,” I said.

He stood to pull off his chest protector.

I shook my head. “Too late.”

When he rounded on me, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. The Skeleton King seized my upper arms and yanked me to my feet.

He leaned forward, his nose almost touching mine. “I’m. Going. To. Eat. You. Alive.” He bared his teeth. “I’ve learned so much. You’ll linger for days before I stop your heart.”

This time I clamped my lips together. No need to remind him that he might not be feeling well in a few days. Although, he might have ingested enough of my blood to protect him from the plague. Unless the acid in his stomach destroyed it. If I survived this, I’d have to experiment. Big if.

The soldiers who had been stationed outside the tent finally cleared off the fabric. Sunlight and fresh air flooded the area. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust. The sun hung low in the west. Had the torture only lasted an afternoon? It had felt like days.

Another soldier ran up. “Sire, we are under attack!”

The Skeleton King glanced at the man in surprise. “Tohon’s soldiers?”

“No, sire.”

“Dead soldiers?”

“No, it’s an army of women, sire.”

Now I was surprised. I’d thought Fydelia’s troops had gone north with Ryne. He’d lied to me again, but I was too happy to be upset.

The king shoved me toward his guards. “Take her back to her tent. Watch her very closely.”

“Yes, sire,” they said in unison.

As they towed me through the camp, I scanned the woods, looking for Belen and the others while also seeking signs of the attack. Nothing except the Skeleton King’s men rushing off to the southeast—the makings of a perfect distraction.

Hunching inward, I slowed my steps.

“Come on.” The guard on my right tightened his grip.

I hissed in pain, because it hurt like hell.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll heal,” he said.

I’d do more than that, I promised, but kept that to myself. After we entered the tent, I rummaged in my pack for my other shirt. Huddled on the ground, I acted pathetic, fumbling at the buttons while trying to keep the tattered, blood-soaked remains of my shirt over my breasts.

Finally, I huffed in defeat and stared up at the guards with, what I’d hoped, was a helpless expression. “Can you take these off for a moment so I can change?” I stood, holding out my arms. “Please?”

The guards exchanged a look. The one on the left shrugged. When he approached, he said, “Make it quick.” He unlocked the manacles and removed the heavy metal cuffs.

“Oh, my,” I said, swooning. I clutched his arm. “I think...I’m going...to...”

He automatically stepped closer to support me. I rubbed my free hand on my chest and coated my fingers with blood. I waved them in front of the guard’s face.

“Look at this!” I shrieked as I slid my grip up his arm and to the back of his head.

One shot only. Better not miss.

I touched his neck and zapped him, rendering him unconscious. He keeled forward.

“He fainted,” I cried. I knelt next to him, rolled him over, and fanned his face.

“Move away from him,” his friend ordered, keeping the guard between us.

I backed up as the soldier checked his pulse.

“Come on, Trey, it’s just a little blood,” he said.

Relief eased my racing heart a fraction—he didn’t know about my full abilities.