Chapter VI

  There wasn’t light in that cold, dungeon cell beneath the Ijirian Citadel. He’d caught a glimpse of a firelamp on the wall when he’d first been deposited there, but it was not lit before the door shut and he was bathed in utter darkness. He was still nude, so the chill reached his bones far easier than it would have otherwise, and since he was not given more healing than was necessary to keep him alive, his body ached and throbbed. His brown hair was matted and greasy, his facial hair had been gradually growing more and more unclean, and the stump of his right arm caused him such agony that he sometimes couldn’t keep a groan from slipping through his lips if he moved wrong.

  He was alive, but at what cost?

  For what reason did he have to keep pressing forward when the only thing left in his future was pain?

  “If you tell me the secret of your lightning magic right now, I can kill you cleanly and painlessly. If you don’t, Markreas will have the information tortured out of you, and you’ll experience pain unlike anything you ever have. Then, when he’s done with you, your execution will be turned into a performance like what he did at the Market and at Ildara… That won’t be painless either.”

  Rickori Keskivaara smiled bitterly as he recalled Ilirianna’s warning. He knew she wasn’t exaggerating, especially given just how much King Markreas loathed him. That madman certainly didn’t like anybody affiliated with the Kosah-Rei, but Keskivaara had been able to sense a particular hatred for him. So if Markreas decided to spare Keskivaara’s life even considering how powerful he was, then he truly wanted to know the secret behind the lightning magic that nearly brought him to his knees. He would do everything in his power to force Keskivaara to cooperate, but even knowing what he was in for, he didn’t regret declining Ilirianna’s offer to provide him a swift and painless death. Even if his life would be over soon, he knew he couldn’t bear the guilt that would come with betraying his master—the man who took him in when he was at his lowest and offered him salvation and answers.

  So I’ll weather whatever Markreas has in store for me… Eventually, he’ll understand that he’s wasting time and resources, then execute me the way I know he wants to…

  Keskivaara had made peace with his fate, so he waited patiently, with only his thoughts for company. As he did, he couldn’t help pondering the end of the Kosah-Rei and what any of it meant in the grander scheme of the world. He was certainly irritated by the fact that, after sacrificing so many of his morals to join them, they sat around doing nothing for three and a half years, only to get themselves nearly wiped out on the dawn of their final operation. He wondered why he didn’t just let Ilirianna finish him off in Stellareid if this was all he would gain from the alliance between himself and Tali.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t.

  Keskivaara had no idea how to feel about Rei’s Voice, especially given that she wasn’t killed in the Battle of Ankalla—something that felt a little too coincidental to have not been orchestrated. Many times did he and Velanor sit and discuss the truth behind her supposed foresight, and never were they able to come to any sort of confident consensus. Was she seeing the future, or was she simply very smart and very lucky? Or perhaps, could both be true? He always felt like he was dancing in her palm, but based on the fates that befell Vesh, Barron, Quill, and Uma, he understood now that they were all puppets of Tali Firrik—puppets that had run out their usefulness and had been tossed aside in favor of some new toys. Yet, Keskivaara was not dead, so what if Tali had a plan to somehow break him free?

  It’s foolishly optimistic, but I suppose it won't hurt to have a little bit of hope. I don’t expect to ever make it out of here, but Firrik’s pulled off the impossible before, so who knows? Am I expendable like the others, or was there more going on than I understand even now?

  The answers hinged on whether she knew about the Battle of Ankalla in advance. Markreas had revealed the existence of a traitor, so maybe Tali was the one who led the Ijirians to their doorstep? Maybe she was fulfilling a vision?

  Am I wasting my energy thinking about this? Does it matter? So many questions, yet I’ve got nothing but time.

  And so he pondered, his thoughts shifting to the now pointless alliance between the Kosah-Rei and Hellistoir. He considered what King Amund Halcrow and Speaker Sarillia Martov might do once they learned of the Kosah-Rei’s end. Given how determined Martov had been when they spoke back in the fortress, Keskivaara wouldn’t have been surprised if she pivoted to some other means of wrestling Harunhein from Ijirian control. It was clearly personal for her, and he regretted not being able to help her like he promised he would.

  I suppose all I can do is pray that the traitor never exposed our alliance with them, or else Markreas might be preparing retribution against the north. Maybe the Kosah-Rei survivors will flee up there and warn them? If Firrik made for Harunhein, I’m sure her foresight could be just as effective in the hands of the Halcrows as it was with the Kosah-Rei… In fact…

  Maybe that was the plan all along? Maybe Firrik was trying to create a safety net—something to fall back to once the cult was gone?

  That seemed quite likely now that it occurred to him, so the best he could hope for was that Velanor somehow met up with Tali and Leiolai, and that the two of them would provide his husband safe passage over the border. After all, he was never told whether or not Velanor had been killed, but he did overhear someone mention that Master Seiras Ka slaughtered everybody who attempted to flee Ankalla underground, which was what Velanor had been helping with. Seiras wouldn’t have recognized him, so it wasn’t impossible that his dear partner was one corpse among many rotting in the tunnels, forgotten and discarded.

  Stop… Don’t think about that… Vel’s alive… He has to be… If he isn’t, then…

  Suddenly, Keskivaara sensed the deactivation of the security charm on his cell door, indicating that somebody had arrived. He weakly raised his head, watching as it was pulled open to admit a blinding red light that caused him to squint with discomfort. He grimaced, noting that it was a little too bright to merely be from the firelamps on the outside walls, so he wasn’t too surprised by the voice that soon spoke to him.

  “Good day, Keskivaara.”

  The People’s Mind smirked irritably. “Master Taurus. Good day to you, too.”

  Chuckling mirthlessly, Nakoma closed the door behind him with his free hand, the other currently holding a small ball of fire that he deposited in the cell’s torch, finally chasing away the overwhelming darkness that had been previously suffocating the room’s prisoner. Keskivaara had never officially met the Master of Fire, though he had seen him from a distance once or twice during the march to Erika. He knew next to nothing about him, but what he did know was worth more than almost anything. According to Tali, he was Ilirianna’s true father—a man who had gone behind the back of his King and had an affair with the Queen, only to try and pass his bastard off as a Princess. It was almost certainly the man’s darkest secret, and a part of Keskivaara wondered if he should take advantage of his knowledge. What would happen if he suddenly put to words what Nakoma would never be prepared to hear leave his mouth?

  The reason he didn’t was because it would probably do more harm than good. At the end of the day, Keskivaara supported Ilirianna’s ascension to the throne, so if he revealed her heritage, then the chances of her succeeding Markreas were slim to none. His vindictive half would have loved to emotionally assault Nakoma, but the logical half stayed his tongue and left him sitting there, waiting for the inevitable pain that would accompany this man’s presence.

  “So, I’m sure you know why you’re still alive, yes?” Nakoma inquired as he leaned his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest.

  Keskivaara shrugged. “Well, I was under the impression Markreas spared me out of the goodness of his heart. Was that a poor assumption?”

  “Unfortunately, it was.” The Master of Fire shook his head. “Your magic. As far as any of us are aware, there is not a single utterance of it in our records. It does not exist despite detailed accounts of the various rumored magics written about between the Age of Ascension and our modern day. I find it hard to believe you are the first person to ever have control over electricity, so you can understand why your power would be concerning to us.”

  “Well of course… It’s only natural, after all. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you it was a mutated ability?”

  “Do not take me for a fool, for a man of science like yourself should know that mana types do not mutate into existence,” Nakoma snapped. “Ijirian research has nearly proved the theory that all forms of mana came into being upon the creation of the universe, so either lightning magic is the most well kept secret ever made…or it originated from a different universe, one where it does exist. What are your thoughts on that?”

  Well, Master Taurus, I can’t say I disagree, he thought to himself.

  That was exactly the theory he’d always run with in regards to his master, who had conveniently refused to ever reveal where he was from or who he was.

  “I’m but a mere wanderer,” the man would say. “It does not matter where I once called my home, nor is it important who I am. Because, Rickori, all that matters is what I want to do, and that’s to make this world a better place—to nurture those who are pure of heart.”

  Keskivaara wasn’t the type to force answers out of people, so despite his frustration at the vague non-answer, he rarely brought the topic up. But in his heart, he knew that man must have been from a different universe, though he couldn’t come close to guessing which one. Omaruo and Hildegan were magicless, Uma once told him that the civilizations of Cansi were wiped out centuries upon centuries ago, and Kaira was only magical because of Ijirian intervention. None of their neighbors were candidates for a mage civilization that could have contained lightning magic, so he could only assume that the man was from a realm beyond their neighbors.

  Though, that brings up a plethora of other questions I cannot begin to answer…

  “Don’t want to respond, do you?” Nakoma growled when Keskivaara continued to sit in silence. “Very well, then let me explain what’s going to happen if you disobey me.” The Master of Fire pushed himself off the door and slowly began to cross the cell towards where the People’s Mind awaited, a small ball of orange fire erupting in his right palm once again. “You’re going to answer every question I pose, or you’re going to suffer. Is that clear, traitor?”

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  Keskivaara smiled challengingly. “Crystal clear, Master Taurus.”

  “Then what is your answer?”

  “Do your worst.”

  For a couple of seconds, Keskivaara and Nakoma stared at each other, the former confident and prepared while the latter just barely failing to conceal his annoyance. However, as irritated as he clearly was, Nakoma was far from surprised, so as an expression of exasperation came over him, the hand holding the fireball suddenly shot outwards and grabbed Keskivaara by the face, bathing him in that horrifically hot flame. It was so quick that he didn’t feel pain at first, as if his brain failed to process the damage that was being done to him, but that delayed reaction was not long before the melting of his skin caused the most terrible agony to flood his body. Keskivaara barely contained the screams, for he did not want to give Nakoma the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, so he clenched his teeth down on his tongue and did everything in his power to contain his reaction.

  He knew he could do it.

  He’d been engulfed in blue fires in Stellareid and still managed to get up, so he could handle this.

  Nakoma would not best him.

  As the fires continued to lick at his face, he felt the Master’s opposite hand press down onto the top of Keskivaara’s skull, a more pleasant warmth emanating from it. But that warmth was severely drowned out by the burning, and even made it far worse. Nakoma was casting Benedio, healing the damage as fast as he was making it, meaning that Keskivaara’s pain receptors kept returning to ensure that he could feel every touch of the fire. He wanted to black out, he wanted it to end so that he wouldn’t have to feel it anymore, but the nature magic kept his brain alert and prevented it from taking any precautions to spare him this suffering.

  And then, the fire turned blue.

  Keskivaara couldn’t contain his scream this time, and as he writhed and shrieked, Nakoma remained stoic. He wasn’t taking any obvious pleasure from this act, rather it seemed like, in the Master’s eyes, it was a mere job he was attending to. Keskivaara was probably within those flames for but a few seconds, yet it felt like hours before Nakoma’s grip on his face loosened and the melting ceased. He couldn’t feel his throat, his mouth, his skin. Everything was suddenly numb, but the memory of that agony made him feel like it was still happening. He couldn’t see, and he wondered if his eyes were even still there.

  “There’s a little taste of what’s in store for you. Have you changed your mind?”

  Keskivaara couldn’t speak, but even though he was utterly terrified of experiencing that again, he not only refused to betray his dear master, but he refused to give in to the intimidation of the Ijirian Empire. His hatred for the King and the Masters was stronger than his aversion to the torture, so he weakly shook his head.

  “Fine then. Round two it is. Infernus.”

  This time, Nakoma didn’t touch him, rather he cast a spell and sent a wave of fire engulfing Keskivaara’s entire body. The burning sensation was everywhere, flooding pain through every inch of him. He lurched around and tried desperately to get out of the way, but the chains binding him to the wall limited his movement and kept him stuck in the inferno. The Master ceased the spell, approached him to heal his wounds, then stepped back and cast it again. It was a testament to Nakoma’s control that he was able to burn Keskivaara so precisely that he never died.

  It was a vile art deserving of twisted respect.

  This process continued on for an uncertain amount of time until, eventually, Nakoma healed him enough that he wouldn’t die, then muttered, “I’ll admit, I’m impressed with your resolve. I’ll return tomorrow, so use tonight to give thought to how long you want to drag this out.”

  Nakoma departed with those final words, but as Keskivaara spent the night slumped against the wall, unable to move and barely able to breath, he didn’t have to think about anything.

  He was never going to concede.

  No matter what Nakoma did to him, he would keep his mouth shut and endure.

  As promised, the Master of Fire eventually returned, asking almost instantly, “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No.”

  Rasping out that single word took more effort than he cared to admit, but it gave him pleasure to deny Nakoma yet again, so he closed his eyes and prepared for the agony to recommence. There were no further words shared between them before Keskivaara was submerged in another casting of Infernus that caused his skin to blacken, his eyes to melt, and all of the receptors on his body to disappear yet again as he found himself drifting on the line between life and death. Nakoma must have done something like this before, because he was very skilled at knowing when Keskivaara was on the cusp of death so that he could heal his body anew and start from scratch. However, this second day was less painful than the first because the People’s Mind knew what to expect from it. That was why he weathered the assault by thinking of only those that he loved.

  He thought of Velanor once again, of the day they met not long after Keskivaara returned to Stellareid with his master’s orders. He had believed that the best way to get Cartigan’s attention would be to form a movement, so he began reaching out to old friends from before his departure, requesting that they aid him in expanding his reach. Velanor Kinrono was one of the first people who accepted his call.

  “I’m sick of watching the people of this city work themselves to death under the command of their slavers,” he had declared. “Mr. Keskivaara, if you truly think you can change things, then it would be my honor to help you do so.”

  Velanor had been one of those workers, a young man who had gotten a job at the Tyria Company and who, Keskivaara eventually found out, had nearly died from overworking himself. His bitterness towards the Company Lords had been personal, but he was fueled not by a hatred for them, rather by a desire to make sure that other people didn’t have to experience what he did. Velanor’s was an honorable motivation, something Keskivaara could see in him right from the beginning. In fact, when Rotana Vesh came knocking on their door, Velanor was one of the only ones who took Keskivaara’s side and insisted it would be a mistake to associate with the butchers of the Kosah-Rei. He never once trusted them, and had anything ever happened to Keskivaara, it wasn’t unlikely that Velanor would have made an attempt to take out Tali or Vesh himself.

  Memories of his time with his husband enabled him to make it to the end of that day, so when Nakoma finally departed the cell in defeat, Keskivaara twisted his charred lips into a smug grin.

  On the third day, some of Keskivaara’s thoughts shifted back to his master, the man who had lifted him up when he’d fallen so low. His mother and father had been his inspirations, and he loved them with all his heart, so when they were murdered by those brigands, he was more lost than he had ever been. For a little while, he remained in his family home, but their absence and the size of the now empty buildings nearly drove him mad, so desperately needing a change in scenery, he fled Stellareid without telling a soul and vanished into the night. For a time, he merely wandered, using his parents’ wealth to survive, and eventually, he found himself in the Great City of Krato down in the deep Ijirian south. It was in a small tavern in the city’s lower districts that the man who would become his master sat down at his table with a charismatic smile and the exact words Keskivaara needed to hear.

  “I can help you.”

  Naturally, that was not what the man led with, but they were the words that Keskivaara remembered the most vividly. For some reason, his master saw potential in him, so he extended a hand and offered him power. He not only trained Keskivaara to be a mage, but he used magic that, to this day, Keskivaara had never heard of to change his cells and enable them to produce a type of mana that did not exist in Ijiria.

  Lightning magic.

  The very thing Nakoma Taurus so furiously wanted him to explain.

  The third day ended with the Master of Fire still a failure, and Keskivaara victorious once again. He would bear it for as long as he needed to, he would suffer and scream and let his body get burnt beyond recognition, but no matter what happened, he would not betray his master.

  “You know, perhaps you’re growing desensitized,” Nakoma grunted upon his arrival on the fourth day. “I suppose anybody can become used to something, no matter how intense it is, so I thought today we’d change things up. Maybe, instead of flooding you with pain, we’ll make it a little more…concentrated.”

  “Do… your… worst…” Keskivaara repeated as Nakoma approached where he sat on the ground, then reached out and gripped his last remaining wrist before taking a moment to gaze at his hand.

  The Master of Fire then retrieved a rather large needle from a small pouch on his belt. “I hope you don’t need your fingernails,” he grunted as he took the point of the needle and placed it right into the small gap between Keskivaara’s pointer nail and his skin.

  Knowing that watching would only make it worse, Keskivaara turned his head and clenched his teeth just as Nakoma drove the needle further inside. He could feel him twisting it in an effort to cause more agony before eventually tearing his nail off completely. Keskivaara couldn't stop a whimper from escaping his lips, frustrating him since it indicated to Nakoma that he was getting to him.

  “Four to go,” Nakoma said softly. “Or, should I use magic to grow them back, as many times as is necessary… Shall I proceed, traitor?”

  God… How satisfying it would be to just throw his lies back in his face. I won’t deny that I'm a traitor, but I find it hypocritical for a man like him to use that word so flippantly. I have, at the very least, been loyal to my allies and friends. Can you say the same, Taurus?

  But like before, his hopes for Ilirianna’s reign kept his mouth shut as Nakoma proceeded to tear out every nail on his remaining hand. Somehow, this smaller amount of pain felt worse in ways than the overwhelming assault of the fire magic. He wondered how long this would go on before Markreas cut his losses and just had Keskivaara killed.

  Death would be far preferable to his current hell.

  Not long after Nakoma departed at the end of the fourth day, Keskivaara heard a voice in his head that he didn’t recognize and considered to quite possibly be a hallucination.

  “Keep fighting, dear Keskivaara. Help will be here shortly.”

  ***

  The trio walked down the muddy road, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them and the cowls pulled over their eyes. It had been raining for the last few days of their trip, and it was one of the most miserable experiences she had ever been through. The cold was eating away at her bones, making it clear that the warmth of summer was fading into the past. They did their best to take shelter where it was feasible, but it didn’t do them a lot of good. That was why, when they saw the looming walls up ahead, there was a collective sense of relief despite none of them speaking a word. It was their destination, the end of this trek south and the place where they could find some warm shelter and good meals. For a while, they’d followed closely behind the extermination party, but once they got within two days of Erika, they were forced to make a detour so they could acquire more food, which meant those that attacked Ankalla would have already long since arrived and settled back down.

  I sure hope we didn’t miss anything, Tali thought with a sense of urgency. Not that I think anything’ll happen without my meddling, but at this point, who knows? My only remaining visions of worth are Liri and I in Noctalus and poor Seiras’s demise, both of which are significantly far into the future, so I’m rather blind for the moment.

  Tali sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the shivering and miserable expressions of Leiolai and Velanor, who had begun to increase their pace now that Erika’s northern gates were within sight. The Voice of Rei smiled at them, though neither returned her cheerful expression, as they walked the rest of the way to where a handful of armored guards stood lingering around the open gates of the city. Due to the Kosah-Rei’s actions, and more specifically Leiolai’s existence, entrance into Erika was no longer as easy as it had been in older times, so these guards would demand documents and proof of identity.

  Or at least, they will until I flash them my little wild card…

  All of the soldiers glanced over and watched their approach with suspicion. Tali took the lead, raising the cowl of her cloak so they could see her smiling, innocent features as she reached into her pocket and held out the badge of the Master of the Mind before any of them could speak or demand any other form of identification.

  “Good afternoon. My friends and I have permission to enter from none other than Master Seiras Ka himself!”

  They all wore helmets, so she couldn’t see the stunned expressions she was certain would be there, but as all of them took turns analyzing the badge and attempting to be absolutely certain that it was authentic, Tali could sense their apprehension. However, there would be a charm on that coin that proved it was real, so despite the hushed discussion and the uncomfortable looks sent Tali’s way, the guards were in no position to deny her, and before she knew it, Tali Firrik was cheerfully marching into the capital city of Erika with Leiolai and Velanor trailing behind.

  Well then… That was easy.