ONE
Caelan Talos
I don’t understand why you don’t just break some bones.
You’re underestimating the kind of terror that can be instilled with only a bucket of water.
Why have the old ways gone out of style? Flaying is still and always will be the answer.
True, the screams would echo so nicely off these walls.
The gods were arguing again. Caelan rubbed his temple with one hand, trying to push away the ache that was growing stronger.
He’d gotten good at ignoring them for the most part, but when they decided to conduct their own conversation with or without him, it was headache inducing. It was bad enough having Kaes and Tula grumbling in his head, but now that he’d bonded with Nyx, they’d become even chattier.
Though Nyx was the quietest of them, Caelan could still sense his emotions, particularly irritation and wry amusement.
This time, they’d decided they wanted to provide input on how Caelan dealt with captured New Rosanthe spies. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t the first batch of spies he’d interrogated in the past month since returning to Stormbreak. The gods were apparently feeling bored and restless, which was never a good combination.
Of course, “interrogation” wasn’t quite the right word. Caelan stepped up to the final New Rosanthe soldier. There were two women and one man who’d been captured in the latest roundup within the capital. All three were still dressed in the colorful garb of the locals—the youngest of them even wearing a university sweat shirt as if he were trying to pass for a student. They all looked horribly out of place in the dungeon of the old Armory. The stone walls had been built centuries ago, and thanks to the Armory’s close proximity to the docks, the walls seemed perpetually damp.
Everything about the place was old and drafty. And, of course, none of it had improved with the attack by New Rosanthe.
But these spies didn’t deserve the creature comforts of life. It had taken the tiniest dip into their minds using the power he’d acquired from the Goddess of Life to see that they all served in the New Rosanthe military and had been sent by the emperor to undermine confidence in King Caelan and glean what information they could about the movements of the king.
Caelan dropped his hand from his temple and stretched it out toward the man with long, dirty brown hair and dull brown eyes. Everything about his features was bland and unremarkable, the perfect spy. He could move within a crowd, and no one would remember a thing about him.
And now, he wouldn’t remember a thing about his time in Erya.
The goddess’s gift slipped into the spy’s mind, washing through his brain and scrubbing clean every memory he ever had about stepping foot within Erya’s borders. He wouldn’t remember being in Stormbreak, the people he spoke to, or being captured by the guards. He wouldn’t recall setting eyes on the King of Erya.
But more than that, Caelan dug deep into the darkest places of the man’s mind, beyond the shadows and grimmest memories. There, he planted commands.
Kill the Emperor of New Rosanthe.
Kill the leader of the New Rosanthe navy.
Kill the head of the New Rosanthe army.
For every Empire spy they captured, Caelan sent back a weapon. By his count, this lot would make an even two dozen he’d tinkered with. They would return to their posts, report to their commanders, and be disseminated throughout the various ranks. Each was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
He wasn’t sure any of them would succeed, but if just a few managed to successfully strike, it might be enough to throw the New Rosanthe military into disarray for a while, relieving pressure on Erya, Caspagir, and Ilon.
Unfortunately, his interrogations failed to turn up any information about the Empire’s plans for the godstones or their next plans for attack. These spies were kept outside the emperor’s grand schemes, given tasks to gather facts, and sent on their way.
And while he hated to admit it, Caelan was also disappointed to find that none of them had any news on Drayce.
Three months…
Three months had passed since Drayce, wrapped in black dragon scale, had roared and disappeared into the smoke and clouds hanging over Mrtyu and Mount Langbo. Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he returned to them on the mountain? Or at least met them in Stormbreak or Sirelis?
Caelan violently shoved those questions aside. His own rage and bitter frustration threatened to choke him. There were no answers to those questions. Not in Stormbreak and not in the minds of New Rosanthe spies. Rayne was confident they would find Drayce and his answers on the Isle of Stone, the home of the dragons. Caelan was too tired to hope.
With the command seed planted and the last spy’s memory wiped, Caelan lowered his trembling hand to his side and turned away from the heavily shackled trio kneeling on the old stone floor.