The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (8 page)

The clap against his shoulder took him by surprise. Blaise blinked at the gray-haired man.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it. Nothing anyone of us could. Still, we were lucky. I don’t envy their fates for interrupting the Emperor’s events today. We’ve much work to do, and many prayers for the dead to recite.”

Blaise frowned and stared into Frolar’s eyes. The man tilted his head. Had the other bishop not noticed that Catsu had escaped with the slave? “Assuming they figure out who did what,” Blaise said with a shrug.

“They’ll find out. One doesn’t deny the will of the Emperor.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

The tunnels branched out into four, with two of them leading upward in different directions. “Shout up if you need me,” Blaise said with a farewell wave to Frolar. Before the man could reply, he hurried to where the ramp curved out of the underground prison complex.

On the ground level, people staggered toward the gate, herded by gray-clad figures with their swords. The stench of their fear made Blaise sneeze.

“You can’t go up there,” a deep voice rumbled, and a hand tapped his shoulder.

Blaise lifted his sleeve without turning to expose the rose-shaped cuff buttons. “I’m with the church. Is there word on the number of injured?”

“No. Wait but a moment. Gavrin! I’m taking this clergyman up top.”

Someone shouted a reply.

“This way,” the soldier said, gesturing to the ramp leading up to the next tier. “My apologies for not recognizing your affiliation. We don’t usually see anyone other than the white coats. Ah, pardon, Bishops. I don’t believe the major will refuse any aid from the church.”

Without replying, Blaise followed the man up to the second tier. A few Citizens braved the rubble strewn over the walkways. The stench of fear, sweat, and death blasted his nose. Blaise lifted his sleeve to his face.

“Major, sir!” the soldier called out. A young man with blond hair touched with hints of red tossed aside a chunk of blackened stone before standing. “This man claims he’s with the church and offers his aid.”

Dark eyes bore into Blaise. “You’re not wearing a coat,” the man shouted up.

“So I’m not, but I’m with the church all the same. Any injured?”

The major frowned. “Those who survived walked away. We’re looking for others now.”

Blaise nodded. “I can help with that.”

Kneeling down, he touched the broken stones. “There are no secrets in a world watched by God,” he whispered.

The voices of past Speakers mingled with the cries of those who lived. One by one, he tuned out the strong, healthy lives around him. The ghosts of the long-dead refused to be ignored, but as though respecting his wishes, they faded to mere whispers in his head. A faltering heartbeat echoed in his ear. He turned his head and pointed in the direction. “There is someone that way.”

Blaise clambered over the rubble, and the stone groaned beneath his weight.

“Careful!” the major barked.

Letting out a huff didn’t ease Blaise’s disgust over the men who stayed off of the balconies in case it collapsed.

It didn’t take him long to find a woman lying with her legs pinned beneath a slab of marble. The remnants of the Speech-wrought destruction manifested as the red and blue lights staining the stone. Blaise scratched his head and considered the problem of the rock; too much force, and he’d hurt or kill the woman, but if he didn’t use enough power, he wouldn’t be able to shift the debris off of her.

He glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers. They stood still, watching him with ill-disguised curiosity. Wrinkling his nose, he turned back to the Citizen, lowering his hand to brush it against where the rock glowed.

Warmth radiated from the stone. As he considered the words to Speak, the red and blue luminescence erupted beneath his hand and the marble shattered to a fine powder. One of her legs twisted at an unnatural angle. He muttered the words to stop her bleeding. The strength flowed out of him, and his muscles quivered.

The woman groaned but didn’t open her eyes. Furrowing his brow, he brushed away the dust from her and felt for her pulse.

“She’s alive,” he announced, easing his hands beneath her shoulders and knee. Taking several deep breaths, he gathered his strength and lifted her up.

“Watch the stairs, they’ve been cracking. Help him! Don’t just stand there gawking, fools! You’ve seen Speech before,” the major barked.

Three cadets rushed to obey, scrambling down to take the woman from him. He sighed out his relief as she was taken from him. The cadets strugged with the woman’s weight, and their faces paled to white as they stared at the blood covering her. Blaise turned back to the rubble, placed his hands against the stone once more, and listened for the injured among the dead and the echoes of the creators of the Arena.

Too many cried out for salvation—too many lived among the wreckage of lightning and fire. It should’ve killed any in its path. He stood and worked his way over the debris, loose stones bouncing to the tier below.

The storm rumbled overhead and its lightning stained the rain and stone red. 

Chapter 4

Pain stabbed through Terin’s fingers and toes, rousing him from sleep. Something cold and wet splashed against his face. It trailed down his cheek and dripped from his jaw. His arms and legs swayed back and forth in a gentle motion.

Someone held his legs behind his knees and kept him from moving. The air reeked of decay and sewage. Terin slammed his elbow against his captor. A man’s voice cried out. The grip on his legs loosened and Terin kicked out, his bare toes digging into flesh.

He tore his nails against bare skin. A curse rewarded Terin’s efforts. His teeth closed on flesh, and the man holding him howled and released him.

Terin landed in icy water with a splash. His hands and forearms submerged first, followed by his head. The rest of him plunged in, sinking into the sluggish current of the sewer. A hand snatched at Terin’s hair and yanked him above the surface. Shudders ran through him, and if it weren’t for the hold on him, he would’ve fallen.

A bare arm slipped around his throat from behind and squeezed, but not so hard he couldn’t breathe. A flexing of muscles warned Terin that he’d choke if he dared to move.

He gagged at the foul taste in his mouth. At first he feared he was blind, then a ripple spread out around him. The sheen of light on water illuminated the outline of sludge-slicked walls. The rancid odor of the sewers struck him hard, suffocating him until tears stung at his eyes and his vision blurred.

“That was foolish.”

With those few words, sound assaulted Terin’s ears, triggering a throb that threatened to shatter his skull into countless pieces. He struggled to pull away from his captor, but his body refused to acknowledge his will.

“Don’t try anything else, boy. It’ll hurt, you’ll lose, and I’ll be angry. Just keep quiet and behave,” his captor said. “I beat you once, and I can do it again.”

Terin tried to make sense of the man’s words, but he couldn’t remember the voice, nor could he remember why he was in the sewers in the first place.

Terin’s master hadn’t ordered him to venture beneath the city. The route to the Citizen’s estate had followed the promenade fringing Upper Erelith City to the decaying steps carved into the cliffs leading to Lower Erelith City.

He didn’t remember leaving his perch beneath the estate while waiting for night to fall.

“Who…?” His question emerged as a croak.

“Don’t recognize me? I suppose our introduction was brief.” The man laughed. “I am Catsu. I’ve you to thank for freeing me from the arena. The least I could do was bring you with me, slave.”

Terin flinched. The memory of wind and sand battering at him roused his awareness of drying scabs, bruises that throbbed in time with the beat of his heart, and the sting of fresh cuts. He writhed and grabbed at the arm wrapped around his throat.

“You should be grateful for the chance at freedom,” the convict muttered. “Up and walk!”

He wasn’t aware of the moment when Catsu’s arm slipped from his throat and seized the back of his neck. With a warning squeeze, Terin was hauled to his feet and shoved forward through the sludge.

“What’s your number?”

Terin struggled to draw a breath to answer, and his collar flared around his throat, driving away the cold from his soaked clothes. “734152.”

“And your name?”

“734152.” The collar’s warmth remained, the promise of punishment strengthening to the brink of real pain.

“I asked for your name,” Catsu growled out.

“That is my name,” Terin whispered. His number was his identity, and the existence of his secret name belonged to his master and no one else. Fear warred with self-loathing until Terin longed for the collar to tire of him and wipe it all away in a wave of agony.

“A born slave, then? Hah. I’ll find some use for you. Who was your master?”

Terin opened his mouth to reply, but he hesitated. The collar cooled, but he knew it was poised to strike him if he dared to speak his master’s name. When the expectant silence grew unbearable, he whispered, “I can’t say.”

“An order? Even more curious. You’re lucky I’m a kind master,” Catsu murmured, his quiet tone chilling Terin more than the sewer water. “Why were you in the Arena?”

At Terin’s silence, the collar’s heat grew until his pained breath hissed through his teeth. He struggled to find words—any—that wouldn’t violate the orders his master had given him.

Catsu’s blunt fingernails dug into his throat beneath the collar. “Answer me!”

“I failed my master,” he whispered, cringing from anticipation of the pain from the collar. It didn’t materialize, but that didn’t stop his legs from quivering.

“Is that all? Fool of a master you had, then, wasting a slave like you in the Arena. Want revenge? I can help you. Wealth? I can provide it. Tell me, slave. Just how valuable are you?”

The man’s grip tightened. Then, the pressure eased and Terin gasped for air, stumbling when he was shoved forward.

“Don’t think you can deny me, slave. I’ve felt your collar’s warmth. At least he knew a little of your worth. Your collar won’t allow you to do anything that will purposefully risk your life. All I have to do is tell you to obey or I’ll kill you, and you’ll have to obey, won’t you?”

Terin trembled from more than the cold of the water soaking him. A hand struck him behind his ear.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” Catsu warned.

The collar’s punishment forced a yelp out of Terin. He jerked his head in a nod.

“What have you been ordered not to answer?”

“Who my master is. What my duty is. Anything other than my number. Anything about my master,” Terin gasped out. The collar cooled, and he shivered at the tingling the punishment left in its wake.

Catsu laughed. “So self-important. Very well. Cooperate, and I won’t demand the answers to those questions.”

When the man said nothing more, Terin focused on forcing his feet to move fast enough to keep from being shoved. He stumbled over his own feet, and without Catsu’s help, he would’ve fallen.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you a pleasure slave with how clumsy you are,” Catsu grumbled. “Walk like you mean it, boy. Still, I shouldn’t complain. I couldn’t have asked for anything better than this. You’ll do nicely.”

Terin flinched at the man’s pleased tone, kept his mouth shut, and tried to walk without stumbling. He weighed the odds of his escape against the strength of the man’s hand on his throat. As though reading his thoughts, Catsu’s grip tightened on him. Being shoved along every step of the way, he splashed through the sewers to a junction in the tunnel.

“Go right.”

Terin obeyed.

“Do you have any questions?” Catsu asked. The grip on his neck eased and the man’s hand slid down to press against Terin’s spine between his shoulders.

Expectant silence spurred the collar to warn Terin again, and he shook his head.

“Well aren’t you the good little slave,” the man muttered. “This is far enough. Out of the water. Ech, so quiet. Even when asked, you don’t have anything to say? Ask me a question, boy.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Terin sucked in a breath when the realization of what he’d asked hit him. It was one of the forbidden questions, one a slave was never to ask. His life and his death belonged to his master, and no one else. Clapping his hands over his mouth didn’t take back his words or quell his fear of rebuke.

“No wonder your master didn’t want to be known,” Catsu muttered. The man shoved him forward a step. “I didn’t because I didn’t want to. That’s all you need to know. Step lively, boy.”

The collar remained inert, and without its warmth, the cold numbed him to everything but the incessant chatter of his teeth and the heat of the man’s hand against his back.

~*~

Terin walked in a daze with Catsu’s ever-present touch anchoring him to consciousness. If the collar tried to warn him of disobedience, the numbness enveloping him smothered its power.

A sliver of light appeared in the wall next to him. Terin scrambled back and sucked in a breath, and Catsu’s arm once again coiled around his throat to keep him in place.

“Enough, slave,” the man growled.

The light illuminated the shape of a door that creaked open. A shimmer played over the sewer wall and revealed a wooden door covering a hole in the stone.

“This wasn’t in the plan,” a deep voice rumbled from beyond the doorway.

Catsu dragged Terin through the door. Heat blasted him in the face as he crossed the threshold, and he recoiled from it, but he couldn’t escape Catsu’s hold on his throat to retreat back into the cold of the sewer.

“You know what they say. Plans change,” Catsu replied.

A Citizen clad in purple pinched his nose, breathed out of his mouth, and shut the door. A streak of soot marred the man’s pale-toned skin while locks of matted, dark blond hair plastered to his broad forehead. “You reek.”

“These are the sewers, Brother. What were you expecting? I’m sorry, it seems I forgot to go roll around in the roses before I came in,” Catsu replied in a mild tone.