interesting, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. We want to know where Muzien sleeps, Ridley, and when.”
“He’s an elf,” Ridley said. “He doesn’t sleep.”
“He does, maybe not longer than a few hours, but I know he sleeps. Tell me where, Ridley, if you want us to remain on friendly terms.”
At the word
friendly
Ridley let out a short laugh, and something about the resignation in the man’s voice made Haern’s stomach uneasy.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Thren shook his head.
“Well,” he said, “it looks like we may get to have some fun after all.”
Before Ridley could react, Thren took the dagger, grabbed Ridley’s jaw with his free hand to hold him still, and then carefully slid the dagger into the man’s left eye. Ridley’s entire body went rigid, his teeth clenched tight as he breathed in and out using quick, shallow gasps. He tried to shut his eyes, but that pressed his eyelids against the sharpened edges of the dagger, forcing him to leave it open, blood and tears dripping down the side of his face.
“I’m going to make this very clear,” Thren said as he slowly twisted the dagger by the handle, rotating it back and forth by nearly imperceptible degrees. “The more I move this dagger, the more you’ll feel the muscle and tendons holding your eye in place start to tear. Trust me when I say this will hurt very, very much. If you lie to me, I’ll keep going until I finally rip the whole bloody thing out down to the stem. Tell me the truth, and answer my questions without any games or deception, and I’ll push the dagger in instead. The blade will go into your brain, and you’ll be free from this life and move on to whatever follows. Have I made myself clear?”
Ridley’s entire body had begun to shake, and he fought it with admirable control.
“Yes,” the man said, trying hard not to move his head when he spoke.
“Very well. Let’s try again, shall we? Where does Muzien sleep?”
“I don’t know.”
Thren rotated the dagger ninety degrees. As Ridley screamed, Haern fought down his repulsion.
What must be done
, he told himself, though it was now harder to believe. This time, the specter of Delysia hovering over him wasn’t disappointed. It was furious.
“No lies, remember?” Thren said. Despite Ridley’s screams of pain, Thren sounded calm, almost bored. “You’re his second-in-command here in Veldaren, are you not?”
“Yes!”
“He trusts you more than anyone else in the Sun Guild, yes?”
“I … yes, yes he does.”
Thren rotated the dagger ninety degrees in the opposite direction, bringing the eye back to its original position.
“Then answer me,” Thren said. “Where does Muzien go to sleep? Where is he when he’s most vulnerable?”
“I … don’t … know!” Ridley screamed.
“Damn it, Thren, enough,” Haern said, grabbing his father by the shoulder. Thren pulled free, and he glared until Haern stepped away.
“You both disappoint me,” Thren said as he pulled back the dagger. The eye came with it, accompanied by a burst of blood and an audible pop. Ridley screamed, and now free of the dagger, he jerked back his head, clenching both eyelids shut. Blood and tears continued to weep. Haern watched, torn between his desire to learn what he needed to save his city, and the sheer gruesomeness of the torture the man endured.
Rabid dog
, he told himself again and again, but it no longer carried the same strength.
“You fools,” Ridley said in between his gasps of pain. “I might be his second-in-command, but that means shit to someone like him. Muzien doesn’t trust
anyone
. No one knows where he goes at night to rest. We don’t know his routine. We don’t know when he’ll come to us with orders. You think he’s lived as long as he has by being
predictable
? By being
trusting
? For fuck’s sake, aren’t you two supposed to be the greatest threat that’s left to fight him? Then the city’s his. Just give up already. You
“He’s an elf,” Ridley said. “He doesn’t sleep.”
“He does, maybe not longer than a few hours, but I know he sleeps. Tell me where, Ridley, if you want us to remain on friendly terms.”
At the word
friendly
Ridley let out a short laugh, and something about the resignation in the man’s voice made Haern’s stomach uneasy.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Thren shook his head.
“Well,” he said, “it looks like we may get to have some fun after all.”
Before Ridley could react, Thren took the dagger, grabbed Ridley’s jaw with his free hand to hold him still, and then carefully slid the dagger into the man’s left eye. Ridley’s entire body went rigid, his teeth clenched tight as he breathed in and out using quick, shallow gasps. He tried to shut his eyes, but that pressed his eyelids against the sharpened edges of the dagger, forcing him to leave it open, blood and tears dripping down the side of his face.
“I’m going to make this very clear,” Thren said as he slowly twisted the dagger by the handle, rotating it back and forth by nearly imperceptible degrees. “The more I move this dagger, the more you’ll feel the muscle and tendons holding your eye in place start to tear. Trust me when I say this will hurt very, very much. If you lie to me, I’ll keep going until I finally rip the whole bloody thing out down to the stem. Tell me the truth, and answer my questions without any games or deception, and I’ll push the dagger in instead. The blade will go into your brain, and you’ll be free from this life and move on to whatever follows. Have I made myself clear?”
Ridley’s entire body had begun to shake, and he fought it with admirable control.
“Yes,” the man said, trying hard not to move his head when he spoke.
“Very well. Let’s try again, shall we? Where does Muzien sleep?”
“I don’t know.”
Thren rotated the dagger ninety degrees. As Ridley screamed, Haern fought down his repulsion.
What must be done
, he told himself, though it was now harder to believe. This time, the specter of Delysia hovering over him wasn’t disappointed. It was furious.
“No lies, remember?” Thren said. Despite Ridley’s screams of pain, Thren sounded calm, almost bored. “You’re his second-in-command here in Veldaren, are you not?”
“Yes!”
“He trusts you more than anyone else in the Sun Guild, yes?”
“I … yes, yes he does.”
Thren rotated the dagger ninety degrees in the opposite direction, bringing the eye back to its original position.
“Then answer me,” Thren said. “Where does Muzien go to sleep? Where is he when he’s most vulnerable?”
“I … don’t … know!” Ridley screamed.
“Damn it, Thren, enough,” Haern said, grabbing his father by the shoulder. Thren pulled free, and he glared until Haern stepped away.
“You both disappoint me,” Thren said as he pulled back the dagger. The eye came with it, accompanied by a burst of blood and an audible pop. Ridley screamed, and now free of the dagger, he jerked back his head, clenching both eyelids shut. Blood and tears continued to weep. Haern watched, torn between his desire to learn what he needed to save his city, and the sheer gruesomeness of the torture the man endured.
Rabid dog
, he told himself again and again, but it no longer carried the same strength.
“You fools,” Ridley said in between his gasps of pain. “I might be his second-in-command, but that means shit to someone like him. Muzien doesn’t trust
anyone
. No one knows where he goes at night to rest. We don’t know his routine. We don’t know when he’ll come to us with orders. You think he’s lived as long as he has by being
predictable
? By being
trusting
? For fuck’s sake, aren’t you two supposed to be the greatest threat that’s left to fight him? Then the city’s his. Just give up already. You
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