Whatever they were going to do to him, no matter how loud they made him scream, the sounds would be lost in the other terrible noises shattering the night.
The rain had stopped, and Miro wished it would come back, for now against the ensuing silence he could hear the moans of anguish and cries of terror. A woman called out a man's name, again and again, her torment evident in every shrieking syllable. A wailing man couldn't be understood at all, his pain so great all he could do was scream. Sobbing children and tortured howls came all directions, so that Miro wondered at the inhumanity of it all.
The waiting hours filled Miro with suffering enough for a lifetime, for with every cry he was reminded of Sentar Scythran's promise regarding Amber.
There was a regular rhythm to some of the horrific sounds of the night. A scream would be cut off by a wet crunching sound. A chorus of fear would follow, and the cycle would repeat.
Feeling sickness and fear mingle in equal quantities, Miro realised what it was he was hearing.
They had put the prisoners into a queue. One would be killed, screaming as they saw the death blow coming, and the other prisoners' voices would rise in cries of horror as they saw the fate that awaited them and their loved ones. The queue marched forward, and the next man, woman, or child would die.
"Lord of the Sky, help us," Miro whispered.
Sentar had promised to make Amber's death more painful than that of the other prisoners. What would he do to her?
Even imagining her beautiful skin marred in the smallest degree filled Miro with hate and rage. He didn't care that Sentar had said Amber would be the one to kill him, as much as he wanted to spare himself the sight of his wife brought back in revenant form. He cared that when she died she would be in pain, and her last thoughts would be a desperate longing to go home.
Miro hated himself then. Amber hadn't chosen to join him on this foolish quest, and knowing she was distraught beyond belief, he hadn't known how to treat her. He should have taken her back to Castlemere, regardless of the delay.
Someone entered the tent. The pain would begin now.
Miro felt a presence move slowly towards him, and then a face came down to stare into his eyes. He looked into the remorseless stare of the Lord of the Night.
"Your woman is still alive, for now," were Sentar's first words.
"Don't hurt her," Miro said, swallowing his pride.
"Can you hear the slaughter line?" Sentar asked. "Can you hear the beautiful music of my revenge on the human race? If you answer my questions truthfully, and I consider that you are forthcoming with your responses, your woman may join that line. Trust me. It is better than the other fate I can give her. When humans displease me I go to… extra lengths… to ensure their last hours are as pain-filled as possible."
"Despot tactics," Miro gasped. "You're no god."
"Ah, you'll be an interesting one to work with," said Sentar. "I can tell you'll do anything to spare your woman, but there's a stiff backbone in there. Which will it be? Will you choose to divulge, or will you let me go to work on your pain centres, and make you listen as I flay your woman?"
Miro gulped. His breath came in heaves.
"Yes, you heard me. I'm quite an artist. When I flay a human, I do so cleanly, so that I eventually remove the skin in one piece. I can flay your woman just outside, so you will only be able to hear the screams and imagine what I am doing to her. You'll hear her last gasp as she dies, and then do you know what I'll do? I'll bring her back with no skin, and that's when I'll lead her in here and show her to you. She'll be my only skinless revenant."
"What do you want to know?"
Sentar's face drew back, so that Miro could only stare at the ceiling and wonder where his tormenter was. "Where are you from?"
"Across the sea, in the east."
Miro's heightened senses told him there was a sudden swift movement in the area of his chest. He tensed his stomach muscles, but nothing could have prepared him for the blow that struck the area under his ribs.
The breath left him with a whoosh and for a moment Miro couldn't think, had no comprehension of where he was, could only focus on the pain, his mind begging without hope for it to end.
Some time later awareness returned to him and he realised he was coughing and wheezing. Sentar's strength wasn't natural, and the sadistic Lord of the Night evidently took pleasure in the pain he dealt out to the race he despised.
"I told you I want you to be forthcoming in your responses. Now, let me try again. Where are you from?"
"I'm from Altura, the land of enchanters."