She was cold, and he wished he had a jacket to keep her warm. Instead, he pressed his side against her and they huddled for warmth as their wet clothes sapped the last of the heat from their bodies. The dim glow of sunlight from the crack beyond looked so inviting.…
“Right,” Sergeant Caulder said, breaking the silence. “I think it’s safe to take this off now.”
Arcturus turned to see the sergeant tearing away the gag from his own rebel—the same one who had tried to disembowel Rotter with his makeshift spear, and who had been pretending to be unconscious earlier.
“What’s your name, son?”
The rebel took a deep breath, then spat in the sergeant’s face.
“You little…,” Rotter growled, lunging for the rebel, but Sergeant Caulder held up his hand.
“Full of vim and vinegar, aren’t ye?” Sergeant Caulder growled, wiping his brow. “No need for any unpleasantness. You just tell us what your friends are after, and Prince Harold over there will put in a good word with his father when we’re rescued. Maybe you’ll avoid execution, eh?”
“Ye don’t have the guts to kill me,” the man yelled, struggling against his bonds. “Ye would’ve done it already.… I won’t tell ye a thing.”
“Just give me a few minutes with him,” Rotter growled. He was holding the cleaver from the other rebel, twirling it in his hand. Arcturus gulped—surprised at the sudden change in the happy-go-lucky soldier.
“I don’t think…,” Edmund began, but Sergeant Caulder held up a hand.
“Ask the other one first,” Sergeant Caulder said, his voice low and dangerous. “Maybe he’ll be more obliging.”
He left the spitting rebel wriggling on the ground and snatched the other trussed-up captive’s feet.
“What do you reckon, Rotter?” Sergeant Caulder asked. “Do you reckon he’ll talk?”
“Oh, he’ll talk,” Rotter said, licking the back of the cleaver with an evil look in his eye. “They always do.…”
With that, the pair dragged the other rebel into the darkness of the tunnel, rolling him down until all Arcturus could hear was the frantic moaning from their captive, his attempted screams muffled by the gag.
“Dominic … Dominic!” the rebel near Arcturus yelled. “Leave ’im alone, you monsters.”
“Let’s take this off,” Arcturus heard Rotter say.
“Help me!” bellowed a voice. “Hel—”
The voice was cut short. Then … a bloodcurdling scream, one of a man suffering unimaginable pain. It tore at Arcturus’s heart, but he could not bring himself to put a stop to it.
“Stop,” Elaine cried. “Stop it!”
“I say, that’s enough now,” Edmund called out.
But they went on. Behind him, Arcturus heard Zacharias retch, the sound of liquid splattering on the stone. The acrid stench of vomit filled the air.
“Who do you work for?” Sergeant Caulder barked.
Another scream, higher pitched than the last. It went on and on, so long that Arcturus thought the rebel’s lungs would burst.
“Give him some more encouragement,” Sergeant Caulder yelled. “Again!”
But there were no more screams now, just a raw, throaty sobbing, punctuated by the occasional animal yelp of pain.
Arcturus turned to look at Edmund; the boy seemed frozen in place, his face white as a sheet in the ethereal blue glow of the wyrdlights.
“He’s not going to talk,” Sergeant Caulder said. “Put him out of his misery.”
Arcturus heard a final, desperate yell … that swiftly devolved into a terrible, spluttering gurgle. Finally, silence reigned once more, but for the dripping of the water and the horrified breathing of the nobles.
He felt sick. He had respected the two soldiers. But … they were monsters. Worse than monsters—they seemed to enjoy the torture they had inflicted upon the poor man.
Sergeant Caulder reappeared, climbing back out of the darkness. There was blood on his hands, and even a stain on his forehead where he had gone to wipe his brow. He tugged the red-stained cleaver from his belt, and put it against the remaining rebel’s throat.
“What’s your name?” Sergeant Caulder said, hunkering down beside the man.
“Tim,” the rebel stuttered, his eyes glazed over with fear.
“Who are you?”
“I … nobody. I’m just a shoemaker. I went to a few meetins, down the pub. Complainin’ about the king and the like. His damned taxes were killin’ me business, ye know? They said to wear a black hood, come by one night, armed. I thought it was gonna be another riot. But then they put us on a bunch o’ carriages, said we were gonna change things. I didn’t have anythin’ to lose.…”
Arcturus’s heart twisted. This rebel was no soldier. He was just a desperate man, pushed to breaking point.
“Who’s ‘they’?” Sergeant Caulder snarled, digging in the edge of the blade.
“I don’t know, I swear it,” Tim cried, trying to squirm away. “They always hid their faces. But they came up from the south, I saw ’em arrive one night.”
Vocans. Vocans was to the south. Arcturus knew for sure then. Crawley was involved.
“That doesn’t help us,” Sergeant Caulder growled. “Give me something useful.”
“They’re after the common boy!” Tim said frantically, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with terror. “Him and Prince Harold. The rest of you were just a bonus.”
Cold fear pooled in the base of Arcturus’s stomach, trickling down from his spine.
“I’m a nobody,” he whispered. “What could they want with me?”
But Tim had no answers for him. He had passed out from sheer fright, his head lolling to the side. This time, Sergeant Caulder didn’t try to prod him awake. Instead, he sighed and got to his feet.
“All right, you can come back now, Rotter,” the sergeant called.
“About bloody time,” Rotter replied from the darkness. There was a grunt of exertion; then Rotter emerged from the dark incline, dragging Dominic’s body with him.
But … the body was moving. Struggling in fact, with Rotter’s hand clamped firmly over Dominic’s mouth. At the sight of the unconscious Tim, Rotter released his grip, and the rebel unleashed a tirade of curses.
“Better make use of that gag again, eh, Rotter?” Sergeant Caulder grinned.
“Blimey,” Elaine said, amazed at the endless string of swear words emanating from the rebel’s mouth.
“Wait…,” Prince Harold said, staring at the rebel as Rotter gagged him once again. “You didn’t kill him?”
“Cor, what he must think of us, eh?” Rotter said, shaking his head with a rueful smile.
Arcturus felt a wash of relief flood through him. Yes, these rebels had wanted to capture him, maybe even end his life. But after hearing them speak, seeing they were real people … he could not have wished such a fate upon them.
“Rotter makes for a great actor, don’t you think?” Sergeant Caulder laughed. “We used to do this with the new recruits, only we’d pretend it was punishment for falling asleep on watch. Works every time!”
“’Course, the blood was a new addition,” Rotter said, grimacing as he rolled up his chain-mailed sleeve to reveal a shallow cut there. “I drew the damned short straw.”
“You scared the living daylights out of us,” Harold said. “We thought you were…”
“Slaughtering a man in cold blood?” Rotter asked, his eyebrows raised.
“I thought it was revenge,” Arcturus said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Your friends … the rebels killed them.”
Sergeant Caulder twisted his hands, his eyes downcast.
“I blame nobody but myself for that,” the man said. “Maybe if I had—”
“There was nothing you could do, Sarge,” Rotter interrupted, “There were too—”
“Silence,” Sergeant Caulder said, holding up his hand.
“I’m sorry, I…,” Rotter began, a hurt look on his face.
“Quiet, I said,” Sergeant Caulder snapped, standing. He cocked his head to one side and peered into the darkness.
“Can you hear that?”
Arcturus strained his ears. There was a sound beyond, deep in the black interior of the cave. High pitched. Almost like … howling.
“We have to go,” Sergeant Caulder growled, snatching up the cleaver. “We have to go now!”
CHAPTER
26
“LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” Rotter shouted, shoving them one after another through the gap.
“What about the rebels?” Alice asked, stumbling as her sister dragged her out of the darkness.