Divided (75 page)

Slowly, too slowly, the knife found the inside of Taeru’s
thigh—the right one—the wound started near his knee and worked slowly upwards
towards the apex, Tareth cut an unforgiving line along the sensitive skin. 
Taeru twisted and mewled, trying desperately to silence and still himself.  To
no avail, though, and as Tareth started on his other thigh, Taeru’s body
betrayed him further.  Panting, breathing, everything seemed to cause the tiny
cuts in his mouth.  “Stop moving, little Phantom,” Tareth said.  Then, though,
the knife vanished.

Without further theatrics, Tareth moved the same knife to
cut a deep, steady swirl into Taeru’s abdomen.  The process was deliberate and unbearably
slow.  Pain synapsed through him, causing his body to twitch without warning. 
When the large swirl was complete, Tareth trailed the knife up one side of
Taeru’s torso and then the other. 
The prisoner’s bane,
Taeru’s mind
reminded him.  The cuts moved all the way up to Taeru’s jawline.  Insatiable
misery wracked his body.

“I’m sure you remember this flora,” Tareth said.  “I’ve got
insects—I can push you until your body is so out of your control that you’d
obey any command I gave you.”  The thought was sickening, but Taeru clung to
the fact that he’d passed out long before he’d lost control before. 

Easily, Tareth placed the purple plant against Taeru’s
abdomen, and the familiar prickle was followed by the mind-splitting agony. 
The roots extended, twisting about his neck and issuing commands of pain that
forced him to whimper.  The double-edged sword of the piece in his mouth and
the roots along his body felt overwhelming.  Perhaps he couldn’t do this, after
all.  Eventually, though, his mind adjusted, absorbing the pain as a necessary
side-effect to keeping his tongue. 

“Beg me,” Tareth instructed unemotionally.  Taeru’s jaw
clenched at the command, and despite the sweat and blood along his body, he
made his refusal apparent.  With another laugh, Tareth struck the rod across
Taeru’s cheek and inevitably, the tearing, ripping sensation shot up Taeru’s
torso.  “Beg,” Tareth said again.  Taeru glared through the pain, and without
fail, it worsened. 

The process repeated, with Tareth’s single command being
followed by additional pain.  Taeru could feel his own torso being torn apart. 
He felt as though he was being ripped in half.  Now, rather than being isolated
to an arm or leg, the pain spread throughout his entire form.  His neck seemed
to be destroying itself, cutting off his breathing.  His mind clouded, trying
desperately to focus on the singular reminder not to listen to Tareth.  Those
gray eyes continued watching him, with subdued interest, and that single
command rang out in his ears every time—signaling more pain.

The cut of the rod against his cheek became a background to
the eternal torture running through Taeru’s upper body. 
Just beg him,
some
part of Taeru’s mind pleaded.  This couldn’t continue.  Though, when the
command came from Tareth’s mouth, Taeru accepted the rod and the additional
pain without hesitation.  He could hear a keening somewhere in the distance,
knowing vaguely that he was the one making the sound. 
Stop, stop, stop. 
Don’t listen—don’t listen—don’t let him do this.  Don’t, please, don’t.  Stop. 
Stop now.  Stop.  Stop this.  Don’t submit.  You’re better than this.  Give him
this, and you have nothing.

Longer and longer, more and more—until finally, there was a
break in the process.  Tareth leaned forward, and there was a grip against
Taeru’s cheek.  The hands were slick, losing their grip and then regaining it. 
“You’re mad!” Tareth choked.  “Look at this.  Do you see this?”  Tareth’s hand
was in front of him, and it had turned magically red.  No—no, that was blood. 
Red, red, red.  Everywhere.  “You are going to bleed to death.  I doubt you
even have a tongue anymore,” Tareth snapped.

Taeru blinked.  He’d forgotten the mirror shard in his
determination to remain unconquered.  Now that he realized, he could feel the
stinging all inside his mouth. 
Imbecile…
Red, red, red everywhere.  It
glinted and gleamed off of Tareth’s hand and from his neck. 
From his neck? 
Taeru’s blood ought not be on Tareth’s neck. 

No, it wasn’t.  The red that he saw there was encased in
gold—a beautiful amulet, centered with a ruby.  Taeru felt like the ruby should
hold significance to him, despite his waning consciousness.  The idea of
Calis’s arms around him was sickening him—making him long for things he could
never have. 
Calis—the amulet. 
The amulet around Tareth’s neck was a
ruby, just like the one Calis had described.  What had he said? 

“The ruby is a trigger.” 

A trigger.  He had said that the ruby was a trigger, but
Taeru wasn’t sure how that was relevant.  His mind was so clouded and
disoriented that he didn’t know. 
Calis, Calis, Calis.  What did you say?

“Now, you’re going to beg me… and I’m going to turn you over
and fuck you.  That is how this is going to work, you mad, little fool.” 
Tareth’s voice echoed from somewhere in the distance. 
Fuck me?  Please,
don’t… Calis… Calis, help me…

“If pressed and pulled down just slightly, the golden
chain will release, and his neck will feel like it is being bitten by several
tiny insects.”

Insects.  Taeru didn’t want any more insects.  But no—these
would be good insects.  He forced his mind to realize what this meant.  Calis
had told him of a rigged amulet that he’d given his brother—incase Taeru had
ever been cornered.  Well, he was the epitome of cornered, now.  He had no way
of knowing if Calis had only done this as a test—perhaps the amulet would kill
Taeru instead.  But there was no harm in trying, as Taeru’s situation could not
get worse.  And still, in spite of himself, he trusted Calis to some degree. 
He had to do something.  This was all he could do.

“Now—will you beg me?” Tareth asked unkindly.

Slowly, trying to mind the mirror shard in his mouth, Taeru
nodded his head.  He would be able to reach the amulet only when Tareth bent
and removed the gag.  He had to do it, then, or this would be in vain.  With a
twisted grin, Tareth moved down, taking the gag from Taeru’s mouth. 

Pushing the mirror shard forward first with his tongue,
Taeru spat it out, lunging forward and grabbing the amulet with his teeth.  The
bite was jarring, and his teeth clattered against the precious stone. 
No,
no… work, please… work. 

Pull it down! 
Some voice in the back of his head
reminded him.

Tareth jerked back, Taeru kept the hold with his teeth, and
he felt the ruby move just slightly in its socket.  There was an odd clicking
sound. 

Calis… I don’t want to die.

“Even the strongest and well-intended of heroes made
mistakes, Aleia and the Hero each understood this.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.ii

The ear-piercing scream reached Lee and jolted him from his
position against the wall.  A scream so shocked and agonized that his mind was
chilled just hearing it.  His body pulled itself up, instinctively wanting to
assist whoever had screamed.  Then, there was the horrifying revelation of
where it had come from—the scream.  Lee had been stationed in the dungeons,
knowing that Taeru’s pain would be his own fault—yet he had been unable to find
where Tareth had taken Taeru.  And now with Juliet and the boy… The least he
could do was to be nearby in case there was anything that he could do.

The scream seemed to be the realization of all his fears,
only—he was fairly certain Taeru hadn’t made the sound.  The noise was too
hard, too filled with anger to be Taeru’s.  Hope swelled through Lee’s system
as he moved down the hall towards the sound, he was joined by four other men. 
He ran, panicked, and the scream sounded again, bringing him closer to it.  The
hallway twisted, but when Lee finally reached the sound—he stopped.  There was
no door.  The other men kept going, and two of them glanced back at him in
confusion.

Glaring towards the wall, Lee frowned, and only then did he
see the crease in the wall.  A secret room?  Snarling, Lee slammed his shoulder
forward and the door shifted.  He used the rest of his strength to slide it
backwards and sprinted down the stairs.  He could hear the men following behind
him.  When he reached the bottom of the short, twisted stairwell, the sight
stole his breath.  A room filled with gadgets for torture and cells in the back
filled with people who hadn’t seen the light of sun in what could have been
years.

Gasping, Lee’s eyes finally turned as another screamed
pierced the air.  There he was—Tareth, staggering backwards, and reaching
around for a weapon.  “Tareth!” Lee snapped.  He was keeping slaves—slaves! 
And he was… naked.  No, he wasn’t naked—he had on a shirt, but below his waist
was exposed. 

Lee pinched his forehead between his fingers, the sight
glowering in his mind.  He had wanted to get through life without that
particular image.  Then, he realized Tareth was writhing, twisting, and there
was an amulet with a ruby in it on the floor.  Tareth screamed curses into the
air, and Lee took a breath.  Tareth was blinded, and Lee would know—since he
made the serum that had blinded the man.  “Tareth,” he said flatly, “I realize
you are having trouble seeing, but are you aware that you are not wearing
pants?”

“YOU!  YOU!”  Tareth swung at nothing, as he was nowhere
near within range of Lee to actually be able to grab him.  Lee didn’t move, and
he didn’t move to help Tareth.  Then, the feeling that Lee had been trying to
hold back forced his head to turn—forced him to see what he’d done.

There he was, without his clothes, though saying Taeru’s
skin was exposed would have been an overstatement.  Blood had spilled all
across his form, smearing along his thighs to his ankles.  His entire torso was
lined with rivulets of crimson, and then, running from his mouth were several
steady streams of it.  “By the Light!” Lee choked. 
What have I done?

“KILL HIM!” Tareth shouted.  “KILL HIM NOW!” Tareth
screeched.  His body was fumbling, clueless as to its location.  Moments later,
the guards appeared in the room.  Lee moved towards Taeru, seeing the purple
flower on his abdomen.  “GUARDS!”

“You will do no such thing, guards!” Lee barked.  “Your king
has not given you permission to do anything of the sort.”

Tareth let out another ear-splitting scream, and he dropped
to his knees, covering his eyes.  He couldn’t see, and his neck had tiny beads
of blood all along it.  The amulet sat inconspicuously in the floor next to
him.  Lee had to work to keep the grim smirk from his face.  “You rat!” Tareth
hissed.  “I’ll kill him!  I’ll kill him and make Calis watch!”  He laughed, a
deranged sort of sound. 

Lee glared backwards.  “Go clean yourself up, Tareth!” Lee
growled.  “Guards, take him.”  When Tareth continued to blather incoherently,
Lee narrowed his eyes.  He needed to tend to Taeru—now.  “Be silent,
Tareth—lest I tell your father that you have been fucking sewer rats.”  His
words were more hateful than he’d wanted, but from the looks of things, the
people in the cells were too far gone to care. 

When two of the guards moved to Tareth’s side, one grabbing
his pants, to guide him towards the stairs, the prince only fought a little. 
He squirmed, obviously frustrated by the sight that had been suddenly taken
from him.  He shouted blackly, things that meant nothing, cursing Taeru,
cursing Calis.  As they got him to the stairs, both of the guards looking a
little bemused, Tareth shouted backwards.  “Make him walk,” Tareth hissed. 
“Wherever you take him—make him walk!”

With a frown, Lee scrambled over to Taeru.  Taeru was a
mess, but he wasn’t dead.  His body was shaking, obviously miserable at its
exposure.  Lee could see the black insects crawling all along the petals of the
flower on his abdomen. Gently, he eased the roots from the crevices in Taeru’s
body.  They came away fairly easily and Lee threw the flower to the floor.
Taeru’s whimpering was making him sick. 

Lee had never noticed how utterly small Calis’s lover was
before.  He was tiny.  His wrists were bound above him, crossed over one
another—while his feet were fastened in a device at the edge of the table. 
Blood was spilling from his mouth at an alarming rate—what sort of internal
injury would cause such heavy bleeding from the mouth?  The boy’s eyes were
closed, as though he was anticipating another blow.  A fair anticipation.  Lee gently
undid his wrists and then his feet.  “Stay,” Lee commanded, as kindly as he
could without alerting the two guards still waiting.

Taeru didn’t move, though probably because he couldn’t.  Lee
grabbed the prince’s bloodied pants, and with a little help from Taeru, he eased
them back up to the blood-stained waist.  He tried to ignore the bloody lines
along Taeru’s thighs.  Taeru was murmuring, whispering words that Lee didn’t
understand.  The cut on Taeru’s chest was a swirl, and Lee could make out the
purple and red bruising from busted veins along the cuts.  They matched ones
already formed on his arms and legs.  These were worse, though, bold and
dangerous in appearance. 

His breath was constant, if a little erratic, and Lee
assured himself that Taeru didn’t appear to be dying.  There were bruises on
his cheeks, and one hard mark where Tareth had probably caught him after the
amulet had triggered.  Finally, Lee could hear Taeru’s words.  “I can’t walk—I
can’t walk—I can’t walk…”  He was terrified, just begging incoherently to the
few words he could understand.

“Shh,” Lee whispered.  Blood just splashed out of Taeru’s
mouth every time he opened it, and frankly, Lee found himself terrified by it. 
“I’m not going to make you walk,” he promised, too low for the guards to hear. 

This is… madness…

Taeru’s body was so war torn and broken that Lee wasn’t sure
he wasn’t going to vomit.  Taeru had refused to give information in this
state?  Lee’s lips pressed into a hard line at the thought. 
Calis is going
to die a million times over…

The promise of not walking seemed to have silenced Taeru,
though he continued to cry quietly and shiver at the slightest touch.  “Go see
what his majesty wishes me to do with him,” Lee said warily to the men. 
Perhaps they would leave—both—and Lee could get Taeru out of here, now.  To his
dismay, though, only one nodded and moved back up the stairwell.  Lee looked
through the rips in Taeru’s pants to see the bruises that indicated walking
would have been nearly impossible.  Tareth had made him walk—had he actually
walked?

Taeru was mumbling again, and Lee tried to move so that he
could hear the words properly.  Anything he could do to ease Taeru’s mind, he
ought to do it.  However, when he heard the words, even his heart felt entirely
broken.  “Calis…”  Taeru was whimpering Calis’s name, without rhyme or reason. 

Very gently, Lee bent his head to whisper to Taeru again,
where the guard could not hear.  “He didn’t tell them, Taeru—it was me, it was
me
. 
I’m so sorry.  I had to—I’m sorry…”  Guilt slammed into him, sickening him.

Taeru’s eyes finally widened in shock.  After a few slow,
agonizing moments, he choked.  His lips remained parted and finally words
articulated.  “I wanted to help them—I only did it for that… I wasn’t…”

“I know,” Lee hissed in return.  “I know that.”

“Calis?” Taeru whimpered.

Lee glanced back to the guard, ensuring that the man wasn’t
listening too closely.  His green eyes found Taeru with growing softness. 
“Everything is going to be okay,” he promised, quietly.

Silence reigned over the room, then.  Lee watched Taeru
tenderly, desperate to see that the boy wasn’t going to die.  The blood coming
from his mouth seemed to have no source, though it poured without much relent. 
A few moments later, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the other guard
appeared in the hallway.  “Take him to the execution cell,” the man said
informatively.  “His majesty wishes to hang him—at dusk.”  Lee’s body clenched
in reaction.  He would have to hurry.  Then, the guard spoke again
thoughtfully.  “His majesty also requests your audience, sir.”  That was
precisely what Lee wanted to hear. 

When his eyes moved to Taeru, there was agonized terror in
the breathtakingly blue eyes.  Hanging—execution—Taeru was trying to be brave,
but there were tears just beneath his eyes, and his shaking worsened slightly. 
“It will be okay,” Lee promised again, and then he slowly lifted the boy from
the table. 

“You aren’t making him walk?” one of the guards asked.

Lee just gave him a flat smile.  “We would be here for an
eternity if we had him walk—don’t be absurd.”  The man accepted this with a nod
of his head.  The guards were trying not to look at Taeru, probably because
they knew this was wrong, too.  “Did you mention this place to his majesty?”

“I… ah, yes.”

“Good,” Lee said with a satisfied smirk. 
Enjoy what
doing this to Taeru has brought you, Tareth.  Enjoy it while you can.

The execution cell wasn’t far, and Taeru sat in frightened
silence, quivering slightly and choking occasionally as they walked to it.  The
cell was on the first level of the dungeon, and the cell was a single, small
gray room. 

One of the guards unlocked it, and Lee entered it, sitting
Taeru against the wall.  He glanced at the shackles above the boy’s head.  Lee
had to do it—he had to put Taeru’s arms in them, lock them over his head, as
though he was some sort of threat.  Lee wasn’t sure he could loathe himself any
more than he did. 
This is necessary. 

Without prompting, Lee grabbed Taeru’s arms and fastened the
shackles about his wrists.  Taeru winced, glancing up at the shackles warily. 
The position didn’t look comfortable, and Lee muttered a quiet apology before
he stood.  “That should be it, sir,” one of the guards said.  “His majesty is
awaiting your audience.”

Lee turned away from Taeru, trying desperately to get the
image out of his mind.  He had a job to do, and if he let sentiment get in the
way—he would have no way to atone for all of this.  As he headed for the cell’s
doorway, a hoarse voice interrupted him.  Taeru.

“Wait,” he begged.  Lee stiffened. 

Don’t beg me, Taeru.  Don’t do it.  I won’t be able to
refuse you.  Don’t ruin this now.

When Lee tentatively stared forward, not wanting to turn and
look into those bottomless blue eyes, Taeru continued.  “Please, tell him I’m
sorry.  Tell him I didn’t mean to deceive him—I really didn’t…”  With another
breath, Taeru silenced himself shortly.  He wasn’t going to beg—no, he was
worried about Calis.  Lee wished he could inform Taeru how wrong he was.  Taeru
was the one apologizing, now?  His guilt clearly knew no bounds.

Turning back, Lee met Taeru’s eyes with assurance.  “I’ll do
you one better,” he mouthed, and then he turned and shut the door to the cell.

Ignoring the other guards, Lee headed up to meet Lavus in
the throne room.  The image of Taeru, bound to the wall, haunted him as he
walked.  He wasn’t sure that he would ever get that image out of his mind.  He
had to protect Taeru, for Calis’s sake, and for his own sanity.  He had caused
this—and now he had better stop it. 

Every step was filled with the memory of Taeru, and every
step the memory was more vivid and more painful.  By the time he reached the
throne room, his knees felt as though they might buckle underneath him.  No, he
had to act this out—he had to do this one, last time, to ensure that he
finished the job he had started. 

Lee took a breath as he pushed the door open.  The throne
room felt as though it might consume him, but Lavus stood at the other end of
it—waiting for him.  He hoped that he could pull this off, even with the guilt
that was threatening to destroy him.  Lee was relieved to see that Tareth was
nowhere to be found.  A few more steps and he was within range of Lavus, and so
he bowed. 
Please, let this work.  Light have mercy… let me save him.

The king’s eyes flickered for a moment when they saw Lee,
and to the advisor’s relief, they brightened.  He looked a mixture of amused
and irritated.  He was no doubt reeling from the idea that even his lesser son
had been fucking Dark Districters.  “Keiichi,” Lavus spoke smoothly.  Lee said
nothing immediately, making sure to collect his thoughts.  “I trust you saw my
son’s disgusting habits for yourself?”

“Yes,” Lee answered immediately.  He had to force himself to
do this—but his mind was so tormented by thoughts of Taeru that he wasn’t
functioning as he should be.  “Men are lustful creatures, though, my lord,” he
said woefully.

“A trait in both of my sons that is causing me much grief,”
Lavus said thoughtfully.  “But, the Cathalari, how did he manage to blind my
son?  Are you aware?”  The man was genuinely curious—he didn’t know.  How could
he, when the amulet was still lying in the floor of Tareth’s room of terror?