The Fury Yet To Come Read online

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Sera began, then proceeded to tell Gallows about the clerk whose job she’d saved that morning. That was Sera all over, putting others before herself no matter what. She’d once stood Gallows up because she witnessed a watchman cuff an innocent kid around the ear, and ended up spending the night in the cells. The watchman lost his job, and Gallows reckoned he fell even more in love with her.

  Streams of deep purples and oranges hung in the sky as the sun sank low. Who cares about the war? We’ve got one night before I go—we’ll make it count.

  Well, there was a way these things were done, and if he rehearsed his speech any more, he’d hate it.

  The air in Old Town Square grew hotter. Gallows bent down on one knee. ‘Sera…’

  At first she laughed. Then she cried. Then she hit him, convinced he was joking.

  After that, she said yes.

  They got a motorcarriage to the Laguna Lounge, drank themselves silly, danced in the street and made love in Sera’s grand apartment. They recounted the night they’d met, drank more, and argued over details of their wedding ceremony—Sera wanted something small and intimate, while Gallows pressed for a wedding so big it would make King Owain jealous.

  As the evening threatened to turn into morning, they laughed and held each other tighter.

  ‘We’re going to have a great life together,’ Sera uttered, her eyelids growing heavy. ‘Now I don’t need to keep telling you to get your hair cut.’

  And when the morning came, nothing could have made Gallows wake her. It was the image he carried while he made his way to the harbour, that of Sera frozen in perfect, peaceful sleep.

  She’d never looked more beautiful.

  ‘You have a lot of love for her,’ Nidra observed, impaling a sliver of meat with her fork. ‘How long after you die do you think she’ll wait before rushing into the bed of another—’

  Gallows hurled the table onto its side, its contents crashing over the floor. He seized Nidra from her chair and pinned her against the wall. ‘You don’t get to talk about her!’

  Nidra’s brow lifted and her lips parted, like she was amused. ‘I have something for you,’ she whispered. ‘A gift, for telling me about Sera. Bring them in!’

  Two kuramanusa stepped into the chamber, each dragging a hooded body across the floor.

  ‘Remove their hoods.’ Nidra spoke without taking her eyes from Gallows.

  When the slaves did as she commanded, the bruised and beaten faces of Rocco and Helmsley stared up at Gallows.

  ‘You’re alive.’ Gallows’ grip loosened, but he still held Nidra tight. ‘Both of you.’

  Gags had been stuffed into their mouths. They didn’t even try to speak.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ breathed Gallows, ‘what have you done?’

  ‘I suggest you step back.’ Serrated steel ran through Nidra’s words. ‘Unless you believe your friends want to die in an obscene and undignified manner…’

  Fire burned on Gallows’ skin and the taut muscles in his forearms ached. Nidra was playing with him—she could make him move away with one word, but she wanted him to do it himself—like it was his choice.

  Gallows relinquished his grip and drew back.

  ‘Much better.’ Nidra dusted herself down and adjusted her golden hair.

  ‘You’re an asshole,’ said Gallows. He bent down and examined Rocco and Helmsley. Both men had been through hell—the indigo in Rocco’s eyes had faded like the dying gasp of an ignium lamp. His pale skin clung tight to his bones and stale blood clung to his bare chest. He reeked of nicotine, and Gallows saw more than one small, circular burn embedded in his skin. They looked different from his recent bullet wounds.

  Helmsley wasn’t much better—his right eye had swollen closed and a patchwork of purple welts stitched over his dark skin. His shoulders slumped forward like the stoop of a man much older.

  Rocco’s feet were bare and filthy, but Helmsley wore his regulation boots.

  Gallows’ eyes burned. ‘What the hell did she do to you?’

  ‘I advise against removing their gags,’ Nidra called, like she was reading words from a songbook. ‘Especially the half-Phadrosi’s—Nyr above, but he can talk.’

  Gallows turned and growled, ‘His name’s Rocco.’

  Nidra slinked past Gallows and stood with her slave-soldiers. ‘I care more about the wellbeing of my kuramanusa than I do for his name.’

  Helmsley’s good eye widened as one of the Perceptor’s talons grazed his cheek, mangled words hissing over the rag in his mouth.

  Rocco said nothing as she did the same to him, his dimmed eyes pinned to the floor, his breathing sharp and quick.

  ‘What did you do to them?’ Gallows demanded.

  Nidra clapped and let out a contented sigh. ‘Ah, you’d like a demonstration!’

  Rocco whimpered; Helmsley howled and struggled in his bonds.

  ‘Nidra,’ Gallows started, ‘whatever—’

  She hissed something in Helmsley’s ear—and he changed. His body relaxed and his eyelids drooped.

  Rocco grew more panicked. His shoulders shook with a violent lurch, eyes clamped shut.

  Sourness rose in Gallows’ throat. ‘Nidra…’

  The Perceptor untied Helmsley’s bonds—and, with a playful smile, Helmsley got up and kicked Rocco to the floor. Saliva bubbled from the Phadrosi’s mouth.

  ‘Belios!’ swore Gallows. ‘Helmsley! Nidra, stop this—stop!’

  Nidra watched in silence, fingers clasped beneath her chin, face lighting up with glee.

  Rocco writhed on the stone, cowering and whimpering. Helmsley’s boot swung into Rocco’s ribs, sending him skidding across the floor. Rocco tried to escape, but he coughed blood over his gag.

  ‘He’d probably move quicker if I hadn’t made him smoke twenty cigarettes this morning.’ Nidra examined her nails as she spoke. ‘Terrible for your health.’

  Gallows lunged at her—the kuramanusa conjured knives and stepped closer to the Nidra. He halted.

  ‘You’re sick,’ spat Gallows, shaking from anger. ‘Stop this.’

  ‘You know,’ purred Nidra, ‘I don’t believe I will.’

  Vomit leeched through Rocco’s gag as Helmsley struck him in the stomach.

  ‘Gods!’ screamed Gallows. His own stomach heaved at what he was witnessing, and hot blood coursed through his veins. Back when Gallows stormed the beach, the chaos of battle and the instinct to survive dampened the horrors. Details crept in when he slept or closed his eyes, but the frenetic nature numbed the worst of it.

  This was different—it was more real, more intimate. Gallows couldn’t do anything but watch. Never had he felt so helpless—so pathetic. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  Nidra’s mouth arched like the curve of an Idari shamshir. ‘Because I can.’

  ‘Goddamn it, none of us know anything. This accomplishes nothing!’

  Nidra watched Helmsley with intense wonder, like a spectator watching circus acrobats dance in the air.

  Gallows moved to help again—and once more, Nidra’s head snapped to her slave-soldiers. Their knives gleamed.

  Gallows stood rooted to the ground. ‘Damn the Gods.’

  Blood spluttered through the corner of Rocco’s mouth, accompanied by a wheezing moan. Sweat sheened Helmsley’s head—but again and again, he kicked out at his ally—eyes relaxed, face content.

  Gallows kept screaming, turning his voice hoarse. ‘He’s killing him!’

  Nidra waved his protests away. Rocco’s bloodshot eyes pleaded for help.

  And Gallows couldn’t do a damn thing.

  Helmsley booted Rocco again, resulting in a sickening crack.

  Rocco’s injuries were bad enough, but what about Helmsley? Gallows knew what it was like to see yourself do things you didn’t want—to have your protests pushed down and smothered. ‘He’s a pacifist!’ he yelled.

  ‘Yes.’ Nidra’s eyes glinted. ‘And I made him better.’

  ‘You’re sick,’ said Gallows. �
�You ain’t even interrogating us any more. You enjoy this!’

  Laughter curled from Nidra like smoke from incense. ‘A fact I have made no effort to conceal.’

  This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, and it couldn’t go on. If Gallows was in Rocco’s—or Helmsley’s—position, he’d rather die than endure any more.

  He eyed Nidra and made his decision.

  But as he was about to charge her, she called, ‘Stop.’

  Helmsley ceased his assault. He stood on the spot, wavering like a ship on a shallow wave, smile on his face.

  Rocco sucked in wet breaths, cowering in a corner.

  Nidra sighed. ‘That said, it does get tiresome after the tenth or twelfth time. I know!’ She clapped once, eyes lighting up. ‘Shall we make it more interesting, Corporal Gallows? Why don’t you choose?’

  A chill crept through the air. Gallows’ heart beat with a slow thud. ‘What?’

  ‘They bore me. One should die. Choose.’

  ‘You’re insane,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Choose.’

  ‘No. No.’

  Nidra’s eyebrow arched. ‘Kill them both.’

  The kuramanusa moved like spiders.

  ‘No!’ yelled Gallows.

  ‘Stop,’ commanded Nidra, and the kuramanusa halted.

  ‘You can’t ask me to do this.’ Gallows’ voice weighed like an anchor. ‘I won’t. You don’t own me, Nidra. I ain’t your whipping boy.’

  One foot in front of the other, Nidra glided towards Gallows. Rocco’s soft breathing was the only noise in the room.

  ‘I admire your defiance, Corporal. Foolish, but admirable. Now choose.’

  Rocco held Gallows’ gaze—he knew what would be going through his mind. Gallows knew what he would want in Rocco’s position.

  But Gallows would not give up. ‘No,’ he said, clenching his fists. ‘If you have to kill someone, kill me.’

  Nidra said nothing.

  Gallows’ eyes darted to Rocco and then Helmsley. How could he choose which one of his friends died? It was worse than being beaten, worse than being stabbed by the kiro—worse than Nidra penetrating his mind.

  An animal groan burst from him. He saw the reflection of lamplight in Nidra’s dark eyes.

  But something was different about her; some subtle difference in the way she regarded him. Even the way she spoke to him tonight had been different.

  She wasn’t the same.

  Since he’d broken free of her will, she’d kept her distance. Why? Why ask him to choose instead of forcing him? Why ask him to talk about Sera with his own free will?

  Sera. He’d broken free when the small part of him still in control focused on Sera.

  That was the last time he was under her will.

  Nidra had given him his clothes and brought him into this room. She’d asked to hear about his last day with Sera, threatened to make him tell her when he protested.

  But she didn’t.

  Gallows’ heart raced.

  She can’t control me any more.

  He tried to hide the realisation from his expression—but Nidra saw it. Lines creased her brow as she stepped back.

  ‘Well, now,’ Gallows started. He marched towards Nidra, satisfied to see her cower before him. She can’t control me. New blood pumped in Gallows’ veins. His aches faded. ‘Nidra—when did you realise? Answer. When did you figure out your power over me had—’

  She convulsed with laughter.

  Gallows stopped.

  ‘Take them and leave,’ she commanded. The kuramanusa pulled Helmsley and Rocco away. ‘And lock the door.’

  An invisible iron clamp tightened around Gallows’ throat. He lunged towards Nidra, desperate to ruin the smirk on her face.

  ‘Stop.’

  His body seized.

  She angled her head and drew close to him. ‘You believe Sera gives you strength, dog?’

  Gallows’ arms and legs failed him but Nidra allowed him to speak. ‘Stop—please stop, Nidra.’ Gallows’ pleading sounded weak even to him.

  ‘Now,’ her voice chimed. ‘Get on the bed.’

  The key scraped in the lock, and Gallows heard the muffled footsteps of the kuramanusa disappear.

  ‘What?’ Pearls of ice trailed down Gallows’ skin. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m going to show you just what little strength you have, dog. I’m going to show you that your Sera is nothing.’

  The invisible tendrils emanating from Nidra caressed Gallows’ skin like pins and needles.

  He wanted to fight back, to lash out—but his rictus limbs didn’t move.

  ‘Please,’ he said, dread rising in his belly.

  Nidra sneered at him.

  ‘Please…’

  But his will stripped away. A cloud settled over him, the colours of the room rising.

  Gallows floated to the bed and knelt on top of it.

  ‘Strip.’

  Deep inside, Gallows screamed, but his pleas disappeared before they reached his throat. His fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

  ‘Belt.’

  With one finger, Nidra pushed Gallows back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Her tongue traced a line from his bare torso to his neck. Her talons pinned his wrists and she leaned down on him—writhing back and forth, breath hitching. ‘I’ll make you forget all about Sera, dog.’

  IV

  It didn’t stop.

  Again and again, Nidra’s kuramanusa would tear Gallows from his cell and hand him to the Grand Perceptor, where she’d compel him into her bed.

  Her power left her weakened, so she’d leave him to stew in his cell for a day, leaving Gallows alone with his guilt and shame.

  Then she came back refreshed, and the cycle repeated.

  Minutes bled into hours, hours bled into days.

  But I beat her. Focusing on Sera gave me the strength to beat her.

  Or was it a trick? Did Nidra make him believe he’d overcome her power simply to foster some kind of hope in him, just so she could extinguish it? How would Gallows know? How could he trust his own mind?

  ‘Tell me she’s worthless,’ Nidra would say, nails digging into Gallows’ flesh. ‘Tell me I’m better than Sera.’

  ‘Sera’s worthless,’ his deadened voice would come. ‘You’re better than her.’

  ‘That’s right, dog.’

  She’d make him kiss her. If she had the energy for it, she’d make him close his arms around her when they were done, lying in the bed like lovers.

  Sometimes she wouldn’t utter a word—she’d pull him into her chamber and command him to pleasure her before sending him back to his cell—breaking the thrall while the smell of her still lingered on him.

  Once, she’d entered his cell, strode towards Gallows with her hands behind her back, leered at him… And exited without a word.

  She didn’t have to go near him to make him fear her.

  And every day, Gallows felt his spirit chip away—so he rebelled the only way he could—refusing the food handed to him by the kuramanusa.

  That lasted one meal before Nidra forced him to eat.

  ‘Can’t have my dog growing weak,’ she’d said in his ear.

  Sometimes she brought Helmsley and Rocco, making them watch as Gallows took her—made them listen as Gallows said obscene things about Sera. Helmsley protested, so Nidra made Gallows beat him and tear the pages from his Codex.

  Gallows had never known cruelty like it. The empty hours in the cell were bliss compared to what Nidra made him do.

  I’m sorry, Sera.

  He lay in the far corner of his cell, knees to his chest, bare feet together.

  I’m sorry.

  The key turned in the lock, and Gallows whined. Not again. His legs shuddered.

  The door scraped across the stone floor.

  ‘Not again,’ he whispered, ‘please, not again.’

  ‘Oh, sweet boy.’ She sang the words like a house sparrow. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, I know you
enjoy it.’

  He let out an anguished scream and got to his feet. ‘Go to Hell, Nidra.’

  She was flanked by her two kuramanusa, their impassive eyes staring at Gallows.

  Nidra wore a different dress this time—ruby and flowing. It reminded Gallows of a fountain of fire he’d once seen erupt from a vast pillar of ignicite. When Nidra stepped forward, dread rose in Gallows’ belly. ‘I hope you’ve saved your strength, cur.’

  He lashed out at her but one of her slave-soldiers batted his arm away.

  ‘Why do you struggle, dog?’ Nidra’s voice lilted. ‘Were it not for me, you’d be dead. You should thank me.’

  He clenched his eyes shut.

  ‘You worry what Sera would think? You’ve no need to feel guilty, dog, there is no betrayal here.’

  What little food Gallows had eaten threatened to come up again. ‘I’ll kill you, Nidra. I’ll kill—’

  She clapped her hands once. ‘Come along, dog, I require satisfaction.’

  ‘I swear, I’ll kill—’

  ‘I can force you if you prefer,’ she reminded him. ‘Come. Now.’

  Gallows recognised the futility of it, but still he refused to move.

  ‘Perhaps one of your friends would like to join us?’ Nidra adjusted her dress. ‘Perhaps I’ll watch?’

  Gallows snarled and threw himself towards her. Her kuramanusa blocked his attack, bringing knives to Gallows’ throat. ‘Do it.’ Spittle flecked his chin. ‘Do it. Do it!’

  ‘Such poor manners, Dalthean.’ Nidra angled her head up. ‘I think I’ll take my time tonight.’

  * * *

  ‘Your city will fall, dog,’ said Nidra, her face screwing up as she looked down on him. ‘Your people will be… cleansed from this earth, and as Gods… we will reign.’

  Gallows’ silent screams raged as the Perceptor’s chest chafed against his, her tongue lapping at his ear.

  The spark inside Gallows that remained his own raged and rebelled—but nothing happened. He tried to focus on Sera, tried to gain strength against Nidra—all it accomplished was numbing the pain.

  ‘The first wave of your… Prevailing Wind…’ Nidra giggled. ‘Oh, how arrogant they were, thinking… us beaten. And they talked and talked… Yes, like that… Perhaps I’ll keep you?’ she said, writhing faster. ‘When your city burns. Would you like that? Yes, yes you would, wouldn’t you? Tell me you would.’