Roar, page 28
“It won't kill you quickly though. That would have been too easy a death for what you did. But it will eventually kill you. And when you die I hope you go straight to the underworld! Burn in hell you Bastard!”
And with those final words she was gone. Unfortunately the pain remained. If anything it seemed to be getting worse; threatening to drive Thorm over the edge into madness. And he knew even as he continued to cry out in pain that it wasn't going to end. He didn't know what she had done. But he understood that his life was over. And that there was nothing he could do about it.
He screamed some more and knew that he was doomed. It was never going to end.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Camille woke up to the sound of someone screaming at her and then the feel of something stinging her cheek.
The pain made her open her eyes. Staring down at her was the face of Madam Lily, the dream weaver she'd hired. She was an older woman with deep wrinkles around her eyes. Right now those wrinkles seemed to be becoming more pronounced by the second.
“What have you done?!” The woman slapped her across the face again, harder than before, her voice filled with panic. “Dear Artemis, what have you done?!” She screamed at her.
“What I needed to.” Camille smiled at her. Then she spat out the small bag of drugs she'd held under her tongue.
It had been a good strike. A perfect strike. She hadn't known until just then that she could strike like that. But with the poison pill on her tongue and the will in her heart, it had been easy. Now the bastard would finally pay for what he had done to her mother! He would suffer as he should. Camille only wished that what she had done really would kill him. Unfortunately it wouldn’t though she had made sure to make him think it would. She only hoped that her actions would make him regret his own. That he would know for the rest of his life what an evil little toad he was.
“Oh shite!” The woman, stared at the bag of drugs and then slapped her again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. Then she stood up, went to the window and raised her voice. “Guards! Call the guards!” She practically screamed it at the top of the lungs at anyone who would hear.
Camille panicked a little when she heard that. Guards? Did the woman think she was some sort of criminal? Suddenly frightened she wondered if she should run. But then she relaxed. The woman was upset. She probably had a right to be. After all, Madam Lily had agreed to bring Camille to Thorm in his dreams, not realising that she intended to hurt the wizard. It was a betrayal of the woman’s trust. Perhaps it was also a minor crime? If so she would happily pay the penalty. What mattered was that her mother had been avenged in some small way. Thorm would pay for what he had done. And he would know why she had struck out at him.
She felt good about it. Everyone said that the dream strike was a great evil. That it poisoned the souls of those who used it. And truthfully she had feared the cost. But from what she could see there had been no price to pay. Camille felt wonderful. Exhilarated. But then after what he had done to her mother, what else should she feel? He was evil. There could be no forgiveness for his crime. Truly she felt fantastic. She hadn't known if she could do this. Even with a dream weaver's magic at her disposal. And if she'd failed it would have been her that had been hurting. But she hadn't failed. And she had felt nothing but joy when he had screamed.
Others might call what she had done revenge. And she supposed it was. But it was also justice. The only justice she could get.
The sound of feet beating a heavy tattoo on the wooden floorboards, followed by door bursting open with some force interrupted Camille’s musings. Two guards appeared in the room, and then Madam Lily started babbling hysterically at them. She was almost unintelligible as she screamed and yelled, but they seemed to understand her. Then one of the guards grabbed her and roughly hoisted her up from the mat on which she'd been sitting. The other guard then started binding her wrists behind her, even as the dream weaver continued to babble hysterically about what had happened.
Damn! The woman really was upset, she thought. Clearly hamadryads were an emotional people. She hadn't realised that. But of course it hadn't been the dream weaver's mother that had been so badly hurt. She couldn’t therefore understand Camille’s need to mete out justice.
Camille tried to explain. No one though seemed to be listening to her. The guards – more and more of whom seemed to be appearing with every minute – were listening attentively to everything the dream weaver said, and not at all to her. A couple of them were taking careful notes. Another guard had already run off to get the Captain. Which left her wondering what all the fuss was about. It wasn't as though she'd harmed anyone in Strongheart. Nor even a hamadryad. Thorm wasn’t one of their people. Nor was he any damned hero! He was a criminal!
She also hadn’t actually killed their precious hero despite what the dream weaver claimed. Though truthfully, for the relatively short time he felt the pain, he might well wish he was dead. But he would recover. Her mother by contrast, never would. All things considered, Camille thought he had got off quite lightly.
Unfortunately when the Captain finally came over to her and heard her explanation, he didn't agree with her. Even as he gave orders for her to be taken to the gaol he asked for the Oracle to be summoned.
Damn! Camille really didn't want to see Potaine. The damned woman was forever lecturing her about things. Now she would get yet another telling off. Some days it seemed, that was the only thing the woman knew how to do.
But as Camille left the room she turned her head to look back at the dream weaver one more time. The woman was still giving her statement to the guards. But Camille could see tears running down the woman’s cheeks. It was almost as if she'd actually killed the damned lion wizard!
The thought gave her pause. She wasn't a killer and yet that was how this woman seemed to see her. Had she somehow made a mistake and somehow killed the damned wizard? For a moment, Camille almost began to wonder.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Eight days! Camille had spent eight days locked up in this little wooden cell. She couldn’t say quite how tired she was of it!
Truthfully Camille was fed up with the whole thing. No one had yet told her what she had done wrong or why she was locked up. She hadn't done anything wrong. She'd extracted a little bit of justice for her mother. The tiniest amount. That was all.
The guards wouldn't speak to her. Instead they came, delivered her meals and took the dishes away. They took away her chamber pot too and replaced it with a fresh one. But they said nothing. Most of the time they wouldn't even look at her. And that was when they were in the main chamber, standing at their station in front of the desk. Most of the time they weren't. The station was empty and all she could see from her cell was an empty wooden chamber with a desk in it and more empty wooden cells on the other side of it. There were no other prisoners in any of the other cells either. Most of the time she was alone, staring at wooden walls, wooden floors, wooden ceilings and cold iron bars.
No one visited her. No one answered her questions. And so she just ended up sitting here in her tiny cell, day after day, staring at the wooden walls, trying to work out what was going on. In the back of her mind she was really starting to wonder if she had accidentally killed the lion wizard.
But that was impossible. The poison she'd used was ragwort based. It had been designed to cause pain – perhaps even terrible pain. It could even cause confusion. But it wasn’t fatal. Moreover, she doubted she had the strength to kill someone through their dreams.
Some dreamers could kill, she knew. They were the most powerful of dreamers; the Dreaming Lords. But the process was dangerous. If the dreamer failed to transfer the poison through the dream it stayed in their body and they died instead. She herself wasn't a dreamer. She'd had to use the services of a dream weaver to put her in contact with Thorm. So she hadn't dared use a deadly poison. She'd used a minor torture drug and transferred just the effects to Thorm. It was all she could do safely. So she couldn't have killed him.
But perhaps she had somehow hurt him more deeply than she'd thought she had? And if she had then of course they would be upset. He was their shining hero after all. They couldn't see past that to the crimes he’d committed in his past. Perhaps they didn't want to.
The thought frightened her. Not because of the hurt she might have inflicted on the damned lion wizard, but because of the punishment she might be given for it. She had been locked up for eight days so far. But what if it became eight weeks? Eight months? Eight years? She didn't think she could spend years sitting in this tiny wooden cell staring at the walls, thinking it might eventually become what it mostly reminded her of – a coffin.
This day however, finally provided a change. Camille heard the door to the chamber outside her cell opened and a familiar face stepped through. It was the Oracle.
“Potaine!” She greeted the eyeless woman with relief.
“Don't!” The Oracle held up her hand to stop her speaking. Her face was grim. “I'm here to tell you what you've done. I have no interest in listening to your self-serving excuses and justifications.” Her face was full of thunderclouds.
“You were brought here to Yessamine so that you would be safe from our enemies. Mine, yours, your mother's and the peoples'. It was thought that only here would you be safe. And since you had no inherent magic and therefore would ordinarily not be permitted to stay here, promises had to be made. I had to make those promises in the name of Artana. You have betrayed me and offended the Goddess. You have also caused considerable harm.”
“Madam Lily who you hired to allow you to share a dream with Thorm Endorson, is broken. She experienced the pain of the curse you bestowed upon him first hand and she simply wasn't prepared for it. When she emerged from the Great Dream she learnt that you had made her an accomplice to your crime. Potentially a murderess.”
“Thorm himself, is gone. We tracked him through the Great Dream for as long as we could. But as the days continued and he became weaker and more and more lost in his pain and confusion, it became ever harder to find him. Even for the most powerful dreamers. Two days ago he vanished from the realm of dreams, and quite probably from the realm of the living. If he still breathes it will probably not be for long. When that happens an innocent man and a gentle soul will be gone from this world.”
“He's not –!” Camille tried to protest, but the Oracle cut her off.
“Enough!” The Oracle raised her voice. “I have told you this before. I have told your aunt the same thing. Thorm did not hurt your mother. He spoke the absolute truth when he said that. My Mistress also knows the truth. I do not yet know what happened to your mother. We may never know. But this much is not in question. You struck down a blameless soul with your curse. One so paralysed by the fear of harming others that he can barely defend himself.”
“But Mara –!”
“Lied.” The Oracle finished for her. “I do not yet know who she is or why she lied. But I do know that when I sent Matilde to bring her to me for questioning, she had fled. In fact she had left days before. I also know that when Elspeth told me of what she had said to you, the facts she gave were false. There was no funnel of fire before the store exploded. We have the reports of that day. Many reports. Our agents spent a considerable amount of time trying to find out what had happened at the time. There was just a series of explosions. Mara lied.”
Camille stood there, speechless. Shocked. In all her plans and imaginings, that was the one thing she had never expected. That Mara had lied to her. And she just couldn't understand it. Why would she have done so? It made no sense. She had nothing to hide as the truth of her failings were already out in the open for the world to see. She had betrayed her fiancée with Lord Aston and been punished for it. And yet despite her dishonouring of Thorm Mara could not see past the fact that he had turned out to have magic. It had been her ambition that had outed him to the Enforcer. And why had she left so quickly? Had she known what was soon to transpire? How?
Unless there was something else going on and Mara was hiding it. But what? And how had Mara known what Camille was going to do? Could she read the future? She had no magic. At least Camille thought she didn’t But even as Camille wanted to say that to the Oracle, Potaine was continuing.
“What you did was the blackest of magic. A crime that cannot be countenanced. You have shamed this entire city, and smashed the hopes of so many who thought the coming war would be averted by Thorm Endorson. Half the people here believe you are in league with the Eternal King. His personal assassin. One of the Night Maiden's shades. The other half imagine you are simply a monster.”
“And still I have to defend you somehow. My Mistress insists.”
“You are still in danger and that makes you a potential threat to your mother’s ability to continue defying the King. As the only place where you should remain safe is here in Strongheart, you must remain here until things have changed. That may be days, weeks, months or even years. And until that happens you will not leave this cell.”
“When it eventually does however, you will be released and escorted from Strongheart, and from Erisen itself. You will never be allowed to return. Those who use magic to curse people are not welcome here. It is the gravest of crimes.”
With that the Oracle abruptly spun on her heels and strode out of the room, leaving Camille alone with her questions. And she had so many!
Had she killed Thorm? And if she had, how had she killed him? It wasn't supposed to be possible. She hadn't even tried to kill him. She had only wanted to hurt him. And scare him a little. Maybe a lot! She had wanted to make him know some suffering for what he'd done.
Now though she had become a murderer? What did that mean? For the Oracle? For the dream weaver? For her? And for how long would she end up being locked away here? Presumably until the King was overthrown or her mother was taken out of the picture. The second option was most likely and while she hoped that that was because her mother escaped, it was more likely that it would occur because her mother would die. And while it might shorten her tenure here, she prayed that that wasn’t what happened.
Then there was Mara. Was it true that she lied? And if so why? Was it possible that she was acting on someone else’s behalf? And if so whose?
But of all the questions Camille needed answers to, there was one question she was almost too terrified to ask, just in case the answer was not what she wanted to hear. Could Thorm really be innocent? Had she harmed or even killed an innocent man?
He couldn't be, she thought! He had to be guilty! The Oracle had to be wrong! And surely Mara had been telling the truth! Camille held on to that thought with everything she had. Because the alternative was unthinkable.
Camille sat back on the bed and leaned against the wooden wall, pulling her knees up to her chin. And then she tried desperately not to think about it. Because if she gave substance to what the Oracle had said the guilt would eat her alive. And yet, how could she not?
By the Seven, what had she done?!
Chapter Thirty
When he finally awoke, it wasn't as Thorm Endorson. But that was the only way he could awaken. Because being the two legs hurt. But if he wasn't the two legs he didn't. So as long as he was just the lion he was safe from it. That was the lesson he had finally learned. He had to stop thinking all these other strange thoughts. About wanting to walk on two legs. He walked on four. That was all there was. All this other stuff wasn't him. It was someone else. A dream. A bad dream. And when he gave into it, it hurt. He didn't want to hurt anymore. And so he didn't.
What did make sense then was that he was thirsty. And there was a puddle in the corner of the cave that had water in it. Something in him was yelling a strange sound at him as he stared at the puddle – basin. But he ignored it. It had water and he wanted to drink. He got up, unsteady on his feet for some reason, and went to it. And then he started drinking. Lapping up the bad tasting water as fast as he could. Filling his belly with it. After that he collapsed again, and recovered a little more.
He was weak. Hurting. And he didn't know why. But whatever the pain was, it was easing. Easing enough that he could forget it. Just lay there, his belly full of the bad tasting water, and think about the other things he wanted. Like food.
Food! He was hungry. The water he had just drunk wasn't enough to fill him. He wanted to eat. He sniffed the air hoping there might be something to eat nearby. And there had been. He could smell it. There had been food here in this cave. Strange food. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that it wasn't here any more. And he was hungry. He needed to hunt. To chase something down. And eat.
First though he had to get out of this cave. That proved easy enough as he used his nose to sniff out the path he had taken to get here and retraced his steps. He found a tunnel, a small narrow place that he didn't like, but which opened up below. And when it did he found himself in some strange place full of narrow trails running alongside a river that stank. Again something inside him was yelling something at him – sewers – but he ignored it. He just followed his own scent along the trails until eventually he found one that led up and away from the stinking river.
