Read Online The Mad God's Muse (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 2) by Matt Gilbert - Free Book Online
Authors: Matt Gilbert
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There
was no reason to believe the schedule was consistent at all, and
many to believe the reverse, if his suspicions of late were true.
He had decided after a while
that it was his captor's intent to drive him to suicide, a
convenient means of circumventing the Elder’s orders that he
not be killed. It was, he conceded, a cunning plan, one that might
actually succeed if he allowed it. Resisting at least gave some
sense of purpose, and so he counted the days as best he could.
At first, he had assumed he
would be found soon enough. Surely his mother was looking for him,
or Maranath? But as the time passed, stretching by his reckoning to
months, his doubts had grown. Perhaps he wasn't even in Nihlos
anymore. Rithard might have even told them he was dead.
Aiul felt his skin burning as
rage swept through him at the thought of his treacherous second. My
own cousin! How could we have ever trusted his tainted Prosin blood? The rage passed as quickly as it came. Who knows if he had
anything to do with it? He might be dead, or imprisoned as I am.
Aiul
felt as if his head were swelling toward explosion. A brief, bizarre
symbol flashed in his vision, brilliant red. He had seen it many
times before, and knew what it meant, but by the time it came, there
was no changing things.
He
leapt from his cot and hurled the mattress to the floor, his voice a
meaningless roar. It was frustrating to have nothing to smash but
bedclothes. He spied the heavy metal tray from his previous meal and
seized it up, then began battering it against the cell door.
“ Who are you?” he screamed. “What do you want from me?”
It was not the first time he
had resorted to a tantrum to attract attention. The guards, while
not visible, were indeed nearby, within earshot at least, because
they responded quickly to his outbursts, and this time was no
exception.
The guards did not speak, and
covered themselves and their faces with armor, but they were clearly
different men at different times. There were discrepancies in size,
posture, and movement. Some seemed apathetic, others amused, and one
actively hostile. It was Hostile who came down the stairs, his face
hidden, but the rage in his deep blue eyes gave him away.
Aiul pressed his head against
the metal door and glared at the guard through the eye slit.
“Release me, dog!” he growled.
Hostile slammed a mailed palm
into the door. Aiul jerked backward, teeth ajar from the impact. The
guard chuckled darkly, which was more reaction than Aiul had seen
from any of them before.
Wary, Aiul looked through the
slit again, careful not to actually place his head on the metal.
“Mei as my witness, I'll kill you for that some day!”
The guard chuckled again, but
there was no humor in it, nor in his eyes. “Why stop with Mei?
Why not make a deal with the Dead God, eh?” He kicked the
door, setting it ringing again. “You're going to need more
than one god to get out of here, Traitor. “
“I will!” Aiul
roared, slamming his fists against the door from his own side in
fury. “I'll bargain with Elgar if it means I taste your
blood!”
“The name's Salastin,”
the guard sneered. “For when you and your Dead God are ready.”
He turned and walked back up the stairs, calling over his shoulder,
“The Traitor lives!”
Aiul watched him go in blind
fury. He pulled at the edges of the eye slit as if he might peel the
metal back with his bare hands, howling his hatred through clenched
teeth, the muscles in his arms standing out like cords. For long
moments, he was transfixed, a demonic statue, teeth bared and
a-grind. Then he heard a sharp report from his left jaw, and it was
enough to bring him to his senses. The strange, familiar symbol
flashed in his vision again, then faded.
Mei, I've cracked a tooth!
This could get very bad for me indeed.
I would make an most
excellent murderer. Rithard
smiled at the irony of the thought, now that he had set his mind to
just that. But it is true. And I will get away
was no reason to believe the schedule was consistent at all, and
many to believe the reverse, if his suspicions of late were true.
He had decided after a while
that it was his captor's intent to drive him to suicide, a
convenient means of circumventing the Elder’s orders that he
not be killed. It was, he conceded, a cunning plan, one that might
actually succeed if he allowed it. Resisting at least gave some
sense of purpose, and so he counted the days as best he could.
At first, he had assumed he
would be found soon enough. Surely his mother was looking for him,
or Maranath? But as the time passed, stretching by his reckoning to
months, his doubts had grown. Perhaps he wasn't even in Nihlos
anymore. Rithard might have even told them he was dead.
Aiul felt his skin burning as
rage swept through him at the thought of his treacherous second. My
own cousin! How could we have ever trusted his tainted Prosin blood? The rage passed as quickly as it came. Who knows if he had
anything to do with it? He might be dead, or imprisoned as I am.
Aiul
felt as if his head were swelling toward explosion. A brief, bizarre
symbol flashed in his vision, brilliant red. He had seen it many
times before, and knew what it meant, but by the time it came, there
was no changing things.
He
leapt from his cot and hurled the mattress to the floor, his voice a
meaningless roar. It was frustrating to have nothing to smash but
bedclothes. He spied the heavy metal tray from his previous meal and
seized it up, then began battering it against the cell door.
“ Who are you?” he screamed. “What do you want from me?”
It was not the first time he
had resorted to a tantrum to attract attention. The guards, while
not visible, were indeed nearby, within earshot at least, because
they responded quickly to his outbursts, and this time was no
exception.
The guards did not speak, and
covered themselves and their faces with armor, but they were clearly
different men at different times. There were discrepancies in size,
posture, and movement. Some seemed apathetic, others amused, and one
actively hostile. It was Hostile who came down the stairs, his face
hidden, but the rage in his deep blue eyes gave him away.
Aiul pressed his head against
the metal door and glared at the guard through the eye slit.
“Release me, dog!” he growled.
Hostile slammed a mailed palm
into the door. Aiul jerked backward, teeth ajar from the impact. The
guard chuckled darkly, which was more reaction than Aiul had seen
from any of them before.
Wary, Aiul looked through the
slit again, careful not to actually place his head on the metal.
“Mei as my witness, I'll kill you for that some day!”
The guard chuckled again, but
there was no humor in it, nor in his eyes. “Why stop with Mei?
Why not make a deal with the Dead God, eh?” He kicked the
door, setting it ringing again. “You're going to need more
than one god to get out of here, Traitor. “
“I will!” Aiul
roared, slamming his fists against the door from his own side in
fury. “I'll bargain with Elgar if it means I taste your
blood!”
“The name's Salastin,”
the guard sneered. “For when you and your Dead God are ready.”
He turned and walked back up the stairs, calling over his shoulder,
“The Traitor lives!”
Aiul watched him go in blind
fury. He pulled at the edges of the eye slit as if he might peel the
metal back with his bare hands, howling his hatred through clenched
teeth, the muscles in his arms standing out like cords. For long
moments, he was transfixed, a demonic statue, teeth bared and
a-grind. Then he heard a sharp report from his left jaw, and it was
enough to bring him to his senses. The strange, familiar symbol
flashed in his vision again, then faded.
Mei, I've cracked a tooth!
This could get very bad for me indeed.
I would make an most
excellent murderer. Rithard
smiled at the irony of the thought, now that he had set his mind to
just that. But it is true. And I will get away
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