Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) by Addie Thorley (best beach reads .txt) 📗

I flash a vicious grin. “That’s fine, because neither will you.”

Kartok’s nostrils flare. He makes his way over to the wall, fiddling with the knobs I can’t for the life of me find. “This can be as simple or as difficult as you choose,” he says as he pulls a lever. Instead of opening the glass passageway, a panel in the floor slides and an unremarkable tub rises into the room. Water sloshes over the edges and the bitter stench of Zemyan magic is overwhelming. It reminds me of wet horses and moldy tents. “You can cooperate and avoid further pain. Or you can suffer.” He points to the tub. “Either way, I’ll extract the information I need.”

“Is this the only method of torture in Zemya? Or are you that unimaginative? The hot-spring water doesn’t even suppress my ice.”

“But it does affect your body. And a weakened body cannot wield volatile power.”

“To what end? Why not kill me and be done with it?” I don’t actually want to die, nor do I plan to, but if I can’t worm my way out of here, I’d rather a quick death than weeks of suffering as the hot-spring water slowly melts me from the inside out.

“I need your help. And if the hot spring is not effective, we must explore other options.”

“I won’t help you with anything,” I retort.

“You don’t have a choice,” Kartok says. “Where will the Kalima warriors go now that Sagaan has fallen?”

I shake my head and smirk at him. “Hunting them is a waste of time. Your hot spring won’t strip their powers either. They may not be as strong as I am, but they’re not as weak as you—or your goddess.”

I brace for a livid slap, but after a tense moment, Kartok settles back on his haunches and appraises me with unnerving amusement. “I never pegged you as the noble and forgiving type….”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have no reason to protect the Kalima. In fact, you should want to punish them for abandoning you. This could be your revenge. Show them what happens when they cross you.”

“They did what needed to be done for the well-being of Ashkar,” I grind out, even though abandoning me was not in the country’s best interest, and I’d love nothing more than to see every one of them thrown into this Zemyan prison pit. But unlike those double-crossing cowards, I am actually thinking about the empire. And, like it or not, Ashkar needs their powers. If the Kalima are captured and killed, we won’t have a prayer of ousting the Zemyans.

“Give me the rendezvous point,” Kartok insists.

“Clearly, the Kalima don’t want me to join them.” I hold out my arms for emphasis. “Do you honestly think they’d meet anywhere I’d know about?”

Kartok’s scruffy jaw tightens. He scowls down at me as if I’m a cockroach in the rice bin. “How pitiful—to be so thoroughly despised by your own soldiers.”

“Every commander is despised. You’re delusional if you think you’re any different. No one likes being told what to do. And no one will follow a lenient, indecisive leader. We must be brutal. Exacting. Your soldiers wouldn’t hesitate to leave you on the steps of the Sky Palace, wrapped in ribbons for King Tyberion, if that’s what suited them best.”

“You forget your Sky King is dead.”

The word zings through me like a bolt of Eshwar’s lightning.

“Wasn’t it your duty to protect him, Commander?” Kartok prods. “You should have seen his body … mutilated on the frosty cobblestones.”

Those final, terrible moments in the treasury flicker in and out: Varren helping the Sky King onto the buttress. The excruciating slowness of his steps. The chunk of marble careening through the charcoal sky. The haunting sound of his scream.

“Stop!” I shout.

“Cooperate!” Kartok shouts back. “How many Kalima warriors are there in total?”

I say the first number that pops into my head. “Ten thousand.”

“Lies!” Kartok stomps closer, forcing me to retreat until my back is literally against the wall. “There aren’t half so many! You would have ended the war long ago.”

“If you’re so certain of our numbers, why ask me?”

“Do not test me, girl.”

“Or what? What else could you possibly take from me?”

Kartok holds out his arms, palms up, and two forms rise into being, like the plumes of dust created by thousands of marching warriors. The particles shift and gather and slowly form the faces of a man and a woman. He has shiny waxed hair and a pipe clenched between his teeth. She wears soft curls and a proud smile. My parents say my name and reach for me. Unaware of a third form looming behind them. The hooded figure raises a blade—the blade strapped to Kartok’s hip.

“Look out!” I scream. But it’s too late. The steel has already bitten through their necks.

“Your parents live in Sagaan, do they not?” Kartok shouts over my wails. “A city now occupied by Zemya….”

“If you harm a single hair on their heads—”

“Where will the Kalima go?” Kartok roars.

My eyes are still glued to the severed heads of my parents, rolling around my feet. I nearly concede and relay every potential rendezvous point I can think of, but thankfully, my tongue knows better. It sits heavy and thick in my mouth. My teeth clench tighter; Kartok won’t spare them, not even if I cooperate.

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, Kartok’s bony fingers close around my neck and he drags me across the throne room. I don’t even have time to fill my lungs before he shoves my head into the overflowing tub.

He plunges me in and out. Harder and faster. Until I don’t know if the burning in my chest is from the scalding hot-spring water or lack of air.

At last, Kartok flings me to the floor. “I will find a way to defeat you. I will see Zemya exalted. Ashkar’s reign of terror over the continent ends now. With me.”

When I try to respond, I cough up mouthfuls of putrid water