The Will-Breaker

The halls of the servants' wing were not brightly lit at this hour, only a few lamps spaced relatively far apart, especially compared to the candelabra and chandeliers of the rest of the palace. Akna didn't come through this wing very often, but she'd been in it enough times now to know her way around reasonably well, so the dim light wasn't a problem. In many ways, it was a boon.

She passed a pair of guards on patrol, who bowed to her briefly before continuing on their way, as did a night servant who hurried passed shortly after.

It wasn't hard finding Godran Frellan's quarters. As one of the more senior servants, he got a set of rooms to himself and his family. With his wife dead, it would be just him and his son, Lucas.

Stopping by a small window a short distance away, Akna looked out. There wasn't much to see. It was practically pitch-black outside, the moon and stars hidden behind cloud cover. A few snowflakes landed on the window and slid down, but it was otherwise mostly impenetrable darkness beyond.

Zandrue wouldn't like what Akna was planning to do, but Sinitïa's actions had already ruined Zandrue's plans. It was time to do something.

As she started to turn away from the window, a slight glint caught her attention and she looked back. Was that a shape moving outside? A black shadow against black darkness. It wasn't easy to tell, but it looked wide. There was no clue what had caused the glint of light, but the shape was now standing mostly still. A part twitched though. A wing? Possibly.

The Isyar liked the cold, snowy weather, so it was possibly not that odd one of them might be out and about at this time. Whoever it was was on the taller side for an Isyar. Mikranasta was the tallest of the Isyar here, so it might be her. She was definitely weird enough to be out in the middle of the night.

Akna waved. Hopefully, whoever it was, Mikranasta or otherwise, didn't find it weird that she was up at this time either.

Whoever it was must have seen her. She would be much more visible to the figure than it was to her. Unless the individual was looking the other way, but it didn't seem that way to Akna. But as best she could tell, the figure didn't wave back.

Almost certainly Mikranasta then, or maybe Hedromornasta. Jorvan or Feviona would have waved back.

With a shrug, Akna walked away from the window. As long as they didn't try to stop her, it didn't matter who it was.

She approached Godran's door. Most servants didn't get locks on their doors, but as a senior servant, Godran was one of the exceptions. Luckily, as head of security in the palace, Akna had a master key for every lock. She wasn't supposed to use it in this way, but to hell with that.

She unlocked the door as quietly as she could manage and opened it just enough to slip through, trying to make sure as little of the light from the hall got inside. As dim as that light was, in the almost totally black room beyond, it would be like sunlight.

She gently closed the door, then stood there unmoving while her eyes adjusted to the additional darkness. Like when she closed her eyes, Chica's head exploded in front of her, but she was used to that now. It was nowhere as intense as it used to be.

Slowly, shadowy edges revealed themselves in the darkness, but Akna waited while they became more distinct. There was no way she would allow herself to mess this up by tripping over something in the dark.

In front of her, Inhuan perished at Ses-Zeltzin's spear—something she hadn't witnessed in real life. But she saw it sometimes nevertheless, an image constructed from what Meleng had told her. She wouldn't let it impede her here. In fact, she could use the rage it built in her. She could channel it against Godran.

Gradually, the shadowy edges revealed themselves as a table and some chairs to her left. To her right, a rug and fireplace. The room seemed to be a combination kitchen, dining room, and greeting room, much less ostentatious than the rooms of the nobility, but still more than typical for most servants.

There was another door almost directly across from the entrance. Akna wasn't sure how many rooms Godran had, but it was probably only two or three. If it was only two, then the other one would be the bedroom, and he must share it with his son.

That was a complication. She didn't relish the idea of doing this in front of the boy.

Maybe she should turn back. She could easily get out with no one the wiser that she had ever been here.

No. This had to be done. Watching him had achieved nothing so far. He almost certainly knew he was under suspicion and was not likely to do anything to give himself away.

She could try to find a time when the boy wouldn't be around, though. But that would have to be during the day, when it would be too visible, with too many other people around who might interfere.

No, the boy was a Darker too. Even if it was not by choice, the only way he could be freed of that was to see the reality of what being a Darker meant.

She edged across the room to the other door, opened it a crack and peered in.

As she'd suspected, it was a bedroom with two beds. Each had a single figure asleep in it. They were wrapped in blankets, so it wasn't immediately apparent who was who, but one was somewhat smaller than the other, so that was presumably the boy, Lucas.

There wasn't much else in the room: a wardrobe with a mirror, a locker at the foot of each bed, and a small table along the wall by a shuttered window. On the table was an unlit lantern, and a few personal grooming tools.

Drawing her dagger, Akna crept towards the bed with the larger figure.

Godran Frellan was lying on his left side, his mouth slightly agape, a small bit of drool hanging from his short beard. She placed the edge of the dagger's blade against his throat, providing just enough pressure that he should feel the cold of it, but it wouldn't cut him—not if he stayed still.

With a soft gasp and slight cough, his eyes shot open and his head moved slightly. The dagger nicked his throat, drawing just a drop of blood. He gasped again and went still.

Akna glanced at the other bed. The boy hadn't moved, so she looked back at Godran and held a finger to her lips. "Shh. Don't want to wake the boy."

He glared at her, his lips twitching.

"Cry out and you'll be dead in an instant. I doubt it will be long enough for anyone to hear you, except for your boy. And then I'd have to kill him. You don't want that, do you?"

He continued to glare at her.

"You can speak quietly if you want."

"So when your day assassin failed, you come in the night," he hissed.

"I'm the one who saved you."

"Then why come at me now?"

"Because she had the right idea. She was just the wrong person to do it."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"How do you know I can't overpower you?"

While he was tall like a lot of Foliths, he was also thin and wiry. She was almost certainly the stronger—by a wide margin. Then again, Darkers sometimes had strange powers, like that one Zandrue called Mister Speedy, but she doubted Godran was one of those, and if he was, it was too late anyway. "If you could do that, you'd have done it already."

He grabbed her arm and pulled.

As she'd expected, he wasn't nearly strong enough to even budge her.

With her free hand, she grabbed his wrist, yanked his hand from her arm, and twisted it. He cried out, and his body shook. The dagger nicked his throat again. She continued to hold his wrist, twisted to just before the point of breaking.

His face contorted in pain, and after a moment, he hissed, "I yield! Please, release me."

She let go of his wrist, but kept the dagger by his throat.

He took several deep breaths. "Thank you."

"Father?"

Akna groaned and looked over to the other bed, where the boy had sat up. "Your father's fine for the moment. Move from where you are, and that will change. I have some questions for him, and he's going to answer them."

The boy nodded slowly.

"I won't answer your questions," Godran said. "You're going to have to kill me in front of my son. Can you do that?"

"Yes." She hoped she filled that answer with conviction because, truth was, she wasn't sure she could do it, no matter what she had told herself coming in here.

"Then do it." He closed his eyes and lay flat on his back. "Kill me. I will not resist."

Akna repositioned the dagger so that it was near the artery in his neck, but she wasn't going to kill him yet. It was time to see how well he could hold to his convictions. "You're a Darker. Who are you taking orders from?"

His eyes turned to look at her, but he otherwise remained still and silent.

Akna pushed the dagger a little closer, but not yet breaking the skin. "Who is giving you orders?"

Still he remained silent, though beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Good. He was afraid, so maybe he would break eventually.

She looked over at the boy, who was staring in their direction. It was too dark to tell his exact expression, but she was certain he was afraid too. She looked back down at Godran. "Maybe it's not you I should threaten. Maybe I should threaten your boy."

His lips twitched and his shoulders shook. "I will not answer your questions."

Akna sighed and looked over to the boy again. She really didn't like threatening a child, even a Darker child. Maybe this was the wrong thing to do.

"He can't answer you," the boy said. "It's impossible."

Akna loosened the pressure of the dagger on Godran's neck. "What do you mean?"

"Plavistalorik did something to his mind so he couldn't. I think the new one did something too."

"Lucas!" Godran hissed.

Akna pressed the dagger against his neck again. "Quiet." She looked to Lucas. "And they didn't do anything to you?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know enough. The most I could do is point you to my father, and he can't point you to anyone."

"Lucas!"

"I said, quiet," Akna said, not looking at Godran. She really should have anticipated something like this. She knew what Plavistalorik could do to a person's mind, knew it all too well.

"I'm sorry, Father, but what can I do? She'll kill you."

"You will say no—" Godran's words cut off into a gargling sound. His hands went to this throat, even as Akna withdrew the dagger. He didn't seem to notice as it sliced his palm. He just clutched at his throat, making more gargling noises.

"Father?" Lucas jumped from his bed and rushed to his father's side.

Akna stood up and took a few steps back. "It wasn't me. I…"

Godran appeared to be choking, his eyes bulging and his bloody hands still grabbing at his neck like they were trying to remove something there.

"Father!" Lucas cried. He glared at Akna with tear-stricken eyes. "This is why he can't talk."

But he hadn't talked. Gods, like that mattered. She'd done enough to trigger whatever Plavistalorik had done to him. Or the new one. Lucas had mentioned a new one, but now was hardly the time to ask about that. All she could do was watch Godran choke to death.

She had never seen anyone die like this. It was a slow and inefficient way to kill someone. It was also horrifying.

It felt like ages before his hands fell from his neck. He continued to gurgle a moment longer, but then went completely still and silent, his eyes still staring widely but lifeless.

Lucas was trembling, but otherwise sat there unmoving and quiet.

"I'm sorry," Akna muttered. "I…"

Godran's body gurgled again and his hands shot back up to his throat.

Lucas jumped off the bed. "Father?"

Godran's hands moved about rapidly, and he made more gurgling noises, all quick and rapidly repeating. But there was something off. The sound was… Akna couldn't put her finger on it. It was just wrong somehow.

But there was something else that took a moment to become clear in the dark room. The dark stain of the blood on his neck and bedsheets was retreating—back into his hand. A moment later, he withdrew his hands, uncut, from his neck and started speaking. It was a strange language Akna didn't...no, he was speaking backwards.

What the hell was happening?

"I will not answer your questions," he said in the correct order.

Lucas rushed forward. "Father?"

"Lucas? What's…?" Godran sat up and looked from Lucas to Akna. "You...you moved. And Lucas, you...I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Akna muttered.

"Try a new approach," a new voice said.

An Isyar was standing in the doorway, but not one Akna recognised. She was tall for an Isyar, almost Akna's height, similar in that regard to Mikranasta, but much younger. She looked about Akna's age, which meant she was probably a few years older. Her outfit was like Feviona's, though it looked darker in colour. Holding her hands in front of her chest, she spun them briefly around each other.

"I...I don't understand," Akna said.

"Try another approach," the Isyar repeated. "Try new questions that might not trigger the spell in his head. Quickly. You have little time."

"I...uh…" Akna gulped and looked back towards Godran. "Um…" What was she supposed to say?

"I will not answer your questions no matter what you do to me or Lucas," Godran said.

"Right...but you...I mean…" Shit. What the hell was going on here?

"Please leave him alone," Lucas said. "I told you he can't tell you anything. Plavistalorik—"

"Lucas! Enough! I—" Godran stopped suddenly and his hands shot to his neck once more as he started to choke again.

"Damn," the Isyar said.

Then, the scene reversed again. Godran's hands retreated and he spoke backwards again. It was shorter this time before he resumed forward speech. "I will not answer your questions."

"A new approach. I cannot manage this a third time." The Isyar spun her hands in front of her chest again.

"Just go!" Lucas yelled. "Leave him alone!"

With a sigh, Akna nodded. "We'll go." There really wasn't any other choice. She turned and pushed past the Isyar back into the outer room, then back into the hall, stopping by the window she'd paused at earlier.