The Crimson Campaign

He dragged his hand along through the dirt until he could see it. Moved a finger, then another. They were all still working. That was something, wasn’t it? Those cuts on his knuckles. Where had they come from?

Oh. Right.

Those were from Kresimir’s teeth.

Strong hands lifted Taniel to his feet. He swayed back, nearly falling. His arms were lifted, wrists bound together by strong cord.

“Make it tight,” someone said. “He’ll be up there a while.”

Up where?

Taniel’s arms were lifted above his head. He felt the rope between his wrists snag on something and the guards stepped away. Taniel’s legs gave out beneath him, but he didn’t fall.

“One, two, pull!”

Taniel’s whole body jerked as he was lifted from the ground by his wrists.

“One, two, pull!”

Panic caused Taniel to flail about with his legs, but there was nothing beneath him but air. He looked up.

He hung from a hook fastened to an immense beam being lifted perpendicular to the ground. Teams of men pulled on ropes to raise the beam until it pointed at the sky.

The vision of Julene, nailed to a beam in the middle of the Kez camp, her hands gone at the wrists, haunted his memory.

He vomited down the front of himself.

“One, two, pull!”

It took the workers some time to get the beam in place. Taniel’s back finally hit the wood and his feet scrambled for purchase on the beam. There was none to be had.

He was facing the Adran camp. In the early dawn light he could see soldiers gathering on the front lines, pointing and talking. A few officers were examining him through looking glasses. He closed his eyes, unable to bear looking back. Those men he’d thought to lead to victory would see him here now.

He had to warn them. What had Kresimir said last night? He planned to burn the army, and Mihali with it.

A rasping noise reached him. It was guttural and base, but it had a pattern to it. Slowly, Taniel realized someone was laughing.

“Two-Shot,” the voice said.

Taniel craned his neck.

There, not much farther than spitting distance to his left, was another immense beam. They must have moved it up closer to the lines during the night. And still hanging there, the seared stumps of her wrists crossed in some kind of sick entreaty, was Julene.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here, Two-Shot,” she said.

Taniel looked away from the Predeii.

“Sorry, is it my voice? They haven’t given me water in two months.” She stopped and cleared her throat. Another long, raspy laugh. “The problem with not being able to die is just that.” A cough, and then another laugh.

Taniel closed his eyes, hoping she would stop talking.

“You look good, Two-Shot,” Julene said. “I mean it. Look at me. Kresimir tortured me for weeks before he hung me up here. I’m curious why he didn’t do the same to you. Don’t worry. A couple of weeks and you’ll be good as new. Me, though. I’ll never heal. Kresimir made sure of that. I haven’t seen a mirror lately, but tell me, can you still see that charming scar on my face?”

Had she gone mad from hanging from the beam for so long, unable to die? Taniel’s arms were beginning to ache from the strain of holding his weight. They could only get worse as long as he was up here. He finally turned to look at Julene.

She was hideous. Most of her hair was gone. Her skin, which once looked young and supple, was now cracked like old leather. Her face had been particularly savaged — the tip of her nose cut off, most of her teeth gone. She grinned at Taniel, as if she knew what must be going through his mind.

There was madness in her eyes.

“Charming as always,” he said. He looked up at his hands, tied about the wrist. They were starting to hurt more now. He tried lifting his legs but gave up after several moments with a groan — half pain, half anger.

“The pain doesn’t go away,” Julene said. “Even after months. Even after your arms are numb it will still throb deep down in your shoulders. I find” — she moved her head slowly to one side, a look of agony moving across her face — ”that switching the arm that holds all the weight gives you some relief.”

Taniel closed his eyes. Would he last that long? Would he still be alive in months, watching his country burn, unable to do a thing?

From the Adran army he saw a rider heading toward the Kez lines with a white flag billowing above him.

A call for truce? Or had that traitor Hilanska finally convinced the General Staff to surrender?

Taniel began to struggle harder. He had to get off this rope.

Tamas found Hailona in the mill’s basement, an old granary. It was the only private room in the place. It smelled of dry old wheat, the scent dusty in Tamas’s nostrils.

Hailona looked up when he knocked on the door frame of the open door. Ruper, the butler, was just inside. He stood when he saw Tamas.

“You killed my little brother,” Hailona said.

Tamas knew that wasn’t fair. Knew he wasn’t in the wrong. Sabon had known the risks of being one of Tamas’s soldiers. But Tamas also knew that convincing Hailona of that would be next to impossible.

“I need your help.”

“Go to the pit. Get out of my sight.”