Part 26 (1/2)

”Yer woman?” There wasnat an ounce of reproach in Magnusas voice. ”I never heard that they caught her, and no reason why she shouldnat have. The d.a.m.ned Varinskis were too occupied with crus.h.i.+ng our bones to bother with a woman.”

Warlord closed his eyes in relief.

Karen was safe.

Then, lifting his head, he said, ”Listen to me, Magnus. Iall get better fast. And you know what I am. Iall get you and the other men out of here; I swear I will. . . .”

Karen struggled, trying to get away from the horror of this vision, but it gripped her and wouldnat let her go.

Four days Warlord had been down here. He knew that because once a day someone shoved food and water into their cell. Bobbie Berkley had died on the floor beside them; the guards had left him for twenty-four hours before they dragged his body away. The heat, the dark, the sense of being trapped in the womb of the earth with billions of tons of rock pressing all around like a grave . . . it never changed. Nothing changed down here.

Magnus twitched and groaned in his sleep, and once when the guards shone a light in the cell, Warlord saw his injuries.

He hadnat just lost an eye. Head lost half his face.

His fault. It was all his fault.

Now Warlord heard the guards at the door, and jerked away at the light.

”Heas fine. Get him up and send him down.” Warlord recognized that voice. Innokenti Varinski.

He broke into a cold sweat.

As if he were a puppy, the Neanderthal picked him up by the collar. ”I see you remember me.”

”I remember you.”

”I am Innokenti Varinski. I am your conqueror.” When Warlord said nothing, Innokenti shook him. ”Say it.”

”You are Innokenti Varinski. You are my conqueror. ” Warlord told himself he obeyed because it was the smart thing to do. But more than that, he obeyed because he was afraid. Afraid of this beast who had defeated him in battle, hurt him as he had never been hurt before, and who would delight in the chance to do it again. And again.

Innokenti sniffed him as he would a moldy piece of bread. ”You smell funny . . . for a human.”

”I need to wash.” Warlord did not need this ma.s.sive Sauron imitator to figure out they were related by blood. As long as Warlordas abilities were secret, his men had a chance.

”Would you like us to draw you a bath? And put rose petals in the water?” Innokenti grinned and showed a mouthful of black and missing teeth.

”When did the Varinskis start rotting like normal men?” It was a fair query, maybe a little rude, but still a fair query, for the deal with the devil had guaranteed them long lives without the problems that plagued mere mortals.

But evidently Warlord had hit a sore spot.

The Varinskias smile disappeared. He smashed his forehead against Warlordas face until blood spurted from Warlordas nose and mouth. ”You insolent little p.r.i.c.k. Iall show you rot.” He flung him against the wall, picked up the guardas steel prod, and slashed Warlord across the back.

Warlord screamed. Five times the rod fell. Then Innokenti threw it across the room. He hit a guard, who shrieked and fell to the ground. ”Chain his hands and feet and put him to work.” Picking Warlord up off the floor, the Varinski said, ”Iam Innokenti Varinski. When you die, remember me and curse my name.”

”Innokenti,” Karen muttered. ”Innokenti.” The scene s.h.i.+fted and . . .

Days and months without end, without light, without enough food or water.

Warlord didnat have the breath to curse Innokenti Varinski. He didnat have the strength or the will. The depths of the mine sapped his energy. The work shattered his body. The constant loss of his men, one after another, broke his will.

This was his fault. His fault. His fault.

Once a month Innokenti arrived with his steel rod and beat Warlord. At first Warlord didnat know why head been singled out. Had Innokenti realized that Warlord was related to the hated rogue branch of the Varinskis, the Wilder family?

Then Warlord recognized the source of Innokentias frustration. No other man could have lived through a single one of those beatings, yet every month when Innokenti returned, Warlord was working again.

Innokenti would take his rod and beat Warlord, and one day would succeed in killing him, for only another demon could kill a man bound by the pact with the devil.

But not yet. Not yet.

If Warlord hadnat neglected his duty to his men and spent all his time with Karen, he and his men would still be free. Yet the memory of Karen was the only thing that kept him alive. When the guards had beaten him with the steel rod, and he could no longer imagine what suns.h.i.+ne and fresh air felt like on his skin, he would bring Karen to his mind.

Karen, glimpsed on the train from Kathmandu.

Karen, in her tent in the depths of night.

Karen, clutching him on the motorcycle as they raced the rockfall.

Karen, dancing in the meadow, kissing the ground, naked under the waterfall.

Karen, tied to the bra.s.s bed and writhing with pleasure . . .

Sometimes, she was so close he could smell her scent, touch her skin, hear her voice crooning to him.

That was when he knew he was hallucinating. Karen would never croon to him . . .

In a yearas time half his men were left. They died while blasting the rock. They died in cave-ins. And worse, one by one, they lay down and died of starvation, from the beatings . . . and because all hope was gone. Nothing he said made a difference. They didnat trust him anymore.

Even Magnus had given up.

He had to lead them out. They couldnat wait any longer. He couldnat wait any longer.

Because he had given up, too. He didnat realize how low he had sunk until one of the guards poked him with a steel rod and said, ”Hey, t.i.tty-baby. Guess whoas coming tomorrow? Your best friend, Innokenti Varinski. And you know what heas going to do? Heas going to beat you half to death. Better get ready to scream, t.i.tty-baby.”

Warlord sank to his knees and cried. Cried with fright, cried for the release of death, cried and begged the guard to kill him, when he knew it was impossible.

The guard laughed and poked him again. ”Do I look insane? If I killed you, head kill me. No, t.i.tty-baby, Iall just wait to hear you sing soprano tomorrow.”

The tears leaked down Warlordas cheeks all the way through that guardas s.h.i.+ft and into the next. None of his men would look at him. Magnus wouldnat talk to him. He had let them all down . . . and still he cried.

Then, with the change of the guard, opportunity presented itself. He didnat recognize ita”until Karenas voice snapped in his mind, Pay attention!

Two guards instead of the usual four. Both were drunka”somewhere up above the mining company had thrown a party. One guard pa.s.sed out and never heard the roar of the drill before it pierced his chest. The other fell from Warlordas swift and slas.h.i.+ng chain.

”See, boys?” Magnus said. ”He did it.” But his voice was weak, and he collapsed when he tried to collect the weapons.