Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 32: Long Stories

{Rebellion sits in the heart of every Empire. Those unwilling to serve, unwilling to see what is necessary for the common good. Why do they fight back so, I wonder. Why do they think they can win when history has repeated itself so many times before? The strong will always defeat the weak. It is how kingdoms are born. It is how kingdoms are felled.}

-Sahandra of the Aht Ahta Kell Mora, an excerpt from "The Princess".

"No, not this place again."

In the dream, Libro stood before the throne room. Even with the many braziers scattered about, the air still held a deathly chill, cold stabbing at his lungs, his every anxious breath steaming out in ghostly vapor. Before him a mask held fixed in the air, full and featureless, pale as cream. It watched silently and he felt its gaze skewer him like twin lances of fire.

"What do you want from me?" Libro demanded, his voice impossibly loud, reaching even to the towering rafters above.

"You have betrayed me," The mask said, its voice as soft as snowfall and as hard as grinding stone.

"I serve the throne!"

"You have betrayed me!" The mask emphasized more harshly this time.

I serve...," but it was so hard to speak now. The cold stole at Libro's warmth, made his lips heavy, every word an impossible task to finish.

"The chieftain girl deceives you, captain. Even now she plucks at your heart strings, toying with your thoughts, turning you against me."

"Elba?" It took everything Libro had to say her name. "Never!"

"You would call me a liar then?" The mask moved closer now, he could feel it. Like an invisible line being crossed, its presence burned at his flesh like fire, scouring at his soul. His legs gave out from the pain and he crumpled, hands thrown over his face in desperation. "Me, who pulled you back from death's door not once but twice!" The voice grated out. "Me, who gave you everything your heart desired!"

"No." Libro forced the word out.

"Look at you, still acting like a pathetic child! Even after five years you've yet to become the Captain I need! You are weak, spineless, a gullible buffoon!" The mask hurled insult after insult down on Libro, each like an arrow piercing deep into the one part he could not protect himself against. His own self worth. That had been torn apart ages ago, ripped asunder since his birth and dragged on with each passing year. The mask's words just made that more physical, more painful, more real.

"That is quite enough." A new voice silenced the barrage of insults. The mask went mute, fire flickering low amongst the braziers. A shadow fell upon the throne room, creeping down the walls and gathering around Libro. Slowly the pain began to ebb away. He stood up, legs wobbling, seeing the shadow grow, take form, towering over him.

"No!" the mask screamed.

"Yes!" and the shadow lifted up an arm, one ephemeral hand held out. "Time to wake up!"

A blast of cold water shocked Libro from his dream. He screamed, gasped, spluttered, scrambling on hands and knees to get up. The throne room faded and he found three blank stone walls and a set of iron bars staring back at him. That, and Scarface's ugly sneering face. The man tossed an empty bucket to the side, moving to snatch a set of iron keys from his belt.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

Libro frowned at him before answering. "Not really. Had some bad dreams."

"Sounded like it. Kept muttering in your sleep. No amount of shouting would wake you either. Had to use the bucket. Least you'll smell better."

Libro glanced at the growing pool of filth and gore dribbling down his feet. "There is that."