Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 18: Answers Laid Bare

They chained Jaina to the Menhir stone outside town, thatch roofs and wood walls still smoking in the angry gloom. She didn't put up a fight when they did it, only smiled as the cold metal looped around her and locked shut.

"That'll keep you." Kaylon Vausk heaved out a sigh. "Oughta leave you here too. Let the birds pick at you for a bit. How does that sound huh, you farking mad bitch?"

"Sounds like a dream come true, Vausk." Jaina gave him a sly wink. "You really know how to treat a lady."

"Fark yourself!" There was a loud crack as he slapped her hard across the jaw, blood trickling down her nose.

"Enough." Olaf stepped between the two of them, eyeing Kaylon like a child caught stealing. "We did not come here to beat and belittle our prisoner. We came here for answers."

" The only answers we'll get out of her is how best to torture people and how much blood she likes to put in her ale." Kaylon took a step back however, keeping his hands to himself. "Besides, she's a Forsworn, not a damned Chosen. She doesn't know a damn thing."

"Chosen?" Regis asked, perking up at the word.

"Those hand picked by the High King to serve as his honor guard," Olaf told him.

"Ah, sounds a lot like the Vangen."

"Like who?" Vausk scratched at this temple. "Some folk I should know about?"

"No," Regis said flatly, hoping to change the subject. "No one important. "Least, not anymore."

And yet the memories came bubbling back to the surface regardless. Twenty five years ago he would have found himself exactly in Jaina's place, killing rebels as the elite guard for a higher power. Now he was standing on the other side of the wall, fighting for a cause he barely believed in, all in the name of revenge. What the fark was he even doing here in the first place?

Someone laughed, and all three men turned their heads at once. Jaina slithered up against the Menhir stone, barely staying upright with her one functioning leg, the other foot flopping uselessly beside her. What had started as a chuckle quickly turned into a mocking sneer as she openly mocked them, her red rimmed eyes gleaming mirror bright in the forever gloom.

"What's so damn funny," Vausk demanded.

"You are," Jaina said. "All of you! You're like a pack of mongrel dogs snapping at one other over the last bone. It's beyond pathetic."

" Why don't shut your mouth before I shut it—,"

"Oh, go shut your own damn door for once, Vausk!" The woman snarled back at him, the rest of the man's words dying in his throat. "You pathetic idiot. For ten years I've chased you down, believing you knew something that could ruin everything the king had created for us. And do you know what I've learned after these ten long, agonizing years? You don't know a farking thing. You're just as clueless as the rest of the rebel scum. Wanna know how I know? Eh, Vausk?"

The man swallowed, his knobby throat bobbing. "How, Jaina?"

"Because you never realized that I've been the King's Chosen for years now."

Regis stood there pondering cluelessly over her words, but could tell it had an immediate effect on the others. Vausk went absolutely rigid. Even Olaf, in his stoic nature, went visibly pale.

"You mean to tell me..." Vausk trailed off as he reached out with a trembling hand and gently wiped the blood from Jaina's nose, his eyes widening in terror as it smudged like dust against his fingertips.

"That's right. I've been given the highest honor by our King. I've been blessed with the same gift given to him by his Witch." Her eyes turned the color of glacial ice as the glow of the torchlight washed over her. "Now he sees what I see and knows what I know. There is nowhere left to hide, Olaf the Lightbringer."