Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Magnus moved next to her. “Can you do this?”
She took a breath and wished she had not: the odor suddenly turned to a foul stench. “Yes.”
“All the cells are the same,” Magnus said, raising the torch high after stepping into the first cell, chasing the darkness to crouch in the corners. “Sketch one and you sketch them all.”
“Nay,” she argued. “That is not so, I wish to see every cell.” And she did, her disgust growing as she sketched and thought of the people who had suffered here. A small window set high in the thick wooden door would have been the only source of light in each cell—if the wall torches remained lit. Otherwise, complete darkness engulfed the cells.
The foul odor grew stronger as they reached the end cell, and Reena realized the stench came from the opening beyond the six cells. Magnus blocked the entrance, and when she moved to walk past him, he held out his arm, preventing her from going any further.
“That room needs no mapping.”
“If I am to do a thorough map of the keep, all rooms must be included.”
“It is not for you to see.”
“I must,” she insisted.
He was blunt. “It is where prisoners were tortured.”
“All the more reason to record it,” she said and pushed his arm away to enter the foreboding room.
Reena froze with her first step into the room and then slowly turned in a circle to view the horror in front of her. Metal cages hung from the ceiling and a large cauldron occupied the middle of the room, cold ashes cradling the bottom. A rack with metal cuffs and chains secured to top and bottom stretched out like a bed near the cauldron. Chains with attached metal cuffs hung from metal rings in the wall, and metal implements of torture lay rusted on the ground.
She closed her eyes for a moment and could almost hear the painful screams, the pleas of mercy and the smell of blood and burning flesh.
How could a man inflict such pain on another?
Magnus shoved the torch in the wall sconce and walked up behind her. “Survival has its horrors.”
“Nay,” Reena said, a tear in her eye. “There is no excuse for man’s inhumanity to man.”
“Life needs defending at times.”
“Defending, aye.” She pointed to the various torture devices. “But this is not defending, this is pure horror to humanity. And I will record every speck of it.”
She set to work drawing and examining the room in detail so that her recording of this horror prison would be exact. When an hour had passed, Magnus said, “Enough.”
“I am almost done.” Her hand had not stopped sketching and did not slow down.
“You are done.” He stilled her hand with his. “No more, Reena.”
She glared at him. “I will finish here, and then I will sketch something of beauty to rid me of this horror.”
“Will you be able to recognize beauty after viewing horror?”
Her answer came easily. “Aye, I see beauty every day when I look upon your face.”
Magnus stepped closer to her, his hands going to her waist. “You find beauty in the Legend? Some would think you insane.”
Her hand dropped to the side, holding on to her piece of charcoal and drawing paper. “They do not know the Legend as I do.”
He moved closer. “You know not the Legend, nor do you want to.”
She looked in his dark eyes and how they glistened with light from the flaming torches. Light and darkness. Two men in one. “I know he is a fair man.”
His laugh was haunting. “Fair? I have seen men tortured—” His silence was sudden, as if he thought better of his words.
She wanted to know more, though her legs trembled. He wore no iron helmet now, but it was the Legend who stood in front of her and who rested his strong hands on her hips.
She found the courage to ask. “Was it difficult to watch?”
His answer sent a cold shiver down her spine. “I was the one who ordered the torture.”
This was the Legend, the fearless man who instilled fear in his foe and friend alike. And this was the man she worried that she might be falling in love with? Perhaps she was insane.
His hands tightened at her waist. “You know me not, Reena.”
“I would like to know you and understand you, and I will begin by drawing you.”
“You still see beauty in me?” He seemed surprised.
She touched his cheek. He had inflicted suffering, but had suffering been inflicted on him? “I see beauty and much more.” She traced a finger over his cheekbone. “Pride is obvious.”
His fine lips quivered in laughter, though it turned to a smile.
She squeezed his chin. “Stubbornness.”
“Strength,” he argued on a laugh.
She corrected him with a gentle brush of her finger across his forehead. “Strength.” She moved to the corners of his eyes. “Insight.” Her finger trailed down to his mouth and slowly traced his lips. “Humor, honesty, gentleness and . . .”