Weapon of Fear Read Online Free

that.  Thank the gods that
Archmage Duveau is on my side .  “Lead on.”
    The
long, dimly lit stair led to a dungeon worthy of nightmares.  The thick air
reeked of refuse and excrement.  As Arbuckle followed the knights down a
corridor, he spied within several of the barred cells forlorn figures huddled
upon straw-strewn floors without so much as a blanket for comfort.  His gut
roiled.  He understood that the empire had enemies, and that those arrested for
crimes must be punished, but such squalor was inhuman.
    They
turned a corner.  A crowd of knights and squires stood before a doorway, facing
a line of imperial guards who blocked the entrance.  Though the heavy double
doors were open, Arbuckle couldn’t see through the mass of people to the room
beyond.
    “Milord
Prince.”  Sir Fineal held up a forestalling hand.  “I must warn you that the
scene is…not pleasant to view.  The…interrogation chamber is a grim sight.”
    “Very
well.  I’ve been warned.”  Arbuckle clenched his jaw, resolving to be stoic,
though the sickly scent of blood now permeated the air as well.  “Proceed.”
    “Yes,
Milord Prince.”  The smell grew stronger as they approached the line of imperial
guards.
    One
turned to call into the room.  “Commander!”
    The
knights and squires moved aside, but the imperial guards held their ground.
    “Move
aside for your lord prince,” Fineal said.
    Arbuckle
peered past the guards, the light of a dozen torches gleaming on the burnished
metal racks, spikes, chains, and other implements that furnished the room. 
“Good Gods of Light!”
    “Sir
Fineal, I told you that—”  Commander Ithross stopped as he caught sight of
Arbuckle, and his eyebrows shot up, then he bowed low.  “Milord Prince!  I
didn’t expect you to come down here.”
    “Sir
Fineal has told me that my father is dead, Commander.  I must see him.” 
The guards stepped aside at Ithross’ wave.  Arbuckle entered, looked with
revulsion at the burnished machines of torture, then turned his gaze to the
imperial guard commander.  “What is this place?”
    Ithross
swallowed forcefully.  “The emperor called this his interrogation chamber,
milord.”
    “You
mean torture chamber, don’t you?”
    Ithross
lifted his chin and gazed steadily back at the prince.  “His Majesty always referred
to it as the interrogation chamber, milord.”
    “And
who conducted the interrogations?”  Arbuckle forced the words out, afraid that
he already knew the answer.
    “I
don’t know for certain, Milord Prince, but it’s rumored among the guards and
knights that…” Ithross glanced questioningly at Sir Fineal and received a nod
of acknowledgement in return. “…that the emperor took a…special interest in the
practice.”
    Arbuckle
felt ill.  He’d known for years that his father was a heartless tyrant.  That
Emperor Tynean Tsing had actually participated in the torture of prisoners,
however, turned his stomach.  Arbuckle fought to maintain his composure,
speaking through clenched teeth.
    “Show
me my father, Commander.”
    “Yes,
milord.” Ithross led them around the room’s thick central pillar, and a cordon
of guards parted. 
    Blood… 
It was everywhere, the scent so thick that he could taste it.  Arbuckle stopped
at the shore of a congealing crimson lake strewn with carnage.  He had watched
the blademasters spar many times, always amazed at their skill and stamina. 
Trained to be the best, inured to pain, blessed by their god, and pledged to
defend their charges or die.  These five had died.
    “Good
gods…”
    A
figure to his left stood from a crouch—Master Corvecosi, the imperial healer—and
Arbuckle saw rich blue robes at the man’s feet.  He knew instantly who lay
there.
    Father …  Arbuckle skirted the thick pool
of blood, compelled by an unnerving yet unrelenting need to see this man whom
he had thought he knew.  Closer, he couldn’t avoid the blood, and his
shoes squelched in the