“You should not have come back. You are a fool,” the burned man said.
“A fool who has you trussed like a hog,” Orka said.
“Drekr said you would be a pain in the arse,” he muttered.
“Your name?” Orka asked him.
He glowered at her.
“The axe,” Orka said, holding her hand out to Mord. He passed her the burned man’s fallen weapon. Orka took it, thumbed the blade and then cut a strip of linen from the burned man’s tunic. She folded and rolled it, grabbed his face and started stuffing the linen into his mouth, filling it. He struggled and twisted, strings of spittle flying from his mouth, but Orka’s grip was iron.
Only when his mouth was full to bursting and he was making choking sounds did Orka stop. She showed him the axe again, and then chopped into his knee. There was a crack and a spurt of blood.
His body spasmed and he retched and gagged, thrashing and panting muffled screams, shaking and thrashing like a trapped animal. His body seemed to swell, his face twitching, and Orka saw the teeth protruding from his mouth change shape, growing longer, sharper. She grabbed his flailing arms and looked at his fingers. The nails were darkening, growing.
“What is happening to him?” Mord hissed.
“He is Tainted,” Orka said. “Sometimes they cannot control the beast in their blood, especially when experiencing sudden pain or shock. He is one of Rotta’s kin.” She spat on the ground.
“Rotta, the rat?”
“Aye, the betrayer.”
“What shall we do?” Mord said.
“We wait. He cannot escape. He could gnaw through his bonds, but I will smash his teeth with his own axe if he tries to do that.”
The burned man slowed in his thrashing, breathing hard.
“Your name,” Orka said, holding his gaze.
He glared at her, shook his head and snapped his sharp rodent teeth.
Orka raised the axe and chopped into his other knee.
The burned man’s eyes bulged as he hissed and gagged, flailed and floundered in his bonds, banging his head against the wall. Bloodied froth dripped from the linen in his mouth where his long teeth gnashed into his lower lip, blood dribbling down his chin.
Orka waited.
Lif made a sound behind her.
“What?” she said, looking up at him. “Is anyone coming?”
“No,” Lif said with a quick shake of his head. He was staring at the burned man, eyes wide and his face pale.
“Harden your heart,” Orka growled at him. “He is not a man any more. He is a stepping stone on the path to our vengeance. To me finding my son. Now see to your task.” She turned her back on Lif and focused back on her prisoner. He was weeping, snot hanging from his nose, but his eyes glared hate and defiance. Orka showed him the axe again, dripping with his blood, and then began to pull one of his boots off.
He convulsed, kicking and writhing, but Mord held him and Orka tugged his boot free and held his foot on the ground. She paused, looking at his pale flesh. A tattoo wound around his ankle and calf: a curled, knotted serpent. She frowned and raised the axe, then looked the burned man in the eye.
“I can do this until the sun comes up,” she said, then looked at the sky. “Long enough to go through your toes, your feet and up to your stones. Answer my questions, or this will only get worse.”
The burned man was weeping. He sagged, like a sail with no wind, and nodded.
“Call for help and you lose your foot,” Orka said and tugged the linen from his mouth.
“What is your name?”
“Skefil,” the burned man said, his voice shaking with pain, or fury, or shame.
Probably all of them.
“Where is Drekr?”
“He will rip your head from your shoulders,” Skefil wheezed.
“I would like to give him the opportunity to try,” Orka said. “Where is he?”
“Gone,” Skefil muttered.
“Gone where?” Orka said.
Silence. A hate-filled gaze.
Orka raised the axe.
“North,” Skefil blurted. Another twitch of Orka’s wrist. “To the Grimholt Pass.”
“Why?” Orka asked him.
Skefil clamped his teeth tight.
Orka swung the axe, blood and toes sprayed and Skefil sucked in a gasp of air, ready to scream. Orka pressed the axe into his mouth, the hooked blade drawing blood at the corners. Skefil froze, a tremor passing through him.
“I can make your mouth bigger, if you wish.”
A long, slow-tremored exhalation.
“Good. Why is Drekr travelling north?” Orka asked. She removed the axe blade a handspan.