“Why General Volzona...what a pleasant surprise. I thought you had escaped before we caught you.” Chase smiled, her faintly accent tinged voice silky sweet and deadly. It had been almost thirty years since she had met with the Veruna in person. Back then, he had been a smirking, over-confident figure, brandishing his firearm as if it would keep him from all wounds. She remembered wiping the smirk from his face as she leaned over him, her sword pressed to his throat. She could have killed him then if it wasn't for Leoth's well-meaning voice in her ear. He had to be tried. It was the only way to secure a surrender. Chase often dreamed of that battle, and the Loesian General's subsequent escape.
Her voice seemed to stir the soldier from his stupor and he peered up at Chase's looming figure with a look of apprehension. He shuddered and hunched into himself. Chase's smile widened further.
“Carpeth... Can't forget a beauty like you, nah.” A stutter that sounded like nervous laughter. His words slurred over each other, muffled and nasal. Chase had to concentrate to understand. “Oh nah, Chase Dulin...Came at the right moment.”
“Did I?” her voice lost the amused tone and dropped flat.
“If anybody knows anything...it's me. The orthot wanted me dead before you showed.” Now she knew that was laughter. His shoulders shook and for a moment he was lost in his amusement before he coughed, blood spattering his uniform even more.
“Did you know he can only control you so many times before you can't get hit under the spell? Takes years, but it's true. He was angry because I wouldn't bend. And if we went down, then I say to the Pits with him too.”
“How do I know you're not lying?” Chase sneered.
Volzona seemed to consider this question for a moment until he came up with an answer. His wilted form was gaining some strength. He seemed to find his courage, however misplaced. “I don't think I'd want him dead so much as I do. If the King had only listened to me--”
Chase pulled him forward by the collar of his uniform jacket. He gave a strangled sound of pain, tugging back from the rough treatment. Chase didn't let go. She held on tighter to the fabric, leaning her face inches from his own. The chains locking his hands to the chair crashed together like terrible bells.
“I don't care for your ideas of success! Tell me what you know and you won't die a slow death.” She threw him back into the chair and he groaned. Volzona sneered up at her, glaring from beneath his hair. He forced himself upright, breath harsh like gravel through his mouth. She could see him hesitating; contemplating going back on his word. But then a smile broke out on his face, and he slumped a little again, like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Must give the victor her spoils, I guess.” He took a glance over at the others, there arms hanging out of the cage and reaching. “Dadarius, or Darus as I remember he called himself, made a pact with the King at the start of the war. They had several plans in place: kill the Queen, start a war, win the war, and take the Orb. I was given the skeleton of it, and that's what I give you. Darus was always raving about how he would take over Alsales and let Danfert share in it. His main goal was getting that Orb, but neither he nor Danfert could. When I led the attack several months ago, it was the closest they ever got. Not close enough, obviously.”
Chase stared at him with a look of disgust. “That doesn't tell me much.”
“Go find Danfert.” Volzona rolled his eyes. “But I forgot, you killed him.”
Chase snatched the knife off the metal table and plunged it into the Veruna's shoulder. Volzona screamed, straining against his shackles and failing to get anywhere. She twisted the blade, earning more half-screams and whimpers. But he wouldn't beg. She saw him bite down on his lip to keep from embarrasing himself any further.
“I did. And I'll kill you too.”
Volzona swallowed audibly. He was shaking in earnest, beads of sweat sliding along down his temple. “Never doubted. The great Veruna hater herself wouldn't spare the life of even an innocent, surely.”
Chase stiffened, stalling in her actions, confusion marring her face. “What are you talking about? You're no innocent.”
“No, not me. The raids on the villages, the leveling of cities—you left Loesis a wasteland of dead bodies and broken homes.”
“You would have done the same!” Chase growled, tugging him forward again in her anger.
Volzona groaned, but didn't let up. He kept his gaze locked with Chase's and didn't waver. “Maybe. But then, at least, both our homes would be shambles. Not that it matters now. That Ildrat that poisoned my country will poison yours too. And I think he hates you more than he hates us. There's nothing stronger than self-hatred.”
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