by T. A. White
Her fingers tightened around Tate’s throat, becoming a vise, almost but not quite cutting off her oxygen. Tate jerked against her bonds, every instinct she possessed saying run. Fight. Escape. It was useless. Ulfric’s arms held firm.
The Red Lady tilted Tate’s head up to meet her eyes. Once she’d met the Red Lady’s gaze, it was impossible to look away, to blink. She felt mesmerized by the deep amber of the woman’s eyes. Pressure built in her head, stinging tendrils of power moved across her skin from the woman’s grip, seeking to find a way in to invade and conquer.
Tears leaked from Tate’s eyes as pain ripped across her nerve endings. It felt like someone had shoved their hand in her head and was scooping bits and pieces of her out with the expertise of a butcher. A scream built in her chest, begging to escape but locked inside her throat.
Her mind gibbered no, no nononononononono. Get out get outgetoutgetoutgetout.
Abruptly, she was released. She plummeted to the ground, her muscles slow to respond, landing awkwardly on her back with her arms under her. Her shoulders protested as her arms were almost wrenched from their sockets. Gasping, she rolled to her side and threw up.
“Nothing!” the Red Lady said as she turned away. “I got nothing.”
Exhausted, Tate watched the edge of the woman’s gown as she paced back and forth in front of her. She really needed to assign the Red Lady a name. Preferably a light, fluffy one that made her sound ridiculous. But it was hard to think, thoughts slipping away. The muscles in her body trembled as if they’d been overused, instead of simply locking up.
“How can there be nothing?” the woman muttered. “Get her up. We’ll try this again.”
Ulfric grasped Tate by the shirt and hauled her to her feet, supporting her when her legs would not. When the Red Lady reached for her, she fought, squirming against Ulfric, not wanting those slimy tendrils invading her mind again. He clasped her in a bear hug, making it easy for the Red Lady to grab her head and tilt it back.
Tate closed her eyes. Don’t meet her eyes. She wouldn’t make this easy for them.
“Open her lids.”
The iron hold on her shifted, and she was thrown to the ground. A weight came crashing down before she could move, pinning her arms to her side. She kneed him in the back but couldn’t get enough leverage. Rough fingers held her eyelids open, nearly blinding her in the process.
Just like that, the Red Lady caught her gaze. Her body froze, unable to fight. Again the stinging tendrils picked at her mind, but this time they were rougher. Forcing their way through and shredding Tate’s mind in the process.
Almost immediately they pulled back and Tate’s body went lax.
“How can this be?” the Red Lady hissed furiously. “Nobody has been able to resist me. Nobody.”
“My lady.”
“What!?” she yelled.
“Perhaps your other methods would work better on her?”
The lady was full of frantic energy as she paced, unable to stand still. At Ulfric’s suggestion she paused, tilting her head to one side. A smile graced her face and she clapped her hands. “Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. Get her up, and strip her shirt off.”
It was difficult to think as he pulled her up and unlocked the manacles. He had her arms secured to a chain dangling from the ceiling before she could do more than feebly kick at him. Her body didn’t move like she wanted, and her head lulled on her neck.
It was obvious from the ease with which he moved that he had done this many times before.
He jerked on the other end of the chain, and her arms rose with a jerk until she could barely support her weight on her tippy toes. She bit back a groan, not wanting to give them the satisfaction.
She rubbed her face against her shoulder wanting to wipe the tears away for the same reason. Streaks of red dotted her shirtsleeve when she was done. Not tears. Blood.
A streak of pain radiated from her back, as Ulric punched her right where her kidney would be. She and the chains swayed from the force. Another blow landed right below her ribs. She grunted but refused to scream.
“That all you got?” she taunted. Not wise, but she was unable to just hang there.
He walked in front of her and smiled, right before driving his fist into her stomach. She retched unable to breath, her lungs seizing and stomach spasming.
“It’s like a dance,” the Red Lady said from her seat on the throne. She proped her head on her hand and smiled. Tate hadn’t seen her move away.
While she was busy relearning how to breath, he ripped her shirt off, sleeves and all, leaving only her breast band.
“Let’s start with this.” He held up a thin cane, hitting it against his palm twice, the crack echoing throughout the chamber. He turned to the onlookers. “How many lashes until she screams?”
“Five,” one man shouted. “No, ten,” another cried. Others shouted their bets and money exchanged hands.
“Let’s see who the winner is, shall we?” Ulric said moving behind Tate.
Bastards every one of them. She would survive this, and when she did she’d make every person who’d place a bet pay. Ulric had turned so she faced the Red Lady, so she could watch Tate’s expressions while she was being tortured. The court had migrated to the dais to have a better vantage point as well.
Tate studied them, separating her mind from her body as Ulric gave a few experimental cracks of the cane. She noticed every detail of her audience so that when it came time, she’d know she had the right ones.
There were nine of them, mostly men, but two women besides the Red Lady. One of them at the back kept looking away and edging behind the others. Tate looked closer and saw a familiar profile. It was only a glimpse, and she couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Darren, the first mate on the Marauder.
She blinked rapidly. That couldn’t be, Tate had watched them set sail.
Ulric slammed the cane into Tate’s back. Her body twisted with the pain, and she bit her lips to contain the scream. Fire licked up and down her skin as two more blows landed.
Tate sucked in a breath and gripped the chain tight in her hands. She’d felt worse, she told herself. Not so bad.
Displeased with her silence, Ulric drew his arm back and whipped her again, a couple of the blows landing on her butt and thighs. A few of the lashes broke the skin and a steady trickle of blood slid down her skin.
She was distantly aware of the crowd laughing and jeering, their words indistinguishable in the haze of pain. She gritted her teeth and nearly sobbed when another lash landed. She blinked away the tears and glared at the onlookers. Laugh it up, she told them silently, because this wouldn’t last forever. When she escaped every one of them would pay.
She took all the pain and channeled it into a ball of fury and hatred until she almost looked forward to the next blow, knowing it added fuel to her rage. The ball expanded, filling her up until her flesh felt too small to contain what was inside. Just a little more. Heat began to rise from her skin as a red haze filled her vision. She jerked from the force of another blow, a nasty smile stretching across her lips.
She threw her head back, shuddering as her body convulsed, the muscles on her back rippling as if something moved beneath her skin. Almost, came the entity’s thought. Its presence inside Tate grew, edging her out, as it took over. She didn’t mind because with its advance the pain got further and further away. Another blast of heat wafted from her, intense enough that the metal on her wrists warped.
“Stop,” the Red Lady suddenly shouted.
Ulric stopped with his arm half drawn for another swing and turned to the Red Lady who watched at Tate with a powerful greed.
“Her arm.” The Red Lady pointed at Tate. “What’s that on her arm?”
Ulric twisted Tate’s body until he could see the arm the Red Lady was pointing to. “Great Saviors rescue us,” he whispered. He shot her a wide-eyed glance, fear crossing his face.
The tattoo had changed once again, perhaps fueled by the rage engendered in
its owner. The wings had unfurled and its back had arched, the tail swishing madly across Tate’s arm.
Tate hung there feeling bereft as the entity’s presence faded.
She lost track of time briefly and felt a mild surprise when the Red Lady was suddenly before her reaching up to touch her tattoo in awe.
“Dragon-ridden,” the lady whispered.
“Impossible,” someone from the crowd said. “There hasn’t been a female dragon in recorded history.”
The tiny dragon on Tate’s arm spat a small spark of flame when the Lady tried to touch it. To Tate, the flame felt like the summer’s sun, but the Red Lady screamed when it touched her fingers. They came away red and already blistering.
Tate felt a tired sense of satisfaction as the woman started crying. For someone who loved dealing out pain, she certainly couldn’t handle it very well.
“Think this is funny?” the lady asked shrilly. “Nobody hurts me. Not anymore. I won’t let them.” She drew back a hand clad heavily in jewels and swung it, slapping Tate across the face, splitting Tate’s cheek with one of her gaudy rings. “Do you still think it’s funny?” She backhanded Tate, this time busting her lip. “Not so funny now? Is it?”
Tate licked the blood off her lip and stared at the woman putting every dark and grim feeling she’d had since awakening with her memory gone into the glare.
“Oh aye. I think it’s hilarious,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve entertained you with my blood. It’s only fair you do the same with yours.”
The Lady grabbed Tate’s face holding it in a cruel grip as she brought Tate closer. Her face was inches from Tate’s as she examined her work. “Those eyes. Such a fierce spirit.” She ran a finger over the cut on Tate’s lip and smeared the blood over the rest of her lips until Tate wore a facsimile of bloody lipstick. “So brave, so courageous, always promising things you can’t deliver. I dislike people like you the most. In the end you all scream and beg for mercy like every other worthless creator’s spawn. It’ll be a joy to watch that spark die inch by inch, leaving behind nothing but a hollow husk of broken self.” Her grip tightened further until her nails drew blood, and it felt like Tate’s jaw would crack. “That won’t be enough, though. Before you go, I’ll rip that dragon out of your body and I’ll finally have the kind of power that means no one can ever harm me again.” The Lady smiled sweetly at Tate. “They’ll bow before me. You’ll die knowing that you gave me the key to all that I desire in this world.” She patted Tate’s cheek gently. “You won’t be laughing then.”
The Red Lady released Tate very slowly stepping back and wiping one hand on her dress. Tate watched, holding very still, unable to do anything but hang there, useless. She really wished she had this dragon everybody was making such a big deal about. Maybe then she wouldn’t be hanging in these chains waiting for the next round of torture.
“Cut her down,” the Red Lady told Ulric. “She needs to be healthy for what I have planned.”
He nodded and released the chains. Without their tension to support her, Tate collapsed in a heap on the floor. She barely had time to register her sudden freedom when she was dragged back to her feet. Her back screamed in protest. She couldn’t quite bite back the moan of pain the movement caused.
Ulric supported her weight as she tried to gather her strength. She was weak. Frightfully so. Luckily for her, he didn’t bother securing her arms behind her back this time. For that she was grateful. One, because this was a much more comfortable position for her shoulders after the abuse they’d taken and two, well let’s just say a lot could be done even with a heavy chain binding her hands together.
“Bring the cubs this time,” the Red Lady said as he began to haul Tate out of the room. “They can take that one’s place in tonight’s entertainment.”
Tate hoped Dewdrop and Night had managed to escape by now. She’d done all she could to ensure it. Now it was up to them because she had no intention of going back to that cell.
It became an act of will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The only thing that kept her hobbling along was the knowledge that Ulric would just drag her if she didn’t. Distantly she tried to keep track of their path. If—no when— she escaped she’d have to know which way to go.
Her strength came back surprisingly quickly as Ulric forced her through the tunnels. She moved slowly and stumbled occasionally, letting him think she was still weak. She had very little energy, and she hoped it would be enough to create an opportunity for escape.
A sudden scream echoed down the tunnels. Ulric stopped abruptly, yanking on Tate’s shoulder. She cried out at the sudden pain that lanced through her, falling to her knees, trying to breath past it. She whimpered as she cradled her right shoulder.
“Quiet,” Ulric snapped as he looked up and down the hallway.
She stayed bent over on her knees as he listened. Several screams joined the first. He flinched as a loud boom vibrated in the stone at their feet.
“What’s that?”
Tate chuckled grimly. “Why don’t you go and find out?”
He kicked her in the back. She sprawled forward on her stomach gasping at the sharp explosion of pain, not able to draw enough breath to even scream properly. Only a thin hiss of air escaped her in its place.
She gasped, tears escaping her as the pain receded enough that she could think again. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve got a big mouth.”
While they were arguing, a figure ran down the tunnel towards them, casting terrified looks behind him. He tripped and scrambled to his feet almost instantly. Ulric laid a hand on the short sword at his waist.
“Cedric? Is that you?” he asked.
The man, noticing them for the first time, ran to Ulric and took hold of his shirt. “We have to get out of here. They’re coming.”
“What? Who’s coming?”
“It’s them. The monsters. They attacked the outer chambers. The Red Lady and her guards evacuated to the Night Market but the rest of us were cut off,” he babbled. “I have to get out of here!”
He took off running down the corridor. Ulric watched him go before turning back the way he’d come, indecisive as he wrestled over what to do. Licking his lips he backed down the corridor, self interest winning out over any sense of duty.
“Ah, the creators can take them,” he said turning his back on Tate and taking off in the direction the other man had gone.
“Wait!” Tate cried from the floor and rattling her handcuffs. “What about me? At least let me go.”
No response came as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
“Son of a donkey’s whore,” Tate swore as she pulled desperately at the chains. She got to her feet unsteadily, her legs and backs protesting the movement. “I will never, ever come down to the tunnels again.”
She limped in the direction the other two had run off in. It wasn’t easy with her body protesting each step. Her pace was painfully slow.
Running footsteps approached her. She listened as they came closer.
“Sweet Saviors protect me,” she whispered.
With a renewed desperation, she limped forward. There was nowhere to hide. The tunnels continued endlessly.
She trained her eyes on the curve in the tunnel Cedric had come from. Maybe she’d be lucky, and it’d be some of the Red Lady’s follower.
The footsteps paused as they got to the turn. Tate’s heartbeat sped up and jumped into her throat when a shape turned the corner.
“Dewdrop?” she gasped. She couldn’t believe it, but there he was in all his skinny glory.
“Found her,” he shouted over his shoulder before speeding down the hall to her.
Night bounded after him, carrying one of his cubs in his mouth. He was followed closely by a man cradling the other cub.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in disbelief. She thought they would have taken the quickest route out of here possible. It’s what she would have done.
“Had to r
escue your crazy ass.” Dewdrop knelt beside her as he used his lock picks to manipulate her manacle’s lock. One hand slipped free and he went right to work on the other. “You didn’t think we’d leave you behind, did you?”
Yeah. She kind of had. Dewdrop was a thief, and Night had only met her a few hours ago. Theirs wasn’t exactly the type of relationship where you stuck your neck out for the other. She knew most people weren’t the type of altruistic do-gooders who’d help a person for no other reason then it was the right thing to do. The only reason she had turned Ulric’s wrath on her was because it had involved children.
Her silence was answer enough for Dewdrop. “Normally you’d be right,” he told her finishing with the other handcuff and pulling her to her feet, steadying her when she wobbled. “Can you walk?”
She nodded an affirmative, though she wasn’t entirely sure. Her wounds hurt more now that her panic had subsided. The muscles in her back were tight and every time she moved, a wound reopened, bleeding sluggishly.
“What changed?” she gasped, stumbling. She would have fallen if Dewdrop hadn’t caught her.
“Whoa, there. Lean on me.” He put her arm around him, supporting her weight as they shuffled down the hall after Ulric. “Let’s just say your actions inspired us to similar heights of stupidity.”
Tate forced her legs to move faster almost upsetting her balance again.
“Slow down.” Dewdrop braced his arm around her waist. “You’ll fall.”
“We need to get out of here. I think the Tsuchigon attacked, and I don’t want to be around to end up as a snack for their young.”
We know, Night said. We’re the ones that brought them.
“You?”
He nodded.
“That must be some story,” she said.
Dewdrop grunted and shifted to a get a better grip on Tate, brushing against one of her injuries. She groaned.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “They did a number on your back, though it’s not as bad as I expected.”
“Yeah, they really showed a lot of mercy,” Tate said sarcastically. She grunted when he stumbled, jostling her. “Will you stop moving around?”