Convict Fenix

by Alan Brickett

  The time it took, the suffering, was all worth it if he could acquire this power of which She spoke.

  Her fingers touched him. Cold and gentle, they eased the building pressure under his flesh.

  “Brace yourself, dear one.”

  He did, though it was useless. He had received this same pain every day for over a hundred and thirty, and there was no way to truly be ready for it. The needle lanced down into his skin, in and out like a pinprick, and with it came the horrifying intensity of the fire that flooded him.

  Without the intricate frame to hold him immobile, he would have thrashed and shuddered so much that She would never have been able to continue. As it was, the magical designs and wards barely held him still. He felt that every muscle, every limb, and nerve, should be trembling, but they could not.

  He screamed, muffled by the bit She had sewn into his mouth to keep it there. To help it remain, it was braced to the iron blocks on either side of his cheeks. The sound echoed around the chamber to join the smell of his burning flesh.

  The needle went in again, and though the mark was tiny, it felt like a red-hot poker driven all the way through to his chest.

  She had explained that each dip of the needle would be smaller than the size of one of his pores.

  It pricked again if you could call the scorching agony of lava thrown over his head a prick.

  With each move, She joined together the material left under his skin into another tiny rune. Hundreds of them would together form a larger pattern, which would establish a larger one still.

  Only the final overall pattern would be clearly visible to the naked eye. Within that more magnificent design would be meticulous crafting of interwoven glyphs.

  Each one had to be precise, or the entire effort would be wasted.

  This was why he could not move, for fear of disrupting Her work, and also why, after She completed a single run, this one just over a dozen pricks, She stopped. He was panting, sweat from his shuddering pain soaked through the frame and dripped onto the floor to dilute the blood he shed. The mix of fluids misted across the stained rock, seeping in brighter or darker hues over the inlaid metal lines of the spell configuration.

  “Very good. You impress me, Fenix,” She whispered into his ear, a light flick of Her tongue touching the sensitive lobe. The sensation sent a thrill through his battered body.

  “Thank you, mistress,” he replied hoarsely, muffled considerably by the bit.

  She sauntered around his head, and he could only watch Her shapely calves and petite bare feet step heedlessly in the blood and sweat. He had always thought Her pale skin was somehow enhanced by the sight of blood on it. Even in his broken state, the view aroused him. She must have known the effect it would have.

  She twirled the needle adeptly through slim fingers, the long shaft of unknown material slithered from one finger to the next.

  As it spun, the harmony of pain crested and waned in his neck, the resonance a poignant agony which he endured for its paltry comparison to the actual pricks themselves. He clenched down on the bit in his mouth, a slow moan escaping him that was unable to cover the sound of Her delighted chuckle.

  How She enjoyed the torment, how She would be savoring every moment.

  Fenix delighted in that in his own way.

  Her hand entwined in his long white hair, then gripped it hard even though he was immobile. She bent over, the motion bringing more of Her naked body into view, the petite breasts with their plump nipples obviously excited by more than just the cold air.

  Then Her face, the beautiful face of his lover came into view.

  The red lips smiled seductively, enjoyment evident on Her pale cheeks, the neat rows of teeth glimpsed behind her lascivious smile.

  Nubile and forlorn, innocence wrapped in flesh, clothed in rapture.

  Her long red hair fell to drape alluringly around her heart-shaped features, and from between the strands, Her green eyes sparkled with a paramount intelligence and sinful lust. They changed hue depending on Her mood, from the deep Emerald of gems buried in the heart of mountains to the clearer muted color of snake’s skin from predatory jungles.

  She bent her knees to crouch so he could see Her without straining his eyes.

  That it also brought Her full body into view, with all of Her feminine attributes, was also a calculated move, he knew. Squatting on the blood-slicked stone, white skin smeared with his juices in a wholly different way than when they had sex.

  She was as tall as him, although for a being such as Her the body was irrelevant. She could change it at will. She just preferred to look like this; at one time She had mentioned it was very close to Her true form, the one She had been born with.

  Other beings were right to fear Her, for Her intelligence, Her patience, and diligence in everything that She did. A genius at magic, but also at the ways of the universe, in the manipulation of primordial forces and people alike. She had been named many things, and for the past few centuries enjoyed the title of witch hag.

  She liked the dichotomy of the words and maintained Her pristine beauty as a contrast to what others would describe as vile or ugly.

  “It took me decades to get even one of these glyphs right, did you know that?” She purred. “The beings who suffered and died to get even a single string of runes correct numbered in the hundreds. You, my love, you will be the culmination of tens of thousands of deaths leading up to this point. If you survive and are not added to their number.”

  He shivered at the intensity of Her words; he believed them and luxuriated in Her attentive gaze. That he was the one to embody Her work, quite literally, was satisfaction on a level so profound he could not even begin to describe it.

  The planning, the sheer attention to detail required to bring this work to fruition, the mind behind that kind of effort tantalized him, evoked within him the desire to learn everything he could to match Her.

  She knew it, too.

  It was one of the reasons She had chosen Fenix and trained him so well.

  “Yes, my love, good. Push through. There will be many more weeks, another year or more, and then you will be complete. The Mirrored Kaleidoscope will make you into so much more than I have done already. Everything we did to prepare you for this will be worthwhile, you will see.”

  He believed Her, sincerely and with every fiber of his being. In the past four years, She had modified him, changed him from what he had started as. She said that his race was the template which She created for just this purpose, that he was the culmination of breeding lines and centuries of careful selection.

  Added to that were Her advancements, Her teaching of him, other painful experiments to adapt him to the level necessary to be ready for this one mighty application of Her spell.

  Sometimes he caught the edge of that intensity and focus in Her physical interaction with him. That She possessed such strength and held back all of the time was evident in the split seconds when She nearly broke him in half with ardor and desire. Not desire for him and his body, but yearning for him to complete Her work.

  He could imagine that a mere mortal would have been overwhelmed long ago by the experience, but not he, he would thrive.

  Day 56…

  The world swam back into view from the edges of his vision, Fenix stumbled a little in the new location.

  He was now standing next to a small obelisk with a circular hole in the top, made of granite laced with some form of black rock.

  “It usually gets you that way the first time,” Quelina commented.

  She stood calmly off to the side while he was in a half crouch and ready for action. The strange lurching sensation may have been a side effect of the Wanani design, or perhaps it was the difference in the users.

  Either way, it wasn’t very comfortable.

  He glanced over at her and then around the clearing, ringed by trees and near substantial undergrowth, the place was remarkably well kept. Probably by this Joanne person he was here to kill.

  Ther
e was no immediate danger, so he relaxed, slightly.

  “Thank you, Quelina. I appreciate the effort.”

  It paid to be polite, especially since she was still alive and he may see her again.

  She winked at him. “So long, lover. Pop around again when you have a good need going.”

  Quelina looked him up and down significantly, then touched her hand to the stone and disappeared in a whirlpool of colored light.

  They had spent quite a bit of time satiating various needs, the experimentation they had gone through with each other’s particular gifts kept them busy for quite a while. Then she still had the nerve to use his Vitae for the teleportation trip. But then, she had pointed out that she needed it.

  Quite the manipulator she was and Fenix considered it to be in his best interest to let her believe she had come out on top of things.

  Between the protection of the clutch of eggs and the fact that he would likely remove a significant problem for her, she most certainly was getting the better part of it. At least from her perspective, but he knew what he would gain, and it was worth it.

  There was a cough from behind, and he spun around. Seated on a rock nearby was Convenient, his rusted armor and dirty mantle looked the same as before. The dull brown hair of his head and beard were creased, along with his tanned skin, by the smile he shone at Fenix.

  “So, my friend, lover was it? Did you enjoy your negotiation with the Seductress?”

  Fenix scowled. “Have no fear, I got what I wanted and then some. I also seduced the Seductress, I’ll have you know.”

  Convenient got up and brushed off his tabard. He gave no hint as to how he had gotten there and been unnoticed by Quelina.

  “Ah, yes. But that is, of course, a part of her unique charm isn’t it; to make her clients believe she wanted them just as much.”

  Convenient waved for Fenix to follow and headed out of the clearing.

  “But I did, really. Let me tell you about it,” Fenix said, walking quickly to catch up with the old knight.

  Convenient just grunted. “I’m sure, go ahead. Spin me your tall tales, and I’ll tell you about the biggest fish I ever caught.”

  **

  They traveled for the rest of the day through the forest, and it was quite an idyllic place if you were into that sort of thing.

  Huge trees, evergreens with large leaves and spreading branches. Roots that sundered the earth and covered the landscape, almost as thick around as the boughs themselves. The leaves and spread of the trees blotted out the light from above, giving the forest a twilight feel all day long.

  Night time would be a truly dark place here, quite the scene for such a devout woman to keep her cult in.

  They would need to either make some kind of light or find a safe place for the night. Knowing the Prison, a safe place would be the preferred option, if he didn’t want to run into Joanne anytime soon.

  “So Quelina said she built a church of some kind and stays in it near the center of the forest?” Fenix asked.

  “Aye, she did. A really big place, too, filled with her followers when she first got here. Then she spread out, covered more territory. Now they have several forts and far fewer men, mainly due to attrition. Natural selection in the Prison has proved a match for her followers, but not for her, of course.”

  The old knight ambled on. Strangely, he still made very little noise and seemed to blend into his surroundings a bit too well.

  “So she must do some traveling to keep everyone in line,” Fenix mused.

  Convenient paused, his hand to the bark of one of the roots that curled above ground. “Aye, she does. You may need to find a way to get her to come home if she isn’t there. But we’ll find out in a few days. The journey takes a little longer when you stay off the main paths. But we don’t want to get seen before it’s necessary, right?”

  “Right,” Fenix agreed. “Do you hear that?”

  “Mmmmm,” Convenient nodded. “Been listening to it for a while now.”

  That surprised Fenix.

  For any humanoid to have better hearing than him was impressive. Of course, it may have related to still being new. But he could recall having excellent hearing, though the supernatural side had to be activated of course.

  Perhaps he was just out of practice at keeping certain things going.

  Either way, they could both hear the strange sound. It was like the wail of a woman, but it had a mesh of notes and tones. The sound carried eerily among the trees, a perfect counterpoint to the forest.

  The damsel in distress suited this place perfectly.

  “Should we go take a look?”

  Fenix turned toward the sound and noticed that Convenient was looking in that direction as well. “Yes, if for no other reason than to prevent it from attracting anything else.”

  It took them a few minutes of slogging through the forest. When you wanted to move quickly and quietly, the place became a nightmare. The number of roots small enough to trip one and yet remain unseen was prodigious.

  Old leaves, twigs, dead growth or even new growth still forming, could crackle or break with loud sounds unerringly out of place in the gentle rustle of the forest leaves.

  But Fenix’s concerns that Convenient would not be able to keep up, and do so quietly, were unfounded. The old knight made rapid and nearly silent progress around the large mangled roots, between trees, and through the forest floor covering with consummate ease.

  Meanwhile, Fenix leaped from root to root and used the branches to simply stay off the giveaway covering.

  He was more agile, while the knight was a solid being. They were different but complemented each other well.

  As they got closer, other sounds became apparent. There were snarls and whooping coughs from animal throats. Some of the sounds were louder and deeper, while many of them were the sounds of lower animals. Fenix picked up that a pack of the same creatures and one other creature were crashing through the forest at speed.

  What was strange was their prey made no sound of travel through the forest, just that eerie wail, almost a song.

  And it got louder the closer they got to it, or to them. Fenix was working out the different voices, lovely and haunting, calling out wordlessly in unison. It was only when Convenient, and he got to a portion of the forest from which they could see the chase that he could confirm his suspicions.

  Through the trees floated four women. They were humanoid, with tanned skin and dark hair in shades of brown to black, depending on the person.

  They also had different colored dresses. One had a deep royal blue, another a crimson red, the third wore a forest green, while the fourth, who was in the lead, wore black. She made no sound. In fact, her gaze focused dead ahead as she flew ahead of the rest, her black hair soaring along in the wind of their passage.

  Over every hummock and small mound, they floated, around every large root or trunk of an old tree. They could have been taken for sedate hummingbirds. The motion of their flight was graceful and unhurried, except when seen from afar, when one noticed how quickly they covered ground.

  “Look,” Convenient whispered beside him, pointing to what followed the four women.

  Fenix nodded. “I see them.”

  Chasing after the quartet was a pack of wolf-like creatures if a wolf grew to the height of a man at the withers and was covered in barbs of thorn instead of fur. Fenix knew there were many variations of the canine within the planes. Still, his hazy mind didn’t consider them problematic—except when there were many of them.

  This particular lot was new to him and numerous.

  About two dozen of the swift quadrupeds chased after the floating group. That these wolves ran so hard to keep up demonstrated how fast the women flew. If Fenix and Convenient had gotten to this vantage point a little later, the wolves and women would have already passed by. As it was, the men didn’t have a lot of time to act.

  Fenix couldn’t see what was making the much louder roar behind the wolf pack, emanating from f
urther back among the trees.

  “They need help.” Convenient had his hand around the scabbard of his sword, just below the hilt.

  Fenix glanced at the man, slightly incredulous. “This is a Prison. They are not innocent, nor would they necessarily be friendly. Why help them?”

  The old knight scowled before hopping over the fallen tree they had been hiding behind. “Because it is the right thing to do. I have never seen their like before, and they are obviously in trouble. I cannot just let them be. I will help.”

  “Being willing to die for other people is not a strong survival trait!” Fenix whispered loudly after the dirty tabard fading into the forest ahead of him.

  Convenient’s voiced carried back to his ears softly. “Aye, but gaining new allies is. And losing an existing ally is not. So help me. Together, these wargs are of no matter.”

  He couldn’t argue with that logic, and Convenient was right, they would probably not be so much of a problem that it wasn’t worth the effort. And if nothing else, he could just slip away if things got out of hand. He had to admit to being curious about the floating women, as well.

  Perhaps they could be of use to him.

  If not, he would kill them himself.

  **

  The sun was nearing setting, which didn’t change a lot in the forest except for the angle of the beams from among the covering foliage.

  The yellow dappled landscape sped by from the perspective of the sprinting wargs. Their massive stamina meant they could keep up this kind of pace for hours, chasing the women was hardly a drain. They were elite hunters. The pack knew to tire out their prey and not exhaust themselves in the process.

  Four of their number ran ahead of the fleeing ladies, two to both flanks, hemming them in, and alert for any attempt to deviate from the current course. If that were to happen, they would call out, and the rest of the pack would turn to follow. Like a well-oiled machine, the orderly quality of their pursuit usually unnerved prey.

  The bulk of the pack moved like an arrowhead through the dense undergrowth, leaping over or slipping quickly under the roots.