Izaryle's Will

by Levi Samuel

  A thick leather strap shot up from beneath the table and coiled itself around Kashus’ waist. It tightened, cutting into his hips, preventing even the slightest movement.

  “We're done for the day. Rest well and think about your choices. Tomorrow we'll try something new.” Nezial walked out of the chamber, leaving the tools where they laid.

  Kashus watched two dreualfar rush into view. They were much cleaner than he expected, as if they'd just bathed. Probably an order from his captor.

  They carefully cleaned the wounds, leaving as much salt in them as possible. Uncoiling the sticky intestines, they tucked them neatly into the hole and stitched the wound closed with a dull needle and waxed sinew. Bandaging the restrained human, they ensured the blood loss wouldn't release him from bondage any time soon.

  One of the dreualfar pried the man’s mouth open, while the other poured a milky substance from a tiny glass vial.

  It tasted of chalk and had the texture of syrup.

  Massaging his throat, the dreualfar securing his neck ensured he swallowed it.

  The two dreualfar wiped the tools off and returned them to the table. Grabbing their supplies, they disappeared out the door, leaving him to his solitude.

  Screams echoed through the underground corridors. The flicker of candle light danced on the cavern wall, opposite the opening.

  Searing pain tore through his senses. The fresh skin he'd grown overnight was raw from the bandages and covered in thousands of blisters and welts. His wounds were sealed, but the fresh burns went deeper than flesh. The muscles beneath were stiff, cooked like a well-done steak.

  Nezial brought the wood handled brush down the man's chest. Thousands of sharp wires comprising the bristles, cutting into him. They tore through the soft skin, leaving a trail of thin, bleeding lines.

  The raw skin was the least of his concerns. He could feel an added pressure in his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he'd relieved himself, and his intestines were tangled and knotted inside. He cramped, unable to curl from the pain. It wouldn't be long until his death resulted from his clustered bowels.

  One full day he suffered through the burns, until the dreualfar commander left him for the evening.

  The following day he found himself covered in ice, freezing what was left of his senses. His body was little more than a wasted mass of bone and desecrated tissue, his mind being the one thing that remained intact, but that wouldn’t last much longer in this infernal place.

  Kashus lay strapped to the table, his face blue from the icy spells and frozen water. After the other forms of torture, the ice seemed to kill his senses, bringing a slight amount of comfort. But even that was beginning to give way to pain.

  Nezial took a step toward him, the sadistic smile ever-present on his lips. Commotion echoed from the dark hallway and a pop echoed in the room. Nezial glanced down, seeing an arrowhead erupt from his stomach. He let out a howl of pain and fell over the wounded highlord, before collapsing to the floor.

  Kashus stared into the mirror, shocked to see the three arrows protruding from the now dead commander's back. The thick leather straps that held him in place prevented him from seeing who fired the shots but if they killed the commander, perhaps they would free him.

  Sword rang against sword, announcing an unseen battle.

  Kashus searched his limited view, trying to catch sight of who stood in the room with him.

  Three figures approached. Their features hidden by shadow, unseen in the flickering candlelight.

  “Lord Kashus, your wife hired us to rescue you.” The large man in the center announced. “Our men have the remaining dreu on the run. Let’s get you out of here before we lose this opportunity.”

  The man on the right placed his hand on Kashus’ chest. A faint green light sparked to life, widening and soaking into his body. Kashus felt the warmth flow through him. His skin itched, healing before his eyes. The burns faded, disappearing from view. The open wounds pulled shut, strands of skin jumping from one side to the other, sealing them completely. He felt his crushed toes reform. It was painful, feeling the bones sprout through the healing ends, but it meant he’d be able to walk again. Looking in the mirror, skin wrapped around the digits and they settled in their rightful place, solidifying the renewed bone and muscle. Kashus wiggled them, unsure if he was dreaming. To his surprise, they responded to his request. His stomach churned, but it wasn't in a sickly manner. He could feel his insides moving, getting reoriented to their proper location. Within moments he was whole again.

  The man who'd healed him went to work unstrapping the leather bindings, while the one on the left pulled a set of clothing from a brown, linen sack.

  Released from his binds, Kashus sat up with assistance from his saviors. His eyes had trouble adjusting to their features, having been in the dim light for so long. He swung his legs off the slab, knocking the buckets of unnatural freezing water to the floor. A light amount of steam floated into the warmer cavern air. He felt his heart jump, seeing their faces clear into his vision. The dreuslayers stood before him, ready to lead him to salvation. “I thank you for your willingness to retrieve me. Many would not dare enter this forsaken place.”

  Gareth looked the battered man up and down. He was lucky to still be alive. “Thanks would be better offered in coin when we make it out of here.”

  Kane pulled the tattered clothing in place. The man’s bluing skin was cold to the touch and needed to be gradually warmed to prevent shock.

  Ravion helped him to his feet, certain he was going to have to learn to walk again.

  Taking his first step, Kashus stumbled. He’d lost track of how long it’d been since he last stood. He quickly secured the rags around him, tucking the tension bands out of the way. They were by no means the clothing of nobility that he was used to, but they would offer a little protection in the cool cavern air. He stepped over the fallen commander, feeling comfort in his death. “Get me out of here.”

  The dreuslayers escorted him from the small room and into the corridor.

  Passing from the light, darkness overtook him. He couldn't see so much as a shadow in the pitch black. Holding his hands out, searching for anything, Kashus felt lost, abandoned in the dark. “I can't see anything.”

  Ravion's calm voice echoed, calming him. “Worry not. We can see just fine. We'll guide you.”

  He felt one of the men grab hold of his shirt, directing him through the tunnels. He had no idea how far they'd traveled. The absence of light made it feel eternal and brief at the same time. He could feel the walls enclose around him, narrowing into a single passage, told only by the echo of shuffling steps. The packed clay and rock felt to incline slightly and he felt the lingering warmth of the stone ceiling not far above.

  The battle continued to echo all around. He didn't know how far away it was, or even if they were going in the right direction. But these men had made a name for themselves. Perhaps they could see him to his family. Trusting in his rescuers, he moved when instructed and slowed when required.

  They moved forward several paces, stopping long enough to fend off the unseen attackers, and continued again.

  How they knew where they were going in the underworld of the catacombs, he couldn't answer. The fact they had the ability to see in the Underdark was a mystery in of itself, but it served him. That was reason enough to keep quiet. Kashus recalled the rumors of their formation. They were supposedly the only beings, other than the dreualfar, to have successfully navigate the unnaturally dark passageways. Kashus followed, unable to fall behind or move ahead. After what felt like hours, he could see a faint glow in the distance.

  They led Kashus toward the sunlight, growing with each step. He felt it greet his face, leaving the catacombs behind him. The bright light was uncomfortable, but it was better than what he'd grown accustomed to.

  His eyes adjusting, Kashus glanced around, knowing he was somewhere south of the Krondar border. The coloring of the stone and dirt told him that much. It was much
dryer than back home. He was used to the brown soil, usually covered in a light layer of rain or snow. This soil was more of a red clay. A land just as harsh as its occupants. It took several minutes for his eyes to fully adjust to the light. They stood in a secluded grove, the cavern entrance behind them, and large stones surrounding on all sides. A familiar voice reached his ears, bringing a long-forgotten comfort to him.

  Kashus turned to see his wife and children appear between two of the large boulders.

  They gracefully walked along the trail, breaking into a quick jog at his sight. His two sons, one twelve and the other seven, broke free of their mother's grip and charged, wrapping themselves around his waist. His wife smiled her precious smile, carrying their infant daughter in her arms.

  He caught his sons, hugging them tight. Picking them up, he carried them a few steps closer to his wife. They were too heavy for his weakened form to carry for long. Reaching her, he opened his arms, pulling his family close, never wanting to be apart from them again.

  “Kashus, I was afraid I’d never see you again.” His wife mourned in his arms. “Where’d you hide the stone? That’s what they’re after. We have to make sure they don’t find it!”

  He felt the tears rolling down his face. “It’s safe, my dear. I haven’t told them anything. I thought for sure the dreu had killed you when they took the keep. I'm relieved to see you and our children are safe.” Kashus held them for several minutes, afraid to let go.

  Gareth approached, clearing his throat to gain their attention. “Our arrangement is complete. Although we’ve learned what they’re after. We need to get out of here and move the stone. I can’t risk it falling into their hands.”

  “Yes, yes. I switched it with the Jewel of Shadgull months ago. No one knows it’s there.”

  “Good. We’ll take care of it. For now, we need to get out of here. My men will keep your family safe. I suggest you take them to Marbayne so we can—” Gareth’s words were cut short seeing the army of dreualfar swarm from the gap in the rocky outcropping. “What the hell?” He stared in confusion. “How are they in the daylight?”

  The dreualfar continued through the hole in the ground. Already there were over a hundred, and many more filing out.

  Kashus watched both Ravion and Kane fall to the mass of dark-skinned alfar.

  Gareth charged into battle. Several crude scimitars stabbed into him, silencing his objections.

  The ever-growing horde of dreualfar cheered their victory over the dreuslayers, headed for his family next.

  Kashus glanced around, his wife and sons were several feet away. He rushed toward them, seeing their distance grow with each step. The dreualfar surrounded them, hacking his sons to pieces. When they had finished all that remained was a pile of bloody gore on the stone and dirt covered ground. His daughter was ripped from her mother's arms. One of the dark creatures began chanting over the infant girl.

  Her features began to change. Her skin became dark, matching that of the dreualfar. Her ears elongated to a point and her short brown hair turned long and white.

  Horrified, Kashus watched the vile beast change his baby girl into one of them.

  His wife was forced to the ground, her clothes ripped away, revealing her naked breast. Several of the dreualfar restrained her while the others took turns ravaging her body. Having their fill, they beat her to a bloody pulp, leaving her violated and dying.

  The highlord tried to look away, but his body wouldn’t comply. He tried to reach her, straining to fight, but he couldn't move. He was trapped, watching his family's destruction. He screamed his failure. He couldn't save them. He couldn't slow them. He couldn't move. His wife’s voice echoed in his mind. “You’re a coward. You can’t save me. You can’t save anyone! You’re a broken man with little more than a title! A man unworthy of being called a lord!” Frozen in fear, he watched his family suffer his blight.

  One of the dreualfar grabbed his dying wife by her long brown hair. He ripped her nearly limp form from the ground, exposing her throat. Taking a rusty dagger, the dreualfar stabbed through the side of her neck and yanked the blade forward. Her lifeless body hit the dirt, tearing what was left with the impact. Her head rolled free, coming to a stop in front of Kashus. An expression of disappointment stared deep into his eyes.

  He tried to fight, tried to yell, tried to move but found all impossible. He couldn’t do anything other than stand there and watch, unable to process what was happening.

  Nezial made his way from the dark cavern, his wicked smile burning through the daylight. He walked over, picking up the once-human baby girl. Continuing toward the highlord, he played with the child as if he had some dark sinister purpose for her.

  His voice echoed deep into Kashus’ head, a voice mixed with power, malice, and humor. “You thought you could escape me. You should know there’s no escape for you.” He playfully bopped the infant on the nose, withdrawing an innocent laugh from the corrupted baby.

  Kashus screamed, he couldn't help himself. He tried to move, even to comfort himself, but was unable to do so. Looking deep into the mirror stationed above him, he was strapped to the stone slab. He could think of nothing but his family being slaughtered. His daughter being taken by these evil creatures to be raised as one of their own.

  The commander stood over the tormented man. His body was broken and now his mind was as well. A smile came to his face with the location of the stone revealed.

  Kashus screamed, the illusion of time eluding him. He couldn’t tell how long he'd been here, he didn’t even know where here was anymore. The visions that were forced upon him had taken all sense of placement. He wasn’t sure of anything. He retreated into himself, reliving his failure again and again. He didn’t know where he was. He didn't know what was and wasn’t real. He wasn't even sure if he was himself, the reflection in the mirror looked like him, but it was so twisted and mangled he could have been mistaken for anyone. All thought abandoned and flooded him, entangling his mind. He was lost, broken. Broken in his soul, broken in his mind. All hope was gone. It all changed so much, so often, he couldn’t decide if anything was real.

  Several days later Nezial stood in silence, watching his soldiers position the large wooden wedge next to the stone slab where the man softly whispered to himself.

  It was simply a section of tree trunk that had been cut at an angle and flattened to stand on end. It stood just over three feet tall, angled downward with the dull tip pointed straight up. The wood was stained with blood and other fluids from years past, but there was an excitement in finally using it.

  Nezial had never seen its effects. But his books told him what to expect. The council, before his rise, reserved its use for traitors and general threats to their power. He no delusions, they would have used it on him, had he not claimed power when he did. He certainly proved himself a threat to their rule. But none of that mattered. He was in charge and they were dead. All but Nadilia, whom was confined to her chambers until he had need of her. And now he was going to get to see what this archaic tool was all about. The truth was, he'd grown tired of playing with the broken highlord. The man was of no use to him any longer.

  Nodding to his soldiers, agreeing with their placement of the large device, Nezial unstrapped the broken man and removed him from the stone slab.

  Kashus was limp, unable to fight even if he wanted to. His muscles were destroyed, leaving him at the mercy of his host. He was of no use to himself, of no use to anyone.

  Nezial pulled him to the edge, and waited e guards to take him.

  They grabbed the weak human and easily lifted him from the slab. Placing him atop the wedge, they made him straddle it, dangling one leg down each side.

  Nezial tied a small rock to each ankle. It wasn’t meant to pull, but to apply a constant pressure. There was no threat of him going anywhere. He didn't have the willpower. Turning to his men, Nezial waved them out. Following behind, paused just side the door. “Keep watch. I want to know when he's close to the end.” Ac
cepting their blank stare as acknowledgment, Nezial disappearing into the dark corridor.

  Kashus stared into nothing. His mind danced with memories of life. Visions of the past, present, and future, none of which were true, but he didn't know any different. He wiggled, searching for a comfort that wouldn't come. Slumped down, his once rigid spine may as well of been a cooked noodle. Lost in nothing and everything at once, he sat there, unaware of what was happening to him.

  Over the course of three days gravity pulled him, slowly tearing his body in half. The first day his hips began to separate, splitting him slightly. Blood and fecal matter rolled down the sides from his destroyed colon. The second day reached his stomach, allowing his bowels to drape, undamaged, but free.

  He moaned incoherently, lost in pain, but unable to do anything about it. Even if his mind were intact, he didn't have the strength to move. The one thing he did know in his broken state, he would die soon.

  The third day, Nezial sat in his study, reading the contents of his glimmering, black book. The secrets it held were his and his alone. No one would dare read from it, not that they could anyway. He was chosen.

  A knock at the door roused him.

  “Enter!”

  The door creaked open, revealing one of his watchmen. “Commander, it's time.”

  Nezial tossed the book aside and jumped from his chair. He didn't want to miss the final moments. Rushing toward the torture room, he rounded the corner and stepped inside.

  The guard took his post outside the door.

  Looking upon the man, Nezial was amazed by the damage the simple device had inflicted.

  The highlord was draped down both sides, his body nearly in two pieces. Yet he was alive, still looking around, tears of pain in his eyes. His innards had fallen from his body, functional but unprotected. There was a fair amount of blood and other bodily fluids, but clearly not enough to kill the man. Though his time was extremely limited.

  Nezial watched in earnest. He heard the resounding pop of the highlord's collar bone collapse under the pressure. The final breath escaped his toy, lying in two piles on each side of the wedge. A wicked smile breached his lips. “At long last, the highlord is dead.” The dreualfar commander turned and left the chamber, satisfaction radiating from him. Stopping outside the door, he addressed the two guards “Clean up this mess and prepare for our next guest. The Lord of Shadgull deserves our finest hospitality.”