"I'll bet that won't work on the Duchess, or her pet witch," Cat said.
"Not likely. They should know better and probably wouldn't care anyway."
Cat pulled on her chains, "How do we get out of this?"
Danica looked around at all the instruments of torture. "For the life of me, Cat, I don't know. I really don't know."
"Encouraging."
Danica simply grunted. Her attention transfixed on a massive oaken machine — the rack. It held the place of honor in the center of the room, its thick timbers dark-stained with the blood of past victims. Braziers, now cold, were set up around the rack, with the iron handles of brands sticking out over their sides. Knives, pincers, spikes, and other nasty tools of torture hung from hooks all around the edge of the rack. The chamber reeked of urine, feces, and burnt flesh.
Biting her lip, Cat said, "What do you suppose they'll do to us?"
Grimacing, "Do you really want to know?"
"No."
Danica avoided looking at Cat, knowing her friend's open fear would only send her into deeper despair. Cat was an innocent dragged into this hellish place by Danica and her inability to accept the fate the Gods forced upon her. Never had she felt such emotional pain, such guilt, over her own actions. She wondered, was it because she was now a woman? When she died here, would her spirit also be that of an elfmaid? If so, would her soul be turned away from Bandu's Hall of Valor?
"My...don't you two look precious," Duchess Natasha said, looking them over with pleasure.
Danica started. She hadn't noticed their entrance, lost in her own thoughts and guilt. Natasha stood before her in a simple sapphire blue, ankle-length dress, fists balled up on her hips and gloating. Her expression wasn't encouraging. Behind her, Dame Agatha seethed as she glared over Natasha's shoulder at the prisoners. The Vikon witch, Dame Alexandra, now in full knightly regalia, stood by with a look of curiosity about her.
Pink-lacquered half-plate armor now protected the Vikon witch's body. The full-length skirt, open in front, was a soft red-dyed leather with pink trim and geometric designs. Her pants were pink, with red thigh boots and silver spurs. Her sword belt and gloves were also red. Considering her color scheme, Danica idly wondered if the Vikon was a hawker, forsaking her people's unrivaled love of horses. Ignoring the fact that the armor was all lacquered pink and red, she found it strange to look on a Vikon so "conventionally" armored. Their preferred styles in clothes and armor tended to be rather outrageous.
"It hasn't been a particularly good day for us, my Lady," Danica said.
"And it isn't going to be getting any better in the near future," Natasha said, an evil glint creeping into her dark blue eyes. In the brighter light of the torture chamber, Natasha proved to be an arrogant looking teenage girl. Danica now swore she couldn't be more than nineteen. "But first we have a few questions for you."
"And we have even fewer answers," Danica shot back.
Smiling grimly, "Defiance. Good. Makes the questioning more interesting."
"Wait!" Cat said, looking sharply at Danica. "It's not our fault. We came to Celia just to find someone. That's all."
"The wrong someone, I'm afraid, warrior," Dame Alexandra said, stepping forward. Turning to the Duchess, "If I may, my Lady?"
"By all means," Natasha said.
As the witch's hands began to glow, Cat cried, "Wait! What do you want to know? You haven't asked anything yet."
"Cat! Be quiet. We won't tell these godless — "
"Tuunar take that idea! We've nothing to hide," Cat said, then pulled on her bonds, "and nothing to lose — but our lives."
"And nothing to gain, either!"
"How do you know!"
"Gods!" Dame Alexandra cried. "I've never seen anything like you two. Do you even like each other?"
"I'd like her a lot better if she acted more honorably," Danica said viciously. "Warriors don't betray their allies, whether friends or not."
"Talar is not our ally. He's the cause of all our troubles," Cat said defensively. "Why do you care what happens to that soulless monster?"
"You forget he has...something of mine I hold near and dear. The reason we're here, remember?"
A sneer spread across Cat's dark face.
"He's not going to give it back."
"I'll make him!"
Dame Alexandra stepped before Danica at that point. Her hands still glowed an eerie blue. The thought of magic being used on her made Danica's skin crawl. Shifting to mage sight, she noted the texture of her magic had changed. It seemed more sinister. She cringed away, pressing her back to the cold, damp wall.
"Tell me, Danica, what does this Talar have of yours and what is his relationship to Monique?" Alexandra said.
"He's a blood relative. Monique is his sister," Danica said, eyes not leaving the glowing hands.
"Monique doesn't have a brother," she said, stepping closer. "Lie to me again, and I'll turn you into a frog and feed you to a snake."
Danica bit off a retort. She knew enough about magic to know that a witch wasn't powerful enough to do that. However, there was no profit in insulting her. Besides, there was nothing to say a Vikon couldn't be a sorceress. At the moment, Danica didn't really want to test her.
"That's the truth as I know it," Danica said.
Alexandra seized her arm. Danica screamed as searing pain shot through her. It seemed as if every nerve in her body was laid bare and was being tortured. She was feeling excruciating pain at the same time she was freezing and roasting alive. The pain in her eyes made her sight black out, but she could still hear herself screaming hysterically through the intense earache.
"Stop!" Cat cried, near tears. "I'll tell you what you want to know! Everything!"
"Alexandra, stop," Duchess Natasha said calmly. "We will hear what the big dark one has to say first."
Alexandra reluctantly released Danica. The elfmaid collapsed, sweat-soaked and breathing shallow. She was barely conscious. Alexandra stepped back and glowered at Cat. Dame Agatha stood in the background, smiling grimly. Cat bit her lip nervously, looking back and forth between Danica and their captors.
"Well..." Cat started.
"No, Cat," Danica whispered hoarsely. "They're going to kill us anyway."
"Not true," Natasha said. "All you have to do is cooperate a little, and I'll spare you. Of course, you can't be set free, but isn't slavery preferable to death?"
"Think, Cat. If we aid them, and they defeat Talar, then I'll have nothing to live for anyway," Danica said.
Cat's eyes glazed over, dropping to the ground. Danica knew she was causing her friend terrible stress. Cat just wanted to do what was right. Suddenly, the exotic beauty blinked and looked up.
"You can't kill us," Cat blurted. "We're magically tied to Talar, Ayesha's deadliest enemy. Whoever you gave Monique to will want us also. I guarantee it."
Eyes narrowing, Natasha said, "How's that?"
"High Mage Ayesha of Allaria wants us badly," Cat said, not altogether lying. Looking the Duchess straight in the eye, "Ayesha herself told us her forces now held Monique, that you helped in her capture. It is because of her word we now search for the sorceress. Ayesha herself is looking for us." Cat gave them a dark smile. "What would she say if you killed or injured us so we weren't of any use to her plans?"
It was Natasha's turn to be nervous. Danica wanted to cry out triumphantly, so proud of her friend's cleverness. Half of what Cat said was a lie, but the Duchess couldn't know that. Hopefully, by the time she found out one way or another, she and Cat will have escaped. Hopefully.
"She's lying," Alexandra said. "Let me have at her. I'll get the truth out of her, or fry her brain in the process."
"I know," Natasha said quietly, thoughtfully. "That's what I'm afraid of, Alexandra. What if she's telling the truth? Do you want to explain to Rebecca, or Ayesha, why we killed them?"
"Well..."
"Exactly," she said. "Throw them into a cell. I'll contact Rebecca. We should know one way or the oth
er by morning." Natasha smiled darkly at Cat. "If I find she is lying, I'll let you kill her. We only really need one for questioning."
Danica relaxed. Darkness was creeping in. Whatever Alexandra did to her, it ended with her feeling drained of energy.
"As you wish, my Lady," Dame Agatha said, sounding disappointed.
The Chatelaine barked some orders and guards quickly appeared to haul Cat and Danica off to a cell. The guards apparently hadn't recovered from their earlier encounter, and Danica's jab at their professionalism, for they merely escorted Cat back to a cell. Danica had to be carried.
Pushing Cat into the dank, unlit cell, they dumped Danica inside the doorway and slammed the door. The only light came though the small spy window, and that wasn't much.
Cat rushed to Danica's side, "Are you hurt bad?"
"I don't know...can't stop shaking," Danica said. Cat pulled the elfmaid into her lap and held tight. She looked so worried. "I'll be fine in a while."
"I think I bought us a little time," she said, holding her breath as if she expected to be yelled at.
Danica smiled.
"I know. Good thinking, that was," she said.
"You're not mad at me?"
"Hardly. You saved my life, and my honor."
Glancing at the cell door, "I'm not so sure. I may only have delayed our deaths."
"Any delay is greatly appreciated."
* * * * *
Natasha carefully locked her bedchamber door. After giving the room one last precautionary look, she hurried over to her exquisitely worked alabaster vanity. Seating herself, she fingered the heavy gold Signet Ring on her left hand's middle finger. Her right index finger was encircled by a silver Peeress Ring. That ring showed the world she was a direct descendant of the Empress Jasmine, founder of the Amazon Empire, so demanded certain curtsies and privileges. They both said she was a woman of power and position, and not to be trifled with. Now she found herself apprehensive at the prospect of facing a mere commoner! Gods, how she hated High Mage Rebecca and the mage's power over her.
Natasha glowered at the ensorcelled mirror before her, a "gift" from Rebecca. With it she regularly talked with the distant High Mage. She had once thought of it as a means to control her own destiny, but now saw if for what it was — the manacles that chained her to Rebecca's fate and whim. She took a deep breath and began the short chant. Repeating it three times, she reached out and touched the lower left corner of the mirror, then braced herself.
Her reflection shivered, as if on a gentle pool of water, but nothing happened. Natasha grimaced. That could only mean the High Mage of the Amazon Empire, Rebecca, was asleep. She would not take being awakened at such an ungodly hour well. If Ayesha was indeed searching for her prisoners, then Rebecca would want to know their whereabouts immediately.
Again, she repeated the chant the spell required three times and touched the mirror's corner. Again, only the slightest stirring of her reflected image.
Within seconds her image faded, to be replaced by another. Rebecca was scowling at her, hair tousled and eyes still full of sleep. She was tall and slim, with long baby fine brown hair and big, seductive brown eyes.
Behind her, Natasha spotted Monique still entangled in their bed sheets. She was not surprised the High Mage had taken the beautiful dark-haired sorceress as her paramour. Monique had proven a spirited and imaginative lover during her brief service with Natasha. Possibly the best lover she had ever experienced. But her once mischievous blue eyes were now dull, as if the life had been sucked out of her.
"What is it, Natasha?" Rebecca said in a sleep raspy voice.
Natasha chaffed at being addressed so, considering Rebecca not being a noble born. Indeed, the whole situation where she was forced to answer to a commoner distressed her. It wasn't proper for a noble to serve a commoner.
The indignities I must endure to become Empress.
"We have captured two warriors," she said, face remaining cool. "Our interrogation seems to indicate that High Mage Ayesha might be looking for them."
Rebecca seemed to digest that a moment, then her eyes lit up.
"What are their names?"
"Danica and Cat."
"Excellent! Ayesha is indeed looking for them," she said. "The blonde, Danica, is in truth Taara, Monique's older sister. Or at least the elven body Taara has been living in for the last three centuries. Some other warrior is now inhabiting it. A ploy to divert our attention. Ayesha wants that body for some arcane ceremony to rid us of Taara forever."
Natasha returned her smile, but for different reasons. She would ensure Ayesha knew that she, not Rebecca, was responsible for their capture. Rebecca stole her glory before, but not this time. Natasha would reap the rewards of this victory.
"Then I will personally escort them back to Allaria," Natasha said.
"No," Rebecca said, eyes narrowing. "There is a troop of dragoons in my employ near you. They will take possession from you and bring them to me."
"It will take a month by horse to reach Dahlys," Natasha said, seeing her plans go up in smoke. "And then another two en route to Allaria. I can cut off a month by taking them straight to Allaria from here."
Rebecca gave her a contemptuous look, "You are wrong, again. I can send them to Ayesha in a split second, with only a month's travel time to me." Her eyes took on an evil glint, "Better luck next time."
"But..."
"No excuses, Natasha," she said, dismissing her with a wave of the hand. "Dame Falen's Puma Troop will arrive within the week. Have the prisoners waiting."
Duchess Natasha stared, face impassive, fists hidden and clenched tightly, at the High Mage's smug expression. She wanted to cry, scream, anything! Anything but submit, of which she knew she must, however humiliating it might be.
"As you wish," Natasha said, a hint of bitterness tainting the words.
"And Natasha, don't harm them," Rebecca said, her image beginning to fade. "Ayesha's plans for them will be far more...entertaining."
* * * * *
Carl stalked along behind Talar as they moved deeper into the notorious Tighdubh Quarter of Allaria. His hand never strayed far from his hilt. He’d tread these same dark, sinister streets and alleys scores of times, but never as a bodyguard. It made him uncomfortable to be guarding someone else's life, to be responsible for it, instead of just worrying about his own. Talar didn't seem to share his concern, reckless bastard that he was.
Danic would owe him for this.
"Be alert, wizard," Carl whispered, hearing shuffling sounds coming from within a dilapidated tenement to their left. Life in the Tighdubh Quarter was at best, a desperate struggle to live from one day to the next. Its inhabitants usually accomplished it by preying on each other, and anyone else foolish enough to venture down the wrong street or alley. Every door, every shadow, could hold desperate men and women waiting in ambush. Giving all the nearby doors and windows a quick scan, "These streets are dangerous, even for a mighty wizard."
Talar stopped and stretched out one arm, palm out. He chanted, palm starting to glow. Carl scowled as he reached out with magically enhanced senses. The wizard dropped his arm after a long moment.
"Nothing that can threaten me — " he said. He was interrupted by three hulking brutes sliding out of a shadowy doorway and blocking their path. Though none wore any armor, all were armed to the teeth with swords and daggers. Putting a restraining hand on Carl's arm, "Wait." Looking the muggers over contemptuously, he said. "I think you men are making a big mistake. Please stand aside."
The middle man gave a short laugh. He signaled and all three began to slowly move forward.
"Rather pigheaded, don't you think?" Talar said in amazingly high spirits. Carl gave him a dark look, suspecting he had something devious planned. Talar laughed at the Tyrian's look, then turned back on the three muggers. Holding out his left hand, he wiggled his fingers at the men and spoke a Word of Power. Carl stared at the wizard's hand, expecting lightning bolts or such. Nothing obviously happene
d, but the muggers frozen, eyes huge.
"I warned you," Talar said.
Carl watched in dismay as they all wailed pitifully, which quickly turned into the high-pitched squeals of pigs as their bodies were transformed. When the spell had completed its course, the three burly robbers were transformed into small pink pigs. "Much better. Now, pigs, run before we eat you!"
Carl made a hand sign to ward off evil, and watched the three terrified pigs struggle out of the piles of clothes, ran circles around each other squealing, and then dart down an alley.
Talar laughed.
"Barbarian, I'll wager that none of our friends there survive the day before someone catches and eats them," he said.
Carl gave him a disgusted look, but knew he was right. So much fresh meat was just too good for anyone in the Tighdubh Quarter to pass up. A shiver ran up his spine. Foul magic!
"Be quick, wizard. It is near dark, and I for one don't care to still be walking these godsforsaken streets at night," Carl said, surveying their surroundings with a calculating eye. Talar's magical display would give them some breathing room, for a while. "Let us find this so-called stronghold of evil and scout it out, quickly."
Talar gave him a condescending smile, before continuing down the street. They turned left at the next intersection, then right into the first alley. Weaving their way through the piles of debris, they eventually came to another street. Talar motioned to a red brick drum-tower opposite them.
The short, squat tower was surrounded by a low wall with armed men patrolling in pairs. It was topped by a low-pitched circular roof that came to a point, and covered overhanging machicolations. Nasty, those machicolations, allowing defenders to drop boiling oils and missile weapons on unsuspecting heads. Carl recognized it as an abandoned City Guard Tower. Many more sat sprinkled around the city. He had been a guest in many of them after wild nights of drinking and fighting, so he knew the circular tower's layout well enough.
"Well, wizard, be about casting whatever foul magic you must, so we can be out of here before someone notices us," Carl said.
"You're not the cheerful fellow Danica's memories indicate," Talar said, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the cobbles. "And you worry too much."
Into Lands Forbidden (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 2) Page 8