by I K Spencer
"NO!" Anthen screamed and fell to his knees, his vision graying as he nearly fainted from the shock.
"She was but a whore, Fool! My whore!" Urvena's contorted face floated a few inches in front of him.
Anthen rose to his feet in a rage and charged the demon. He ducked the swinging tail and swung the bone he wielded but it shattered on impact against the monster's armor-like skin. There was another flash of metal and Anthen felt searing pain in his right shoulder. He screamed at the sight of a bloody stump where his arm should have been. Anthen's vision dimmed and he felt himself falling, the sound of Garrick's derisive laughter ringing in his ears.
********
Anthen moaned in agony, reaching for his wounded shoulder. Upon finding his arm intact and unhurt, his moans stopped and his eyes popped open. Both the fiery cavern and its horrific scene were gone, replaced by a silent, dark bedchamber. He gazed about the unlit chamber but it held no clues as to his whereabouts. The cave had obviously not been real, though it had seemed more real than any dream he remembered. Was this another vision? It seemed as though he had been living through one terrible dream after another since ... He suddenly remembered the image of Cidrl looming over him by the campfire, except he knew that was not a vision. That had been all too real.
He sat bolt upright as the truth hit him. He was awake! He started to shout the words out loud but clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter in his throat. He felt giddy with sudden happiness but forced himself to cautiously lay back down, remembering that he might not be alone in the room.
Calling upon all his discipline, Anthen spent the next several minutes slowly letting his eyes adjust to the dark room and searching for any signs that he might not be alone. While he scanned the room, question after question entered his mind. Why had he awakened? Where was he? Dolonar was the likely answer there. Where were Cidrl and Garrick? Satisfied that he was the only one in the room he rose again, this time more slowly. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up while silently drawing his dagger, noting that he had been sleeping fully clothed. Without making a sound, he moved to the doors and listened at each for a few minutes but heard nothing. He then closed the curtains and lit a lamp.
He stepped in front of a looking glass and shook his head at the sight, though his smile remained. He hadn't shaved in several days and his hair was a tangled mess. His clothes were filthy and from the smell, he doubted he had bathed in a very long time. He had a strong urge to go over to the wash basin but knew that would be a mistake. Cidrl must give little thought to the cleanliness of his converts. At the thought of the traitor, Anthen’s smile instantly disappeared. There would be no celebration until the monster was dead with his plan in ruins.
He moved away from the glass and checked his gear, finding all in order, though not maintained as he normally would. Next, his location was confirmed by the paintings clearly of Dolonarian origin that decorated the walls. The papered walls featured landscapes of the elevated city and portraits showing squat, unsmiling leaders. The young guardsman then doused the light and gazed out the window for a time. Though still dark, he could tell that he was in an enclosed palace of some sort and in the middle of a sizable city. He judged from the position of the moon that he had only a couple more hours before dawn.
He closed the curtains, lit the light again, and studied his visage in the mirror for a time, this time with purpose. He frowned and rubbed the sparse stubble at his chin. Could he fool Cidrl or should he not even try? The room contained three doors. The one beside his bed was ajar and led to a small dressing room and from their position, he felt nearly certain that another led to a hallway and the third probably to an adjoining chamber, where in all likelihood the traitor slept. He could slip into the next room and attempt to end it right now. Though the thought of slitting Cidrl's throat was very attractive, strategically it seemed an unwise move. He first must try to figure out the traitor's plot. After all, nothing had really changed except that he knew he had failed once and somehow had been granted a second chance. He must not fail again!
Anthen spent the rest of the time before dawn deciding how to impersonate the spellbound slave that Cidrl was accustomed to seeing. Failing to do that would probably mean death or worse, loss of his senses again. He settled upon a vacant look with unfocused eyes staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a slight frown. He then practiced the expression, trying to blink as little as possible, for the rest of the time available. With the approach of dawn, the anxious guardsman extinguished the lamp and reopened the curtains. He decided to sit in a chair by the window and wait for someone, presumably Cidrl, to come collect him.
He did not have long to wait. While still dark, the door to the hallway slowly opened and a small Dolonarian woman stepped inside, not bothering to close the door behind her. Anthen followed her with his eyes while keeping his head rigid. He noted that she was quite old though, stout and wide-faced like most of her kind, she did not appear frail.
Even in the dim light he could see the fear on the woman's wrinkled face as she slowly entered the room. She carried a lamp in one shaking hand and balanced a tray with the other. She crept forward slowly, her eyes on the bed. When she moved close enough to see that it was empty, she uttered a small cry of alarm and staggered back a few steps. In obvious terror, the old woman slowly looked round the room. Anthen could see her lips moving and guessed she was praying. She moaned softly and nearly dropped the tray when her gaze fell upon him, seated in the chair in the corner of the room. He remained frozen as she edged along the wall toward a dresser, never taking her eyes from him. She set the tray on the piece of furniture, then backed her way to the door, terrified but unwilling to take her eyes from him. She fumbled for the door handle and ran out, pulling the door closed behind her.
Anthen's blank expression changed to a frown of concern. He had made a mistake for she had clearly expected to find him on the bed. It had obviously been a severe shock for her to see him awake and seated in the chair. He rose and moved to the bed where he lay upon his back, in the same position he awoke to a few hours earlier. He closed his eyes, though kept seeing the expressions of revulsion and terror on the woman's face. He couldn't help but wonder what he had done that could inspire such feelings.
About an hour after dawn, he tensed as he heard the adjoining door open. He heard someone move into his room and it took nearly all his courage to lay there defenseless, knowing Cidrl was probably gazing at him.
"Get up and eat breakfast," Cidrl commanded and before he could rise, the door closed again.
The apprentice opened his eyes and slowly sat up, not sure whether the traitor had returned to his own chamber or stood there yet, watching him. He swung his legs around off the bed and let out a sigh of relief at being left alone again and having passed at least one brief test.
He walked over and looked at the tray left by the Dolonarian woman nearly two hours earlier. It contained a bowl of mush, now stiff and cold, hard biscuits, strips of fatty meat, and a mug of tea. He considered taking the tray over to the table but decided that eating on his feet seemed more suitable behavior. Though the food was cold and bland, he savored the breakfast, wondering how many meals he had eaten at Cidrl's command without even tasting the food. Afterward, he merely stood waiting in front of the tray.
A few minutes later the door opened and Cidrl passed across his field of vision. He willed himself to continue to stare straight ahead. He felt the larger man looking at him and he strained to remain rigid.
"You are looking ill-used my young friend," Cidrl commented cheerfully, though Anthen could tell he was talking to himself. "And the smell. You are frightening the poor Dolonarians even more than usual." Then, in a louder voice, "Shave, bathe, and change your clothes."
Anthen stepped immediately toward his pack, wondering if he was making a mistake. He sensed the other man watching him as he found his shaving blade and some soap. He walked over to the dresser, poured the unheated water into the basin and used the soap
to lather up his face, acting as though completely absorbed in his task.
"Cold water is no problem for you I see," Cidrl mumbled to himself and left Anthen alone once more.
The younger man slumped forward and rested for a minute, his nerves ragged. This could be a very long and stressful day if had to continue the act for any length of time.
He collected himself after a moment and resumed shaving. After clearing the thin beard he guessed was nearly a week old, he emptied the basin in the chamber pot and quickly stripped off his stinking clothes. Using the soap and a rough cloth, he scrubbed his entire body, then placed the basin on the floor and stood in it while rinsing away the lather. The young guardsman hurriedly pulled on fresh clothes, not wanting Cidrl to see him in action since he was less likely to make a blunder when just standing. He remained where he finished dressing, though turned so that he could face the door when it opened again, which it did a few minutes later.
Cidrl did not even glance at him as he told the apprentice to follow. Anthen scooped up his bow and walked through the adjoining door to the other man's room. Cidrl was waiting by the door to the hallway and frowned as his latest lieutenant approached. Anthen could see the traitor looking at the weapon and realized he had made a mistake.
"I did not tell you to bring the bow. Put it back."
Anthen swiveled without stopping and walked back into his room. He returned the weapon to its place on a table and walked back to the waiting master. Cidrl stared at Anthen for a moment longer, his look more curious than suspicious, then shrugged and stepped into the hallway.
Dolonarian guards were posted in the hallway on either side of the door. Another soldier, an officer by the looks of the uniform, bowed slightly to Cidrl and fell in step with the guardsman as he started to walk down the long hallway. Anthen followed a step behind, staring at Cidrl's back, and he was followed closely by another pair of guards. He caught only a momentary glimpse of the Dolonarians but they all were similar in appearance—squat figures with dark, curly hair and wide faces. The bright hue of their skin was an odd contrast to their grim expressions.
"Where was the spy apprehended?" Cidrl queried.
Anthen noted with surprise that the traitor's tone and manner were authoritative, treating the Dolonarian officer as a subordinate.
"She was caught in a sweep of a place of lodging just down the street."
"She? The Arnedonian is a woman?" Cidrl asked in surprise.
"Yes," the Dolonarian answered flatly.
"Is that unusual?"
"Arnedon men are cowards who do not know how to control their women," the Dolonarian officer answered in evident disgust.
Anthen followed the pair down several flights of steps, guessing their destination to be the dungeons. He concentrated on hearing what the two men said while staring straight ahead. He slipped once, his eyes glancing momentarily to the left as a servant they passed openly stared at him. The young woman nearly fell from the shock of his returned gaze but fortunately the pair ahead of him did not seem to notice.
As they passed, he heard the woman murmur in fright, "The undead one's gaze touched me."
After descending to the lowest level, the group passed through a few locked doors, then were shown to the prisoner's cell, only the two guardsmen and the officer entering. Cidrl stayed back by the door in the shadows, evidently wishing to observe the prisoner without being seen.
The cell was poorly lit but Anthen could see the prisoner clearly enough. She was chained to the wall by her wrists. The chains were just long enough for her to kneel with her arms stretched over her head, which lolled forward so that only her tangled mass of brown hair was visible. A filthy, sleeveless shift, covered with bloodstains, barely reached her upper thighs. She was slim compared to the women Anthen had known, small bosom and narrow hips, but with firm, muscular arms and legs in place of the fleshy, soft female limbs he was used to seeing.
Cidrl gestured for the officer to have her stand up.
"Get on your feet!" the man bellowed.
The woman appeared unconscious and did not stir. The stocky Dolonarian strode forward and jerked her head up by her matted, greasy hair. The woman grunted with pain but then suddenly shot upward, moving forward as far as the slack in the chains allowed. The startled officer staggered back, just barely evading the manacled right hand that reached for his throat.
"You will regret that whore!" the man hissed but Anthen saw fear in his eyes.
Standing up, she loomed over the squat figure and leered at him, apparently unconcerned by the threat. Anthen heard Cidrl chuckle, evidently intrigued by the woman. At her full height, the young guardsman guessed her to be less than a head shorter than himself, far taller than most women of Isaencarl. She was powerfully built but also clearly a woman and Anthen wondered how she managed to move among the short Dolonarians without drawing immediate attention.
Cidrl watched her for a few moments longer, then gestured to the Dolonarian that he was ready to leave. Anthen saw the woman staring in their direction through her tangles, probably wondering who would observe her from the shadows. He caught a final glimpse of the woman before turning to follow Cidrl out the door of the cell. Her look of defiance was gone, replaced by fear and defeat, and the guardsman felt a strong stab of guilt, knowing her situation was hopeless.
The trio did not leave the dungeon but instead went to a meeting room, where they were joined by another Dolonarian. The man bowed formally to Cidrl and glanced fearfully in Anthen's direction. The assemblage, save the mute apprentice left standing by the door, gathered at a long wooden table.
"What have you learned from the prisoner?" Cidrl asked the newcomer once all were seated.
"Nothing," the man said with a shake of his head. "She is a tough one." There was a hint of respect for the woman in his gravelly voice.
As Anthen had guessed, the man was apparently some sort of dungeon master. Older and fatter than the other officer, his uniform was shabby and grimy.
"What have you done thus far?"
"The usual routine. No food. Little water or sleep. I've lashed her a couple of times. She will break in the next day or two."
"Very good," Cidrl nodded approvingly. "Keep that up for another day. Tomorrow, I will talk to her personally, and as a foreign diplomat, encourage her to cooperate."
The jailer nodded. Anthen was surprised by the power Cidrl seemed to wield over the Dolonarians. He must have some highly placed allies.
"Yes, we will give charm a try." Cidrl smiled but his eyes held no mirth. "And if that does not loosen her tongue, I will introduce her to my friend here." Cidrl gestured toward Anthen and laughed.
The Dolonarians laughed nervously, obviously appreciating the terror in that statement. Though he showed no sign, the words frightened the young guardsman most of all.
Chapter 25
Anthen spent the better part of the rest of the day alone in his room. Upon his return, he found that the chamber had been cleaned and his soiled clothes washed and folded. The same frightened woman that had delivered his breakfast returned twice more with his lunch and dinner trays. Each time she hurried in, dropped the tray, picked up the tray from the previous meal, and rushed out, praying furiously the whole time. As before, the food grew cold before Cidrl thought to command him to eat.
The young guardsman left his chamber briefly during the afternoon, following at the heels of his master. The same Dolonarian officer went with them to the foyer of what appeared to be a large meeting room. They were not admitted into the conference but a man dressed in fine robe came out and talked to Cidrl. The little man was quite old, with thin white locks and wisps of white hair for a beard. Two other men followed him. One was armed, a bodyguard most likely. The other carried papers and scrolls.
The little man and Cidrl nodded to each other, then sat side-by-side on a stone bench. Unfortunately, they were not close enough for Anthen to hear what was said as they conferred. He did note, however, that Cidrl seemed to be angry, ev
en shaking his fist at the finely dressed Dolonary, who seemed unperturbed by the outburst from the giant westerner. They talked a bit longer before both men rose and bowed in unison. The old man and his assistants returned to the meeting room and when the large door opened, Anthen could tell from the sound that a sizable gathering was underway within. Cidrl did not speak as they were escorted back to their chambers.
Anthen was dismissed to his room again and only saw Cidrl on the two brief occasions when the traitor tersely ordered his spellbound slave to eat and later to sleep. In between, Anthen spent the time considering his situation and memorizing the small part of the palace and city he could see from his window.
He pondered the meaning of the meeting between Cidrl and the robed figure. Why was Cidrl here? Not merely to interrogate the Arnedonian woman, he guessed, and he got the sense she had been captured since their arrival anyway. Dolonar, he knew, was a monarchy. Each of the plateau city-fortresses were ruled by local kings and one of those sovereigns was also emperor of all Dolonar. There also existed the High Council, the forum where emissaries from all the kings gathered to discuss issues. The little man might be a member of the High Council. If so, Cidrl must be attempting to influence the council on some matter concerning his treachery.
Though exhausted from the constant effort required to fool everyone, Anthen had trouble sleeping. He did not know why he had awakened in the first place so couldn’t rule out the possibility that if he fell he asleep he might never wake up. That was terrifying enough but he was also troubled that someone might discover him while sleeping and that some aspect of his slumber might rouse suspicion. Thus, he slept little, waking quickly at every sound. After daybreak, he gave up and lay feigning sleep until the adjoining door opened and Cidrl's curt command allowed him to rise and eat.
Anthen commenced his second day of consciousness with far less trepidation than his first. He felt more comfortable in his role, less worried that he would make a blunder that would give the truth away. He felt very fortunate, however, that Cidrl hardly even looked in his direction. He guessed that the sorcerer had seen so many spellbound apprentices that their behavior had lost all interest for the traitor.