by I K Spencer
Shortly after finishing the morning meal, Cidrl called him and they left their quarters once again. The same Dolonarian escort awaited them in the hallway and they followed the familiar path down into the dungeons and to the same cell. This time, however, Cidrl ordered Anthen to stand by the door with a dismissive wave and approached the woman, manacled and on her knees again. Anthen saw new bruises and more blood stains on the tattered shift.
"Oh my!" Cidrl said and shook his head. "Those barbarians!" His voice dripped with concern and sympathy. "Have you no honor?" he yelled toward the jail door and presumably the dungeon master. "My dear can you stand?" he murmured softly to her.
She finally raised her head and there was a flicker of surprise in her face, which had been spared any bruises thus far.
"Who are you?" she demanded in the tone of someone accustomed to giving orders.
"I am an ambassador of sorts from Isaencarl," Cidrl said with a bow. "I heard of your plight and demanded an audience to see for myself whether you are being treated fairly. This is uncivilized! Why is this poor woman in shackles?" he roared at the grimy head jailer, now standing near Anthen by the door.
"She attacked a guard and attempted escape," the dungeon master replied defensively.
Cidrl turned back to the woman. "Madam, would you tell this oaf that you will behave, so that we may talk in a civilized manner?"
She studied Cidrl for a moment, then nodded her assent. The jailer came forward and unlocked the manacles from her wrist and ankles. She stumbled trying to rise and Cidrl stepped forward to help steady her and guide her to a seat.
"Escape eh?" Cidrl spat at the retreating jailer. "She can barely walk!"
The pretend diplomat sat across from her and leaned forward, a convincing look of compassionate concern on his broad face. "You poor thing. When was your last meal?"
"Four days," she answered in a voice that sounded much stronger than she looked; she leaned on the table, unable to sit upright.
"Bring this woman food and water immediately," he growled at the jailer. "And I mean real food! Not the thin gruel you normally serve."
Anthen was impressed by how convincing Cidrl could be. Even though he had been fooled by the man and knew this to be entirely an act, he felt a twinge of pride for the way Cidrl stood up for the woman.
"Thank you kind sir. You have saved my life." The woman offered a weak smile.
"Have the brutes beaten you?"
"Aye. And lashed me as well."
A plate of food, mostly meat scraps and bread crusts, along with a bowl of thin soup were placed in front of the woman. She attacked the food with an animal ferocity, completely oblivious to all else, and Cidrl had no choice but to wait for her to finish. She wolfed down the meat first, followed quickly by the bread. As she noisily ate the food, her blue-gray eyes shifted quickly between Cidrl and the jailer, ready to fight should either make a move to take the food away.
Anthen respected her judgment. A common technique for breaking prisoners was to starve them, then tease them with food. She planned to get down as much as she could in case they planned to take it away before she was finished.
The woman picked up the soup bowl and drained it within a matter of seconds, though careful not to spill a drop. She then licked the bowl and plate clean and even swept the breadcrumbs from the table into her palm and ate them. Satisfied that not a single morsel of food had been missed, the alleged spy belched softly and leaned back in the chair.
"Tell me your story, my dear, so that I may help you if I may," Cidrl said.
"Oh thank you sir! I am but an innocent maiden, visiting Dolonar."
The woman flashed Cidrl a big smile and casually pulled thread from her filthy gown and used it to tie her tangled mane into a ponytail. Her face, though dirty, bore no signs that it had been beaten. She possessed a full face with high cheekbones and a narrow nose. Her skin was golden and Anthen guessed she spent a good deal of time outdoors. She was not a great beauty but certainly attractive with a healthy-farm-girl sort of appeal. Her smile was very alluring and the young guardsman sensed that she knew so and used it to her advantage. She was probably a few years older than he, however, a little too mature in years to be considered a maiden.
"I am here for my poor Papa. He is a great man of science and was invited here by his Dolonarian colleagues. Papa is ailing so I made the journey on his behalf. I have done nothing! I just wish to return to my homeland and Papa." Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked desperately across the table toward Cidrl.
"Oh no my dear," Cidrl said softly, his smile now bearing no trace of compassion. "It is too late for any fabrications. Our hosts have irrefutable evidence against you. I meant for you to explain your real mission. Your only chance now is confession."
Her face hardened for an instant as she realized that Cidrl was clearly in league with the Dolonarians, then just as quickly resumed the look of a terrified maiden.
"No. It is all a terrible misunderstanding!" She sobbed, continuing to play the part of the innocent victim. She grasped his hand. "Please kind sir. Tell them I am innocent."
Cidrl patted her hand. "I will do everything in my power to help you but I am afraid your only hope is to confess." His dark eyes grew hard. "I beg you to reconsider a course of full disclosure my dear. I will return." Cidrl pulled his hand free and nodded to the jailer.
The woman looked quickly around the room as though she might try something but then sighed and rose wearily to her feet, submitting freely to the shackles. Once outside the cell, Cidrl informed the jailer that he would return that afternoon, adding that it would be her last chance to confess voluntarily. Anthen heard the menacing tone in the older man's voice and knew that he was through playing games with the Arnedonian woman.
Cidrl dismissed Anthen to his chamber for the rest of the morning and his dread increased as noon approached. Could he stand silently and watch the woman be tortured? The woman was obviously a spy and not his concern but to not stand against torture went against everything he believed in. The young guardsman also felt a bond with the strong woman; their situations were not that different and they had a common enemy. Even worse than being forced to be a mute witness was the possibility that Cidrl might even make use of his mindless slave in the torture. Anthen guessed that would be beyond his acting skills but consoled himself that Cidrl would be the first to fall if his hand were forced.
At noon, the two guardsmen, along with their Dolonarian escorts, left their quarters once again. Instead of returning to the dungeon, however, the guardsmen were led to another part of the palace. Anthen saw a lot of men dressed in similar fashion to their escorts and guessed it to be some sort of military headquarters.
They were led to a chamber with a large table, their escorts remaining outside. One end of the table contained food and was set for two places. They waited for a few minutes until another door opened and through it stepped three Dolonarians—a fat, middle-aged man flagged by two larger men who were probably his personal guards. The guards waited by the door while the other man, with short gray hair and matching beard, approached Cidrl and bowed formally.
"So good of you to see me Commander," Cidrl said and returned the bow.
"Please be seated." The man gestured toward the far end of the table, apparently set for their lunch.
As with the other Dolonarians, the man behaved courteously toward the guardsman but Anthen could see fear and animosity in the man's countenance. His fleshy mouth only grimaced as he attempted to smile and his dark eyes hardened with dislike. He completely ignored Anthen, whom Cidrl ordered to wait by the door through which they had entered.
Anthen watched while the two men ate the luncheon and conversed quietly. He was able to hear very little of their conversation. From his vantage point the Dolonarian's back was to him and he couldn’t make out a single word uttered by the man. Anthen’s ears picked up only a few stray words from the traitor, though he watched Cidrl's face closely and tried to read the man's lips. Fro
m the little he could glean, the pair seemed to be discussing the mobilization status of the two countries. The immensity of the treason Cidrl was committing shocked the apprentice. From what he could hear, the traitor seemed to be describing the sizes and locations of Isaencarl's armies. Even more surprising was that the Dolonarian seemed to be providing Cidrl with similarly highly protected details regarding Dolonary forces.
After they finished eating, the pair hunched over maps spread out on the table and appeared to be conferring about war tactics. Anthen's blank stare did not give a hint of his growing inner turmoil, the fear that the men were plotting the surprise invasion of his homeland. As the meeting concluded, the two men bowed once more and exchanged a few parting words. Anthen tensed when he caught the words "good luck" and "soon" and was further discouraged by the pleased look on Cidrl's face as the he walked toward the door.
From the meeting, the pair and their escorts returned to the dungeon. Anthen's stomach fluttered with growing apprehension as they followed the familiar path to the woman's cell. The captive was chained in the same position and did not look up at their entrance. Cidrl again ordered his deadly slave to remain by the door, then stepped forward.
"Have you come to your senses my dear?" Cidrl asked in a friendly, compassionate tone as he neared the woman.
"Oh 'tis you," she replied and rose to her feet, in obvious pain. "Thank you for coming so soon. What news have you?"
"They are unyielding, I am afraid. Frankly, after hearing the evidence, I am not surprised." He shook his head in mock sadness. "No, my dear. Your only hope is to give them everything you know."
She started to sob and shook her head fiercely. "No! They are lying! I am—"
With lightning quickness, Cidrl's right hand shot forward and closed around the woman's throat.
"The time for sport is finished," he hissed, his face very close to hers. "You are no innocent maiden and I am no ambassador of good will." He released her and sat on the edge of the table where they had met just a few hours earlier, waiting for her to stop gasping for air.
"Since when do Jamen's guardsmen serve as torturer for Dolonar?" she asked between gasps. Her eyes burned with fury, all traces of the innocent maiden gone.
"You are in no position to ask questions. You know, of course, you will be tortured by the Dolonarians until you either talk or die first. Death, you have been taught, is now the only escape for you." Anthen could see that the monster was enjoying this. "But you are wrong! How about a fate worse than death? An endless, hellish nightmare of pain and despair?"
The woman's expression did not waver and Anthen tensed, sensing his involvement to be at hand.
"Ah, of course you doubt my words. That is to be expected. Words alone may be weapons after all. A demonstration is in order." Cidrl looked in Anthen's direction. "Come forward."
The young guardsman walked slowly forward and halted in front of his master. He felt the woman's gaze shift to him as he stared at the wall above her head.
"This unfortunate soul's name is Anthen. As you can see, he is a handsome young man, and very talented. Fresh from the academy with a most promising future. He was a most noble and virtuous servant of good King Jamen. Now ..." Cidrl paused and turned to scrutinize Anthen. "Well, now he is little more than a trained animal, a dog that does only my bidding without the slightest hesitation." Cidrl chuckled, adding "Of course he’s considerably more dangerous than any dog."
"Are the Dolonarians impressed by this little guardsmen act?" the woman asked, sneering at Cidrl.
"Anthen, strike the woman and keep her silent."
Anthen immediately stepped forward and slapped the chained woman across the face. He fought to remain expressionless as she glared up at him.
"Look at him closely my dear. Actually the Dolonarians are impressed, though terrified would be the more accurate word. They refer to him and his kind as 'undead' and consider him an abomination. Anthen, whom do you serve?"
"You," Anthen answered without emotion.
"Whom did you serve before me?"
"King Jamen."
"Why were you sent to me?"
"To apprentice."
"Yes of course, but what was your true mission?"
"To uncover and thwart your plot against Isaencarl," Anthen answered without hesitation. Cidrl had undoubtedly questioned him already.
"And what is the name of your accomplice?"
"Garrick."
"Enough—" the woman started to interrupt but Anthen struck her again and covered her mouth, as per the older guardsman’s last order.
"Again Anthen," Cidrl said in a bored voice and Anthen repeated the blow, drawing a trickle of blood from her nose.
"You see, he has been transformed from the protector of all that is good to a mindless monster. A man who will be hated forever by his countrymen and will go down in history as a member of the traitorous group that destroyed the realm." Cidrl shook his head in mock sympathy. "That is a fate worse than death. Again Anthen."
Anthen repeated the blow, feeling sick inside. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. He envisioned himself turning and hacking Cidrl's head off with his sword. He cherished the look of shock he imagined would be on the traitor's face just before he died.
"But that is far from the worst part of his fate. You have to wonder, as you look at those horrible dead eyes, what is in his mind and heart, as he is forced to spend the rest of his life committing any act that I command. Again Anthen."
Anthen delivered the blow, trying to soften it without drawing the traitor's notice.
"Well, I promise you that his mind is enduring a torture far worse than you have thus far. His consciousness is trapped in a hell you can’t begin to imagine. He is, at this very moment and until the day his body dies, living one horrific nightmare after another. Again Anthen."
Anthen slapped the woman again, not doubting that Cidrl spoke the truth as he recalled the vision with Garrick and Urvena. The Arnedonian woman, her eye starting to close from the repeated blows, did not look convinced. As the horrified young guardsman looked at the woman's beaten face, he realized that he was going to try to save her somehow.
"Anthen, draw your dagger." Anthen did so but knew he would turn and finish Cidrl before using the weapon against the woman. The next order, though, was not what the young guardsman expected.
"Anthen, slice your arm open across the wrist."
Anthen slowly drew the blade across his left wrist, concentrating with all his might to show no reaction. He felt his warm blood running down his arm and pouring to the floor. For the first time, real fear showed in the woman's face.
"Ah, I thought one final demonstration might be helpful. He will stand there and bleed to death without moving. So, as you may be starting to realize, once you are under my control, you will freely tell me anything I desire to know." Cidrl turned to the jailer. "Fetch some bandages and bind his wound. Sorry Anthen, death will not set you free so soon."
The jailer hurried out, happy to be away from such horror.
"Well my dear, what say you?" Cidrl asked cheerfully. "I will give you the choice to decide your fate. Either you speak now and earn a quick death or become like our bloody, young friend here and join me."
The woman looked directly at him, only defiance showing on her bruised face. "I have nothing to say."
"I respect your decision. Most honorable. I am also looking forward to having you join me. It will be more interesting to have a woman along, as you might imagine. " Cidrl momentarily underscored the last with a leer at the woman’s body. "You will have one more opportunity to change your mind, however. I will return in the morning and if you still feel the same, we will ... begin." Cidrl smiled but his eyes held a strange light. "Follow Anthen. Let's get that bleeding stopped before you collapse." He paused at the door and turned back. "Good evening. May you enjoy one more night of pleasant dreams."
The jailer met them outside the cell with bandages and nervously wrapped Anthen's wrist, held
out at Cidrl's command. Anthen could feel the man's fear and loathing of him. As they left the dungeon area, the apprentice took note of every guard and gate they passed through and memorized where the keys were kept.
Cidrl left Anthen alone in his chamber, then returned a short time later with another Dolonarian, undoubtedly a healer, who removed the bandages and inspected his wound.
"What happened to him?" the man, a bald-headed Dolonarian with bulging eyes, asked as he pressed hard to arrest the blood flow.
"Never mind. Just fix it and then leave any instructions with that old woman who brings his food." Cidrl turned and left without another word.
The man applied some foul-smelling salve, then tightly bound the wound. He stole nervous glances at Anthen as he worked then hurried out. Once left alone again, Anthen’s mind worked feverishly on the details of securing the woman's escape. He pictured the entire path he must travel from the hallway outside his door to the woman's cell. He thought out a plan for each obstacle he would face during the journey, along with contingencies to fall back upon if his plans went awry. The time passed quickly before the serving woman crept in and left his dinner tray.
Getting the imprisoned woman free, however, was only half the battle. What should he do with her after securing her release? He knew little of the rest of the palace and nothing of the city beyond what could be seen from his window. Perhaps the Arnedonian might know how to escape the palace and city but the dungeon was no place for a conference. She also might not be fit to travel.
His only real choice, therefore, was to bring the woman back to his chamber. Certainly, unless Cidrl already suspected him, he would not be a suspect if he left no witnesses. She could hide in the small, unused dressing room attached to his chamber until he figured out their next move. If he was witnessed setting her free, then they would just have to fight their way out of the palace and hope that she knew how to get them out of the city. His wound presented another concern; he could feel the blood soaking through his bandage. He would have to do something about it or risk leaving a trail leading back to his room.