Blood Betrayal

by Martin V Parece

  Thyss’ eyes burned as she glared at the monster standing before her. She wanted nothing more than to engulf him in a pillar of hellish flame, wanted nothing more than to hack him to bits with her sword. But Feghul’s Claw was gone forever, and her powers did not obey her will where Cor’El was concerned. Whatever it was beyond the power of Hykan that called flame into being instantaneously, his power over it was superior to hers. He looked into her eyes and smiled approvingly, perhaps misreading the fire in them as something else.

  Cor’El blew softly toward her, and much as her sword had before, Thyss’ black silk clothing, the armor that had protected her for decades turned to a mist and was carried away in a gentle breeze. She stood completely naked in front of him, and as she realized that there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent what was about to happen, the blazing hatred in her eyes turned to fear as if a flow of cold water had run across the flames. Anger and hatred turned to fear and loathing.

  She was again on the bed, unable to move, yet able to feel its lavish opulence. She felt everything – his weight upon her as his lips and hands moved about her body. She kept her eyes tightly closed and her face turned to the side away from him. Thyss would have wretched if she could have, but the power of his that held her in place, barely allowing her to breathe, held that in check as well. She had enjoyed many lovers throughout her life, but there was no pleasure here as he violated her. Fortunately, it ended almost as quickly as it started, and though she wanted nothing more than to submerge herself in boiling water to clean his filth away, she breathed a small sigh of relief. However, his weight did not shift, and within minutes he was back at it again. It took much longer for him to reach his climax this time and further degradations were heaped upon her. Fingers were forced into her mouth, as well as other places.

  Thyss attempted to turn into mist as she had done before, but found herself unable to do so. She tried to transmute to water to no avail and even fire, though she knew that she would never regain her human form should she be successful. All of this had no effect except to pause his ministrations for half of a heartbeat. She prayed to Hykan to engulf them both in flames. She prayed to all of her gods for some intervention, some divine act that would terminate what now occurred. She even prayed to Garod, though he had no reason to answer her. None answered her.

  It was into his third time that Thyss wished for death, swift and merciful, from whatever source may bestow it upon her, but yet, no answer came. Her mind seemed to separate itself from her body, insulating itself from the vile horror that he wrought upon her, and she saw the rape of her body as if she floated above it with the bed’s canopy. Her consciousness drifted away, and she knew no longer the torments of Cor’El.

  * * *

  Thyss’ eyelids lifted slowly, faint orange light causing an enormous fiery blur across her vision. She blinked several times to clear it so she may see her surroundings, but she found it did nothing to dispel the slowly fading distortion. Instinctively, she went to rub her eyes, but something restrained her hands at the wrists with a heavy jingle of steel. Her addled mind cleared faster than her sight, and she suddenly remembered the chains. He had produced them from somewhere, maybe even thin air, and clamped a single shackle upon each wrist and each leg just above the ankle, leaving her naked and chained in the most demeaning position possible with her arms and legs spread out from her body.

  Thyss yanked once with both arms and almost cried out with the pain of it. The chains were very nearly taut, and her feeble attempt only caused the iron shackles to cut further into flesh already rubbed raw. How long had she been in them? It dawned on her that the weight of his body was absent from both her and the bed itself, and she listened intently for any sign that Cor’El may be somewhere in the royal suite.

  Hearing nothing, she blinked her eyes several times and gazed across the room as well as she could so restrained, but it looked no different than it had on the number of occasions she had been here to visit Mora. Rugs and carpets of deep blues, purples and plush burgundies floored the entire suite. The fireplaces in both the bedroom and the main room sat cold and empty, which was not abnormal for early summer. The faint orange light came from the open windows as the sun began its final descent into the horizon for the night.

  A sound! From the next room, hinges did not squeal as much as they complained gently, and Thyss knew she must act quickly. She closed her eyes and yanked at the chains again and pulled as hard as her strained muscles would allow, and this time she groaned with both the stress and the pain. She heard booted steps, padded by the carpets, accompanied with the metallic sounds of armor. Panic took her she willed herself to mist, but was unsuccessful, either from the blind fear or her weakened state. She hazarded a glance, and there he was – a black demon from Hykan’s own Hell, silhouetted by the failing sunlight, the gray skin on his bare arms the only detail she could make out.

  Thyss pulled hard against the manacles, completely ignorant of the pain and the blood that began to flow down her wrists. She looked up at them longingly, as if beseeching the chains themselves, which seemed to be made of black wrought iron, to release her. His weight was on the bed next to her, and she shut her eyes and turned her face away as she continued to struggle. A silk sheet was thrown over her naked body, and she ceased her fight, instead focusing on the elements, focusing her will to change her to a form that would allow her escape. She heard him come around to the other side of the bed, the side to which she’d turned her head, and she yanked it back the other way.

  A cold hand, one wrapped in steel, laid upon her forehead, and a voice deeper than Cor’El’s said gently, “Thyss. Thyss, it’s me.”

  Thyss calmed herself as the voice registered in her mind, and she turned back to face the speaker. She opened her eyes to behold a black demon with the gray skin of a Dahken, as she originally had, but not the one she expected. Cor stood before her, wearing the armor that he’d recovered from that ancient tomb in Losz, the black steel reflecting just enough light to make the details of the muscled torso and bug like helm visible.

  “By Hykan,” Thyss hissed urgently, “get me out of here. Get me out…”

  So close to escape, hysteria nearly took her as she repeated the words over and over, again pulling frantically at the chains. He whispered something calming to her, words she did not hear and had no effect, and within moments, the tension on her limbs disappeared completely. She was free, blood stains spreading across the bedding where the chains once were, and her arms and legs wrapped up protectively about her in a fetal position much like a spider curls its legs about it in death.

  “Let me see. Thyss, let me see” Cor implored softly as he peeled one hand away from around her knees to examine the raw bleeding flesh about her wrist.

  A glow pressed against the backs of her eyelids for a moment and then was gone. Thyss no longer felt the fiery burning from where the manacles once were, and she opened her eyes to see the wounds had gone. Cor leaned over her as if to scoop her up in his arms, but she merely wrapped herself up tighter in her cocoon in response. His armored countenance hovered over her inscrutably, only the downturned corners of his mouth visible under the half helm through which only the wearer could see.

  “We haven’t much time,” he said as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking deeply into its surface.

  After a moment or perhaps it was an hour, she couldn’t be sure, Thyss finally willed herself to sit up next to him, matching his pose with her legs dangling off of the edge of the mattress. She wrapped a silk sheet around herself and leaned up against the cold steel of his hauberk, a stark and wonderful contrast against the burning skin of her face and body. Cor carefully wrapped an arm about her.

  “Where are your clothes? Your sword?”

  “They’re…” she paused, “they’re gone. He made them go away.”

  They enjoyed a tenuous silence, one that she was actually content with until Cor asked haltingly, “What did he...?”

&n
bsp; Why must he ask?! Thyss raged in her thoughts. Does he not know? Must he make me face it?

  She sat in silence, not voicing any of these thoughts, until something shattered. It was as if the weight of all the granite and marble of Byrverus had been placed in the center of a dam, and finally the dam broke under the extreme pressure. The raging waters, once held back, flooded forward to engulf any unlucky enough to be in their path. Thyss uttered not one word as she suddenly broke down, a river of tears running down her face as sobs wracked her body. She moaned unintelligibly as it happened, saliva and snot smearing against Cor’s black armor as it all came out. He held her for a long while, how long she really didn’t know, simply allowing the flood to break against him.

  As her body slowly stopped its shaking and the sobs quieted, Cor gently said, “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

  He disengaged himself from her and had almost made it to the next room before she realized he was leaving her alone in the room in which their son had wrought his vile atrocities. She wiped the back of her arm across her eyes, leapt from the bed and ran to him, pulling at his hauberk from behind to turn him around to face her.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I’m going to face him. He’ll be back here soon, I’m sure. Once he is, I’ll do what I must,” Cor coldly repeated sentiments he’d told earlier to Keth and the others.

  “No, not now,” Thyss shook her head.

  “Why not?” Cor demanded not unkindly. “I saw what he did to Rederick and Mora. This ends now, even if I have to kill him.”

  “You can’t, he’s too powerful. Please,” she begged as Cor’s jaw hardened at her words, “just take me away from here, as far as we can go. Please.”

  Cor’s resolve seemed to waver, and his jaw loosened once again as her words found the chinks in his armor. Though she could only see half of it, Thyss could almost read the thoughts plain on his face as he wrestled with the competing notions of revenge and justice against simply wanting to protect and serve her.

  “Thyss,” he replied, but he didn’t complete whatever thought went through his head.

  “Please,” she pleaded with him, tears again streaking down her face, “we’ve lost him. I’ll not lose you as well.”

  Cor loosed a deep breath, appearing to lose almost half of his height and girth, and he nodded silently. He reached down and lifted the trembling Thyss, the terrible sorceress and warrior now broken by acts he dare not contemplate lest they send him into a blind rage, carrying her in his arms to the large double door leading into the royal quarters from the hall beyond. He kicked at the door once, and the two guards left outside by the new emperor pushed them open. Cor strode right between them, started down the hallway, but turned to face them as he thought better of it.

  “You men better flee,” he said to them. “When Cor’El comes back he’ll be none too pleased. I don’t think you want to be around for that.”

  He turned again and plodded down the hallway as swiftly and gently as he could, not turning to see if the Westerners heeded his warning. He crossed the grand hall with its throne, and by the time he reached the entrance into the palace’s dungeon, and the relative safety of the sewers, Thyss snored gently against his steel plated breast.

  Lord Dahken Cor Pelson

  Despite the coming of darkness, Cor kept his warhorse to a steady pace, wanting to put some miles between them and Byrverus before he stopped for the night. Once out of the city, he was able to gallop for a short time in the gloaming, but the light of the stars and half-moon were not enough to maintain it. He allowed the horse to trot until the road turned more treacherous, and they slowed to a walk, not that Aquis’ roads were particularly bad. As a general rule, once a few miles away from such a city as Byrverus, the roads were little more than well-traveled dirt tracks.

  Though the beast, a professional soldier himself, would never complain about to it his master, Cor felt the horse’s muscles growing tired as they worked harder and harder to find their way away from the city with little light. Eventually, he decided that they had crossed enough ground, and he directed the animal off the road, through a hedgerow and into a depression in the plain through which ran a creek. While Cor didn’t expect anyone tracking him at this point, he also saw no reason to keep himself in plain view.

  He did not sleep that night, and Thyss only fitfully, often tossing and turning or even crying out on occasion. He had already healed her wounds, but he could offer nothing to ease her suffering.

  The horse woke them early the next morning, nuzzling Cor from a doze at the first sign of the sun breaking the horizon to the east. The stallion knew a march when he was on one and saw the opportunity for an early start in the chilly morning air before it turned warm with the summer sun. He was thrilled to open his stride into a full gallop for some time, steam issuing from his working muscles as they burned off the dew.

  At times they passed people who merely watched as they rode into the distance, and whether they recognized him for who he was or not, Cor didn’t know. There were lone merchants with laden wagons and whole families attempting to carry all of their worldly possessions, once again displaced by some great and terrible happening in the greatest city of the Shining West. They would come upon entire groups – multiple families, shop owners, laborers and artisans all fleeing together for hope of safety in numbers. The horse had long slowed to a canter and then a trot as the day grew somewhat warm, the sun nearly at its highest point in the sky. For both the exercise and the black armor in which they were both encased, even a mild summer day as this one brought discomfort.

  Thyss showed no sign that the heat concerned her at all, as she was from a place of steamy jungles and parched deserts, but Cor knew there was more to it than that. The trauma she had lived through placed her into a deep silence. She hadn’t spoken a word since he found her on Rederick’s bed. Even when he had pilfered a basic wool tunic and canvas breeches from an abandoned home in Byrverus, clothing the likes of which she would normally have burned to ashes immediately upon seeing, Thyss had no reaction. She merely put them on, leaving on the floor the sheer silk sheet that had been wrapped around her.

  It was shortly after that Cor caught the reflection of the sun off a number of black armored figures off in the distance, and he knew that Keth and his Dahken were only a few miles ahead. He urged his horse back into a gallop to close the distance, gratified that Keth had been able to get so far ahead of him. Larger groups tended to move slower than a single person, or even two sharing the same horse, just for the inescapable fact of feeding them and getting them moving in a timely fashion. After perhaps a half hour, Cor rode past the two dozen Dahken and their cheers to the front of the column and Keth, who seemed content to keep his eyes forward.

  “I am glad to see you, Lord Dahken. Not knowing was… unsettling.”

  “We’re here. It looks like you made good time,” Cor observed, looking back at group behind him.

  A memory flashed into his mind, overlaying itself on those behind him, when once before he had led a group of Dahken away from danger. But these were not the same Dahken. A full dozen of them were grown, carried weapons and wore black plate and chain armor, designed at great expense, at Keth’s direction, to at least resemble Cor’s own. Another seven rode without armor, but they still carried steel attached to belts about their waists or even strapped to their backs. Then there were five more who were smaller children, perhaps ten years and younger, and Cor hoped he could find a way to return them to their parents.

  Finally, in the middle of the column of gray skinned Dahken, Cor spied the ancient Tigolean scholar Ja’Na and his charge Lurana, the daughter of a murdered king and queen. The child said nothing, seemingly staring off into the distance. Though he too said nothing at Cor’s gaze, Ja’Na’s all seeing eyes plainly showed immense grief and consternation. The man shifted his eyes downward to the dust kicked up by the horses.

  “What is your plan when we reach Fort Haldon, Lord Dahken?” Keth asked,
bringing Cor’s attention back around to him.

  “We’re going to continue on through the Spine to Menak. I’d very much like to speak with him,” Cor gravely answered.

  Keth merely gave a slight, understanding nod.

  “I would like my own horse, please,” Thyss calmly stated.

  Cor started slightly, as not only were they the first words he’d heard from her in a day, but also he wasn’t sure he had ever heard her ask politely for anything in the over a decade that he had known and loved her. She had sat on his horse in front of him since they left Byrverus, his arms almost wrapped about her to hold the horse’s reins, and now suddenly faced with her being away from him, he only wanted to hold her closer. Then the wound began to bleed, as he felt suddenly guilty and angry at once that she wanted to leave him, as if his very presence, his Dahken gray skin were a reminder of what she had endured.

  Keth saved Cor from himself by saying, “It is probably a good idea. Your horse has carried both of you, and we do not want to push him to hard. There is a royal milepost in a few miles ahead. We can switch some of our horses there and take whatever others we need.”

  For the second time in as many days, Keth’s cold rationality brought Cor back from a breach he dared not enter.

  Dahk

  Dahk slept profoundly. It was the kind of sleep that is so deep that one doesn’t even realize they’re asleep, so much so that one doesn’t even recognize one’s own existence. It was a rest the likes of which the dead enjoy, but something brought him out of it. At first, he wasn’t even aware of what the something was, he simply knew that he was fast asleep. After a few more minutes, it lightened even more, and he began to dream something twisted and dark with evil laughing faces that he wouldn’t remember later. As something pulled at his consciousness, he knew he dreamt, eventually reaching the point where he consciously ended it, and he finally knew what had pulled him almost all the way to full consciousness.