Tanys Defiant

by Andrew Hunter

  Tanys kicked away the handsome young man with his head buried between her knees and rolled to one side. The blonde girl at Tanys’ breast nipped her playfully as though to punish her for moving, and Tanys shoved her away with an exasperated growl. Flushed with fading passion and growing shame, the raven girl struggled to her feet in the tangled mass of naked limbs. Her knife was gone. Wading through the orgiastic mob of harem slaves, Tanys fought her way to reach Misha, pinned beneath a writhing pile of slaves nearby. The blood mages scattered around the room seemed to take no notice of her, so intensely engaged in magical combat they were. Flashes of unwholesome light filled the room, and thunderous detonations split the air. All around, the scent of smoke and burning flesh hung like a dark fog. Above it all the strange song, grew louder by the moment. It was Carathan’s voice singing. At the center of the room, the battle raged so intensely that all she could see of Carathan’s position was a glowing wall of green flame, incessantly hammered by the blood mages’ dark spells.

  Suddenly the singing stopped. For a moment, deathly silence and darkness filled the room, as though something were drawing in all sound and light. Then it released in a deafening blast that shook the very walls of the delv. The ground seemed to sway beneath Tanys’ feet. She fell forward, upon the mass of bodies that held Misha trapped beneath. Cursing loudly, Tanys began to pull them off her friend. Misha tried to call out to her, but her words were muffled into insensibility as a harem girl with wavy red hair pressed her mouth greedily to the southern girl’s lips. Tanys grabbed a handful of red hair and yanked her clear of Misha’s face. Grabbing Misha’s hand, she pulled the girl free of the mob of blood slaves.

  The dark haired male slave who had been struggling to remove Misha’s skirt staggered after her, his eyes glazed with lust and his manhood monstrously engorged. He lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Tanys in a crushing bear hug, his member jabbing between her thighs, slipping upward, hard and wet, seeking to penetrate her. Arms pinned at her sides, Tanys glowered down at the glassy-eyed boy and hissed in rage through clenched teeth. She reached underneath, grabbing a handful of his offending organs and squeezed hard. He looked up at her with confusion and pain replacing the wanton desire in his eyes. The raven girl twisted her wrist slightly, and he groaned, biting his lip against the pain. The strength failed in his shaking arms and he slumped, falling away as Tanys released her vicelike grip on his testicles.

  Misha gasped out her thanks, wrapping her arms around Tanys almost as tightly as the harem boy had done. Tanys held her close and tried to speak a word of comfort to the trembling southern girl, but her words were drowned out by an eerie and ominous wailing that seemed to emanate from the fire pit in the center of the room. Above the pit, Carathan hung suspended in a fiery web of magical energy. Beneath him, the bars of the grate had melted to glowing stumps at the rim of the pit. Arms above his head, he looked down into the pit from which a gout of steam suddenly exploded, obscuring Tanys’ view of him. Loudly and clearly, she heard his voice, issuing a single command, “Avenge!”

  Long, sinuous tendrils, black and glistening, shot up from the pit and flailed about the room like frenzied tentacles. One wrapped around a blood mage who stood too near the edge of the pit, and it jerked him from his feet with such force that his spine folded back upon itself with a sickening crunch. A moment later his body disappeared into the pit beneath Carathan. Something hot and wet shot past Tanys’ leg. A tendril had snaked beneath the table and touched her as it reached past to wrap itself around the ankle of the red-haired blood slave. The girl screamed shrilly as it dragged her back under the table and into the gaping pit. Tanys looked down to see her leg dark with blood where the thing had touched her, but she felt no wound. It was as if the thing itself were made of living blood. Choking back her revulsion, she forced Misha into action, even as another haremite died, his gurgling cry cut short as a bloody tentacle seized tightly around his neck and pulled his twitching corpse into the steaming maw of death.

  The two women quickly scrambled atop the table, which seemed marginally safer than being on the floor. The blood mages had regained enough composure to renew their assault of dark spells. Blasts of energy sizzled as they struck Carathan’s defenses, each one eroding the magical shields a little more. Carathan was on his feet now, a short distance from the pit, his body swaying in near exhaustion as he worked the magical shields that kept him alive. The black tentacles spilling from the pit seemed to avoid coming near him. Likewise they passed over the terrified Satyr, still chained in the center of the room, fervently chanting in his native tongue and frantically waving his hands in arcane gestures of warding. Across the room, the two warrior guards stood on either side of the crumpled body of Captain Induss, hacking away any blood tendrils that came near them with their yard-long swords.

  A sudden blast of tingling energy washed over Tanys, and she turned to see a blood mage who had just aimed a spell at her. She briefly considered what she’d had to endure to acquire the protective talisman around her neck and decided that it had probably been worth it. Her rage kindled anew, Tanys took a few steps toward the cowering mage with the intent of throttling him barehanded, but a lashing whip of living blood flew up from the depths of the fire pit and did the job for her. The cacophony of screams from blood slaves whose masters had died became almost deafening, even as the blood beast thinned their ranks with each passing moment. The mages seemed to take notice of this horrific attrition as well and turned their attention from Carathan to fighting back the unwholesome beast he had called from the deepest vaults of the delv. All save Klavicus now leveled their darkest spells upon defeating the blood beast, singing away the black tentacles with witchfire until the whole room stank of burning blood. The chief blood mage himself continued to hammer Carathan’s shields with renewed fervor.

  Tanys' hurried search for a weapon had turned up only a solid brass candelabra that might serve as a club. Misha looked at her hopefully as she hefted its weight in one hand. Even now, Carathan stumbled to one knee, his magic beginning to falter. Tanys needed a sword.

  The blood slave warrior staggered as a brass candelabra collided solidly with the side of his metal mask, ringing it like a bell. His dark eyes turned to focus on the warrior woman of the Raven Tribe, standing defiant and unarmed atop the table a few yards away. He gripped his sword tightly and advanced on her, a stream of bloody saliva dribbling from the mouth hole of his mask.

  “Tanys?” Misha’s voice shook a little as her delicate fingers pressed firmly into the flesh of Tanys’ arm for reassurance.

  “Just stay clear, Misha… I’ll take care of this.”

  Misha hopped down from the table and fled to the shadows of the far wall. The blood guard paid no heed to the southern girl, continuing to advance on the raven girl who had wounded him. Tanys snatched up a serving platter, and dove clear of the table, just as the guard reached her. His heavy sword split the wood of the table where she had stood a moment before as she rolled away and came to her feet near the center of the room, holding the platter like a shield in front of herself.

  The table splintered, and a section of the tablecloth fell away in ruins as the guard pried his sword free of the wood. A hollow grunt of rage came from the dark mouth hole of the guard’s rusty mask as he moved to follow her. A ringing blow drove Tanys to her knees and bent her makeshift shield in half. The broken platter slipped from her bruised and stinging fingers, clanging loudly as it hit the floor. Tanys scurried clear again as his sword shattered the thick flagstone at her feet. Things were not going quite the way she had planned… not that she had much of a plan to begin with. The tip of the sword whistled an inch from her belly as she dodged and danced, avoiding his blows by the scantest of margins. She became aware of the heat of the spells blasting away the last of Carathan’s defenses a few feet away as well as the desperate prayers of the chained Satyr nearby. She reasoned that she must be very close to the edge of the fire pit now, and only the imminent threat of the guardsman’s swo
rd kept her from looking back in terror of the black tendrils that must surely be looping hungrily at her very back.

  “Haru!” Tanys shouted to the Satyr, “I need your help!”

  “It’s Haru’Luk, girl!” he shouted in response, “And I’m not in any position to help anyone right now!”

  “Just do what you can, or we’re both dead,” Tanys snapped.

  The guardsman lunged, thrusting his sword directly at Tanys’ chest. She dove to the side, feeling the coldness of the steel passing like an icy whisper across her skin. Her body curled without conscious thought, wrapping itself around the sword arm of the blood guard. Her feet planted for a moment on the hot flagstones before the momentum of the guardsman’s charge bowled her over, but she had done enough. Levering his arm backwards, she turned his charge, tripping him, and both warriors went down in a heap together. The sword struck, tip-first between two flagstones as they fell, sounding out a ringing note as it sprung from the guardsman’s grasp and clattered away across the floor. Tanys rolled after it, but the blood slave’s massive hand closed about her wrist like an iron manacle and pulled her back.

  The guard flung himself atop the raven girl. The crushing weight of his body knocked the wind from her lungs, and his free hand closed around her throat, preventing her from taking another breath. Her left leg and arm pinned, Tanys hooked her right leg around the back of the warrior’s neck and jabbed her right thumb into the eye hole of his rusted mask. He twisted and snarled in pain, but she was unable to gouge deeply or inflict any serious injury to his armored head. Her vision swam with stars as they struggled, their bodies slick with sweat from exertion and the heat of the pit. They writhed in deadly embrace on the hot stones of the floor, until, at last, the huge ghast managed to slide his body upward, now pinning both her legs beneath his massive frame and forcing her to relinquish her grip on his mask.

  Suddenly, she saw a length of silvery chain loop around the warrior’s neck and pull taut. Haru’Luk the Satyr choked the blood slave with all his strength, using the very chain that bound him captive in the center of the room. The guard released him grip on Tanys’ throat, and she gasped for air as the blood slave bucked wildly, trying to throw off the furious satyr that was strangling him. Tanys got a leg free and kicked with all her strength, feeling the guardsman’s grip on her left wrist give way. As she scrambled free, she glanced back to see the pleading look in Haru’s eyes as he mouthed the words, “Don’t leave me!”

  Tanys turned, frantically searching the floor for the guard’s missing weapon. She saw it. Reaching for it, she froze, then leapt back, as a black tendril lashed across the floor between her and the sword. The dripping tip of the tentacle arched up like a serpent poised to strike and then shot toward her with blurring speed. Tanys threw herself prostrate on the flagstones as the tendril cracked like a whip above her, sliding to the edge of the pit itself in her desperate escape. Her right arm and breast slipped over the blood-slick lip of the fire pit, inches from the molten stumps of metal that were all that remained of the iron grate that once covered the pit. For one terrifying moment, she looked full into the horror below. A gaping maelstrom of seething blood and mangled bodies churned in the pit below. From it, the dark tendrils spawned continuously, shooting out of the pit to drag fresh meat into the body of a charnel beast that surged and grew larger with each dying body it sucked into its black gullet. A breath of slaughterhouse stench belched up from the pit, and Tanys rolled quickly away from the edge, her arm and hair singed by the heat of molten metal and magic fire. On her back now, she looked up at the tendril arcing above her, drawing back to lash down with deadly force. There was no way to avoid it this time.

  A blast of witchfire ripped through the snaking tentacle, showering the raven warrior with steaming shreds of clotted blood. Cursing, she vowed silently to thank that particular blood mage for saving her life, just before she killed him. She scurried on hands and knees away from the pit. Tanys’ fingers closed around the hilt of the sword. The fortunes of battle were about to change.

  Haru looked up at her with infinite relief as she stood above the satyr and the blood guard who was now astride him, choking him with his own silver chain. “Don’t move.” Tanys said flatly.

  Haru’s eyes widened, and his face went pale as Tanys’ sword drove cleanly in one side of the guardsman’s throat and out the other. She levered the dead guard off of the faun before withdrawing the blade. A bright gush of blood fountained from the wound and then ebbed slowly into a dark pool on the floor around him. The satyr gazed up in wonder and gratitude for a second then flinched again as Tanys’ blade came whistling down, severing the silver chain that bound him to the ring in the center of the floor.

  Haru stared in disbelief at the broken chain for a long moment before he spoke, “I owe you my life!”

  “Not yet, you don’t,” Tanys said, pointing the bloody tip of her sword toward the remaining guardsman, “We’ve still got another one to deal with!”

  The blood slave guard readied his sword and advanced menacingly, abandoning his post beside the crumpled form of Captain Induss. Haru rose unsteadily beside her, and Tanys prepared herself to meet the guardsman in battle. The three closed the distance between them speedily and the ring of steel on steel sang out above the concussive shocks of wild magic that bespoke the endgame of the wizards’ duel behind them.

  The blood slave proved a more formidable foe than his partner, and Tanys was hard-pressed to parry the killing blows he rained down upon her defenses. Haru saw an opening and stepped in, delivering a solid punch to the warrior’s side. He was rewarded with the meaty crunch of broken ribs and, almost as swiftly, a savage backhanded blow that sent the satyr flying. Tanys’ blade laid open the muscle of the guardsman’s right thigh, but, in doing so, traded him the flesh of her left shoulder which he streaked with a red, stinging wound. He grunted as the tip of her sword pierced his abdomen, twisting free as he turned and raked the dull edge near the hilt of his blade across her bare hip, sending her staggering away, badly bruised. A piece of crockery sailed through the air, striking him in the shoulder, drawing his attention. Tanys spared the briefest of glances toward Misha who stood astride the nearby table with an armload of potential projectiles. The raven girl lunged forward, thrusting her blade into the guardsman’s chest.

  He howled with rage as her blade struck bone and turned, dealing a serious but not mortal injury. Tanys barely snatched her weapon free in time to duck underneath his wildly swinging blade that could have easily removed her head. Tanys danced away and took her sword in both hands as she glared hotly at the gory blood slave who faced her a few steps away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Misha continuing to fling dishes with little effect, and the satyr rising unsteadily to his hooves, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. The ghast warrior saw only the raven girl before him, and he would not stop until one of them was dead.

  With an ear-splitting shriek, Tanys charged. The guardsman’s heavy blade thundered down in a powerful overhand arc to meet her charge, but not fast enough. The tip of Tanys’ blade exploded through his sternum, driving shards of bone into a heart already sundered by cold steel. The pommel of her sword drove hard into Tanys shoulder as she rammed solidly into the warrior’s bloody chest. Her body stung with the force of the impact as she bounced away, losing her grip on the sword, now buried hilt-deep in the blood slave’s chest. His own sword remained standing as he fell, embedded several inches into the shattered rubble of the floor by the force of his strike. He hit the ground on his side with a loud thud, and then rolled almost onto his back, propped up slightly by the length of Tanys’ blade protruding from his ribs. A low death rattle escaped his lips as his massive body went limp.

  “Carathan!” Misha screamed.

  Tanys turned just in time to see the last of the sorcerer’s shields fail. A blast of pale witchfire lifted his body and sent him sliding across the chamber floor, his face blank and staring. Tanys felt hollow and cold inside as she wren
ched the dead guard’s sword from the stones and turned to face the council of blood mages, naked and bleeding. The depraved old men regarded her with hatred and loathing across the steaming pit from which no more blood tendrils rose. Klavicus laughed aloud, a high, girlish giggle of triumph. She wanted to spit in contempt, but her mouth was dry. Her breath came hard, rasping. Her lips were swollen and cracked. She stiffened her aching body and tossed back her tangled ebon hair proudly.

  “Which of you will be the next to die?” she asked.

  “You, I think,” Klavicus snorted. With a wave of his hand, the doors at the back of the hall swung wide, and scores of armored guardsmen swarmed into the room.

  Chapter 13

  Tanys bared her teeth in a feral snarl of rage and charged toward the cluster of old men at the far end of the hall, her sword raised high. The guardsmen spilling into the room could never stop her in time. She sprung upon the nearest mage, swinging her blade down hard upon the magic shield he had hastily raised to protect himself. Her arm stung with the impact of the sword on the impenetrable shield. Remembering the power of her amulet, Tanys brought her foot up in a quick kick to the man’s groin that erased the little smile of triumph on his bearded face. Her leg tingled where it passed through the shield, but the spell had no further effect on her.

  Shifting the sword to her offhand, Tanys rained punches and kicks upon every mage within her reach, sending them scurrying to escape her wrath. She knew it was not enough. A scream from across the room told her the guards had caught Misha. She turned to see several of the men roughly forcing the southern girl to her knees at sword point. Tanys was upon them in a heartbeat. Two lay dead in as many strokes of her sword, and the third staggered back, trying to hold in his guts with both hands even as his sword clattered to the floor beside him. Tanys pulled Misha to her feet and pushed the girl behind her as more guards came, forming a circle around them.