Eye of the Goddess

by Cat Wilder

  "How is it?" Tara asked her.

  "Perfect."

  "Excellent," she said. Then turning to Padraig with a smile, "Tell us, Captain Padraig, just where is the Eye of Varissa?"

  He looked startled.

  "What? The Eye of... I’ve never heard of it."

  "I’m truly sorry to hear that. Ciara?" she said and pushed the dirty socks into his mouth. "He’s all yours."

  Tara's hand began stroking his shaft, making it swell and lengthen despite his fear and uncertainty. She smiled at him when he stared at her.

  "Why thank you." Ciara ran the flat of her dagger up his inner thigh from the knee to the groin. Yeah, that got the pirate captain's attention. "Oh my, aren’t we well-endowed? Let’s all hope you still are when I finish."

  Padraig moaned miserably.

  "You never slept with him?" Tara asked.

  "Of course not," the elfmaid said. "Did you?"

  "Many times," she admitted, shrugging.

  "Is he any good?"

  "Quite good, actually," Tara said. Her hand continued to stroke him to ever increasing hardness. "I mean, just look at the size of him. But, he was a pretty selfish lover."

  Tara held the socks in his mouth while Ciara began carving into his chest. He screamed and bucked to no avail. Tara looked the other way during this time. Pirate or not, Tara found what they were doing repulsive. The thought occurred to her that the jewel wasn’t worth this. But then she remembered what Padraig had planned for her and Ciara.

  "Enough?" Ciara said.

  Tara pulled the socks out, "Where is the Eye of Varissa?"

  "I... I can’t... Please," he gasped.

  Stuffing the socks back in, "Ciara."

  Ciara began carving again, this time a little lower. She carefully carved out the thin, but deep, strips of skin. If he was permitted to live, he would be scared for life. Though Ciara also had an aversion to torture, Tara knew her friend liked to think she was practical about it and used it judiciously. That was not the first time Ciara had done something like that. When finished, she eyed her handiwork and smiled in satisfaction.

  Then cleaning off the blood with a sheet, "Finished. I don’t think our friend here will ever be able to forget us now."

  Tara glanced down and smiled. Ciara had carved their names across his chest. She had carved the name ‘Ciara’ on his chest and then ‘Tara’ across his belly.

  Turning back to Padraig, "Would you like to talk now? Or would you prefer that I have Ciara carve some love poetry into your flesh?"

  "Oh. I got the perfect poem. I wrote it for that new crewman on Valiant," Ciara said. "But it’s kind of long. I’m afraid I’ll have to use his legs, arms, and back, too."

  "I don’t have a problem with that. But let’s ask him one last time," Tara said.

  She pulled the socks out again and waited as he sucked in deep breaths.

  "It’s in...a secret compartment...well guarded," he said between breaths.

  "By magic?" Ciara asked.

  "No, not exactly. There’s no need. No one would ever think to look there."

  "Where?" Tara asked. "And what do you mean by ‘not exactly.’"

  "In the guard’s sleeping chamber. There’s a small compartment under the floor in the center of the room. The Eye of Varissa is there along with several other especially valuable jewels," he said, looking back and forth between the two women nervously. "It’s under the only round flagstone and exactly in the center of the chamber. The flagstone covering it is sealed by magic, but the spell is simple enough to reverse. You just tap it three times with a knife and say the Word of Power, parnisha. If it’s the right stone, then you’ll see the edges glow brightly for a second."

  Tara looked at Ciara and smiled. "And you didn’t think he was our friend." She gave the terrified pirate captain a peck on the cheek.

  "I have to admit that I am ashamed of myself. Can you ever forgive me, Padraig?" she asked, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

  He looked at her like she was scary crazy.

  "I told you what you wanted, so you’re not going to kill me, are you?" he asked.

  She could feel him shaking. So much for that whole fearless pirate myth.

  "That depends," Ciara said, stroking his cheek.

  "On what?"

  Rolling her eyes dramatically, "On whether or not the Eye of Varissa is where you said," she said. "You’re such a silly boy." She then broke up giggling.

  After kissing Padraig again, Tara said, "Don’t go anywhere. We’re going down to steal your little cache of jewelry. Let us all pray you’re not lying – for your sake."

  Chapter 17

  Baart sat in the corner watching the gamblers. He didn’t understand how they could be so carefree when his world was crashing down around him. He took a long swallow out of the nearly empty wine jug.

  It was clear to him that Padraig was going to let Tara get away without punishment. She had humiliated and mutilated him and he wasn’t allowed to touch her. All he could think of was her hanging in there helpless. It would be so easy, so safe. Why couldn’t that godless pig of a pirate see it?

  He had tried to convince his overlord that they would be very careful. He had been taking women for over fifteen years and most weren’t nearly as well-secured. The gods Themselves couldn’t have escaped those chains. Why couldn’t Padraig see that?

  If the bitch had bitten his tongue off it would be a different story, I’m sure, he thought and took another swallow.

  They'd had posted Yarus to guard the prisoners. Apparently, the disenfranchised nobleman was the only one Orjan and Padraig felt could be trusted with two helpless women. Yarus was the one man he couldn’t rely on to allow him access against Padraig’s orders. For all his faults, Yarus had the nobleman’s keen sense of Honor and Duty instilled in him. He would likely rather die than violate his vaulted codes.

  Gods, I’d sell my left nut to pull that duty.

  He threw the near empty jug across the room in frustration. It shattered against the granite walls beside the gamblers, the red wine staining it darkly. The other men stopped and looked at him a second before returning to their game.

  The other guards knew better than to mess with the moody orc at times like this. The best thing to do was just ignore him. Hopefully, he would quietly pass out in the corner and leave them alone.

  Baart staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the unstained pine cabinet sitting in the corner. As he swayed on his feet, he fumbled with his key ring until he found the proper key. He unlocked the small padlock and opened the door to reveal several jugs of wine. Without checking the labels, he grabbed the first one and headed back to his spot against the wall, leaving his keys in the lock and the door open.

  He pulled the cork out as he slid back into a sitting position. Hitting the floor hard, he spilled red wine all over himself and fell to his side. Then righting himself, he started sucking on this new bottle, looking for sweet oblivion.

  As it grew later, more and more of the men dropped out of the game and went to bed. Soon only the winners and diehards were left. Some stayed even though they didn’t have any money, just to see who did win. You never knew, it might be someone that owes you money.

  Baart sat in the corner stewing. The more he thought about it, the more it just didn’t seem fair. Padraig had no right to forbid them from taking their pound of flesh from the women. Tara owed him. Besides, he was probably going to get the boot the next day anyway. The more he thought of it, the more he was able to justify defying Padraig’s order.

  Standing, "Pa'raig can’h or’er me aroun’ anyh more." He steadied himself with one hand. "Zee bish belongs ‘oo me. I caugh’ her and I’ll doh anyfang I wan’ ‘oo her. Pa'raig can shuck my ‘ick if he don’ like ih."

  "Now Baart, don’t do it," Masi said.

  "She’s goh ‘oo pay, Mazi. I can’h call myzef a warrior if I don’ do zomefing," Baart said.

  "I know, but Padraig will take it out of your hide if you disobey
his orders, remember Pete?"

  Baart did remember Pete. The memory sent a chill up his spine. Pete had been in charge at night before Baart. One night he had disobeyed the steward. Three days later his tortured body was pulled from the canal. It had made a lasting impression on everyone there. If Padraig tortured Pete to death for disobeying Orjan, he couldn't imagine how horrific the punishment would be for defying the pirate captain. Baart swallowed hard and sat back down.

  Baart withdrew into himself even more. He felt totally helpless to control his own destiny. It always seemed there was someone, like Padraig or Tara, to spoil everything. Somehow life always slapped him down, brutally.

  Tara’s laughing taunts kept haunting him. He could still see the look of scorn and disgust on her face. He wanted to beat the arrogance out of her more than anything he had ever wanted. The humiliation was more than he could take.

  The orc staggered to his feet while the other’s attention was on a cast of the dice. He stumbled out of the room without a sound and headed for the interrogation chamber, and Tara. As he walked, he pulled his sword. If Yarus got in his way, then he would send the young nobleman to an early grave, too.

  Baart was almost to the interrogation room when he heard Masi cry out.

  "Gods!" Masi shouted. "Baart’s gone. If he’s touched that wench, we’re all finished."

  He scowled when he heard them approaching at a run, their arms and armor clanging. He turned to confront them, over-balanced and staggered backwards into the wall. He had a bottle in one hand and his sword in the other.

  "Hey, Baart, you know better than this," Masi said, stepping between Baart and the door. "You want Padraig to skin you alive?"

  "Ouh of my wayh, Mazi. You ‘one behn a goo’ fren ‘oo me," he lisped. "I goh ‘oo avensh mysef foh wah she ‘one ‘oo me."

  Baart tried to reach around the old orc for the door handle. Masi kept moving between him and the door.

  "Zanh asihe, or elseh," he growled and brandished his weapon.

  "What did he say?" Rik asked.

  "Not sure. Get out of my way or else?" Jarl replied.

  "Shut up," Masi said. He turned back to Baart and grimaced. "I am your friend, Baart. That's why I have to stop you. I don't want you to die."

  Baart growled and thrust his sword at Masi.

  Masi easily grabbed Baart’s wrist and twisted his arm back. He forced his drunken friend back from the door and then to his knees. Then with a savage twist, he forced Baart to drop the sword with a small cry of pain.

  Several of the guards helped Masi drag him back down the passage. No one noticed that Yarus wasn’t outside the door and failed to step out to see what was going on. All they could think of was what would happen to them if Baart succeeded.

  Baart was deposited back in the small room. They debated whether or not to take him back to his bunk, but decided against it so they could keep an eye on him. After a while he passed out. Everyone sighed in relief. Not only would Padraig have punished Baart for disobeying him, but they wouldn’t have entirely escaped either. He could be rather spiteful when angered. Padraig would have blamed the other guards for allowing Baart to violate his orders. But now with Baart sleeping, they could relax and enjoy their game of dice in earnest.

  With the possible exception of Masi, no one was really concerned about whether or not they got a shot at one or both of the women. Both women would be brutally tortured and disfigured, butchered in the most horrific way imaginable, and then their bodies would be dumped in the street. Their bosses liked to make examples like that. The brutal act of torturing to death such beautiful women would give all would-be thieves cause to think twice and again.

  Few of the guards currently there had been around long enough to have partaken in any of previous tortures. They had all heard the stories, both from the locals and the other guards, and for the most part had done similar deeds themselves. Padraig preferred to hire only the most morally corrupt men he could find.

  Chapter 18

  Tara opened the door a crack and peeked out. She studied the hallway intently for a moment. Satisfied that it was clear, she turned back to the room. Ciara was picking through Padraig’s clothes looking for anything of value she could take. Then Tara spotted the ancient book on the floor.

  She went over and picked it up. She ran her hand over its covering thoughtfully. It was priceless. Any wizard would pay dearly for it. Besides, she didn’t like the fact that such a man as Padraig possessed such a wonder. She opened her shirt and placed it there.

  Padraig moaned miserably through the gag. She looked at him and smiled before returning to the door. She had a feeling the book meant more to him than the Eye of Varissa.

  "Are you ready?" Tara asked.

  "Yeah. Nothing else here to steal, but are you sure about leaving him alive?" Ciara asked, casting a dark look on her former captain. "If he gets loose…"

  Tara cringed. She'd worried about the same thing. The raven-maned Takaran sighed and shook her head. As dangerous as he was, Tara couldn't just kill him like that. He was helpless. It would dishonor her to do such a deed, or even let Ciara do it.

  "No, we need him alive in case he lied to us," she said. "In which case, I'll let you torture him to death."

  That wasn't true, but Ciara had been a pirate many years. Losing her honor wasn't a worry for her. Tara still thought of herself as a hero, a person of honor. The whole pirate thing was troublesome, but she felt she could overcome it with time.

  A girl has to have a dream.

  After easing the door open, Tara stepped out and looked both ways. There was no one to be seen or heard. Ciara followed her out, closed the door, and locked it. She handed Tara the key, who put it back into the little pocket sewn inside the top of her right boot.

  They started down the hallway toward the stairs with Ciara against the right wall and Tara the left. The house was still quiet. At the stairs, Tara started down but stopped as the sound of her footsteps echoed through the stairwell. It was only a tiny sound, but in her hypersensitive state of mind they sounded like horses crossing a wooden bridge. She paused a second to listen for any sounds of guards rushing toward them. Then she moved over to the thick red carpet laid down the center of the stairs.

  Tara was halfway to the second floor before she realized she was alone. She turned to find Ciara staring off down the hallway. So she started back up the stairs.

  "What’s the matter? You hear something?" she asked.

  "No. I was just thinking."

  "Well?"

  "Huh? Oh," Ciara said coming out of her reverie. "There are more guards on the roof. Maybe it would be better to take them out first. Then we won’t have anyone in our way afterwards."

  Tara considered that a moment. "No. The next time I go up there is to leave this bloody place. Besides, we don’t know how many are up there now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were ten or more now. We might not be able to defeat them all and be forced to jump over into the canal without what we came for. Let’s get the jewel first and then go up. And then if we have to jump, at least we’ll do it with more than we arrived with."

  Nodding, "You’re right."

  Ciara turned and tripped over her own foot. She fell, sliding head first down the stairs on her belly. Halfway down she began to tumble. At that time, she lost hold of her sword, which clanked down beside her.

  Tara jumped out of the way and watched in horror. She just knew the whole city was awakened by the noise. Ciara and sword finally came to a rest on the second floor landing.

  Taking two to three steps at a time, Tara descended towards her friend. Ciara lay sprawled on the floor with the sword a few feet away. Tara knelt beside her as she sat up.

  "Gods, that was fun," Ciara said, clearly pleased.

  "Fun? You probably woke the whole city."

  "Good. People waste too much time sleeping."

  "You’re crazy."

  "Of course. I follow you, don’t I?"

  "I can’t argue with logic
like that," Tara said and helped her up.

  Picking up her dropped blade, Ciara said, "Whoa. I found all my lost aches and pains again." She stood up straight and rubbed her chest and belly. "We used to do something like that back home when I was a kid, except we slid down a steep snowy hill on a sled."

  They started back down the stairs again as they tried with reasonable success to suppress their drunken giggles. Tara was astonished how easily she was giggling. Ciara tended to giggle even when she was sober, but not Tara. Only when she was drunk on wine did Tara ever giggle. Ale tended to strip her of what few inhibitions she had, as did wine, but she never got the giggles from it. And she had been alternating between ale and wine all night. Now she cursed herself for it.

  Deep down Tara knew they weren’t in any condition to be robbing anyone, much less such a well-defended house. But she had a chip on her shoulder now and aimed to prove she and Ciara were equal to, if not better than, their shipmates.

  Of course, if we just left and went back to the ship, none of our crewmates would know we even tried, she thought. She glanced at Ciara, who looked so full of life and eagerness it made her all tingly proud. We can do it.

  Tara led the way down the stairs, through the study, and down the hallway to the kitchen. Ciara followed a few feet behind and watched their rear. They neither saw nor heard any evidence of roving guard patrols. The door to the kitchen was closed and Tara eased it open. She found the kitchen empty. They entered cautiously and headed for the stairs leading down under the house.

  Holding her breath, Tara opened the door and looked down into the dark passage. She listened closely, but heard nothing. Glancing back, she found Ciara facing the other direction and guarding their rear. So she tapped her shoulder and waved her onward.

  Tara moved down the stairs slowly and quietly. She could hear Ciara following, so she turned her full attention downward. It was deathly dark and silent. She was sure the oil lamps were running out of oil, because the scant light looked even dimmer than before.