The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  “Apparently, it is called Gothic Lolita, and is popular among the Vampire nobility in some of their Courts. Anette is quite taken with the style. No, I have no idea why they call it that, and no, I cannot understand the appeal. I rarely bother with garments these days, in any case,” Vord stated, gesturing to his form, naked save for the flayed scrap of dragonhide he used for a cape.

  His voice still possessed that odd duality of being audible yet worming into your mind as something more than mere words, and it grated on Dora’s nerves. She endured it stoically and bowed in thanks towards the Lich. She then looked up and, with some difficulty, maintained eye contact with her client’s glowing sockets.

  “Lord Vord, I do appreciate what has been given. However, I am here not because I took on and completed your request to eliminate one of your rogue apprentices, but because you promised me information if I did,” Dora reminded. “Please, no more games! Fulfill your end of the deal and tell me where the Yellowmoon Menagerie is!”

  Her voice cracked with hysterics near the end, and hot tears crept into her eyes as she thought of her family. Vord remained still and silent, an impressive imitation of a statue.

  Finally, after several long, agonizing seconds, he nodded at her request.

  “Very well. A deal is a deal, and I strive to be an Undead of my word,” Vord claimed. “For cleaning up one of my mistakes, I shall impart the knowledge you seek.”

  “The Yellowmoon Menagerie is trapped in the Lost City of Targua,” Vord said. “It is an ancient city of Val’Narash, displaced from time and space during the Great Calamity three thousand years ago. Most of the time it traverses the Aether, popping from one realm to another, never in one place for long. Occasionally it will return to the mortal plane, but not always in the same place it left. Targua is also now a hive of Darkness, the streets awash with demons, devils, and other predators of the Aether. Finding and entering it will not be easy.”

  Dora’s breath hitched in her throat. What? An entire city that moved through the Aether? How could that be?

  “H-how can I find entrance to this place?” Dora demanded. “Could you teleport me into it, or make a spell to let me detect it?”

  “I have upheld my side of the bargain,” Vord stated sharply. “I have told you where your ‘family’ is currently being held. I have no more obligation to you.”

  “Fine, then! Let me go! I will find a way to save them on my own!” Dora shouted, and silver sparks crackled in the air, her eyes glowing white for a brief moment.

  The baleful lights set in Vord’s sockets dimmed slightly, mimicking narrowed eyes, and he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground in response to her tone and her uncontrolled burst of magic. A wall of pressure slammed into the half-orc’s shoulders. She fell to her knees, gasping as her breath was stolen by the suddenness of the attack.

  “Watch your words and your tone with me, child. I am master of this domain, and I will only tolerate the presence of your Light so long as you keep a civil tongue and a leash on your powers,” Vord warned. “Do not take my assistance of you as a sign I like you. I merely do so because I needed someone to do my, as you put it, ‘dirty work.’ I gave you the answer to the question you sought.”

  After a couple more seconds of subjecting Dora to the grinding force he’d released, the Undead ceased the assault and let the pressure ease. The Healer, however, remained on her knees gasping and shivering. Vord had reminded her that he could and would break her if she posed a threat.

  It took a while, but Dora managed to recollect her nerves. ‘I am not weak! If I can fight off a Demon Lord, I can stand in this… this thing’s!… presence!’ She reminded herself. So, she did so, getting back on her feet with a force of will that surprised her briefly.

  “However, I am not the only one you currently have a contract with,” the Lich added after watching Dora hold back her tears and stand defiantly before him.

  She looked up at him with an angry yet confused expression, but held her tongue, waiting for him to elaborate.

  “If I recall correctly, you promised my newest apprentice that you would play with her,” Vord said, tapping his chin thoughtfully while a sick amusement suffused his voice. “I’m sure a day or two would be more than enough to fulfil that particular obligation of yours.”

  “I, what, but, no, huh?” Dora stammered, caught off guard. “I, I did say I would play with her, but, um, that wasn’t a binding contract or anything! J-just a verbal pledge!”

  “If I recall, the deal between you and myself was even less than that. I told one of my contacts beyond the Solemn Mausoleum to inform you of what I desired, and you went on your merry way to do my bidding with nary an argument. There was no signing a contract, just a vocal statement that, yes, you would eliminate the fool who sought to overrun Rahmal’Alram with zombies in exchange for knowledge,” Vord reminded her.

  As Dora gawped at the Lich, he tapped his staff lightly against the wall. The door opened, and the Healer’s skeletal escorted appeared.

  “Take Lady Dora to Anette’s room. She has a playdate scheduled,” Vord said, a cruel smirk clearly audible in his words.

  “No! No, please, I don’t have time!” Dora cried. She tried to step forward to protest, but a firm and unyielding bony hand clamped onto her shoulder and began to drag her out of the audience chamber.

  “Please! I don’t want to play, I don’t!” the half-orc begged. “My family needs me! Please, let me go! I can’t do this! Not now! Not like this!”

  Vord laughed aloud in cruel mirth as he watched the Healer forcibly removed from his sight, forced to have fun. How amusing! Normally, people only fought and struggled that hard when he ordered them to be taken to the torture chambers, or the rooms of one of his more sadistic minions. How droll to see a woman resist spending time with a child as if it were the worst punishment conceivable. Though the Lich supposed it very well had been in her mind.

  He stroked his chin in thought, a habit he continued to use despite no longer having much of a chin to stroke. ‘I should restart my experiments with new methods of torture and punishment. Not all things have to be painful in a physical sense. Perhaps Anette would be willing to share her new toy with me for a bit.’

  ∞.∞.∞

  Dora stood awkwardly in the center of Anette’s room, eyes shifting as she took in the sights of the young Necromancer’s personal quarters. It was three times larger than Dora’s guest room, and it was crammed full of various articles of furniture, clothes, toys, and miscellaneous goods.

  In many ways, it was a room that immediately said a young girl lived in it. There was lots of lace and cute, stuffed animal toys lying around, as well as a few sewing and make-up kits on a nearby desk. Based on that alone, it was clear the occupant was in fact a young child.

  However, there were clear signs in Anette’s room that she was not a normal kid. Rather than pink, the colors in her room were all various shades of red. The walls, carpet, furniture and bed sheets ranged from crimson, to wine, to blood, to many other reds in between. Only the toys and clothes scattered about showed other colors, but even they were muted or dark, from blue to purple to dark green.

  And, of course, most children, regardless of age, gender, or status, did not possess magical tomes detailing the best way to skin a cat to create an Undead Familiar, or kept spare body parts from failed zombie experiments stored in jars. Or took such pleasure in showing off these macabre trophies.

  “…and this one is from when I tried to make a chicken lay Undead eggs! It didn’t work, but grandpa said it was an interesting experiment,” Anette babbled happily. Dora grinned weakly, staring with morbid fascination at the pickled egg floating in the jar the younger girl was holding. She could tell with her magic senses that based on whatever Necromancy had been used on it, if the egg has been viable and hatched, whatever came out would have become a brand-new species of monster. The Healer hoped Anette would not come back to this particular experiment in the future when she was older and had more
control on her powers.

  And powers she had, in spades! Anette possessed more magical power than anyone she’d ever met, save Vord himself. Not even Ain or Enrai, the elf and Monk who’d helped her liberate Rahmal’Alram, had wielded this much raw magical potential! And it was all geared towards a single Element: Darkness itself.

  Like the Element of Light, the Element of Darkness – also known as Dark – was a rare one, and few mortals were ever born with it as a natural alignment. Dora and her mother, Irene, had both been blessed to have the Element of Light as their natural alignment. Healing was just one of the many talents they could have learned. Anette, on the other hand, was destined to be a Necromancer with the sheer amount of Darkness in her mana. Had she been found by someone who cared, she could have been inducted as a trainee in the Grey Shroud, the order of sanctioned Necromancers who served Selika as caretakers of the dead and exorcists of foul souls. Instead, it appeared Vord had found her first, and taken her under his wing.

  “Have any of your experiments ever worked?” Dora asked hesitantly as Anette reached for a jar containing a severed hand that still twitched at times. The young girl beamed up at the half-orc and nodded rapidly.

  “Uh-huh! Look at this! Lazlo, come here!” At her command, one of the stuffed animals, a dog, rose from the pile of plush toys and with a shaky gait walked over to her. She smiled and pet the animated toy on the head.

  She then ripped off the head of the toy dog in a single, vicious tug and showed it to Dora, who gasped as she saw a tiny canine skull stuffed inside the head of the fake dog. A quick glance back at the neck stump showed a few vertebra poking out from the fluff pouring from the hole.

  “It took me forever to pin the skeleton in place and then put it inside of Lazlo,” Anette said cheerfully, as if it was completely normal. “But it was worth it, and now he can walk and is much softer to pet and cuddle. Bones are hard and not fun to hug.”

  “I see. Are all of your toys able to walk and play with you on their own?” Dora asked cautiously, realizing anew just how many stuffed animals there were in the room, with some of them as large as she was!

  “Only a few. Grandpa says I can’t practice my magic on anything bigger than I am,” Anette said with a pout, reattaching Lazlo’s skull to the rest of his body. She then fetched a sewing kit and stitched the fabric back together around the neck.

  “How about we talk about something else?” Dora pleaded. Anette shrugged.

  “Great!” The Healer then paused to think of a question about Vord that wouldn’t seem too probing. “So, how long have you known Vord, I mean, your grandfather?”

  “Papa and I met Grandpa last year,” Anette said softly, focused on carefully stitching her toy back together. “He saved us from meanies who were chasing us.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Dora said drily. “I mean, who would possible want to bother a Dullahan and a little girl who can perform Necromancy so easily?”

  “I know! That’s what I said!” Anette exclaimed, looking up at Dora with a wide grin. The sarcasm had flown completely over the little girl’s head, and for that, the half-orc was thankful.

  “Is Vord a good teacher? Does he treat you well?” Dora asked softly. Anette nodded somberly.

  “Grandpa is the best. He never hits me for using my magic, and never shouts, or calls me a freak or a monster. He’s always nice and helpful,” she said quietly, her hands starting to tremble. Dora noticed, and quickly took the toy and the sewing kit from her and finished up the work of putting the stuffed dog named Lazlo back together.

  “There, good as new!” Dora declared, handing it back to Anette who grabbed the toy and cuddled it close. She held onto the bone-filled plush like a drowning man would to a floating piece of driftwood, and once more Dora felt her heart pang in sympathy for her plight.

  “I bet your dad is super nice as well. Really strong and always protecting you,” Dora said, thinking of the way the Dullahan had acted around the young girl back in the Gorge.

  “Papa is super nice,” Anette agreed with all the fervor a young child could. She then looked up at Dora. “Do you have a nice papa?”

  “I don’t know who my father is,” Dora admitted after a long pause. “My mother would never tell me.”

  “Oh. Is your mama nice?”

  “She was the most amazing woman in the world. No one else was as kind, as loving, or as talented a Healer as her,” Dora claimed, wiping some moisture from her eyes.

  Anette reached out and patted the half-orc on the leg. “I bet she loved you a lot too.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, she did. More than I can possibly imagine,” Dora said with a sad shake of her head.

  “Do you want me to summon her for you?” Dora’s whole body went still when Anette asked that question. As the Healer looked down in shock at her, she blithely continued on. “I’m not that good with calling out for people who are already in the Afterlife, and grandpa said I shouldn’t do so until I’m older and better with my magic, but if you want I could try it for you?”

  Two emotions waged war within Dora’s soul. The first, immediate reaction to the offer was fury. How dare she make that claim? How dare she use her filthy magic to touch her mother’s soul?! But the second reaction to Anette’s offer was longing. More than anything she wanted to see her mother one last time, whatever the cost.

  In the end, what won out was neither anger and indignation, nor was it hope and agreement. It was guilt that she had felt both of those things, and acceptance that this was not how she wanted to meet her mother. One day, she would see her again. Just not today.

  “No. Thank you, truly, for the offer, but I will wait until it comes time for me to meet her again,” Dora said with a quavering voice. “Besides, I think your grandfather and your dad might be angry with both of us if we try to do a spell like that without their permission.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Anette said quietly. The two sat on the bed for a while. Then, the younger girl looked up. “Want to play?”

  Dora smiled. It was shaky, but genuine. “Sure. Do you have any stuffed horses? I’ve always loved those animals in any form.”

  Chapter 6: Ivory and Silver

  Several hours passed by in a blur for Dora. She and Anette had entertained themselves with plenty of games and activities. After Anette had grown bored of playing with her dolls and stuffed toys, Dora showed her some tricks she knew about make-up, which caused the younger girl to squeal in joy.

  Then, they had played dress-up for a while. Anette owned a large number of clothes in a variety of styles. None were Dora’s size, but the young Necromancer had a magical tool that could grow or shrink clothes. The half-orc wondered idly if the Dullahan, or even Vord himself, had been roped into playing with the clothes since she could adjust them to practically any size.

  A loud growl from both her and Anette’s stomachs broke them out of the warm, fuzzy haze they’d lost themselves in. The two broke out into giggles as they heard their bellies cry out for food.

  “Should we get something to eat?” Dora suggested.

  “Yay! Let’s get lunch!” Anette cheered. The half-orc blinked in surprise, then checked the time with a quick spell. She gasped as she stared at the numbers.

  ‘1 pm?! Have we been playing all night and into the afternoon? No, wait, actually, come to think of it, I have no idea when I woke up from my fainting spell,’ Dora wondered. ‘Going to have to ask someone about that.’

  “Yeah, lunch sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dora agreed.

  “This way, this way!” Anette cheered, pulling on the Healer’s arms and leading her to the door. Opening it revealed the two Undead standing at attention outside. One was the skeleton butler assigned to Dora, the other was Anette’s ‘father,’ the Dullahan.

  At the sight of their respective charges, both beings stood up straighter and at attention.

  “Papa, we’re hungry,” Anette declared to her Undead companion. The Dullahan nodded and began to walk off. The young Necromancer following behind,
still holding onto Dora, and the uniformed skeleton brought up the rear.

  “How do you navigate this place? It’s huge, and full of twisting, winding paths!” Dora complained as she was brought into a new section of the Solemn Mausoleum.

  The place was too big! And the proportions of some of the rooms and spaces were odd, as if designed for something a bit larger in size than a human. There was also the fact that she hadn’t seen any stairs. Everything appeared to be on a flat plane, but after a while the half-orc realized there were slight curves and bends that formed gentle slopes. It explained why the hallways were so long and twisted; they had to be in order to go from one level to another without stairs using only an incline.

  “It’s tricky. I get lost all the time!” Anette stated, oddly proud of that fact.

  “Dear Honored Guest, as long as you are accompanied by a servant, you will not become lost in the Solemn Mausoleum. Every servant has the knowledge of a map implanted inside of our seals,” the butler skeleton declared. “Be warned: In the event you do become lost, try not to move or enter any unknown rooms. Traps, defenses, and ornery inhabitants might make your life and Undeath unpleasant.”

  “Thank you for that,” Dora muttered, shivering.

  Papa the Dullahan let out another one of his echoing snorts, before pushing open a door that led to a dining hall. There was only a single, albeit long, table set up at the moment, but there was enough space to host an entire banquet if Vord so wished.

  For some reason, the thought of the Lich hosting a party like she envisioned nobles might do made her snicker. And when she whispered into Anette’s ears her thoughts and how silly Vord would look in courtly garb, the girl laughed too.

  “Grandpa would never wear pantaloons!” Anette giggled.

  “I don’t know. Maybe if you asked really nicely, he might do it for you,” Dora chuckled. Anette tilted her head, looking thoughtful at the Healer’s words.

  “If you can convince Master Vord to put on pantaloons, or pants of any kind, I would pay good gold to see it,” a slippery, wet voice called out. Dora and Anette looked over at the table, spotting a hunched and cowled figured slurping noisily over a bowl of soup.