Now, Dale began to remember. It was true; he had not actually committed that particular rape and killing. But it fit so well with his bad life that it had become real to him.
“Trista—where did you go?”
She smiled. It did not light up the chamber; she was pretty but not beautiful. “I went to the sages to ask their advice. They took me in, and I became a housemaid for them.” She smiled again. “Such chores are necessary things, even among the exalted, and the work is steady. I have never gone hungry or been brutalized again. My name means ‘girl of sorrow,’ but I am reasonably happy here. It's much better than traveling with a gang. I was raped many times before I came here, just not by you. Your advice to me was good.”
“I am glad,” Dale said sincerely. “Not about the rapes. About your happiness.” Then he turned back to the Sages. “You saw me coming! You knew about that awful incident.”
We knew, the gray haired sage agreed. We are granting you and your companion passage to Alfen Gulfadex.
Dale bowed his head. “Thank you.”
There was no response. They had tuned him out. Only Trista remained, as it were. “Farewell,” she said. Then she walked away.
Chapter 7
Benny
B enny walked for a day and a night from the outcropping where the Voot had shown him the escape from the dungeons. He did not know how he would rejoin his companions; indeed, he could not remember how they had become separated. But at least he was free to search for them.
He finally came to the small village the path served. It looked undistinguished, not a great place to learn much. He was disappointed and frustrated. So, the first thing he did was go to the local tavern and begin drinking. He knew this was not the best procedure—in fact, it was probably downright foolish—but at least it would dull his mind for a few hours. Maybe something would occur to him. Or maybe he would get lucky and run into someone he knew. Away from his friends, and especially away from Virtue, he felt unmoored. He needed her steadying influence in his life.
Damn that raid, or whatever it was that broke up their party! They had important business to accomplish, a world to save, and here he was, floundering alone among strangers. It was probably no better for the others, assuming they still lived. He veered away from that thought; they had to be alive! Regardless, it was endlessly aggravating.
A new party barged into the tavern, demanding the best ale. Benny felt a shiver. One of those voices was somehow familiar. Where had he encountered that man before? It was not a pleasant association. But he kept quiet, because even when on the way to getting drunk he knew better than to tip his hand too early. He needed to know what he was up against before he got into a fracas.
Then, the man recognized him. “Benny! Benny the Boob!” he exclaimed. “So we meet again. Don't pretend you don't know me. Onion Belasco, Elf Warrior Extraordinaire! Congratulations on escaping the bear trap!” It was larded-on sarcasm, but it did one invaluable thing: it gave Benny a memory flashback. Suddenly, he remembered what had been blocked before.
The companions had just passed into the border of Upper Sultry: Benny, Dale, Helena, and Burgundy, sharing stories from their past. They were passing through a narrow gorge, left by a temporary river during flood season, harmless in the dry season.
“My mother died at a young age,” Dale said. “My father abandoned me. I was adopted by the Beranger family. They—”
“What's that noise?” Helena asked, glancing up. She was generally the most alert to the environment. But before they could react, nets came whirling over the upper contours of the gorge from either side, dropping on them. Then they were fallen upon by Kudgel soldiers. They had somehow blundered into an ambush!
They fought, but were overwhelmed by dozens of soldiers who used the ropes and nets to entangle them and their weapons so that, soon, they were hopelessly caught. The object was evidently capture rather than slaughter. They were unable to prevent the Kudgels from thoroughly trussing them up. They were helpless.
Now, they were hauled before an elf mercenary and his henchmen. “Onion!” Dale exclaimed, recognizing him. “Onion Belasco.”
“The same, scarface,” the elf said. “Times change, eh?”
“How did you catch us?” Dale asked. “We told no one what our specific route was.”
Onion laughed. “We tracked you throughout, idiot. We spread attractive magic beacons about, of special interest to dwarves, knowing that eventually one would be found and picked up.”
“Damn!” Burgundy said. He managed to pull a bright bead from his pocket and drop it to the ground before him. “I should have known it wasn't just lying there!”
“You should have, moron,” the elf said. “But you were never the sharpest arrow in the quiver, were you? We tracked you, and thus your party, from afar, until we saw where your route had to be. Right through the gorge! Where we could lie in wait without making a sound. It was ideal.”
“I heard you breathing,” Helena said.
“Sharp hearing, barbarian squaw! But too late, eh? We'll make good use of you, once we get that armor off your torso and put a mail hood over your face so you can't bite. But first, we have to interview the four of you. Business before pleasure, you know.”
Helena was silent, knowing as they all did that “interview” was a euphemism for torture. Rape was the least of the ordeals they faced.
Onion eyed Dale. “Not so big, now that Cycleze is no longer here to hold your leash or get you out of sticky situations you blunder into, eh, big boy?”
Dale did not answer.
“Now that Marty is a hopeless drunk, and Laughing Jack's no longer laughing.” He was obviously trying to goad Dale into a response so he could rub it in further. “In fact, now that Jack, who was once a long-haired, loud-mouthed dandy, died a fat, bald cripple.”
Benny clenched his teeth. This was a monstrously unfair characterization. But Dale held firm. There was nothing to be gained by trying to argue.
“The Ferocious Four are no more! You're the last man standing.” Onion continued, facing Dale. “But not for long.” His smile was ugly.
The Kudgels efficiently carried them to a tent where they were dumped, bound by hands and feet. There they were left.
This was Interrogation 101: leave the prisoners alone together and let them talk in seeming privacy, perhaps divulging key information. They all knew better than to oblige.
“Why are they waiting?” Benny asked, speaking for the hidden listeners.
“There must be a higher-up on the way,” Dale said. “Onion is just a glorified messenger boy. He's waiting for further orders.”
This was Response 101: insult the captors while letting no useful information slip out.
“Where do you know him from?” Helena asked Dale.
“Once upon a time we were the Ferocious Four,” Dale said. “Onion wanted to join us, but he was never quite good enough to be one of the boys. We held him in contempt, and he knew it. Now he figures to get even, which he could never do on his own. Such quislings can be valuable to their betters in the enemy camp.” He smiled. “Until their usefulness ends; then, of course, they are dispatched.”
Take that, Onion!
“Did you notice,” Burgundy said, “that Onion took off on Helena and Dale, but not Benny or me? I'm beneath notice, but Benny isn't.”
“We don't know each other,” Benny said.
“He's right,” Helena said. “Onion studiously never looked directly at you. He surely at least knows of you. He should have taken off on you too.”
“Almost as if he is afraid of you,” Dale said.
Benny realized it was true. Onion had never met his gaze. Sometimes, what wasn't said was more important than what was said. He shrugged. “Maybe he'll get to me in due course.”
“There's a minor mystery here,” Helena said.
Soon, they were hustled out to meet that higher-up. This turned out to be a Kudgel with an odd, blue tint to his complexion. He was a
fine figure of that type of man, wearing an elaborate, blue robe, shiny blue boots, and a headdress that resembled a blue crown. His face was almost handsome despite his species, as if transformed by the dominating spirit within. This was indeed a leader. Benny was impressed by his lordly demeanor despite hating what he stood for. “Do you know me?” he asked them.
None of them did. They looked blankly at him.
“Oh, I forgot,” he said. “I'm wearing a new body. Well, I will introduce myself. I am Ammarod Current. I and my superior are taking over where the Grand Cyclops left off. Perhaps I owe you a favor for taking him out.”
They remained silent, mainly from caution. Favor or not, he was not their friend.
“Feel free to speak,” Current said. “It will not affect your treatment. You are slated to be tortured regardless.”
Some reassurance!
“Very well,” Helena said. “I am no fan of the Grand Cyclops, though I knew him as a gentleman named Purp. I do respect his sister Magenta, who is a fine, if colorful, person. But he and his ilk would be no match for the four of us in a fair fight. For that matter, I doubt that you and your superior would be, either. That may be why you set your cunning trap for us: to make sure you would never have to face us yourselves.”
Current laughed. “Close enough, Amazon! Onion's right; you would make a fine mistress, properly declawed and defanged. But know this: Purp, as you call him, could easily have killed all of you had he wanted to. But while he earned the rank as leader, he was rash, vain, and inexperienced in all aspects of leadership, and nearly brought the conquest to disaster. He was really more focused on showing off his power and abilities than on killing enemies like you, which was one of his biggest flaws. My superior and I will not make the same mistake.” He paused, then added, “With one exception.”
“If you think to spare my life so that you can use me as a mistress,” Helena said evenly, “that mistake could cost you your life. Don't gamble on it.”
“Aptly spoken,” Current said. “Much as I admire your poise and defiance under pressure, and appreciate the splendor of your body, I have no intention of sparing you. You are absolutely correct.”
“Benny!” Helena said, putting elements together. “He's the one. That's why Onion is afraid of him.”
Onion, standing beside Current, winced.
“Why?” Benny demanded. “I have no connection to you.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, my naive associate. How is your mother?”
Benny was so surprised he spluttered. “My mother! What does she have to do with it?”
“Everything.”
“Well, she's never been part of my life. She deserted me as a baby, and I think she's long dead. Even if she lives, she has no interest in me, nor I in her.”
“You are mistaken.”
Despite his perilous circumstance, Benny was annoyed. “What the hell do you know about it?”
“One more question, then I will answer. What is her name?”
“Winona. That's just about the sum total of what I know about her. Winona Witch.”
“Correct. She is also a vampire.”
Benny's jaw dropped. Current seemed to know. But how could that be? “I—” But he was unable to finish.
“This is perhaps, why you were attracted to a vampire. There is that blood in you, though it never manifested openly.”
“You—you know about Virtue?”
“I call her Laurel. She was mine before she was yours.”
Preposterous! “But she was a virgin!”
Current smiled. “Hardly. But she seemed that way to you, and, of course, she did not advertise that aspect of her past. But this is a detail, rather than the main theme, which explains my interest in you.”
“Main theme?”
Current frowned. “Now listen, innocent man, because your welfare depends on it. Winona had three sons by three different men. The second was Aiken, who never amounted to much. The third, by a human man, was you.”
Benny was reluctantly fascinated, and he knew his companions were, too, despite their dire situation. “Who was the first?”
“Her first son was by a blue demon. That son was me.”
Was the man trying to tease him? Yet, there was a blue cast about him, apart from his clothing. “I have trouble believing that.”
“Winona lives today. She has directed me to recruit you. She wants you on our side.”
“Recruit me! Never!”
“We know you are opposed, but there are inducements,” Current said. “Agree, and your companions will be spared torture and death.”
“Don't sell out for us!” Dale said, and Helena nodded.
“And you will be reunited with Mother, who does love you, in her fashion. She is proud of your career to date.”
Benny was revolted, but could not be sure the man was lying. “What of Virtue?”
“Ah, you drive a hard bargain. You may have her, too, if you want her.”
“If I want her? I love her!”
“She is mine now. I rape her at will. She is a fallen woman. I may kill her rather than let her go, after I demean her some more. But if this is the price of you, and you still want her, I will pay it. I'm sure she'd be happier with you, though she does retain feeling for me.”
Benny had had enough. If he still wanted his abused beloved? Who might have some feeling for her abuser? This man was trying to play him, and he did not know if anything Onion said could be believed. So he called the bluff. “No! Go to hell!”
Current nodded, unperturbed. “I will tell Mother I tried, but you were unreasonable.” He turned to Onion. “Our paymaster will reward you handsomely for your service, and I add my appreciation. Now the prisoners are yours to do with whatever you wish, with one restriction: do not kill or seriously damage Benny Clout. You may make him hurt, but he must survive intact, in case he should change his mind at a later date. I do not want Mother unduly wroth with me.” Then, he got up and walked away.
“Good enough,” Onion said, well satisfied. He looked at Helena. “Such a tempting figure! But if Ammarod is cautious about toying with you, I think I'd better not risk it, even keeping you thoroughly trussed up. But there are other ways to have at an Amazon.”
The Kudgels staked the four firmly to the ground. Then, Onion wrapped a small hank of Helena's hair around a rod and pulled on it until it was ripped out of her head, along with some of her scalp, leaving a bleeding wound. She made no sound.
“This has been merely a token demonstration; be assured there is worse coming in due course.” He paused. “Or maybe you'd prefer to indulge my passion?” he inquired with a leer. “I may spare your lovely hair if you give your word not to fight back in any manner.”
Benny found it interesting that the elf would take her given word in a situation like this. He knew an Amazon would not violate her oath.
Now, she spoke. “Never!” And there was the proof of it: she refused to give her word, which she would not break even to escape him.
“We'll see. Once you die, you should be safe to plumb for a few hours before we give your corpse to the dragons. So, I will have you, my dear, alive or dead, your choice.”
He moved on to Dale. “I suspect you value your hands. We'll start with the fingers.”
Dale did not react as a Kudgel took hold of the littlest finger on his left hand and hammered a tack under the nail. It had to hurt horrendously, but it was as if Dale were asleep. “And there is your token, big man,” Onion said. “We'll do the others and the toes, in due course. Then we'll start in more seriously. I look forward to it.”
The elf moved on to Burgundy. “I hear this guy is into horny dreams. Let’s give him something to dream about.”
The Kudgels heaved the dwarf onto a raised framework, naked, facedown. Then, they hung a weight to his genital that slowly stretched it down toward the ground. It was obviously painful, but, like the others, Burgundy made no sound.
“When it touches the ground, we'll h
ack it off,” Onion said. “I mean the flesh, not the weight. So enjoy your hour of stretching; have a good sleep and dream.”
Then, he moved on to Benny. “I'll take that hat. That's Jack's hat, that he stole from me years ago.” He snatched it and put it on his own head. “Can't hurt you too badly,” he said, considering. “Especially since you might change your mind about joining the Kudgels. Fortunately, we do have time.” He brightened. “I know: flaying, a little at a time.”
He brought out a tiny knife and used it as a scalpel, slicing an oblong pattern into Benny's left forearm. Then, he put a small hook in one end and slowly pulled the skin away from the muscle beneath. It hurt horrendously, but Benny gritted his teeth and did not cry out. The strip came loose, leaving the pattern on the arm to well blood.
“Can't have you bleed too much; it's messy,” Onion said. “So we'll salt it.” He slapped a sponge soaked in salt water on the wound. That hurt worse, as it was supposed to; it was all Benny could do to keep himself from screaming. He was sustained mainly by rage: that this pipsqueak, imitation warrior had such power to hurt them just for the dubious fun of it. Oh, Onion did want some things, such as to safely have sex with Helena, or to get Benny to change sides. But mainly, he was just indulging his propensity for hurting others. He was the one who deserved to be tortured to death.
Onion glanced at the sky. “Dinner time. We'll let you be for now, and return when we are suitably fortified. You folk are not hungry, of course.” There was no reaction to his continued baiting. That did not seem to slow him. “Oh, I almost forget. We don't want you trying anything while we relax. So we'll give you a little drink to make you nod off for an hour or so.” He snapped his fingers, and the Kudgels brought out small cups filled with thick liquid. They held the captives’ mouths open and poured it down their throats, not caring if they choked. It was easier simply to swallow it. It did not taste bad, actually, but Benny deeply distrusted it. A pleasant numbness was spreading from his stomach; where would it stop?
The Kudgels walked away, going to their mess tent. Onion hung back a moment. “Pleasant dreams, folks,” he said, then followed, his stolen hat perched jauntily.
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