by Tracy Falbe
Her eyes narrowed and a growl emerged in her voice as she continued. “Then, the monster took me less often and I thought that my life would improve. But I learned that he was forcing his lust upon another maid. She was just a mere twelve years old. That’s when I decided to put an end to this. I took a cleaver from the kitchen and chopped across his throat as he slept. I’ll die knowing that I had one moment of justice in my life.”
Her vicious deed stunned the other men, even Thal, but in a different way. Untold generations of civilization had not dulled her killer instinct, and he wondered how well he could control her or how much he should.
Pistol shifted next to him, and Thal knew that was the dog’s cue for him to settle in for the night. He bade his volunteers to get what sleep that they could because they had far to hike the next day.
Everyone slumped and shifted into better positions for sleeping. Their combined body heat along with the banked fire gave them some comfort in the snowy night.
Thal secured his weapons under his cloak and fur although he sensed no ill will from the others. He managed to quiet his worries and fall into a deep sleep. Pistol curled up on his legs, and the warmth was welcome.
Being their first night free of chains in a long time, the volunteers collapsed into a slumber that granted them some peace. The night hours passed until dreams occupied Thal’s mind. His hands and feet twitched as he took action in the slumbering realm.
He dreamed he was inside. He did not recognize the darkly paneled room, but the roaring fire in the field stone fireplace warmed his cheeks. Sensing the presence of another, he turned from the fire.
He saw a woman draped in a cloak of black fur. Her long black hair blended with the fluffy collar at her milky throat. She was Lenki except that her hair was not cut off. Dreamy desire overtook him. He seemed to glide toward her. She looked up at him. He caressed her cheek. His excitement flared at the contact. When her lips parted, he leaned in without hesitation to kiss her. She received the advance tentatively. The wetness of her mouth tasted both familiar and foreign. Their mixing flavors prodded their passion. His lust felt secure in the dream world, and he put his arms around her. She pressed against him and returned his kiss this time with true hunger. His eager hands slipped inside the fur cloak and found bare flesh.
He came awake with a gasp. The hot desire from his dream floundered in the dark cold reality of the crude shelter. His arms felt desperately empty like the ground had disappeared beneath his feet.
Shame stymied his arousal. He thought of Altea. His unbidden betrayal of his wife within the dream disturbed him. He wanted Altea with him. He wanted to drown his unexpected desire for another in the warm bath of her goodness.
Shocked by the dream, he stayed still for a long time. He picked out the breathing sounds of each person to confirm their presence. Lenki was still there. Her scent cut through the stew of male body odors like a gold coin tossed on chicken scraps.
Thal shuddered lightly, trying to drive away his desire. He did not understand why he was feeling this way. His true love for his wife tried to reject it like brave fighters defending a castle wall, but Thal knew that something must have driven him to have such a dream.
He wondered if such lustful thoughts were normal to men. Perhaps such things were just beginning to manifest inside him. He was new to his humanity after all, and he recalled the ongoing appetite for women exhibited by his friends Regis and Raphael.
But except for a general curiosity and appreciation for women, Thal had never felt intense attraction until meeting Altea.
I will not act on this dream, he decided. His resolution comforted him and buffered him from reflecting on the true source of his desire.
Chapter 9. Jealousy
Mileko clung to the trance that allowed him to maintain his body temperature. He had been stripped to his underdrawers, chained, and plunged into a pool of icy water in a dungeon cell. The cold water that swallowed him up to his neck pulled insistently on his vitality.
He had prepared for such challenges, and he possessed the discipline to fight a pitched battle with this elemental force that smothered his inner fire.
Time was impossible to measure as he teetered on the brink of freezing. He guessed that Tekax would leave him like this just long enough to make him near delirious before interrogation. Such a tactic would work well on a normal man. Mileko expected to do better.
Even so, he dreaded the interrogation. Terrible torments that would make this icy death seem appealing might await him. This fear finally cracked his concentration, and the cold pierced his body like the claws of lions. He must attempt his escape while still able.
As his trance faltered, shivering overtook his body. The shaking interfered with his effort to force his tool out of his throat, but he prevailed. Practice had given him the gift of succeeding when it mattered most. The slender piece of metal came up just as the bolt snapped back on the door. Hastily, he shifted it into his cheek along his lower jaw.
Lantern light blinded him when the door opened. He gave himself over to the frigid water and presented a pathetic and pliable prisoner.
Two men lifted him by the arms from the water. He dropped to the slimy floor in a quivering mass while one man unlocked the chain from the wall. Mileko feigned an inability to walk, and they dragged him from the watery darkness.
His bare feet flopped against the steps as they took him up a level. They strapped him to a table in a large room. Because his eyes were adjusting to the light, he recognized that he was in the place where he had been stripped.
Squinting hopefully along the walls, he spotted a counter and racks. His gear was neatly piled there. Mileko shifted the tool inside his cheek, anxious for a chance to work on his chains.
The tap of the dangerous cane on damp stone announced the coming of Tekax. The soft tread of another man accompanied him.
Janfelter.
Mileko squirmed with revulsion. The thing should not be. Strength could be enhanced. Endurance prolonged. Healing emboldened, but mortal wounds could not be undone. Only the most corrupt magic that had no respect for the workings of life could have made him.
A guard held a lantern up and ushered Tekax and his unholy assassin inside. Bravely, Mileko faced the light. The guard grabbed a chain that dangled from the ceiling and attached the lantern to it.
Janfelter brought a chair up for his lord, and Tekax settled in next to Mileko’s table.
“Weren’t you a clever spy,” Tekax complimented.
Mileko licked his blue lips and coughed lightly. “If you attack Sarputeen, you should take greater care in receiving guests hence forth,” he said.
Offense pinched the sorcerer’s face. “Does he think he’ll take me down with some mere assassin?” he said scornfully.
“I’m the spy, not the assassin,” Mileko said.
“You’re a killer certain as I am,” Janfelter interjected. “This one killed Rotfeng.”
Something similar to sorrow or at least regret afflicted Tekax. The loss of his loyal werewolf was a blow, and a chance to replace him might never come. Despite his fondness for the creature, he reminded himself that he had his fext now, and Janfelter had powers superior to a werewolf.
“For Rotfeng’s sake, I should put you to a special death,” Tekax said.
“Put the dogs on him, my Lord,” Janfelter suggested.
Tekax nodded as if a favored son had spoken well. “I think you’re right, but…Mayhaps this magician who serves a wolf might think better of his ways and save his life. Why do you serve such a useless one as Sarputeen?” Tekax asked.
Mileko decided that answering questions was better than forcing his captor to choose actions beyond conversation. “He had much to teach me. He knows much of expanding the mind, of potion making. I’m told you know well of his powers. Why do you call him useless?”
Tekax leaned back in his chair and put both hands on his cane handle. He made no effort to hide how the subject of Sarputeen irked him, and he was ready
with his criticisms.
“He strives for nothing. He lives only in a timeless state, letting each day be the same as the one before it and the one after. His lack of ambition insults the power that he supposedly commands,” Tekax said. “Tell me, Mileko, for I now know your real name, does Sarputeen still possess his magic? Or does he hide in his castle because he can no longer do anything?”
“I see no sign that his power wanes. Since you have provoked him, you’ll feel his wrath in due time,” Mileko said.
Tekax disliked the pride that he heard in the voice of his rival’s servant.
“So, he plans to come for me, presumably after you report back,” Tekax said.
“You judge the situation well,” Mileko said.
“I want you to know that I am a fair man. I would not throw away your talents because you have the misfortune of serving the wrong master. An empire does not grow without taking in those it conquers. I am the future. Sarputeen is only the lord of things that will be crushed under the wheels of progress.”
“What do you have to offer me?” Mileko said.
The old sorcerer scrutinized his prisoner, hating how he found him difficult to judge. Was he hearing interest or a well-delivered ruse?
“If you please me, I’ll let you live,” Tekax said.
Dislike flickered on Janfelter’s face. He was eager to see Rotfeng properly avenged.
Tekax continued, “Janfelter tells me you know Thal well. That you traveled with him.”
“Yes.”
“He changes at will, correct?”
“Yes. He was much more powerful than your nasty cur, Rotfeng,” Mileko said.
“And Sarputeen must be overjoyed to have his son back with him,” Tekax said and watched Mileko very closely. He detected a genuine hint of resentment, and the insight thrilled him. When Mileko showed no sign of answering, Tekax pressed the issue. “Suddenly, his son is here, and he has no need for you anymore. He sent you on this foolish mission to spy on me to get rid of you.”
Mileko did not believe it, but he thought that he should play along.
“He places much value on Thal,” he admitted diplomatically.
Janfelter said, “When I was walking back here, I asked many questions while still near Zilina. They say that you were his protege. What are you now?”
Tekax raised his eyebrows, very interested in the response. Mileko hated how Janfelter’s question provoked him. Since Thal had arisen from the forest, Sarputeen had only thought of him. He had dispatched Mileko swiftly to guide him to Vlkbohveza, and Mileko had endured many difficulties in the company of his master’s unruly son.
And Sarputeen had barely thanked him for completing the task that would have ruined others of lesser skill. Indeed, Sarputeen had barely spoken to him since Thal had arrived at his castle. To be fair, the need to dispatch a spy had been urgent, and Mileko was surely the best agent for that purpose. Despite that reason, Mileko was forced to face the bald fact of his jealousy. Would Sarputeen have time for him again? Would he place all of his attention on his son? Uncomfortably, Mileko suspected he knew the answer.
Jealousy, resentment, insecurity, none of these things mattered compared to the what Tekax might offer him. Mileko’s needs were simple, and, no matter his feelings about anything else, he respected Sarputeen’s judgment, and his master had warned him long ago that Tekax brought only wrong into the world. Janfelter proved that.
Wisdom demanded, however, that Mileko appear tempted.
“I am what I have always been. A man with talents who does as he pleases,” Mileko finally answered.
“Would it please you to do the work of men and not animals?” Tekax asked.
“So, you would give me my life in exchange for my service?” Mileko asked.
“I may forestall your execution until you prove yourself,” Tekax said.
Deep foreboding jiggled Mileko’s stomach. He realized that Tekax gave no one life. Worse yet, in the presence of such a notorious sorcerer, he suspected that agreeing to anything with Tekax might involve the application of dark magic. Sarputeen had never bound him with such a thing.
Tekax reached out with his bony fingers. His nails were unpleasantly long, thick, and yellow. He traced a nail down the center of Mileko’s chest as if pondering how to approach a surgery.
“How many men serve Sarputeen?” he asked.
“Two if you include me. And Thal of course. Perhaps a dozen men from his village might fight for him,” Mileko answered.
Janfelter chuckled, and Tekax looked a little insulted. “And he dares to think he can act against me?”
“You tried to kill his son. Do you expect a different reaction?” Mileko said.
Contempt deepened the wrinkles on Tekax’s narrow face when he frowned. “His beast powers don’t frighten me,” he said.
“Evidently not,” Mileko said. Nervously, he watched Tekax drag a finger around his navel. Then, the sorcerer lifted himself up a bit with his cane and leaned over Mileko’s head. He laid a hand on his forehead, feigning tenderness.
Softly, he said, “I know it’s not easy to give up your loyalty to him. He possesses a glamour that makes others love him. This I know. But I could make you forget all of that. I could lead you to many great glories.”
The hand was hot on his head, almost burning. The totality of his vulnerability barreled into his consciousness, crushing him with the dire truth of his situation. He clung to his previous life like a tattered flag about to tear loose in a gale.
“It’s time to move on. I can teach you so much more than Sarputeen,” Tekax whispered…or did Mileko hear the words in his head?
He shut his eyes and rallied his discipline. He must not let this snake slither into his soul.
“I…I don’t know…” Mileko said.
“When you go back to him, you’ll see that I’m right,” Tekax said.
“I can go?” Mileko said hopefully.
“You’ll go and do a special thing for me. Your hands will put an end to these beasts who think they’re better than you,” Tekax said.
Mileko cringed beneath the violating touch of the corrupt sorcerer. He was perceptive to the ways of magic users, and he could feel the tendrils of his captor’s mighty mind prying at his wits. Mileko struggled to bury his true feelings and project only fear and confusion.
“I’ll crack you,” Tekax murmured.
“Don’t waste your time on him, Master,” Janfelter presumed to say. “Let me take his head back to his beloved dogs.”
“He does not love them,” Tekax said. “He’ll learn new ways. Much better to send his hands back to Sarputeen than his head. Hands that will do my bidding. Hands that I can reward.”
The confidence in the old man’s voice warned Mileko that he plotted some spell that would be impossible to resist. Mileko hated the thought that he might become this monster’s tool, but he was soothed by the knowledge that Sarputeen would surely detect his corruption. The hearts of men were transparent to a werelord.
Mercifully, Tekax took his nasty hand away. He creaked to his feet, and Janfelter moved the chair out of his master’s way. The sorcerer took a moment to scrutinize Mileko again. He had misgivings but refused to ignore the opportunity that his prisoner presented. He needed time to ponder how to twist this one to his purposes. He preferred to exert his influence upon men when they were younger, but, if he crafted a precise spell, the result could create a stunning victory. He liked the idea of forcing Sarputeen’s protege to betray him.
“Put him back in the water,” Tekax said and started away, his cane tapping thoughtfully alongside each step.
Janfelter relished his moment to lord over the prisoner. He gripped Mileko’s throat and squeezed. The fext wanted to promise horrible death, but he dared not interfere with his master’s plans.
“You’re lucky he’s giving you this chance,” Janfelter said.
Mileko provided no reaction. He placed his hopes on the possibility that he might be left alone.
&n
bsp; Janfelter ordered a man to undo the straps, and then he shoved Mileko onto the floor. He picked up another pair of manacles connected by a chain from the counter. Mileko tried to roll away and fend off the attack with the chain dangling from his wrists, but Janfelter kicked him in the ribs and beat him with his chains across the chest. He clenched his torso muscles, hoping to limit the damage. The chains crashed across his arms and clipped his face. He crawled away, but Janfelter dragged him back. He gave him a proper thrashing until Mileko was curled into a ball.
Grinning with delight, Janfelter said, “That’s going to take a long time to heal.”
Mileko trembled in the grip of trauma as Janfelter departed. He yielded to the rough hands of the guards as they hauled him back to his awful pool. The plunge into cold water soothed somewhat the hot pain of the fresh blows on his body.
The darkness consumed him again once the men left with their lantern. Slowly, he raised a hand to his mouth. He leaned over the stone ledge to avoid the catastrophic probability of dropping his tool in the water. The bit of metal came out with a glob of blood into his hands.
Although his teeth were chattering, a hot and unbreakable focus heated his mind as he unfolded the tool. A little hinge connected a pick and a serrated file. Feeling his way in the dark, he found a chain link and started sawing. The super hard metal of the saw scraped at the iron. Despite its coating of rust, the metal was still thick, but desperate need created an unquenchable patience. Every small movement removed a shaving of metal, and he would defeat the link.
He made it through the first half of the link. Encouraged, he breathed on his numb fingers and started in on the other side of the link. Hope made him quicker, and the link came apart.
He stuck the tool in his mouth and acted quickly to remove the chain from the loop that held his manacles to the pit. The chain slipped free of a second loop on one manacle but remain attached to the manacle on his right wrist. He would deal with that when he could.
He pulled himself out of the water and rolled across the floor. The dank air sank teeth into his dripping body. The intensity of his shivering almost made it impossible to stand up, but he eventually struggled to his feet as wobbly as a newborn calf. He took off his underdrawers, wrung the water from them, and put them back on.
