Izaryle's Will

by Levi Samuel

  “You have but to name it.” The man’s face was concealed by shadow but his voice sounded familiar.

  “Do all within your power to gather the human lands. Make them aware of the threat we face. My men will keep an eye on the dreualfar movement. When time comes, the myrkalfar will stand with you in battle.”

  The two spoke as equals in the privacy of the grove like chamber.

  The scene faded, returning to the scouts at the wall. One by one, they crawled through a hole in the wall, disappearing into shadow. It was as if they were trapped in a dark room, unable to see the slightest detail. Their fear radiated through the spell, drifting into the scrying chamber.

  Kane caught the scent of sulfur and honey, a yellow mist disappearing into his nostrils. He watched the shadow bubble from the book, spreading into the room.

  “Army of dreu. Searching for something.” The words didn't sound like those of his men. He could feel their pain, their inability to breathe. There was no way they could have said the words. It was more like their emotion, their fear, their combined thoughts forming the message.

  The dark presence sent a chill down his spine.

  Without warning the book exploded, sending small pieces of burning paper in all directions. The magical flames hovering over their sconces brightened, illuminating the room enough to burn away the remaining shadow.

  The two stood over the ruined book watching the last bits burn to ash.

  “That was strange.” Relavin stated with a perfectly calm demeanor, refusing to show the least bit of concern.

  “You think?”

  “It seems my spell was cut. We should have seen everything that happened to them, including their deaths, if that were the case. It shouldn't have ended like that.”

  “I would have guessed your book shouldn't have exploded like that either.” Kane added.

  “Yes— Well, generally that doesn't happen.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” The armored man asked, more concerned than before.

  “Not that I'm aware of. What’s happened here is beyond my knowledge. I must meet with the Magnis. If anyone knows anything, it would be him. Continue your duties, I'll send for you when I’ve something new to share.”

  Kane nodded and turned toward the archway as he had once before. The blue lights swirled and the room faded.

  Cheers of excitement echoed through the trees surrounding Dreuslayer Keep. The courtyard was full of servants, visitors, and trainees standing around the outer ward, watching the sport before them.

  Malakai sliced in with his battle rapier, spinning around to block with the short sword in his other hand. The blows were solid and forceful, yet no harm was intended in the strikes.

  Krenin twisted the newly forged great sword, deflecting the slice. Rolling his wrist, the large blade danced around for a secondary attack. The ferocity of his strike knocked the sword from his friend's hand, overpowering him and nearly catching Malakai in the side.

  The swashbuckler jumped, avoiding the potentially deadly blow. His offhand weapon skated to the other side of the arena. Adjusting his style, he positioned his feet and reengaged the half-orc. Holding his reinforced blade in front of him, he paused, letting Krenin advance again.

  Krenin adjusted, knowing the single blade would be much faster than the dual-blade style. He rushed in bringing all his might to the powerful strike. Continuing forward, his shoulder collided knocking the swashbuckler from his feet.

  Malakai forced the air from his lungs, feeling his feet leave the ground. Sucking through his nose, he controlled the intake, keeping himself from taking too much and panicking with its loss. He flexed his legs, letting them absorb the impact. Landing on his feet, he bent and sprang toward the larger combatant.

  Krenin brought the newly forged sword in front of him, locking it against the smaller blade. It flexed under the pressure, groaning in protest. Had it not been reinforced for the purpose of such blows, it surely would have snapped. He looked into Malakai's eyes, seeing the exhilaration in his expression. It made him enjoy their exercise that much more. “You gonna lose!” He stated defiantly, fueling the fire.

  “Not today, I'm not!” Malakai hooked the half-orc's leg, shoving against him, using the locked weapons to balance himself.

  Krenin stumbled backward, feeling the obstacle behind his leg. Ripping his blade free, he twisted and disengaged.

  “Cease battle!” The voice echoed over the chatter of the audience, reaching both the combatants.

  They lowered their weapons, glancing toward the bailey. Kane hurried down the steps toward them.

  The armored warrior stepped into the courtyard, rushing past the spectators. He stepped into the arena, stopping between the two warriors. “We're needed. An urgent meeting has been requested between Remle, Aldur, and the other lords.”

  “We're all needed for that? Don't you and Ravion usually handle that kind of stuff?”

  Kane spoke in a hushed tone as to not rile the listeners. “Typically, yes. But this is different. This time, we prepare for war!”

  Chapter XVI

  Pain and Gain

  Several candles illuminated the dank cavern room, flickering off the roughly chiseled walls. The air was cool and smelled of earth.

  Nezial reached across the table, securing a bucket of water. Moss had grown to the wooden slats and a thin layer of film floated atop the stagnant liquid. “I hate when they pass out, it takes all the fun out of their punishment.” He spoke aloud to no one in particular. Overturning the bucket, he poured the slimy contents onto his guest's head. “I hope you didn't expect me to kill you so soon. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

  Highlord Kashus' eyes shot open on response to the cold splash. His body was drenched and shivering. Blinded by the multiple lights, he blinked several times, letting them adjust. He attempted to sit up, finding himself unable to rise. His vision cleared, revealing a large mirror mounted to the ceiling overhead. He laid upon a stone slab, secured at each joint by a thick leather strap. His eyes darted between the mirror and what little he could see in his peripherals. Fear rose in his gut at the sight of the dreualfar commander, that cruel smile lingering upon his face. Attempting to fight his restraints, memories of days past rushed to him. He recalled the mutilation of his body, rendering him non-recognizable. His torturer thus far, had only used his vile magics to punish him, pulling at his insides, burning him beneath the flesh, twisting his soul until he felt pleasure. But each morning he awoke renewed, forced to live it again. Never in his life had he experienced anything like it, and it was only going to get worse. Swallowing the memories, he turned his head as far as the straps would allow, acknowledging the commander. “Let's get this over with.” His voice was weak, but defiant.

  Nezial pulled against the straps. “As soon as I make sure you're secure. It'd be a shame if you flinched and forced me to cut too deep. That'd be no fun at all.” His wicked smile burned into the man's soul.

  Kashus straightened his head, staring straight into the reflection, awaiting the pain that was sure to follow. Why they'd gone through the trouble of installing the speculum was an unknown mystery. Best he could figure, its sole purpose was to display the horrors to befall to him.

  Nezial leaned over the slab, obstructing the man's view. Grabbing hold of the small, wooden table overloaded with various instruments and devices, he drug it closer, pressing his weight into the human's midsection.

  The unexpected weight crushed Kashus, making it difficult to breathe. He tensed his stomach muscles, hoping it would offer some resistance.

  The dreualfar wiggled the table a bit further, glancing up to ensure it was visible in the mirror. “Can you see that alright? I'd hate for you to miss the show.”

  “Could you move it a few inches to the right? I can only see half of the saw.” Kashus weakly chuckled his rebellion, feeling the previous day’s ache.

  “Absolutely.” Nezial dug his elbows into the man, shifting the table slightly. “It that better?�
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  Kashus groaned in pain, closing his eyes to block it out as best he could.

  Smiling at his prisoner’s defeat Nezial stood, grabbing an iron instrument. It resembled a pair of shears with narrow flat metal pads on each end. He opened and closed them, revealing the small spikes inside the pads. “Hold still. This may hurt a bit.” Securing the highlord's arm, Nezial pressed his hand against the stone, forcing it flat. Carefully, he inserted the sharp tip under the edge of his fingernail and gently separated the soft skin from the nail. The gray metal glided easily, seating near the root. Nezial squeezed the handles, locking the pads around the nail.

  Kashus couldn't see much of what was happening, but he could feel the cold metal inside his finger. It took every ounce of will to keep from crying out in pain and anger.

  The dreualfar commander glanced at his prisoner's face, smiling his wicked smile. “Are you ready?” Refusing to wait for a response, he rolled the tool backward toward the secured wrist. The nail flexed briefly and then split away, ripping several strands of white nerve endings with it. He pulled the detached nail away, hearing the last bits of skin pop in defeat.

  Kashus lost his battle, screaming the pain away. It was nearly unbearable, as if the bone was being torn out.

  The first nail free, Nezial held it over a glass jar resting on the table. Opening the bills, the small piece came free and landed in the bottom. Wasting no time, he secured another nail and promptly removed it.

  Kashus watched curled bits of him ping across the bottom of the jar. The salty tears burned his eyes, adding to his pain. His fingers and toes bled from the torn roots, throbbing in-time to his racing heartbeat.

  Nezial dropped the last toenail into the jar, directing his attention to his captive. “See, that wasn't so bad.” He patted the man atop his head, glancing at his table. “What to do now? Oh, I know.” He grabbed a small razor with a leather wrapped handle. The leather was blood stained and blade slightly rusted, but it remained extremely sharp. Stabilizing the man’s wrist, Nezial positioned the tip.

  “Let me guess. This is going to hurt?” Kashus cried through the words, trying to find his resolve.

  “Extremely. But worry not. You won't die.” Watching the man's eyes, Nezial pressed the sharpened instrument into the side of his finger, feeling it hit the bone beneath. Carefully, he drug it down to the tip. The skin split easily, revealing meat and bone the length of the appendage. Repeating the process on the other side, he wrapped around, joining the two.

  Kashus cried out, unable to escape the scalpel. He closed his eyes, hoping he could retreat into his mind.

  Nezial laid the blade on the table and lifted the bills he'd used before. Clicking them together, he cast a disappointed glare at the highlord. “Open your eyes! I didn't go through the trouble of lighting this room and giving you a mirror if I didn't want you to watch.”

  Kashus grimaced, but slowly looked upon his captor. Finding his rapidly fading spark of rebellion, he weakly spoke. “My apologies. Boredom was luring me into slumber.” It hurt, cracking a smile, but it was worth it. If he could anger the dreualfar, perhaps he could die quickly.

  “Oh? I'll take care of that.” He jabbed needle like jaws into the tip of the wound, closing it on the meat and flesh. Pulling slowly, careful to prevent tearing the flesh, while evoking the most pain possible, Nezial peeled the finger like a banana. Once he'd finished with each finger, he moved onto the hands, and finally the arms, using the loose meat and skin to pull the rest.

  Kashus’ arms and legs were little more than bloody sinew and torn muscle, displayed in the mirror of torture. He was horrified by his visage, gripped in agony, but unable to look away.

  Nezial laid the pliers aside and grabbed a pair of long nosed tongs and a wooden plank, notched on the ends. Laying them on the stone slab, he observed the tormented soul before him, content that he hadn't looked away. “Now, let me ask you again. Where is it?”

  Kashus coughed, feeling his body jolt from the instinctive action. Pain shot through him, crippling him further. “I'll never tell.”

  Nezial sighed heavily. It wasn't nearly as fun anymore. “I have things to do. Yet you continue to defy me. Very well. Your tune will change soon enough. Mark my words.” He grabbed the blood-soaked scalpel and cut a small slit in the highlord's lower abdomen. Spreading the hole, he reached in with the tongs and secured a small section of intestine. The rubbery hose was slick, coated in a clear, thin fluid. He slid the plank under the squishy cord, setting it in the deep notches. “Are you sure you won't tell me?”

  Kashus glared at the mirror, refusing to answer the question.

  “As you wish.” Nezial twisted the plank, coiling the intestine around it, pulling the bowels out further with each wrap.

  Screams echoed through the underground cavern, calling all dreualfar within earshot to investigate the source of the disturbance.

  Nezial didn’t mind. It showed his people what he was capable of, kept them inline and ready to obey his commands.

  Overflowing with torment and tears, Kashus closed his eyes hoping to block out the pain.

  Nezial felt his anger rise, noticing his toy's retreat. He laid the plank across the open wound, letting the coiled hose stick together with the lack of pressure. “I told you to watch the show!” Snatching up the razor and flat tipped bills, he encircled the alter, shaking his head. Coming to a stop above the highlord's head, Nezial glared his disapproval. “You're being disrespectful!” Losing all composure, he slammed his fist down beside Kashus’ head, knocking one of the ceramic jars to the floor.

  It shattered, sending bloody chunks of skin, tendon, and glass in all directions.

  He straightened himself, regaining his calm. “Although, truth be told, I’d hoped you'd look away.” His vile smile returning, Nezial leaned over the subdued man and slipped the flat pad under his eyelid. Squeezing the handles, he pulled, stretching the thin layer of skin away from the eye. Dragging the razor over the stretched lid, it came free. Quickly moving to the other, he smiled his satisfaction.

  Kashus tried to turn his head, a feeble attempt to protect his face, but the straps prevented it. He screamed, feeling the protective layer leave his eyes vulnerable to the cold air and dust of the underground. He could already feel them drying out from lack of moisture, the steaming blood doing little to sooth his discomfort.

  Nezial laid the tools to rest where they had been sitting and tossed the two pieces of severed skin on the table with them. “Now that I have your attention, may we proceed?”

  His eyes burned from the pool of blood and tears. He could no longer escape to the shadows of his mind. He’d lost everything. Everything, but his one secret. No, I'll not tell him! “Go to hell!”

  Nezial’s lips tightened, wrapped into his familiar smile. “You're already there.” He returned to his position at the man's side and finished coiling his intestines on the slotted plank. They slid through the small slit with ease, leaving a trail of film to run down the wound. Nezial wrapped several times, overlapping the rubbery hose. He didn't want to get too zealous. That could result in a tear or rupture and that would rob him of his fun. No, this was going to last as long as he could make it.

  The pungent odor of innards began to fill the room. There were no flies or other insects so deep in the underground to risk infection, but the exposure to the dank air was quickly drying him out, turning the pinkish cord to a yellow-brown.

  “You should have answered me. This next part is going to be rather painful.” Nezial lifted a medium sized hammer. The head was polished and perfectly flat. Not so much as a mar stained the hardened metal. Heaving a wide piece of iron, equally flat, with a forged handle on the back side, he placed the dolly on the bottom side of Kashus’ foot. Ensuring the skinless, mutilated toes were pressed firmly against the cold steel, he lifted the hammer and brought it down in a single, fluid motion.

  A sticky red and white paste shot from between the two pieces of hardened iron, ringing out from the impact.<
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  The highlord screamed, feeling the already sensitive appendage explode. He glanced down at the ruptured nub. Shredded strands of meat were all that remained. Kashus sucked air between his clinched teeth, watching the dreualfar reset the dolly against his foot.

  One by one, Nezial crushed his toes, turning them into a soupy paste. He laid the bloody tools on the table and bent over, grabbing the sides of a large sack on the bottom rack of his cart. With a groan, he lifted the burlap, setting it to rest on the edge of the stone slab. Opening the top, he reached in and scooped a large amount of the loose grain into his hand. “I don't want your wounds to get infected. This will help. Though I fear you'll experience some minor discomfort.” Eyes full of pleasure, he slowly poured the large crystals of salt over the restrained captive's limbs. It began to melt, sticking to the bloody appendages. Grabbing another scoop, he gently rubbed it into the missing toes and flayed skin. Working his way up, Nezial massaged the damaged areas, allowing the salt to burn its way into his guest. Reaching his face, he paid special attention to his lidless eyes, careful to keep the sticky mixture out of his orbs. It wouldn't serve to have the man blinded so soon.

  Kashus screamed, feeling the salt burn into his mutilated form. It absorbed much of the blood, allowing it to somewhat dissolve and travel deeper into his wounds, drying him much quicker than before. Even the few grains spilled on his stomach burned. If only there were some way to end it all. He bucked as hard as he could, feeling the damaged sections of his body tear open with the movement. It was painful, but worth it. He watched the coil of his innards fall from his midsection and hit the slab. If he could knock it off, perhaps the weight would damage them and he could die. Bucking again, his hopes dissolved like the salt in his wounds.

  The blackened arm shot out, catching the roll, carefully returning it to its proper place. “Now be careful, Kashus. Such an accident could rob me of my fun. And we can't have that.” Nezial snapped his fingers, letting his magic do its job.