by J. A. Comley
Now he lay with his right arm cradled in his lap, his hand on backwards, bones sticking out of his flesh just below his elbow. And yet, Father Joe knew he had got lucky. Their evil torturer had left early last night. His other hand reached past the toilet bucket. The necklace he had found in the crater was hidden there, in the nook between the bucket and where the cages were welded to the floor.
He was careful not to touch the flower pendant. It had burned like white-hot iron the only time his fingers had brushed it.
He toyed with it over and over again, always careful to hide it at the first sign of the Kyron.
Pierre had been tortured only a handful of times and since the last, he had been uncharacteristically silent. Antonio had tried to find out what had happened, but Pierre had just stared at him blankly. A few days ago, some sort of life had sparked in his eyes again but he still wouldn't utter a sensible word to anyone.
The shrieking sound of metal grating against stone made Father Joe jump and Raoul's eyes snap open and he cursed, startling the others awake.
“They're early today,” Raoul muttered, looking towards the only door as it was pushed open.
The nail-curling sound reverberated off the walls and ceiling until in was almost painful. The twins gasped and covered their ears, unable to take their haunted eyes off the drodemion horde filing into the cavern.
Father Joe sent out a silent prayer as he looked over the twins. They had dark shadows under their eyes and bruises along their arms. They had only been tortured once. Their own treatment of Starla seemed to earn them some kind of approval from Kyron. Yet they were still threatened and smacked around a little if Kyron thought they were being disrespectful or if he was just bored. And they were always made to watch his torture of the others.
Elise was hunched protectively over the still unconscious Antonio, her eyes glued on the door as it remained open. She didn't appear to even be breathing, as if an early warning of Kyron's appearance might somehow help them. Besides, he didn't normally bother to use the door.
Raoul had followed the progress of the final four drodemions, each wearing a black sash around their skeletal waists. He glanced meaningfully at Father Joe, something more than the natural fear of impending pain in his eyes. He prodded Pierre in the ribs and pointed. They had agreed to try and include Pierre as often as possible in the hopes of bringing sense back to him.
All three men turned to look at the group. They had something covered in a midnight-blue cloth slung between them. It looked horribly like a shrouded body. Father Joe felt his empty stomach lurch as he saw the blood soaking the fabric.
Raoul felt his heart clench, his thoughts immediately going to Starla. All the red-haired man's questions were about Starla, all his tortures because of his desire to use her or kill her. Feeling cold fear flood his veins, Raoul watched the bundle apprehensively as it was laid on the edge of the fire pit, where another drodemion was already hauling back the huge granite slabs that covered most of it at night.
As two of the body bearers retreated, a hand fell lifelessly from in between the folds of bloodied cloth. Raoul felt dizzy with relief as he looked at the dripping hand. It was a man's hand. This body was not Starla's. Then he shut his eyes guiltily and said a quick prayer for the man whose life was now over.
One of the remaining bearers laid a hand on the shroud, then waved it down to the man's feet and back up to his head. The shroud vanished as if it never was. The final drodemion had never released his hold of the man's shoulder.
The man looked young. He was naked from the waist up and terrible red scars marked his torso and face. Raoul was certain that the man was dead. His long, raven hair had been swept aside from his neck to reveal a deep gash, which, although it still pumped blood, was too deep to be survivable. It looked as if someone had stopped mid-way through executing him.
Pierre moved closer to the bars, as if wanting a better look at the macabre scene.
Father Joe heaved again, and Elise had buried her head in her husband's chest, her sobs echoing dimly around the cavern. The twins appeared to have fainted, still grasping onto each other.
Raoul turned his head away from the poor soul as footsteps approached through the still open doorway. He didn't recognise either of them. One was a strange, scaly creature with a high plume of red and gold feathers protruding from its head. This one carried a vial of bright blue liquid and was being chivvied forward urgently by the man who followed.
The man looked human, which was a relief. He had light brown hair that looked slightly dishevelled and grey eyes that were tight with fear. Though his clothes were strange, they were clearly of fine quality.
“Hurry,” the man urged, his rough voice strained.
A red flash of light filled the chamber momentarily.
Several things happened simultaneously as Kyron arrived. Elise's sobs cut off in a strangled cry of fear, Raoul moved to Father Joe's side, the richly dressed man cringed and fell to his knees and the drodemions all fell forwards, prostrating themselves.
The only conscious creatures who didn't react were Pierre, whose eyes were still on the growing pool of blood, the drodemion grasping the body's shoulder and the scaly thing. It continued to the dead man's side. Without even a glance at the newcomer, it poured half the contents of the bottle into the man's gaping wound. Then, with sure movements, added some of the man's blood to the rest of the mixture, twirling the vial slowly until the mixture had turned a dark yellow. This, he forced down the man's throat.
A low whimper brought Raoul's attention back to the rich man. He was now lying on the floor, face down in front of Kyron. Rips appeared across his back as if an invisible lash was tearing through his clothes and flesh.
Kyron spun his staff to the left and the man was hauled into the air, a scream of pain escaping his gritted teeth. Kyron's eyes flashed dangerously, his pointed teeth bared.
“If he dies—” Kyron left the threat hanging and threw the man to the ground.
“But Master, he's our enemy. You said he'd die … I … he won't die,” blundered the other man, getting to his feet, cringing in pain and following his master past Raoul's cage towards the body.
“He's already dead,” muttered Raoul as the man passed.
Kyron ignored Raoul and turned to face the man, towering over him easily. “You foolish mortal! He needs to be questioned!” The Baron jumped a step back as flames darted from the staff. “And his power brought under my control.”
“Forgive me, Master,” he whispered, on his knees again, blood soaking through his ruined clothes.
Kyron sneered, “You remain a useful object, but if your use ever fails, your pain shall last centuries.”
Kyron swept back towards the dead man. The Baron followed meekly behind him.
Looking past them at the dead man, Raoul suddenly grabbed the priest.
They both stared as all the blood from the shroud and the pools of it on the ground gathered together, swirling, then flew back through the wound. The wound itself was healing rapidly, the skin growing, knitting itself back together. Within minutes, it looked like a wound many days old. Father Joe's eyes felt ready to pop out of his head.
Certainly, he had witnessed, and felt, how Kyron seemed to use the black-sashed drodemion to heal their broken bones so that they could be re-broken. He had felt his gashes from whippings heal, but actually watching a wound this terrible being healed was incredible.
“And so, in the depths of hell, the dead shall reawaken,” Pierre said, his voice sounding hoarse from disuse. Raoul just stared, unable to think, let alone speak.
Silently, the drodemion released the wounded man's shoulder and stood.
At no command Raoul could see, the drodemion horde all rose and left the chamber. Kyron gave his staff a lazy wave as they left and the man on the floor was instantly coiled in chains from shoulders to feet. Where their metal touched the man's skin, they began to glow a faint gold.
The Baron heaved a relieved sigh.
�
��Come!” Kyron barked, sweeping out of the room.
The Baron threw one last, spiteful glance at Larkel, then hurried after his master. The door grated shut behind them.
***
The food lady came in at around noon, as usual. The horrible sound of the door woke the others again. Raoul had been glad that they had managed to sleep without the usual noise of industry. Antonio had come around a few hours ago and Elise had quickly filled him in after checking that his fever had broken.
Raoul shifted his weight and hissed. His arm caused him too much pain and he had remained awake, watching the chained man, completely agog. He had watched the man's colour return, watched the chains glow brighter. Even now, he couldn't take his eyes off the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was impossible. He should be dead.
As the others stretched and yawned, unaccustomed to so much uninterrupted sleep, the food lady reached them, the usual tray of grainy porridge in her hands. Her usually vacant expression shifted to one of complete shock as her gaze took in the chained man.
The man in question suddenly yelled, a wordless sound, full of pain.
The food lady's face turned vacant again, and she quickly slid the wooden bowls and spoons into the cages, then scurried out through the door, which slammed shut behind her.
“He's alive!” Antonio gaped, remembering Elise haltingly telling him of the execution wound he had suffered.
“Poor soul,” Father Joe muttered as the man writhed on the floor.
Raoul carefully balanced his bowl on his knee and began to eat left-handed. He stared at the man. His mind could not accept that the man was alive. Even after all the terrible miracles he had experienced, he still could not believe.
Pierre had downed his porridge, smiled brightly at everyone, then rolled over as if to sleep. Raoul shook his head, wondering what had been done to drive the young man senseless. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
“Starla, no!” Larkel screamed, his bright indigo eyes flying open, though they still appeared unfocused.
Raoul barely noticed his half-finished porridge bowl slide off his knee as he launched himself at the bars, ignoring the flare of excruciating pain in his arm. The others all followed suit and the clatter of wooden bowls hitting the stone floor echoed in the momentary stillness. The stranger had caught their undivided attention.
They all spoke at once.
“You know Starla?” Father Joe demanded.
“Is she safe?” Raoul asked, breathless.
“Is she hurt?” Elise whispered softly, choking back tears.
“Where is she? Is she coming here? Does she know the man with red hair wants her dead?” Antonio said, his tone business-like and loud in the chamber.
“Ah, Starla, she danced like a fairy in spring,” Pierre said, smiling vaguely at the ceiling.
Larkel's head was pounding, but that was nothing compared to the searing pain in his neck, which seemed to pulse and flare with every beat of his heart. He should be dead. He remembered the Baron's attack. He remembered shutting his eyes and hearing the sound of the blade whistling as it swung through the air, the tremendous pain just before everything receded into darkness. Now, he was awake. It was hot here and he could feel a hard and uneven floor beneath his back. He no longer had his robe on and could feel the cold metal of the chains wrapped around his naked torso. He knew they would be glowing gold, he could feel them restraining his gathering power as he tried to ease the pain in his neck. His eyes flew open. Starla! She was in terrible danger.
People were suddenly shouting at him, their voices sounding harsh as they echoed back again and again. Slowly, he tried to tilt his head in the direction of their clamouring. Someone had said Starla's name. Or had he just shouted it himself? Moving his head caused the pain in his neck to flare up. He screwed his eyes shut, breathing heavily.
Noticing the man's pained expression, Father Joe wished they had spoken softer. The man had, after all, suffered what should have been a fatal injury. He stilled the others as the young man slowly reopened his eyes
They were a strange, indigo colour. They seemed to glow faintly in the light of the chains, now blue, now purple.
Larkel struggled to make out any details of the nearest cage and the three people in it. He waited patiently for his eyes to come into focus.
A strange, almost hysterical laugh escaped him as his vision cleared. “Raoul? Father Joe? Pierre?”
Raoul made a strangled noise, even as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Father Joe simply let his jaw drop. Pierre nodded politely.
“Hello.”
“And Elise, Antonio and the Salso twins too,” Larkel continued. “The nightmare,” he finished sounding a little mad.
“How do you know us, stranger?” Antonio demanded, his voice stern.
“Did Starla tell you about us?” Elise asked, wide-eyed.
Larkel took two deep breaths, trying to calm the hysteria bubbling in him. If these people, these humans were here, then Starla's dreams of their pain and suffering were real, all real. He looked at Elise, Starla's best friend from childhood.
“It's sort of a long—” Larkel's weak voice was drowned out by a cackle of mirthless laughter.
Larkel's heart froze in terror as Kyron emerged from the shadows of the cavern, the Baron following like a faithful pet.
“You know my other guests, Larkel?” Kyron asked, his lips curved up on one side.
The High Lord ignored him, his attention on the Baron, who was now in full battle regalia, Kyron's crest emblazoned in red on his black, metal chest piece. The urge to throttle the traitor returned, full force.
Suddenly, Father Joe screamed in pain.
“Stop!” Larkel spat, glaring at Kyron, even though his fear never released him.
The old priest stopped screaming and slumped against the cage, unconscious.
“Ah, so you do know them. And care what happens to them.” A malicious smile twisted his features, showing his pointed teeth. “That should make today's torture more fun than usual.”
A deep horn blast reverberated through the chamber. Kyron sighed, annoyed.
He aimed his staff at Larkel. The chains binding the High Lord seemed to grow extensions which flew up to the cavernous ceiling. In seconds, he was hanging some distance above the lava pit. Larkel tried to stifle his scream of agony as he was yanked up from the floor. He didn't succeed.
“We will continue our discussion in a moment,” Kyron said, vanishing in a flare of light.
The Baron stepped to the edge of the pit as soon as his Master had gone. He contemplated Larkel's dangling figure with disgust.
“He stopped me, you know. Master Kyron. He sent a magmus to do it,” the Baron said, caressing the hilt of his sword. “He said you are to be tortured for information first. That's the only reason your head is still connected to your body. Then he will bend you to his will.”
He won't succeed, Larkel thought grimly.
“Braxton,” Larkel closed his eyes and tried to swallow his anger, “please let me explain what happened to your—”
“No! What do I need your lying explanations for?” the Baron boomed, his face twisted with anger and grief. “Kyron showed me well enough. You are the reason my whole family is dead! Even my mother and father's blood is on your hands!”
“Your head is filled with Kyron's lies.” Larkel's voice cracked from exasperation. “How could I have done any harm to your parents? I have never been to the western coast at all, let alone the town of Gotherel.”
The Baron unsheathed his sword and slashed it through the air. “You promised you had a shield that would protect them. My father was sick, too sick too move, but my mother could have. But when your foolish father and that idiot Redkin agreed with your plan, she stayed. Then the ergothan tore the village apart. Ripped them to pieces!
“How could you be so blind? So stupid!
“Then Master Kyron came against the Royal City. My brother, and two sisters were in the guard. Your inaction cost them t
heir lives! You couldn't take out your father and they died because of it!”
Larkel stared disbelievingly at the Baron. He knew many people harboured hatred and fear towards him because of the people they had lost to his father when Kyron turned him. No one ever seemed to really look at what he, a man of twenty, had been asked to do. His anger slipped through his gasp and a long string of profanities issued from his mouth.
The Baron continued, yelling over Larkel's cursing. “And then, when it was all over, I took heart in the fact that although my mother, father and siblings were dead, I still had a family. Do remember Kara?” he hissed, spit flying out between his teeth. “Do you remember my wife, pregnant with our first child? You. You ordered her death! You and Redkin and maybe even that sister of yours fabricated evidence against them! You are responsible for their deaths. I will avenge them soon.”
Larkel stilled himself. He remembered the horrible task that he had been given. His first task as High Lord. A task only his greater magical strength was up to in one sweep. Scanning the Citizens for Kyron's mark, seeing which were dormant drodemions. The Baron's family, his tainted wife, the already dead child within her womb. Larkel's anger evaporated.
“Can't you see the lies that Kyron has spun to have you enthralled to him? Kyron is the murderer. He is the one who killed your siblings as they fought for Galatia.” He waited as the Baron snarled wordlessly at him. “His destruction of the Light Meadows and their Guardian is what drove the ergothan west, what allowed them to fall into Kyron's power. My shield was to guard against Kyron and his magic. I am sorry that the ergothan were led to that village. But now the ergothan serve him. He has corrupted them, too. Have you not seen them in his ranks? Were they not there the first time he attacked the Royal City?”
