by kimberly
"I want nothing of you myself, heriogilde, murderer, but your hide is gold to me for helping Xavier's men find you." The man spat on the floor. "Even we of no sky knew the three worlds were soon to rejoin, that you'd not settle for exile once we were free to cross over into the mortal realm again."
"Then take me," Morgan said, swallowing his anger and thinking fast. If he could not preserve himself, then perhaps he could offer Julienne a temporary reprieve. Given the circumstance, it was not a desirable one, but at least she might survive. Not that she deserves it.
"Keep the woman for yourself. She will mean nothing to Xavier." Though it sounded so, his words were not unthinking or coldhearted. He well knew what the sorcerer did with those taken to him as slaves. For women, especially, their lives as his concubines were not pleasant. They would be physically, and sexually, abused. When they were no longer desirable, their deaths were oft-times horrendous. Xavier offered them as human sacrifices to the Dragon to sustain his own waning power.
As a Raider woman, Julienne would be treated well. In this barren world, the Raiders valued women--and the children they could bear. The lovelier the woman, the higher she would be placed in their society. She would go to the man who could provide best for her, prove his prowess by killing any who challenged for her favors. A bruised woman was worth nothing to them, so he had no fear of her safety with the Raider scout--even one who had gone renegade.
One of the Jan-si warriors stepped forward and drew his finger across his throat in a crude gesture of execution. "Both of you go to Xavier. What he seeks from you, assassin, he can get through the woman."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Xavier D'Shagre's dungeon was designed for the infliction of pain. Located under the upper floors of his sanctuary, the chamber was a voluminous one. Its high ceiling was festooned with hanging cages of all designs, each large enough to hold an adult very uncomfortably, each intended for a specific humiliating torture. The cages hung above an open pit taking up a large portion of the room's center, leaving only enough room at its edges for the other devices of torture. Live coals in the pit smoldered red hot in warning to the unfortunate of what agonies were to be expected when the entered as a prisoner.
There were two prisoners to be added to its numbers today.
The Jan-si warriors shackled their prisoners to the farthest, coldest wall. Though Julienne had been treated well enough during the long walk to this place of death, she'd suffered badly. Her face was gray with weariness, she had not been fed in three days, and she had finally succumbed to exhaustion and hunger, mercifully falling into a faint. Such hardened warriors weren't about to waste valuable food on someone who would probably be put to death by the sorcerer. Julienne's unconscious body hung limp, held upright only by the thick iron cuffs embedded deeply into the stone.
As for Morgan, upon his surrender the Jan-si warriors had taken revenge for their slain brothers. They'd beaten him unmercifully, coming just short of delivering any fatal blows. Dead, he would bring no reward from the sorcerer who owned his soul. Because his regenerative system had had no chance to begin healing, his body still bore the deep cuts and bruises inflicted on him, wounds not deadly enough to kill but vicious enough to cause great discomfort.
"Stop your fighting, assassin," one of the men groused, pushing him along toward his intended restraints. Morgan stumbled but did not fall. Another Jan-si bent and secured a cuff around his ankle. Attached to a long chain, it was securely bolted into the wall.
"Tied like a dog," the Raider scout sneered. "Just like you deserve."
Morgan bent over and yanked at the chain. "You know this will not hold me long," he warned.
The Raider grinned. "It will hold you as long as we hold her," he said, pointing to Julienne's limp body.
I should have killed her myself, Morgan thought bitterly. His bonds were looser, longer, but he was still unable to reach Julienne. Backing up against the wall, he slid down it to sit on the cold stone floor. Watch. Listen. Look for the chance to escape. As well guarded as they were, chances could arise if one's senses were sharp and alert.
The air was rank with death. His gaze traveled to the body of his lover, hanging on the wall like a grisly ornament. Too bad her visions of her own death did not come to pass. I could have at least given her a merciful one.
Morgan rubbed his hands across his face, as if trying to erase the image burning itself into his brain. There was a very slender chance of survival, and each ticking minute took that toward nil. He looked around the chamber again. How well he remembered this place. I killed Nisidia here…our child. Now, I will probably meet my own death. The sins of the past. You knew you could not escape them.
Close by--again not close enough for him to reach--a small cage sat in the corner. Behind the black bars was a ragged little being. Though only three feet tall, the creature possessed humanoid features.
Morgan visually assessed the tiny captive. Danarran.
An enchanting sight, the elf possessed golden skin and golden eyes. His ears slanted into an elfin point, his white hair was long and elaborately braided. Colored beads and ribbons denoted his ancestors' rank and citizenship in the city from which he hailed: Danarra, third of the three underworld cities. He was dressed in rare unicorn leather, almost his traditional wardrobe. Missing was the small bag which should have been tied at his waist, his spell pouch, the bag of tricks in which he carried bits and pieces of Danarran conjuring. With his bag, Morgan knew the elf could perform many feats of magic that were vital to his survival outside of his homeland.
Without his pouch, the Danarran is nothing save a fancy elf, he thought, hardly in the best of moods. So much for help from that side.
"What is your name, elf?" he asked in the Quarayan dialect the elf would recognize, a common mutt language in the dimensions.
The elf looked surprised that anyone should speak to him. Standing up, he eagerly pressed his small body to the bars of his cage. "Lynar," he squeaked in a small but musical voice.
"What did you do to get yourself here?"
"Caught by one of Xavier's female slaves while attempting a daring feat," he said proudly.
"Ah," Morgan said, nodding his head. "You were stealing."
"Not stealing!" the elf insisted. "Borrowing."
"Borrowing. Stealing. It is all the same to Xavier," he commented with a snort. "Too soon you will be roasted on the coals of his fires." The elf gulped and skittered away as far as his cage would allow.
"Be silent!" Rutola, the blond leader of the Jan-si growled, giving Morgan a prod with his foot. "If I'm lucky, your woman will earn me more gold."
"If you are lucky, you will leave here alive," Morgan grated, jerking his chain and snapping it smartly against the man's leg. The Raider howled in pain and sent Morgan a threatening glare, but his attention was no longer on his prisoners. His eyes were riveted upon the being who came silently into the dungeon.
The imposing figure of Xavier loomed large. Standing over six feet in height, a beefy semblance of a man dressed in billowing crimson robes, the sorcerer was completely bald. His skin was wax white, half his face disfigured with deep scars where his right eye had been completely gouged out, a face that was cold and unforgiving to everything he looked upon. The open socket gazed mindlessly into nowhere. His left eye seemed to see everything in a single glance. He was accompanied by a half-dozen of his personal slaves, eunuchs whose physical builds were impressive.
Morgan narrowed his eyes. His gaze dwelled heavily on the figure he too well remembered, the enemy he had battled for over seven hundred years. The bastard comes. Noid ny h-Anmey. The evil one.
A smile twisted Xavier's lips, parting to reveal hideously yellow teeth. His grip tightened around the wooden stock of his ram's-head staff. The teeth of the ram's head gnashed together with a snap, its two eyes alive with an unholy glitter.
More horrible than the semi-living ram's head was the little creature perched on the shoulder of the sorcerer. Completely black, its body was slender. Stand
ing on two legs bearing sharp claws, it had wings that spread out under horrible yellow eyes and a long curving beak. Hungry for blood, it strained in its place, eager for the kill. Evil, from the deepest parts of hell, radiated from the demonic animal. Xavier raised his hand to calm the creature.
"Ah, Rutola." The sorcerer spoke to the Raider scout in a voice as thick and heavy as himself. "You've succeeded in bringing me exactly what I wished to have." He nodded, pleased with his acquisitions.
"It was as you said," Rutola agreed with a grunt. "You said you'd pay me well for his hide."
Control in every step he took, Xavier began to close the gap separating him from his prisoners. "I see you have been heavy handed in your handling of him." The sorcerer noted the Raider's own bruised face. "And I see he fought back. How many of my men did he kill?"
Rutola's hand rose to his bruised eye. "There were losses," he admitted. "The total dead were four."
Xavier's odd gaze settled on Julienne. "His woman is unconscious," he said. "Get her awake." He motioned to one of his eunuchs. "Bring water."
The eunuch hurried to retrieve a wooden bucket filled to its brim with water. When he came back with his burden, he doused Julienne with the cold liquid.
The still body hanging on the dungeon wall came painfully to life. Drawing air into her lungs, spluttering on the water, Julienne slowly raised her head. She moaned, arching her body against the cold stone, fighting the cruel bonds holding her upright.
"Where am I?" she murmured, dazed and confused. Lifting her head against the stone wall, she opened bloodshot eyes, feeling like a corpse being resurrected after a great length of inactivity. She wet her dry, cracked lips with her tongue.
Ignoring her, Xavier turned to Morgan. "I wondered if you'd be stupid enough to return to Sclyd, if you would even dare to face me knowing I own you."
Clenching his eyes shut, Morgan tasted fresh blood mingling with the old crusted at the corner of his mouth. Choking, he forced himself to swallow.
"You knew I would come back at any cost," he gasped through the pain assailing his system. Every bone in his body ached, but he refused to show his own weaknesses. "Even to die."
Xavier rapped his staff maddeningly on the stone. "I must say, I grew quite bored waiting for the portals to open again. 'Tis a pity you did not choose to slit your own throat. You could've spared yourself the humiliation of having to admit I am the master of your destiny now. Refuse to obey my wishes again, and I will show you what hell really is." He paused as if suddenly struck by a deep recollection. "Of course, pain means little to you. Who better than I should know the depths of your psyche. Pain's your constant companion. The very factor we all fear has made you a demi-god in this dimension. Oh, but I shall change this!"
A mad giggle broke from his throat. "No, I know no torture can break your stubborn neck. But her…" the sorcerer indicated Julienne. The creature on his shoulder snapped its beak in anticipation of sampling human flesh.
"This mortal. How much can her fragile self endure, do you think? Such a beguiling creature." He tapped his staff maddeningly on the stone floor with his every utterance. "It's to my advantage to discover you still retain a bit of your fading human emotions."
Confident in his sovereignty, Xavier drew himself up to his full height. With a careful hand, he transferred the sharp-clawed demon from his shoulder to sit atop a grisly iron maiden.
"Stay, my pet," he soothed. "Soon you shall glut yourself on the blood you so desire."
Morgan dragged himself to his feet. "The woman has nothing to do with the battle between us," he argued. "Let the Raider have her. You and I know what this is about. Power. I helped take it from you, and you want it back. You should accept defeat and realize the Dark Age is over. We were not meant to be gods."
"Let her go? No, no, my old friend. To let her go would cost me the obvious leverage I now have over you. Just as I do not intend to let you die now, I do not intend to part with the beautiful prize you have provided me." Xavier's scowl grew deep. "Refuse me what I want and you shall firsthand witness her degradation at my touch. As cold a creature as you are yourself, I doubt you'll dare my threats now."
Having no reason to rush his game, Xavier ignored Morgan. Deliberately, he moved closer to Julienne, reaching out to stroke her cheek. The demon perched on the iron maiden followed the touch of its master with eager eyes.
"She's not perfect," Xavier observed, tracing her scarred cheek. "A scarred woman. Her wounds resemble my own. How fitting."
Julienne flinched and tried to turn her head from the sorcerer's touch. Now that the vacancy was gone from her gaze, she looked serious, determined. Her green eyes were darkly intelligent, telling him she recognized her fate. Xavier bristled at the defiant way she looked at him. He grabbed her left breast and crushed it within his grasp. Julienne screamed in pain, then with considerable effort stifled her scream as Xavier continued to knead the soft flesh. The sorcerer rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger before twisting it outward. Blood seeped from Julienne's lip where she had bitten into it. Summoning what strength she could muster, she twisted away from Xavier. With only his fingertips pinching the tip of her nipple, the movement was sufficient to break his grasp of her. It wasn't a great victory, but it brought a smile to her lips.
"Don't touch me, you son-of-a-bitch!" she spat like an angry cat. The stone wall at her back was solid, giving her no place to go.
Xavier laughed. "Do not fear me, woman," he said, though she could not understand his words. He turned back to Morgan. "It would shock her to learn you find your own power through the deaths of others. You have no feelings. You are a creature of destruction from beginning to end."
"Then I shall show you destruction, Xavier." Seizing the chance, Morgan strained against his chain, tugging at it violently until it snapped. A blur in motion, he struck hard and fast, toppling the Jan-si to his immediate left with a crippling blow to the midsection, using the weight of his body to take the man down.
If I am going to die, he decided, it will be fighting.
Dropping his knee across the Jan-si's wrist, Morgan snapped the bone cleanly, forcing the man to let loose of his sword. Moving with the grace of a feral cat, he made a garrote of the chain and pressed it against his unlucky victim's throat, twisting the man's head and strangling him even as he rolled aside to avoid the whistling swath of a second guard's sword. He didn't make the dodge quickly enough and the blade put a long, but not deep, slice in his side.
"You are soon to fall," Xavier chuckled amid the melee.
Morgan ducked a second swing of the guard's weapon. In an unexpected move, he came up from below, planting a hard blow in the man's abdomen, then a second across his throat as he fell. All fighting was fair when one was on the losing side. The Jan-si howled in pain as Morgan tackled him with a body-crushing tackle, putting the larger man flat on his back. Wrestling away the man's sword, he moved to put the deadly blade into action.
"Take the evil one!" A cry of defiance echoed through the dungeon. "This time you will go down!"
Surprisingly, the words came from Rutola. Lifting his crossbow, he pulled its trigger. His arrow pierced one of the Jan-si squarely through the heart.
"You send your legions to kill our men and take our women as your whores. It's our turn to find victory over you, iarog." Evil one.
Rutola quickly reloaded his weapon but had no time to use it again. Two of the Jan-si tackled him, wrestling the weapon out of the Raider's hands.
What the hell? Morgan started to think. Why should Rutola help? But his thoughts were interrupted.
"You'd be wise not to take his life…" a third man said to Morgan. His sword hovered menacingly. "…lest you lose your head."
Breathing hard, a thousand savage emotions warring through his mind, Morgan considered his position. He was down, vulnerable, wounded--and still outnumbered. A slow smile jerked up one corner of his mouth. Not in mirth. The beginnings of a dare.
"Kill me then," he said. A
toss of his head cleared gray-shot bangs curtaining his forehead. He slit the second Jan-si's throat without hesitation, sending the unlucky man to a quick death. His move was clearly done with cold-blooded motivation. "If I am going to die, I will not die alone."
Roaring over the death of his comrade, the third Jan-si lifted his sword. "Your head'll roll!"
"Cease!" Xavier's commanding voice cut through the tension. His forehead crinkled in anger. "Drop your weapon. There's no use resisting further. You're outnumbered and you've clearly lost."
"That tide could turn." Morgan's voice held an overlay of effort, as if he were close to losing control.
Xavier wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Toward your death, I'm sure."
Morgan shrugged, as if to say who cares? "Nara noain dhyt! S'cummey yn Jouyl lhiam! I do not give a damn."
"A good play, but hardly good enough." Xavier continued his taunt. "You're slower, and clumsy, hardly the skilled mercenary you used to be."
Rising from his crouch, Morgan tightened his grip on the stolen sword. Swaying a little, he advanced a step, moving with concentrated effort, as if sheer force of will could immediately help him overcome his body's weakness. Bleeding from the slice in his side, he was unsteady on his feet. Voice even and low, he tightened his grip on his weapon.
"If you do not mind, I prefer to keep a weapon when facing you, Xavier. You are a man known to give no mercy."
Xavier's pale lips moved, and he whispered a few words. Raising his hand, he made a brief gesture, turning his hand palm out, then forward. A thin streak of fiery light flamed out from the tips of his fingers. A vibrant force of pulsing power, red-hot fire splayed around Morgan's hand, the sword becoming a searing rod.
Staggered by the potent flames chewing his flesh, Morgan cast it quickly aside. A most painful punishment, he thought through the fresh assault of pain. He turned his hand to reveal the fierce burn marring his palm.
Xavier's frigid gaze fragmented. He twitched his hand, curling his fingers toward his body. Borne skyward by an invisible force, the sword lifted, coming to his hand.
