Carl skid to a halt and ran back wrapping his arm over her mouth and nose to silence her. His panicked state was obvious as he spastically looked around and waited for someone to attack while he unknowingly smothered Mac who had gone from gasping for air to unable to breathe altogether. She fought with what little energy she had left and as she jabbed her good elbow into his ribs until he finally looked down and released her. She took several quick, yet satisfying breaths before kicking him hard in the leg.
"What the hell was that for?" Carl rasped while dropping to one knee and looking angrily at Mac.
“I couldn’t breathe!” Mac yelled back much louder. Carl flailed his hands as if trying to waive the loudness away from anyone who may be around.
"You need to be quiet or we are not going to make it to the caves before we are caught."
"My legs burn from running and my arm is broken from the fall." Tears ran down Mac's cheeks. "I need to wait for Ed to come and take me the rest of the way. I'm too weak and in far too much pain to walk."
"If we do not get to the caves right away we won't be going at all, instead we will be piles of ash from the assassins finding and killing us." Carl knelt looking at Mac and grabbed her broken arm. She let out another scream and tried to pull away but his grip was too tight and her arm bent abnormally; bone digging into the muscles around it and making the forest spin around her. She tried to let out another scream, but this time Carl was prepared for it and pressed his hand hard against her mouth. Unable to pull free, Mac began to panic, sweat slowly ran down her forehead.
A green glow flashed and the pain subsided leaving a cool feeling in its place.
"You seem to forget we can heal these kinds of injuries." Carl said removing his hand from Mac's mouth. She fell back to the ground panting like a dog, but glad the pain was gone. She could not help but be amazed at how easy it was for these people to do things that were so complex back in her world. She cocked her head to the side looking in the direction they had just come from waiting for Ed to help her, but he never came.
After several long minutes, Mac sat up and looked at Carl who was already standing and examining their surroundings again, waiting. He was spooked and obviously quite scared to be on this mission where he was expected to keep Mac safe. Seeing how nervous he was Mac stood and started heading in the direction of where she thought the caves might be; then a branch broke from behind her and she froze. The hairs ran cold up her arms as they stood on end. The normal warm air Mac had gotten used to quickly became uncomfortably cold.
"It's about time." Carl said in a relieved tone from behind Mac.
She spun around quickly with excitement that Ed had finally caught up with them, only, it wasn't Ed. Instead two dirty well-armed men stood inches away from either side of her. They were covered in leather and mechanical gadgetry which Mac had never seen. If it wasn't for the fact that they were on land, Mac would have sworn these men were pirates. She jumped back startled to see them stepping towards her with their beady rat eyes locked onto her, then she looked to Carl for help and understanding sunk in.
Carl stepped forward and placed his hand on Mac's shoulder. "I'm so very sorry Mackenzie." His fist shot forward into her nose bringing the sensation of pain and blood running down her face and throat; her tears blinded her from seeing the traitor. She dropped to the ground in a state of dazed confusion on the verge of blacking out. One of the men bent down, flipped her over, and poured some foul-tasting liquid down her throat and pressed his hand over her mouth. He waited for her to swallow it all before allowing her to once again breathe and rolled her to the side so she would not asphyxiate on her own blood. He then stood next to his partner.
"What was that?" Carl asked.
"It will keep her complacent." The man replied ignoring Carl's concern.
"We ain't got no time fo' small talk here, now do we." The other man said. “duke Weir will be very proud of what ya gone and done here, he will."
"Then the test is over, and I have proven myself worthy to be one of his loyal assassins?" Carl said excitedly.
"'E wanted me to give ya a special thank you for your continued assistance and has a special reward if ya are interested."
"I am very interested. I will need some coin if I am to find some place in the city to live, so any extra he is willing to give is greatly appreciated."
"Oh, tis' ain't money fo' ya, tis' is somethin' much greater and more valuable for not only yo'self, but for all of us as well." The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful glass sphere filled with some sort of yellowish liquid. He held it out so Carl could see it clearly.
"It's beautiful, but I have no idea what it is."
“A traitor's death." The man flicked his wrist and the ball flew forward hitting Carl directly in the center of his chest. The sphere exploded in a wave of liquid fire spreading quickly over his body. He screamed a high-pitched scream that sounded like something from an attacking harpy. Panic set in and the wind picked up quickly, but instead of extinguishing the flames it fueled the already out of control fire. The smell of burning flesh hit Mac hard as she lay several feet from the assassin’s victim; unable to move. Carl collapsed continuing to burn, silent...dead.
"Throw the girl on the cart-port and let's get out of here." The man said to his partner as he looked around through squinted eyes. The forest was abnormally quiet.
Mac felt her body lift from the ground, but she was in a haze and every time a thought came close to conscience, it quickly disappeared. She looked through running tears knowing someone was coming, but unable to remember who, or why it was so important they come. She was dropped hard onto a flat metal surface. Pain from the fall came quickly before disappearing just as fast. Her side and nose would suddenly sting for a split second, then a wave of warmth would wash them away. She simply cringed every time the pain hit, but could not find the energy or care to scream out. After several moments, the tears dried up and she lay uncaring while watching the trees move swiftly by as they went. She could have sworn someone was in the distance watching her, but he never came close enough to be anything more than a delusion.
The smell of the forest was euphoric, but was eventually overtaken by rot and filth. As the group entered the city a small troop of city guards fell in behind the assassins making it improbable that anyone would be able to rescue the assassins fresh catch. Mac could see some of the citizens look up quickly at her before dropping their eyes back to the ground and moving on quickly. The stares didn't bother Mac, as a matter of fact, nothing seemed to bother her at all.
The cart slowed and muffled voices came from all around her before they began moving again and the group passed through a second gate. The rancid smells of the city gave way to flowers and fresh summer air. Mac lay comatose to the world and several more minutes passed before they came to a third gate which they stopped at for much longer than the first two before being permitted inside. The cart finally came to a stop inside the gate and Mac was once again lifted into the air and over the shoulder of one of her captors. The waves of pain came much faster now and her thoughts stayed longer before fizzling out. The guards took position at both ends of a long hallway and the assassins carried Mac into a room and once again dropped her onto the floor. This time it hurt much longer than prior. Mac cowered in a fetal position and one of the assassins crouched over her pouring something into her mouth again. As the last drops ran down her throat the haze seemed to slowly lift itself bringing the pain and fear back.
"You have both done very well.” Said duke Weir. "And the problem with that filthy magic user has been taken care of?"
"Yes, sir." One of the assassins said.
"We set 'im on fire, we did." The other assassin said through a psychotic laugh.
“That’s very good. Consider your night’s indiscretions at the pub, on me." Duke Weir said before tossing a small purse to the men." And consider this a bonus. Come back when you are sober; I always have more work for those who aren't afraid to get thei
r hands dirty." The men bowed slightly and left as quickly as they had come.
Mac stayed balled up on the floor shaking and hoped everything would go away and she would simply wake from this horrid nightmare. The ice-cold splash of water hit her with surprise; she shrieked and balled up tighter. It had been unexpected and for a split second dulled her pains. Her clothing simply soaked up the water and left her wet and shivering on the wood floor.
"The water was my way of being kind, my dear," Duke Weir said. "but I have no quarrels using my cane to beat you into submission for your insolence. I suggest you stand quickly before my kindness wears off." The duke wrapped his cane against the desk several times and Mac had no doubts he would beat her just for fun if she didn't do exactly what he said, but at that moment she didn't care and simply lay once again in a euphoric state looking at the dark wood wall.
"I see they have given you a dose of terrian extract to keep you docile." The Duke said. "This should help with that." He stood above her tipping a vial of liquid slowly over her face and mouth. As drops of sweet liquid ran over her tongue and slowly down her throat, the antidote washed away the euphoric feeling and aches and pains of the trip washed over her body bringing her once again to a ball cringing and moaning on the floor.
A slight whistle broke the rooms silence before a burn and sting from the lashing of the duke’s cane, finding its way across Mac's back, came over her. She screamed, arching back from the pain. A second whistle came and the pain now ran across her stomach bringing her forward still screaming and trying to comprehend what is going on. Finally, a third whistle and her leg took the force of the cane welting her with his mark of cruelty. Her screaming stopped and sobs and pleas for him to stop instead made their way from her trembling mouth.
"If you would like to avoid being beaten more, I suggest you stand and address me properly instead of bleeding all over my Bontharian rug." The duke said. Mac shook waiting for him to continue to beat her for fun. The duke wrapped his cane against his desk again and Mac balled up tighter. She slowly opened an eye squinting at him who stared back with an amused grin at her. When the beating didn't come, Mac slowly moved and tried to stand only to fall several times before finally being able to stand, bunched over and unable to stand straight from the recent assaults.
The room spun and she was forced to close her eyes as to not throw up all over the floor. After a moment, the spinning and sea sick feeling subsided and she could open her eyes again. The room was dimly lit with candles and her focus set on the man standing before her. He was not much taller than Mac and was very well dressed in a black suit. His ash hair was slicked back and wet looking from whatever product he used to keep its shape. Even though he held a cane which she knew he brandished as a weapon, he was not very threatening to look at. He was quite handsome for a middle-aged man and certainly did not look like the monster everyone made him out to be. She looked to his face and finally saw the darkness in him. His eyes were hollow and uncaring, his lips curved slightly at the ends showing her how much he enjoyed seeing her in pain. She could see he was the kind of man that would torture and kill just for the pleasure of doing so. He was the kind of man that needed no words to threaten someone. The devil stood before her and there was nothing she could do to escape his deadly grip.
As certain death stood at the threshold once again, Mac let her defiance take control of her mouth.
"You could have simply sent me a text message and invited me to come for a visit. It would have saved you a lot of money."
"I can tell you are trying to be funny, Mrs. Blackburn, but I fail to understand your humor." The duke said.
"That's right, you are stuck in the nineteenth century and have no grasp on the finer technologies the world has to offer."
"I can assure you we are far more advanced than you give us credit for. I have seen the things that come from your home and they do nothing more than make you lazy and a slave to their creators. Look around my city. It runs off the pure power of steam. Every home and shanty within these walls runs off it and the people could not survive without it. I also control the mines where we harvest fire stones for the steam recycling units. I am the power here and to survive the people need me. They work hard for their possessions which is more than I can say for the weakness coming from your home."
“I’m sure your people have a great respect for you as a leader.” Mac replied with a slight bow ignoring the aches as she moved. She saw him squeeze the silver ball on the top of his cane tighter.
"A little attitude on this one now isn't there." Said a female voice coming from Macs right. Mac was slightly startled and looked quickly towards the person. The woman was taller than the duke and deathly thin, dressed in a long blood red dress and black gloves. Her hair was as dark as her brothers, but was curled like a cute doll. She looked upon Mac with a smile and slowly moved towards her looking from head to toe.
"Come; stop tormenting our guest, dear sister." The duke laughed. The duchess circled Mac like a hawk waiting to swoop down onto its prey. She licked her lips slightly and ran a finger down Mac's arm then stopped, pressing her body against Mac's back and continuing to run her finger up and down Mac's arm.
Mac couldn't help but think how cold the woman was. Her body hummed slightly beneath the cold tight flesh pressed against her. Mac moved to step away, but the woman held her pants with a finger from each hand and with a wrap of the cane on the desk Mac froze back into place. The woman ran her hand over Macs stomach and giggled before placing a cold kiss on Macs shoulder. Mac pulled away slightly a second time before a throaty laugh came from the duke.
"Quite the fight in this one;” He said. “she is just like her parents." Mac froze again ignoring the advances of the woman and snapped her head focusing on the Duke.
"What could you possibly know of my parents?" Mac yelled at the duke through clenched teeth.
The duke moved slowly from behind his desk and crossed the gap between Mac and himself. As he stepped to her side the cane whistled through the air again and welted the back of her legs. She dropped from the grasp of the duke's sister and tears flowed again form her eyes. She simply lay on the ground rocking back and forth and gripping the freshly beaten skin waiting for the next attack.
"You will watch how you dare talk to me," The duke said. "or I will have your tongue removed from your disobedient mouth. You will stand in front of me and act like a civil being and not like the filthy mongrel you and your family are."
Mac looked at her attacker through squinted eyes, her face reddened from his chastising words. She envisioned crushing him and wanted nothing more than for him to suffer more than any other person she had ever met. She wanted his body to be flattened and destroyed along with the rest of this filthy place. The glasses chimed slightly before the room began shaking violently. Pictures and glasses fell to the ground smashing into pieces. Candles fell, smashing into little pieces, and catching spilled absinthe on fire. Books leapt off the shelves freeing themselves, and Mac simply stared at the duke who looked back at her. She waited for him to start beating her again in hopes it would push her completely over the edge and allow her enough anger to kill him, but he didn't hit her. He just stared back unfazed before doing something she had not expected. He smiled.
A loud crack broke the silence and blood sprayed from Mac's shoulder as a bullet ripped completely through it, dropping her to the ground. The room stopped shaking and her screams echoed off the walls as a new pain gripped her. Pushing her hand hard against the bleeding hole in her shoulder she flailed looking around the room and seeing the barrel of a gun pointed at her. She balled up again and waited for the next shot that would end her life.
"That will be quite enough, Miss." Said a deep calm voice from the back corner of the room. Mac slowly untucked her head from beneath her arms and looked towards the mysterious voice. A tall man stood gun trained on his target. He was taller than anyone else in the room and the power that radiated off him told Mac he was the most dangerous man in the
room. His salt and pepper hair hid underneath a cowboy hat, but the handlebar mustache gave away the color. A pair of copper welding goggles rested around his neck and his white button down shirt was spotless. The man spun the pistol once on a finger and slid it into the leather holster on his right hip. Its twin rested in a matching holster on his left hip and both were attached to leather Criss crossed belts lined with cartridges. He pulled his frock coat over the pistols and stood back against the wall watching Mac, smoking a thin cigar, and saying nothing.
"Yes, we most certainly do not want things to get out of hand here, now do we?" Said the duke. "It would be a shame to take your pretty little head off." Mac continued to stare at the gunslinging assassin and slowly pulled her hand from the wound which surprisingly had already stopped bleeding. She raised her hands in show of surrender and started to stand back up.
The cane dug into her wound and she dropped to the ground once again crying out as blood started pouring out of the reopened wound and flooding her with pain. The duke pulled the tip of the cane from her then swung it over and over beating Mac as hard as he could. Her skin started to peel away with every connection, but he didn't slow. Mac cried while he screamed incoherently at her. She lay on the floor half conscious and bloody wondering what she did to deserve this. She wondered why she was taken from her home just to be tortured in some unknown land. She closed her eyes and let the memory of her father invade her thoughts. The pain subsided. She could feel her body move with every new hit, but what would have had her screaming in agony now felt nothing more than a slight bee sting. After a minute, even that ceased and the world quieted.
Mac tried to open her eyes, but only one would open, only a squint, and the other was swollen almost completely shut. She could see the duke standing, his back to her, with his fists pressed against his desk. He took heavy deep breaths; the beating had obviously been more of a workout than he was used to. His body trembled with what Mac thought was anger, but there would be no need to press her luck in chastising him since she lacked the energy to do so altogether.
City of Steam (Blackburn Chronicles) Page 9
