by Giles Carwyn
6
DATHYL WOULDN’T shut up.
“Did you know they’re calling you the Ohndarien Lion? Y’ought to be proud of that. Stand tall. Keep your head above water.” Dathyl chuckled. “Swim tall. That’s all I’m saying. If you give up, then what are you? The Ohndarien Fish? You don’t want that…”
Brophy sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, waiting for the next tide as Dathyl blathered on. The water was coming soon. Already the lowest corner of his cell glimmered in the torchlight. Little waves splashed and drew back. He wanted sleep, wanted warmth, more food. All the things he was supposed to want. He kept his breathing even, pushing back the cold, tempering the rumbling in his stomach, bolstering his energy.
Twenty guards had rotated duty with Brophy over the last three weeks, and they had all bet on how long the Nine Squares champion would last. Dathyl’s time wasn’t for another month, and he insisted on giving Brophy inspirational speeches every time he had guard duty. The earliest guesses had already lost, though there had not been many of them. Most had high expectations of the Ohndarien Lion.
Brophy tried to sleep, but Dathyl kept talking to him. The ignorant ogre never shut up and didn’t seem to realize that Brophy would drown much sooner without sleep.
When Brophy came to the Wet Cells, he wanted to die, but as that first tide came surging in, he found giving up was a lot harder than he thought.
Scythe could have kept him from this. That thought had almost driven Brophy to despair in the first week. But there was always hope. Nobody could take that away from him. The ocean would have to fight him to the last.
“…think about the honor of Ohndarien.” Dathyl continued. “If you crack off and give up this early, what’ll they think of you? They’ll say, ‘now there goes a ’darien who’s not worth his salt,’ they’ll say. You want them sayin’ that about you? You want them…”
It had been thirty-nine tides since Brophy’s first night in the Wet Cells. He waited, half-asleep, for the fortieth to begin. Brophy faded out, leaning his head against the cell wall.
He dreamed of swimming with Shara in the glittering bay outside the Summer Gate. Trent stomped and shook his fist at them from the shore. “Ohndarien Lion!” Trent growled in Dathyl’s voice. “Wouldn’t want to be a fish!”
Brophy and Shara laughed, ignoring him. Brophy swam after her, but she always stayed ahead of him, swimming as smoothly as a dolphin. No matter how hard he swam, he couldn’t catch her. She looked back and smiled, her long black hair fanning out in the water.
His dream changed suddenly. A haunting song descended from the sky. Clouds rolled in, obscuring the sun, and it grew cold. Shara paused, and so did Brophy, looking up. They bobbed in the bay, treading water and listening to the beautiful voice that made his blood run cold.
“Did you hear that?” Shara asked with Dathyl’s voice.
Brophy blinked. Shara vanished, and he looked up at his idiot guard. His dreams pulled at him, that beautiful voice urging him to fall asleep again.
“It’s Llyella, the maiden of the depths,” Brophy murmured, smiling. “She’s come for me at last.”
“Who?”
“Llyella,” he said, closing his eyes. “She sings sailors to sleep, calling them to her watery embrace.”
“Well that bitch can’t have you for another month,” Dathyl said. He stood up, grabbed the torch, and disappeared down the tunnel. Brophy drifted back to sleep. The water would be back soon. He needed to sleep.
A man’s grunt and the sharp pang of breaking iron jolted him awake. He sat up, blinking. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. It wasn’t just hunger. It was something worse.
He looked around. Dathyl was gone. A wave splashed against Brophy’s leg, and he stood up. Again, there was a groan of metal followed by a pang and a splash. Brophy put his hand to his heart; it suddenly felt very empty and wrong.
He stumbled to the grate and pressed his cheeks against the cold bars. Out of the darkness, he heard the last sound he ever expected to hear, a man’s cry of pleasure. It set his teeth on edge. He peered into the gloom, straining against the thick bars. It felt like the air was heavy with oily smoke, but nothing obscured his vision.
Dathyl had taken the torch, but he hadn’t gone far. Within the ring of light, Brophy saw both guards. Mashed between them was another figure, dark as night but definitely a woman. Both guards had stripped down to their boots, shuffling awkwardly as their own movements threw them off-balance. The black woman writhed against them and both men humped her like beasts, one in front and one behind, thrusting urgently.
Brophy tried to turn away, but he couldn’t make himself. It was awful, arousing him and disgusting him at the same time.
The woman whispered to the guards, encouraged them. Her hands ran through Dathyl’s hair while her thighs wrapped around Locklen’s waist.
“Yes.” She rocked against them. “Feel the fires growing inside you. Feel the flames make you strong.”
Their panting grew faster, moving toward orgasm. As they neared, the shadow woman put her feet on the ground. She twisted her hips out from between the two men and stepped away. They reached for her, but she held up a hand. They stopped as if on strings. Descending before Locklen, she took him into her mouth as she pulled his breeches up. Releasing him, she retied the laces.
“No,” Locklen growled in a deep voice. “I want—”
“Shhhhh…” She put her fingers on his belly, and he froze. Still on her knees, she turned and did the same to Dathyl, fastening his pants.
“Now, my giants.” She rose to her feet, took their wrists like children and led them to the bars of Brophy’s cell. “When our work is done, I will reward you.”
Dathyl’s eyes glimmered red as if they held a fire. He breathed in quick, short gasps, and the veins stood out on his neck. He looked thicker, his shoulders heavier than before. Locklen was the same. His lips pulled back from clenched teeth, and he stared at Brophy like a zealot. Brophy stepped back from the bars. They both looked like Athyl or Krellis, dangerous men, beasts that would rip him apart in seconds.
The shadow woman led them over to Brophy’s cell, and he backed into the corner. “Now lift,” she purred.
“By the Seasons!” Brophy exclaimed, seeing her blackened face for the first time. “Shara!”
“Hush, Brophy,” she murmured. “Not now.” She stroked Locklen’s back with a finger, touched Dathyl’s heaving shoulders. “Lift, my warriors,” she said in her throaty voice. “Lift.”
Suddenly speechless, Brophy watched as Dathyl and Locklen bent and grabbed the bars of the huge grate. The two of them pulled, grunting, but the grate did not move.
“Lift, my warriors!” Shara said, louder. “Nothing can stop you.”
They screamed, their necks bulging, veins standing out starkly on their burly forearms. Brophy rushed to help them. He grabbed the bars and pulled, feeling like he was trying to lift a mountain. A wave surged from the back of the cell, cascading across the guards’ boots and Shara’s black shins. The grate creaked and rose a few inches. Shara slid a small block of iron underneath.
“Rest, my giants, rest,” she murmured. They let the grate slam down onto the hunk of iron.
Brophy panted from his exertion. He had a hard time believing the blackened woman before him was really Shara. He couldn’t look at her. Despite his terrible fatigue, he wanted her. His body ached with the anticipation of sliding his hands along her smooth skin, of touching the dark V between her legs. He shuddered, tried to shake the horrible feeling away. “What are you doing!” he cried. She shot him a fierce glance and shook her head.
“Now, my giants, again.” They grabbed the bars and heaved. Brophy strained with them. Again, the grate creaked up another notch. Shara withdrew a longer piece of iron and wedged it next to the other one. The grate came down again, almost open enough for a man to slide underneath. The water washed across their legs, ever rising.
She let them rest.
“One last time, my giants, and th
en you may rest forever.” Calf deep in water, they pulled one more time on the grate. Brophy heard a wet snap somewhere in Locklen’s arm, and the grate sagged, stopped. He looked up, panting. Shara had the third length of iron wedged in place.
Locklen’s left arm hung limply at his side, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Shara looked at Brophy. “Come, my friend. You’re free.”
He hesitated, not wanting to get near her.
“Now, Brophy,” she hissed.
He took a breath and plunged underwater, scrambling beneath the grate. He surfaced and backed a step away. “What have you done to yourself?” he whispered.
Her eyes narrowed, and her lip twitched, then the flash of anger was gone as though it had never been.
Her dark flesh glistened in the torchlight. He ached to throw her up against the bars and thrust up into her. Clenching his teeth, he turned away.
“Sweet Brophy…” She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Be calm. I am almost done here.”
His skin shivered at her touch. Her voice was the rasp of a crone, her gesture wicked and ugly. Acid splashed up his throat as the breath of power touched him. He stumbled to his knees and vomited.
“Shara! Stop it!”
Her eyes flickered coldly. “Never mind him, my giants,” she said to the others. “Under the bars. Both of you.”
They pushed themselves under the water and squeezed through the narrow space beneath the grate. They stood leering, arms hanging at their sides like puppets.
“Remove the iron,” she murmured to Dathyl. He knelt, took the medium piece and hammered at the longer one. It sprang free, and the grate crashed down, trapping the two men inside.
“You are nothing,” she hissed at them.
“Shara—!” Brophy began.
She held up a fierce hand to him, continued to speak to the men behind the grate. “You are weak. You are fools. You are nothing, you deserve to die in this cell.”
The guards seemed to shrink. Locklen screamed, holding his arm and collapsing to his knees.
Brophy’s stomach turned again, and he splashed up the hall, away from her. The corridor sloped up, and in moments he was on dry ground. Weak and wobbly, he staggered up the tunnel to the guards’ room at the bottom of the spiral stairs that led to the Giant’s Tooth. Locklen’s screams quickly dwindled to pathetic whimpers.
Two torches burned in the small room. There were three tables set at haphazard angles and a scattering of wooden chairs. A pair of cots had been provided for the guards. There was nowhere to go. The Giant’s Tooth wouldn’t open until low tide, hours from now.
He turned around. Stained black and naked as the night, Shara walked calmly up from the cells, her hips swaying.
“Stay away from me,” he whispered.
“And why would I do that, Brophy? We have nine hours to wait until we can escape. I will make you a god in that time.”
She walked closer, and he forced himself to stay where he was. Her eyes were strangely warm as she spoke. “I will make it sweet, Brophy, not like it was with them. With you it will be beautiful. I will be gentle.”
His heart thundered painfully in his chest. He wanted her so badly, he couldn’t get away from it. She walked closer, and he held out his hands. She leaned forward and kissed his fingers. His skin shivered.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered.
“Do what?” she said, smiling playfully. “I think you want me to do that.”
“No.”
She brought her other hand up to his arm. “I’ve come for you. Scythe said you wanted to die, but I knew you wouldn’t give up. You fought the ocean. You dreamed of escape, and now I am here. Let me help you.” Her hands slid down his chest and past his naked stomach.
He grabbed her wrists. “Don’t.” His penis responded to her touch, growing painfully hard, but his stomach lurched. “No. Not this way.”
“Shushhh,” she whispered, stepping closer, taking one of his fingers into her mouth. “It will be beautiful.”
Brophy grabbed her wrists and squeezed as hard as he could. “I’d rather be back in that cell.”
“You used to want me, Brophy,” she said, backing him against the wall, pressing her body against his. “You wanted me, but you wouldn’t say so, couldn’t say so. But we can do it now. We can do it for hours…” She lifted her leg, brushing her thigh against him.
He reached for her waist.
“Yes,” she purred. “Like that.”
His hands clamped solidly on her hips, and he pushed her away, gasping at the effort it cost him. He swallowed back salty bile as her power curled around them.
Her eyes flashed. “We have to do this,” she hissed. “In nine hours there will be a hundred men down here looking for you. You are weak, starving, and broken. You’ll never make it out of here without my help.”
Brophy shook his head. “Not like this. Never like this.”
“You think you could stop me?” she said, gliding a light hand across her breast. “I could make you crawl if I wanted, dear Brophy. I could make you love me for it.”
He fought the tendrils of magic slithering into his mind. His thoughts became fuzzy, his manhood throbbed against his pants. With a growl he lashed out and slapped her across the face.
Wet hair flipped across her cheek with the force of the blow. She stumbled backward a few steps and steadied herself against the table. Slowly, she looked back at him. A snarl curled her lip, and she laughed. “You’re such a child, Brophy. You always were. You never could face the truth. If you don’t make your enemies crawl, they’ll do it to you.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes piercing. He stared back at her. “I don’t believe that, Shara, and neither do you.”
She pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. The oily tendrils of her magic receded.
“What’s happened to you?” Brophy asked, “Your eyes are filled with so much pain, so much…malice.”
“Pain?” she scoffed. “I’m not the weak girl you once knew. Not anymore. Do you have any idea how powerful I can make you?”
“I liked that girl. She was my best friend.”
Shara’s smooth, even breathing faltered. Her brow wrinkled as she grimaced and swallowed painfully.
He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here, Shara. I’ve longed to see you for days. I’ve dreamed about you. But I can’t see you like this. What you’re trying to do to me is terribly terribly wrong. Can’t you feel it? That oily twisting in your gut? Please, don’t do this…”
He tried to draw her into a hug, but she pushed him away. “Do you have any idea what I went through to get here?” she hissed, baring her teeth.
His heart thundered painfully. He was so tired. He couldn’t think straight. He reached for her again, trying to hold her. “Just stop. Please stop.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Dammit, Brophy!” she yelled, shoving him back so hard he stumbled into the wall. “Don’t you understand! Krellis has seized Ohndarien! With his damned heartstone, I can’t stop him! Everything is out of control!” Her breath was ragged, her eyes wide with terror. She grabbed him by the arms, shaking him violently.
“Ohndarien needs you! Baelandra needs you! It’s getting worse and worse and worse!” she screamed. “And I can’t stop it! I can’t stop it! I need you! I need you, Brophy, before it’s too late!”
She fell to her knees at his feet and started crying. He slumped down next to her, cradled her head against his chest.
“It was…He was…” She couldn’t speak through the sobs.
“It’s all right. It’s all right. Just breathe,” Brophy muttered. “Just breathe. It’s going to be all right.”
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “So sorry. You have no idea what I’ve done. He’s still in me, in my blood, in my heart, in my bones. I can’t get him out. I can’t get him out.”
Brophy clung to her.
“I can barely remember who I was before V
icteris,” she whispered. Her breaths came in little pants. “The magic rages inside me like a hunger. I want more, Brophy. I want to hurt them all, hurt them as badly as I can.”
“Yes…” Brophy said, “I know.”
“How could you? How could you know? You loved Trent when another man would have cut his head off. You loved me, and I was just a…” she trailed off.
“A pig butcher’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. She finally wilted into his arms, letting him bear her full weight. “I’m so lost. I’m afraid I’ll never find my way back again.”
“Yes, you can. I know you. I know you can.”
“Oh Brophy,” she sobbed. “How can you still believe in me? How can you still care?”
“Come here,” he said. He led her to one of the cots and they lay down together like two crescent moons. He wrapped his arms around her, and she held his hands. Her skin was covered with scrapes and scratches that he hadn’t seen because of the dye on her skin.
Brophy pressed his cheek against her bare back. Her skin was cold, and he held her tight to keep her warm.
After a long moment, she slowly wiggled around in his embrace. “I have something for you,” she whispered.
Shara reached back and untied a silver chain from her hair. She pulled the necklace free and held it up to Brophy. A diamond pendant filled with swirling rainbow colors hung from the chain.
“A heartstone?” He reached out and took it in his hand. “Where did you get it?”
“It was a gift,” she said. “I lost it once, but Baelandra found it. I…I didn’t want it back at the time, but she made me promise to give it to you when I found you.” She smiled weakly. “And I found you.”
Brophy took the chain and slid it over her head. “Why don’t you hang on to it for a little while longer?”
Shara pressed the stone against her chest. The ever-changing colors shone through her fingers.
Brophy buried his face in her neck. “I’ve always loved you, Shara,” he said. “Before I even liked you, I think I loved you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I always knew.” She moved back, looking deeply into his eyes. Her gaze did not hold the tortured pain of before, but rather an exquisite sadness. Slowly, softly, she kissed him.
