by Adam Watson
"Very impressive, my dear." Volantis had slowly clapped his misshapen hands. "How you are able to access the power of Tempus despite being shielded from the source is an intriguing mystery." The old lady looked and smiled at Volantis.
"A mystery indeed," she had answered. Vuko had no doubt in his mind that Volantis knew the answer. Had he allowed her access, but only to a particular part of the source? Had he allowed her to kill him? Who cares? He shrugged his shoulders and moved on. He got what he deserved.
"A mystery I shall have to endeavour to unravel." The white Drakhar hobbled his way over to the old woman and leant down. "Unless you want to share your secrets … it could save you a lot of pain."
"When I was young, my mother taught my sisters and I that you should always return a favour Master Volantis." At the time, Vuko had wondered what the old woman had meant, it was a strange thing to say, especially in that kind of situation. Volantis was not someone you could actually negotiate with, but somehow, she had. Vuko knew she had helped Volantis by killing his apprentice, but what favour could she possibly hope to get from him in return. Volantis had simply nodded his head and smiled, whilst Vuko looked on - somehow, Volantis had known what she wanted.
The second day consisted of heavy torture of both body and spirit. Volantis was determined to break Ingrid; he delved into her mind. She could not break him like she had the apprentice, she could barely hold on to her own mind, but hold on she did.
Volantis had tried again and again. She refused to give him anything and even as her limbs dislocated from their sockets she had remained stone-faced and silent. She had vexed him but impressed him also. He had tortured thousands of souls, and yet this fragile old lady was proving to be harder to break than the strongest of battle-hardened soldiers; this continued throughout the night and well into the next day.
Then something happened, the likes of which Vuko had never seen before - Volantis went into a rage. Volantis, the stone-cold torturer, the one who rarely showed any emotion beyond a wry smile, completely lost control, throwing and breaking everything in the room.
Vuko had watched on, disturbed by what he saw. If it had been anyone else he would have stormed in there and put an end to it, but this was Volantis, and there were many reasons why he couldn't do that - psychic obliteration was one, he had seen that happen before. There weren't many things in the world that Vuko feared, but the total destruction of his mind was one of them, and Volantis was powerful enough to do just that. The destruction to his body seemed to have enhanced his mind power a hundredfold; the Drakhar were lucky that he was one of them.
Twenty minutes later the room lay in ruins, most of the debris that now lay broken and strewn across the floor was Volantis's own equipment. Volantis himself looked drained both physically and mentally. He was covered in sweat and panted heavily, the exertion of breaking her will without killing her was taking its toll. He had never encountered this level of resistance before; he had never thought it was possible. Mocking laughter echoed in his mind, he looked over to the battered woman who was softly laughing to herself.
Vuko watched on in shock. This is madness. It was known that these witches of Tempus were torture-resistant, but what this haggard old woman was enduring went beyond all reason. Vuko wondered if he himself could endure it and the very thought that he might not be able to had shocked him. How could someone so old and frail possibly be stronger than him? The thought made him feel sick to the stomach, but he now had a great amount of respect for this weathered old battle-axe.
The cold, dead blackness of Volantis’s eyes began to manifest itself in his demeanour once more; calmness and stillness reigned. Untamed emotion was replaced by a passionless void, any signs of the rage that destroyed the room had been extinguished - only the scattered remnants of broken equipment remained as testimony that the event had ever taken place.
Volantis slowly hobbled to the table upon which Ingrid lay, his right leg dragged along behind him; a dead weight and a hindrance. Dread filled the room, his pupils grew, filling his eyes with darkness; fear emanated throughout, bringing with it an unnamed terror.
"Your mind is strong Ingrid," he rasped, his breath warm and humid on her face. "Much stronger than anyone could have imagined." Ingrid continued to laugh softly and in delirium.
Vuko wondered if her mind was still in the conscious realm, he couldn’t be sure, not a hundred percent, but if her mind had descended into madness, who could blame her. Does she even know what he's saying anymore? Her actions said no, but the look on her face, the victory in her eyes, left him in doubt. The laughing echoed throughout the room. ‘AHHH, HA, HA, HA, HA!!!’
“Ingrid, Ingrid come back to me,” whispered Volantis. The laughing stopped, she lay there still, looking up into the eyes of her assailant; a slight mocking smile upon her face.
Vuko knew she was in much pain, she had to be; one look at her disjointed limbs was enough to tell him that, but she showed them nothing - he admired and respected her for that.
The misshapen husk lifted his maggoty white arm; the fingers of his right hand mutated and fused together, giving the appearance of a lobster’s claw. He clamped his hand tight around her throat. “Look into my eyes and tell me what I need to know.”
General Vuko Vlad didn’t think that Volantis’s eyes could get any blacker, but he was wrong. The eyes became two deep wells of voided darkness; twisting and churning, spiralling into a vortex that led straight into the abyss.
All colour, all light seemed to be sucked from the very air around them; a static charge filled the room, and Vuko could even feel the hairs on his spine stand on end. He didn’t like it one bit, it was way too volatile; it felt like the room could explode at any second.
He wanted to get out, to escape from this madness. He wanted to run out of the room like a scared little youngling ready to wet himself, but he made himself stand strong, and against all his fears he stayed in the room; silently praying to Solus Bal that Volantis could keep control.
Volantis could feel the power flowing through him and into the mind of the old hag. Anyone else would have been screaming or begging for mercy as their minds plummeted through the seven planes of madness, but not this old hargraven. No, she made him want to scream, she made him want to cry, she made him want to explode into a rage and tear her apart; he could feel his hand tightening around her neck.
“TELL ME!” he screamed, and slammed her head against the table. “TELL ME YOU STUPID BITCH!!” His hand was getting tighter, but he had to keep control; she had the key to their god, and he couldn’t endanger that. If she died, there would be no answers. “DAMN YOU!” he snarled. “DAMN YOU!!”
“VOLANTIS! KEEP CONTROL!” Volantis turned his misshapen and melted head in the direction of his General; his eyes were pits of darkness, his gaze was melted madness - the look on his face could have brought death into the room. The General stood firm and pointed his finger for emphasis. “Don’t … you … dare!”
Volantis knew what that meant ‘Don’t you dare kill her and lose the only chance of resurrecting our god,’ but he also knew that it was the only way; her mind was too strong and her will, too powerful. He could break her body, but not her resolve. He didn’t understand how she could resist him, but she did. She had the answers, but he couldn’t unlock them.
Volantis smiled, a discreet secret smile, one that never touched his face, but one he could see in his mind’s eye. He was one of the most powerful Drakhar that had ever lived and until this day no-one had resisted his mental powers. This old lady was making a fool of him, but deep down inside his mind, he could accept that because no-one knew what he knew. They had all placed their trust in him because there was no greater authority, and this hideous old crone would die whether he broke her mind or not - he owed her that much.
Blood began to trickle as Volantis’s nails dug into her skin, he looked into her eyes and almost gasped - there was victory there. Her mouth was open, smiling and mocking him still. Curse you, you witch! And ev
en as he slammed her frail old body onto the table once more, he could hear her laughter echoing in his mind - maddening laughter.
He slammed her down again and again, but no matter how hard he tried, the laughter just wouldn't stop.
"SHUT UP!" he shouted, clamping his hand and shutting off the air to her body. “SHUT … UP!” The limp, frail body of the Tempurian Priestess started to convulse and shudder wildly.
"VOLANTIS!" cried Vuko rushing in. "YOU'LL KILL HER!" He threw his arm around the neck of the white Drakhar in a desperate bid to pull him off of her. Volantis simply closed his eyes, and suddenly the General found himself flying backwards and slamming into the wall. Masonry crumbled as Vuko fell to the floor completely winded. "Don't!" he cried, in a barely audible gasp. He pulled himself back to his feet and charged again. He knew it was madness, he knew it was futile, but he did it anyway; there was too much at stake for him not to try. He smashed into the wall again, this time harder; darkness descended like a veil over his mind, and he fought desperately to stop himself from slipping into unconsciousness.
Ingrid's body thrashed and flailed as the last remnants of her life were extinguished from the world, and then, at last … she was still. Volantis released his terrible grip. There was peace now, and quietness - Ingrid's broken body could finally rest.
Vuko looked on, shocked to the core. He wanted to explode into a fury, but his brain was unable to fathom what he had just seen. Every emotion inside of him was telling him to destroy Volantis where he stood, to rid him from the world; to wipe the tainted stain his very existence brought to it - he began to shake and seethe with rage.
His cheek twitched and spasmed, his mouth opened up into a bare-toothed snarl; his eyes were clenched so tight it seemed like they were the only things keeping him from detonation. He couldn't believe what he had witnessed. Had Volantis just killed off their only chance to resurrect his brother? He would die if he had, that much he knew. Not now … not today … but one day.
"You killed her." The words came out wrenched from his soul; if it had been anyone else, anyone else at all, they would have found themselves lying in a pool of their own blood, but not Volantis, no, he was just too powerful and too valuable to kill right now. Not today … but one day. Volantis simply looked at him and nodded.
"It had to be done. She was too strong, her mind too powerful; she was never going to break." Vuko could hardly believe what he was hearing. How could Volantis be so submissive of his failure?
"Too strong? Too powerful? For the mighty Volantis?" Volantis had never failed before, to hear him utter these words was perhaps more shocking than anything else he had witnessed.
"Somehow she had access to Tempus. All the proper shielding was in place, it should have been impossible, but somehow she did." The General’s eyes glowed like beacons in the night as he contemplated the truth of the words. Did Volantis really think he was that gullible? He could do nothing about it right now, at least nothing that wouldn’t end with one of them dead - and so he played along.
"I'm sure she did," he answered, in a tone that suggested anything but surety. Volantis knew that the General didn't believe him, but he left it at that; sure in the knowledge that any further discussion might force him to reveal things he did not want to reveal.
“All is not lost though,” Volantis continued. “It was only in the final moment, and I mean that final moment before death. That split second where there is no defence, the moment when the consciousness flits between worlds, it was only then that I could wrest one final image from her mind.” Vuko paced the room, his eyes burned red, his patience was running out. Not today Volantis, but one day. He took a deep breath and calmed himself, until his brother was free, he still had need of this maggoty husk.
“Please Volantis, share with me what you have seen.”
"I saw a young woman ... a woman with a child, playing in a field." Vuko walked the short distance between the two until he was standing right in front of the interrogator. If Volantis felt any intimidation, he didn't show it, and if Vuko had the power to do so at that moment, he would have wiped Volantis from existence.
"And what else did you see?"
"That was all I saw." The General’s mouth curled into an angry sneer.
"A woman? With a child? PLAYING IN A FIELD?" he roared. "You destroyed everything for this revelation?!" Volantis knew the General was being sarcastic, but he also knew the image held the key.
"All is not lost General." Vuko Vlad stared into the eyes of Volantis. It was a dangerous thing to do; he could lose his mind staring into those fetid pits, but rage was building up inside of him - it made him impatient and reckless. He wanted to gouge those eyes out, to rip them from their sockets, to make him bleed and writhe in pain. Instead, stone-faced and cold-hearted he continued the conversation as normal.
"Please continue." One day Volantis, I'm going rip your fucking head off. "I'm dying to know what other exciting revelations you have for me."
"I know who the woman is.”
"Who?"
"It’s Sarna, she’s much older now than she was in the image, but there is no denying it."
"The other old hag?"
"Yes."
"What does it mean?"
"Leverage ... if we can find the child."
"How can we find it? A child no longer and it could be anywhere." Volantis closed his eyes and conjured the image into his mind; it was crystal clear and as bright as day. He could see every detail, every fibre. He focused on the faces. Yes, the woman’s was definitely that of Sarna, there could be no denying it. The face in the image was younger, fewer lines and less sagginess than the witch he had incarcerated in the next room, but it was definitely her. And what of the child? And the field? Did they have a meaning? He knew the answer was staring him in the face, but right now no clues would reveal.
“Let’s talk to Sarna.” His maggoty face twisted as he smiled, Vuko nodded his agreement. Volantis knew he could break Sarna, there was no doubt about it; her will was nowhere near as strong as Ingrid’s.
He was adamant. She would reveal to him everything, and he wasn’t going to let her die like he did with Ingrid. No, she was not going to get off that lightly – by the time he finished with her, she was going to know what real pain was.
***
On the third day, they prepared to face Sarna; who truly was their last hope. Getting hold of more Tempurian witches would take time, time they didn’t have. They needed to free his brother. He was their priest, their conduit to their god, and ultimately the power of the Drakhar.
The Drakhar held Castle Candelier and the city securely for the time being. The human army was decimated, and their guards were scattered, but Vuko knew humans - they would not stand for this. It was only a matter of time before they regathered their forces and tried to take back what they had lost. The Drakhar needed to be ready, they needed their god and soon - time was already running out.
They entered the holding room where Sarna and the three younglings were being held. Sometime during the night when he had been dreaming of the reclaimed glory of the Drakhar, Vuko had lost his murderous feelings towards Volantis. Lost or suppressed them maybe, either way, he was feeling much more positive about getting some answers than he was the previous day.
Volantis entered the room with undeterred determination. He was smiling and looked almost jovial, but his eyes never blinked; there was an intensity in those simmering cauldrons.
The General and the interrogator had both agreed that this time the younglings would witness the wrath and power that a full interrogation could conjure. They would strike fear into all of them, from this point forward they were fodder to be used as leverage on Sarna.
Vuko took no pleasure knowing that these girls lives would be sacrificed for the greater good of the Drakhar race, but they were human. How many Drakhar have the humans slaughtered for the ‘greater good’ of their race? More than three he imagined. Maybe they would see sense and it wouldn’t come to that, but o
n the other hand, if it did come to that - there would be no hesitation.
Sarna was seated on the left side of the room, her demeanour as always was calm and serene. Her hands, like the others girls in the room, were bound behind her back. She looked comfortable and dignified, more like a noble than a prisoner. To her right and bound in the same way, was the first of the younglings.
This one had long, brown hair, and her name was Selina; she wasn’t the prettiest of the three, but Vuko thought there was something vaguely familiar about her, although he couldn’t quite pinpoint what.
The short-haired blonde’s name was Justina. She was the quietest of the three; quite pretty, but her gaze was always towards the floor. Vuko could almost smell the fear emanating off that one. No, they were not so cocky now that Ingrid was dead. They knew that if the Creed were willing to kill her, their leader, then they would be willing to kill every one of them to get what they wanted; hopefully, this fear would loosen Sarna’s lips.
Finally, to the very right of the room was the youngest of the younglings; the little, dark-haired scamp. A young beauty in the eyes of most humans, but she was a ghost of a child in his eyes. She was the most defiant of the three and Vuko liked her for that, but was it defiance or just naivety at play here - only time would tell. Her name was Becca.
Volantis walked into the room, his leg dragging behind him. He too examined each of the younglings in turn; looking for any sign of weakness that he could exploit. He needed to send a message to Sarna that they were serious and would not tolerate any forms of resistance. The short-haired blonde would not meet his gaze, and dark-haired one seemed to be looking straight through him; he knew she was trying to show him no fear, but her glazed stare betrayed her.
The long-haired brunette though, it seemed that she had found her backbone today. She was practically leering at him, challenging him somehow … to do something. He pulled out his great knife and plunged it deep into her shoulder; she screamed as though the Seven Hells themselves had opened up.
