by Adam Watson
Volantis saw movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly turned his head towards the source. It was Sarna, she was still bound, but her head had quickly whipped around. This movement intrigued Volantis; he smiled on the inside - it meant something. What it meant, he did not know, but she had given herself away.
He looked at her carefully, she had become serene once more. It was odd, why would she have reacted like that? A quick turning of the head may not have seemed like much, but to Volantis it was significant, especially when he considered the fact that she hadn't so much as battered an eyelid the entire time Ingrid was being tortured. No, the brunette meant something to her, he wasn't sure what and so he plunged his knife deep into the other shoulder; this time keeping a close eye on Sarna's reaction.
Once again Selina screamed as if a fiery hell had engulfed her body, and just as Volantis had suspected, Sarna reacted; her eyes opened wide as if she had just been slapped across the face. Volantis stared deep into Sarna’s eyes with a gaze so intense he could almost see into her soul and studied her reactions.
"What does she mean to you?" he asked, pushing the knife in further. Sarna shook her head slightly as if to say 'She doesn't mean anything.' Volantis grinned baring his broken teeth. The evil, maggoty smile unnerved all those who he looked upon. Sarna wasn’t looking so serene anymore, and now Volantis knew he was on the right track. “What does she mean to you?” Again, Sarna shook her head. Volantis pulled the knife out and grabbed Sarna by the hair, pulling her face closer to him. He placed the blade against her throat; Selina cried and sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
“Do you think this is a game?” he shouted, Sarna slowly shook her head from side to side. “Do you think you can win this game?” Again, Sarna shook her head from side to side. “You can’t win Sarna, you’re not strong like Ingrid was.” Volantis turned his gaze towards Selina. She was a puzzle, but somehow, she was the key to this. He needed to figure it out and fast, he needed to apply the pressure whilst Sarna was still ready to break. But why was she so ready to break? Blood dripped from the shoulder wounds. Selina is the key.
“Who is she to you? Your apprentice? Your student?” Even when tears welled up in Sarna’s eyes, it still wasn’t enough to loosen her lips. Volantis let go of Sarna and moved back to Selina. Justina and Becca looked on paralysed with fear - they knew very well that this could be their last day on Mya.
Volantis held the great dagger before him, aiming it at Selina; the weapon was made of bronze, the handle intricately carved into the shape of a wolf’s head with eyes made from stones of onyx.
"Do you want to hear her screams, Sarna? Do you think she has truly felt pain yet? I will show you what real pain is if you don't tell me what I want to know." Sarna cast her eyes down, the tears were flowing freely now. Volantis knew that he had somehow beaten her, he knew she would talk, but was still unsure why. Sarna moved her mouth, but no sound would come out. She needs more convincing. He plunged the knife into the right side of Selina's stomach. She cried out again, not as loud this time; weakness was taking its toll.
Sarna closed her eyes tight as if the blade had pierced her instead, she could no longer bear to watch.
"No," she whispered, in a barely audible gasp. Volantis pushed the blade in deeper making Selina writhe and cry out in pain.
"I can't hear you. You need to speak loudly and clearly if you want me to understand your cursed language."
"No more ... please." Was Sarna pleading? Was one of the great Tempurian witches actually pleading with him? She was broken. Sarna took a deep breath, it seemed that she had come to some kind of resolution in her mind. "I'll ... I'll talk." The young acolytes looked at her with a mixture of surprise and horror, but neither of them said a word to stop her. What would they have done in her place?
"How do you know her? Who is she to you?" Sarna's mouth moved, she wanted to tell him, but she just couldn't get the words out.
"She's ..." SO CLOSE! SO CLOSE!
“Is she your friend? Do you work with her? Did you live with her in that cursed temple of yours?” Sarna closed her eyes and put her head down, she couldn’t face him any longer - nor the other people in the room.
“She’s my …”
“Is she related to you? Is she your daught …” The word trailed out of his mouth and all of a sudden realisation came down upon him. That was it, that was the key to everything. The image he had wrenched from Ingrid’s dying soul flashed into his mind as if someone had just switched on the sun. The child in the field, Selina; they were one and the same. The face was older, but the eyes were the same. Sarna was the mother in the image, the mother of the child, the mother of Selina. He couldn't believe that the child was right there in the room with him.
A Tempurian witch may have the will to withstand the most heinous of tortures, but did a mother have the will to watch her daughter being tortured to death? Judging from her reactions so far, Volantis found it highly doubtful.
"She’s your daughter, isn't she?" Sarna ever so slowly nodded her head, she could barely admit it. Justina looked away, knowing that Sarna would betray the Oracle. She understood why, but she didn’t want to hear it. Becca was of the same mind frame. "Do you want your daughter to live or do you want her to die?"
"We're all dead anyway," she whispered. Volantis knew that it was true and there was no use denying it, so he leant in and whispered in Sarna’s ear.
"Death comes quick to some, but others are not so lucky. To those unfortunate few it can mean a lot of suffering and a lot of pain. When the pain is too great, they will beg for death." Sarna nodded, she knew what that meant.
"Then kill her quick, I don't want her to suffer."
"If you tell me how to unlock the bonds that bind Eefest, there will be no suffering. Don't tell me what I want to know, and there will be an eternity of suffering for your daughter, and Sarna … I will make sure that you are there to witness it. That I promise you.” Sarna had no doubts that Volantis would keep that promise.
“None of us can unlock the azure bonds, only the Oracle can do that.” Volantis turned and looked at his general. Vuko Vlad was standing against the wall, listening from a distance. His arms were folded, he looked to be deep in thought. He looked back into Volantis’s eyes and simply nodded.
“Then what use to us are you, Witch? Why should we give you a swift death?”
“Because I can tell you how to find her.” Volantis turned to his General again. This time he was smiling, and his eyes blazed like fire.
***
Sarna revealed to them everything. How to use the location ritual to find the Oracle, the fact that they would need to keep the young acolytes alive as only someone of the Tempurian Order had the power to perform the ritual, and how they would also need a leash of binding to force the acolyte to do their bidding. It came out of her like a torrent, a cascade of words and information. She knew she was betraying her order, but she also knew the Oracle was more powerful than any Drakhar; Solus Bal was shut down, whilst Tempus remained active.
They might be able to track her down, but they’d never catch her, she had faith in that belief. She prayed to Tempus that he would protect the Oracle and was sure that he would. She had to believe that because the only alternative was to watch her daughter slowly being tortured to death before her very eyes – it was a prospect she couldn’t bear. Even so, it shamed her that it had come to this; that when the order needed her most, she would be the one to let them down.
When she had finished, Volantis assured her that she had done the right thing. He turned around but for a moment to check on Selina and when he turned back - Sarna was dead. He had desperately tried to revive her; blowing into her mouth and pounding on her chest, but it was no use. It was over, she was gone, the lights in her eyes extinguished. It seemed impossible for there was not a mark on her, but there it was - cold death … nothing short of a trip to the Shadowlands could bring her back.
The futileness of his efforts sent him into a rage. H
e lashed out on Selina, stabbing her repeatedly, then slashing her throat. No, he hadn’t wanted them dead yet. He had wanted to make sure that Sarna was telling the truth and if she wasn't, then she'd still be there to persuade. All he had now was hope, the hope that she had told the truth - if she had lied, then they were surely lost.
Volantis laughed, what a situation he was in. The General would be most displeased if he failed to free Eefest, and so too would Solus Bal. The thought sent a shiver straight down his spine, for the wrath of the gods could be most unkind. He looked at Selina, bloody and cut. In the end, Sarna had gotten her wish - they had both died quickly. Volantis laughed to himself again. Touche' Sarna, Touche'. He even gave her dead body a little clap – he now had a real mess to deal with.
***
A week later Vuko stood naked in his bedroom, having just removed his armour. He stared into the mirror with great intensity, contemplating his life and how all the years had inevitably led up to this moment. His muscles bulged and rippled from the many years of training; his skin was a dark-grey slate. His body looked carved from rock, but also battered and scarred from the many years of battle.
The large scar, the one that marred his left pectoral, also had a matching scar on his back. A sword had run right through him in a duel to the death against one of his former clan leaders. It had taken him two years to get over that wounding, and to this day he still considered himself lucky to be alive - the clan leader he duelled with was not so fortunate.
He thought back to the happenings of the last week, it appeared that Sarna had indeed told them the truth. This made Vuko very happy, he was closer than ever to removing those cursed azure bonds that bound his brother tight. It also turned out that the young acolytes weren't as strong-willed as their elders. They both learnt the ritual of location and were now eager to please after witnessing what had happened to the others. Their eagerness to please wouldn’t be enough though; he needed a mage, one that he could trust. One that had enough power to control a leash of binding, and could help him retrieve the blue Oracle discretely.
Vuko threw his cuirass onto the small cushioned lounge behind him, where his manservant would retrieve it at a later time. It felt good to get the armour off, it had been a long day, and both body and mind were feeling weary. In the next room, a hot bath awaited him - it was a nightly ritual, and Vuko found it an excellent way to unwind.
He could see the handmaidens walking through the room behind him, tending his armour, getting his clothes ready and generally making sure that everything was tidy and in its place. Sometimes he envied them, they lived relatively simple lives, far away from danger and there was little expectation of them except to do their house duties. Sometimes he felt like he was never alone. I should have been a cobbler, he thought. Who would bother me then? Only anyone who needed a shoe - he was beginning to see why working the land was so appealing for some. It’s the fucking peace.
Still, there was no use standing there feeling sorry for himself and wondering what could have been in another life. There were riches around him, he should be enjoying that.
He took a look at the room, it was luxurious, that much was certain. It was still a work in progress, but he had to admit that the twisted and their handlers had done an excellent and swift job in transforming Castle Candelier from a realm of the humans back into an abode fit for the Drakhar.
A lot of human history had been lost during that transformation. The burning of great tapestries, books and ornate furniture had provided the Drakhar with a great bonfire, and although they were not fond of bright light, the way that the fire had lit up the sky had every Drakhar in sight revelling and rejoicing.
Vuko grinned his sweet, sardonic smile, letting it cut across his face like a black wound - he would wipe out every trace of their existence if he could, and who would miss their destructive ways? No-one that he cared for.
Even with all that gone, the room was still luxurious and ornately decorated, with its vaulted ceiling and dark, intricately carved cornices - there was no denying that it was a still place of wealth and high culture.
In the middle of the room were two huge spiralled columns. There were bookshelves and exhibition shelves. The tapestries of the humans had been torn down and replaced with great artworks of the Drakhar. There were numerous chairs and lounges, but his favourite thing in the whole room was his bed.
A huge, carved and ornate structure. Highly detailed, it was carved out of the blackest of wood. It too, like the room, was domed and took a form similar to that of a chapel, but it wasn't the architecture, the workmanship or even the value of the bed that made him like it so much.
Only in the middle of the night, when the humans and Drakhar slept. Only after all the servants had finished their duties and had left, and only when he could finally put the day’s events to rest and crawl into bed - only then, for a few short hours, could he truly find peace, quietness and rest.
He made his way into the next room where the handmaidens were getting his hot bath ready. The water had oils mixed into it to promote healing and wellbeing. He noticed that he always felt more relaxed and slept better when those oils were mixed in, and since the taking of the castle it had become an almost nightly ritual. The handmaiden called Tasia helped him into the bath.
Once he entered the water, the other handmaidens left, leaving only him and Tasia in the room. He closed his eyes and let her pour the oiled water over his head. Maybe there is more than one place in the world to relax. She rubbed the oil into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. The length and breadth of a male Drakhar’s horns were considered to be a sign of strength and prowess, and with large horns usually came a larger physical stature.
Leaders were often significantly larger than other males, who in turn were larger than their female counterparts. Most Drakhar accepted this hierarchy as a sign of Solus Bal’s will, but Vuko knew it took more than big horns and a large stature to lead the Drakhar. Still, it didn’t hurt to have them looking in pristine condition - especially where the ladies were concerned.
Tasia poured more warm water over his head, washing the oils out of his hair. She slowly worked her way down from his head and was soon giving his huge, muscled shoulders a massage. He sighed, it was pure ecstasy that he could feel so relaxed. All the thinking about war and defence, finding the Oracle and unlocking the azure bonds had him in a state of chaos - it made him happy that she could clear his mind so.
She had been his handmaiden for over thirty years. It was a short time in the lifespan of a Drakhar, but it was a long time to get to know each other. She had grown to know him so well that she almost knew what he wanted before he wanted it. She was quiet now, as she always was. She knew he liked to relax; she wouldn’t speak until he spoke to her first.
She knew he didn’t like her touching his scar and reminding him of how close to death he came, but she also knew that he would start to talk if she did. His emotions were like a balancing act and over the years, she had become the master.
"You know I don’t like you touching that," he stated. She pulled away for a second, startled by his voice, then immediately went back to rubbing his chest.
"I like it," she said, running her finger over the scar. "It shows that you are strong and powerful."
"It shows that I am weak and was nearly killed," he answered curtly, she just smiled at him.
"Yes, you almost died, but you were too strong. You live now, a testament to your power and living proof that they couldn't kill you." Vuko smiled, he knew what Tasia was doing, she was trying to make him feel better and even though he knew that, somehow, she always did. She was special that way, she was one of the few people that could.
Vuko could see her in the mirror, leaning over him from behind. She had smooth, light-grey skin, long, snow-white hair tied back into a waist long plait, eyes that burned with a pinkish light, and the cutest little horns he had ever seen. Yes, she was beautiful, although he wouldn't say that to his peers - not of a servant girl, for tha
t would be most distasteful. No-one had to know his thoughts though, and in his eyes, she was most beautiful.
"You should join me in here Tasia, the water is very warm." Tasia peered into the tub.
"Are you sure there's enough room for both of us in there." Vuko laughed, they both knew that there was, as they had both been in it together many times. Tasia always liked to turn these conversations into a game, taking them to imaginary places in her mind. Vuko liked it too, it allowed him to escape - even if it was just for a few minutes or hours.
"I think so," he answered. "Maybe you should just come in, that way we'll both know for sure."
"I don’t know if I should get into this bath with you, you could be dangerous." Vuko raised his arms in the air, feigning indignation.
"Dangerous? Me? But I'm so gentle … like a kitten." That statement made Tasia snort, and her eyebrow raised to its maximum height of questioning expression. "Well, I'm gentle when I'm with you." Much closer to the truth, but still a statement he could never say to anyone else.
"I think you are dangerous. You look like such a brute." Vuko laughed again, he could hardly argue with that, but he gave it his best shot.
"Me? A brute? That's very unfair Tasia. Don’t you know you should never judge a book by its cover?" Tasia smiled and moved around the tub to face Vuko.
"What’s all this then?" She pointed at the scars that ran across his forearms. "You've been fighting again, haven’t you?"
"W-What? These? These old scars? I got them long ago when I was a child … and I wasn't fighting." They both knew that was a lie on both accounts, but Tasia played along.
"Oh really, and how did you get them then?" Vuko looked up into her eyes. The light from them bathed her face in a pinkish hue … oh yes, she was beautiful, wasn’t she?
"I, er ... fell into a creek whilst … ah, chasing my brother." That made Tasia laugh out loud.
