“My name is Mira. What’s your name?” asks a young girl.
The girl’s tattered skirt and tight shirt, which both show signs of once being elegant clothes, are nothing more than soot-covered rags. Her red hair is tangled and kept out of her eyes by a dirty, blue ribbon. Sari can see small cuts on the girl’s bare stomach and two circular scars on each of her wrists. She looks down to see that Mira has nothing on her feet, but mud, calluses, and dried blood. Even though the appearance and smell of the girl does very little to ease Sari’s nerves, she lets Mira pull her into a tender hug. A few tears and convulsive heaves of her chest are all that Sari has left in her before her heart breaks.
“Don’t worry. Everybody panics and cries during their first day,” Mira soothingly says while she gently strokes Sari’s hair.
“Where am I?” the gypsy timidly asks.
“The dungeon of a necrocaster named Kalam. He’s a vampire,” Mira answers in a low voice. “I guess I don’t have to tell you what that means.”
Sari shudders slightly as she pushes herself away from Mira. The gypsy’s legs shake as she stands and wanders over to the bars. She reaches out to gingerly touch the polished metal, but quickly pulls her hand away as if she is shocked. Sari can barely hear the rustling of cloth on concrete from the darkness. She is about to call out to the noise when a guttural growl cuts through the shadows. Quivering legs take Sari away from the bars before she collapses to her knees.
Mira shakes her head in surprise. “Wow. You are taking this pretty badly. I would offer you some water, but what I have isn’t clean.”
“Do we ever get water? What about food? Are we the only prisoners? Why am I here?” Sari whimpers, her body starting to convulse again.
“Well, you are a bundle of questions,” the woman declares in wonder. “Then again, I was put in an empty cell when I arrived a week ago, so I have had to learn by experience. I guess you’re a lucky one.” Mira smiles in a feeble attempt to be cheery and Sari forces herself to smile back.
“Thank you. My name is Sari. I’m sorry that I’m being so nosey,” she apologizes.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re scared and in a necrocaster’s dungeon. I’m surprised you are able to speak,” Mira admits, her voice full of sincerity. “Are you okay, Sari? Your body keeps shaking. Are you cold?” She grabs a dirty blanket from a concrete slab and drapes it over the gypsy’s shoulders.
“I’m not cold,” Sari mutters through her sniffling. She pulls the blanket around her to be polite. “I just don’t take too well to captivity. It hurts being locked away after only knowing the freedom of the road. I don’t know how long I will last in a dungeon.”
Sari is about to wipe her runny nose with an edge of the blanket, but the sour smell from the cloth makes her eyes water. Mira moves to grab her when she violently shakes the blanket off and scrambles to a corner. The horrendous heaving and retching noises that erupt from Sari causes unintelligible murmurs to awaken from the other cells. A lumbering form on four legs wanders over to the cell to investigate the strange sounds. The beast’s six eyes send an eerie, crimson glow into the cell until it snorts in Sari’s direction and wanders back to the dungeon entrance.
“You must be a gypsy. The clothes should have been a giveaway,” Mira mentions. She takes Sari by the shoulders and leads her to the concrete bed.
“My clan was in the Darkmill region when we made camp by a river. I had too much to drink one night and fell in. Next thing I know, I got washed across the Darkmill and Serab border,” Sari says, the fake story flowing out of her mouth with ease. “I’ve been lost for a few days now. I passed out on the road and then I woke up here. I’m hungry.”
“Let me clean you up and then I’ll answer your questions,” Mira promises. She tears a piece of her skirt off and holds it under a leak in the ceiling. Once the cloth is moist, she gently wipes the grime from Sari’s face.
“You’re too kind to a stranger,” the gypsy whispers.
“I feel sorry for anyone who ends up here,” the girl admits with a sigh. “Time seems to flow slowly in here while we wait for the end. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I have hopes of escaping some day. I’m pretty sure that this is where I will die. So, I will live out the last of my days being kind and helping those who find themselves in this nightmare. Maybe my kindness to you will give you hope that you will escape one day. I probably sound like a fool.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool. It’s very nice,” Sari claims, her hand gently touching Mira’s wrist. “What did you do before you were brought here?”
“Prostitute,” Mira bluntly states.
“Oh . . . was it a fun job?”
“What?”
“Did you enjoy your job as a prostitute?”
“There were some customers who I enjoyed more than others,” Mira answers with a small smile. “Still, it isn’t a glamorous job unless you get accepted into a brothel where you get medical accessories and a personal room.”
“I believe you should only do what you enjoy. Maybe you can join a brothel when we get out of here,” Sari suggests, a fire beginning to grow in her heart.
Mira stares at her dumbfounded. “I already stated that I don’t expect to leave here alive.”
“I thought you were just being dramatic,” Sari says sadly. She lies down on the concrete slab, which feels rough and cold. After a few seconds of shifting into various positions, Sari gives up and goes back to sitting.
“You are a very strange girl, Sari,” the woman laughs.
“For some reason, a lot of people tell me that,” Sari mentions, scratching her head. “Now, about my questions?”
“We get a cup of fresh drinking water every morning and every evening. In the morning, we are given a thick stew that is designed to keep our blood thick and nutritious,” explains the redhead, a hungry longing appearing in her eyes. “Any other food that you get will be given to you by Kalam if he is in a generous mood. For example, I was given half a steak two days ago for doing a good job cleaning the kitchen.” Her stomach roars when she thinks about the steak.
Sari clears her throat to interrupt. “Why does he want our blood thick and nutritious?”
“He’s a vampire, so getting bitten is part of our job,” Mira casually states, rubbing at the scars on her wrists.
“I don’t want to be a vampire!” Sari loudly cries.
“He won’t turn you into a vampire,” says Mira with a calming smile. “I was scared that he would try it too. When I requested that he not turn me, Kalam explained that he can only turn somebody who wishes to turn. That’s because he is an old world vampire and was turned himself. He doesn’t have fang-made or womb-born children like a dawn fang. Now, I’m just rambling about pointless topics.”
“No. That makes me feel a little bit better,” Sari sniffles.
Mira pats the gypsy on the head before continuing. “Good. Now, where was I? Oh, the rest of your questions. There are about five or six other girls here, but that can change at any moment. Kalam might receive more girls or kill one of us if he is in a bad mood. You will get to meet the other girls in the morning when we are gathered for our daily bath. It wakes you up and cleans you for the day, but you will be covered in grime long before you are returned to your cell. That is unless you are lucky and Kalam decides to keep you in his chambers for the night. I hear there are marble bathes and platters of gourmet food that he bestows upon night companions.”
“You make this sound better than it really is,” Sari mentions, smiling politely until Mira smiles back.
“It could be worse. We get beaten if we screw up and we get fanged whenever Kalam is hungry,” Mira explains, her voice beginning to sound strained. She sighs while she leans against the cold, moist wall. “He treats us like ladies in some ways, but we are really nothing more than slaves. Kalam gives us fresh water, tolerable food, and daily baths out of self-interest. If we are sick or covered in filth then we would be poor meals for him. It still doesn’t mean that he wi
ll go out of his way to keep us alive. If one of us dies from exhaustion or being bitten too much then he throws the body to his pets. We’re really nothing more than slave labor, meals, and occasional entertainment.”
“It sounds pretty bad when you put it like that. So, what will I have to do?” Sari nervously asks.
Mira laughs gently before answering. “Most likely, you will clean the lair throughout the day. Then, you will bare your body if Kalam asks you to. He doesn’t like biting at the neck for some reason. Still, I don’t know what he would desire from a gypsy. The other girls are prostitutes and street urchins, so you’re a different breed.”
“Is that good? Will that help me escape?” she asks, her eyes lighting up.
“I don’t know,” Mira admits with a yawn. “My suggestion is to stay strong for as long as you can. Unlike the rest of us, you have always been a free spirit. It would be a shame for a situation like this to permanently clip your wings.”
“I guess so,” the gypsy sighs.
“It’s getting late and I’m tired,” Mira whispers, her eyes starting to close. “Get some sleep, Sari, and I will see you in the morning.”
“Uh, can I sleep with you?” Sari meekly asks.
“What?” the redhead coughs as she lies down on her concrete slab.
“Only for tonight. I feel so lonely,” the gypsy whimpers.
Mira thinks for a minute, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Sure. It gets cold here at night, so a warm body might not be a bad thing.”
Sari smiles wide as she hops off her concrete slab and walks over to Mira. She is slightly aware of the moist stone against her bare feet when she lies down next to her new friend. Sari curls up against Mira and wrinkles her nose at the strong smell of sweat and dirt. It isn’t long before Mira’s steady breathing makes Sari drowsy. The gypsy sighs wistfully as she closes her eyes and falls into a dreamless slumber.
*****
Sari crashes to the cold, wet ground with a whimpering groan. She groggily gets to her feet before staring around the gloomy cell. She had hoped that her situation was nothing more than a bad dream, but a beetle scrambling up her leg crushes her hopes. Sari screeches and flails madly in a panicked attempt to get the insect out of her skirts. Tiny, prickly legs run up her stomach making her quiver in disgust. Finally, the beetle climbs out of the top of her damp shirt and flutters into the shadows outside of Sari’s cell. The gypsy can’t stop the heaving tears from rolling down her cheeks.
“I ran like you told me to, Cessia,” Sari whispers, sinking to her knees. “I don’t expect you to solve my problems, but I would like a small amount of help. This is too much for me to handle.”
Sari is getting back to her feet when she hears the faint clink of metal falling onto the stone floor. She gets back on her hands and knees in order to feel around for whatever made the noise. Her hands push through slimy clumps of what Sari morbidly assumes was either food or early residents of the cell. A tight feeling in her stomach begins to grow until her left hand grazes a rough, metal object. Sari almost squeals with delight when she wipes away the grime from a dull, silver key.
“Where did this come from?” the gypsy wonders while she slinks over to the bars.
Peering into the shadows, Sari notices the breathing motions of a large form by the stairs to her left. The creature occasionally lets out a mild snort and dog-like whimper, telling the gypsy that it is asleep. Being unarmed, Sari decides not to risk going near the sleeping beast and looks to her right. A gap in the solid wall looks to be her only way out of the dungeon, even though the path will take her deeper into Kalam’s lair. A sudden idea comes to her mind when Sari realizes that she might be able to find her magic boots and a rope if she moves carefully. With those items, she can easily escape through a window or the roof.
“Come to think of it, does this key even open my cell?” Sari mutters, turning the key in her hand.
Taking a deep breath, the gypsy reaches through the bars and slips the key into the polished lock. The echoing click of the opening lock causes the gypsy to jump and violently yank her arm back into the cell. A curious growl emerges from the darkness as the resting guardian beast stirs. It stays in the shadows where only its crimson eyes and an occasional drip of fire from its mouth are clearly visible. Sari holds her breath until the creature lumbers back to a flight of stairs. It lazily collapses on its belly and Sari prays that it will fall asleep.
“I should make sure it stays asleep,” Sari whispers. Her words help her gain enough courage to mutter a delicate spell into her hand. A fine mist of sparkling blue escapes her lips, gathering at her fingertips. A slow flick of her wrist sends the mist weaving through the air toward the shadowy beast.
A few silent seconds pass before Sari settles her nerves and opens the cell door. She is surprised when the door swings open without a sound. A puddle of warm liquid greets her bare feet when she takes her first two steps toward freedom. Sari hikes up her skirts before tip-toeing toward a black hole in the far wall. Without giving herself any time to second guess her actions, the gypsy quietly steps through the hole.
The gypsy is temporarily blinded by the light bouncing off mountains of gems and gold. A sharp pain runs up her side when she clumsily bangs into the sharp corner of a metal table. Sari blinks until she can see clearly and looks down to see a small, bleeding cut on her side from where she bumped into the rough-edged furniture. As she looks around, her attention is immediately drawn to the vast amount of treasure surrounding her. She ignores the bubbling potions, steaming cauldrons, and flickering candles as she wanders across the lab. It isn’t until she is next to a plain rocking chair that the nervous fear returns to her bones. The urge to escape immediately explodes in her mind and she frantically looks around the room.
“Welcome to my home,” says a deep voice from her left.
Sari hurls her body against a table only to feel the rough metal cut into her soft shoulder. A few strands of dark blue hair float to the ground as she weakly pushes herself away from the table. Her face goes deathly pale long before she turns to see Kalam calmly sitting in his rocking chair. The grinning necrocaster has his clawed hands neatly folded in his lap. A sickly, green tongue slithers from between his fangs and runs along his scaly lips.
“You must be Kalam,” Sari meekly coughs.
The vampire nods politely, light glinting off his bared teeth. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear.”
Sari starts to side-step around the table. “Is it really? I would think that a powerful creature, such as you, would be angry about his dungeon being escaped so easily.”
“On the contrary, I had a feeling that this would happen when I noticed that neither Trinity nor myself knew where the key to your cell was,” Kalam admits, hungrily eyeing the gypsy. “I decided that it would be more gentlemanly to wait and see what you would do.”
Sari laughs nervously. “That’s so kind of you.”
“Stop trying to inch away, dear,” Kalam advises her, baring his fangs. “You won’t get very far.”
“You do realize that gypsies don’t last long in captivity, right?” Sari asks, he eyes scanning the area for a weapon. “We are raised on freedom, so being locked up is a slow, suffocating death. Probably best to let me go and save yourself the cleanup.”
“I have servants who would remove your corpse,” states Kalam, condescendingly waving his hand.
“Oh . . .” Sari mutters, smiling awkwardly. “Well, that’s pretty handy for a blood-sucking, dungeon-owning necrocaster.”
“I must admit that you are a very attractive female. I will have to make a serious attempt to keep you alive. Maybe letting you out into the surrounding woods from time to time would help delay your expiration,” Kalam says with a toothy smile. “Of course, I would need to keep you under supervision and have a complex recall spell placed on you.”
“I’m not a pet.”
“Some people would count servants as a type of pet.”
“Are y
ou one of those people?”
“I would like to consider myself beyond such demeaning thoughts, but there are those who earn the title of pet,” the vampire casually admits. His reptilian eyes subtly take in every inch of Sari, allowing him to decide what she can best be used for. “One time I had a female servant who would gnaw at her cage bars like a rabid beast. You don’t even want to know the horrid messes she made when I let her out of the cage. A person like that I would immediately consider an animal, which would imply that they are some kind of pet instead of a true servant.”
“It sounds to me like she went mad,” Sari mentions.
Kalam thoughtfully strokes his beard and slowly nods at the gypsy. “I guess she could have been mad. I was unaware of why her previous owner was so quick to trade such a pretty servant for his own life. I might have to dig up her remains some day and talk to her about her mental state. Then again, I am unaware if her spirit would remember such a thing as mental instability. It could prove quite interesting to investigate if insanity remains after death. I would be thrilled if such a thing could be bottled and used in my experiments. A batch of insane zombies could be utilized as a frightening army. Maybe I could sell the bottled insanity to other necrocasters and make a decent profit. Then again, that might not be a good idea. It is best to keep such findings to myself to ensure that my enemies cannot use them against me. I’d look quite the fool if I were to be taken out by my own invention.”
“That sounds twisted,” Sari declares.
“It always does to those whose eyes remained closed to the world of necrocasting,” Kalam claims with a sigh. “Maybe you will see the glory of my trade in time to save yourself from a permanent death.”
“I doubt that. I like dealing with living people,” Sari argues, slowly backing away from the vampire. “I find the living to be a lot more . . . I can’t really think of a good word, but my point is that I don’t like interacting with the dead.”
“You mean that it is more fun to drink and sleep with the living.”
“Exactly.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 12
