I’ll never be loved.
As the bumpy ride went on Rosealise’s entrenched exhaustion persuaded her to fall into a light doze. She woke suddenly to a popping sound near her ear, and a terrible cursing issued from the driver. She leaned out to see the world gone dark, and terrible bolts of lightning crashing all around them. The horses screamed, and the coach suddenly jerked to one side. Rosealise smashed into the door, which flung open, hurling her out.
She tumbled roughly, heels over head, and felt her bones snapping. Her brow struck something so hard it cracked, and a warm wetness streaked down her face as she came to rest at the bottom of a muddy ditch.
When Rosealise opened her eyes, she stared into the wide, dead gaze of the driver. His body lay not a handspan from hers, crushed beneath part of his coach. The small hole in the front of his brow made it clear he’d been shot.
“Where she be?” a rough voice called out.
“Flattened under that, ye great dolt,” another answered, and both men laughed.
After listening to the assassins depart on horses, Rosealise tried to crawl, but pain made her swoon. The thunder that later roused her boomed so loudly it made her sob with fear. She would drown in this ditch if she did not save herself, but she could not find the strength to move. She feared both of her legs had been broken, and her head hurt so much she almost wished to die.
Is this to be my end? This place, my grave?
Soft lavender light filtered into her blurred vision. A small figure descended from above, its pastel garments flowing like silk hair ribbons in a soft breeze. Rosealise gasped aloud as she saw it was a very small, young boy. He was so perfect in his countenance she felt sure she must be dreaming him. His pink wings fluttered gently as he landed beside her, and knelt down to look into her eyes. His tiny hand felt cold as he touched her face.
“My pet will be pleased. I hope he doesn’t break you too quickly.” He leaned closer. “You do love children. Perhaps we’ll ravage you together.”
Rosealise cowered from his words, as dreadful as his cold, clammy breath. She clumsily tried to roll away, but he held her down, incredibly strong for such a small, sweet boy, and rammed his little fingers into her chest.
* * *
Mael seized Rosealise as they were flung through the burning light, and pressed her against him as it hurled them through an endless span of darkness. His senses became a jumble of confusion, and when he attempted to use his power to regain mastery of them, pain exploded inside his skull.
They landed on cold, hard rock, over which bands of color moved like blood spilled on dark flesh. Rosealise lay on his chest and over them curved the vague, rough dome of a cavern. All around them shards of stone drifted up, slowly rising as if the air had become water. The fragments expanded and shrank before gliding to the nearest rockface, into which they sank and vanished in a small burst of dust.
“Mael,” Rosealise gasped. “I remember my life, all of it. I was a governess. My employer tried to have me killed, and then the Sluath found me.” She pushed herself up from his chest, her eyes wide as she saw the strangeness of the rock. “Is this another trap?”
“No, lass.” He knew this place of the damned, where he had sworn to end himself than ever chance returning. “’Tis where the Sluath made us slaves.”
Chapter Thirty-One
SWALLOWED BY THE utter darkness of the demons’ pit, Mael hung from his chains. Odorous muck surrounded him, but the stink of it no longer made him choke. Hunger gnawed at him, along with the endless burn of his rage, as hot and relentless as if his sire had chained him here. The despair that he would hang until he rotted from his shackles came and went, never permitted to linger long.
Since being made a Sluath slave he’d endured every torment, for Mael knew exactly why he’d been cast into the underworld.
’Tis what I’ve earned. ’Tis where I belong.
He heard a low cry, and the sound of something falling into the filth. A brief shower of light assured him that his tormentors had again returned to toy with him, but looking up blinded his dark-accustomed eyes. Before he could see clearly the light vanished.
The demons so loved their games. He’d been chained here for refusing to kill another captive. Yet if the wee fiend wished to make him fight another again, then he would allow the other slave to kill him. Death seemed a gift now, precious and coveted.
“Show yerself,” he said, shouting the words. It had been so long since he’d spoken his voice rasped as badly as Broden’s.
“I wish I could,” a cool voice said, “but I fear I cannot find a candle to do so.”
They’d thrown a woman in the pit with him. Did Meirneal think to make him end a helpless female?
A slender hand touched his leg. “Would you help me up, please, sir?”
“Aye, lass.”
He grunted as he reached down for her, for his shackles had been locked tight, and the chains binding him to the side of the pit only stretched so far. Just as he thought his shoulders might pop out of their sockets, he grasped her hands, and tugged her to her feet.
As soon as he felt the softness of her skin and breathed in her scent he wondered if she had been sent as some new torment.
“I don’t understand this.” Her breath touched his mouth. “I suffered a dreadful accident, I think, and was badly hurt. Then I woke up here, which I cannot imagine the aftermath of such a thing. Where am I?”
She had been culled, Mael realized, like so many of the other slaves. Since being captured he had listened to many such whispered stories. He didn’t want to tell her that she had been stolen from her time for the amusement of the cruelest beings ever created, but better that she know. Eventually the demons would come for her.
“’Tis the underworld,” he said. “We’re made slaves of the demons here.”
Her hands tightened, and her body shivered. “Why?”
“I cannae tell ye that.” Mael sighed. He knew exactly why he was here, but he couldn’t speak of his own evil to such a lady. “Mayhap ’twill never be revealed to us.”
“You must know something about these demons,” she said.
“Naught ye’ll wish to ken. Brace yerself now, lass,” he said, stroking her back with what he hoped was a reassuring caress. “Demons stole ye from your time. Ye must have seen them. They’ve the visages of gods, and fly through the sky with wings. But they are as evil as nothing ye may imagine. They steal the souls of the helpless and the dying and bring them to this place. Here they torment us and use us for their own amusement.”
“How long have you been down here?” She asked.
“I cannae tell ye.” He wrapped his arms around her, hoping to give her some warmth. Her shivering had died away, and the desperate clutch of her hands no longer felt as tight. “Ye must be brave now.”
* * *
“I never ken a lady with your courage,” Mael said, holding her waist as he helped her up from the hard stone. “I reckon ’tis why you seemed so familiar when you came to me at Dun Chaill.”
“And you to me. Perhaps some part of me never forgot the man who gave me hope in that dreadful pit.” Rosealise steadied herself with her hands on his arms, and looked around them. “This seems to be below ground, like the passage. Could it be that the underworld lies beneath the castle?”
“I dinnae ken.” One of the floating stones puddled onto his arm like dirty water before sliding off and reforming into rock. “Wherever we’ve landed, ’tis enchanted by much magic.”
She turned around. “I don’t see an arch anywhere.”
“Nor I.” He caught her hand as she reached out to the nearest wall. “Permit me. I’m no’ so easy to end.”
“Touching the portal on the other side did make me feel as if I’d been burned,” Rosealise said and touched her arm. As she watched him press his hand against the stone her mouth tightened. “The arch isn’t there.”
“Or ’tis concealed by spell again.” Mael inspected the wall before gazing at the others. “I’ve
no memory of these caves.”
“I know who I am, who I was, but I still don’t recall a great deal about what happened after I was stolen from my time,” she admitted. “How did we move from that disgusting pit to the chamber where they confined us?”
“They took you from me.” He tugged her closer as writhing plants of a virulent orange bloomed from the cave wall. “I thought they meant to put you to torment. ’Tis what drove me mad.”
“Torment.” She frowned. “You mean torture? They tortured us?”
That she couldn’t recall what the demons had inflicted, Mael deemed a blessing.
“Dinnae dwell on what they did, lass.”
Toothy holes appeared in the rock and began to eat the wriggling blooms, which spilled bright blue sap to run like blood down the rough stone.
Rosealise shuddered. “I can well imagine the Sluath calling this their home. It appears as savage and baffling as the demons.” She winced and rubbed her temple.
“What more comes back to you?” he asked.
“I heard the small demon say that you broke free of your chains and climbed from the pit. He was the one called Meirneal.” She went silent for a long moment. “I believe he’d taken me into a tall, narrow chamber filled with other demons. He was boasting of your escape to them, and…collecting on wagers, I think. They began to argue over what he called his winnings. While they were squabbling, I tried to creep away, but his guards caught and beat me.” She regarded him. “What occurred during your escape? Did you find a passage out of here?”
Mael shook his head, and led her past the wall eating itself to another that seemed to be filling with scarlet snow.
“I ran through the tunnels searching for you, and the demons pursued me. When at last they struck me down, they dragged me in chains to where they had Broden.” He wouldn’t describe to her what they had been doing to the trapper, or how glad he had been to see Mael. “They bound me to a post, and gave him a spiked lash to flog me. When he refused, Meirneal threatened to cut both our throats. I bid him do it to save our hides.”
“He had no choice but to whip you.” Her eyes gleamed with new tears. “Oh, Mael. Now I understand why you called it torment.”
“Aye,” he said softly, “but they didnae only punish us.”
* * *
“Lout, Lout,” Meirneal cooed as he skipped into the dismal chamber. “I’ve brought you a surprise.”
Mael’s chains rattled as he lifted his head, and the welts Broden had left on his back begin to bleed anew. The sight of the tiny, pretty fiend made his hands curl into fists, but he knew Meirneal would never come close enough for him to strike. He didn’t bother to stand.
“I want naught from ye, Demon,” he said, turning away.
“Don’t mope about the whipping. Your handsome comrade did such splendid work, and never shed a tear for you. Seabhag was moved to reward him.” The little Sluath capered around him and grinned. “Since your escape brought me that which I greatly desired, you will also benefit.” He snapped his fingers, and two more demons came in, dragging the bedraggled, mud-splattered body of a fair-haired female between them. “Under all that mush she’s very fresh.”
Mael had never seen her, but he recognized the scent that came from her. She smelled as sweet and fresh as she had in the pit.
“You don’t seem very pleased, Lout,” Meirneal said. “Only look at how large she is. A true match for you, don’t you think? Sturdy bones, too. She’s unlikely to break as quickly as the others we time-culled.” He gestured for the demons to bring the female closer. “See how well she took her first punishment?”
Mael felt a terrible pity as they dropped the lady across his legs. She had been badly beaten, her long, mud-caked curls only veiling the cuts and bruises marring her lovely face. Dried blood hemmed the inside curves of her lips, which had split. He looked up at the small demon, and in that moment knew hatred that not even Fargas had inspired in his heart.
“Why did ye beat her?” he demanded.
The demon giggled. “Because, silly, tearing out her throat would have only pleasured me.”
“Take her back from whence ye found her,” Mael said, unable to resist resting his palm on her soft curls. “I’ll do as ye bid.”
“You’ll do that anyway, once I’ve finished with you. Now, you’ll want to scrub off the mud before you amuse yourself with her.” Meirneal moved his hands, and Mael’s cell transformed from an empty box of blood-spattered stone to a beautiful chamber filled with artful furnishings and tables laden with rich foods. A marble fountain bubbled beside a large white tub of steaming water. “Or not, if you prefer your whores earthy. Many of your sort do.”
“She’s no’ mine,” Mael countered.
“Exactly, but I am lending her to you for now.” He bared twin rows of tiny, sharp teeth. “I suggest you use the hottest water. It eliminates the need to scrub, and I do like how rosy pink they turn after a scalding. It makes them feel every bite more keenly.”
Mael glanced down at the heavy chains confining him. “Aye, and how am I to bathe her, then? With my hopes?”
“You have no more hope, Lout. You wouldn’t be here if you did.” The little demon skipped back across the room, pausing on the threshold before he flicked power at Mael, freeing him from his shackles. “Use her as much as you like. Do whatever you wish to her. Pretend she’s me.”
Meirneal’s laughter echoed as soon as the door closed and vanished, and Mael lifted the lass in his arms, intent on carrying her over to the huge bed.
Cool gray eyes peered up at him. “Be advised, sir, that any attempt by you to molest my person will be met with violent resistance.”
It was the same voice he’d heard in the darkness. He stopped and gently lowered her onto her feet, spreading his hands to show her he meant no harm.
“I shallnae force myself on ye, lass. I’m no’ a brute or a demon.”
“I can see that much.” She shook out her long black skirt and then gathered her hair, coiling and tying it into a large knot behind her head. Although she moved carefully, she showed no sign of discomfort. “You were captured by these creatures, as I was?”
“Aye.” She seemed to have no memory of him, and he had no wish to remind her of the pit. “They took us to serve as slaves.”
“Oh, I think not. Slavery is against the law.” She regarded the interior of his cell for some time before she met his gaze. She seemed uncomfortable. “I regret there is no one here to introduce us properly. I am Miss Rosealise Dashlock of London, England.” She extended her hand with the palm to the side.
He’d never met a female with so lengthy a name, but he guessed she wished to clasp hands in a like manner that warriors did with their arms.
“Mael mag Raith.”
As he touched his palm to hers, a sparkling warmth spread over his fingers and moved up into his arm.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Raith.” Her mouth curved slightly. “I do hope we may become good friends as we endeavor to regain our freedom.” She glanced down at her mud-streaked skirt. “First I think I should have a wash.”
* * *
The needling pain in Rosealise’s head eased away as her recollection abruptly ended.
“I wish I could recall more, but my memory remains in shards. I think we should not linger here, either, else the demons find us.” She saw three shadowed openings in the cave walls. “Which tunnel should we follow?”
Mael studied each before nodding toward the center. “That one branches off in many directions we might quickly take to elude the demons.”
She took hold of his hand. “Then shall we push onward, my titan?”
The center tunnel appeared shrouded in darkness from afar, but as they walked to it the outlandish lights and colors moving on the stone walls seemed to accompany them. Rosealise tried not to stare at the bizarre forms they shaped, but some astounded her.
A coach made of severed heads driven by a headless man rushed past her, pulled by four
skeletons of horses. Beside Mael huge gray boars with bloodied tusks marched like soldiers, complete with ancient Roman armor. Over their heads swans fashioned of golden gears and ivory fangs gnashed on each other as they flew from one side of the cave to the other. When one dropped to attack Mael, it flew at his head and then through it, chewing furiously as it hurtled back up to the others.
“’Tis but illusions,” he murmured to her. “Naught can harm us.”
When they stepped into the tunnel, she glanced back to see the entire cave go dark while the bizarre wraiths poured into the walls of the tunnels. “The magic in this place moves with us.”
Mael nodded. “’Tis part of the tormenting, I reckon.” He stopped and peered ahead of them. “We’re close to the center, where they abide. Keep silent from here, lass.”
Rosealise gripped his hand more tightly, and tried to ignore the illusion of glowing purple vultures lunging out of the wall to snap at her face. She was perilously close to swooning with hysterics, which would not do.
The end of the long passage opened into another cavern so large that Rosealise couldn’t see the opposite side. Tall, narrow, sharp-peaked structures unlike any she’d ever seen stretched from the cave floor to the high ceiling. Sluath glyphs covered the toothy buildings, lending them a mottled look. She saw no windows, doors or any manner in which they could be entered.
The air smelled strangely tainted, as if something huge lay rotting in a stagnant pond.
The stone vault above the structures held crude chandeliers of stone thickly encrusted with dull-looking amber crystals. Large spheres that looked the same floated over a giant bridge fashioned from ice or glass. It stretched from the near side of the cavern, arching upward, before disappearing in the distance. Below it two great black circles hovered, connected by a thin stream of clouds that seemed frozen in motion.
Mael: Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 2 Page 16
