When they finally reached the city below, the warriors were taken along a separate path and Melisande allowed herself her only tear then, for in her own, twisted way she cared for them all. Stoic and proud now they walked away, eerily calm and without so much as a second glance back at her. But she was not surprised. They were dark and they were dangerous, but they were also honorable in their own way and resigned to accept the punishment for their crimes.
Melisande, on the other hand, had finally had enough. In one swift motion she cried out to the heavens and uttered a powerful incantation, causing the people around to suddenly cry out and recoil in fear as a loud peal of thunder shook the sky. She called upon the elements to obey and the clouds began to grow dark and angry as she threw back her head and started to laugh. Come for her, would they? After all she had given them, all her years of honorable service only to have them hurl obscenities at her?
As the gathered crowd watched in horror the sun began to grow dark and the mountain began to rumble and swell. The earth buckled and several lost their footing, and just as Melisande was about to turn and run for the harbor she felt rough hands grab her by the hair and yank her backwards. Before she could think or respond hands wrapped themselves around her neck and – despite her clawing and biting – held fast and tight until darkness at last overtook her.
She awoke to emptiness, and wondered for a moment if she were already dead. But then her eyes focused and she saw where she was – deep within the earth, buried alive with only one small torch and 2 days of food and water. The tomb was small and unimpressive, a small, 8x8 room of walled dirt that pressed in around her and made it hard for her to breathe. She closed her eyes and reached out to the earth, reciting a centuries old spell in an effort to part a path to the world outside, but the earth simply laid hard and packed before her, unresponsive. She frowned and tried again, unaccustomed to failure, but was once again disappointed when nothing happened.
“You should rest,” Hippolyte’s voice echoed within the small chamber. “You’ll need your strength for our wedding night.”
“Let me out!” she screamed angrily into the emptiness.
“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said with what sounded like genuine regret. As he spoke, the earth around her suddenly shifted and shook and she cried out as she tried to steady herself. “You see, I’m afraid that my wedding gift to you is what requires you be kept tucked safely away until your father arrives to give us his blessing.”
“I hate you!” she screamed louder, her voice uncommonly shrill and tinged with hysteria.
“I care not whether you love or hate me, as long as you spread those beautiful legs when told and let me lose myself inside of you as the mood strikes me.” His voice was smug and annoying, and she made a rude gesture, knowing he saw. She was not disappointed when she heard him laugh in response. “Such a lady,” he cooed deceptively. “or perhaps whore is a better word?”
“I will never go with you,” She said flatly as she slid down along the wall to plop unceremoniously onto the cold hard ground.
“I think perhaps you will change your mind when your meet your father. Given a choice of being his lover or mine, I’ve no doubt you’ll come eagerly to my bed.”
And then he was gone. She felt his sudden lack of presence like a gaping wound, and for the first time suddenly found herself wanting to cry. Why was this happening to her? What had she done so wrong that the fates had granted her a life such as this? She had been happy and content with her memories of a mother and nanny who adored her, only to find that they had lied about who she was, who her father was! She had wanted little more in the way of companionship than to spend all her nights under the stars with Athos, content in their friendship, only to have him abandon her when his manhood had suddenly starting growing hard and hungry each time Drucilla had walked by. And even as a priestess had she not done as she’d been told, abstaining from laying with men, and at the same time serving as both counsel and spiritual advisor to any and all who came to her?
Around her the earth continued to rumble and complain, and in the semi-darkness of her tomb, Melisande began to weep until sleep came to mercifully claim her for a time
“She is even more beautiful in the flesh,” a voice rasped, and as Melisande swam back towards awareness she felt fingers slither slowly across her face, frozen tentacles that repulsed as they swirled along her skin. She struggled to open her eyes, feeling as if a great weight were pressing in upon her chest.
“Indeed.” Hippolyte – already she knew the sound and smell of him, and she wanted to scream when she felt herself respond to his presence, relieved to know he was here and that she was not alone with this creature whose fingers even now continued to dance along her flesh with greed. “She is awake.”
“My daughter, open your eyes that we may finally look upon one another.” His voice was foul and unpleasant, and the sound of it made her head ache.
“Do not be afraid, little dove,” Hippolyte encouraged. “You are still my betrothed, and he is honor bound to allow you with to come with me. Of course, should you decide you prefer his touch to mine –“ He allowed his voice to trail off and her eyes flew open at once.
“How dare you –“ she started, only to stop in mid sentence when what she had to presume was Gothelius finally came into focus. Almost immediately she felt her stomach recoil at his stench, a smell not unlike the rotting corpses of the dead. His skin seemed to hang from him in a gelatinous ooze of limp flesh. His eyes were yellow and watery, overshadow by a protruding brow, and he had no nose. His lips were thin, pasty and white, his teeth jagged and yellow with great gaps in between, and when he moved closed she felt his twisted, deformed arousal press into her. She opened her mouth to scream, but much to her horror no sound would emerge.
“Look, she is overcome with joy at this little family reunion, and is speechless!” Hippolyte said with a laugh as he went to slap Gothelius good naturedly on the back. Melisande actually had to fight back a smile in spite of her fear when Hippolyte’s hand slid through the slimy layer of Gothelius’ skin and came back covered in a foul smelling sludge. The look on his face was priceless, and for just a brief second she forgot that she had awoken to find herself in hell. Hippolyte tried with poor success to hide his disgust as he wiped his hand along the side of his breeches. “So, my friend – what say we move along with this formality. That is, if my bride is willing?” He turned and reached down to offer his hand to Melisande.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, one delicately arched eyebrow raised in defiance as she looked at his hand.
“Then you will come home with me,” Gothelius rasped, pushing himself between Melisande and Hippolyte to kneel beside her.
“And what would be so bad about that?”
Gothelius’s smile was thin and sickly, and he moved in close until their lips were almost touching. His breath was rank and Melisande would have backed away, had she not been pressed firmly against the wall.
“Absolutely nothing,” he wheezed. “You will rule with me and stand beside me over all those who come to find themselves sentenced to serve in atonement for their sins.”
“As your daughter?” Her voice quivered with doubt as his eyes slid with open hunger over her face.
“You are so like your mother,” he breathed, and she tried to turn away. “You will rule as my wife, of course!” He pressed pasty lips against hers and she felt his forked tongue as it slithered in between her lips. She struggled and fought against him as his taste invaded her mouth.
Around them the earth rumbled and Gothelius pulled quickly back.
“I’d say she’s made her choice,” Hippolyte said as he noted the look of absolute revulsion on Melisande’s face. He took her hand and pulled her up beside him. “Now – I believe we had an agreement?” Gothelius scowled, but did not argue. Instead, he leaned forward and placed a kiss upon Hippolyte’s brow, uttered words that Melisande could not understand but that were clearly ritualistic in nature, and then in
an explosion of brilliant light was gone.
Above her, the dirt ceiling began to splinter as another wave of shaking rattled her teeth. She squealed and reached out for Hippolyte to keep from falling. He pulled her closed and gave a smug laugh as he rubbed his raging hard on against her soft flesh. She froze and stared up at him with comprehension – all those years she had wanted to know the feel of a man, and she suddenly began to feel very afraid.
“The first time will be difficult,” he said huskily, his desire thick in his voice. “But soon you will move past the pain and find pleasure. I will see to it.” Her knees suddenly felt week, her mouth dry, her very center hot with need, and she wanted to scream.
“What is it that shakes the earth?” she asked weakly as she clung to him, and she heard the smile in his voice.
“Why, it is my wedding gift to you. Look.” He waved his hand and the earth above became suddenly translucent. She stared, wide eyed, as the scene above played out before her with alarming clarity. The mountain that the city sat nestled up against had exploded, its top split and broken and spewing forth rivers of molten lava. As the citizens ran frantically into the streets, the skies overhead grew black as night and glowing rocks of super-heated metal and ore rained down from above, knocking many to the ground as they ran.
“Vesuvius,” Melisande whispered. “You’ve awoken Vesuvius!”
“Indeed I have. And let me just say that he is NOT overly pleasant when he is disturbed.”
Melisande watched the chaos, suddenly finding herself grateful to be entombed, glad to be shielded from the destruction that was happening in the world outside. Served them all right, she thought bitterly, delighted each time she saw another fall. Her thoughts were petulant and child-like but she did not care – she wanted them to suffer. She wanted them to die.
“Do you approve?” he asked wickedly. She turned to look up at him, her mouth curving into a smile of invitation.
“Take me home, my Lord,” she whispered solicitously as she ran one finger slowly down his massive chest. Before she could change her mind (as if she could at that point) Hippolyte gathered her to him and held her tight, and she felt the air being forced from her lungs as he covered her mouth with his and darkness claimed her once more.
The Mad-Hatter had taken a bride, and the wheels of prophesy began to turn.
~7~
Rhynea moaned weakly as she slowly came awake, her head fuzzy and her thoughts unclear as she struggled to sit up.
“No, you must not try to sit up too quickly,” a soft, feminine voice said gently as she was pushed back down.
“Where am I?” Rhynea asked as she sank back into the softness of the bed, her words thick and slightly slurred.
“You are in the castle and care of our Lord, Prince Jasper.” She felt a cool hand press lightly against her forehead. “That foul troll gave you too much serum, if you try to move too quickly you’ll be ill.” Her voice was laced with bitterness as she spoke and Rhynea could tell that this one had no love for Melisande’s pet. As the ringing in her ears began to subside and her thoughts to recover, she felt her chest grow tight. She remembered now where she was, and with that clarity came a fresh wave of despair so that she began to cry softly.
“Please, do not cry,” the woman said, her voice filled with concern. “We are not so cruel as the outside world would have you believe. Our only sin here is that we are as much a prisoner as you are, and must obey Hippolyte and Melisande in all things lest we invite their wrath. They can cause much pain and discomfort, those two, so it is better for us all if we simply do as we are told.” As she spoke she rubbed Rhynea’s arms gently in an effort to warm her and Rhynea found some small comfort in this gesture.
“What is to happen to me?” Rhynea sniffed as she opened her eyes. She was stunned to be greeted by a much more feminized version of the larger, more beast like male Satyrs. “You are a Satyr,” she said, and could not hide her astonishment. The woman’s nose twitched as she smiled, her almond shaped eyes crinkling as she smiled. She was actually quite striking, Rhynea thought, in spite of the small, rounded horns that peeked out from between the thick, soft curls of her hair tawny colored hair.
“Well, you can at least tell male from female, so you are off to a very good start!” she said with a laugh, and Rhynea smiled in spite of her growing unease at what lay ahead. “Once I am satisfied that you are no longer at risk of becoming ill from the serum, you will be taken to be bathed and oiled. You will be given a special wine that will help to relax you, and after a quiet dinner in your honor, our Prince will make a great ceremony of carrying you away to his bedding chamber.”
Rhynea swallowed hard.
“So I am to be concubine to a prince, at least,” she said in a weak attempt at a joke.
“Indeed – an honor, for Prince Jasper is very handsome, and, from what I hear, quite skilled in the art of pleasing a female.” She slipped her arm around Rhynea’s shoulder and began to slowly ease her into a sitting position. “How is that?” she asked, watching her warily for any signs of discomfort. Rhynea placed a hand against her forehead until a brief nag of dizziness passed, then smiled.
“Better, thank you. The ringing in my ears has finally stopped.”
“Good. No doubt you were putting up such a fight that Melisande’s foul little creature could not control you and was forced to drug you. Unfortunately, the simple-minded fool has no head for measurements and whenever he must sedate someone he always gives far too much.”
“He is awful,” Rhynea said with a shudder. She hated him, hated the memory of his clammy hands on her skin.
“You’ll get no argument from me. I’m Lestophales, by the way. Bond-mate to Kanaleth who serves in the Prince’s personal guard. If you would permit me, I would be honored to act as your escort during your stay here.”
“You mean I will not have to stay by the Prince’s side and – “ Rhynea let her voice trail off, her meaning clear. Lestophales laughed softly and placed a gentle hand on Rhynea’s shoulder.
“Even our Prince Jasper is not so virile that he will wish to couple around the clock. You will be permitted to eat, sleep, bathe and – if you wish – interact with those who live here. Our only requirement is that you must serve in the manner that Melisande decreed and I will warn you now that – pleasant or no – we will abide by that which is commanded for the safety and well-being of all who live here. It is simply that Prince Jasper is not so heartless as many would think, and commands us to do all we can to help ease any trauma or discomfort, either mental or physical.”
Lestophales stood and Rhynea was momentarily stunned into silence to realize she wore only a thin cotton sarong around her hips, the length of which stopped well above her knees. In compliment to her exotic face, Lestophales’ form was pleasing and sensual, with small, round breasts and dark brown nipples that only accentuate the deep honey-toned complexion of her skin. Her legs were long and well toned, quite human until Rhynea got to her feet and noticed they were not feet at all, but cloven hoofs that appeared deceptively like stilettos until one truly inspected. She stood quite a bit taller than Rhynea and for a moment Rhynea thought she might be ill – if their females were so very tall, how much taller and larger still would their men be??
“Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes, yes I believe so,” Rhynea answered weakly. She wanted to say no, wanted to shout and cry and curl into herself in the hopes that this was all a bad dream, but to do so would only prolong the inevitable.
“Then come, let’s walk for a bit in the gardens and let you have some fresh air before I take you to the bathing pools.”
“You will stay with me? Even when I am to be bathed and oiled?” Rhynea asked, clinging to Lestophales like a frightened child. This woman had been kind and gentle to her so far, but who was to say others would be so compassionate?
“But of course. I will remain by your side until the Prince takes you to his bedding chambers. Then, I will sleep down the hall in a sma
ller room with my own bond-mate, should you need to go anywhere at all, day or night.” She bent down slightly so that she could hold Rhynea’s eyes with her own. “It is very important that you not go out alone. The cliffs are dangerous and deceptive, and you could easily walk off the edge of one before you ever even realize you’ve left solid earth. Do you understand?” Lestophales’ face was suddenly quite stern, her eyes dark and unyielding as she pressed the importance of her words.
“Yes, of course,” Rhynea said with a nervous laugh, “but honestly, what manner of thing could hurt me now, for already I’ve died and gone to hell.”
Lestophales studied her for a moment before she spoke, her voice low and frighteningly calm.
“There are worst things still than hell, Rhynea, and they live in the broken crags of the forests below. Even Melisande at her most vile of moments would be a welcomed Mistress should you ever find yourself taken by the Morg.”
“The Morg?” Rhynea asked. Lestophales eyes held hers a moment longer, and Rhynea could see a distant pain there that made her own heart ache just a bit.
“Come, we should hurry,” she said quietly at last. “There is little daylight left and I would show you the splendor of our gardens before dinner, that you might see there is beauty to be seen, even in so dismal a place as this.”
Jasper watched from his balcony as Lestophales walked out into the gardens with their new arrival, glad to see the young woman was finally awake and walking. He hated when they were brought to him drugged, preferred they be lucid from the beginning so that the intake process he had implemented could be of comfort and help in orienting the poor lads and lasses when they first arrived. But this one had recovered quickly, it seemed, for she walked with little help from Lestophales, and even at this distance he could see that her face was flush with color and her eyes clear and focused.
The Gathering Storm Page 4
