by Casey Odell
He rushed her suddenly, snatched the blade from her hands and threw it across the bed. He grabbed her left wrist and twisted her around, pinned her hand to her back and pulled up, sending a shock of pain throughout her body.
She gasped sharply, her body frozen in his grip. He ran a hand through her loose hair and grabbed a handful to yank her head back.
“Miss Claire, I wanted to play nice, but you force me to this.” He dragged her out to the center of the room in front of the fireplace.
The guards stepped forward. Bren released her and shoved her toward them. They took a hold of her arms, one on each side, their grip tight and strong. Their faces looked forward, showing no emotion, not wanting to get too involved.
Bren brushed his shirt smooth and took a deep breath. “Why don’t we start off easy?” He smiled, and her heart fluttered but for a different reason. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are? I know you’re no lady.”
And here she thought she’d done a good job at playing her part. It was time to tell the truth, although she had imagined a different situation in her head.
“My name is Claire Tanith and I come from Stockton, a small town just north of Lendon. One night we were attacked by centaurs and I was able to escape. That’s when the elves found me.” She was proud of her ability to keep her voice even.
“And what exactly do the elves want with you?”
“I don’t know.” That was mostly true.
Bren stepped forward and brushed his fingers along her swollen cheek. “Miss Claire, I don’t really think you’re in the position to withhold information.”
“I don’t have any more information to give, General.” She jerked her face away from his hand.
“You mean to tell me you just agreed to go with a couple of strange elves, without knowing what they want from you?”
“They said they’d help me find my mother. Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice.” She tried to take a step toward him, but the guard’s hands clamped down tight on her shoulders. “And what about you, General? Why did you agree to come along? What exactly do you plan to do with me?”
“Miss Claire, I’m sure even you suspected that I was sent by His Highness to keep an eye on you and your companions. No one had seen an elf in Lendon in years. That could look suspicious all on its own, don’t you agree?”
Claire remained silent. She knew he wasn’t really asking her or would care what her answer would be.
“At first I just planned to capture you and use you as a hostage. But those elves proved to be more adept at fighting than I thought.”
Her eyes widened. “The thieves?”
“They were just a convenient coincidence.” He stepped forward again, his body nearly brushing hers. “However, I did manage to catch a glimpse of a rather curious…” he paused to eye her right arm, “…thing.”
So he had seen it after all. But then, who were those thieves really working for?
Bren was a good enough actor to have even the elves fooled, it seemed. Although they still had their suspicions, the elves could have never known that he’d been up to all of this, could they? If they did, she’d been kept in the dark once again. Was she really so untrustworthy?
“How does it work, Claire?” His voice went cold again.
“I’m not really sure myself.”
“Do not lie to me!” He gripped her throat suddenly with his hand and brought her face up to meet his.
“I don’t know.” She looked back at him, defiance in her eyes. It was true that she didn’t really know how the thing worked, and even less what it was. “All I know is that it seems to react when I’m in danger.”
“Then how come it didn’t work at the tournament?”
Claire’s stomach fell even further. “You were the one responsible for the little mix-up after all?”
“Well, I figured if it showed up with the thieves, it could work with that man.” His grip tightened on her throat and his voice lowered. “Why didn’t it work, Claire?”
“Maybe because I thought you would come and save me.” Her boldness faltered and her voice grew soft. “Did you ever really care for me, Bren?”
The hard expression receded from his face as he smiled warmly. “Miss Claire, you really are a sweet girl.” He pressed his lips against hers in a harsh manner; a sharp contrast to the sweet kisses he’d given her in the past. “That’s why I hate to do this.”
He released her and marched over to the table underneath the window, grabbed it and dragged it out to the middle of the room. He motioned to the guards with a raised hand to bring her.
Claire’s pulse began to speed up. What was he planning now? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t tea time. She never knew a small delicate table could feel so ominous.
The guard on her right grabbed her by the wrist and slammed her hand down on the tabletop, then crossed to the other side to get a better hold. His face remained blank as he looked away.
Panic struck her and she started to struggle but the guard on her left held on strong. Bren had come around behind her to grab another fistful of hair and yanked her head back. He leaned over her, his body pressed up against hers as it pinned her down against the table.
“Miss Claire.” He leaned in close to her ear, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “You really are too trusting. Surely you had your suspicions about me?”
It was true. She did at first, but didn’t think it could ever lead to something like this. “Why did you bring me here?”
“That’s simple, Claire. I knew your Elvin friends would want to get rid of me after your little show at the tournament. So, I contacted an old ally, made a deal, and here we are.” His hand appeared before her, holding a thin knife; the polished blade gleamed in the light.
Her breath stopped as she watched the blade draw closer to her right hand. She tried to jerk her wrist from the guard’s grip, but he held on tight with both hands, locking her arm in place.
“Miss Claire, I’d watch out for those two if I were you. Especially the one with the silver hair. He seems a little dangerous, don’t you think?” He pressed the blade against her skin lightly.
“And you turned out to be a bag full of sunshine yourself.” Bren tightened his grip in her hair.
“Do you really think those elves’ intentions are in our best interest?” His voice grew in intensity as he pressed his mouth against her ear. “The world is better off without magic, Claire. Humans finally control the land while those pathetic elves hide themselves away and plot for the day they can reclaim their throne.” The blade pierced her skin, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. “You’re a traitor, Claire. I don’t know what kind of magic you possess, but I can’t have you running around with this… thing.”
He started to drag the blade up her hand slowly and Claire screamed at the intense pain. Her breath became ragged as tears streamed down her cheeks. She struggled, thrashing against their hold again to try to escape, but she was pinned and unable to move, left to watch as the blade carved up her arm to leave a trail of blood and agony in its wake.
“Those elves are bound to come for you.” His voice returned to its usual calm. “Let me ask you Claire, do you think they’ll still want you after you’ve been damaged?” The blade crept past her wrist. “Curious, how come it isn’t glowing now? Could it be that you still have feelings for me, Miss Claire?”
She didn’t answer him. Maybe she did still have feelings for him. Even now, it was hard to tell. His charming visage was still fresh in her mind. Foolishly, she kept thinking that this was all some sort of dream. That she would wake from it any moment. That he would snap out of it and return to the Bren she’d first met. But it wasn’t and he wouldn’t. The pain in her heart and on her body was real, and he was the one responsible for it. Outwardly, she hated him, but inside her mind was still a whirl of confusion.
The blade stopped halfway up her forearm, just after the mark. Blood streamed from the fresh wound and dripped down onto the tabl
e. Claire’s body was frozen in shock, her whole body filled with fire and hate. She had trusted this man and he’d betrayed her. Bren raised himself off of her. His hand released her hair and her head sunk forward.
The guards released her and she collapsed in a pile on the cold stone floor. She rested her right arm in her lap, the blood seeped onto her pants. She kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at the man that had done such an awful thing.
“I believe my work is done here.” Bren’s voice rang clear and calm through the room.
She heard footsteps and the door opening. Her back to the door, she refused to turn around until after they’d gone. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Defeated and ashamed.
“Miss Claire, please don’t hate me.” His words held an edge of sadness, but she knew that was a lie. “I only did what is necessary. As part of our agreement, you are now in Lord Byron’s possession. He is free to do what he wants with you. He seemed to be interested in that thing on your arm,” he paused, “but I think he’ll understand, as I hope you do.”
His steps faded as he left the room and the door slammed shut behind him, followed by the soft click of the lock.
A fine tremble started throughout her body and soon her shoulders were racked with sobs. Unable to stop it, she let go and gave in. The stinging of the open wound on her arm grew overwhelming, spreading up her arm and through her body. She raised herself to her feet while gripping the table with her left hand. With slow steps, she made her way to the bed and grabbed the long black scarf she’d taken off the night before. She sat on the bed, wincing at every movement, and started to wrap the scarf around her right arm. If only she had the elves healing salve.
With the wrapping complete, she lay back on the bed, curled her knees up to her chest, and cradled her bandaged arm. The scarf would have to do for now. What would happen next? Would the elves come for her? If they did, they’d hardly be happy with her. Maybe Farron was right. Perhaps they weren’t the worst people to get their hands on her. Lord Byron didn’t seem too promising either. She just hoped whatever he had planned for her wasn’t worse than what Bren had done to her. Although, she knew that wasn’t true.
26
The heavy wooden door to the room burst open and slammed back against the wall with a loud bang followed by the sound of footsteps. Claire’s eyes snapped open as she was jerked out of her deep sleep. She’d dreamt that she was with her mother again and they had set up shop in Rodem. Her mother’s tavern could be as big a draw as the tournament in such a city; at least, it was in her dream, anyway.
The two guards from before entered into the room; their heavy leather armor creaking and moaning as they moved. The room was dark, the sky outside even more so. A fire burned in the fireplace. She must have been out cold to not have noticed someone entering and starting a fire, but at least they hadn’t done anything else to her. She glanced down at herself just to make sure. Everything still seemed to be intact. Blood had soaked through the black scarf, gluing the material to her skin. That was not going to be pleasant to take off.
She sat up on the bed, eyeing the guards, when her new favorite person entered.
“I thought you’d have left by now.” Claire glared at Bren as he strolled into the room.
He gave a pleasant smile and stopped at the foot of the bed.
“Have you come to torture me some more?” She cradled her right arm close to her chest. What more could he do to her? She already told him everything she knew. Or at least everything he’d wanted. Somehow, she knew that telling her life story wouldn’t gain her any sympathy.
“Lord Byron insisted that I stay.” He ignored her question. “Said that I didn’t want to miss the surprise. He became very excited when I told him how your powers…bloomed.” He spread his fingers wide in the air in front of him.
Claire’s nerves stood on edge again. She didn’t like where this was heading already.
“I’m not sure what Lord Byron has in store for you, but for your sake, you’d better hope that thing still works.” His eyes shifted down to her injured arm before he spun on his heel and exited.
The guards approached her and she stood up from the bed in a calm manner. There was no use trying to fight them. She’d just waste her energy, not to mention add to the growing list of injuries she already had. It was a new record for sure. Every muscle and joint in her body ached as she moved, and the throbbing in her right arm grew more intense the longer she was awake.
They walked quietly down the dim hallway and down the stairs, through the main hall to the back of the building and out the back door. Dread grew inside of her. Somehow, she knew she wasn’t going to like the surprise. Lord Byron didn’t seem like the flowers and sweets type.
A dirt path led straight back from the manor into the forest. Torches along the trail lit the way. If she were to escape, the time would be now-- if it weren’t for the dozens of guards patrolling the grounds.
Two guards flanked her while Bren led the way. He seemed to be in a rather sour mood, with arms crossed. Perhaps he didn’t like surprises either.
The path opened up into a clear area. A large hill loomed up before them with a doorway carved into the middle of it. Bren entered the black hole and stepped down as if he’d walked the steps a dozen times before. Claire slowed her pace and took each step one at a time, the pain on her left side started to scream out, ignored until now.
A landing lit with torches shined like a beacon at the bottom of the stairs to guide them further into the darkness. The stairs were crudely carved into the stone, the rock above and around them held up with timber beams. The air grew cooler as they descended and she could almost feel the surrounding earth pressing in on them.
Claire tensed when she saw the bright light at the end of the tunnel. She tried to prepare herself mentally for whatever the surprise was, but that was easier said than done.
The growing sense of unease turned to a feeling of awe as the tunnel opened up into an immense room lit with torches and mirrors. A high wall circled halfway around the room with a bench atop it. The guards pushed her forward while Bren climbed up the stairs to the top of the wall to join Lord Byron and two older men she didn’t recognize. They all watched her with eager eyes. A large square doorway stood on the opposite wall, the light from the room fading in the gaping darkness.
Her stomach twisted into a hard knot as she stared into that darkness. She glanced around the room again. It looked like it had been there for centuries. With the seats and the walls encircling a wide dirt floor, it almost seemed like she was in some sort of arena.
One of the guards pushed her hard from behind and she stumbled face-first onto the hard floor, knocking the breath out of her. She heard a clinking sound next to her and she looked over. One of the guards had tossed a sword onto the ground.
“You’ll probably need that more than I do.” His voice was low and grim.
How very gallant of him. She was about to ask him for what, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
The other guard knelt down next to her and grabbed her bandaged right arm. His own youthful face was set in hard concentration on his task; his jaw clenched tight, his eyes avoiding her. Claire gasped, making small sounds of protest, as he slowly peeled the cloth away from her skin. The dried blood lifted off with the scarf, opening the cut again. Fresh air stung at the wound as blood started to drip down her arm and on to the floor to mix with the dirt.
Claire leaned her forehead on her left arm and took deep breaths to help ease the pain. She could hear the shuffling footsteps of the guards as they retreated to the entrance of the room. And then, silence.
Her breath and the steady increase of her pulse filled her ears. For seconds, minutes, she wasn’t sure how long exactly. They were waiting for something, and she bet that it was the surprise.
A deafening roar suddenly filled the room, reverberating off the stone and through her body. Every muscle in her body tensed. Slowly, she lifted her head off her arm to l
ook at the doorway in front of her. The size was too great for humans and had been carved with something else in mind. And what that was didn’t sound all too pleasant. A low hum of a growl drifted from the blackness, growing louder as it approached the arena.
With a new spurt of energy, Claire rose up on her left arm and pushed herself to her knees. Her hand went to her belt to grab for her dagger but the familiar hilt was gone. She’d forgotten to pick it back up after Bren had thrown it away the day before. She glanced at the blade the guard had left for her and crawled over to it. Her right hand almost useless, she grabbed it with her left and struggled to her feet.
She tried to hold it up in front of her, but the weight of a full sword felt foreign to her. It was a lot heavier than her dagger and her left hand had never been the dominate one. Lack of rest and food had taken its toll on her body and she could feel her strength waning. It would have been easier if she were to just give up and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Unfortunately, her will to live overrode that thought-- and even greater, her desire for revenge.
The low growl grew louder, drawing her attention back to the dark doorway. The creature finally stepped into view and a cold sweat slithered down her body. A large almost feline head emerged from the dark shadows. Blood red eyes scanned the room as it sniffed the air. The massive beast’s shoulders were almost twice her height. Black fur covered its back and legs and grey scales covered its stomach and chest. Claire took a step back as the beast stepped further into the arena. Big spines ran down its back and long tail, blending into the dark fur. She watched the beast carefully as it meandered along the far wall, moving fluidly and surprisingly quiet for a creature its size.
The creature’s eyes finally settled on her and its pupils grew wide as it discovered the source of the blood. It found its target. A shudder ran through the beast, then its muscles tensed as it prepared to pounce.
Claire started to back up slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements and glanced around her. The guards still stood at the door, struggling to remain brave as sweat ran down the sides of their faces. If she made a run for the door, there was a possibility that they’d join her in her escape. But that possibility looked slim and with the Lord’s unwavering gaze fixed upon her, she wouldn’t get very far. She glanced at Bren standing next to Lord Byron and he turned his gaze away from her. Did he feel regret now? It was a little too late for that.
