The
silence
was almost too much in the monochromatic room. It
certainly
didn't do a damn thing to distract her from the pain--but that in
itself
served to knock her back into the moment, making her remember that she
needed to heal herself and get the hell out of there. Blue fire
burned
the rib forward and back into place, but that sure as hell wasn't
without
it's own pain.
Shadow
took a long moment and a deep breath to look around. Options--she
wanted more of them. At the moment, there didn't seem to be
many.
Sure she could try to stand with bound ankles, but for what
purpose?
Her arms were tied behind her back in a fashion that didn't even allow
the least bit of slack. Was it worth the rope burn and the
healing
to struggle? Well, "worth" was not the right word.
Come
so far just to be brought down so easily. She cursed herself
viciously
under her breath. Maybe they couldn't have done anything
differently,
but--she forced that thought back, chopped at it with an imaginary ax
not
unlike the one she'd just lost. She could not start
thinking
like that. She couldn't let herself fall into that pattern.
Straining her ears to hear anything at all, she sadly came up
short.
Not another being was breathing remotely close to her.
Dammit.
If she'd only known what had happened to the rest of them...
Regardless
of
never having had the experience before, Evyn knew his arm was
broken.
Exactly where, he could not pinpoint--it hurt too fucking much to
think.
His entire consciousness faded into instinctual thrashing, but even
that
was not enough. The pain would not recede, and he soon found
himself
completely unable to thrash any longer. It sure as hell wasn't
from
lack of trying. He found himself almost completely paralyzed by
force,
being carried down the stairs like a piece of furniture. There
was
a sharp turn at the end that he wasn't prepared for, feeling nausea
overwhelm
the pain for a short moment at the sudden motion.
It
felt like he was being carried for miles, each beat of his heart making
his arm hurt, making the seconds tick by like hours. He lost
track
of time, of turns, of distance. With every step, however, he knew
he was in trouble. Major, undeniable trouble. Only when
gravity
suddenly took hold did he know his journey had stopped--and he was
thrown
to a cold, jagged stone floor.
The
jarring made him grit his teeth, forcing himself to hold back any sound
of pain. He tried to pry his eyes open, not certain that he
actually
wanted to see what might be waiting in front of him. His eyes
only
focussed on a dimness even darker than the rest of the dimness around
him,
creating a shape that may have been a boot of some sort. It was
that
chuckle--that deadly, vicious chuckle he heard from above that made his
blood run absolutely cold.
Taerlyn
was
clearly not going to fade into the night like the genuine lady her
mother had tried to raise. Oh no. When the arrows failed,
she
went straight for the groin. She was completely successful in
avoiding
capture--until she found the fourth guard was well equipped to handle
her
aggression with a metal panel. She may have broken a toe or two,
it was hard to tell--either way, she was down for the count. She
felt her arms being yanked behind her, bound with something that stung
from being so rough and tight against the skin. She knew she was
being pulled away, but there was nothing she could do about it.
That
didn't give her any reason not to try, though. She squirmed like
crazy, trying to use her whole body like an inchworm, rolling out of
the
guards' grasp more than once. Unfortunately all they had to do
was
get a good grip around her elbows and knees and carry her out.
Well...
it had been worth a shot.
And
still she struggled like crazy, not giving them a moment's peace as
they
transported her down another short flight of stairs and down a pitch
black
hallway. Not until they had actually rid themselves of her,
tossing
her into a cell and slamming the door, did they get to rest. She
was not to be underestimated.
Roan's
survival
instincts kicked into high as he slashed at as many of the
guards
as he could find. He used every skill he had ever learned in
combat,
driving back several before they got close enough to knock him on his
ass.
He couldn't quite register what had happened--only that his chest hurt,
his breath was short and he was looking at the ceiling of the stairway
all of a sudden.
Even
then, he was far from done. He threw his body forward with the
intention
of rising--a standard issue boot to the jaw was his reward for quick
thinking,
and another in the gut for good measure. He reached desperately
for
a weapon even as his vision melted into a gray haze, but it did no
good.
Something had tight hold of his wrist, while another unseen was
crushing
his windpipe. He could no longer hold on to anything but a single
word, a single thought, as dim as the light was getting... Fuck.
Thu-whump. Thu-whump. The numbness was wearing off a little. Now he felt like he was moving. Not very smoothly, though. Certainly not of his own volition--he tried to move his arms in front of him to give him some bearing, but they were securely behind his back; and not budging.
Thu-whump. Thu-whump. His shoulder was jarred, and the numbness, quite unfortunately, dissipated. He tried to lay still long enough to get a feel for what was happening, his eyes unable to adjust to the near darkness. It hit him like the next unfortunate Thu-whump--he was being dragged up the stairs. And the guards were making damn sure he encountered every last step on his way up.
Shit. He was in trouble now, in the midst of something akin to panic. They were taking him to Aunger, directly. His struggles began anew, regardless of the dark and widespread bruises he'd no doubt already acquired.
The guards seemed to pay very little mind to his actions, continuing steadily up the stairway. They didn't even bother looking back as they kept marching, brain dead and following orders as well as any loyal zombies.
Roan thought perhaps his heart would just stop, it was beating so hard. He wasn't ready, dammit; he could never be ready to face Aunger like this! It wasn't supposed to happen this way! He struggled again, mindless to the blood starting to drip from where the binding was cutting into his skin. He couldn't do this, it couldn't happen like this, meeting up with Aunger while being tied, after having abandoned and then fought against him--
There was a brighter light up ahead. No, fuck, no. The chamber was just ahead, just above. Too soon, not enough time to get away, not enough--
He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. No, he couldn't... he couldn't think like that. He hadn't even seen Aunger and already he had been weakened by the man. He couldn't let that happen. He had to stay strong regardless. It was the only way to get close enough, to succeed. There was more than just his pathetic life at stake, dammit. And if he played this right, they'd all live through it.
The guards may have stopped dragging him, but the ordeal wasn't over. He was heaved roughly to his feet and dragged along that way, straight up to the giant stone doors. He could lose his stomach at any moment, he realized, looking at the perfectly fine craftsmanship in the stone itself. Too fine to belong to that man. It brought back too much, too fast.
He never would have been ready for it. Not had he been given all of the time in the world. The doors were heaved open, spreading multicolored light across him that he tried so hard to cringe away from. The stained glass window was all too familiar. Aunger's lush throne rested just in front of it, but the man was not sitting there.
He thought he'd be stronger. He thought he'd be able to handle it--but it was all he could do not to throw up, let alone struggle. He'd actually blacked out for a few seconds there, just long enough to have been carried unwittingly to the right side of the room. He woke again when he was slammed mercilessly against the rough stone of what Aunger had always called his "play wall", covered in shackles and chains for those times when the man had wanted to "be entertained". Oh yes, he remembered some of the "entertainment" a little too vividly.
The breath was stricken from him, but somehow he managed to use the wall to lean against as the guards scattered away, leaving him alone to stand under his own weight. Leaving him alone. With the madman. With the nightmare he knew was standing somewhere across the room. He dared not look. No, gods, he dare not raise his eyes or it would be real again. He could hardly keep his stomach under control as it was...
The beast, the monster, the king--he could feel Roan's fear, taste it like a vintage wine. And he knew he had been acknowledged, directly or not. Time to start the show. He patiently threw his red as blood cloak over his shoulder and turned, looking straight at the boy who nearly cowered against the wall. Good boy.
The sharp, controlled and military click of each step made Roan cringe at every crisp beat. It was all he could do to stand on his own, but he was trying to be strong. Trying to be calm, to look like this wasn't affecting him. He carefully raised his eyes, trying to look as defiant as he thought he felt--to no avail. That sickening smile from the madman, far too familiar, had struck him like a physical force.
He was so certain he would pass out again; maybe for good, that time. But then, no, Aunger was not that kind. Roan's heart raced, his head had begun to throb, and he wasn't sure with each breath if he'd be able to take another. The familiar shadow passed over him, lit from behind with colors of stained glass that seemed to mock his fear more than anything. Close enough to smell, close enough to know he'd be stricken at any time, at any point. And that was only if he were lucky enough to be left standing.
No, dammit! He was not a child, and he was not the thing he was mere days before. He would not let this maniac, this psycho, do this to him. He raised his eyes again, meeting that mocking otherworldly blue gaze of the taller man before him.
"I never thought I'd see you again." Aunger looked only too pleased in seeing the boy's fierce determination melt under his perfectly smooth voice. His venom smile persisted, hiding underneath it the source of all terror.
Roan swallowed those words with distaste, composing himself as best he could, gaining back as much strength as he dared. "I couldn't let you live out the rest of your life as well you have been." He forced his voice to remain level--would not let it falter.
The madman only breathed a soft laugh, slowly taking a long look at his former servant from boots to hair. As he passed the boy's eyes, he held their gaze until he could clearly see the fear in them. Regardless of the boy's focus on keeping himself strong, he could not fully escape this demon's practiced tactics. "Brave words, I will admit."
"I mean them." Roan growled, determined. His general anger had begun to drive him forward, overcoming even the fear in its wake.
The man's rancid smile only continued though it were painted on, and he nodded delicately. Leaning forward so close that his lips almost touched the boy's ear, he whispered, "It seems you've forgotten years in the short time you've been away..."
He flinched unwillingly, absolutely certain that his flesh would be ripped open the instant the monster had stopped talking. His eyes begged to close tightly, his body pleaded to collapse to the ground and curl up, waiting for eternal dark to take him--but he would not let his strength dissolve so easily. The fear was dissipating into a steady anger that he'd never felt quite as intensely before, and it bore him on. "I've been through a bit."
Aunger took a step back and shook his head like a proud, bewildered parent. "Such a traitor." His smile still gleamed, his voice almost soft and sing-song. "And for what? What reason did you have to abandon all that I had given you? For a romp in the grass you haven't even gotten? You could have had anything you wanted. I could have kept one alive for you. I could have kept her alive for you."
The man's voice was so gentle, so sweet, that it made Roan's stomach churn. What the bastard was saying--fuck, what was being implied... he dropped his head, taking a deep and steady breath. His lips pulled back at his agonizing rage, exposing his teeth with a vicious snarl. Dead, he wanted that son of a bitch dead. For everything he'd ever done to him, to his family, to the whole fucking world...
An unexpected fist of purely unnatural strength shattered that last thought, as well as the right side of the boy's jaw. He cried out, unable to help it--but Aunger only kept smiling that serpent's smile, speaking as softly and carefully as ever. "You know better than to growl at me. You've lost your manners."
"I've lost my fear." Roan managed, regardless of the blinding pain pulsating through his whole head. It was true; that fear was giving way to pure and absolute anger, and it drove him further. He swallowed a mouthful of blood and threw caution to the wind, using the blue fire to heal himself. The hot agony was quenched by the blue coolness, giving him a moment of calm to regain himself and his footing.
"I doubt that." Aunger returned gently. Out of nowhere, he began to laugh--a laugh that Roan had never heard before. No sound had ever chilled him so deeply, so suddenly... "You've mastered some magic without my help, I see." He punctuated the last word with another agonizingly strong strike, backhanding his former servant. "You didn't have my permission to learn healing. Or lock picking. I satisfied that last mistake, however."
Those words stung more than his face. Aliyn. The bastard was talking about Aliyn. His stomach felt heavy with rage, his throat burning with it. Sandy, Aliyn, Adrian, and no doubt Marqueh... and how many of their friends and family... he'd stolen them all away. The rage gave him a burst of courage that drowned out the pain. "I don't need your fucking permission. I'm not your possession anymore."
"Smart boy!" the madman chuckled quietly--one instant before backhanding him again, with the other hand. The laughter bubbled up once more, sounding utterly, completely, insane.
Roan merely stood here, blood coursing down his chin in small streams, staring at the lunatic before him. That laugh, it made him cold, almost made him as afraid as he used to be, all over again. It was something so... wrong. He could only watch as those brilliant, demonic blue eyes drew his attention toward them.
The smile finally, suddenly dropped from Aunger's face as though it had never been there at all. His eyes were unmasked, showing all of their depths of cruelty and control, ensnaring Roan like a trap. "You could never really leave me, boy. You know that." As the last word was uttered coldly, that disturbing smile melted back onto his face. With no warning, he used his unnatural strength to kick the boy between the legs. Pained and weakened, Roan fell instantly to his knees, helpless. The madman breathed a satisfied sigh and let a searing bolt of magical energy rush out of his fingertips, enticing a gut-wrenching shriek so loud that it echoed a dozen times off of the stone walls.
Having expected nothing so horrifically painful--so agonizingly familiar--Roan hissed through his teeth and tried to regain himself. Aunger wasn't willing to let him have the chance, striking him again across the face until the blood was pouring down his shirt. One last bolt of electric pain shot through his body, and his very thoughts were burned out of existence. Even the knowledge of his own name was shattered with the excruciating sting. The bolt of energy had been so intense that his bonds had burned and crumbled away to ash, but he dared not move. His voice had cracked, his throat painfully dry from the scream itself--regardless of being wet with the blood oozing out due to the internal damage. "It's true, My Lord." He coughed, tears of the agony flooding his vision, blood leaking from his mouth.
"Good boy." Aunger spoke tenderly with that same ghastly smile. "Now I certainly can't have my servant in these bloody clothes, can I? Hold your hands out to me, boy."
