Chapter 22 - "So She
Arrives."
She
found
herself staring hatefully at the door to her cell, trying to
project
all of her annoyance at it. It's not that she had any theory that
this sort of thing would actually free her. It was just that the
aggravation needed to go somewhere. And the first person
to
walk through might well drop dead of it. She could dream, anyway.
Suddenly
a jolt of cold weight hit her stomach--it was more than just a feeling
of dread. Exactly what it was, she couldn't have been
certain--but
it was not good. Not at fucking all.
The
hatred she had been directing at the door fell momentarily in favor of
trying to figure out why her instincts were going haywire. Things
were... happening. That's the only conclusion that she
kept
coming to. It was making her quite nervous, in fact. She
didn't
have any idea where anyone else had been taken, or what was happening
to
them... but she had assumed it would have been similar to her
situation.
While she was far from comfortable, she was still relatively
"safe".
The thought that such might not be the case for the others...
The
dull sound of a dozen or so rhythmic footfalls distracted that thought,
instead making her focus on her own situation. Something was
about
to happen to her. And she didn't really like such an idea.
Nor did she appreciate being bound up and sitting, relatively helpless,
amongst old bones. Things were doing less than looking up.
Just
outside, the footsteps stopped. There were murmurs so quiet that
she couldn't even pick up on their intonation, then the jingle of heavy
keys. They were here for her, alright. Not that she was
about
to leap for joy. Key slid into the lock and turned, she continued
projecting.
It
did very little for her. The guards were zombies, anyway; maybe
if
they'd had the ability to think for themselves, her razor sharp look of
death may have gotten to them. As it was, they didn't feel a
thing.
Dammit. Firmly securing her arms and legs in their grip, they
heaved
her up and began the long procession back up those fucking stairs.
A
nervous fever rushed her as she realized where they were taking her. Shit.
There
wasn't
anything she could do about it now, was there? Struggles
proved utterly worthless due to the way they held her elbows and knees
in place, not to mention being bound to begin with. Cursing fell
upon deaf ears, for all intents and purposes. Then there was the
nagging feeling in her gut that something terrible was happening, the
threat
of something even worse lurking just around the corner.
Well
she sure as hell wasn't going to give in, regardless of the hopeless
situation.
Sure she nearly popped a couple of joints out trying to strain against
the bonds, giving her wrists some severe rope burn--ugh. Maybe it
wasn't worth it.
No,
goddammit--she had to try. Even if only for her own
sanity.
Alright, so... the wrists weren't doing much. But if she could
get
her legs free, at the very least she might be able to shift their
balance,
causing someone to let go and then she'd have a chance to run away...
or
at least curl up and roll back down the stairs. It was
something.
She immediately began cursing the guards again in her head, realizing
the
easiest way was out of the question; had they not been holding her like
they were, she might just be able to bend backward to the point of
letting
her otherwise useless bracers slice through the rope. But no,
things
were not that easy. The bastards.
Stair
by stair their rhythm actually seemed to be getting a little faster--a
thing
perhaps
someone not as versed in loud drum-driven music would have
missed, but something Shadow was picking up on way too keenly. It
seemed... unnatural, to say the least. But then, these things
were
just witless servants, and the source of their power could well be more
immense than their own lives. Not a pretty thought.
Back
to the situation at hand. No, she didn't have all the time in the
world, but she would use what she did have in an intelligent
fashion.
She couldn't very well thrash around and let them know she was trying
to
get her legs free. Maybe they didn't have a lot of brain power,
but
she assumed they'd pick up on that one. She'd simply have to flex
until the rope was either loose, or until... well, joint dislocation
wasn't
an option, really. First, she didn't have that ability
naturally.
And second... well, there was the whole popping it back into place
thing,
and seeing as how her arms were still behind her back...
She
flexed in a offbeat rhythm, attempting to attract as little attention
as
possible. And, to her surprise and great joy, it finally seemed
to
be working. It was undoubtedly tearing up her footwear, but that
wasn't terribly important. She ignored the sound of marching
footsteps
to concentrate solely on trying to get free. And damn did that
take
some doing.
Success!
she kept to herself at long last. Legs free, rope carefully held
between her ankles, she tried to gage their movement for the best time
to act--
They'd
stopped. Just all of a sudden. She tried to get an
indication
of exactly why without giving her position away.
Oh,
fuck. They'd stopped for possibly the most obvious reason in
the world: they'd reached the top of the steps. This... this was
annoying. All that fucking work and time wasted for this
unwelcome
conclusion. Well, la-de-da.
She
was almost tossed to the ground like a bag of grain, caught
only
by a single guard around the elbows to keep her upright. It
didn't
seem to matter that her legs were free; they neither seemed to notice
nor
give into her plan, crowding around her back and pushing toward the
door
like a moving wall.
Lovely.
She grit her teeth, seeing two zombies on either side rushing to open
the
gigantic doors. Just fucking lovely.
The
sight of the stained glass window, however, mocked her very thought
process.
It was, in fact, quite lovely. Not that she had much time to see
it--the moving wall became a battering ram, thrusting her forward such
a distance that her balance was overwhelmed, causing her to stumble and
nearly fall. But she caught herself, dammit, barely or not--and
had
only time enough to stand upright before the doors behind her boomed
shut.
Glancing over her shoulder, she noted that none of the good little
guards
had stayed. Unfortunately, she was in no position to open the
door.
A...
sourness invaded her senses quite suddenly. It wasn't one that
she
could sense through any physical means, but it was just as strong as a
fragrance--like rotten meat. She knew even before she turned her
head toward it. Only one thing could have that effect on her
instincts.
Had
she honestly not known the monster standing beside the throne was
Aunger,
she'd have thought him handsome. Not her "type" by a long shot,
but
quite good looking. A little too good looking. And now that
she saw him, all of him... way too good looking. Something was
"off"
even before he approached her--something very, very wrong. That
"sourness"
was not his, not directly; it was what he was leaving behind in his
wake.
"Ah."
He turned fully toward her, giving her that sickening sweet smile he
reserved
for whores about to meet their maker. "So she arrives."
That
voice... it was like his looks. Too lovely, too perfect. It
was so smooth, so flawless... with the touch of a British accent, if
she
could allow herself to believe it. But it made her shiver.
Far worse, though... she took notice of who was at his side now that he
had moved out of the way.
Something
tore open. What it was--external, internal, emotional,
psychological--she
had no idea. She was simply aware that something, somewhere, had
been severely decimated, ripped open and left raw and bleeding.
It
was Roan. Dressed in a perfectly fitted ensemble that resembled
what
she'd seen him in when they'd first had the "pleasure" of meeting, face
to face. Those eyes... The defiance in them was gone; as
was
the compassion. Just those raving, raping eyes of a madman were
left...
She
only remembered to breathe because her chest hurt. Even then, her
legs had gotten a touch wobbly. This... this could not be.
It couldn't... it just...
"What's
the matter, Shadow?" the delicate voice of the Dark Lord questioned,
raising
an
almost nonexistent mocking tone at her name. Of course, he
expected
no answer. Taking her shocked silence as an excellent sign, he
began
to walk toward her.
Why
each footstep made her want to cringe, every step forward made her feel
less and less at ease--the man certainly had a madness about him.
So strong, so tangible, that it projected beyond her worst
annoyances.
And this was not good. She tried to shake it off when his shadow
fell over her, but that proved nearly impossible--she understood
whatever
power he used right away. It was strong, and worse, it made use
of
everything in its range to create more power for itself. The
sourness
became almost overwhelming.
He
stopped inches in front of her, hiding the boy behind him and towering
over her frail looking body. Those blue eyes held all the pains
of
hell, barely masked by something not understood. There had been
no
warning--he struck the side of her face with the back of his hand,
holding
back just enough force to leave her standing.
She
blinked, more shocked than hurt--though it damn well stung.
Nothing
she hadn't been through before, but... she was getting the feeling that
was about to change. Fear was not what shone in her eyes when she
glared back at him. It was fiery, spiteful vengeance, instead.
"Defiant, still." He commented, smoothly tilting his head to the
side and smiling as though he were truly impressed. Without
changing
his tone, he called, "Come, boy."
No...
She wasn't ready for this one, she knew that before it even
happened.
Like a good little servant, Roan walked quickly to Aunger's side and
waited
for his orders. She didn't look. She just wasn't
able.
She couldn't afford to see those eyes again.
The
velvet monster only nodded--on the signal, Roan took one step forward
and
thrust his knee firmly into her gut. She hit the ground,
unconscious
only long enough to have not felt herself fall. Ungraciously, she
was plenty awake for hitting the ground and the stunning after-effects
of a pain she was not familiar with. Fuck it hurt--her breath
just
would not come.
Aunger
looked proudly down at her, enjoying every gasp with equal
pleasure.
"Good boy." He purred.
She
was unaware of any words exchanged, hearing very little except her own
breath and blood rushing through her ears. She did feel
that
second kick quite clearly, however. Something snapped underneath
it, and she became relatively certain that at least two ribs along the
right side of her chest had fractured.
"Get
up." The voice came in as a sweet suggestion, or a question
regarding
her well-being.
Had
she been able to gain enough breath to speak, she would have
"suggested"
a dozen ways to fuck himself. When she made no motions right
away,
she felt another godawful pain against her lower back. Things
were
clearly not looking good; her very thought process clouded by the
intense
throbbing. She must have lost consciousness again for a pretty
solid
period of time after that last strike, coming to only when that silken
voice tugged solidly at her every nerve. "Come on, wake up."
Her
body wasn't responding to full capacity, a grogginess having overcome
her
for that period of time--but another strike against the side of her
face,
a salty copper taste fresh in her mouth, got the hatred burning
again.
Her eyes opened in flames, focussing on that bastard in front of
her.
He'd dragged or carried her over to the side of the room, she noted
distantly,
watching those soft blue eyes suggest nothing of the pain that had been
inflicted only moments ago.
"It's
okay." The demon's too gentle voice continued. "You can cry
out. No one will hear you... but us."
The
aggression only burned hotter in her eyes, her bloodied lips pulling
back
on their own power. If she could rip this son of a bitch's throat
wide open--
He
struck her again, much harder. Her hearing phased out entirely,
as
did her eyesight for seconds seeming far too long. She wasn't
able
to stand for a moment; "lucky" for her, Aunger had been holding on--to
her throat. He heard her pant, felt her racing pulse against his
palm and fingers, but he hadn't heard her cry out with his blows.
When the eyes he "lovingly" stared into finally registered intelligence
again, he pulled her from the wall and slammed her back against it,
twice,
rapid and viciously.
Only
a hiss, then a cough emerged when her body collided with the
stone.
She knew what he was after, and no matter how much she hurt, or how
many
bones he'd broken, he wouldn't get a sound. If she died this way,
fine. At least she'd leave him pissed off. In her
condition,
it was a little hard to be defiant--but she was naturally so much a
bitch
that it came easily. That thought actually caused her to grin.
And
it was that grin, those white teeth shining through the red, that drove
the silky smooth bastard over the edge. His eyes shifted from
kind
orbs of blue to glacial saw blades of silver. "Don't cry out for
me?" he demanded, pounding her back against the wall, resulting in a
cracking
sound... but nothing else. How dare that cunt not lose her
composure.
How dare she not scream, not plead, not beg--he used both hands to slam
her into the wall again, determined to wrench something other than that
pained but knowing grin from her cracked lips.
Unable
to get her breath, she found her legs had simply given out underneath
her.
Vision blurred, hearing almost nonexistent, room spinning, hip full of
pins and needles, shoulders searing, ribcage aching anew--there was no
way to defend herself against the onslaught. She felt herself
being
thrown like a rag doll somewhere toward the center of the room, able
only
to make out the stained glass rainbow shining over her from the
reflection
she half-saw in the marble floor.
A
demonic smile crossed Aunger's lips as the girl struggled to get up,
assuredly
unable to detect what was coming. An idea had occurred to
him.
One that he hadn't used in so long that it struck him as brilliant that
he thought of it at all. Oh yes. He walked up to her
confidently.
"You will scream for me..." he assured her half conscious form, pulling
his belt open.
"M-Master..."
Roan's voice barely registered as audible. Even Shadow could
barely
hear it--though that much was probably understandable. She was a
little busy trying to claw her way back into full consciousness,
getting
knocked back down each time by the pain of a cracked pelvis and a
dislocated
shoulder, every breath a reminder of broken ribs.
The
Dark Lord ignored the boy, dropping his cloak to the ground with one
easy
snap. That smile only getting wider, steadily more insane, he
ripped
his own shirt off. Yes, this would work...
Roan
cringed, trying his damnedest not to be sick from the sight. All
over Aunger's upper body were grotesque marks, scars, yellow and purple
lines that criss-crossed over his chest, his arms, his back and
shoulders--all
self-inflicted. All marks, all signs of how purely unstable the
man
really was. The very skin that resided underneath his clothes was
discolored, malformed, like reptile skin and melted plastic.
"Calm,
boy." Aunger finally acknowledged him without taking his eyes
from
his conquest. "You can have the spoils."
He
couldn't, fucking, take it anymore. Fuck the plan, fuck being the
good little servant, watching and waiting for an easy opportunity--rage
boiled too steadily in his blood to keep it up. Running on
instinct
alone, Roan let his arm rise. For what purpose he was utterly
uncertain--until
something heavy and cool met his palm. Somehow, for a reason
completely
beyond his comprehension, he had summoned a sword from the weapon wall;
and how didn't matter. He took his own chance, letting
the
sword feel perfectly naturally in his fist, lunging toward the Dark
Lord
before he got the chance to do any further damage.
Aunger
looked up, surprised--and unable to move fast enough. The blade
was
driven straight through his beautiful, soulless left eye, coming out
bloody
through the back of his head. The monster roared, falling to the
wayside.
Roan
used his opportunity, kneeling beside a still gasping Shadow.
Words
did not need to be spoken; they both knew what side they belonged
on.
He carefully scooped her into a crouching position, hoping she'd
forgive
him for this--and ground her broken ribs back into place with one palm
while snapping her shoulder right with the other. As he held
everything
together, he offered some of his own energy to draw her blue fire
out.
Lucky for the both of them her pelvis was only slightly cracked, or the
energy needed to knit a bone of that size may have drained them both.
That
motion, bones moving, joints rearranging, enticed a high pitched groan;
but she understood enough to let it escape safely. Cooled then
warmed
with the healing touch, she took a thankfully painless, deep
breath.
"Now what?"
"I
have no idea." He admitted, voice edged with a touch of
regret.
He hadn't meant for anything to go quite that far. Had he not
acted
when he did...
She
shushed him with a simple glance. He'd definitely been too good
of
an actor for a while there. No apology necessary--they just
needed
to figure out their next move, right now.
A
howl of silken agony interrupted the moment. Shadow looked up too
late to escape the beast roaring toward her, grabbing onto her
shoulders
and lifting her to its remaining eye. Before she had the chance
to
even think of a way to counter the attack, she was completely
overwhelmed
by the feeling of flying.
Roan
watched in shocked horror as Aunger used his strength to fling her
right
into that stained glass window. As her body hit the glass, it
stopped
for a split second--then merged and fell away with the shards, letting
the unfiltered sunlight through. Before the terror of what had
just
taken place could sink in, the monster grasped hold of the boy's wrist
and broke it with a quick, clean snap.
Aunger
glared at the traitor with a mocking glance, pinning him face-down to
the
floor. With a satisfied grunt, he took hold of the sword he'd
been
crippled him with, then drove it into the boy's broken wrist and well
into
the floor.
Letting
out a sharp cry, it was all Roan could do to hold onto the
moment.
He couldn't risk looking--not at the sword through his wrist, not at
the
one-eyed beast from hell next to him. He needed all his wit and
strength
to escape before something worse happened--he had to get to Shadow.
But
the Dark Lord had his own ideas. Confident that the boy would
stay
in place for the time being, he crossed the room to get some... toys of
his own.
After
the
sound of her own thrumming heartbeat subsided, Shadow heard the
painful
shriek above her. She wasn't quite certain what to make of it,
head
still spinning with the impact and the fall. Come to think of it,
she wasn't falling right then...
Her
mind clicked back into place, the realization that she was still alive
and well bringing her back to the core of reality. She looked
around,
trying to get a feel for where exactly she was--finding herself resting
in the outstretched arms of a giant dragon statue. On the side of
Aunger's tower. The true understanding struck her as she looked
into
the stone eyes: they weren't stone. Oh, they were, now--but they
weren't before. She could feel it, somewhere, sense it
just
as strongly as the taint Aunger left behind. These weren't just
trophies.
These were real, living creatures, trapped by that crazy son of a bitch
and used for fucking building material.
She
gazed around as she slowly righted herself, in the process making sure
there was no serious physical damage. There were hundreds of
thousands
of creatures making up these walls. Generations trapped, kept
there
for who knew how long--she instantly realized that looking down was not
an option. She'd never been so high up in her life. Even
flying
on the back of a dragon didn't make the ground look that far
away.
It
didn't matter, though. Not at the moment. She took a deep
breath
and a careful handhold, using every ounce of balance and skill she had
in her to climb back up to that window. At least she hadn't
fallen
far.
He'd
lost
track of time. The pain was too distracting, the blood loss
not making it any easier. And he couldn't heal without first
removing
the object in the way--being what was causing him so much fucking pain
in the first place. Yes, the bone was broken, but not in a way
that
would allow him freedom any easier. The thought of cutting his
own
arm open on the blade just to escape was certainly a last
option.
Dammit! He reached up and yanked at the hilt, but the position he
was in wouldn't allow him the proper balance. All he knew was
that
he needed out of the situation, and quickly. Things were looking
very bad.
A
movement
in the window distracted him. Without a moment's pause, something
had climbed right on inside--something familiar. Eye contact was
exchanged briefly, but no questions. She'd seen the pain in his
gaze
and recognized the reason instantly. Taking hold of the sword
with
both hands, she took a deep breath and tugged. For a moment there
she was sure she wouldn't have the strength, but after a second good
pull
and the grinding of metal against marble, she'd freed his hand.
Roan
grasped
his wrist, holding in the rest of the blood and righting the
broken
bone with a short squeak. Blue fire instantly burned the wound
closed,
taking only a moment more to meld the bone. That had been close.
"Okay?"
she
whispered, kneeling.
The
fact
that she was still alive was assurance in itself. He had
fully
intended to answer--but his eyes grew wide with the sight of what
waited
behind her.
There
was...
a knowing grin in the backs of her eyes, one that only graced
her
slightly curved lips. She moved her right arm up and over her
shoulder,
catching Aunger's chosen sword by a single hook of her bracer. A
vicious smile becoming apparent on her face, she smoothly spun around,
thrusting a leg out to knock the bastard's own legs from under
him.
Seeing her plan was successful, she completely the spin at just the
right
moment so that she was able to roll his body off of her back, flipping
him straight to the ground.
The
monster
roared again in agony, the solid impact of his body leaving a
crack
in the floor. The sword flew from his hand, skittering end over
end
somewhere too far away to be of any use. Before he was able to
interpret
exactly what had happened, Shadow was upon him. One knee laid
firmly
in his gut, she let go a grunt of exhilaration and thrust two fingers
deep
into his empty eye socket.
The
demon's
body underneath her writhed and screamed, but she paid that
much
no mind. The once smooth voice was all terror and agony, and it
made
her smile like a mirror reflecting his cruelty. "Does it hurt?"
she
growled, making Roan flinch; it was a tone he'd never heard from her
before.
When there was no answer, she jammed her fingers deeper into the socket
and looked straight into his remaining eye. It was wet with tears
of pain and fear, darker blue than before, expressing his agony as he
squirmed
aimlessly underneath her.
"Scream
for
me." She whispered with a vicious hiss, showing him the true
depths of fire her eyes held. Without pause, she raised her free
fist and began to pound it into his once lovely face. Each blow
landed
in a wet crunch and an increasingly withering scream, over and over
again
until blood squirted from his mouth and ears, his remaining eye dimming
and the tears turned red. Still she would not relent, plummeting
her fingers even deeper into the socket and her fist into his face, all
over his face, time after time finding yet more painful marks and
crushing
them under her own hatred. "Scream for me, mother fucker."
Roan
watched
closely, kneeled beside the both of them, taking in each and
every
motion with careful attention. Regardless of the ferociousness
making
him uneasy, each crunch, each new gush of blood felt like another chain
broken for his freedom. Granted the bastard deserved it, and he
sure
as hell loved watching... but he'd never imagined this from
Shadow.
It scared him. It enthralled him. It made him love her even
more. It made him think twice about... everything.
Pulling
back
her arm again--her muscles still straining, her entire body
appearing
still ready to drive her fist through his skull--she suddenly changed
direction.
She seemed at first to miss her mark, punching across, toward and past
the fingers lodged in his eye socket. Snarling a smile of deep
satisfaction,
she pressed the clawed bracer against the monster's throat, then ripped
her arm outward. In a spray of bubbling blood and a noise
resembling
the tearing of fabric, she slashed his throat open. Again she
punched
at air and then ripped her arm back, slashing over and over until the
entire
head had been severed from the carcass. Fingers still in the
socket,
she stood up and hurled the head out the broken window with a quiet
sigh
of satisfaction. But there was... one more thing.
Perhaps
smartly,
it was only at this point that Roan looked away. It was
clear what she was doing--there was one more part to sever. Just
for her own personal satisfaction, if nothing else. Finished,
sated,
she stood up and turned away from the gored body. It simply
didn't
matter any longer.
Ignoring
the
blood covering her, that oozed between their bodies in lukewarm
drips,
Roan embraced her. So glad to have her, so happy to have her
whole
and back in one piece...
She
took
a deep, steady breath as she held him back. Freedom.
For
both of them. For all of them. Finally pulling away, she
let
a little humor back into the situation. "How are you?"
"Better."
He
responded honestly, smiling. His eyes... they were his
again.
But before he had the chance to relax, something crossed his face and
he
took her hand in his, his new sword in the other, and lead her down the
stairs in a run.
"Realize
something
just then?" she inquired, keeping up quite well, considering.
"Yep."
He
made a supreme understatement. "We need to find Evyn and
Taerlyn.
Quickly."
Regardless
of
the subject matter, she grinned. "Didn't have this so well
planned
out, did you?"
He
glanced
back at her, not slowing down. "Well, it was sort of an
in-the-moment
thing..." |
|