Depth of the Rain by Orin Drake
A completed novel, available here.

        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..."
Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
Use without linking back to the source makes you a dick.