Tanys Defiant Page 7

  “He didn’t pay me the respect I was due!” Thael hissed dangerously, “And when my mistress is done with him, I pray to all the dark gods of the pit that she lets me have what’s left of him!”

  “What is she going to do to him?” Tanys asked, a flutter of fear in her voice as the full weight of the demon spider’s body settled on her chest, pressing the rough scarred wood of the table into the skin of her back.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about Carathan right now,” Thael gloated hungrily, his breath hot against her naked breast, “I’ve just decided what part of you I want to eat first.”

  With a snarling cry and a great heave, Tanys arched her back, launching the evil spider beast end over end and forward onto her face. Her teeth clamped down hard on a bristly leg, and she thrashed her head violently from side to side like a she-wolf with a rabbit in her jaws. Thael screamed, a high, watery noise that rang distantly in her ears as a berserk fury roared in her brain. With a wet ripping sound, Thael’s deformed body tore free of the mangled limb and landed heavily in the corner of the room nearest the door. Sobs and shrieks of agony arose from the wounded beast as Tanys calmly turned her head aside and spit out the ruined bristly leg.

  “Come back to me when you’re done crying softly in the dark,” Tanys laughed harshly, “I should be hungry again by then.”

  “I’ll make you pay for that!” Thael sobbed weakly, “I’ll make you pay dearly!” He began shouting for the guards then with all the strength he had left, and Tanys chuckled softly to herself, wondering how she was going to kill a roomful of guards with just her teeth.

  “Guards, help me!” the spider-thing shrieked again, and it seemed someone heard his cries as the door opened, and a hunched, threatening figure was silhouetted briefly by the dim light of the hallway. Then the door closed again, plunging them all into darkness.

  “What? How dare you!” Thael’s voice cried out, and scuffling, grunting noises followed, “Let go of me!”

  Thael’s piercing shrieks again filled the room, full of agony and rage at first, but then only unspeakable terror. At last, Tanys felt that her sanity might shatter if those screams continued any longer, and, mercifully, they stopped. The door opened again, and someone turned the lamp valve, filling the room with light.

  There in the doorway, leaning weakly against the frame, stood a very wan-looking, but otherwise unharmed Misha, her dark eyes filled with weary relief, smiling gently. Beside the table, Jorva stood, with a twitching black spider leg dangling from between his sharp, bloody teeth. The rest of Thael was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sorry,” the dwarf said with a sheepish grin, “Jorva very hungry. Forget to share.”

  Chapter 7

  The silken blanket smelled of smoke. It had been the southern girl’s only clothing apart from the soot-stained bandages that covered her breasts, but she had wrapped it around Tanys’ shoulders the moment Jorva had freed her of her bonds. Kneeling on the floor beside her, Misha massaged the raw marks left by the restraining cords on Tanys’ wrists and ankles, whispering words of subtle healing magic. The puncture wounds in Tanys’ foot concerned her most of all, but the healer had no other aid to offer.

  “How did you escape the burning ship?” Tanys asked, leaning back against the wall of the dark chamber.

  “Jorva saved me,” Misha replied with a smile, “he woke me up, and the ship was on fire. He carried me out and we climbed into Cini’s ship through a gap in the hull armor.”

  “Cini?”

  “Lord Carathan’s wife.” Misha said flatly.

  “You know her?” Tanys asked.

  “She is cruel and powerful,” Misha answered sadly, “no match for Carathan of course, though once he believed she was. She tried to poison me once.”

  “I think she will probably not live through the night.” Tanys muttered dangerously, wincing as Misha tended her wounds.

  A dark smile flickered on Misha’s lips for a moment then disappeared, “Carathan still loves her.”

  “She tried to kill him!” Tanys scoffed.

  “My lord Carathan’s heart owes no allegiance to his will,” Misha said, looking directly into Tanys’ eyes with an intensity that made the raven girl look away, “his love is sometimes… misplaced.”

  Tanys felt herself blushing hotly and wondered how much the southern girl guessed. ”Misha…” Tanys began to speak, but the girl pressed a finger to Tanys’ lips and smiled.

  “We will just have to help him cope with his loss when she is gone,” Misha said with mock gravity. Tanys laughed aloud and Misha laughed as well, hugging Tanys warmly.

  Tanys looked up to see the tattooed dwarf picking his teeth with some sharp implement of torture he had found in his search of the library. “Jorva, how the hell did you get here?” she asked.

  “Jorva get on land boat,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, “get on other boat when that one burn up. Jorva like being warm, but not that warm.”

  “How did you escape from the trolls?” Tanys asked.

  “Jorva climb out of hole and get on boat.”

  “You just climbed out of the pit and snuck aboard Carathan’s ship?” Tanys marveled.

  “You still owe Jorva neck rub,” he beamed cheerfully, “Jorva keep eyes on you!”

  Tanys laughed incredulously, “I’d braid pink ribbons in your hair if you ask it Jorva!”

  The dwarf rubbed a massive hand across his smooth bald head with a confused look before shaking his head and returning to his search of the torture chamber.

  Misha leaned closer to Tanys, wetting a corner of the blanket with her tongue and using it to wipe the dried spider blood from Tanys’ lips and face. Her voice was low as she spoke again, “I’ve only known your friend for a brief time, and he seems very courageous and sincere, but there is something strange about him.”

  Tanys raised an eyebrow in mock wonder, “you noticed?”

  “No,” Misha smiled, “I mean that he shouldn’t have been able to sneak unnoticed aboard lord Carathan’s ship… and he shouldn’t have been able to wake me from the sleeping spell either.”

  “What are you saying?” Tanys asked quietly, watching the hulking dwarf as he tried to pry the lid from a thick glass jar that contained what appeared to be the vital organs of a previous guest of the ship’s cruel matron. “Do you think he’s some sort of sorcerer in disguise?”

  “No,” Misha answered, pursing her lips, “I don’t sense any magic about him at all… nothing, not even of the basest sort I sense even in you.”

  Tanys eyes flashed toward the southern girl, uncertain if she’d just been insulted, but Misha’s gaze was fixed on Jorva. “Do you think he’s dangerous to us somehow?” Tanys asked.

  “No,” Misha answered, “I’d just like to know why magic doesn’t seem to work around him. It may have something to do with the marks on his body.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those symbols are runes that are familiar to my people, words of magic… only they aren’t written properly.” Misha said, then raised her voice, “Jorva, would you come here, please?”

  Jorva looked up from where he knelt by the broken jar at his feet, and guiltily dropped the unrecognizable piece of flesh he’d been sniffing. Wiping his hands on his pants, he clambered over to sit beside the girls. He flashed his toothy smile and waited for further orders.

  Misha took his arm and traced the outlines of one of his silvery tattoos with her fingertip. “This one,” she said, “means ‘fire’… only part of the rune is missing, and this one is the symbol for pain, again missing part of the rune.”

  “What are these marks, Jorva?” Tanys asked.

  “That Jorva’s skin,” he replied, “hold Jorva’s insides inside.”

  “No,” she tried again, “where did you get the marks on your skin?”

  “That just Jorva’s skin,” he insisted, “always like that.”

  “Where did you come from, Jorva?” Misha asked kindly.

  “From the other lan
d boat,” he grinned, “Misha come from there too!”

  “No,” Tanys interjected, “where do you come from originally?”

  “Oh!” Jorva answered, apparently relieved to finally understand the direction of their queries, “Jorva come from baby Jorva!”

  “And where did baby Jorva come from?” Tanys demanded, losing patience.

  “Tanys!” the dwarf scoffed, shaking his head, “everybody know where babies come from!”

  “Thank you Jorva,” Misha said, smiling pleasantly, “can you see if you can find something for us to wear?”

  Jorva nodded eagerly and leapt again to the task of searching the room. Tanys and Misha soon joined in as well though the southern girl paled visibly at some of the things they found left behind by the ghast torturers. They discovered no trace of the clothes the guards had taken from Tanys, but a dusty basket in the corner yielded a few scraps of clothing, presumably taken from previous victims. Tattered canvas pants and a bloodstained shirt served for Tanys while Misha wrapped herself in a torn blue silk dress. Jorva frowned his disapproval as Tanys hefted a large carving knife from a nearby table, flicking the blade through the air a few times to test its balance.

  “Don’t worry, Jorva” Tanys said, clicking her teeth together audibly, “I’ve been practicing your way too!”

  Jorva laughed aloud, and then quietly followed Tanys to the door. She peeked into the dark hallway, and, seeing no one, she motioned for the others to follow her out. She followed the hallway leading back to Cini’s throne room, moving with catlike grace, and the others followed with surprising stealth. They paused outside the unguarded door of the dark lady’s chamber, listening intently.

  Suddenly they heard the sound of Carathan’s voice crying out in wordless agony, and Tanys had to hold Misha back from charging in to rescue him. Cini’s voice carried now above the fading cries of Carathan’s pain, full of frustration and rage, “how do you get it out of him?”

  “My lady,” a man’s cold voice answered, “there may be no other way. This is your destiny. It is no time for foolish sentimentality.”

  A long silence followed, broken only intermittently by Carathan’s soft sobbing. Then the Gerridaan woman spoke again, “I will do it myself then, I owe him that. Bring me the knife.”

  “We must help him now!” Misha whispered fervently in Tanys’ ear, “They’re going to kill him!”

  “Wait here, Misha,” Tanys hissed, “Jorva, I’ll need your help.”

  “Fight?” the dwarf asked hopefully.

  “Fight.” She replied. The word brought a smile of joy to Jorva’s face.

  Tanys burst through the door, a storm of steel and rage. The throne stood empty before her. At the far end of the room Carathan hung, suspended by chains, between two guardsmen. He was naked and insensate, his body glistening with rivulets of golden fire that steamed like sweat on his skin. Cini, the dark lady of the Gerridaan, stood before him with a curved obsidian dagger in her hand and a look of complete shock on her face. At her side, an ancient and evil-looking man in black sorcerer’s robes waved his gnarled fingers, gibbering chilling words of dark spellcraft. The final words of his spell never made it past the blade that Tanys hurled into his throat.

  Cini’s spell was quicker, and Tanys felt her legs buckle beneath her as strength left her body. She fell hard to the floor, rolling over just in time to see the horrified expression on Cini’s face as Jorva shrugged aside the power of her magic and sent her reeling against the wall with a flying kick as he dove past her to engage the two guards.

  The spell broken, Tanys regained her feet, glancing toward the corner where Jorva was tearing apart the two ghast guardsmen. She moved with deadly deliberation toward the wall where Cini lay unconscious in a heap of black feathers and silvery hair. Tanys stooped to pry the dagger from the throat of the old wizard who lay convulsing on the floor. She wiped the gory blade clean on Cini’s black dress as she knelt beside her. Grabbing a handful of white hair, Tanys lifted Cini’s head. The ghast woman moaned painfully as her eyelids fluttered, trying to open.

  “I think I’ll start with your tongue, witch!” Tanys hissed, raising the knife to Cini’s face, “then we can move on to the other parts.”

  “No!” Misha cried out from across the room where she cradled Carathan’s head against her breast. The southern girl’s eyes flashed fiercely, “She’s going to need that to talk!”

  Chapter 8

  Carathan lay in a bed of soft furs. Misha knelt beside him, tenderly wiping the golden mist from his brow, apparently unburned by the magic flames that wreathed her beloved’s body. The sorcerer’s eyes glowed through closed lids, and he moaned and muttered incoherent words that rose like fairy fire from his lips. Misha leaned close, kissing him softly on the forehead, and then she rose, her back to Tanys, Jorva, and their prisoner. A long moment passed, and when Misha turned to face them, the cold dead look in the girl’s eyes frightened Tanys.

  Misha crossed the room to where Cini now hung in the same chains that had bound Carathan. A gag of black silk that Tanys had torn from Cini’s dress now prevented her from speaking the words of any spells. Even so, Jorva stood close at hand with instructions to strike her down if she tried her sorcery again.

  “You recognize the spellbreaker?” Misha demanded, pointing at Jorva, her voice cold and flat, “your magic will not help you here.”

  Cini only glared in response, her dark eyes filled with loathing.

  “You recognize me as well?” Misha asked.

  Cini sneered, her gag muffling a short ugly word.

  Tanys actually jumped in surprise when Misha struck Cini hard across the face. Cini’s eyes widened in shock and rage, the chains that held her suspended from the ceiling rattled from the force of the blow.

  “That,” Misha said, “was for the poison needle you left in my bed. And that is the last time I will ever hurt you.”

  Cini’s eyes narrowed warily as she watched Misha flexing her delicate fingers against the sting of the blow she had delivered.

  “Do you know where Carathan found me?” Misha asked. Cini kept her silence as the Leddite girl continued, “They called it the House of Crimson Glass. I can see by the fear in your eyes that you’ve heard of it. The girls they brought there… they called them ‘marionettes’. Mercifully, I was not chosen to be one of them. I was never ‘put to strings’.”

  Cini struggled in her bonds, her growing fear evident in her muffled words of protest.

  “The lord of that house brought me there to serve a kinder purpose… if you can call it that,” Misha said, “I was there to keep them alive, to help the marionettes keep dancing. At first I thought that I did it to ease their pain. I eventually realized that I only wanted to keep them alive to take my place on the stage.”

  Misha leaned forward, taking Cini’s face in her hands, gently brushing away the rising bruise from the woman’s cheek with a healing touch. “You see,” Misha whispered softly, “I can make the pain go away.”

  Misha took a step back then and lifted Cini’s chin toward Tanys who stood ready with the carving knife balanced lightly between her fingers. “She on the other hand…” Misha said, her words cold and toneless, “she will give it back to you.”

  As quickly as Misha stepped away, Tanys stepped in with a flick of the blade, leaving a red streak across Cini’s cheek. The sorceress screamed and shook against her chains, her muffled cries continuing as Misha wiped the blood from Cini’s cheek with her thumb, sealing the wound with a word of magic.

  “That one was deep,” Misha said, “I’m afraid there will be a scar.” Cini screamed again.

  “I think I like this game,” Tanys chuckled as Cini flinched at losing a lock of her silvery hair to a deft stroke of the knife, “what part of her do you want to do next?”

  Cini cringed in terror, trying to get as far away from Tanys as possible, burying her face in her shoulder. Misha watched her struggle for a moment before speaking, “First allow me to explain the rules to her,
because it is very important that she understands how she must behave when I remove her gag.”

  Cini’s eyes flashed at this, but Misha guessed her thoughts, saying, “If you attempt a spell, the man behind you will hurt you very badly to prevent it. I know that you think you can risk a very subtle and clever spell to turn things in your favor, but I have trained under lord Carathan’s tutelage, and I will know if you do. I swear to you that your spell will fail, and I swear as well that you will regret having tried it. If you cry out, hoping to summon a guard, you will regret that as well. Do you understand?”

  Cini nodded her head fiercely, her eyes cold with hate. At Misha’s prompting, Tanys moved behind the prisoner and untied the knot in her gag. As she pulled the gag free, Tanys leaned in, whispering in Cini’s ear, “remember… if it were up to me you’d already be dead.”

  “Oh I will remember,” Cini gasped, her words broken with hate as she glared back over her shoulder at Tanys.

  “Enough!” Misha snapped, “You will speak when I require it!” Cini glared silently at the southern girl, trembling with rage and fear.

  “Who was the dead man over there?” Misha demanded, indicating the corpse of the ancient sorcerer Tanys had killed.

  “Just an advisor,” Cini said, then she whimpered in pain as Tanys struck her just below the shoulder blade with the pommel of the knife. “He was a mage,” she gasped, “one of the Terjaan Council!”

  Misha seemed taken aback by this. “Why did the Council want Carathan dead?”

  “They didn’t want him dead,” Cini moaned, “They just wanted me to control the power he sought.”

  “They wanted you to control it?” Misha scoffed. “The Terjaan do not relinquish control to anyone.”

  “I am powerful and respected among them,” Cini exclaimed, “They became aware of my destiny to rule and offered their services in return for my favor when I came into my full power.”

  Misha laughed aloud then, “You stupid woman! Once you were in possession of the Flame, they would have carved it out of you the way you were ready to carve it from Carathan’s breast!”