Tanys Defiant Page 9
“Still, I shouldn’t have,” Tanys admitted, “I don’t know why he affected me so. Even now… I feel like I need him to need me.”
“It’s just something about him,” Misha said, “Magic for him is his nature. He can’t help but charm everyone he meets. Still, I knew he wanted you from the start. You’re so different.”
“Thanks,” Tanys replied sourly, “I’ve always been a little ‘different’.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Misha insisted, “There’s something special about you. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“It felt like you put all your fingers on it a little earlier!” Tanys scoffed, and Misha giggled again, blushing. For some reason Tanys felt completely at ease with her now. Gone was the awkward embarrassment of their first meeting, and Tanys lay, naked and unashamed, beside her new friend. Then Misha leaned across and gently kissed her.
Tanys looked at her, uncertain of what to say. Misha lay naked in the golden light of the magical flame, arms at her sides, small breasts heaving in the softness of the tousled blankets, dark eyes full of adoration beneath the tumbled ringlets of wine-red hair, her full lips parted slightly in anticipation. Tanys lifted a trembling hand to place it on the girl’s shoulder, but Misha took her hand in a warm grasp and held it for a long time before placing a warm kiss on the palm of her hand. Misha rose with a smile and slipped again into her robe as Tanys silently rolled from the bed and retrieved her clothes and weapons.
Buckling the heavy belt about her waist, Tanys turned and watched Misha stoop to cover the sleeping sorcerer with a fur blanket, a look of complete happiness on her face. Misha’s eyes rose to meet hers again, and the southern girl silently mouthed the words, “thank you.” Tanys nodded and smiled at her before stepping quietly out into the hall.
Jorva was sitting cross-legged in the chair opposite the door with several half-eaten roasted chickens in his lap and a broad smirk on his greasy face. “Tanys hungry now?” he asked, offering her a meaty leg bone.
****
The next morning, Carathan brought them together in the map room. The pale blue light of the arctic dawn shone in through tall narrow windows that followed the curve of the aftmost section of the hull that formed the rear wall of the low-ceilinged room. On the black oaken table, a number of charts were strewn about, the topmost showing the outlines of a number of large structures surrounded by myriad smaller dwellings that made up the Abyssal Keep. Carathan indicated with his finger the largest of the structures, explaining that this was the stronghold of the Terjaan Council.
“They are powerful sorcerers all,” Carathan said, “and they will not easily be put off.”
“Is it wise to face them directly, my lord?” Misha asked, “You would be stronger in Tarsha.”
“Tarsha?” Tanys asked.
“My homeland,” Carathan responded with a smile. He thought for a moment before replying, “No, there is far too much intrigue back home for any one man to keep it all straight, and, in any case, we’d have to go through the keep to get there anyway. We might as well deal with them now.”
“In their own stronghold?” Misha asked, the worry evident in her voice.
“They certainly wouldn’t expect me to try it!” Carathan answered with a wry smile.
Misha regarded him flatly, not amused.
“How will we take them by surprise?” Tanys asked, pointing at the map with her dagger, “can these walls be climbed?”
Carathan chuckled briefly before answering, “not exactly… these aren’t towers you see. My people do not care much for heights. Think of it more as a tower inverted, dug down into the rock of the Abyssal Keep. At the top is a heavily guarded bunker that surrounds the first of several shafts that lead down into the delv itself. The Phyrric Mages will be in the lowest levels, safely snuggled into the cold bosom of the earth. Above them are their servants, guards, and blood-slaves, all willing to die in defense of their masters. We won’t be going in that way, not fighting our way in, not at first.”
Tanys had a number of questions yet, but settled on the simplest, “What did you have in mind?”
“I will go in first to talk with them,” Carathan said, raising his hand gently against Misha’s rising protests, continuing, “I will convince them to leave me and the stone alone, or, more likely, just kill them.”
“What do we do?” Tanys asked, frowning.
“When they are dead, I will need you to fight your way down to me and rescue me,” he smiled, “I may be able to kill a roomful of old wizards, but I probably won’t be in any shape to take on a delv full of guards after that.”
“Then why not just fight our way in?” she asked.
“Because once I kill the mages, the guards will be in disarray. You will have a chance then.”
“This is insane!” Misha stormed, “You can’t face them all alone!”
“What about Jorva?” Tanys asked, “Can’t he help you against the mages? Their spells would have no effect on him.”
“Jorva help!” the dwarf exclaimed cheerfully, glad to finally understand at least some of what they were discussing.
“I would very much appreciate your help, friend Jorva,” Carathan answered, “but they would know exactly what I was planning if they saw a spell-breaker walking through the front door beside me. I have to make them believe that I am not a threat, that it is safe to let me get within striking distance.”
“What if they don’t?” Misha demanded hotly, “What if they just order you killed right there?”
Carathan looked taken aback, as though he were not accustomed to having the southern girl question the wisdom of his plans. He stepped toward her and gently embraced her. “I don’t know, Misha. I just know that we have to stop them now, or they will never leave us in peace.” She buried her face in his chest, and Tanys felt a faint twinge of jealousy as he stroked her hair.
“How will we know when you’ve killed them… when we should attack?” Tanys asked.
“When the screaming starts.” Carathan answered. “When I slay their masters, the blood-slaves will go insane.”
“Blood-slave?”
“Poor wretches bound to their masters by blood magic,” Carathan said. “Their lives are slowly drained like wine from a skin to sate the dark desires of the foul magicians who have enslaved them. As they slowly die, the ancient ones who feed on them are renewed, at least for a little while.”
“Are they vampires then?” Tanys asked with a look of disgust on her face.
“Not true vampires,” Carathan smiled, “but, for our purposes, you may as well call them that.”
“What must we do to kill them?” Tanys asked.
“Well, putting a knife through one’s throat will do the trick, as you’ve already discovered,” he laughed, “They are just mortal men who have prolonged their natural lives through dark magic. I intend to kill them the same way I would kill any other man… I will just have to be a little faster at it.”
“I don’t like this plan,” Misha insisted, “Please, you must think of another way.”
Carathan looked into her pleading eyes and smiled sadly before nodding, “all right, Misha, I will try to think of something else. We still have three days to reach the Keep.”
She smiled in response and kissed him gratefully.
A sudden and urgent knock at the door interrupted anything further the sorcerer had to say. Opening the door revealed a visibly shaken ghast guardsman. “Sir,” he said, “Drake Riders. They will be on us in a matter of moments!”
Tanys followed Carathan as he raced topside with the others close behind. They exploded into the icy air of the command deck, Carathan’s spells pushing back the cold almost as an afterthought. The ice ship passed now along the course of a frozen river that flowed between the high basalt walls of a gorge. High above, dark winged shapes circled in the leaden sky above the canyon. As the shapes lowered, dipping into the gorge itself, Tanys saw that they were great black scaled and bat-winged beasts, with long tai
ls and necks. Fiery red eyes glowed from behind long, spiny snouts and their narrow jaws bristled with dagger-like teeth.
One of the beasts descended down into the canyon, swooping toward the ice ship. Tanys saw a single rider in black armor astride the thing, a long, thin lance in hand, with a black feather plume flowing from the top of his visored helm. Carathan drew his sword and held it aloft, as though to warn the rider away. Blue flames burst from the blade, and he shouted loudly in the ancient language of sorcerers. The drake reared, beating its wings against the frigid air as though to flee the blue witchfire, but then Tanys saw he only made to land on the lower deck of the ice ship. Sailors and guardsmen scattered in terror, some barely escaping the impact of the giant beast’s claws on the deck. Tanys’ heart fluttered with fear, but she jumped to interpose herself between Carathan and the drake.
Carathan chuckled, laying a hand on Tanys’ shoulder. “I will handle this,” he whispered in her ear. She stared in wonder at him, as he stepped around her and descended the steps leading from the command deck, seemingly unafraid of the monstrous beast writhing and snapping on the lower deck.
The armored figure astride the black beast grumbled an order, and the drake grew quiet and submissive. The armored rider lowered his lance into a sling beside his saddle and unbuckled the straps that held him in his seat before climbing down. He removed his helm as he crossed the deck to meet Carathan, long silver hair spilling out to frame the narrow, angular face of another ghast, his thin pale lips and dark eyes betraying a hint of mirth as he formally hailed the master of the ship.
“I did not expect to find you at the helm of Cini’s ship, old friend,” the man noted, clasping Carathan’s arm in greeting, “has there been a… reconciliation?”
Carathan lowered his head a moment before answering quietly, “Cini’s dead, Induss.”
Induss the drake rider measured the expression on Carathan’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, though he did not sound it.
“What brings you so far from the Abyssal Keep, brother?” Carathan asked, his mood lightening.
“I was sent to arrest you, of course,” Induss laughed.
“By whom, and for what?” Carathan scoffed.
“You know whom,” Induss replied darkly, “and they say you stole something from them. I’ll have it now, and you’d better get a coat on, because you’ll have to come back with me.”
“If I had stolen something from them,” Carathan mused, “it seems odd that I should be headed directly toward the victims of my crime now rather than away from them.”
“Who am I to question the strange behavior of sorcerers?” Induss smirked, “I have my orders.”
Carathan looked back at Tanys and Misha with a sad smile. Tanys gave him a questioning look with a little wiggle of the blade still in her hand, but he shook his head negatively, and Induss pretended not to notice. “Misha,” he said at last, “will you fetch me the stone, please?”
Misha hesitated for a moment before retreating below to retrieve the glowing stone that contained the fires of creation. Tanys followed her.
“Who is Induss?” Tanys asked quickly as they descended the stairs into the dark hallways below.
“He is captain of the guard for the Abyssal Keep.” Misha answered, a tremor of fear in her voice.
“Is he really Carathan’s brother?”
“A cousin,” Misha said, “they were friends as boys, but grown apart. Induss must bow to the will of the Council, but he will see Carathan safely back to the Keep… after that, I don’t know.”
There was no further time for talk as Misha retrieved the stone and Carathan’s heaviest hooded coat before hurrying topside. Tanys felt helpless and full of rage, uncertain of what to do to help Carathan. Misha embraced Carathan as she pressed the stone into his hand. Tanys heard him whisper, “Remember the plan.”
Misha wrapped the bearskin coat around her lover’s shoulders and kissed him hard, fervently whispering, “I won’t lose you again!”
“Nor I you, my love,” he answered softly.
As Carathan handed the stone over to Induss, he gave one final order to the crew of the ice ship, “See to it that my friends make it safely to their destination. Serve me well, and I shall find you all and reward you greatly. Fail me in this task, and there will be no place you can hide from me.”
“Aye, m’lord!” was the scattered and fearful response of Cini’s former men.
Carathan climbed atop the winged monster and waved back at them as Induss buckled him into a smaller seat behind the saddle and then climbed astride the dragon himself. With a few mighty beats of the drake’s wings, Carathan was gone, leaving them numb and desolate on the deck of the ice ship.
Chapter 10
Deep shadows pooled in the narrow streets and alleyways of the Abyssal Keep. Cold gray skylight hung above, draped between the stark silhouettes of black stone buildings. The ruddy light from pitch torches perched in iron sconces on the walls glistened on the perpetually damp flagstones beneath Tanys’ feet. Her thin, beaded sandals slipped and turned treacherously on the icy stones. The dank air was dead and breezeless, but cold enough to bite through the thin linen shift that the ghast captain, Costa, had given her to wear. Beside her walked Misha, likewise clad, and they leaned close to one another for warmth and support as they walked. The captain, warm beneath his heavy coat, followed close behind them, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a coiled leather whip, that tapped rhythmically against his thigh.
He grunted once, indicating a particular alley with a wave of the coiled whip, and Tanys stepped into the deeper shadow of the narrow passageway, leading down into the darkest section of the evil citadel. Warm air whistled up the twisting corridor, reeking of urine and things long dead. Misha walked closely now behind Tanys, tightly grasping her hand. Tanys could feel the quickening of the girl’s pulse as they approached their destination and sense the unspoken terror of what lay ahead. At last, the ghast captain ordered them to halt at the base of a broad low stone stairway, leading up to a foul and rusted iron door in the otherwise featureless wall of a squat building of rough-hewn basalt blocks.
The captain rapped the wooden handle of his whip furtively against the iron, and a shadow briefly darkened the single tiny window of red glass in the center of the door.
A violent wrenching noise split the air as the door swung wide showering the landing with flakes of rust. A hunched and leering old ghast with wild silver hair and a grin like a starving rat framed the doorway. The ghast loomed large above them, stripped to the waist against the heat of the chamber beyond the door, long ragged scars laced across his broad, gray-haired chest. “Welcome back, Costa,” He croaked, “I see you’ve brought treats!”
“You still haven’t gotten that door fixed, Greck” Captain Costa muttered flatly, ushering the girls into the room with a wave of the whip. “Stand there,” he ordered, and they complied, moving to a section of the barren room near a large fire pit. Greck shuffled across the room, dragging one inward-turned foot, which he then used to kick at an enormous lump of furs on the floor. The lump moved, mumbling a curse, and from it emerged an even larger man. His short-cropped black hair and rugged features marked him as human, if barely so.
“You remember Tellac?” Greck asked of the captain.
“Keeping warm?” Costa asked.
Tellac the half-giant scratched absently as his filthy brown smock and grunted in response.
“So what did you bring me?” Greck muttered, crossing to room to inspect Tanys and Misha more closely, “Dancers?”
“Soft girls,” Costa answered, “they used to belong to my lady’s husband. She has no further use for them.”
“And thought your old friend Greck might find a use for them?” the hunched old ghast chuckled as he stroked Misha’s hair with his long greasy fingers. Tanys fought hard to contain her revulsion as he turned to her, leaning close to breathe in her scent. The reek of his breath caused her eyes to water.
“So it’s business then?” Greck asked sourly, “The Doctor?”
Costa nodded.
“Always business,” Greck sighed, grasping the front of Tanys’ shift with his clawlike hands, “Well, I don’t pay for the rags.” In one sudden motion, he tore away her dress, leaving her naked but for her sandals and the narrow strap that covered her sex. He started to reach for that as well, but Tanys quickly grasped the cords and slipped the thong down to her knees, stepping free of it. Misha stripped as well, and the two girls followed on bare feet to where Greck bade them stand, one at a time, on large metal plate, balanced somewhat unsteadily atop a low wooden platform with a series of carved ivory dials that spun as Tanys mounted it.
Greck whistled in approval as he read the dials, writing a number on his forearm with a bit of charcoal. Tanys hung her head obediently and remained silent, burning with rage as the old man slapped her buttocks appreciatively. “What a waste,” Greck muttered as he tallied Misha’s weight next, “You sure you couldn’t just leave ‘em with me tonight? I’ll see that the bleeders get ‘em when I’m done.”
“They go tonight, Greck,” Costa insisted, “or I take them to someone who can get the job done.”
“You’re cruel, boy,” Greck hissed.
“I’ll bring you a treat tomorrow, old man,” Costa laughed, “my mistress owns girls she doesn’t even know about.”
Greck’s haggard face broke into a yellow grin, and he sent the two girls staggering toward the far end of the room with a brutal shove. “Let’s get these two packed up then.”
Tanys silently resolved to pay the filthy old ghast another visit, when she could find the time, though he might not appreciate the sort of treats he would receive when she returned.
The half-giant Tellac stood before the girls, and behind him lay a tumbled stack of oblong wooden crates. Misha squealed in alarm as the man lifted her in his massive hands and lay her down in one of the crates. He placed a wooden lid over the box and then turned to Tanys. The fiery glare she returned him caused the brute to falter and flinch back a moment before his face darkened with shame, and a low warning growl came from his throat. Tanys smiled coolly then and raised her hands in submission before walking to the pile of old crates and picking one out for herself. She dragged the crate across the floor and laid it at the confused giant’s feet before climbing in and lying down within the rough-hewn box.