Authors: K.L. Bone
He
looked apprehensively at the table. “Once long ago, this room was used to…” he
searched for the word, “punish prisoners. But it has not been used for such in
more than a century. I have no idea why the King would want us down here.”
An
uneasy feeling began to settle over Sandra as she glanced through the silent
faces of the small crowd. She again searched for Darek, but the Crown Prince
was nowhere to be found. A soft click was heard and all eyes were drawn
to the left. A tall, pale-skinned man was led into the circular room, moving
forward slowly. His legs were shackled together and his arms were bound behind
him in thick chains. His shirt had been removed and his hair hung loose
around his shoulders in long, dark strands. As his face came into view, a light
murmuring rose through the crowd and Regald whispered, “By the Gods.”
“What
is it?” Sandra kept her voice quieter than the soft hum surrounding them.
The
man was led toward the table by four figures covered completely in dark blue,
hooded robes. When the table was reached, they guided the unresisting man to
its sleek surface, expertly transferring him from his bonds and into the thick,
silver chains. Once secured, his body lay taut across the table, the metal
cutting into the skin of his wrists.
The
guards stepped back as twelve more hooded figured entered the room, each
wearing dark red robes. Their movements seemed to flow as one as they stepped
forward to form a circle around the bound man. The four members in blue stepped
back toward the wall. As one of them walked past Regald, he asked, “What is
going on here, Kala?”
“King’s
orders,” the woman replied.
“What…
Do you have any idea who that man is?”
“Do
not insult me, Regald. He is the Captain of the Ciar Guard.”
“Then
what, in the name of all that is sacred, is he doing on that table?”
“I
do not question the King’s orders, Captain. I merely carry them out.”
He
looked back at the man chained to the table. “You do understand that they will
come for him, don’t you?”
“I
am not afraid of our sister court,” came the curt reply. “And if you interfere,
you will be chained right beside him.”
“It
might be worth it.”
Kala
met his gaze with blazing golden eyes, then resumed walking forward, eventually
stopping on the opposite side of the room.
Sandra
looked closely at the Captain and could almost see the color draining from his
face. “What is going on?”
Regald
shook his head. “He is Edward, the Captain of the Ciar Royal Guard.”
“Then
why would the King order him harmed? Will that not anger the Ciar Court? “
“Yes,
it will. However, I fear that it will not be the Ciar guards who will come for
that man.”
“I
don’t understand. Who will come for him, if not his own guard?” Regald either
did not hear, or chose not to answer as his attention was drawn back to the
twelve hooded figures. Moving in unison, they had closed around the silver
table into a tight circle and then as one, tossed back their hoods, revealing
twelve women with matching black hair pulled back with silver bands. Their
reflective, catlike eyes were a green so pale they were almost yellow with
black, vertical slits where a pupil should have been. The prisoner remained
silent.
Sandra
watched as the women raised their arms, each revealing the black handle of the
long whips that they had carried with them. Each of the whips had three leather
straps attached to the main handle with a sharp, triangular piece of silver
metal attached to the end of each leather strap. The jagged edges of each
triangular piece would tear skin from bone when dragged across the prisoner’s
vulnerable flesh.
Sandra’s
gaze traveled back to Regald, who motioned for her to remain silent. She turned
forward. Her eyes scanned the whispering faces of those around her, before
turning back toward the circle. She caught the gaze of the man lying on the
table. His eyes were jet black, the darkest she had ever seen.
The
room began to spin. Sandra closed her eyes to steady her vision and found
herself standing in a rose garden. Red and violet roses surrounded her,
climbing the garden walls to blossom in a beautiful cluster of royal colors.
The full moon was high above her, reflected in the calm waters of the pool
before her. She wore a thin gown of royal blue. Her long black hair was curled
in luxurious waves framing her face and flowing gently down her back. A gold
chain with a white, rose shaped diamond nestled at the hollow of her neck,
visible in her gown’s plunging neckline. A smile graced her dark red lips,
highlighted by the rouge on her high cheek bones.
A
man stood behind her. His white shirt was closed at the upper chest with silver
buttons that blended with the moonlight. The top of the shirt should have been
laced together, like something out of the Renaissance, but instead the silver
strings hung loose on either side, allowing his pale throat to lay bare to the
cool night air. He stepped closer to Sandra and placed his arms around her
gently. Her smile widened as a mild gust of wind sent ripples through the
previously still water, distorting their reflection.
The
ripples slowly spread through the water. The reflection of the moon vanished
and the pool changed from dark blue to black. Then she was falling, her thin
frame tumbling towards the dark night water. She closed her eyes, but instead
of water, she hit stone.
“Sandra?”
Regald’s deep voice pulled her from the vision. “You don’t have to watch this.”
But it was too late. The whips rose high in the air before crashing
simultaneously onto the man tied to the table. When they pulled back, blood ran
in long streaks down his skin. The prisoner remained silent, but Sandra knew
that he would not remain so for long.
She
searched the scattered pieces of her broken memories for anything about the man
chained to the silver table, but it was to no avail. She closed her eyes again
and this time, found herself lying on the stone floor. The stone was smooth
beneath her fingers, but also cold. She tried to rise. Something crashed into
her, knocking the wind from her lungs, keeping her pressed firmly to the floor.
She lay still for several moments before again attempting to see her
surroundings, this time raising only her head.
A
man and women lay upon a bed near the center of the room. The woman was
topless, her skin glowing in the darkness as though it was pale enough to
reflect the very light. Her long black hair hung around her in large, wild
curls. Her laugh was like sweet music carried upon a summer breeze; like the
ringing of bells that only angels should be pure enough to hear. She tossed her
curls to the side, revealing the man lying beneath her.
His
chest was streaked with lines of blood. A thin, silver blade was clutched in
the hand of the beautiful creature who laid upon him. Sandra’s gaze followed
the bloody lines from the man’s open chest to his face and found herself
staring into his dark gaze.
The
whips whistled through the air, pulling Sandra again from the strange vision.
The room had fallen to silence as the man chained on the table gave a deep
moan. Sweat poured from his skin, mixing with the ever increasing amount of
blood which had began to run from the table in a constant stream. She searched
her memory, but no answer came. The whips struck again, and this time, he was
unable to suppress his screams. Sandra’s heart cried out at the sound, yet she
did not know why. Another scream shattered the room and she had to resist the
urge to scream with him. She closed her eyes, but it was only to see the same
man, being slowly cut by the blade of a woman Sandra had never seen before.
The
whips again rose in the air. Without thought or understanding, she took several
steps forward before breaking into a run. Before the guards realized it, Sandra
reached the table and threw herself across the injured man. The whips crashed
against her body, cutting through her blouse and sinking into the thin flesh of
her back. Her high pitched scream rang through the room, echoing down the halls
before finally reverberating back towards her with an almost living force.
Blood
slid across her back, running down to mingle with that of the man tied beneath
her. Her back felt like it had been lit on fire. As a second stroke came down
upon her from half of the whips, the guards had moved into the next stroke
before realizing what had happened. The second stroke slid past the ragged
tatters of her shirt, pulling more flesh from her body. Her vision swam. The
pain was nauseating.
Regald
bolted to her side. “Sandra,” he whispered in horror.
She
heard his voice as though from a distance. “No more,” she said as the world
began to dim. “No more.”
Sandra
awoke in complete agony. The lines of ruined skin burned with fire from the
antiseptic which had been slathered over the open wounds before her back had
been bound in thick, white bandages. She started to rise from the bed where she
had been laid facedown, but then thought better of it as she experienced a
searing pain with the contraction of each muscle. She took several deep breaths
before trying again, this time moving more cautiously.
Slowly
moving herself to a seated position, Sandra found herself facing the deep green
of her fiancé’s eyes. At just over six feet, Prince Darek was a handsome man.
His skin held a healthy bronze tan which matched his sandy brown hair, just a
shade darker than blond. He wore a pair of black slacks with a long-sleeved
royal blue shirt that was kept closed with buttons of silver which matched the
simple silver chain he wore loosely around his neck.
“Sandra,”
Darek began. “What? Why?” He shook his head, but seemed unable to continue.
“I
don’t know,” she answered. “Darek, I really don’t know. I just… Is he still
alive?”
“Yes.
He was returned to his cell after you fainted.” A hint of anger entered her
fiancé’s voice. “You threw yourself over him and you don’t know why?” He shook
his head. “I know you can’t remember much of your past, but this…”
“Look,
Darek…I don’t know!” Her voice sounded strained. “I don’t know what I saw. I
don’t know who he is. I don’t know why I threw myself over him.” She jerked
upright, then regretted it, hissing in pain.
“Look,
stop,” the Prince said. “Lie back down and rest. I’ll send someone in to give
you something to help with the pain.” He stood swiftly from his seated position
and walked towards the door.
Sandra
sat quietly on the bed. When she managed to find a position that was bearable,
she attempted to close her eyes, but did not find the quiet dreams she longed
for.
Instead
she found herself back in the garden, the roses so vivid in her mind that she
could smell their sweet aroma. A light breeze slid across her skin, moving her
hair slightly in its gentle breath. She opened her eyes and stared across her
fiancé’s room. She could still smell the roses.
The
past was a forbidden subject, even in the privacy of Mara’s mind. Yet she could
not prevent her thoughts from wandering into that forbidden realm. It had been
nearly eight hundred years since Mara had first taken her vows, foreswearing
her life to the service of the courts. The day she had achieved the rank of
Sub-Captain within the Ciar Guard had been the proudest of her life. But it was
a rank that she would hold for only a few short years before tragedy would
force her to leave the court and swear the remainder of her life to the Order
of the Black Rose.
Garreth,
Phillip, Mathew, Brendan and Regald had once formed the core leadership of the
Black Rose. They had followed Mara without thought or question into what some
would come to call the greatest victory that any immortal court would ever hold
over another. Philip had been her second in command. Philip, who would forever
walk along the sparkling ocean sands in the deepest recess of Mara’s memories.
As
the limousine pulled up in front of the tall black gates of the Arum Court,
Mara ignored the driver’s rush to reach her side and opened the door to the
long, dark car. She had made this trip unaccompanied, which was unusual for one
of her rank and title. Yet, in this instance, Mara felt she should attempt to
keep a low profile. It would not do to voice her fears if they proved
unfounded.
Mara
entered the grounds of the Arum Court quietly, offering the two men guarding
the door a smile as she approached. “Hello,” she said to the two men in black
jeans and loosely fitted, long sleeved red shirts. “My name is Mara Sethian. I
am here to speak with Captain Regald.”
The
guard closest to Mara removed a phone from his pocket and called who Mara
assumed to be someone in the palace. A few moments later, he motioned for her
to follow him through the iron gates and into the doors beyond. They walked in
silence down the long, wide corridors, painted in deep reds and royal blues and
lined with famous paintings along the walls. Walking briskly, Mara passed
through corridor after corridor before finally coming to the darker, stone
hallways of the Arum Court Dungeons.
Dressed
in a crimson shirt tucked neatly into slacks with his silver sword hidden in a
black leather sheath, Captain Regald stood against the stone wall with a
troubled expression. His blond hair was cropped short and his eyes were closely
knit together. “So, it really is you,” Regald said to the Captain he had once
served. “I had half hoped it was an imposter, so that I could have cut their
tongue for lying.”