Duality (9 page)

“How dare you. I was in the keep as healer, not whore.”

“What a waste.” He unbuckled his scabbard and hung it on the wall. “Foolish to teach women anything but cooking, sewing and spreading their legs.”

“Foolish of you to have no healers.”

He snorted. “Field surgeons for battles.”

If he was serious, she couldn’t imagine the death-toll in his own lands. How many people died of minor issues turned life-threatening through neglect? “What of sickness, injuries, childbirth?”

“I’ll waste no effort on a slave. Recover or die; they’re easily replaced.”

He truly was a monster. “You’re a fool.” Dara twisted in her chains.

He laughed. “Going somewhere?” He stood at the edge of the bed. His face lost every trace of false humor. “What’s your name?”

No harm in telling that truth. “Dara.”

He cracked his knuckles. “Who are your parents?”

“Rufus Quickblade and his second wife Fanny.”

“Liar.” He lashed out with a fist. The pillow absorbed some of the blow, but not all. Dara tasted blood.

“’Tis a simple question, slave. Who are your parents?”

“Rufus and Fanny raised me. Ask anyone.”

Those serpentine eyes watched her. “Fanny was barren, so who are your parents?”

She gritted her teeth. “Rufus and Fanny are the only parents I remember.”

“Your birth mother was Sheena Kahn Androcles. They say you’re her very likeness.” He reached out, stroking a hand down a length of her hair. It curled and slid betwixt his rough fingers. “Like fire itself.”

She shuddered at the expression on his face.

“You’re a whore and the bastard daughter of a whore. Now my slave to do with as I see fit.” He grabbed her by her right shoulder, twisting her arm until the brand was in plain sight. “That is how the rest of the world will see you from this day forward.”

Dara gasped through tears. Rufus’ training came back to her and she took a deep shuddering breath.
It’s just pain, not true damage. Pain’s our friend. Tells us we’re still alive.
She forced stillness, glared up at him. “No brand in the world changes the fact we were born free and we’ll die free. You’ll rule naught.”

“I’ll rule everything. I’m the sun in your little world, slave.” He loomed over her. “Know what you are?”

Dara tensed as his hand curled around her throat and slid betwixt her breasts. Just a little closer… She sucked in her stomach muscles as his hand glided lower. Her skin crawled, but she focused on the distance. Closer…closer… Finally! “The moon in your worst nightmare,” she snarled, arching up by the chains. She wrapped her legs around his neck and twisted as hard as she could.

It would have snapped his neck were it less thick with muscle. She groaned. Breaking a neck was a quick death. Strangling took a lot more strength, and time. Time for a skilled target to fight back. She squeezed with her legs, tightening her muscles until they screamed in protest.

She blocked out that pain, blocked out the fists beating against her. Sweat poured down her face. Her lungs burned, threatening to burst if she didn’t exhale soon. The blows weakened. She pictured Jalad’s face turning from red to purple, from blue to grey. The blows stopped, and her grateful thighs loosened as she gasped for breath.

Too soon,
her mind screamed, as his fingers dug into her upper thigh. Her entire leg went slack.

He rolled off the bed, wheezing, and his face lightened. Dara collapsed, her strength spent. She’d tried, and failed. She’d not get another chance. He’d kill her for certain now.
Lady, may another succeed where I failed. Let me welcome death with dignity
.

He staggered to his feet, hands on his knees, dragging in air like a foundered horse. Dara held no illusions about her future.
My life for Moira’s and the baby’s. So be it. Hold my tongue, I beg you.

He straightened and opened his mouth, frowning when a harsh croak emerged. He swallowed several times as his breathing returned to normal. His eyes targeted her.

She tried to look defiant, but ached all over from the beating. “Go ahead and kill me. Might want a bow and arrow, though. Getting close to me is dangerous.”

The last thing she expected was a harsh laugh and look of grudging respect. He grinned, a far more daunting sight than his rage. “I’ll carry your mark the rest of my days. As you do mine.” His voice was like crushed stone.

“I failed to kill you. Don’t make the same mistake.”

His laughter crawled over her. “Kill you? What a waste. You’ll be more useful to me alive. Who’d suspect a woman assassin? A healer knowing poisons. A warrior skilled with weapons and unarmed combat. A woman trained to be skilled in bed.” He smiled, an unholy light in his eyes. “All three trussed up in my bed like a birthing-day present. With proper conditioning you’ll be a most useful acquisition.”

Horror twisted like a knife in her gut. “I’ll never serve you.”

“Stronger than you have tried, and failed. Women have unique weaknesses you’ve never explored. I shall enjoy educating you.” His dark eyes gleamed in the torchlight. Something darker yet slid behind that look. “Anyone can be broken. Never doubt that.”

She swallowed hard.

“Much as the sight of you in my bed appeals, you’ll find your new accommodations more…persuasive. Were you ever down in the old dungeons?”

The old dungeons below the cellars hadn’t been opened in a century. Hengist’s justice was swift and sure, appropriate to the crime. Bodies languishing in a cell were no use to anyone.

Knowing Jalad, they were probably the first place he’d found after taking the keep. She gritted her teeth as he unhooked her chains from the wall and pulled her toward him.

“Never been down there? It’s full of interesting things. I’ve great plans for them.”

Her imagination ran from one evil to the next. She broke into a cold sweat and shuddered.

His eyes gleamed. “A person’s imagination is her own worst enemy. I’ve given you something to think about. Good.” He groped her breast and pinched her nipple. Hard.

Dara clenched her jaw. Tears stung her eyes.

“Since I’ve other plans for you, someone must take your place here. Mayhaps the kitchen wench. So young, so impressionable.” His eyes narrowed. “So eager to live she’ll do anything.”

Tegan. Not yet fifteen, betrothed to the young assistant coachman whose body fed the ravens. A child alone didn’t stand a chance.

Hopelessness pervaded her heart, but she fought it.
With life, there’s always hope
. Loren and Hani`ena fled north, Xavier south. Help lay in both directions. Loren would return. ’Twas no idle promise.

Jalad dragged her down the corridor to the back stairs, into the wine cellar. Down another stairwell into an airless pit. His torch made no impact on the inky blackness.

A short row of rusted grates barred the cells. He opened one. It creaked with sluggish reluctance, betraying the time since last it moved. Rusty chains hung from crumbling stone walls. Short manacles and chains coiled around a ring bolted into the stone floor, damp with mold. The cell he opened was as wide and long as the body of a cart horse and twice as tall. No windows. No light. No other prisoners for company.

Into this cold black pit of isolation he dragged her. “Best hope naught happens to me. I’m your sole hope for survival. I have food, water and light.” He ran a hand over her hair. “Remarkable.” His gaze seared her. “Serve me and this goes away like a bad dream.”

She spat in his face. “Never.”

“Never’s not as long as you think.” He wiped her spittle from his cheek with her own hair, yanked her to the floor and snapped the cell’s manacles around her wrists and ankles, then removed the first set.

Dara found herself in an uncomfortable crouch, unable to rise. She shifted her weight, knelt, sat down. The cold, wet stone beneath a sparse sprinkling of moldy straw got her off her bare backside in a hurry. Her hands were chained together, to her ankles and to the ring in the floor. The weight pulled against her shoulders. The iron burned to her soul. Without a waste bucket, the straw would soon foul.

Jalad meant to break her. He could do so without ever striking a blow. “Make yourself comfortable.” He withdrew and slammed the door shut. “I can take it as long as you.”

The bolt screeched shut with finality.

***

Dara lost all track of time. She trembled in her chains. Her limbs ached. Trapped in that crouch, all she could do was flex and shift; guaranteed to prevent any rest at all, let alone true sleep.

Jalad appeared at uneven intervals with water, but no food. He hauled her icy body against his warm one, whispered of hot food, hot baths and his own warm bed. “Serve me. I will make you great. I can give you pleasure, riches, power. Yield, and all this goes away. Do you want to die alone? Cold and filthy, forgotten in the dark?”

He went away again.

Her mind wandered. “Lady, protect my sisters above. You know I am innocent. I sheltered Loren…” She faltered. Where was he? Had he succeeded? “There is much I have yet to do. Save me if You will. Let him return for me or send another.”
Please, let him return for me. I don’t want to die here
. She swallowed hard and took a deep, shuddering breath. “But if it takes my death to turn this tide, then so be it. Just let me stay strong and true to this path, and let someone mourn me when I’m gone.”

Dara reached up with her iron-shackled hands and brushed a tangled mat of hair back from her face, noting her broken fingernails. She was filthy. She stank. She’d frighten children as a witch with her appearance alone.
I wish I was a witch. I’d summon a great bat or some such nonsense and fly out of here, to the first hot spring I find. Lady, I want a bath.
Her scalp itched.
No one should die with greasy hair.

Behind her, something rustled in the straw. She hissed. The rustling ceased. Never afore had she been so glad of her disaffinity for animals. How did rats survive so far from the warmth and light?

Unfamiliar footsteps, too light and quick for Jalad’s, sounded on the stone floor outside her cell. She heard the heavy deadbolt draw back. Rusted hinges groaned their protest as the door shoved open. The light of a single candle pierced the gloom.

She blinked. After total darkness, that single flame sent tiny daggers into her overtaxed brain. She turned her face away and closed her watering eyes.

A gnarled hand rested atop her matted hair. “Ye poor child. Rest easy, daughter. None shall disturb us. Those men dinna know I’m here.”

Dara peeked through a veil of tears to see a bent old mountain woman. “How did you get in? How did you know?”

“I received a message from one of th’ Lady’s servants.”

Had her mind snapped? “How?”

“A dream. Dinna think th’ One Truth now be th’ only power in this land. Remember, there be many yet who follow th’ once ways.”

Did she dare hope? “Can you free me?”

The old woman frowned. “That lies beyond me skill. I carry a bit of aid an’ a message from Her. Yer plea be heard. Another comes. Hold fast. Yer task be barely begun. This trial shall set ye on th’ right path.”

She pulled a stoppered vial from a hidden pocket in her robes. “This ye must drink by Her command. ’Tis vile, but ye must drink it all. Aid asked fer shall thus be provided.”

“What is it?”

“I be not allowed t’ say. Just that by faith in Her ye must drink.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Hurry.”

Dara took the vial. It glowed black-red in her cold hands and warmed as it pulsed with her heartbeat. Ancient, the angular rune inscriptions familiar. She pulled out the cork and sniffed, but no scent hinted at its contents. She glanced at the woman’s face and shrugged. ’Twas not a mortal’s place to question the Lady. Only through Her could this woman have snuck in undetected. Dara braced herself, tossed it back and swallowed hard.

Fire exploded within her, ripping the breath from her lungs. She screamed in her mind, but not even a whimper emerged. The bottle’s contents poured through her like molten metal, searing her soul bare. Time stopped. Blind agony. She writhed on the cold stone of the floor. Wave after wave of endless blistering pain. Her very blood boiled.

“Hold on, child.” An urgent voice pierced the bottomless void. “It shall pass.”

Black fire twisted through her, pushing this way, pulling that. She felt…a change. The raging subsided, left her shaking and gasping in its wake. Lingering warmth coursed through her, chased away the chill. Strength flowed into cramped muscles. Her entire body tingled with a strange awareness. She saw beyond the flame’s light into every corner. Urgent hunger ripped through her belly.

“’Tis done. Ye’ll do well, daughter. I must leave ye now. Me time be gone.”

Through conflicting sensation and lingering despair, Dara focused on her retreating anchor. “Blessed mother, wait. What
was
that?”

A disembodied voice floated back to her. “Dragon’s blood.”

***

Loren clung to Hani`ena’s mane, mostly recovered from the explosion of fire which had robbed him of breath the day afore. Now the icy calm of Cedric’s mind discouraged his return.