Authors: Greg Curtis
Varrious' lie was a miserable deception. Maybe the foulest lie that had ever been spoken. But it had worked completely. It had trapped Terellion down here as his body slowly transformed into something hideous and pathetic while he was tortured endlessly. It allowed that foul bitch to have her fun with him while her sisters laughed endlessly. And it had saved Varrious' life as well. If the guards hadn't believed him they might have assumed that he'd been killed. And if he had died then they had their orders for the man. But they'd believed the thrall and so Varrious had lived. The guards hadn't torn him apart with harpy leather whips as they should have.
Terellion was beginning to realise that the furies were far more clever than he'd realised. Far more devious. And that they all needed to die horribly.
He was sure that the seductress had been deliberately teasing him for all those months before he had drunk the elixir. Leading him on so that he would fall into her trap. That this had all been planned out long before he'd been stupid enough to drink the elixir. The only thing he didn't know was why. If they wanted babies so much all they had had to do was give him the right elixir and he would have impregnated them all. They could have had hundreds. And if it was to punish him then why? He'd done nothing more to them than he would have done to any other woman. He was simply doing what was right and natural! It was what men were supposed to do. And in fact he hadn't even done that – just dreamed of it.
He'd asked them that many times and got nothing back. The furies still only spoke in their own tongue, and Varrious if he knew wasn't talking. He'd just laughed at him. But mostly the thrall said nothing. He just sat in his corner of the cell and stared aimlessly around. Moving very little Terellion suspected, because of the pain of his wounds.
“Time for what?” Despite his not wanting to know, Terellion asked.
“The end. Your end. The furies promised me I would live to see your end.” Varrious laughed quietly to himself while Terellion felt a chill run through him. After all he had suffered he was still to die here? In this stinking dungeon? And then he remembered he still had one thing on his side.
“I can't die here. If I die the entire city dies with me. Including all of you.”
“You mean that the binding when it breaks will destroy everything?” Varrious stared at him and he didn't look at all concerned as he said it. In fact he looked somewhat amused. The man obviously didn't have enough broken bones Terellion thought.
“I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure the furies have it all worked out. Especially as they aren't under anyone's control any more. Only Nemesis'” And if they didn't Terellion realised, he would die, and the thrall was probably looking forwards to death. He probably hoped it would bring an end to his pain.
“Dress!”
One of the furies suddenly hissed at him and handed his clothes to him while another started working on the manacles. Then when she'd done she hoisted him off the table and onto his feet. He screamed with the pain as his feet hit the cold stone floor and he tried to stand for the first time in a very long time. There was just so much pain as his overly wide hips tried to support him on muscles that had been brutally abused from the abuse. It was as though his loins were made of broken glass.
But he didn't have loins any more. Terellion looked down to see what had happened to him, and it was worse than he'd imagined. His belly was soft and round – but at least it was empty. He prayed it was empty. But he knew it had taken months before the furies under his castle had started to show. And just as it had been before there was nothing hanging beneath his belly. Just two short, hairless legs with far too much fat on them and not enough muscle. It was disgusting.
They weren't even his feet on the ends of them. Terellion cried out when he saw them. When he saw the soft pink feet on the end of his short, round, hairless legs. He was a man with long thin legs. He was on the tall side. Of proud bearing. And now he had legs so short that his waist wasn't even as high as the table. Hairless legs and tiny feet. How could that be? How could they be his legs? His feet? But even as he stared at them his breasts hung low in front of him nearly tipping him forward on to the cold stone floor.
By the gods he was truly pathetic!
“Dress!”
The fury yelled it at him again and then when he was still too slow started trying to dress him in his old clothes. But there was a whole new problem to worry about. The clothes didn't fit him any more. The robe was at least a foot too long for him, and it wouldn't stretch over his breasts or his hips. His child bearing hips as the phrase went. Terellion paled at the thought. That this foul flesh of his might contain something so horrible. When he got out of here he was going to have to see the healers soonest, to get a potion to make certain nothing inside him lived.
“Leave the neck but slit the rest of the back lengthwise a little, then cover it with the cape.”
Varrious made the suggestion. He occasionally made helpful suggestions like that. Terellion hated him for it. Not that in this case it really mattered that much. Maybe at the start when the worm had helped to hide him from the guards who might have saved him what he said might have mattered. Not any more. Now he knew he was trapped. Dressed or naked no one would believe he was Terellion.
Not since he'd drunk the elixir. And that was a mistake he cursed himself for. He had been so stupid. He had allowed his desire to be young again to overcome his common sense. He should have known it was a trap. That was his failure, and now he was paying the price for it.
The fury did as Varrious suggested and moments later Terellion was dressed in his old robe, even though it fell to the floor and then beyond. But one of the other furies tore the bottom off the robe and he was dressed. He even looked a little respectable when they draped the cape over him. He tied the collar himself since there seemed no point any more in not doing it. What he had to do was escape, and looking like a runaway woman of the night would not help him do that.
But oddly enough he suddenly realised that escape now might be possible. If he didn't look like Terellion and he had no magic for the priests to detect, then maybe, just maybe, he could pretend to be what he looked like? A pathetic woman. He could hide during the battle and then pretend to be a civilian in the hope that no one would harm him. Of course he couldn't escape whatever monster might be growing inside him. But the healers had potions for that so he understood.
Even running away was going to be more difficult than he realised though. He discovered that when the fury pushed him forward and he took his first shaking steps on his exhausted legs. They didn't work right. Not even as poorly as they had before. They were too short and too weak, and the pain in his loins made it impossible for him to bring them together or stand up straight. His sense of balance was off. And things didn't turn in the right directions. He discovered all of that as he fell to the ground. Considering that everything else was weak and exhausted from the abuse he supposed he was just lucky to have been able to get his hands out in front of him before he hit the stone.
Falling though wasn't going to save him. The fury quickly had him up on his feet and started pushing him again. This time he managed to keep his feet under him. But he wasn't walking. He was waddling like a duck. Bent almost double with pain. More correctly he was saddle sore, but he was the one that had been ridden.
The fury wasn't happy with his progress. She kept pushing him forward, urging him on, forcing him out of the cell and down the passageway. Just once he thought, the guards should have checked that the cell doors had been locked. But they hadn't bothered. Ever. They had to die!
“My bitch!”
His tormentor greeted him at the bottom of the stairs and suddenly wrapped him up in a happy hug. For a moment he thought she was going to mount him again then and there. But then he saw that she no longer had the parts and he knew a sense of overwhelming relief. It was over. That part at least. But then he thought to wonder why. Why was she a woman again? Was it truly over? Or was she finished with her manhood because her job had been done? Because now something abominable now grew in him? The very thought of it made Terellion shudder. But it was the only answer he could think of.
“You have my baby!” She said it with such conviction and happiness that he almost believed it was a good thing for a heartbeat. Save that he couldn't ever allow himself to consider something so horrible as good.
“No!”
He denied it. He had to. There was no way he could live with the thought that he had something so horrible inside him. But she kept smiling and Terellion couldn't even convince himself she was wrong.
“Yes. So happy!” And as if her words weren't enough to convince him she started rubbing his belly. “Good belly. Bad man but good belly.”
“Now up stairs. Wait and watch. Meet Harl. Then Nemesis.” And just in case he didn't get the idea she helped him by pushing him up the stairs with her talons digging in to the soft skin of his buttocks.
Nemesis? He was going to meet Nemesis? That did not strike Terellion as a good thing. But when he was already a woman who might be carrying a monster, was there really any good left in the world? The best he could hope for he decided as he clambered painfully up the stairs, was a little less pain here and there if he was lucky. And he wasn't lucky. Tyche had abandoned him long ago. The blind goddess was no friend of his.
Then another thought struck him. “I can't meet Nemesis. I'm alive. Are you going to kill me?”
It seemed ridiculous to be afraid of death after everything he'd suffered, but he suddenly knew fear as he thought of it. He didn't want to live like this – especially not if he was doomed to live in this hideous body without his magic and with something hideous inside him waiting to rip itself out of him. But he didn't want to die. He still wanted to live! To find his magic again. To get his true body back and regain his kingdom. And then to destroy all his enemies.
“Not me kill you. Maybe you die. Maybe no. Don't know. Only know you carry my baby. You bring into world nine months. Now walk.”
“Childbirth.”
Terellion whispered the word not wanting to say it, and the gorge rose in his throat a little. He didn't even want to think about it. Why did she have to keep saying it?
“Women have babies always. You try make me have yours. This much better.”
It probably was for her he thought. But at least she was an actual woman. And a fury. It would have been natural for her. Whatever came out of her would have been natural. For him it was anything but. It was an abomination.
At the top of the stairs was a small antechamber – in truth more of a short wide hall than an actual chamber – and at the far end of it was the door that led into the temple itself. The door that led to freedom. Seeing it Terellion knew an overpowering need to escape.
He ran for it, waddling as fast as his short fat legs could carry him. But of course there was no hope. There never had been.
“Ah ah! No run.” She pulled him back with an arm around his middle, and then forced him to the ground. Then she sat down beside him with her arm wrapped tight around him so that he couldn't get away.
She kissed him on the cheek suddenly, and for a moment he was shocked by the gesture. It was so painless. Almost caring, and he didn't know what to think. He was so used to her violence.
“We have time. Harl not here. Time think of name maybe.”
“Name?” But she answered his question by rubbing his belly softly, reminding him again of what he was trying to forget. He actually preferred it when she bit him.
“I Sarisu. It mean strength of wind. Good name. Baby need good name. Maybe Gorgon, first of gorgons.”
The fury carried on like that for some time. Talking to herself, rubbing his belly as if for luck, and completely forgetting him as she dreamed of baby names. While for his part Terellion just sat there, terrified. He didn't know what was happening or what was going to happen. But he knew he was trapped. Trapped in so many ways. Trapped by the fury holding him – she would not let him get away. Trapped by his own pathetic body which was now so weak that he couldn't run. Trapped by the enemies outside the city. Trapped by what might be inside him. Trapped and as far as he knew, about to die. When the High Priestess' army came crashing into the city they would kill him. They would kill everyone.