Maiden of Pain (17 page)

Ythnel stood,, ready to return to the others. She was tired, and with the edge taken off her injuries by the healing, perhaps she could get an hour or two of rest before they had to move on. She took a step, and a thought surged from seemingly nowhere to stop her in her tracks.

Pray.

It had likely been days since Ythnel had last performed her nightly ritual of prayer to Loviatar. She had lost all sense time while in Naeros's care and hadn't thought to ask the mages what day it was.

Going more than even a day without praying was unwise. The ritual strengthened the link Ythnel shared with her goddess and bolstered her faith.

Ythnel hesitated for a moment as she realized she didn't have her scourge medallion. The symbol served as the focus of her prayers, and a conduit through which she could channel the Power. It was an integral part of being a Loviatan, and Ythnel, her dress hanging in tatters that barely concealed her flesh, felt naked for the first time, knowing the medallion was not hanging around her neck.

Do not let your medallion become a crutch, Headmistress Yenael's voice called out from Ythnel's memories. It is only one means of focus. Anything can be used as a representation of your faith in the Willing Whip.

Ythnel scanned her surroundings. It didn't take long for her to find what she needed. She strode over to one of the rough-barked trees nearby. Standing on her toes, Ythnel reached up and grabbed one of the bare branches. She tested several of the thin offshoots, bending them this way and that until she found a suitable one of the right length. She twisted the piece off near its base and came away with a switch just shy of a foot long.

Kneeling once more, Ythnel began her chant, the rhythms punctuated with a swat of the stick over her shoulder or around her side. Each small sting brought euphoria, a sense of closeness to her goddess that made her swell inside. The connection continued to grow stronger, and Ythnel felt herself being pulled away somehow, detaching from her physical body and slowly drifting higher and higher.

The sun shone brightly upon the white stones of the courtyard. Ythnel thought she recognized the buildings that surrounded her, crammed together so they looked as though they were simply one expansive unit. The flat roofs reflected the light in such a way that all the edges of the structures were blurred, even when Ythnel squinted.

Gazing at the stairs in front of her that lead to a nondescript wooden door, Ythnel realized she was standing before the entrance to Master Saelis's home. Somehow, she was back in Luthcheq. The thought did not disturb her and quickly flitted away. It seemed as natural as the eerie silence she now noticed: in the center of a bustling city of tens of thousands, not a sound carried in the air or echoed off the buildings.

Ythnel turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped inside without hesitation.

"Master Saelis? Iuna?" Even before the echoes of her call died out, Ythnel new the house was empty except for herself and the furniture. She glanced around the living room. Everything looked as she remembered, except that all the edges seemed fuzzy. Ythnel blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, thinking they were still adjusting from the brilliance outside. She looked again, but nothing had changed... besides the fact that she was no longer alone in the house.

Headmistress Yenael stood by the marble fireplace in her buffed leather bodysuit, tapping her palm with the handle of a scourge. Next to her hung Naeros Karanok in nothing but his skin. Chains suspended him above the floor by wrist and ankle. When Ythnel eyes followed the chains up, she saw them disappear into a cloudy, black void that spread out to cover where the ceiling should have been.

"Show me."

Ythnel brought her eyes back down to see Headmistress Yenael holding the end of the scourge handle out to her. Only, it wasn't the headmistress's voice Ythnel had heard. It was Iuna's.

"I-I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." Headmistress Yenael's lips moved, but the voice was definitely that of the little girl Ythnel had been hired to care for. "It is your turn, now, Ythnel. Take the scourge. Do not disappoint me."

Ythnel didn't move. It was as if she were thirteen again, back in the dungeons below the manor in Bezantur. The same emotions, the same doubts, threatened to overwhelm her.

No, this was different, she told herself. This time pain and suffering was deserved. This time she wanted to do it.

Ythnel reached for the scourge, and it instantly appeared in her hand. She flexed her grip on the handle, feeling the comfort of its weight, the precision of its balance. She bounced it lightly, untangling the leather tongues. Moving to Naeros's side, Ythnel bent over so her lips brushed against his ear.

"Let's play." She flicked her wrist, and the scourge shot out like lightning. Naeros screamed.

The constant ringing of a hand bell brought Ythnel's eyes open with a flutter. She was on her knees, her arms clutched to her chest, rocking back and forth from the waist up. She stopped, disoriented, and tried to get her bearings. Movement in the gloom ahead of her coalesced into the charging form of a large crocodile nearly twenty feet long. Its clawed fleet churned up the bog as it ran toward her. The fog in her mind instantly became crystal clarity. She rocked back on her heels, scooting on her hands and feet in a frantic scramble to get out of the path of the monstrosity that was closing on, her, its toothy maw snapping in anticipation. With a hiss, it made a lunge at her, but Ythnel rolled to her left, came to her feet, and sprinted back toward the mages.

"Wake up! Wake up!" she screamed as she ran. She could see they were already stirring, probably alerted by the alarms Kestus had set. As Ythnel reached them, more scaly, gray-green shapes came slithering out. of the murk. Their long, pointy snouts and ridged backs tapered into powerful tails that whipped side to side as they stalked closer.

"We have to get out of here," Ythnel ordered. She helped the groggy mages stand and pushed them along ahead of her, away from the approaching crocodiles. "I'll try to slow them down a little." Focusing on the switch she still held, Ythnel called out to Loviatar for aid. "Willing Whip, send us help."

The air between Ythnel and the pursuing crocodiles began to shimmer. Motes of red light appeared and separated into three different groupings a few inches above the ground. The motes collected until each group was about three feet high; then they began to stretch out and merge. When all the motes in one group had finally merged into a single globe, they faded away to reveal a fiendish-looking rat the size of a dog. Their eyes glowed red and their black, bristly hair stood on end like quills.

Before Ythnel could utter a command, the three summoned rats launched themselves at the nearest crocodile. One rat was snatched in midair by the monster and crushed with a squeak in the reptile's powerful jaws. However, as the crocodile tried to swallow the rat, it disappeared in a cloud of red motes that winked out one by one.

The remaining two rats landed on the back of the crocodile, their claws and teeth seeking purchase amongst the scaly bumps. The crocodile tried to shake them loose, but they were firmly attached. The huge reptile roared in frustration, and his call was answered by two more crocodiles that appeared out of the mists to flank him. With deadly efficiency, the two crocs picked the rats off their fellow's back, flinging them up into the air and catching them in open mouths. Red motes floated away when their mouths snapped shut.

Ythnel was stunned. The rats' losing the battle was not astonishing. She hadn't expected them to actually defeat any of the crocodiles; they had been meant only to delay the giant reptiles long enough for Ythnel and the mages to escape. What surprised her, and sent a chill down her spine, was the intelligence the crocodiles had exhibited in dispatching the rats. Even now, she thought she could see the gleam of something unnatural in their eyes.

Now was not the time to ponder the source of that intelligence, however. Ythnel turned to follow the mages and ran right into their backs.

"What are you doing?" Ythnel looked up and saw three more of the giant crocodiles approaching. They were surrounded. "Painbringer's touch! What do we do now?"

"Let me handle this." Brother Crocodile stepped away from the group, and the crocodiles paused, their heads turning to follow. The tall, lanky mage shuddered and let out a low moan. Ythnel gasped as his nose and chin began to stretch out and widen. His hands and feet bent into wicked claws, while his arms and legs retracted until they were little more than thick stumps protruding from his torso. The mage's skin mottled, turning from smooth pink to bumpy green. His entire body swelled, the weight seeming to drive him to the ground. As he landed on all fours, a ridged tail grew from his rear, extending more than three feet long.

"A werecrocodile," Kestus breathed. "So the stories are true."

"What do we do now?" Muctos asked, looking to Kestus.

Before he could answer, the crocodiles began hissing and coughing at each other. One charged Brother Crocodile, its mouth agape, but the former mage did not back down. He snapped his jaws inches from the challenger's snout. With a warbling chirp, the challenger backed away, its snout lifted in the air, signaling its surrender. Brother Crocodile turned to Ythnel and the mages and transformed back into a man.

"Do not be alarmed. These are my brothers." He looked at each of them, searching. As if on cue, the crocodile that had challenged Brother Crocodile reared up on its hind legs. Its snout began to shorten, and the color of its scales shifted from dark green to pale pink, the rough, bumpy hide becoming smooth. Eyes that were on the side of the head swam to the middle. Arms and legs lengthened, while the tail shrank until it disappeared entirely. In seconds, a lanky, naked man with a thin face dominated by a long nose and chin stood where the scaly monster once was.

Kestus turned to Brother Crocodile. "Who are you?" Kestus asked.

"My name is Kohtakah. I am the Royal Sorcerer to Lord Mulkammu, High Priest of Sebek."

"What is going, to happen to us?" Ythnel asked.

"My brothers and I will escort you to our city. I promise you will not be harmed."

"Why should we believe you?" Kestus sneered.

"I can understand how you feel. This must seem like I am betraying you, but I am not."

"And how is this not a betrayal? You infiltrated us, and now you are handing us over to be taken as prisoners."

"No, that is not how it is. I was sent to find help for my people. You will be honored as heroes. You must trust me. Everything will turn out fine."

"What if we refuse?" Kestus asked.

Kohtakah sighed. "I'm afraid you do not have that choice."

CHAPTER

Morning brought dull, gray skies and a chil wind that rattled gnarled branches and swirle( the fog covering the surface of the brackish ankle-high water that Ythnel and the maget trudged through. Steered by the werecroco diles, they had left behind the bogs and now traveled directly across an expanse of liquic filth. Ythnel's skin had stopped crawling at the oily touch of the water hours ago; extended exposure to the cold had numbed her from the calves down.

A small splash to her left reminded her that the two werecrocodiles in human form were not their only escort. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of two bumps, each about the size of an authokh, floating just above the waterline, but usually ripples were the only

sign that their captors' brethren were keeping pace.

A wave of nausea rolled up from Ythnel's stomach, and her legs suddenly grew weak. She stumbled into the water face-first but caught herself on her hands and knees before falling fully in. Muctos, who had been marching behind her, stooped to help her up, but she pushed him away.

"What's going on?" The werecrocodile who had been at the rear strode up to Ythnel.

"I'm hungry," Ythnel said, her head still hanging down. "I haven't eaten in.. I don't know how long. I'm not going anywhere until I get some food." She slowly raised her head, defiance in her eyes. Muctos was looking at her with eyes wide. He mouthed something, but she couldn't understand.

"You wait here." The werecrocodile moved to speak with Kohtakah, the mage they had known as Brother Crocodile, at the front of the group.

"What are you up to?" Muctos asked in a harsh whisper. Before Ythnel could answer, the werecrocodile returned.

"We don't stop until we get to the city. You"—He indicated Muctos.—"carry her." The heavyset mage frowned but helped Ythnel up then turned and offered her his back. She hopped on, looping her arms around his shoulders as he hooked his arms under her knees. The march resumed.

For the next few hours, Ythnel was passed between the mages; her weight was too much of a burden for any one of them to carry for too long. It slowed the group's progress until finally Kohtakah brought them to a halt. As though responding to some unseen signal, one of the submerged werecrocodiles reared up in a spray of water and transformed into its human shape. Kohtakah pointed at Ythnel, and the other took her from Muctos, slinging her over its shoulder so that she had a perfect view of his naked rear.

When the sky began to darken once again, the group found themselves at the edge of the river. Here the current was stronger, the water not as murky. Ythnel could see groupings of trees that marked the far bank several hundred yards away. To the north, an island sat in the mouth of the river. The island was covered in half-sunken ruins. Pillars of dried mud-brick leaned precariously, threatening to topple over and disappear beneath the surface of the swamp. With the crumbling archways and broken walls, it looked to Ythnel like a long-neglected graveyard.

"Is this your city?" Muctos asked.

"Yes," Kohtakah said, either missing or ignoring the obvious incredulity that laced the mage's question. "We will cross the river here." The werecrocodile that was carrying Ythnel set her down and proceeded to change back into his reptile form. As the transformation completed, he slithered into the water.

"How? I don't see any boats or ferries," Muctos noted. "You aren't expecting us to swim across, are you?" Ythnel hoped not. Even in the sluggish current, she knew she didn't have the strength and would likely get swept out into the bay.