Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (35 page)

No one objected. Everyone knew he was right. If the Quy had given him the sword, branded with Choice, Chance, and Fate’s symbols, he had to try.

- - -

Bentzen took the knife from his belt and sliced his arm. Fresh blood poured over his other cuts, still throbbing in pain. He stumbled forward, weak from lack of blood. He had to find Ren. Then he could taste death.

It would feel good.

His eyes blurred as the thought of Tol, screaming as his small body was racked with pain. Bentzen had been desperate to find something solid silver, but there was nothing. The kettle at the fire was steel, his sword was steel, and his belt was made of pewter. He had nothing solid silver like the silver band Ren had given Tol.

Why hadn’t he noticed the band was missing when Tol came to him, crying from the thistles on the bush? If he had he would have known something was wrong. He would have demanded Tol tell him where the band was. Now Tol was dead.

Bentzen sliced his arm again. As the blade entered a previous wound, his vision blurred. He caught himself before he fell and stumbled back to his feet. He had to reach Ren.

Tol was dead. Renee was taken. Marva, her unborn …

Why didn’t he notice the missing band?

He kept seeing Tol’s bright blue eyes looking up at him, pleading for help. The convulsions had been violent, and when the blood had begun to seep from Tol’s ears all Bentzen could do was hold him, tell him it was going to be all right – lie to him.

Bentzen wasn’t really sure where he was going. It was hard to see the landscape. All he knew was the sun was to his left shoulder. He was heading south, back to the others. He had to reach Ren.

He didn’t deserve to live. He had let Tol die, let Renee and Marva be taken. How could he have been so stupid?

He sliced his arm again. He would keep punishing himself until he had suffered enough for his foolishness, for his vanity in thinking he could protect Tol from harm. But nothing would ever be enough. No pain would ever be enough.

He hoped he found Ren soon. He hoped he would really be able to feel the knife next time.

Chapter 19

Chris’ screams were finally silenced. Manda opened her eyes. Two Quar soldiers lifted the tent’s flap, dragging her brother behind them. Chris was unrecognizable. He had thinned to a skeleton, his skin was blistered and sun-worn, and the spark had disappeared from his eyes. If someone had shown her a picture of the broken body a week ago she wouldn’t have dreamed it could be her brother. The soldiers tossed Chris in the corner and chained his hands and feet to iron stakes. Manda’s own chains rubbed fresh wounds from where she had tried, time and again, to lift her stakes from the ground. The urgency to escape was now an inferno in her mind. Alezza didn’t care if she or Chris lived or died, and if they lived Alezza would make each of their lives a living nightmare.

Every hour of the day Alezza practiced touching the needles in Chris’ mind. Although Chris was now silent, Manda could still hear his screams ringing through her ears.

Chris rolled on the floor, still convulsing from Alezza’s internal torment. Manda could almost feel his anguish. The look on his face reminded her of when she had witnessed a death by fire, but this time the fire was on the inside, not the outside. Exhaustion was etched in every line of his face, as if his torture had been going on for years and not days.

His eyes fluttered open. Their brilliant green was now dull and muted, and the pain lingering in their depths was more than she could fathom.

Chris sighed in contentment from the reprieve. Anger boiled inside her. Their father had allowed this to happen. His death wouldn’t be kind; Alezza’s would be brutal.

Almost on cue, Bort and Alezza sauntered into the tent, laughing at some private joke. Although it had only been days since their father had betrayed them, it seemed an eternity. She didn’t know how much longer Chris could remain sane; she didn’t know how much longer she could watch his torture.

Her eyes found Alezza’s.

Alezza smiled as if in friendship. “Gag them both,” she said to Bort. “I grow weary of their screams.”

A rare smile stole over Bort’s meaty face before he turned to Chris.

Manda closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to the Maker. Chris couldn’t bear more pain this evening. He would go mad. Maybe madness was what Alezza wanted.

Bort drew a rag out of his doublet and kicked Chris in the ribcage. Chris had no strength to resist. His entire body arched from the force of Bort’s blow.

“Please,” Manda heard herself say. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

Alezza knelt beside her and stuffed a cloth smelling of horse dung into her mouth. Manda gagged as the thick, foul taste coated her tongue.

“Granted.”

Manda blinked back her surprise and tried not to swallow her tainted saliva. What had already seeped down her throat left a rancid trail that would linger for days.

Alezza gathered her long, luxurious hair from her shoulders before leaning forward and brushing Manda’s cheek with a kiss. “It’s your turn, my dear.”

Manda’s eyes widened as Alezza released a throaty laugh. A multitude of horrors flashed through Manda’s mind. She would be burned, beaten, gutted, or worse. Alezza was capable of anything. The heir felt neither compassion nor remorse. It was as if she was aroused by their torture. As Manda looked into Alezza’s eyes she saw only enmity and revenge. Alezza hated her, not only because of Manda’s own tongue but also because of her birth. Now that Valor was king of Newlan, Manda predominated Alezza.

A clamor of steel broke Manda out of her thoughts and soft grunts tore at her heart. Chris was fighting back. Manda tried to convey a warning with her eyes. Alezza would only send Chris more pain if he resisted. When his eyes found hers she recoiled from the severity of his desperation. He knew what they were going to do.

Chris twisted on the ground, straining on the chains. As his eyes flickered past Alezza, Manda followed his gaze. Alezza rocked back on her heels, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she watched Manda’s reaction.

Bort stood, naked, pulsating with need and leering at her with lewd, dark eyes. Manda squirmed backwards, coughing as her scream was quenched in the rank cloth. The chains gnawed her wrists, slicing her flesh with each movement. Even though her mind whispered there would be ramifications she continued to try to pull free of the stakes in a feeble attempt to escape the inevitable.

Chris’ screams came to her from a distant place, her own breath too heavy in her ears. The taste of dung and the smell of sweat made her lightheaded, as if she was looking in on another’s nightmare.

Alezza reached down to unchain her legs. Manda kicked in desperation. A speck of blood seeped down her throat as she bit the inside of her mouth. It augmented not only her fear but also her rage. She kicked harder, and though she couldn’t make out Chris’ words she knew he urged her on.

Alezza’s face twisted in malice just as Chris released a savage cry of torment. Manda ceased her struggle, understanding all too well. After agonizing heartbeats of painful screams, Chris collapsed. Without even glancing at Manda, Alezza finished unchaining her legs, patting Manda’s shoulder as if in pride.

Manda’s vision blurred as her rage heightened. She imagined herself breaking the chains and twisting Alezza’s neck, watching it snap like a twig beneath her grip. As quickly as the rage came, it evaporated. If she acted rashly Alezza would punish Chris.

The night was warm, almost stifling, and Bort’s massive body glistened with sweat as the lights of the torches licked the night air, giving no reprieve from the heat and casting ominous shadows around Bort’s approaching bulk. Her struggle had caused old scabs on her wrists and ankles to reopen. The biting smell of blood overpowered the smells of sweat and dung.

As Bort continued his approach, her life grew more and more precious.

Fates, she was going to die.

Alezza towered over her, letting her ebony hair fall around her shoulders now that it was safe from Manda’s contamination. Alezza’s eyes flickered down Bort’s massive form. “You may have her, but make sure she lives.”

Manda choked back the tears. Why not kill her and be done with it? She was presumed dead anyway. What did Alezza have planned?

The words Alezza had uttered days ago came back to Manda with blinding force:
“Why my dear, you don’t seem excited about having me as your sister?”

Blessed Fates, Alezza was serious! Alezza planned to marry Chris. She intended to be queen of half the Lands. If Valor told everyone they were dead and Alezza found them alive she would be revered.

Manda’s mind spun. How could Alezza force Chris into marriage? Sending him pain was futile. Chris wouldn’t acquiesce because of his own suffering. Surely Alezza could see that already. Did Alezza think Chris would relent because of his sister’s suffering? Although the theory was sound surely Alezza would know Manda would speak the truth, no matter their torture. Chris would rather die before he married Alezza, and Chris knew Manda felt the same. Her mind searched for the answers but none were forthcoming.

As Bort walked forward the grin left his face. All that remained was carnal lust. She stiffened, forcing herself to still.

Manda tried to turn her gaze as Bort approached, but her eyes wouldn’t leave him. He stretched his arms, crackling bones as if he were coming to combat and not rape. He was a huge man, the largest she had seen, with a barrel chest and burly arms. Coarse hairs carpeted his chest and shoulders, but when he moved pure muscle rippled beneath his skin. His short, black, curly hair brushed the top of the tent as he sauntered forward, grabbing himself as if to present a prize.

Chris fought to reach her, but she didn’t turn. Her gaze remained locked on Bort. Her whimpers echoed in her ears like a knell of lost innocence, lost dreams, and lost hopes.

After this her life was never going to be the same.

Bort’s scent hit her with the force of a brutal blow: sweat and dirt, horse and pig, sex and stench. She drew a deep breath of disgust as her chest heaved in panic.

Chris screamed into his gag, telling her to fight. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Alezza looked on, waiting for a reason to send Chris pain. His chains echoed in Manda’s mind from far away. All she saw was Bort. All she smelled was Bort. All she heard was her own terrified moans.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to remember anything about Bort when it was done. Something brushed her face. She recoiled, unable to help herself, but when she heard Chris begin to moan she forced her body to still.

She felt Bort next to her, heard him breathing, and smelled his stench. It seemed to last forever. Terror gripped every bone, wrapping its horrific darkness around her. There was no hope to cling to. This was her new life.

Bort’s large hands grabbed her around the waist and tore her clothes. He pulled the gag from her mouth and tossed it aside. “I want to hear your screams, girl.”

Manda lurched forward and bit Bort’s inner thigh. When she heard his grunt she clamped down harder, briefly feeling the elation of the kill.

But when Chris’ screams reached her ears she heard his agony even through his gag. Bort yanked her off and slapped her. The force of the blow sent her backward, causing her head to hit the iron stake. She felt one of her teeth dislodge. Before she could recover he struck her again. The hollow echo of the blows swam through the pain. Bort’s grunts of effort reaffirmed the severity of each, but Chris’ screams sent a terror inside her no blow could inflict.

The distant rumble of Alezza’s laugher filtered through the stench with a foul odor of its own.

Chris’ screams lingered in the night. Manda rolled on the floor, trying to move closer to her brother when another brutal blow landed across her jaw. She heard her bone crack as blood filled her mouth. She spit it out, gagging on the taste, thinking how ironic it was that she was grateful for her own blood. It drowned the taste of dung.

Chris’ shrieks succumbed as soon as she lay still.

She forced herself not to move.

The still air hovered over her, condemning her blood to dry quickly. She felt Bort’s heat and smelt his stench but couldn’t exert the energy to open her eyes. An impetuous laugh sounded around her, deep and vicious. A large hand stole over her nakedness, smearing blood or sweat – she was unsure which – along with it.

Then Bort rammed into her, grunting with carnal lust.

Her world was filled with agony, over and over. She didn’t hear. She didn’t see. She was aware of the blows, of the iron stake, of the groping, but it all ran together in a nightmarish quality, burning into one horrific memory.

She tried to think of other things, telling herself it was only an illusion, that she would wake at any time, but her screams were too much, the pain was too much to rationalize away.

The night wore on. In time she became as limp as a rag doll. From a distance she heard Bort’s savage cries, his grunts of pleasure and Alezza’s laughter. She felt the blows but they didn’t affect her. She was numb. She neither cried out nor resisted.

Her brother still screamed, but it was a different kind of scream. She knew they weren’t screams of pain, and she knew they weren’t because of her actions, so she didn’t concentrate on them. She only prayed the Maker would be with him.

She didn’t know how long it continued. At one point she turned to Chris. His screams had abated and he lay on his side without movement, eyes staring blankly ahead. A thin stream of drool trickled down his chin. Panic flooded through her.

He was dead. Alezza had killed him.

She reached for Chris’ hand and clutched it with fervent desperation.

His skin was still warm. An immense relief washed over her despite what was happening to her own body. Her brother was alive! When his eyes cleared and he saw her for who she was and what was being done to her, a low moan escaped his lips.

“Be strong,” she mouthed.

“Leave me,” he whispered before his eyes clouded over and he began to convulse on the floor.

Manda watched in horror as Chris’ face was washed not with pain, but with pleasure.