Alright guys, there's no way back now. Torture Session 1 is here.
Chapter 4
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
-Norman Cousins
Durza was observing.
The regular rise and fall of her chest, the brown strands of hair concealing parts of her face, the rebellion burning in her eyes, as she returned his stare.
She lay upon an iron table, arms and legs held down by gruff leather strings, but as humiliated as she must have been feeling, he could detect none of it in her eyes. They were much more than only emerald in colour, he noticed; he could look at them and lay foot upon the winding path into her soul she had constructed so perfectly, that he would be lost in a labyrinth of guarded secrets the moment he seeked to understand them.
The silence was so heavy that she hissed, "Let me go," and twisted in her bonds.
It was the first time that he had heard her speak… her voice was, despite the tone she had used, so melodic only an elf's could be.It irritated him badly and Durza turned on his heels so the shadows would hide the momentary disgust that marked his features.
The iron door of the pit suddenly shrieked in agony and two bulky men entered the room – perfect to the minute, he had to remark – and bowed their heads in recognition. He only nodded briefly, almost bored and let them set to work.
From behind him he heard the elf turn to get a better view of her fate, but Durza suddenly held no more interest in her. Instead he settled into one corner of the pit, leant against the stony wall and observed the two men's work.
One was attending to the wooden stand beside the iron table, inspecting the objects laid upon it: whips, clubs, axes, nails, the entire assortment. He eventually deiceded for two longer daggers. Their edges were dull already, and they wouldn't fullfill their righteous task anymore -- not that they would be needed for that. Durza had instructed his men exactly beforehand; she was, for the moment, the most precious mine of information the empire had -- be it in the matter of the Varden, or the secrets of the elves' wretched forest. he wasn't leaving the elf to the will of such primitive barbarians.
His eyes swayed to the second man. He was approaching the captive, and Durza thought to see the elf tensing considerably with each step the man neared her. He stopped at her legs and after a moment's thought, grabbed the elf's boots and roughly pulled them off, dropping them to the ground carelessly, exposing her bare feet.
Clearly, she didn't know what he had in mind yet. He saw it in the lack of emotion she displayed. There would have been… fear… anger…uneasyness, some kind of emotion, if she had known what lay before her. But now: blankness; no quirk, no twist. He knew that she was, just like him, seething with anticipation for it to begin, even if perhaps not in the same way…
The first man, a husky fellow with massive shoulders and a beard that might have needed a wash or two to dispose of the filth, came towards Durza, both daggers in his outstretched hand, displaying them to his master. Durza took them, inspected them, felt the roughness of the rusty metal as he let the flat edge of the blade glide over his palm. Holding the knives in his left, he murmured, "Brisingr…" and the dirty steel suddenly began to glow a bright red, as if it would have been retrieved from the forge this very moment. He could feel the heat emanating from it.
Giving them back to the soldier, who was ever so careful to touch only the handle, Durza watched him return to his companion and equip him with one of the tools.
Now at the latest the elf knew what would happen to her, perhaps not in every detail but most certainly she had a vague idea, and Durza enjoyed to watch the pit of despair grow within her, as the men approached.
The tension was unconceivable.
And then, as the red blades touched soft elven soles, Durza knew that he had just scratched the surface of his new toy, and instead of trying to repair the damage, his anger would drive him to break away at it until it was no more. But that was just a subliminal thought that was chocked as the sound of her scream filled his ears and Durza thought to enjoy it much more than he had her first repulsive words before.
She must have been suffering immense pain, and still she limited his diversion over her voice to only one single instant. Her back arched each time, and her muscles tensed to the point he thought they would snap every moment, tears washed away the grime of her face and she moaned and twisted as the agony found and infested every corner of her body – but she didn't scream.
And that irked Durza to no end.
So he let his men burn away at her until the scent of scorched flesh filled the room and the elf was soaked with sweat and trembled of exhaustion, until her muscles were too weak to revolt and her voice became so ragged and hoarse that she only whimpered slightly when pain was inflicted upon her. Then he said, "Enough," and watched as the elf closed her eyes in release.
He ordered his men away and instructed them to wait outside the door, before he left the protective shadows of the pit and approached her helpless form. Her breaths were laboured and she trembled slightly, cold sweat mingling with the shed tears on her face. But there it was again: Beneath all exhaustion and distress there was a faint shine of disobedience flickering in the depths of her eyes, as they followed his every move.
Stopping beside her feet, Durza demonstratively grimaced, "It is a shame, really, to harm such beauty. But…"
He traced a finger along her sole, savoring the heat emanating from the torn flesh. It caused the elf significant pain.
"… but it might have changed your attitude concerning my previous question…?"
"Why shed any more tears?" he took a step forward, "Why endure such cruel sufferings?" …lowered his head over hers, " Why all of this, if a single word could free you of it?" There was a glint of exitement in his eye as he awaited her answer.
She spit in his face.
He drew back, wiped it off appalled.
As if they would have known, the two bulky men entered the room again. Without further directions they approached the iron table and began to untie her. She was too weak to struggle against them this time, and when they hoisted her to her feet, she sagged against them feebly, limbs refusing to fulfill their duty after such harsh mishandling.
When he assigned the guards to return her to her lockup, Durza adressed his captive a last time, "Have it your way then."
Durza has some serious problems, if you ask me….
Anyway, now while some of you might be wondering why I didn't start with the what seems to be the routine raw-whipping in every story, there's a simple solution to it. I won't deny that whipping doesn't hurt, but there are several other more efficient ways to make people talk. Fast. And that's just what Durza wants. You see there are several nerve endings in the foot, and harming that part, in whatever way must hurt immensely. The other option would have been to denail Arya, but I honestly didn't have the heart to do it!
Oh, on another note… still searching for a beta. I just can't seem to find those mistakes and I don't have the time and the nerves to go through it until my incompetent eyes see them
Reviews (I'm ever so thankful!):
guillotine – Hm…yes, that would be an explanation, the only problem is that Eragon was only captured for a few days, and Arya's going to be Durza's guest for the duration of some months. Now I'm not an expert on elven anatomy but I doubt they have something like camels to store water in XD (but it's definitely funny to imagine!) Oh well, we'll find a solution in time… and update your story:P
alsdssg – And that's only the beginning. Just wait until Durza starts to enjoy it more.
Famous4it – There you go, here we have Arya suffering for the first time! There'll be loads of more torture, just wait!
Vixen Hood – Thanks very much!
Azrianiel – lol! You're so right, the world certainly needs more Durza/Arya!
