To Star####: I just needed a buffer between Seth's narration, don't worry, I was planning on writing about the torture anyway. I'm not a horrible writer. Just bad.
Hmmm. I should write something else here.
Chapter Nine
Warren glances in concern at Bracken. The unicorn is practically having a seizure on the couch, shivering violently and coated in sweat. His hair is wet with perspiration. Underneath their lids, Bracken's eyes roll wildly like he's having a nightmare. "Uh… you okay, man?"
"He's torturing her," Bracken gasps. "My god. He's torturing her."
At least this time, there's no handcuffs.
Kendra shivers against the wall. Her skin is sheening with sticky sweat, making her fingers clammy as they grip at the rock wall for support. She doesn't know where the next attack will come from; everything is dark. Dark and hostile. Jadium's laugh ripples through the shadows like a horror movie. In vain, Kendra tries to locate the origination. Her head whips around and her eyes strain in the infinite darkness.
Kendra leans back on the wall. From what she'd deduced so far, Jadium's torture room is vaguely circular, with rough walls and a low ceiling that seemed inadequate for the tall man. Along one wall, torture instruments rest on racks. Kendra is constantly tripping over manacles and all sorts of frightening objects.
Lashes from yesterday's whipping still are fresh on her back, and, with every time he smacks her, the wounds reopen a bit more. Kendra can feel the warm blood oozing from the cracks and staining her raggedy shirt. Well, at least this time she has a shirt.
Today, Jadium is using his own body. He punches Kendra, kicking her legs out from underneath her, throwing her, clutching her, touching her in ways that make her greatly uncomfortable, and anything else Jadium comes up with along the way.
A hand snakes around her waist, brushing against Kendra's open wounds. With a cry, Kendra feels herself being tossed in the air like a ragdoll. For a second, there's a sensation of weightlessness, and then, she crashes into the floor.
Everything hurts as she crashes against the floor, aching. Kendra doesn't bother to get up, going slack on the ground and relaxing on her cold deathbed. Blood from a past blow trickles down her forehead, a warm line tracing down her nose. The heat from her own essence sends a shiver of pleasure through Kendra. Heat. That's what she misses.
"Mortals, mortals!" chuckles Jadium from all around her. She tenses. "How easy it is to break you! You will be mine, Kendra. You will be mine, and I don't have long to wait."
"Nope," Kendra whispers under her breath. Her head begins pounding, like someone had driven a nail into her temple. The roar in her brain makes it difficult to focus on anything else.
"Oh, silly girl." Jadium's voice hovers right over her ear, causing Kendra to flinch. "You, sweetie, have more fire than most, admittedly. You're not giving in. Not yet. But you haven't been the first. Oh, there's been so many! So many little human wives, scurrying about. But they can't help me. Their children bear my curse. They cannot feel the sun's light. And the children of their children have none of my traits. My grandchildren are only good for little recovery missions, like that insufferable Matthew Green boy."
Kendra's mind wraps around that subject. She sticks it away to share with Bracken's horn. "You can't go out in sunlight?"
His lips touch to the hollow beneath Kendra's ear. Through her headache, Kendra shudders and tries to shrug him off, but one of his hands pins her to the cold floor, placing strain on her injured shoulder. "Why do you think I enjoy spending time in the garden? It is nostalgia. Our inability to stand in the daylight was the downfall of my race." His voice drops. "So that's why I start over from scratch, I why create a new genetic code. Why I have waited for so long for a girl who walks with the light to blunder into the world. You are to be the savior of my people."
"In your nightmares," snarls Kendra, slamming an elbow with the last of her strength into his muscly chest above hers. Brief jubilance floods her systems at the sound of his oof for breath.
"No," whispers Jadium, quickly recovering and scooping Kendra back up in his terrifying embrace. "In yours."
"Help me!" yelps a voice.
Seth's eyes flicker open. He frowns to himself in his grogginess, but nothing else makes a sound. The warm sheets from his cool bunk are all twisted up in his legs, and this phoenix-feather pillow is just so comfy… he begins to nod off again. The warmth overtakes him, and Seth slides back into his sleep.
"Help – help me!" insists the voice again, ringing through his room with abnormal clarity.
Seth bolts upright. His beige sheets tangle in his legs and cause his sitting motion to be jerky and clumsy. Cursing, Seth untwists and gazes around the small bunk. The sable cave walls are same as always, rough and painted with cavemen drawings of a wolf and stars. The twelve plain bunks sticking from the sides; they're not strictly bunk beds, because there's nothing supporting them but the racks stapling them to the stone walls, but there's one right above the other. Seth sits on the top of a high bunk, and the rest lay vacant. Well, all except one.
Directly across from him, sitting on the bottom bed, stands a tiny wolf pup. It's smaller than anything Seth had seen before, like the size of a poodle. Its fur is mostly a light charcoal grey, but, around his nape and crowning his ears, it brindles into bands of khaki brown. Two empty brown eyes flash with fear, and its paws skitter nervously.
"Help me!" the he-pup stammers in a desperate voice. "H-help me!"
Seth swings his legs over the side of the bunk, concern growing. Had something happened while he'd slept? The little guy looks so scared and confused, though, Seth feels like wrapping it in a big hug. "What's up, dude?"
The pup's eyes fix on him, and the chestnut brown pupils seem cloudy and unfocused. He cocks his head. "Help me!" he repeats.
"Uh, I got that." Seth frowns and leans forward, his brow scrunching in concern. "What do you need help with, bud?"
A shudder passes through the puppy's fluffy little body. "Help them!" he calls this time, shaking violently and backing up. "My sister! I can still hear her screaming! She's screaming! She was screaming! She is! She was! Save her! Save her!"
Seth blinks, taking in the pup. The more he focuses, the blurrier the little dude's features seem to grow, like he can't pinpoint it exactly. "What's your name, little guy?"
"My name?" The pup sounds confused. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and narrows his eyes, as if focusing. "Seth. My name is Seth."
A smile quirks at the corners of Seth's mouth, and he looks down at the wolf as friendlily as possible. "I like that name. My name's Seth, too. We're both Seths."
The pup giggles. "Yes, I guess we are." But then his expression turns agonized. He wails, "Help them!" and Boy-Seth sighs, starting from square one.
"Save them!" Wolf-Seth's eyes are as round as quarters. "My mum! My sisters! Save Swift-Song! She's blind, she can't see your bullets! Why are you shooting Swift-Song? I can hear her, Seth! I can hear her screaming!"
"Calm down," Seth soothes, hopping off his bunk and landing on unsteady feet. The ground is cool beneath his feet.
Wolf-Seth's lips prick in a silent snarl. "My mum, she said Daddy was going on a trip. She said Daddy would be back. Where's Daddy? Where was Daddy? He said he'd bring me back some stardust! I want my Daddy! I want my Daddy!"
The pup begins to cry. Not just tear up, but sob heartbrokenly. Tears roll down his muzzle like diamond rain, and Wolf-Seth weeps with his high little kid voice. It isn't a whiny crying or a sniveling crying, but more like a sad keening. Seth instantly moves forward to wrap the wolf in a hug before the first tear hits the ground.
Seth freezes, staring at the mist as it curls up in a spiral of beauty. Where the wolf's tear had hit the ground, a perfect splatter of red blood now sits, and it sinks into the earth, leaving a stain.
"I want my Daddy!" bawls Wolf-Seth. His eyes fix on Seth's, and they begin to glow with an unnatural light. "My Daddy! You bring me back my Daddy! You hear? Bring back my Daddy! My Daddy! My Daddy!"
Then, with a yowling howl that echoes inside of Seth's brain, the pup vanishes, dissolving into nothing more than a pile of dust that spreads in the wind.
A single tear rolls down Chaos's cheek, and he curls even tighter into himself.
Bracken. Kendra's voice appears in his head again, rousing him from the sleep he'd been nodding off into. With an exhausted sigh, Bracken pulls himself upright. The couch squelches in protest, and Warren glances at him disapprovingly.
"She's back," explains Bracken quietly.
The others disapprove of his lack of sleep. They don't really understand. But Kendra has been dozing off, always in a state between sleep and lucidity. And, as long as she has a streak of coherency, she can and will speak to Bracken. She's only fallen asleep once briefly, and Bracken hadn't had the time to get a bit of shuteye. Honestly, after the… what, four days of her being away? After four days of Kendra's lonely messages, Bracken's starting to become tired. Very tired. But he won't dare leave Kendra alone.
My god, Bracken, Kendra says, her heartbrokenness filling his chest with pain. He's not going to stop, is he? Every day, the same thing. Except he'll find new ways to torture me. To make me hurt. I'm scared. I still don't know why it's dark. And I guess I never will.
A shiver goes down Bracken's spine, a shiver of sympathy and of defiance.
Jadium is the sickest person I've ever met. Even sicker than the Demon King. All the Demon King wanted to do was kill me. Jadium wants to break me, he wants to destroy me, he wants to rape me, and then he wants to kill me. So far, he hasn't succeeded at anything, but… I don't know, Bracken. Please hurry…
"I'm doing my best," Bracken whispers, closing his eyes. His chest knots hopelessly at her next few words.
Then again, maybe you're not real. Her misery grows. Maybe I just made you up to console myself. Maybe I've been here centuries, and I just made up Prince Charming to dream about. Sadness grows. It makes sense, I guess. The Bracken I know is handsome, muscular, protective, funny, loving, charming, and a whole lot of sappy. Everything I want in a guy, all in one. It wouldn't be so silly to think that you're – he's – not real.
"Let go of the couch, man," breaks Warren's voice through Bracken's haze. Bracken looks down to see he'd been throttling the life out of the armrest. "Sorry," he apologizes lamely, releasing it and focusing on the one-sided conversation once more.
When are they going to feed me again? Hold up, that sounds pathetic. When do they give me more slop? Better. Better, but not the best. But, seriously, how long has it been? I'd happily take some of that slop by now. Is that bath-turd trying to starve me as well? Little bath-turd…
Bracken laughs. He can't help it. Even in a dank cell, Kendra finds a way to be just as sassy as her mother.
I hope you're real. I pray it. But I don't think it's logical.
Closing his eyes, Bracken sighs, his merriment fading as quickly as it'd come.
It's so cold here, Bracken. So cold. This time, he beat me using his own strength. He punched me. He kicked me. He picked me up and snapped my collar bone with his bare hands. It hurts, Bracken. It hurts so much. I know head wounds bleed a lot, but, one time, with his boot, he kicked me in the temple. Real hard. It's bleeding a lot right now, through my fingers. I don't have a clue about what I'm doing. Should've studied more medical stuff instead of swordwork, I guess, but I suppose I just figured you would always be there.
"Dude, seriously," calls Warren's voice again, "let go of that innocent couch. I'll get you a stuffed animal or something, but don't hurt Bessie."
One of Bracken's eyelids roll open. He stares at Warren as the man rises from the armchair. "You named the couch?"
Warren sniffs, miffed. "Bessie and I go a long way back. Don't tease her."
Bracken laughs harder than he had in days.
Fiona's paws race over the snow. The flaky white powder flies out behind her in a long trail, like the wake of a comet. The Soul Stone pulses underneath her throat, and, with every stride, it digs a little deeper into her neck. Other than the uncomfortable gem, the sprint is deliciously free and wild. Fiona closes her eyes and lunges into every step, speeding blindly over the ice until her feet are sore from the ice splinters and her muscles burn with protest. And still she runs onward, flying up the mountain like a god, each paw flinging her forwards and towards her goal.
Her goal stands atop a black crag with a smile on his face. Boro lifts his muzzle and howls in greeting. The musical notes of his beautiful voice cascade up and down the scale, like an angel's song. Panting, Fiona slows to a halt in the snow. It pools around her soggy ankles, and an involuntary shiver runs down her spine.
Concern shining in his lavender eyes, Boro jumps down from the rock and touches Fiona's muzzle with his in one smooth movement. "You're cold."
Fiona snarls, despite her joy at seeing her soon-to-be mate once again. "Of course I'm cold! It's frigging freezing out here! The frigging Himalayas! You couldn't pick Cuba, could you, Boro?"
Boro rolls his eyes and presses his body heat against her shoulder. His lush golden fur sparkles in the bright sunlight, tickling her boring chocolate brown pelt. Undoubtedly, Boro is the most handsome wolf Fiona had ever stumbled across; with large expressive eyes, broad shoulders and wide paws, proud facial features, impressive muscles, and a thick metallic coat that splays like someone straight from a she-wolf's fantasy. And he's got the best of personalities: kind, gentle, protective, and kingly.
"Why do you hate everything you touch?" he wonders aloud, shaking his head as they shuffle towards the rock. "You don't like anything."
Fiona shoots him a pouty look. "I like plenty of things. Cupcakes, for one. Cupcakes are good."
Boro raises an eyebrow.
"And chicken nuggets," continues Fiona. "'xcept not McDonalds chicken nuggets, because I want chicken nuggets, not horse nuggets. I like beaches. Like at Cuba. I like things that sparkle. But not too sparkly. I don't like disco balls. Too sparkly. I like severing the heads of wrongdoers from their bodies. That's always fun. Oh, oh! I like riding horses. They're scared stiff of –"
Fiona breaks off, gasping, as a wave of nausea passes through her. Her legs become unsteady beneath her weight, and Fiona topples forward. With a woof of surprise, Boro catches her with his great golden head. Underneath Fiona's chin, the Soul Stone pounds with another heartbeat, and terror washes over her.
Fiona feels feverish. She gasps for air as her throat grows dry and her lungs seem to ache with more power. The glow from the Soul Stone grows almost unbearable. Her legs flail, and, for a split second, her body feels on fire.
And then it's over, passing like a nightmare.
"What was that?" questions Boro with a shaky voice as Fiona rises to her feet with trembling legs.
Fiona's breath puffs out in front of her, making a cloud that drifts away. She watches it for a few seconds, four legs spread apart to hold her weight better and panting like a dog. Her ears hang loose and her tail is slack. Heartbrokenly, she looks up at Boro, and she whines miserably.
"I want it off," she whispers, leaning into his strong chest. Boro hugs her to him with his muzzle, letting her tears slip into his silky fur. "I just want it off."
They stand there for a minute in the white sunlight above, before, finally, Boro asks quietly, "This started when my uncle disappeared, correct?"
Fiona racks her brain. "Maybe a little bit before then but, yeah, mostly."
A growl of determination settles in Boro's throat, the vibrations rumbling down to his chest where Fiona picks them up. She looks up at him in adoration, and he gazes down with courageous love. "We'll get this figured out," he soothes. "Twenty bucks says that it has something to do with Chaos's disappearance. All we have to do is to find my uncle, and then we'll figure out why the Soul Stone keeps giving you spasms."
"Maybe." Fiona's voice sounds skeptical even to her.
"Maybe?" quotes Boro sourly. He cocks an eyebrows and shakes his elegant head in pity. "Maybe? So little faith in me. I promise you, Fiona, we will get this figured out."
Yips sound over the ridge. Fiona and Boro prick to the noise of wolves going bonkers over something. Some of the yelps are deeper and resounding. Others are high and panicked. One voice, the commanding voice of Thunder-Bolt, calms them down.
After his immense bravery in the Caelum Amplexu tragedy, Boro had tweaked some strings to make the playful wolf his right hand man. Thunder-Bolt had taken to the job of guardian with conviction. He's proven to be a good protector so far, considering his ability to pass the speed of light while sprinting.
The wolf silhouettes the distant ridge now, the sunlight flickering around his dark shape. He stands there melodramatically for a second, before taking a flying leap down the steep hillside. Four paws braced, Fiona watches in awe as the wolf practically snowboards down the mountain like a stunt double. The snow flies out behind him. Boro watches grimly as Thunder-Bolt picks himself up at the bottom of the cliff and bolts over.
The yellow wolf pants as he arrives. Honestly, Thunder-Bolt isn't a bad looking fellow. He's got more of a surfer-dude vibe than Boro's proud majesty, but he's got the looks. White markings circle one of his front legs, the forked tongues reminding Fiona of the lightning bolt that had put them there. His powerful eyes sweep over the summits like a god of playtime, but there's nothing amusing in his serious frown.
Thunder-Bolt sinks into a bow. "Permission to report, sir," he barks stiffly to Boro.
Boro chuckles in bafflement and frowns worriedly. "You never talk to me like your ranking officer. It's always, 'Hey, Boro, killed a boar yesterday. See ya tomorrow!'"
"This is not normal news," admits Thunder-Bolt. "This affects my friends. This affects my family."
Fiona and Boro exchange a worried look. A cold stone of fear drags in Fiona's stomach, and she shivers. "Go on," urges Boro, his voice betraying traces of Fiona's anxiety.
"Sir," barks Thunder-Bolt. He hesitates, glancing at Fiona. "Uh, sir and ma'am, we've just received word that the sister of the Child of the Wolf by the name of Seth Sorenson, our Soul's savior, has been captured and is being held prisoner in an unidentified location by an unidentified society."
A snarl rips through Fiona, overpowering the rage of even Boro's growl. She snaps her teeth together, relishing the smack they make as they clash against one another. She bares her teeth and brandishes them to the sky, and, beside her, Boro lets loose a blood-curdling howl. When he drops from the wild yowl, a rabid snarl rips through his body.
"This means war," booms Boro dangerously, lilac eyes flashing with treacherous fury.
So, pretty much, Jadium has managed to tick off almost every single of the powerful forces here: the Fairy Queen, the Wolfen King, the Soul Bearer, Bracken, the King of Shadows, and possibly one other.
Now, let's think about the little pup that showed up for Seth. One of Chaos's pup's names was Seth, right? And it definitely seemed a lot like a confused ghost. The one thing he insisted upon was that Seth should "Save his Daddy." I don't know about you, but that seems like what a little boy would say if his Daddy was in grave danger.
There isn't a thing in the world a little boy wouldn't do for his Daddy.
POLL: Fiona's got something going on with the Soul Stone. What do you think this could be? Why?
Ciao,
~wolfluvermh