Chapter 3. The Rising of the Shadows
In the end he was forced to carry her back to her cell. She had endured the five hours of strenuous study without uttering so much as a whimper. During one memorable moment he had pulled her from the chair and presented a kneeling slave, which he then instructed her to scorch with the Burning Hands spell. Thorn had expressed her refusal by vehemently spitting in his face.
"She has a fiery spirit." He mused. "It will take time and persistence to channel that fire, but I will break her."
Truth be told he was beginning to feel admiration for the tenacious creature. Many times while he cut into sentient tissue, he had caught himself observing her reactions. The godchild's alabaster face had been perspiring and more then once she vomited in her lap, sick with horror. Never the less every time he handed her the knife or ordered her to chant a spell an unshakable ferocity like brimstone would rise into those black eyes and she would curse at him unmindful or uncaring of what physical harm it brought upon herself. Yes he admired her. She had courage.
Stepping into her dank cell he continued to hold her for a minute feeling the weight of her in his arms. Hesitantly he looked into her face. Thorn's complexion was white as the fairest china with only a delicate blush blossoming on each elegantly sculpted cheek. He looked harder. Some might say that her facial traits were too sharp, everything about her seemed to glitter in the way that steel blades glitter when held to the light. Her eyes were dark as the densest smoke yet reflective like pools of deep water, they were too dark, yes much too dark for his taste. He like faired eyed women... but who was he fooling? She was beautiful. There was an intelligence and perception written in her face that only served to enhance the natural charm of her features. Those eyes held an inferno of life, and cunning, and the longer he gazed at them the more he wished to lose himself in their radiance. Slowly he pinched a lock of her thick ebony tresses between his large fingers, it was soft and fine like sand. Last of all he gazed upon her lips, shapely, gentle, full, suddenly he felt himself breaking apart, shivering in the heat of an insatiable desire to experience what sensations they could produce upon his own.
He deposited her hastily upon the ground, his breathing shallow as he fled down the long corridor away from this creature that stirred such forgotten kindling in his breast.
When Thorn awoke it was to the robust clanging of her cell door. Her sleep had been like the sleep of the dead and she rose from it gasping for air, clutching her chest at every hollow gap in her pulse. She recovered in time to see the great, brown, bulky form of a gollum lumber down the hall.
"Wait come back!" Her voice was hoarse, as with overuse, and calling in such a loud tone jarred her vocal cords painfully. The humanoid did not heed her, but proceeded on its way. Thorn scanned her cell searching for what it had been programmed to do, and discovered a silver plate heaped with mounds of spiced meat, dripping with sizzling oil, and smothered in a type of mushroom glaze that had a lovely golden hue. There were vegetables as well surrounding the meat and drowning in its scrumptious runoff. The smell was vindictive; her mouth was awash in saliva, her stomach churned achingly. She had not had time to realize just how hungry she was. With a deep throaty growl she lunged for it. Just at that moment she was confronted by the imposing figure of her capture on the opposite side of the bars. The lock clicked, and he stepped inside closing the door behind him. Thorn bristled with a million needles of terror impaling her spine, and she recoiled to the farthest corner of the room shaking, her upper lib quivering in an animalistic snarl. The mage regarded her quietly, his face betraying no signs of emotion.
"I'm sorry for intruding. I see that you are still agitated from last night, that is unfortunate, but it will pass with further training." He advanced a step. Thorn's throat imploded, unable to breath. Seeing the hatred and fright in her eyes like sulfur he halted and decided not to come within an arms reach for fear of igniting those two passions and having her make a dive for his throat.
"Here." Thorn watched him set a pewter goblet on the floor, and step back. "Your medicine. A little wine to heighten the blood in your cheeks, you look like the ghost of yourself."
The woman licked her flaking lips, tasting the acrid vomit from the night before. She was so thirsty. Tentatively she crept forward on all fours, then snatched the glass from its resting place and embezzled herself back into the corner, gulping eagerly, letting the scarlet liquid run down her chin, each frigid mouthful soothing her throbbing throat. She did not know what it tasted like, she only knew its coolness and the relief it brought. Thorn felt him watching her and when she had finished off the contents of the cup, she glowered at him, with renewed vehemence, longing to spit in that distorted blue eye. Silently he placed the tray before her in the same manner as the goblet, only this time to Thorn's mortification he sat down cross-legged behind it and gestured for her to follow suit. She let out a laugh, a hard, splitting sound.
"You want me to eat so close to you? I don't know how I'd be able to keep the food down."
"None the less I think you had better try, because it is this or nothing."
Thorn eyed the banquet voraciously, but was still apprehensive as to his motives. Sensing this, the mage sought to reassure her.
"I won't lay a hand on you."
Far from satisfied Thorn at last complied out of sheer depravity. She bit into the succulent flesh letting the warmth of it fill her mouth, and the sweet juices coat her tongue. She ate like a starving dog, scraping meat off the bones with her teeth, and hands while her stoic guard poured more wine. He did not utter a word throughout the duration of the meal, but appeared to be enthralled by her appetite, or perhaps he was just enthralled by her. When her belly had swelled to its limits she licked the plate, and sat almost forgetting him while she basked in the feelings of being satiated. His cold voice startled her.
"I did not fully realize the extent of your hunger, or I would have fed you sooner."
"And I did not fully realize the extent of your madness or I should have never left Baldur's Gate."
"Yes, it was a highly dangerous endeavor to undertake, and an extremely blind one if you even thought for a moment that you were not under close observation."
"But why? Why watch me?"
"Have I not explained it in full to you many times? You are a child of Bhaal."
"Yes, but there are others."
"Many others, but you alone have the power to become the Lady of Murder."
Thorn blanched at the title.
"Lady of Murder? I? Never! I would never choose that bloody path let me assure you, thou fiend!"
"It is not a choice for you to make. It is in your blood, it is the building blocks of your soul." His coutenance grew torrid, and he stood knocking over the goblet, and spilling the remaining liquid onto the floor. Thorn cringed, and watched his agile form pace rapidly across the cell. "I chose you because I saw your capabilities. The murder of your brother Sarevok was a task no one could accomplish, but you did. You survived your parents, deaths, and then your foster parent's death you are a survivor Thorn, you act with the competency of a true offspring of Bhaal. If this is not apparent to you, then let me say, it is apparent to me and to many others, but I caught you first."
He had a crazed look about his broken face. Thorn could almost pity such a miserable specimen of a man if he were not matched with such sadistic deeds and words.
"But how can you profit from my ascension? Surely you can not think that I would treat you to any special honors?"
The mage looked at her with something that could have been described as incredulity. Your ascension? Silly girl, you do not even begin to understand. I am preening you for something much more glorious and much more profitable for me. A streak of something poisonous flashed in his eyes, Thorn shrunk beneath it. "You, and your sister."
She lashed out at him with her fists. The first blow hit him in the chest, which omitted a solid, yet resounding thump like a drum. The next struck him in the jaw, and a spray of black blood showered upon her face. He caught her wrists, but she continued to thrash, her vision blurred with tears, and salty rancor.
"You bastard! Where is she? What have you done with her? What do you want from us? You madman, you monster!" He appeared almost stung by her last piece of abuse, and his eyes took on a deadly hue.
"Monster! Yes monster! Come then my prey, you are ready for the next lesson. Come, a lesson in hatred, and may you break beneath its weight!"
He pulled her away.
A hole in the air shifted silently across the smooth, stone floor. It was a long hallway, and the torches provided little light, which only served to deepen its concealment. Its feet scarcely made a sound as they tread lightly upon the dry hall, walking slowly, heel to toe, one hand splayed tensely ahead of it so that it seemed to scrape rather then walk. Listen closely and you might note that it seemed to sniff. Suddenly the creature froze, its unrelenting vigilance had repaid it. A crimson sheen like the glimmer of spilled wine twinkled in and out of sight upon the floor. Slowly it stooped beside the phantom puddle, its hands began to move. For several minutes it labored at a tedious rate, sweat was dripping profusely from its forehead, and it had to bite its tongue to keep its teeth from chattering. At last a faint click was heard like the cracking of porcelain and the red disappeared. It stood reaching beneath its cloak to dab at its damp skin with a rag, hands shaking. Soon over a dozen more heavily bundled figures approached it
from behind. They surged forward over the now darkened highway like a river of oil. One of them wrapped a strong arm around the former and pulled him after them in great haste.
Next chapter is the escape from the dungeons. My own take on it, don't miss it!