Chapter Four

A few hours had passed since he woke up. He was flat on his face, and unfortunately the floor he had been casually dumped on was wet. He wearily rolled onto his back. A mellow green light came in through the bars from the tiny green shaded torches. Something was tapping hard against the stone floor. What was it? If only he had the strength to get himself off the floor.

So, this was what happened!

He had been to the prison on the lowest level of the palace in Xoanan only once, but he wasn't likely to forget it. It was just as dark and horrible as he remembered. If he was here than that must mean . . . yes, she was there. He turned his head just a little to see her high heels on the stone floor. Her light hair curled around her face as usual. It was a pity. He was hoping that he would never have to see her again.

"Oh, poor Zelgadis-san," she laughed, when she realized he was watching her.

Her evil blue eyes were dancing with her words. He slumped his body up into a sitting position. It was painful, but he pulled his legs so they crossed each other. He could not allow himself to look helpless in front of this malevolent witch. He should have killed her.

"You have been sentenced to execution for what you did to my dear father. How could you?" she wailed.

Her handkerchief was in her mouth now, and it seemed that tears were flowing freely from those false eyes. She was just excited at the prospect of someone actually being sacrificed on the altar for her precious dark lord. How disgusting! The opportunity had not come up since her fetish had gone out of control, but now he had done something that was definitely worth a death sentence. He should have killed her.

"How do you like our dungeons? Certainly they are very different from the rooms you used to keep as our sorcerer. I suppose you're very sorry that you betrayed us now," she said, wiping away her tears. "Did you really think you could escape Xoanan after what you did to my father? Insufferable!"

The tilt of her nose was what was annoying Zel now; the way it tilted up. She strutted on the other side of those prison bars with complete confidence that he could not get to her. He had practiced hard not to let Martina's arrogance piss him off, but the intense throbbing in his head was making him lose his edge. He should have killed her.

"However," she said, looking down her nose at him. "We might be able to come to an arrangement that doesn't involve spilling your blood."

He laughed.

"How dare you!" she piped. "How dare you laugh at me when I'm offering you mercy!?!"

"Tell me, Martina," he asked, goading in his voice. "How were you going to do it? What sort of execution did you have in mind?"

She stamped her foot. "Everything!" she hollered. "Cut off your head, burn you at the stake, hang you, poison you, drown you, cut you into little pieces – everything!" she shrieked.

"Sorry Martina," he said. "It's almost impressive that your people managed to get me down to the dungeon at all. However, even though I'd love to cram your little deal down your despicable little throat, you must tell me – who else do you have working for you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said smugly.

"I should have killed you," he said darkly, forgetting for a moment that it was Martina he was speaking to. She couldn't understand how much he meant it.

She laughed at him now. "What can you do from behind those bars? You're not so powerful, if one of our guards can single-handedly capture you. I don't know why Daddy thought you were so special."

"Well," Zel said, pushing his hair out of his face and revealing a twisting smile. A guard, he thought. No, it couldn't possibly be a guard he had fought with. Martina obviously thought he had been beaten, probably by a regular palace guard. Zel knew the guards. He worked with them on several occasions. No, he fought with someone different, someone strong enough to catch him unaware and deal him a nearly fatal blow to the head. His head throbbed painfully as he remembered.

"Don't be so sure you've beaten me," he said to her after he had thought a bit.

"I don't see what you can do. Unless you agree to my offer, you'll die tomorrow, in front of the whole city. Imagine your precious face exposed to everybody. Can you imagine it Zelgadis?" she asked puffing up her chest.

Enough! He forced himself to his feet. He couldn't understand why his body hurt this much. He couldn't understand why he didn't mind. That woman . . . she crossed a line. He couldn't sit in that cage for another minute for her pleasure.

"FIREBALL!" he called.

After big rocks in the ceiling had fallen, hitting him as hard as they hit the object of his disdain, and he cleared himself from the wreckage. He happened to see Martina's black-gloved hand sticking out from beneath a heavy plate. He picked it up and absently checked her pulse. She was still alive – pity. He quickly considered his options and threw her wrist away. He would be a very sorry man indeed if he couldn't let a woman with a big mouth off the hook. He reminded himself again that it indeed was her only fault. He could feel that way now because his tempter had ebbed. Firing off that fireball really had improved his spirits immensely. He was becoming like Lina.

With that, he simply walked out of the remains of the building. His headache was going away already.