Chapter 2:
You know the drill with the disclaimer thingy. By the way, reviews are très appreciated and let me know whether I should keep going on this or not. I'm sorry I didn't get this up sooner. But I was in Seattle and then in the Carribean and life has been hectic.

Dilandau strode down the hall quickly, knocking people out of the way as he passed and delighting in the satisfying thud they all made when they hit the ground. Silence followed him, silence which he knew was filled with seething glares, but none dared to question him or stand up to him, and so none spoke. His heart beat with a familiar anticipation: The sooner he got to Folken the sooner he found out why she was here/ The sooner he could find out what the sorcerers would do with her if she were useful. The sooner he could kill her if she turned out to be useless. The next hallway he turned down was empty and silent but for the soft click of his boots on the hard floor, and his pace quickened to reach the door at the end of the corridor.

Suddenly he stopped as a pair of blue eyes caught his from behind a door that stood slightly ajar. Darkness poured out of the opening, darkness except for the bright orbs that stared back at him. Dilandau growled softly, more out of exasperation than of anger; she was always appearing!

How many times have I told you to stay away from me? He whispered, slipping into the room silently and shutting the door gently behind him.

Quite a few. Replied the soft, feminine voice, the owner of which was now looking out of the window at the opposite end of the room. But I have to make sure, for your sake as well as mine.

Dilandau snorted derisively. Of course it's for my sake as well as yours. He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. If I'm caught, you die, or at least that body of yours wi—

Believe it or not Dilandau, The calm voice interrupted him. I do care about what happens to y—

He cut her off roughly. If we weren't still unfortunately connected you would have left months ago, but instead you stick around, to much of a coward to leave, just to make sure you won't suddenly find yourself dead, or worse, trapped in me.

Her head snapped to look at him, and she knew her eyes held her fear. Anybody's would, though. She thought, recalling the pieces of her past she had blocked from her mind. With the prospect of living through him, in him, under his control, who wouldn't be afraid?

Dilandau walked back to the door and eased it open, listening first to see if anybody was outside. Don't talk to me anymore, Celena. How he hated calling somebody so weak by their first name, but it was hard not to, so long had she been with him. He walked out without letting her say anything else and shut the door again softly, though he longed to slam it and break it into a million tiny fragments.

Celena continued to stand there by the window, staring at the door he had left through, and it took her a moment to realize that she hadn't managed to tell him what she had been meaning to.

°§°

The first thing Karina became aware of when she awoke was her head. Pounding away in painful abandon, the slightest movement was torture. God, this is worse than a hangover. She thought unhappily, wincing because even coherent thought hurt. The second thing she became conscious of was her stomach, and the extreme nausea that was brewing there. Frantically, ignoring the agony in her head, she sat up and looked around for somewhere—anywhere—to throw up that she wouldn't have to smell it. But, it being only a temporary holding cell and therefore without facilities, Karina settled for the corner farthest from where she was.

When the heaving of her stomach finally ceased, her headache had receded enough for her to take in her surroundings. She was in a large cell, with solid, black walls and no windows to see out of. Several vents dotted the ceiling, each no larger than her fist and well-sealed, so that only air would be able to get in or out.

Holy shit. She thought incredulously, staring around her prison in amazement. I'm in fucking solitary confinement.

Karina continued to examine the walls, feeling for any crack or crevice that could mean her escape. There was nothing, as she had suspected there would be, and she began to pace, plans and ideas running through her head that would rip like fly paper were they actually put to the test.

At the sound of the door opening she stopped and turned, hardly daring to breathe. She didn't know what they were planning to do with her, nor did she want to know so soon. A young man walked through the door, his curly platinum hair just covering one of his turquoise eyes. Karina breathed a sigh of relief; for a moment she had thought it would be the other one. The one with the eyes.

Turn around. He ordered, pulling out a thick metal link and looking at her with emotionless eyes. Knowing it was useless to disobey Karina turned; she didn't say a word as the link was brutally forced over bother her hands, or even gasp as the metal molded to the shape of her wrist, sliding over the contours of her skin in cool, steel tentacles.

He led her outside the cell without speaking to her again, simply nudging her down the corridor and shutting the cell door behind them. They continued down hallway after hallway, Karina in the front, the soldier behind; clearly they didn't trust her after the little incident in the woods. They had every right not to trust her.

In the middle of a particularly deserted corridor she stumbled, her shoe catching on the smooth floor, and she winced at the sound her cheek made as it struck the floor. As quickly as she could she slid her legs through her arms so the link was now in front and curled into a ball, allowing a few tears to trickle down her cheeks.

The soldier bent down to examine her, checking her head for any injuries, and realized his mistake only a bare second before the heavy metal link came crashing into the side of his head.

Karina scrambled to her feet, bending quickly to make sure he was alive, and ran down the hall, frantically hunting for a way out. This place is huge! She thought, mentally cursing its architect. Rounding the next corner she saw light; real, honest-to-goodness, straight from the sun, light. Relief spread across Karina's face as she picked up her pace, running to her salvation with renewed vigor. She continued in her headlong sprint, through the open double doors to her freedom—and skidded to a halt as the sunlight poured down onto her face.

Slowly Karina turned around and began walking back the way she had come, though she didn't remember exactly which way that was. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care; it wasn't like it mattered at all. She was on a floating fortress, a mass of floating stone and wood, suspended like a mobile in the sky. She was trapped. Completely, totally, and utterly trapped. It was the first time in her life Karina had ever been left with no way out.

She kept walking, hardly seeing the three soldiers sent to find her, barely noticing the link that was clamped over her wrists, uncaring of where they were leading her. She didn't even come back to reality until a heavy pair of double doors opened in front of her and she looked up into two crimson eyes.

°§°

Dilandau's eyes snapped to the doorway as the prisoner was led in, fury radiating from his every pore. He watched her walk into the room, imagining the tortures he would put her through were she not hell, he might just fuck the rules and put her through them anyway, keeping her alive of course. One can't have important prisoners from the Mystic Moon dying, after all. He thought, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. His delight at the thought of torturing her did not last though, as he thought of what she had done to two soldiers. Two of his Dragonslayers. The elite, the golden, perfection itself, trained personally by the best general ever to walk Gaea. Two had been bested by a mere slip of a girl. And now he didn't get to kill her. Didn't get to watch her face as she fought for air, struggled to survive, didn't get to see the struggle fail and the film of death slide over her eyes. He glared at her gain, wishing to kill her, rip her apart. At least she had a bruise.

Do you know why you are here, girl? Dilandau's eyes flicked up as his thoughts were interrupted. The speaker was half hidden in shadow, sitting on a throne in the middle of the room.

Came the clipped reply.

Dilandau saw Folken smile, his keen eyes penetrating the darkness to view the Strategos. He looked away from his superior, not wanting to see what nobody else could. Why the sorcerers had kept him alive was not mystery, but why they had failed to repair the damage...

Do you know what we're going to do with you? Folken's voice came again, calm and cool as ever, but with an edge it had not used to possess.

Let me think... Kill me? Torture me? Rape me? Experiment on me? Or maybe, you're going to bore me to death. Dilandau was forced to suppress a chuckle, at her words and at the thought of inflicting them on her.

No. Obviously you don't know. He sounded almost disappointed, and Dilandau sat a little straighter, wondering if she would be found to be useless and he'd get to have his fun after all. Then we must educate you. Folken said softly, his soothing voice echoing in the large chamber. We are going to offer you a job.

Is this one of those offers I can't refuse?' Dilandau smirked at the sarcasm in her voice. One thing was true—she certainly had guts, or was just incredibly stupid. Only one person ever talked to the Strategos that way as Dilandau well knew, the rest were all too frightened.

Yes. Well, you can refuse of course, only—

Only I'll be raped, tortured, experimented on, and killed.

Yes, though not necessarily in that order.

For the first time since she had entered the room, Dilandau could see a flicker of fear in her grey eyes. He wanted to see more.

Karina, we are not here to harm you, we only wish—

She commanded, and Dilandau saw the fear leave her face as her eyes hardened.

Excuse me?

She repeated. What, you think I believe all this bullshit about you not wanting to harm me? Maybe you don't, but you sure as hell aren't here to do me any good.

And how do you know this? Folken asked softly. His tone was curious, light, but Dilandau could hear the hunger in his voice.

You know my name. I never told anybody here my name because nobody asked—rather rude of them if you ask me. She said, turning her story grey eyes back to Dilandau. He gazed levelly back at her, knowing there was only one way this staring contest would end, and he had to suppress a triumphant chuckle as she looked away. If you know my name it means you've been following me or something.

Following your fate is the more precise term. Dilandau could see the girl waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't, and instead changed the subject. Before I explain to you what your job is, I want you to do something for me.

She snapped, her patience and control clearly wearing thin. Dilandau looked at her in disgust; his own slayers would never be that weak.

I want you to tell me what I'm thinking of. Folken explained, emerging from the shadows and moving to stand in front of Karina. He held out his hand and Dilandau saw the girl looking at it, suspicion bright in her eyes. Just take my hand and tell me what I'm thinking of.

Hesitantly Karina took his hand and closed her eyes, and expression of skepticism still pasted onto her face. Her brow furrowed and Dilandau wondered what was going on within the confines of her mind.

After a moment she opened her eyes and looked up into Folken's.

What did you see? He asked softly, searching her eyes as if trying to extract the information from her that way.

She replied slowly, looking bewildered. With red bow-ties.

Folken broke into a smile, a real smile, and spoke. Very good. Now, I will tell you what we want you to do.

We want you to interrogate prisoners—well, not really interrogate, you won't need to do that. We wish for you to extract information from prisoners and occasionally be our spy.

You see, Karina. He continued, walking around behind her. You are a telepath, and a powerful one at that. You can read people's minds through touch, know what they are feeling at a simple glance, can tell whether they are lying without even looking at them. It is a beautiful talent for a beautiful woman. The last part was whispered into her ear, and Dilandau's lip curled into a sneer of revulsion; Folken always did have awful taste. First that cat-woman Naria, and now some foul, Mystic Moon whore.

the Strategos continued, his voice still retaining the husky quality of before. Will you accept this— there was an artful pause

There was only a moment's hesitation before Karina answered.

Excellent, now—

I'm not finished. She interrupted coldly, looking Folken straight in the eyes. None of his men are to touch me. She said, gesturing in Dilandau's direction. He smiled, noting the fact that she had not said he couldn't touch her. Maybe he'd get to have his fun after all.

Folken smiled slightly, and Dilandau frowned at the expression on his face. It was his expression.