CHAPTER 7: A Tortured Plaything
Logan opened his eyes. There was very little light in the chamber he found himself in. He suspected this was deliberate. He decided to assess what little he could see of his surroundings.
The chamber alone told of unforgivable agonies inflicted by a vile, sadistic race. The floor felt metallic to the touch, but it was so thoroughly bloodstained, he could not even see the glint of metal. He saw several drains in the flooring - he didn't need to guess why.
From the ceiling, an array of fearsome looking meat hooks dangled from short chains. A shudder ran down his spine - whether it was from the cold, or the conjured mental image of being lifted up and mounted on the hooks like a slice of meat as the drukhari did their dirty work, he was unsure.
In the corner of the room, he saw others. It saddened him greatly to see more souls on their way to agonies he could only imagine, but there was small comfort in the fact that he was not alone.
They were all aeldari - clad in the colors of Asherital. Mostly civilians, but he counted at least one dire avenger and two swooping hawks in the group. The one that stood out, though, was the lone howling banshee. She was the only one of them he knew by name; Lilya.
Logan walked over to the other captives, his legs wobbling as he struggled to carry himself. He couldn't exactly recall what happened, but clearly he had expended a great amount of power. The physical warmth of the group helped protect against the biting cold air, which gave Logan some relief as he tried to remember.
He remembered the ambush. The sudden eruption of fire, and the hasty but organized resistance that followed. The mad dash to the ring. He remembered slipping the ring onto his hand, and then collapsing from exhaustion. His memories began to play back his capture, and how Tazareah had assaulted him. Logan shook his head, as if trying to force the memories of Tazareah's touch out of his mind. When that didn't work, he began to claw at his own scalp. He felt the warmth of blood running down his fingers, but still, it would not go away.
"Get out of my head!" Logan said quietly. "Let me forget!"
He felt the warm touch of a hand pulling his bloodied hands from his head, and looked up. Lilya held his hands in her own, gently. She radiated warmth and comfort, the same way Alinelle did. It helped push the worst of the memories away. For now, at least.
"I was not present to see your capture, but it brings me great sadness to see you here," Lilya said. Logan managed a weak smile.
"I feel the same way seeing all of you here," Logan replied. "It's my fault. If I hadn't asked Alinelle to assemble a host, none of you would be here right now."
"If you had not, you would never have recovered Isha's ring," Lilya began. "You follow the will of Isha, and for us to ignore the wishes of one of our last still-surviving deities would be a stain upon our honor worse than even this."
"But I don't even know where the ring is!" Logan snapped.
Lilya recoiled, and immediately Logan regretted his outburst. She did nothing to deserve it.
"That was out of line, I'm sorry," Logan apologized. Lilya smiled, and nodded for him to go on. "All I remember was putting the ring on, and then…"
Yet again, the memories of violation flooded his mind.
"And then…" he stuttered.
He tried to continue, but when the tears came, they wouldn't stop. He cried, trying to be quiet lest the crew of the ship hear him. Lilya simply held his hands in her own, and sat quietly.
"There's this… gap… in my memories," Logan managed. "The last thing I remember was the succubus, Tazareah. She was… touching me. I was too weak to even move. I tried to turn away, but she held me down. I've never felt so weak… so… helpless. So… pathetic."
"It is not your fault, Logan," Lilya consoled him. "Though I was already captured before you donned the ring, I can tell from your reaction that what she did was unforgivable. It is a torture of a different kind to the typical drukhari methods, but no less vile. But perhaps some of our fellow captives saw something that could fill in the gap in your memory?"
Lilya looked to the other captives. One of the swooping hawks began to speak.
"Though I did not see Logan put on the ring itself, I did see what he did before he was captured," the warrior began.
Logan listened as the aspect warrior described the gap in his recall, causing his own memory of events to come flooding back.
He remembered seeing through the eyes of the last priestess of Isha. He remembered seeing her incredible control of plant life, using that power to crush an entire horde of daemons. The way the swooping hawk described it, he must have channeled that same power while he re-lived those memories.
He looked to his left ring finger. There was the telltale mark that a ring had been on the skin, but none was present. Instead, there was a branded rune. Logan instantly recognized it as the rune of Isha. It was identical to the birthmark he had on his thigh.
Had the ring melded with his body in some way? He knew he had never taken it off, and the fit had been snug, so it would not have simply slid off his finger. While the drukhari might have taken it, he suspected they would have taken much more than just a ring. It was certainly a puzzling situation, to say the least.
At least the thought might keep him distracted. He just had to keep his mind and body busy, then maybe it would keep the bad memories at bay. All Logan needed was something to do.
Now, he examined his fellow captives more closely. They were all injured; that much was clear. Most were relatively mild, at least compared to what he'd treated during his rotations in Asherital's intensive care ward. Logan saw lacerations from nets, contusions in the ribs, while several clearly had suffered mild concussions.
Lilya's injuries were the most severe. She was not dying yet, but medical attention was urgently needed.
"Now that you've helped me with my pain," Logan said, trying to smile, "allow me to help you with yours."
Lilya tried to refuse, but Logan demonstrated his insistence, and simply nodded to her legs. She relented, and allowed him to begin his examination. She yelped in pain when he touched several ribs, and he apologized in response.
"You're in no position to refuse medical attention," Logan said, in his best bedside manner voice. "Transverse fractures on left ribs 3 and 6, right ribs 2 and 3. Signs of pneumothorax."
With that, Logan crawled behind her, allowing her to lean back in an ideal position to buy him time. As she did so, he saw her legs. Even in this poor lighting he could see the severe damage to her ankles.
"Both calcaneal tendons severed. Minor collateral damage to peroneus longus and brevis tendons. Tibialis anterior tendon exposed by laceration, but not torn," Logan remarked to himself. He looked down as her head rested on his chest. The change in position was helping her breathe, but she needed more.
Logan took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He put his hands gently on Lilya, and visualized the healing he wished to perform. He heard several snapping sounds as pieces of rib forced themselves back into place and callused over. The pneumothorax must have been the result of a rib fragment piercing a lung, because once the ribs healed, Lilya gasped loudly, taking in fresh gulps of air.
Now, for the hard part. Logan lowered Lilya gently to the floor, turning her so she lay on her left side. He moved across to sit by her calves and ankles, and grabbed her gently but firmly by the shins. He heard her hiss with pain, but he knew he could not focus on distractions if he wanted to help her.
Closing his eyes again, he conjured a mental image of healing flesh - the ends of severed tendons and ligaments reconnecting, as the surrounding tissue closes up the wound, leaving only a slightly raised scar. As he visualized, he could feel the energy leaving his body - it was not the most taxing he'd ever dealt with, but it was in his top ten. Muscle and skin and even visceral damage wasn't too hard, depending on the type. Tendons and ligaments were a different story. It took a great exertion of energy to heal them to their original strength - if he didn't put in that extra effort, they would heal to be weaker and more susceptible to injury, as they normally would. But Logan had the power to make things better - it was his responsibility to do so.
Logan felt his limbs become heavy, and lay down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Lilya, now able to walk, rolled up to her feet, and picked him up. Before he could say "no," she put him down by the wall, allowing him to rest in a more comfortable position. She sat down beside him.
"I had heard tales of your incredible healing abilities," Lilya began. "But I had never witnessed it myself until now. You really are an incredible human, Logan."
Despite himself, Logan blushed. Lilya gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead, then sat down beside him. They sat like this for a while, as Logan regained some energy. Then, it was time to heal the rest of the aeldari.
Logan enjoyed the grateful nods as he moved from one captive to another. It was quick work, and he was grateful that there were no injuries that would require great expenditure of power. Stuck in his own thoughts, and healing the last of the captives, Logan didn't even notice when the cell door opened.
"What are you doing, mon'keigh?" Came the voice of a drukhari woman.
It wasn't Tazareah, and Logan thanked Isha for that.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Logan retorted, before he could stop himself. "I'm helping those around me. I apologize if that word doesn't have a translation in your tongue; it means 'the opposite of what you do.'"
Logan felt the hekatrix's boot slam into his torso, kicking him nearly across the room. He heard a snapping sound as the impact broke several of his ribs, and pushed the air from his lungs. Before he could try to get up, he felt the same boot pressing down on his neck.
"Consider this a warning, mon'keigh filth," the drukhari spat, before returning to the cell entrance.
The door closed, but she did not leave. Logan, one ear now on the floor, could hear a set of footsteps approaching from outside the cell. There was a groan as the door opened again, creaking on blood-rusted hinges.
"My archite, I caught one of the captives healing the others," the hekatrix said. "It's the mon'keigh. I made a thorough example of him, though, as you can plainly see."
Logan felt the surge of panic rising from his core as he recognized the recently-arrived figure. Tazareah had clearly washed herself in the time Logan was captive, but the unnatural honey-like scent was still there. He tried to crawl away as she approached him, but she was too quick. Tazareah grabbed him by the hair, and held him up so his upper body was no longer on the floor.
Logan closed his eyes as the succubus ran her hands up and down his torso - not a single inch was saved from her touch. He yelped, as her hands pressed on one of his broken ribs. She let go of Logan, letting him smack down back onto the floor with a resounding thud.
"Who told you that you could play with my toys!?" Logan heard Tazareah hiss.
"My archite, I only assumed-'' the hekatrix began.
Logan heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh. He tried to crane his neck to look up, and could only just see the two drukhari. The hekatrix was reeling, blood pouring from her nose and mouth.
"Do not…" Tazareah hissed, punching the hekatrix again.
"Touch…" A third punch, this time knocking the hekatrix to the floor.
"My…" Tazareah uttered, kicking the other drukhari enough to lift her off the ground for a fraction of a second.
"Toys!" The succubus shrieked, kicking the hekatrix again. Tazareah pinned the hekatrix by the neck, slowly applying pressure with her boot. Logan heard the pinned drukhari struggling to breathe.
Just as Logan thought the hekatrix would suffocate, Tazareah lifted her boot. The hekatrix got to her feet, thoroughly humbled.
"Do I make myself clear?" Tazareah asked, her voice dripping with venom. "The mon'keigh is mine. If this ever happens again, I'll have you turned over to the haemonculi. Perhaps they'll use you to make a pain engine. If you're lucky."
The hekatrix nodded.
"Good. Now, go and fetch me some heavy chains," Tazareah said. Logan felt her predatory gaze fall upon him, and shivered. "I think my new plaything could use some accessories."
The drukhari nodded in affirmation and swiftly exited the room. Now, the entire chamber was silent, except for the tapping of Tazareah's footsteps as she got closer. Logan tried to curl up, to protect himself, but trying to do so elicited a pained gasp as shards of his broken ribs rubbed up against each other.
"Little mon'keigh," He felt the succubus' hot breath in his ear. "It appears I really did make a good choice."
Logan didn't respond. He was paralyzed, out of fear and disgust. The succubus got to the ground behind him, lying down on her side. She pressed her body against his, and Logan could feel the heat radiating from her. With Alinelle, it was pleasant, and warm. With the drukhari, it brought no comfort at all. He continued to shiver as he heard her quietly moan while moving one thigh up and down his side.
Logan felt her gently nibbling on his ear, and would have swatted her away on instinct if she hadn't wrapped her thighs around him, pinning his arms to his chest. He struggled, but every time he did she simply squeezed tighter. With his already-fractured ribs, he was in no shape to fight it.
"You will be my personal little helper," Tazareah whispered seductively. "In more ways than one, of course."
Her tone made the bile rise in Logan's gullet. The succubus got to her feet, and stood directly above him. She straddled him as she had on Endeon Quintus, but this time, she removed some of her clothing. Along her legs and on her torso and abdomen were a series of deep lacerations, no longer actively bleeding but Logan could see the tiniest hint of discomfort in the succubus' eyes. Good. Let her suffer.
"It's time to put your special touch to good use," she commanded, using one finger to trace along one of the long gashes that traveled from her ankle to the innermost portion of her thigh. "Come now; don't be shy, little mon'keigh. Be a good little plaything."
Logan shook his head. Whether it was in defiance or just trying to convince himself that this was not really happening, he did not know. All he could manage in response was to spit blood onto the floor at the succubus' feet. This, he decided, was defiance.
Before he could do anything else, the succubus had a hand around his neck, hoisting him off the ground. Still smiling, she carried him like he was light as a feather, walking over to the other captives.
"It seems we have some training to do, pet," Tazareah said. "You see, when a pet misbehaves, it gets… punished. It's the only way they learn to obey."
Logan noticed she had her glaive at the ready. If this was how it was going to end, so be it. Better to die than to live like this. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of a slit throat to give way to the non-existence of death.
"Oh, that's adorable," Tazareah mused, "you're too… bountiful… to go to waste as an example. But… I know you."
He felt her surprisingly yet somehow unnervingly gentle touch as she stroked his chin with one finger. He wanted to tell her that he would rather die than do anything for her, but Tazareah's iron grip on his throat ensured his silence.
"You care about others, don't you, little mon'keigh?" The succubus asked. Logan didn't bother trying to move his head - she clearly already knew the answer.
"Let him go, you vile mongrel!" Logan recognized Lilya's voice, and opened his eyes. She had gotten to her feet, and stood in a fighting stance.
"Thank you for making this so easy, craftworlder," Tazareah laughed, dropping Logan to the ground.
Lilya charged forward, the outrage of her capture and indignity of her treatment fueling a forward leap. She tried to grab the succubus by the hair, but the razors caused her to lose grip, leaving a hand bleeding as she stumbled to recover.
Tazareah was too quick, though. As Lilya tried to prepare for another charge, the succubus used the haft of her glaive like a staff, smacking the air from Lilya's newly-healed lung. Tazareah flipped her glaive, and rammed the blade through Lilya's chest. Logan screamed out as he felt her pain, intermingled with his own.
As Lilya's life left her body, Tazareah ripped the spirit stone from her chest. Logan looked on in abject horror as the succubus crushed the spirit stone under one of her boots, grinding it into the floor until it was naught but dust. Logan screamed even louder, tears streaming down his face. This was all his fault. The fact was unavoidable. One of the few friends he still had was gone, sentenced to an eternity of torment, all because of his futile attempt to be defiant.
Logan heard a squeal of uncontained ecstasy, as Tazareah took in a deep breath, savoring the pain she had just caused. Logan didn't know who he hated more - Tazareah, or himself. In a flash of movement, the succubus was upon him once more.
"Oh, Logan," She gasped, panting like a satisfied lover, "You taste so good."
As she said this she ran her tongue along his face, collecting his tears. He could feel her chest heaving, pressing tightly against his own. It made him want to vomit.
"I need… more," Tazareah said, panting. "I don't think I can wait the whole ride back to Commorragh to put you to good use."
Then, the massacre began. One by one, the remaining aeldari were slaughtered. Butchered, like grox on an agri-world. He hadn't known them all, but they were all good souls. Souls guaranteed eternal torment at the hands of She Who Thirsts.
The pain was overwhelming. Logan began to seize, spasming uncontrollably as his mind struggled to process the amount of suffering around him. He couldn't process it. Perhaps that was for the better.
Now, the door to the chamber opened, and the hekatrix returned with heavy, iron chains. She offered to assist, but Tazareah shooed her away. As soon as the door closed again, Tazareah walked towards Logan, a suggestive smile on her face.
"You won't be needing these, pet," Tazareah intoned.
Logan was too shocked to react when Tazareah forcefully removed his robes, then his undergarments. The succubus casually tossed them towards the door. Logan suddenly felt cold air rattling his bones, and Tazareah laughed. Grabbing the chains, she wrapped them tightly around his arms, and secured them around several of the hooks on the ceiling. The metal was cold. His teeth began to chatter. Tazareah flashed him a coy smile.
"What's that? My little toy is a bit chilly?" She taunted. "I think I know how to warm you up, my delicious morsel."
With that, the succubus began to touch him. She touched every inch of his body, with every inch of hers. She caressed him, holding his head forcefully close to her chest so much so that he felt his neck straining. She moved her posterior and thighs up and down his, before finally grabbing him by the head and pulling him into a forceful kiss. It was just as violating as last time, but this time she pressed her whole body into him, wrapping him up like a blanket as she caught his tongue with her own. He could feel her hungry eyes boring into him the entire time, even though he kept his eyes closed throughout.
Tears flowed down his face now, prompting Tazareah to lap up his tears as if they were the sweetest nectar. She giggled, yet the mirth was borne entirely out of sadism. That made the sound even more unnerving. She proceeded to plant another invasive kiss, holding his head in a vice grip as her tongue felt every ridge in his mouth, as she released, the two still linked by a thin line of spittle that slowly broke apart as Tazareah began to back off, finally.
"Looks like that helped, little mon'keigh," Tazareah teased.
He did feel physically warmer, but his soul felt cold as the void. He said nothing. What was there to say? Tazareah began to walk to the exit of the chamber, before turning to him and smiling.
"Don't worry, my pet," she said. "I'll be back soon to make sure that you're nice and warm.
With that, the succubus left Logan alone, strung up in a cold room full of his now-dead friends.
—
There was no day or night cycle in the drukhari prison cell. Logan had stayed silent as the kabalites had removed the bodies. He knew better than to curse them out; they were doing him a favor by removing the ghosts of his past. Or at least their physical forms.
Logan noted the passage of time by watching his skin change color. The first color was red. Now, his hands and feet were slowly becoming blue. Needless to say, both areas were completely numb. Maybe he would try to use his healing abilities on himself to avoid hypothermia.
His thoughts were interrupted by the chamber door creaking open. Tazareah walked through, alone. She carried an iron brace of some sort in one hand, and a rag tied around her left arm. The succubus grinned.
"Oh, I'm sorry, my pet," Tazareah said, insincerely. "I usually don't let such fresh meat get cold."
As she said that, she looked down between Logan's legs. He shuddered
"I've grown tired of waiting for my prize. It's time for me to get some playtime with my toy," Tazareah told him.
She unhooked Logan from the ceiling. The chains clattered to the floor with a resounding echo, and Logan collapsed. Tazareah easily lifted him by the chin. She held him in a vice grip as she grabbed the iron bracer and fit it around his neck. It was tight, with just enough room to breathe.
"What good is a pet without a mark of ownership?" Tazareah sneered.
Tazareah unwrapped the cloth from around her arm and tightly wrapped it around Logan's mouth.
"Now come, pet," she said, suggestively. "You have a job to do."
With a hard yank of the chain attached to the collar, Tazareah began to drag Logan out of the room.
Logan wasn't even able to scream as he was dragged away.