Читать книгу The Melded Child - Rebecca Locksley - Страница 6

For the last thirty days Yani had sat in the darkness, chained to the wall behind her by the iron witch manacles round her neck and wrists. Every time the light in the corridor outside her room lightened to grey she’d made a mark in the spongy wood of the wall as a way of keeping time. Her little prison room stank of rotting wood and the sour stinking water in the bilges beneath, but the worst of it was the rats that lived in this hold. When she fell asleep they would come creeping up to bite her and even though she had caught and killed many, there seemed a never ending army of them.

For thirty days she had listened to the bilge water sloshing back and forward as the ship creaked and rolled across the waves, but today the waves had smoothed and the rhythm of the ships creaking had slowed. Yani had a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach that they had arrived. She was not sure what their destination was, though she had a strong suspicion it was somewhere in Miraya because the old man who was her warden spoke Mirayan. Evil bastard!

She had not been physically mistreated and every day bread and water had been brought to her and the slops bucket taken away. She had no physical reason to fear the old man but every night he would come to the door of the cell, light a candle and leer at her through the small barred window.

He had the face of a skull - greying parchment skin stretched tight over his bones - yet he had the most amazingly white and perfect teeth that he said came from eating human flesh. Sometimes he just stood there shining the light in her face so that she could not sleep. Other times he talked, telling her long stories of rape, torture and cannibalism. The sensual pleasure with which the old death mage spoke of these things - the way he rolled each story round in his mouth as if he were savouring the flavour of some delicious food- was more frightening than the stories themselves. He seemed quite sane - he simply revelled in other people’s pain. The very existence of such a being, defiling the life spirit, made her physically ill.

She had offered him gold. She had threatened him with Marigoth and the others. She had even tried to make him curious about her, to lure him into mindsearching her, hoping thus to touch him with the power of the life spirit and perhaps change him. But he did not listen to her. She suspected that he did not regard her as sufficiently human.

Sometimes when he came she prayed the Morning Chant to herself so that those beautiful words could drown out his speech. Sometimes she did not respond at all, but withdrew into the Raven and let it deal with the stories. Sometimes she made herself weep and screamed at him in the hope that that would satisfy him and make him go away quicker. None of these strategies seemed to make his visits shorter. He stayed talking and staring at her until it pleased him to go away and leave her to the rats.

“You are bait,” he would say every day. “Those who love you will come after you. Your loved ones will fall into our hands and we shall feed them to our servants. Or worse still, we will suck them dry to use their power. Those people you love. Then I shall have you for myself and we shall see how long you can last my pleasure. Meditate on that.”

He must be speaking some truth. The Mirayans in the Archipelago hated her and wanted her gone so there was no reason why they should keep her alive unless they wanted bigger prey. Death mages could always put a Tari to good use. But did her captors actually know this? Was this why they had not touched her?

Marigoth would come after her. They must know that that was certain. And Marigoth was a much bigger prize.

Yani prayed that her younger sister would come prepared, yet in the end what was the power of a great mage? What good had it done her bodyguard, Diyar? When Yani had realised that she had been drugged, she had staggered to the door of the room and pushed it open. And seen Diyar there, her guardian mage, slumped on floor bleeding from the head, a man with a cudgel standing over him. You might be a great mage able to make whole armies fall asleep, but you were still only human when they hit you on the head. Where was Diyar now? Was he on the ship? She’d asked the old man but he’d only laughed.

Sweet life, she regretted swapping the sword for diplomacy, especially when she thought of that bastard Prince Ipius. She never should have trusted him.

When his Chamberlain had called Yani to his house for a secret meeting, she had gone in good faith, assuming that the Prince had wanted to make a deal that his supporters would not approve. She’d thought the Prince smart enough to want to avoid offending the Tari, but even then she had taken care. The Chamberlain had offered her wine while they awaited the Prince and she had drunk only because the Chamberlain had poured his cup from the same jug and sipped before she did. Then the Chamberlain had passed out as they spoke together and the world has started to go round and she had realised she’d been fooled. Idiot that she was. She shouldn’t have expected that bastard Prince to have had the decency to be war-weary after just a couple of failed tries taking Pels.

This had the hallmarks of a very well thought out plan and she did not think the old man was lying when he talked of others being involved. Marigoth might really be in danger.

She must get out of here, and do something. With the witch manacles around her neck she couldn’t change into the Raven and fly away from the ship, but now they were still and possibly in some kind of port… For thirty days she had been working at the staple that affixed the chains to the rotten wall. Today she had finally pulled it out. Now sitting with it carefully behind her, she waited for the one of the guards to come with food. The grey light of the hold was darkening. The guard would be here soon and he would open the door to take out the slops bucket. Even weakened by the bread and water diet, she should be able to overpower the fellow. Then they would see what sort of a bait she was.

She tensed as footsteps came towards her. But they were the footsteps of someone new, not the old man or the guard. They moved confidently as if they were meant to be there. Was she going to meet her ultimate captor this time?

Yani pushed the staple back into the wall and tried to look helpless.

A mage light flared at the window. Though the glare Yani could make out the shape of a face with a shroud of hair on either side of it.

“Hmm,” said a woman’s voice.

“What are you doing here, bitch?” cried someone. Yani thought it was the old man.

The head was gone from the window.

“I came to see my brother’s prize,” cooed a voice. Definitely a woman’s voice. “It’s not much, is it? I’m starting to wonder if I even want it.”

“Your brother’s prize?” snarled the old man. “I’ll have you know this is my...”

The woman laughed and then with a roar, magical fire flowered, filling the hold with blinding light, screams of agony and the smell of burning flesh.

Heavy blackness was fading to grey. Danger! whispered the Raven.

Yani fought the urge to open her eyes as reality seeped slowly, reluctantly back to her. That woman. Danger!

She’d been unconscious and now she was somewhere new, propped up in a corner against some kind of wall that rocked back and forth. She could hear horses ahead. She must be in some kind of cart. Her hands and feet were unbound, but cold iron still chilled her wrists and neck. Damn.

She slid her eyes open just a crack. A woman was sitting opposite her looking away out the window. Dark hair laced with gold thread. Was this the woman from the ship?

Through half open eyelids, Yani examined her surroundings looking for an advantage. This was some kind of enclosed cart with a canvas covering like a tent stretched above them. Two benches covered in gold brocade were fixed to either side of it and luxurious red and gold cushions were strewn everywhere. It was full daylight outside. How long had she been unconscious?

She took another look at the mage. She was dressed as richly as a queen, her thick black cloak thrown back from a golden brocade gown. Long black hair. The face of a beautiful hawk. Blood red lips that couldn’t be natural.

The mage turned suddenly to look at Yani. She feigned unconsciousness again.

“You can stop pretending. I know you are awake,” said the mage.

Yani kept her eyes closed and forced her face to relax. Best to stay as she was - wakefulness seemed certain to bring unpleasantness.

But unpleasantness was determined to come to her. The woman’s dress rustled and she felt her sit down beside her. She pulled open Yani’s bodice.

“Hmm. What nice breasts. My men will be pleased. Still pretending to be asleep, are you?”

Caressing hands slide into Yani’s bodice and ran over her breasts. She forced herself not to cringe from the touch. What was the creature at? Suddenly the mage pinched her hard on the nipple, digging her fingernails in and twisting. Despite herself Yani winced and pulled away.

“I’m awake,” she said.

The woman smiled smugly.

“Now you’re being a good girl.”

“Who are you?” said Yani coolly.

“My name is Daria Symina,” said the woman. “If you were from round here, you’d be afraid.”

“What do you want with me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to worry about,” smiled Daria. “One is subject to whims and when one is as powerful as I, one can do what one likes. Perhaps I was curious to see one of the Archipelagan folk. Perhaps I just want to have some fun.” She stroked Yani’s thigh. “Perhaps I thought my men would like a change of diet.”

Intimidation always made Yani combative. She returned Daria gaze calmly.

“I did not think Mirayans allowed women to be mages. I thought they killed you all at birth.”

“Sometimes the great families marry us so that they can breed mages from us, but mostly they just send us to nunneries,” said the woman conversationally. “We are taught healing and other white-souled lily-livery. Pah! Such would I have been if my brother had not killed our parents.”

“Nice brother,” said Yani.

“My brother, Malov Symina, is the most feared man in Miraya and he sent for you. Do not try that brave face on me. Fear should be gnawing at your vitals. Unless you are a great fool.”

“And why has your brother brought me all this way?”

“Why indeed?” said Daria mockingly. “Think of pain, my dear little slave. Think of torture, rape and despair.”

To hell with the woman! Yani wasn’t going to be scared.

“You’re death mages, aren’t you?” sneered Yani. “Those sad creatures who can only achieve power by prostituting themselves to demons.”

“Ooh hoo!” cried Daria. “Aren’t we cheeky?” She seized Yani’s hair and pulled her face close to her.

“I’ll teach you manners.”

Her long sharp nails came out and raked Yani’s cheek, menacing her eyes. Yani lashed out and pushed her off. Daria hissed. There was a sudden flash of magic and Yani felt as if every bone in her body had been jolted out of its socket. She cried out despite herself and suddenly Daria was on top of her jolting her with that magic again and again until every joint was burning.

“Do you still doubt my power?” shouted Daria.

“Stop it, you bitch,” cried Yani, trying to grit her chattering teeth.

Daria laughed, but the jolts of magic stopped. Through her pain, Yani could hear the mage panting heavily. She was astride Yani and her face was so close that Yani could feel her hot breath on her cheek.

“You’re so brave, aren’t you? I wonder if you will be so brave when my men shove their hard dicks into your soft little cunt,” she hissed into Yani’s ear.

She rolled the words sensually over her tongue and her body arched and moved with pleasure as she spoke. Then suddenly her weight was gone. She was over the other side of carriage, breathing hard, struggling with some strong feeling.

Daria wants you, whispered the Raven in her head.

The death mage pulled open a small chest that was bolted to the wall of the carriage, and snatching out a little bag, sniffed two pinches of a white powder up her nose.

Yani’s joints were burning too much for her to worry about Daria for the moment. How easily she had cried out! Humiliated, she turned her face to the brocade. It smelt of dust and sweat.

“Now you see who is mistress here, girl!” panted Daria “You will treat me with respect.”

Rage filled Yani. Control yourself, cried the Raven in her ear. This is not the way through. There are other paths to freedom. Its harsh voice brought sanity.

“Answer me, girl,” snarled Daria.

Don’t fight back, counselled the Raven. You can’t win. Try to get over rough ground as easily as possible. Submit for the moment and wait for an opportunity.

“Yes,” Yani whispered, not looking at Daria. Her voice was trembling with hatred. Hopefully Daria would read that as fear. Yani knew that she should beg for mercy but she was too angry to do it. She just lay there face down on the bench, hearing her own breath rasping in her throat while the Raven whispered soothingly in her head.

“Did I hurt you?” cooed Daria mockingly. “How naughty of me.”

The bitch! thought Yani furiously.

Stop it! whispered the Raven. You are only angry because you are afraid. But warrior’s recklessness had seized Yani.

So Daria wanted her, did she? Perhaps that made an opportunity.

“Please lady,” she said softly, sweetly and deceitfully. “Please don’t hurt me any more.”

She rolled over slowly, letting her skirts ride up her legs. Her bodice was still open and she let it gape so that her breasts showed. She moved her chained hands with false grogginess from her forehead along down her body, brushing over her breasts with her fingers as she did so, arching her back sensuously.

For a moment she saw or thought she saw naked desire on Daria’s face.

Then the mage let out a shrill shriek.

“Cover yourself, slut,” she screamed and burning, juddering pain burst over Yani. Pain that went on and on until the rage was burned out of Yani, and then the strength. Pain until she began to weep and truly beg for mercy.

Suddenly it stopped.

“I will not kill you today, whore!” said Daria Symina with utter coldness. “But be warned. My brother wanted you alive. But he didn’t say in one piece. Or sane.”

Yani huddled on the floor of the carriage where she must have fallen. Cushions were scattered all around her and grit from the carriage floor dug into her cheek. Her every nerve was jangling. A wave of despair filled her and she wanted to cry. The mage on the ship had been evil but this Daria...

The carriage kept rocking beneath her as if nothing had changed. The Raven came into her mind. The rustling of its feathers was full of the whispering of the life force and it spoke the morning chant, comforting her.

The blessings of life enfold and encircle you always. Do not despair. We shall find another path.

Slowly cold, calculating calm returned.

Meanwhile the carriage charged on and on at a headlong pace. Every time they stopped to change horses, someone lead them past the carriage window and Daria performed some spell on them. But she never left the carriage, and there was no opportunity for Yani to escape.

The second time they stopped to change horses, Daria kicked Yani hard in the kidneys and ordered her to get up. By now Yani, immersed in the calm of the Raven, saw Daria from a long way away with an eye only for strategy. She was quite young this mage, no older than her early twenties. Remembering her previous need for deference, Yani showed as much fear as she could, which wasn’t difficult as she would have wished.

“You’re not so tough, are you?” sneered Daria. “They told me your people were great mages, but you’re not. You’re just some snivelling ordinary. Just meat. Tell me, why is my brother so hot to own you, Meat?”

“I don’t know, Lady,” said Yani.

“So what are you then, if you’re not a mage? A servant? A kitchen maid perhaps? Or are you just some whore who kneels down and takes it in the arse like a bitch?”

Fighting spirit burned up in Yani’s chest, but she pushed it down. Daria stroked her arm.

“How did you get such big muscles?”

“Among my people I am counted a warrior,” snapped Yani, despite her best intentions.

Daria threw back her head and laughed contemptuously. “A warrior! A lying bitch, more like. A laundress more like. Yes, I bet you got those muscles heaving round sweaty sheets at some inn, didn’t you? She leaned closer. “And I’ll bet you learned to fight being gang raped on some smelly dung heap. A warrior! Ha! You’re just a woman.”

Daria seemed to lose interest. She leaned back against the brocade cushions and sighed. Perhaps she was growing tired. Unless they drew on the life force, even powerful mages had limited power and Daria was making heavy use of her magic. She kept peering through the blind at the window in a way that made Yani suspect they were moving through dangerous country. Were they expecting an attack? Sweet life if only!

Daria did not touch Yani again all that day, but every now and then she shot questions at her.

“Are you Tari really so full of life force? Tell me how these special links with the life force work? Are you some kind of nature mage?”

To all these questions Yani answered, as submissively as she could, “I’m not a mage. I don’t really know.” Daria was horribly well-informed. She knew of the Tari’s connection with the life force and that demons desired Tari lives above all others. She sneered for a long time over the Tari’s reverence for life. She even knew that Tari could not kill without experiencing the death of their victim. Very few people knew these things about the Tari even at home in the Archipelago. How had Daria learned so much?

From the wording of Daria’s questions it seemed as if she and this brother of hers had been expecting Yani for some time. She even asked Yani how she had liked Cav Cannus, the horrible old mage who had tormented her on the ship. Yet she did not seem to know about any plot to capture those who might try to rescue her, which was odd considering what the mage on the ship had known. But she was no fool.

“I suppose one of these great mages will try and rescue you,” she asked several times. “Answer me!”

“No!” cried Yani, as she had to the mage on the ship. “My people despise warriors. I am a person of violence. A killer. An outcast.”

“You’re lying. There is someone following us even now, isn’t there?”

“No, they will not come for me. All my life I have fought to defend them. And yet they despise me.”

“Lying bitch. Did I not teach you enough respect?” said Daria, hotly lunging at Yani.

Yani shrank back into the corner. “No, Lady. I swear I’m not lying.”

Daria slapped her face several times, but physically she wasn’t very strong and the slaps didn’t hurt all that much. “You’re lying.” She seized Yani’s hair. “Tell me the truth or I will hurt you as never before.”

Yani reacted as if Daria had hurt her more than she had.

“No, Lady. I... I really don’t know the answer. I am an outcast. I... maybe they will send someone.”

“They would not want one of their own to be fed to demons, would they?” hissed Daria in her face. “They would not want death mages probing you to find out more about your people. If all these stories are true, the Tari would be like gold to us. If you were mine I’d come after you, if only to kill you to prevent you from being mindsearched by such as me.”

“Yes, Lady. I’m sure you’re right, Lady,” cried Yani breathlessly, hoping to plant seeds of doubt into Daria’s mind.

“Pah! Weakling. You are disgusting,” said Daria. “I shall enjoy watching my men cut you about.”

She pushed Yani down onto the floor of the carriage and turned away. This was bad. It was hardly worth the trouble of planting seeds of doubt in Daria’s mind. If Daria even suspected Marigoth was coming for her, she’d be ready for her. And now she was talking of mindsearching Yani.

Mindsearch. Then she would know everything, even about their outcast status, about Elena, all about the Tari’s weaknesses.

But the Raven in Yani’s mind let out a satisfied caw and Yani remembered how Diyar had once let a curious Mirayan priest mindsearch him.

“Don’t do it,” Yani had warned. “He’ll tell the Mirayans our secrets and they’ll use them against us.”

Diyar had just smiled at her.

“Have faith in the life spirit,” he had said. He had known a lot more about Tari magic than her. Diyar had not been surprised when, after the mindsearch, the Mirayan priest had gone into a religious trance in which he claimed to have seen the face of Mir. Nor was he surprised when the priest left his ambitious path upwards through the clerical hierarchy to live the life of a lone forest hermit.

“To touch a Tari’s mind is to touch the life spirit,” he had said simply. The Mirayans never sent anyone to mindsearch a Tari ever again.

Night came and still the carriage thundered onwards stopping only to change horses. Sometimes the road was very bad and they were thrown around. Daria must have been saving her strength for she did nothing to soften their ride and when the time came to light lamps in the carriage, she did not use her own power but lit the feeble little mage lights that you could buy in any market. They filled the carriage with a sickly white glow which made things even more nightmarish. Yani was exhausted. She had had no food and only a little water all the day. She feigned sleep, but tension kept her alert. Beneath her eyelids she watched Daria, hoping for an opportunity.

But even though she, too, must have been exhausted, the accursed mage did not sleep. Instead she took a vial from a chest beneath the seat and drank from it. For a few minutes afterward she shuddered. When she lifted her head again, her face was sharp and hard and her eyes glittered. With hands and face twitching wildly, she leapt feverishly upon Yani and laughing shrilly, pinched and poked and slapped her. It was not the beating itself, but Daria’s malice and enjoyment of Yani’s pain that made it horrible.

With breathless speed she asked Yani all the questions she had asked during the day but she did not wait for a reply before she hit her and shouted that she was lying. Then, as suddenly as she had pounced, Daria lost interest in Yani. She took a little cage full of sleepy butterflies from under the seat and shook the cage until they awoke and fluttered around.

“So beautiful,” she cooed before she took them out one by one and pulled them slowly apart, giggling the whole time. Then bored with that, she set upon Yani again. The night seemed to go on for ever.

In the grey light of dawn the carriage slowed, changed direction and after a few moments stopped. Daria sprang up and flung aside the window curtain.

“We’re here,” she cried, as if they were two children returning home. “Safe at last.” She turned on Yani.

“Now we shall see some fun.”

Iron usually burned the skin of mages, but if it bothered Daria, she ignored it. She grabbed Yani by the neck manacle, hauled her out of the carriage and threw her on the ground so easily she must have used magical strength to do it.

Rough male laughter rang out. Yani estimated that there were about ten men in Daria’s troop of guards and she tensed with dread, but no one touched her. The men were probably as exhausted as she was. She dragged herself up. The ground here was wet and muddy rather than hard and nothing was broken. Above them a stone building towered against the grey dawn sky and Daria was scampering up a huge flight of stone stairs towards a big brass door flanked by two smoking torches.

“Bring her!” she shouted.

The building was some kind of fortified manor house, built of crumbling grey stone. Inside was a great hall, lit by torches and a large log fire, where frightened looking servant girls, most of them little more than children, scurried here and there, passing out cups of hot wine. Yani tensed her spine, ready to be attacked by the seven or so men who had followed her up the stairs guffawing and making ribald remarks. But the two who flanked her simply dragged her through the hall and down a long corridor into a large private room, decorated with flags and shields and swords. If only she could get hold of one of those swords.

Daria was standing in front of another big fire. Oh shit! She was drinking from another vial. Did the creature never rest?

The men shoved her into the centre of the room and left with a speed that indicated fear. They obviously knew all about these vials. A table and a set of chairs dominated the room so Yani sat down on one of the chairs, forced her limbs to relax and rest and checked the room over for weak points.

Daria’s brocade gown glistened in the fire light as she leant against the mantelpiece shuddering, but all too soon she was standing before Yani, swaying slightly, her eyes hard and glittering.

“Get up,” she snarled.

As Yani stood nervously before her, there came a frisson of magic, and the torn and filthy gown that she had been wearing since Ishtak suddenly fell in heap around her, leaving her standing naked and barefoot in the centre of the room. Was it the ease of Daria’s power or just the cold that made the goose flesh stand up on Yani’s skin?

“My, my!” said Daria, looking her over intently. “What a lot of scars. You have led an adventurous... What the hell’s this!” she said suddenly, for her pacing had taken her round behind Yani where she could see the black raven wings that were tattooed upon Yani’s shoulders and back.

“Tribal marks,” lied Yani.

“How barbaric,” sneered Daria. Yani could feel her hot breath on her back as she smoothed her hands over the tattoos. Could Daria feel the power in them? No way of knowing.

“These shouldn’t be too hard to cut out,” said Daria, after a moment. “Or shall we flay them off? Ah! Choices, choices!” Her hands slid off Yani’s back. She swung her round to face her.

“Tell me why my brother wants you!”

“I don’t know,” snapped Yani, without looking Daria in the eye. She needed Daria to mindsearch her, but she couldn’t be too eager for it. She needed to convince Daria that no amount of torture would make her tell the truth and that was going to be hard going. Yani set her teeth.

“I think you do know,” said Daria. “I think he’s using you as bait. Who’s coming for you, Meat?” She stroked Yani’s face. “Who?”

Yani screamed as a powerful shot of magic lanced through her.

“You’re going to tell me,” hissed Daria, seizing her by the throat and squeezing. “Who is following? Your father? Your brother?”

“No! Nobody! Nobody! I swear.”

Magic juddered through her again. Daria squeezed her throat as she pushed her face into Yani’s.

“Or is it some big meaty lover who’s going to ride you till you scream with pleasure, hey?”

Magic pain again.

“No,” screamed Yani. “No one will come! I swear it! Please. Just kill me!”

“Pah! Useless lying bitch.”

Daria seized Yani’s head and pressed her fingers to her skull in mindsearch position. Yani squeezed her eyes shut so that her triumph would not show. Daria’s mind came into hers like a blow from an iron bar, a painful violation. Yani forced herself relax, to reach out for the life spirit. It was there as it always was.

A great light burst forth in Yani’s mind, momentarily blinding her. She heard Daria let out a terrible shriek and then excruciatingly, she felt Daria’s presence rip out of her mind. As her vision cleared she saw that Daria was lying on the floor staring in horror. Seizing her chance Yani took a punch at her. To her surprise the dazed mage did not react and Yani knocked her unconscious, enjoying it more than a Tari should. That fixed Daria.

Pulling on her filthy gown and shoes, Yani quickly searched Daria’s unconscious body. No sign of anything as useful as a manacle key. She could hear the men talking and laughing down the hall and dared not stay longer. Daria would wake up soon and since she was a mage, there was no point in wasting time tying her up. Yani made for one of the shuttered windows, pulling an axe and the best looking sword from the wall as she went. Pushing open a shutter she saw that she was only one floor up and, using a couple of banners from the wall knotted together to make a rope, she slid down to the ground below and found herself in a meadow covered in small white and yellow flowers. Dew was sparkling on the grass. At the sight of it, the beauty of the life spirit and its joy filled Yani, soothing away all the horror of the night before and filling her with strength and hope. The life spirit was always there even in the worst of places.

Beyond the meadow was a wall and beyond the wall there looked to be a forest. Yani made towards it.