Chapter 59. The Prisoners

he awakened to screaming, her nerves sheared by its sound.  Crescent Blade rolled onto her side on the rough wooden bench of her cell and gazed into the open area beyond her bars.  What she saw horrified her.  The fox-haired man was writhing on the ground in exquisite agony, his chains rattling as he kicked and squirmed to fight something off, something that was not visible to her.  And standing over him was Master Bei.

Only it was not the Master Bei she remembered.  This one had the same predatory grace and beauty, but his visage was harsh with cruelty.  He strode slowly in a wide circle around Pendaran’s trembling form, delighting in his strangled cries.

“I used that one to kill your brother,” he gloated, “His screams were quite delightful. He sobbed for his mother in the end.”

He chanted a harsh word and gestured.  Pendaran lay gasping on his side, his back rounded to fend off blows.  Blood trailed from his lips and nose, his face haggard from too little sleep and too much suffering.

“There, I removed it, was that not kind and merciful?  Now you will serve me.”

“No,” Pendaran whispered, choking and splattering the floor before him with blood as he made an attempt to move away from Zhou.  Chained as he was, he could do little more than crawl as the menacing figure stepped slowly after him, hovering like a vulture in his grim black attire.

“I am your master, you must obey.”

Pendaran lay still, his tormented features betraying his inward struggle with grief and fatigue.  How long had Zhou been doing this to him?  She flinched as Bei’s cruel figure grasped the heavy iron collar around Pendaran’s throat and drew him up, choking him until he rested upon his shins.  The fox-haired man wobbled slightly when he was released but remained sitting, his chained hands resting upon his lap in an attitude of obedience.  He made no sound as Bei retrieved a bucket from a low table and filled it with water from a stone trough.  He doused Pendaran three times, rinsing away blood, vomit and filth as the Tyrian stared fixedly at the wet flagstones.

“Get up.”

It was too much to bear.  Crescent Blade turned over to face the wall as the poor man struggled to his shackled feet and was made to shuffle into the neighboring cell. Keys and chain jingled followed by the metallic roar of the door slamming closed and its lock being made fast.  Her heart pounded in fear as Zhou walked menacingly past her cage on his way to the door that led out of that terrible place.  For many long minutes she stayed motionless, even after he was gone. In the dim torchlight she waited, listening, afraid to draw attention to herself. The fox-haired man broke down and wept softly.  It was heart rending and sympathetic tears gathered in her eyes. No doubt he was in the same terrible predicament, alone and doomed.  No one would come looking for them, and even if they did, no one could find them.  She had caught a glimpse of the world outside her prison and it was like nothing she knew.  The stars were dead points of brutal light, the ground was reminiscent of raw flesh, and the miasmal air burned her lungs.  If she was not dead already, she must have arrived early to Torment.

She waited until his weeping subsided, granting him what little dignity remained to him before she stirred. Their cells lacked privacy being little more than a pen barely ten paces square defined by rough walls and floor to ceiling bars.  Three of them lined this side of the room and another three faced them on the opposite side.  The central area was the torturer’s domain with its long low tables of implements, a central table equipped with sturdy straps, and an equally terrible chair.  As far as she could tell, there were no other prisoners.  She had not yet suffered more than confinement and privation.

In fact, it was as if she did not exist.  Master Tan had cast her into the cage and she had not seen him since.  Occasionally a demonic figure entered to replace the torches, but no food or water was forthcoming. There was no means of tracking time.  Crescent Blade felt as if she had been there for days.  She was hungry and thirsty but she had not the temerity to raise a ruckus and make demands.  One did not draw the attention of villains like Master Tan.  He was too fond of cruelty, too prone to abuses of power.

Until Zhou and Pendaran had arrived, she had heard no other human voices.  Crescent Blade stalked silently to the grid of iron that separated their cells, her hands trembling as she rested them against the bars.  If Pendaran knew she was there, he made no sign.  He sat pressed against bars near the door to his cage.  A vile spiked collar encircled his neck and a chain attached it to the bars above him. He started to nod off but snapped awake as the dull spikes pressed into the sensitive flesh of his throat. 

It was her fault he was there.  She had taken away the protection of his guild and his master and now he was prey to the tender mercies of Master Tan.  Yet she was confused by the presence of Zhou and his hideous guise.  What had happened to make him turn so completely to evil that he would now treat his beloved apprentice with such cruelty?

“Peng Ren?” she murmured, regretting that she had disturbed him when his visage contorted with pain and he opened his eyes.  He said nothing and she hesitated when she felt the hardness in his gaze, “What happened?”

“You tell me, Miss Lhan,”

“But wasn’t that your master?”

Pendaran leaned his head against the bars and signed wearily.  He shifted his feet and leaned his weight upon his left thigh, every movement a struggle.

“You know Master Bei is not evil,” Pendaran coughed, “That thing is not him.  It may have existed within him at one time, but I can feel Zhou’s presence within me.  They are not one and the same.”

She hesitated, confused by his words.  He must be maddened by pain and fatigue to babble so.

“So you are an assassin,” he murmured, “Never liked them myself.  You’d be amused by my strange fear.  Ming frightens me so badly sometimes I nearly soil myself. She has had to avoid using the shadows near me.”

He laughed hoarsely and the sound was harsh and bitter, resembling sobbing.  A chill ran down her spine when she realized he knew what she was.  How much had he guessed?

“I’m sorry,” she said, at a loss for anything comforting or clever to say.

“Two of them tried to kill me,” he croaked, “I’m standing in a marketplace and it’s a beautiful autumn day.  I’m talking to an old friend I haven’t seen since before the Searing.  Next thing I know there are daggers and I am bleeding to death. Shadows everywhere.”

“They must have been bad assassins if two of them could not kill you.”

“You must be a bad assassin if you could not bring yourself to kill my master.”

She swallowed and sank to the floor, leaning against the bars as she gazed upon him.

“If you had succeeded, you would not be here now. Do you regret your decision?”

“No,” she said truthfully, “If I had succeeded, I would be no better than Master Tan.”

“Good.  Would you like another chance to kill him?”

“What?”

“Do you have any qualms about killing this Zhou?”

“Of course not.”

He lifted his shackled hands and threw something toward her.  It landed with a dull metallic rattle.  Keys.

“How…?”

“He’ll be missing them eventually.  There are sharp objects on that table, I suggest you arm yourself. And drop the keys near the door so he’ll think they fell off of his belt.”

She quickly gathered up the keys and rushed to the lock on her cell, fumbling with them until she found one that fit.  The lock shifted with a grating protest and she hurried into the open, gazing upon the rows of gleaming implements until she spotted one that was both sharp but easily concealed.  Following his instructions, she dropped the key near the door and rushed back to her cell, shutting herself back inside and retreating to her bench.

“What if he reads my mind?” she whispered.

“The same enchantment that prevents you from shadow stepping out prevents him from reaching you inside.  Once I have hexed him, you will have only a few moments to strike.  Just stay out of his sight and beneath his interest until then.”

Crescent Blade curled up on the bench again, trembling with fear and anticipation.

“Do you think we can escape?”

Pendaran sighed softly and shook his head.

“Honestly? No, but I’m not willing to give up.  Not while there is hope for my master.”

They were silent for a time as Pendaran tried unsuccessfully to doze against the bars. His head rose sharply to the grating sound of the door rumbling open and Crescent Blade’s stomach flipped with fear.  The vile man scanned the chamber, then knelt to pick up the keys.  She remained where she had been, pretending to sleep with the blade stashed safely in the crack between the bench and the wall.

Pendaran stirred, his chains clinking loudly as he staggered to his feet and moved away from the door to his cage at the farthest end of his collar tether.

“Come here,” Zhou Li snapped.  Crescent Blade dared a glance at him and noted he was carrying a covered bowl, “Eat this.”

“No,” Pendaran croaked.

Predictably, the man stepped forward malevolently and jammed the key into the lock, flinging aside the metal door.  He released the chain that tethered Pendaran to the bars and tugged once, eliciting a cry of pain.  Pendaran staggered outside of his cage and dropped to his knees.  Zhou Li laughed harshly and set it on the ground before Pendaran as if he were feeding a dog.

It was then she saw the subtle shimmer of magenta energies gather around Pendaran’s shoulders and watched as Zhou Li shrieked in rage.  In an instant she sprang to her feet and pushed the door open, shadow stepping to the man’s back and stabbing him ferociously.  Pendaran shoved him through the open door to his cage.

“Close the door!” he roared as he pounded the man’s face with his knitted hands, the shackles impacting with a harsh rattle. 

Writhing under the hex, Zhou Li fought back, hauling down on Pendaran’s collar until the pain forced him to roll onto the floor.  Crescent Blade planted a kick to Zhou Li’s temple, only to be flung back against the bars as the man staggered with a snarl to his feet.  Pendaran did not have to tell her to keep him confined to the cell where magic would fail him.  She rose, standing between him and the door, the dagger sticky with his blood.  He launched toward her with a roar only to crumble with a cry of agonized rage as Pendaran caught him around the ankles with his manacle chains then proceeded to pound him ferociously, his visage white with fear and determination.  Crescent Blade bounded onto the man’s chest and sliced down as he flailed beneath her, much stronger than his light frame suggested.  He thundered beneath her, black ichor erupting from the gash in his throat.  Golden skin blackened and pulsed with unnatural fury, venomous eyes burned from the midnight hollows of his transformed visage.

Frantic, Crescent Blade stabbed again and again, pushing her entire weight into each strike.  It had to die!  It would not die!  Shrieking with rage and terror, her flesh burning under its rain of foul black blood, she went for its eyes.

“Keisha.”

“Die!  Damn you, Die!” she screamed at its lidless eyes.  Its lipless jaws gaped, revealing lines of dagger teeth.

“Keisha, it’s dead,” Pendaran panted, lying on his back.

Trembling with adrenalin, she backed away in disgust, fighting an urge to vomit as the foul smelling creature rotted before her.  Pendaran fumbled back to his knees and searched the robes for keys, releasing the locks and casting the collar off with an oath.

“Rinse that blood off,” he told her.  Numbly, she went to the trough, retrieving the bucket that had earlier been used to douse Pendaran.  He climbed to his feet and methodically stripped the clothing and boots from the corpse despite their reek.  He joined her at the trough to rinse them clean before wringing them out and donning them still damp and dripping.  Disgusting as they were, he could not very well go forth naked.  He used a knife to split the leather over the toes of the ill-fitting boots.  They were not pretty, but he was no longer unshod.

“Now comes the hard part,” he murmured.  She swallowed and nodded.  One down.  Gods only knew how many more times they would have to fight.  And there was no guarantee they could escape even if they succeeded in slaying their foes.