Crown of Crystal Flame
Page 127
Ellysetta’s vision blurred, and the world tilted crazily. She and all the Fey fell, unconscious, to the stone floor.
Eld ~ Boura Fell
Ellysetta woke to the sickly sweet smell of rotting fruit and the taste of misery in her mouth. Her bones ached. Her flesh throbbed.
She could hear the moans of tortured creatures, feel the despair sapping her soul. This was a place without hope, without Light, and she knew she’d fallen into one of the Seven Hells.
Her muscles clenched, shuddering as the sting of a thousand icy knives stabbed into her soul. She swallowed, then coughed.
Sel’dor cloaked her in bitter, burning pain. A collar of enslavement about her neck, manacles about her wrists and ankles.
Her lashes fluttered as she forced her eyes open. Expecting darkness, she was surprised to find herself in the center of a well-appointed room. Beautifully furnished—deceptively so, because beneath the silken surface, she could feel the acid burn of sel’dor.
She turned her head, her gaze moving instinctively towards the corner of the room where a shrouded figure stood in the shadows. As the figure approached her, the formless shroud became rich purple Mage robes draped around a tall frame.
The Mage threw back his cowl, and Ellysetta frowned in confusion at the stranger standing by her bedside. She had expected the High Mage, the architect of her nightmares, with his cloud of white hair framing a face that seemed both ancient and ageless. But this Mage was young and fit and… handsome. That seemed so wrong. Evil shouldn’t wear a pleasing face.
Only the cold, silver eyes seemed familiar. That and the cruelty curled at the corner of his mouth.
Then he spoke, and though the sound of the voice was as unfamiliar as his face, the smug, conscienceless evil that resonated in every word was all too familiar. Whatever face he wore, whatever voice he used, this was the High Mage of Eld, the dark evil presence that had pursued and tormented her all her life.
“Welcome, my dear, to Boura Fell.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You’ve led me quite a chase for many years, but all that is at an end. You shall not escape me again.” The Mage’s expression was cool, his tone almost pleasant, but there was no mistaking the Darkness that shadowed his every word.
Ellysetta sat up with effort. The weight of her sel’dor bindings was so heavy she could barely move. She lifted her hands to the collar and brushed the backs of her fingers against the dozens of burning rings that pierced the lobes of her ears. Another half dozen armbands, lined with hundreds of sharp teeth, circled both arms with ropes of pain, and around her ankles, heavy manacles clamped tight, their sharp spikes driving into her bones.
The Mage watched her with cold eyes. “I don’t usually take such precautions with my female guests, but experience has taught me not to underestimate you.”
She licked her dry lips. “I know what you want. You will not have it. I’ll die before I surrender my soul to you.”
The edge of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “Such brave words. The Fey are always brave at first. But even the greatest among them has a weakness, and you, my dear, have many.” He snapped his fingers, and two burly guards stepped forward. They hauled her unceremoniously up, releasing her manacles from the chains that had bound her to the bed and setting her on her feet.
«Rain!» She tried to call him on their private path, but her body suddenly convulsed in agony. A scream ripped from her throat, and she dropped to the ground. She lay there, shuddering and gasping for breath as she waited for the pain to recede.
“They all try that, too,” the Mage informed her. “I don’t advise it. I’ve bound you in more sel’dor than any other guest of mine has ever borne.”
When the worst of the pain had passed, and she could move again, Ellysetta lifted her head and glared at him. “What have you done with Rain?” He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. She’d know if he were—wouldn’t she?
“Oh, he’s here, never fear. And you shall see him, I promise. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to it. But first things first.” He glanced at the guards and all pretense of civility—gloating or otherwise—dropped away. Silver eyes glittered with cold command. “Bring her.”
The guards hauled Ellysetta to her feet by her chains and shoved her after the High Mage of Eld.
When the news first reached the umagi dens about the Fey captured trying to invade Boura Fell, a communal groan went up. The skrants knew what new prisoners meant: more mouths to feed, more bodies to dispose of, more torture chambers to scrub clean of blood, vomit, and the various other by-products of the Mage’s favorite pastime.
Only recently released from the punishment detail she’d earned for missing two whole work shifts while stealing Lord Death’s weapons and crystal, Melliandra had a different reaction: a gut-churning mix of excitement and terror.
Her time had come.
Unfortunately, the circumstances of that time were riskier than she’d ever imagined they could be. The same gossip who brought them the rumors about invaders also brought news that Lord Death and his mate had been moved to the observation chambers for the High Mage’s entertainment. He would be under heavy guard, and he would be constantly tortured, then healed, then tortured again. If she thought for one moment that she would get another chance to kill the High Mage, she wouldn’t even think about approaching Lord Death now. She would have waited until Lord Shan was back in his cell, manacled but otherwise unrestrained in his barbed cage.
Eld ~ Boura Fell
Ellysetta woke to the sickly sweet smell of rotting fruit and the taste of misery in her mouth. Her bones ached. Her flesh throbbed.
She could hear the moans of tortured creatures, feel the despair sapping her soul. This was a place without hope, without Light, and she knew she’d fallen into one of the Seven Hells.
Her muscles clenched, shuddering as the sting of a thousand icy knives stabbed into her soul. She swallowed, then coughed.
Sel’dor cloaked her in bitter, burning pain. A collar of enslavement about her neck, manacles about her wrists and ankles.
Her lashes fluttered as she forced her eyes open. Expecting darkness, she was surprised to find herself in the center of a well-appointed room. Beautifully furnished—deceptively so, because beneath the silken surface, she could feel the acid burn of sel’dor.
She turned her head, her gaze moving instinctively towards the corner of the room where a shrouded figure stood in the shadows. As the figure approached her, the formless shroud became rich purple Mage robes draped around a tall frame.
The Mage threw back his cowl, and Ellysetta frowned in confusion at the stranger standing by her bedside. She had expected the High Mage, the architect of her nightmares, with his cloud of white hair framing a face that seemed both ancient and ageless. But this Mage was young and fit and… handsome. That seemed so wrong. Evil shouldn’t wear a pleasing face.
Only the cold, silver eyes seemed familiar. That and the cruelty curled at the corner of his mouth.
Then he spoke, and though the sound of the voice was as unfamiliar as his face, the smug, conscienceless evil that resonated in every word was all too familiar. Whatever face he wore, whatever voice he used, this was the High Mage of Eld, the dark evil presence that had pursued and tormented her all her life.
“Welcome, my dear, to Boura Fell.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You’ve led me quite a chase for many years, but all that is at an end. You shall not escape me again.” The Mage’s expression was cool, his tone almost pleasant, but there was no mistaking the Darkness that shadowed his every word.
Ellysetta sat up with effort. The weight of her sel’dor bindings was so heavy she could barely move. She lifted her hands to the collar and brushed the backs of her fingers against the dozens of burning rings that pierced the lobes of her ears. Another half dozen armbands, lined with hundreds of sharp teeth, circled both arms with ropes of pain, and around her ankles, heavy manacles clamped tight, their sharp spikes driving into her bones.
The Mage watched her with cold eyes. “I don’t usually take such precautions with my female guests, but experience has taught me not to underestimate you.”
She licked her dry lips. “I know what you want. You will not have it. I’ll die before I surrender my soul to you.”
The edge of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “Such brave words. The Fey are always brave at first. But even the greatest among them has a weakness, and you, my dear, have many.” He snapped his fingers, and two burly guards stepped forward. They hauled her unceremoniously up, releasing her manacles from the chains that had bound her to the bed and setting her on her feet.
«Rain!» She tried to call him on their private path, but her body suddenly convulsed in agony. A scream ripped from her throat, and she dropped to the ground. She lay there, shuddering and gasping for breath as she waited for the pain to recede.
“They all try that, too,” the Mage informed her. “I don’t advise it. I’ve bound you in more sel’dor than any other guest of mine has ever borne.”
When the worst of the pain had passed, and she could move again, Ellysetta lifted her head and glared at him. “What have you done with Rain?” He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. She’d know if he were—wouldn’t she?
“Oh, he’s here, never fear. And you shall see him, I promise. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to it. But first things first.” He glanced at the guards and all pretense of civility—gloating or otherwise—dropped away. Silver eyes glittered with cold command. “Bring her.”
The guards hauled Ellysetta to her feet by her chains and shoved her after the High Mage of Eld.
When the news first reached the umagi dens about the Fey captured trying to invade Boura Fell, a communal groan went up. The skrants knew what new prisoners meant: more mouths to feed, more bodies to dispose of, more torture chambers to scrub clean of blood, vomit, and the various other by-products of the Mage’s favorite pastime.
Only recently released from the punishment detail she’d earned for missing two whole work shifts while stealing Lord Death’s weapons and crystal, Melliandra had a different reaction: a gut-churning mix of excitement and terror.
Her time had come.
Unfortunately, the circumstances of that time were riskier than she’d ever imagined they could be. The same gossip who brought them the rumors about invaders also brought news that Lord Death and his mate had been moved to the observation chambers for the High Mage’s entertainment. He would be under heavy guard, and he would be constantly tortured, then healed, then tortured again. If she thought for one moment that she would get another chance to kill the High Mage, she wouldn’t even think about approaching Lord Death now. She would have waited until Lord Shan was back in his cell, manacled but otherwise unrestrained in his barbed cage.
