Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Puppeteer ❯ Jailers and Pain ( Chapter 10 )

I have chapter 10 ready and - well, no more words. Just enjoy. Thanks to everyone reading and love to everyone reviewing! Thanks to my beta Cassie for her work. You should try her work!

 

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Jailers and Pain

 

I opened my eyes, not knowing where I was. Darkness was all around me and then pain crashed over me, waves of agony flooding my system. I let out a strangled cry, my throat dry, and my chest aching with every breath I took. Slowly I realized that I didn't lie on the floor but hung from a wall, handcuffs digging into aching wrists, my arms and shoulders stiff and sore. I was thirsty, my tongue dry like sandpaper and my lips chapped. I could taste dried blood when I licked them. I tried to remember what happened when memories flashed up. The fire! Sorr'an was in the Steel Keg. This man… Can't you see it's too late? Flames flickered out of the roof. The fire spread staggering fast, nobody could escape this hell. I had tried to do something, to extinguish the flames but he was right. I killed people - I didn't remember how many but I remembered the black strings that pulled at my core.

 

Sorr'an was dead. Something in me broke; something I didn't know I had still in me. Well, not important anymore because I was sure that I would rot in this dark brig. Something rattled at the door and a moment later it opened and an ugly, huge guy ducked under the door frame, holding a sooty torch in one hand and a bowl in his other. He pushed the fire in my face, almost burning my skin and my head snapped back, hitting the hard wall behind me. White dots danced in my sight because of the bright flame and the pain that exploded in my skull.

 

“Ah, so you're awake, Puppeteer. Good, you need to eat to stay alive.” He stuck the torch into a holder at the wall and took a wooden, moldy looking spoon from his belt, pushed it into the bowl and then deep into my mouth. My gag reflex kicked in and I coughed the slimy mash out, gobbets of it hitting the jailer's face. “You filthy bastard, spitting at me!” He hit me hard in the face and my vision blurred. When my head met the wall again I was sure that my skull split open. After a few moments the spoon was again pushed into my mouth, this time not as deep as before. I swallowed and a foul taste remained in my mouth but was replaced with an acid one when that bastard threshed his fist into stomach, making me vomit violently. “If you don't like what we serve then you get the special treatment.” When my gagging calmed a little another spoonful of disgusting slime was loaded in my mouth and I gulped it down. Suddenly white stars of agony exploded in my head. That bastard had hit me in my scrotum - hard! The pain crawled up my spine, blossomed over my whole body and again I was fed another mouthful delivered with another blow to my groin. I screamed in misery, tears rolling involuntarily from my eyes. My torturer remarked in a hateful tone: “Seems I find the right spot that hurts you enough to be fun for me but keeps the food down. We don't want you to starve before the judge passed their sentence to you.” When he was done feeding me he opened a waterskin and emptied its contents over my face while I tried to swallow as much from the lukewarm but godly tasting liquid as I could. The jailer punched my jaw for good measurement and then left me in complete darkness once again.

 

From then the days blurred; I was alternately in a semi-consciousness state that was filled with weird dreams, moments of agony when I was fed by different jailers and rare moments of blissful unconsciousness. The dreams were about fires eating up a whole city, burning peoples running out from the fire towards me, Sorr'an, Arias, my mother, Kip, Gerald - I tried to run away from them before they could set me on fire, too. Sometimes I didn't know if I was dreaming or not, fever making my skin burn as if on fire one moment and then made me shiver the next.

 

There were other jailers aside from the first, whom I called Mauler and who had taken a likening in turning my balls in egg-sized, rock-hard stones that ached constantly and had me cry in throes at the slightest contact - not that any of his touches were kind. The others didn't hit me as often and as hard and mostly in my ribs and kidneys - not much of an improvement. One of them was even worse, though. He never hit me, but felt me up in a tender way, caressing the inside my thighs, my over sensitive groin and my stomach, murmuring endearments with it. He also showed me phallus shaped carvings of splintery wood, whispering in my ear that he would prepare me for long nights of joy with him after the judge had set my sentence. His falsetto, touches and filthy words left me shivering in disgust and fear.

 

The humiliation of not being able to move and therefore defecate and urinate on myself, the permanent darkness that robbed me of my sense for time and date, an ongoing, mysterious drain of energy from my body, the pain and ache and constant thirst slowly but steadily planted seeds of madness in my subconscious that started to root. I saw shimmering threads flow through the air, heard sweet voices and smelt fresh, earthy air like the scent after a shower of rain in a forest. I knew they would not hurry to put me on trial because this way they could easily torture me.

 

One day, after Mauler had paid me a visit a few hours ago, the oubliette door opened and two watchmen entered the room, placing a chair a few meters in front of me and a woman entered the room, sitting down with the guards at her side with their swords drawn and gazes fixed on me.

 

“Puppeteer,” the woman sneered, “my name is Fisania Warlando, successor of Mornagol Warlando.” An aristocrat - and my judge I guessed. She was kinda tall for a woman, had light blonde hair tightly pulled back in a bun, wore a high-necked, dark green dress and had plain face with a sharp nose and stern looking eyes. “I am your judge. You're accused of four time murder and of practicing forbidden and demonic magic within the city walls. What do you plead?”

 

I tried to answer, but my throat was dry and swollen so I just coughed violently. The situation seemed suddenly very funny to me, in a rotten hole they called prison with one judge but no jury, and I wasn't even able to defend myself - not that it would have mattered anyway. Welcome to my life. A throaty chuckled left my mouth and suddenly Fisania jumped from her chair and approached me, poking her index finger in my chest but before she could say something she wrinkled her nose and took a step back, gaping for air. “You smell abominable!"

 

My chuckle turned into a maniacal laugh and I croaked out a few words between fits of laughter. “Sorry Milady, if I would have known… you were visiting me today… in my chamber… I would have taken a bath… in rose water.”

 

She surprised me by slapping me hard in the face with the back of her hand. `How unladylike!' “Don't you dare to make fun of me, filthy spawn! While you exercised your hideous magic you killed an elderly man who was my cousin's servant. A boy of eleven years fell victim to exhaustion as did a young, expecting maiden. So what do you plead?”

 

I suddenly grew cold inside with her words; the laughter dying immediately. I remembered now how many black strings there were - three, and one having an additional, small, slightly differently feeling in it. Four livings taken, one of them even unborn, for nothing at all. “Guilty.” I said insensately.

 

She squinted her eyes. “Good. In the name of the Noble Council of Dal Beron, I, Fisania Warlando, administer a death sentence to you, Puppeteer.” She turned on her heels and marched to the door before looking back, her cool demeanor falling off of her and a grimace of hatred appearing on her face. “And because you're just demonic scum that kills for fun it'll be death by hanging - naked. I've heard it's a very filthy and demeaning death, especially for men. The moment you struggle vainly for your life you'll soil yourself with feces and your semen, demoneyes. I'll enjoy watching your end, knowing the world will be a better one without you, demonic spawn!”

 

With this she left the room, her guardians following her and once again I was left in utter darkness, my mind feeling numb.

 

I was woken from another surreal dream, when I heard a clinking sound. I blinked and I could see some light filtering in the cell. `Great, another hallucination.' Closing my eyes I sighed, trying to will away the shadows which tried to overtake my mind when I heard a soft rustling and a quiet whistle. I looked up and saw a small, cloaked figure standing a few meters away from me, a soft glowing stone in their hand. When they approached me I could see their head snap back.

 

“You stink like a latrine pit that was used for weeks, Puppeteer!” a familiar voice announced in a slightly disgusted tone.

 

I blinked. Was this another illusion? No, this couldn't be, oh please, could it be? “Kip? Is this you?”

 

“Yeah, it's me.” Stepping closer he scrutinized me. “You do not only reek like shit, you also look like it.”

 

Hope bloomed in my chest. “It's really you! Kip!” I tried to move fruitlessly.

 

“I swear, if you try to kiss me or anything else ugly I let you rot here!”

 

I swallowed, my throat dry as it was for years it seems, a smile stealing on my face. “It's so good to see you, Kip.” I said his name again as if to make sure that he wasn't a hallucination and would vanish the next blink.

 

“Okay Niven, now stop struggling, I'll free you from your restraints and then we leave this God forlorn pit.” While searching his inside pockets he mumbled: “And if we pass a river or lake I'll throw you in there. They'll smell us three kilometers against the wind!” He got out a small pouch, reached into it and strewed a powder on my handcuffs and shackles. The grains lit up and then black flakes fell to the ground. Kip whistled. “Well, they play it safe. There's Erodeum in these ties - a waste for your sad magic abilities, if you ask me. But okay, then I have to do it the traditional way. Much more fun that way; never was too fond of this magic stuff.”

 

He brought forward a lockpick and started to work on my bonds. Erodeum is a material anti-magic dust is made of by mixing very small amounts of this metal with normal sand. It has two impressive properties: First, it can dissolve magic. In huge amounts and high concentration it can even menace the tremendous ancient magic that's still intact in a few places. Second, it's extremely rare. There are legends that there once was a sword and a full plate armor made of pure Erodeum, but I do not believe they are true. I didn't know Dal Beron had a dungeon cell with ties that had Erodeum mixed in but it explained the constant drain of energy from my system.

 

Kip had opened one handcuff meanwhile and was working on the other. When it opened with a click nothing kept me upright anymore and I started to fall forward face first towards the hard floor. Kip caught me, his arms around my shoulders. “Don't get your hopes high, Puppeteer,” he pressed out while lowering me gently to the ground, turning to the shackles that kept me connected with the stonework.

 

With my arms not above my body anymore, blood started to rush through them and feeling crept back in them, starting with a faint tingle that grew more intense and painful with every heartbeat. I couldn't suppress a groan and Kip looked at me and sighed. “Arias said that you would most probably be in bad shape and gave me this for you.” He rummaged in his cloak pockets and brought up a flask with a pale green liquid in it.

 

The thief uncorked it and held it to my lips but I turned my head away. “Mix blood in it.” I croaked out.

 

Kip blinked but then unsheathed a dagger. “Where do you want the cut? Though the way you look it doesn't matter much I guess.”

 

I coughed and shook my head. “Yours.”

 

The larcener froze. “You're kidding me, right?” I shook my head. “That's some perfidious trick to make your will-less slave so that you can have your wicked and perverted way with me, right?!” Again I shook my head but had to smile a little. As much as his attitude was obnoxious it was something familiar and calming in this scene of personal distress and torture. Kip mumbled: “Yeah, I guess you have now this catboy to stuff your dick in.” A sudden coldness spread in my innards when Kip mentioned Sorr'an and my gaze got unfocused. Something cold prodded against my lips and the purloiner whispered: “Drink it, Niven. I want to get out of here and Arias only pays when I bring you with me, alive!”

 

I nodded and drank the now brownish-grayish liquid that tasted lightly sweet and metallic. Seconds later warmth sprawled in my body and with every heartbeat I regained strength and the pain dulled a little. When both shackles were broken open I replenished enough power to stand up on my own with a hand at the wall. Kip looked at me with a calculating look. “I guess you're not in condition to climb up a rope?” I just stared at him and coughed. “I see. Well, I'm not going to drag your sorry up with a climbing rope, so we have to make our way through the catacombs.” He stepped in a circle of soft moonlight and pulled at the rope that hung from the ceiling in a complicated sequence of tugs and the cord fell to the floor where Kip rolled it up and draped it over his back. He went to the exit and made quick work with the lock there, opened the door and slipped out for a few seconds before returning, signaling me to follow him.

 

I entered a badly lit hallway, a fact that would benefit our flight. A human shaped heap of clothing lay in a corner, blood leaking out from under it. I just hoped it was the Mauler or the guy that wanted to use his splintery wood on me. I shivered for a moment and then followed Kip, the pilferer leading the way mostly downstairs which confused me first but then he mouthed `tower' to me. I wasn't held captive in a dungeon but a prisoner tower, not that it mattered much. We pressed in the dark corners and staircases when flickering shadows and faint noises passed us and luckily Kip didn't have to cut another throat. This way the chance that my escape would be discovered lowered and with some luck I would be somewhere far, far away before they realized I wasn't in my cell, waiting for my hanging.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of cautious skulking and lurking Kip stood in front of a wall at the end of a half-dark corridor, feeling around the brickwork. Suddenly he braced himself against a certain spot and slowly a hidden door swung open. He grinned and just shrugged when I lifted an eyebrow. I followed him outside and took several deep breaths, the fresh air of freedom filling my lungs. My breath caught when I heard a soft babbling of water and looked around.

 

There was a moat a few steps away and a ramp led into the water at this position. I stumbled towards it and carefully, as not to make splashing sounds, kneeled into the water. I ladled up water in my hands and drank greedily from it, the murky sludge tasting like the finest wine from Lesmo Layti. When I wanted to drink a fourth handful, Kip stopped me. “Don't! You will only get stomach cramps and vomit it out. Take it easy, I have two waterskins at our horses.” I nodded though I slightly cringed at the though of having to ride a horse. But anything to get out of this damn town, this town of death and torture…

 

I tagged along Kip once again and after a short run through the shadows he ducked behind some bushes and I followed him. There was a soft whinnying when the thief patted the nostrils of two horses I've never seen before. They both were black as were their saddles and bridles and the hooves were wrapped with thick, dark clothes. Both horses shied away from me when I neared. Kip calmed them with soothing words I couldn't understand and then, a little louder, he addressed me. “They don't like the stench that sticks to you. I don't like it either.” The animals seemed to settle down a little with Kip's effort and the cutthroat added quieter, but still hearable: “I wouldn't want him to ride me neither, Inridian. But it's just for this night.” I rolled my eyes when he handed me the reigns and we both mounted a horse. The fabric muffled the hoofbeats while we trotted to the city gates through small, deserted and dark alleys. When we reached the East-Gate, the smallest of the five gates that led into Dal Beron, Kip dismounted and vanished in the small sentry post and a few moments later he returned with a guard who opened the small door in the huge metal leaves of the gate. I dismounted, too, and Kip and I guided our horses outside and then took off in canter while the door closed behind us.

 

The ride took its toll on me and when the potion from Arias wore off exhaustion and pain dawned upon me, making it harder and harder to stay on horseback with my limited riding abilities. I hoped we would stop at the inn Sorr'an and I had rested for a night but Kip kept the fast pace. When the city walls of Arrandar came in sight the horses were panting harshly and I clung barely to consciousness. Only the pain, that blossomed in my groin and washed over my body with every step the horse made, kept me awake. Again we approached a smaller gate and this time Kip rapped against the door in a rhythm that was well-known to me and slipped a porch through the spyhole that opened to the knock and the whole door opened. When I dismounted my legs gave away and I tumbled to the ground. Kip helped me up and I leaned against the wall while he led the horses through the door in the gates.

 

He looked at me. “Get yourself together, Puppeteer. We're already there.” I nodded and tried to step forward but would have fallen down again if Kip hadn't caught me. “Okay, I should have known that you would try everything to get on a horse with me. But I sit behind you, perv!” He helped me mount his horse and then sat behind me, while I clutched to the saddle horn, Kip's arms around my torso holding the reigns and stabilizing me.

 

While we rode carefully through abandoned and empty streets towards Arias' house, I murmured: “Thank you, Kip. I'm really grateful for this.”

 

He sneered back: “Well, I'm grateful for all the gold Arias will pay me for getting your half rotten carcass back to him. The Gods know what he sees in you.”

 

After a moment of silence I thought I heard a `You're welcome, Niven' but that could have been my imagination. When we arrived at Arias' mansion I almost plummeted to the ground barely held by Kip till Gerald had a grip on me and helped me from the horse. Both men supported me when we entered the house. I saw Arias' worried face and Elise's shocked expression when everything went black before my eyes.

 

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