Chapter Thirty-Nine

Amberosin’s left eye was swollen shut. Her lips were split in more than one spot, top, and bottom, and she was sure her face sported more than a fair amount of bruises. Still, she found herself smiling.

Amberosin hadn’t let that spiteful smile fade since White started pounding away at her with his massive gloved fists as punishment for her disrespect. The fresh crimson that stained his white leather boundaries only made her victory that much sweeter in the end. She knew the man probably had millions of pairs so it didn’t matter much… but White definitely cared. That was enough for her. As soon as Amberosin let the food fly from her mouth she knew she had him. White’s hands sprang from the table, he’d stood tall and shook so hard all the cutlery and plates trembled along with him. She felt the first hit before she had seen anything. Amberosin smiled upon impact.

That all you got old man?

She didn’t say it. Didn’t have to. Her expression practically screamed it.

White hit her again, same fist, hard enough this time to knock her to the floor where he couldn’t see Amberosin’s smirking face. Amberosin roared, made sure White knew she was enjoying herself even more. He responded, ever promptly, with a leaden foot to her guts. She heard the table slide from between them as she fought for air he’d just stolen. It crashed hard somewhere to their right, sounded a lot like wood had splintered and fallen to the floor. Amberosin was still grinning from ear to ear as White grabbed her dirty collar and lifted her up to what she had to imagine was eye level. Her feet were off the ground, swaying carelessly.

The small movement gave her the momentum she needed to see just behind Lord White’s smooth-horned helmet. They’d made enough noise that a servant’s head popped, a head wrapped in a thin colorful cloth, broke through the threshold. Just for a second. Enough light made it inside during that brief moment that her eyes stung a bit, blinking through blood wasn’t making that any better, but she forced them open and took in everything she could. Outside of her seemingly regal, ‘lady-like’ room there was nothing but concrete hallways adorned with harsh lights that were nowhere near as effective as the estorches she’d seen in glimpses of nobles' homes and estates.

One set of lights was spinning on the hallway wall. Almost directly next to her room.

Oh, that tricky little fucker.

There was no moonlight coming in, no sign of a time of day or night. White wanted to distract her… no, that wasn’t right… he wanted to make her believe she’d been there longer than she had! Amberosin had made a guess at five days before so now she knew it had to be less than that.

Amberosin had gotten what she needed and her attention to the lights didn’t go unnoticed by Lord White. He screamed at the servant who had opened the door, dropped Amberosin, and stormed out of the room. After a few moments, the lights outside of her “window” went out. She was left in a pitch-black emptiness for a few hours that she spent fumbling around her gaudy, gargantuan cell. When Amberosin found the bed she happily laid down and took a well-deserved rest.

She’d been woken, all too short a time later, when her bedroom door crept open in a deliberately unhurried manner. Amberosin remained unmoving in bed for a moment and waited for her visitor to come into view through squinted eyes. After a few moments spent turning on dim lights situated around the room a meek old woman, bald-headed with a cloth draped over her scalp, came in with a platter and set it on Amberosin’s bedside table. The dining table sat shattered against a wall far to the right, splinters of thick oakwood and cutlery strewed about the floor around it. A lovely monument to her victorious rousing of Lord White.

“Excuse me?”

Amberosin did her best to keep a neutral tone. She didn’t know this woman and despite her obviously working for Lord White, she wore the garbs of an Indentured. Most of the Indentured in White’s estate, from what she’d gathered months ago gathering intel for her successfully, suddenly unimportant, heist had almost all been slaves before the Fracturing. Free people in name only. Because of that Amberosin wouldn’t allow herself to judge her based solely on the woman's position.. Though the emblazoned “W” on the woman’s garments spiked Amberosin’s blood at every glimpse.

Just like my scar… except she can take the brand off. Technically.

“Yes, miss?” The woman bowed her head slightly and the cloth atop her scalp slid forward, falling over her eyes.

“Please, don’t bow to me. And… just call me Amberosin. Okay?”

Elderly, tired yellow/green eyes met her own. Full of tears that threatened to stain the woman’s lovely, warm cocoa skin. “Yes m… Amberosin.” She smirked and stood as tall as she could, which wasn’t much straighter than her bow.

Amberosin reached up and touched her eye that was, at the time, completely closed and bulging like a lonely man’s groin outside of a brothel he’d been eyeing out all day.

Only a few hours then? Good. “Would you happen to have any ice?”

With a negligible nod only confirmed by her eye contact with Amberosin, the elderly Indentured woman left the room. She was able to count to one thousand and two hundred while she ate, waiting for the woman to come back. When she walked through the threshold she pushed a cart with a pail of ice, some washcloths, and a bottle of oils sat on top.

Twenty minutes? Is that just because she's aged and slow?

A few minutes watching her work in Amberosin’s room dispelled any notions that the woman may be slow. Aged- definitely, however, she moved about the room prepping a hundred tasks at once, and Amberosin couldn’t tell what about half of those tasks were. Ice was set in a purple cloth that seemed to wrap about the cold chunks all on its own and given to Amberosin while she watched. The Indentured popped open four or five different vials of fetid oils, mix their entire contents into one concoction at the bottom of a large cauldron pulled from the bottom shelf of her cart, and pull out a pint’s worth of ambrosial liquid that reminded Amberosin of waking to the many-layered scents of early morning underneath large leaf laden trees in the Wilder’s. She even caught a whiff of dew.

White’s Indentured spent a moment warming the pint on a small circular sheet that warmed with the turn of a few tiny grey knobs. Once the temperature was set where she desired she left the large glass container full of morning’s scents on the warming plate and made her way over to Amberosin. She pushed the young girl’s hand further onto her bruise which stung like no other but was something she’d needed to do to begin with. Amberosin nodded a polite thank you and smiled. Odd how she felt like this woman had authority over her. Even more perplexing to Amberosin was that the woman didn’t seem to take any advantage of that supposed authority.

Prisoner and Indentured? What’s the difference?

“Can I ask your name?”

“You can ask anything you please mis- Amberosin. Here, like all in my station, I am simply Indentured. Nothing more.”

“That is not a name.”

“It is a name. Just not the one you were looking for.”

She gave Amberosin a keen-eyed smirk that only those over a certain age can manage and held a wet cloth in her hand. Amberosin nodded that she could do as she needed. Slowly, very gently, she rubbed the warm cloth up and down Amberosin’s arms. The grim slid right off onto the fabric and when they got soiled all the Indentured had to do was flick her fingers with a small cast of essence and the cloth became pristine once more.

Is that how she did so much at once? She had barely seen a glow on the woman. Or is she just that good?

Amberosin allowed the Indentured woman to work the warm, sweet-smelling cloth, no doubt doused in the ambrosial oils at some point or another, all the way down her legs and dirt-caked feet in silence. Each body part came away pristine with the scent of the WIlder’s waking. She stopped at every hemline of Amberosin’s disgusting clothes, moved to the next piece of exposed skin, cleaned her rag, and repeated until Amberosin was the cleanest she had been in a long, long time. And she had never smelled so great.

“Thank you.” Amberosin paused and watched the woman as she prepared two rags and set them on the nightstand.

“These are for you to use on your… personal areas, my dear.”

Personal areas. That is adorable. “ Much appreciated, Mrs…” Amberosin saw the woman smile but she turned her back and went about putting together her cart. Just before she left, however, she stopped.

“Desinra Bin-Dresil. Desi, to most.”

“Oh my, Desi you hound! Correct me if I am wrong but doesn’t a hyphen in the name mean you’re a married woman? How would your lifelong lover feel if they knew how you were touching all over little ole me?” Amberosin smiled to let it be known she jested in good fun but her face fell flat when she saw the sorrow rise in the woman’s entire being. Desi’s stature slumped, her head leaned forward, almost parallel with the ground for a moment before she turned half of her face back to Amberosin. Desi smiled but there was a huge crystalline drop cutting down her cheek.

“Widowed, dear. Very recently widowed.”

With that Desi made her exit. The dim lights in the room went out with her.

***

“Ra-a-gs” a short song rang out of the infinite dark.

She’s here! Rags shot up and sucked in as much light as he could, though he knew shadows rode the rays into his iris’ as well, there was little to no choice left. He needed to see, after all. Their game was afoot.

Silent as a stone heart left in the cavity of death, he stepped once to the side. Waited.

“Rags, you know you’ll have to do better than that.”

She's closer now. So, so, so close. He could hear her short, excited gasps as she rode swirling shadows around him in circles. Rag’s body pulsed hard along with the blood in his veins, especially a bit below his waistline. He could almost feel Marina smile at that.

“Of course…. You could just want me to catch you.” Just a whisper behind his left ear. Rags could feel it chilling his skin at the nape but it warmed the rest of him with ethereal pleasure. “You tricky little-” Marina was suddenly before him, her hand wrapped around his throbbing excitement, “- oh, I suppose I should say, big man, shouldn’t I?” A light giggle swam around his head. She was gone again. Rags could feel the phantom of her hand still on him.

“You can say whatever you like, Lady Marina. Just so long as you promise to say it to me. Only to me.” All the air around him grew fierce with heat. Rags smiled.

Go ahead.

He heard a tear, a rush of wind, and the sound of a fist smacking his abdomen. He felt the impact throughout his whole being and nearly crumpled to the floor. Nearly. Rags never saw Marina or her fist but he knew exactly how each felt. Could already tell when she was holding back on him. “Oh, come now. I am yours, entirely. My Lady.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the possessive parts or just being called “Lady” but it triggered her, as always. Marina came yelling from above Rags this time, fully visible to his eyes now, whether it was because he’d consumed more light essence or simply sucked down more shadows, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. She was beautiful. Here, in his pitch-black paradise, she was everything. The fact that Marina had dispelled her own shade in the dark domain and allowed Rags to see her beguiled and intrigued him. It meant she wanted him to see her.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Instead of trying to brace for a strike or roll out of her way Rags willed some of the darkness about them to slow her, just barely and threw himself to his back on the ground. A small cloud of dark met him before he hit anything hard and not a moment later Marina was on top of him. She landed on him hard enough to knock the breath out of him but he still grinned up at her, arms to his side. Defenseless. Their bodies warmed each other the longer she sat there, staring at him intensely. He felt as if they were humming- vibrating, on their own shared frequency. It was intoxicating.

Marina beamed. “So, you can move them on your own now? Been practicing without me?” She straddled her legs down against him. Forcefully grinding herself against him, leaving his own naked erection slick with tingling wetness.

“Impressed?”

“Entirely.” She smirked down, rotating her hips ever so delicately. Guiding him without her hands. “Took me a bit longer to master, I’ll admit. I’m excited to see what all you can do!”

And there, again, she transformed his dark prison into an exotic den of paradise and pleasure. And there, again, he took in as much essence from her shades, her body, as he could manage. Consuming her little by little. It was the one time his mediocrity with casting had done him any good. Couldn’t work outside of his own skillset, no matter how badly he wanted to. But, he was doing his best. With a little help from ‘Rags’ and the darkness around him, unwitting help from Marina herself, he was putting his all into everything. She was everything to Rags. He hung on her every word. Her every movement.

It was the perfect part.

Ragoth picked up on the play as soon as Marina had called him Rags for the first time. She’d expected whatever he had absorbed to break his mind entirely, not counting on the fact that it had already been broken. Ragoth was hidden deep inside himself for years, he had become Mezir De Blancana, or his own version of the great man at the least. When the shadows rode in on the small flecks of light he’d absorbed they snared and killed the man that was there; they had killed the false Mezir.

Ragoth remained.

Ragoth was no fool. In fact, his intellect had always been his only strength. That and his undeniably meager look. Even now he looked too thin for a man his age and the red hair, once common to the Nomad’s, complemented other’s dark skin, but not his own. Ragoth felt it shadowed the rest of his visage. His skin was not dark enough to pop against in and had too much of a light red undertone itself to match his hair’s intensity. As such, he looked like a misplaced, sickly man no matter where one put him.

Ragoth knew his role and he played it well.

So far as he’d been able to discern Marina had only kept him captive for a couple of days at most. He’d been tracking minutes in his head, approximating heavily of course, and gotten to some time more than one day, but less than three. Ragoth didn’t hold much confidence in his own mathematical abilities anymore to be honest, his mind had been sluggish since being decimated by Lord White, but he held enough confidence still to inspire some hope.

If it really only had been a couple of days he still had a tiny chance to escape. To redeem himself a lifetime of wasteful cowardice. Ragoth didn’t want to waste that chance when it arose. So he watched Marina carefully and felt himself fill with her energy. He reached out to the essence of shadow around them that seemed so willing to conform to his being, to abandon Marina without hesitation.

She is going to climax! Rags screamed inside, belligerently excited to please his mistress.

Yes. She sure is. Ragoth was just as, if not more, elated, but he let Rags take all the pleasure and joy of Marina’s wildly bucked hips slamming ever harder against his own. An agonizing pleasure that Ragoth ignored as he commanded shadows to tangle about her arms. They clamped tight. Squeezed until her arms revealed bulging veins.

She liked that. Rags was certain of it. Ragoth’s body confirmed.

Good. Then she’ll love this.

A thought, almost in unison, that both shared; albeit with very different intent. A thought that ended with their hands about Marina’s neck. Rags choking metered, squeezing gently, little by little, as one does a lover who enjoys the thrill. Ragoth allowed it, took a back seat so to speak. Marina was reaching her apex now, nearly screaming on top of them with her hands restrained to the side by tentacles of pure darkness. Rags wrapped his hands about her neck tighter. Harder. Just a little bit more pressure, her neck was turning red. Rags knew her limit, they were close. Harder. Rags relented. Marina was enjoying herself, who was he to stop her? Their knuckles were nearly white now. She soaked their manhood in pure ecstasy. Rags wanted to let go of her now, she looked more purple than red. Harder. Rags didn’t want to. Marina was his love, his mistress. He couldn’t kill her.

Ragoth understood. Couldn’t well expect a man to kill someone he loved, could he?

No. Rags couldn’t bare down any harder. So Ragoth did. Marina must have noticed the change in his grip, the rigid, unrelenting cold that traveled down his hands and held her in place. Ragoth was sure his face reflected even less warmth. He wanted it to freeze Marina. Her bulging dilated eyes told him he had succeeded. He could feel the naked, vulnerable woman reach out to the shadows, to the darkness that had enveloped her and obeyed her every command. He felt them turn their back on her.

He squeezed tighter. The shadows wrapping about his hands lent their own strength. Marina’s neck cracked with a sickening sound that awoke Ragoth to the darkness about him and he cast it aside. Felt it crawl deep within him. Hidden from sight. Relinquished of all responsibility. He stared at the woman above him and watched all life fade from her eyes.

Ragoth was crying as the shadows fell from Marina’s lifeless arms and her naked, breathless body fell against him. He removed himself from her quickly then, no vestige of pleasure to be found, and laid her down before getting horrendously sick all over the ground. Ragoth sobbed. It didn’t matter that he felt justified, that she had abducted and infected him. That she was an agent to Lord White who would’ve just killed him in the end anyway. It didn’t matter that he thought it was in self-defense. He was awash in loathing and grief. He’d never wanted to kill anyone. Especially not like this. He refused to look at her again.

This was my first act as Ragoth. I killed a naked woman, mid climax. An insane, sadistic, bastard child of Lord White who could command shadows, but a naked woman mid climax all the same. Not exactly the start to the tales of a Legend. Though, even there in that thought, he felt a small elation. She used to command the shadows. Now, he did. The only problem was Ragoth wasn’t sure how he would ultimately utilize that power. He was in no shape, mentally or physically, to help anyone. He had no idea how to use his violently usurped new abilities and that made him a danger to the few friends he had left. He’d seen how the shadows fed Marina’s dark impulses, stole all self-control. It would happen to him too, he was sure.

So what do I do?

Ragoth looked around him. Now that the shadows were inside him, and not spread all about the world, he saw that he was in a plain room with empty grey walls made of smooth stone. There was nothing. No windows. No furniture. One single, solitary door made of thick black metal bars. He walked towards the door and phased into shadow to slip through. He didn’t even have to think about it.

Walk, poof, walk.

And all about him, the shadows followed.

***

Desinra burst into Amberosin’s room a few hours after her last visit and slammed the door. All the estorches flicked to life at once with a snap of the old woman’s fingers. She was sweating, rubbing her bald head repeatedly. After the woman flicked her eyes to Amberosin more than once and went back to thinking Amberosin decided to speak up.

“Uhm, Des? You feeling alright?”

Des looked at Amberosin with a deep hurt in her eyes. She didn’t know what it was but she knew hurt well enough to recognize it in others. Regardless, the woman gave Amberosin a soft smile.

“Yes, dear. Yes. Terrified beyond all belief but I feel alright. On the contrary, I feel quite exquisite. My Dresil would be so proud of me.” The older woman was running around the room with a sackcloth shoving things from all over into it, mainly foods and some oils, but Amberosin saw the quick flash of metal more than once. “He always said I spent too long sitting on my hands, hah! If only he could see me now, Amberosin!”

Amberosin had absolutely no heavenly idea what Desinra was going on about but she recognized a “thrown-together-for-a-quick-escape” bag when she saw one.

“Des. Des. Desinra!”

She finally stopped and cast an irritated look at Amberosin.

“Hurry up girl! If you can’t tell what's going on by now I don’t know why I am even trying! We are getting you out of here. Something happened way down at the other end of the corridor, doesn’t sound like a long way away but the thing is thousands of miles long, and Lord White investigates every disturbance personally.”

Meaning Lord White would be far enough away to give Amberosin a head start. Where to, she had no idea.

“But… why?”

“There are more than enough reasons for me to help you and a shit ton more reasons for me to leave you here to rot and live my life with my head down. Do you really want to question me right now?”

Desinra threw a stuffed bag at Amberosin and presented her with a rectangular case roughly the size of her midsection. She took it and looked at it with a raised eyebrow.

“It's for first aid. Now let's go.”

Desinra practically sprinted out of the door and turned left not, even glancing back to see if Amberosin followed. She did, of course, and luckily was close enough to follow the sound of Desi’s footsteps because there wasn’t a single source of light so far as she could see. I’m not the only one getting out of here, am I Desi? It must be horrible working down here.

She followed close behind Desinra into a hallway as black as death. “You’re pretty fast for a crypt dweller, Desi!” Amberosin heard herself echo on endlessly in both directions.

“Shush girl.” Desi chuckled despite her serious tone, “You’re going to get us caught!” Amberosin felt a cold, frail hand wrap about her own. “Come on now, we’ve got a horrible trek to embark on and we must keep moving if you are going to make it out of here.” Amberosin was guided up on a step, which was followed by another, and another.

“What about you Des-”

“Don’t worry about me you goon! I’m old and alone. Widowed. This is where all elderly widowers of guards end up eventually. I knew this was coming. Dresil, the poor daft, didn’t think rumors were true. Thought I’d end up any happier than he did. Ow.”

“You alright?”

“Yes girl, hush, I’m talking to you and I’m not as young as you are so talking and walking upstairs…. Is not easy, just keep with me and listen. If you keep stopping me I won’t be able to start again.”

Amberosin only squeezed her hand in reply, more than a bit winded herself. These stairs were excessively steep.

“Good. Now… Now Dresil was a good man. A sweet, kind, warm person who respected everyone until given reason not to. Humble to a fault, that one. And grouchy as could be. I loved him. Only him... such a long time we were together and it felt like it would never end. After the Fracturing through Dresil was different. Still kind but not so warm. Always looked a bit sad if I’m being honest and with good reason. He told me some things about that “war” and how it weren’t no war at all but a massacre. Only Ta’ that fought back did so thinking the act was going to send their souls into damnation. Those who didn’t fight died full of fear and unrequited anger.” Desi was silent for several minutes but kept the same pace; one step ahead of Amberosin the whole time. “He told me about… about the part he played. A part that a lot of us played in a different way here in Blancana, unwitting of course, but involved nonetheless. Dresil warned me that if things were to be set right… he would be taken by the vengeful spirit of the Ta’ and he had made peace with that. Wanted me to as well. Hah! Can you imagine? At the time I thought he’d gone war-crazy but… past week, maybe two weeks by now, can’t tell time well down here, Dresil was killed. They said ‘died in an accident’ but I know the truth. Damn near everyone in the southern district knows the truth. We saw the mounds. The lightning. We’ve heard the stories about a bandaged man…”

It hung in the air like an unspoken question between the two. No doubt word was she had been brought in under suspicion of aiding the bandaged man… Ta’K. Amberosin squeezed Desinra’s hand.

“Right. Sorry. Point is… he told me not to hold a grudge, not to bear ill to him or his kin- in fact, the old fool asked me to help the Ta’ seek their vengeance on Lord White if I could, the moron speaking so vagrantly about the Lord he served! He’s lucky I was a loyal woman, a lot of money to be had in turn coating this lot. Ludicrous as it sounds since you were brought in.. it's all I could think about. It's been about three days now, I think, by the way.”

I’ll stick with two days, nice guess though Desi.

“I was thinking about it on my rounds, supposed to look for and report suspicious folk down here, which is all the folk down here, no normal person navigates in pitch black- anyway, I was thinking and walking and thinking and it so happened that my route today included this very stairwell.”

She walked these stairs twice already? Maybe it has been three days.

“And while I was walking and thinking, thinking about Dresil and what he had said, thinking about you and how kind you were to me when you had no reason to be… I found something.”

Just then Desrina stopped and held a hand in front of Amberosin. With another quick snap of her fingers, a dim light overtook the surprisingly narrow stairwell. Her eyes were slow to adjust, still unused to being so exposed, but by Desi’s silence, she knew she was meant to be seeing something so she waited and tried to expand her eyes. After a moment of concentrating she saw what was waiting on the stairwell and blanched.

“Hah! Same look I had when I found the poor bandaged bastard- sorry, but you did kill my husband- nearly finished the fool man off by myself, but then I remembered Dresil, what he had said. I remembered you and... “

The medical supplies.

“Please, please do what you have to. Help him. Please”

“Hush now, I was already going to. Give me that first aid kit.”

Amberosin knelt beside Desi with her eyes wide and a lump building in her throat. She watched the woman work while twiddling her thumbs and trying to look away but the darkness was no kinder. Finally, she steeled herself and moved closer to her friend, Ta’K. She had no idea what he’d done at the southern gate, or maybe she did and had just refused to think about it, but she didn’t care just then. She just wanted him to live.

“Don’t worry girl, I’ll save your friend. I’ve got quite the magic touch, wouldn’t you say?”