Oathbound

The thin voice in her mind was the first sign that there was any life at all in the vast emptiness where she abode, alone. She strained to hear it again, feeling... something. Something besides the apathy that had claimed her.

:Mind-mate, wake!:

It was familiar. If only she could remember, remember anything at all.

:Wake, wake, wake!:

The voice was stronger, and had the feel of teeth in it. As if something large and powerful was closing fangs on her and shaking her. Teeth --

:In the name of the Star-Eyed!: the voice said, frantically. :You MUST wake!:

Teeth. Star-Eyed. Those things had meant something, before she had become nothing. Had meant something, when she was --

Tarma.

She was Tarma. She was Tarma still, Sworn One, kyree-friend, she'enedra.

Every bit of her identity that she regained brought more tiny pieces back with it, and more strength. She fought off the gray fog that threatened to steal those bits away, fought and held them, and put more and more of herself together, fighting back inch by inch. She was Shin'a'in, of the free folk of the open plains -- she would not be held and prisoned! She -- would -- not -- be -- held!

Now she felt pain, and welcomed it, for it was one more bridge to reality. Salvation lay in pain, not in the gray fog that sucked the pain and everything else away from her. She held the pain to her, cherished it, and reached for the voice in her mind.

She found that, too, and held to it, while it rejoiced fiercely that she had found it.

No -- not it. He. The kyree, the mage-beast. Warrl. The friend of her soul, as Kethry was of her heart.

As if that recognition had broken the last strand of foul magic holding her in the gray place, she suddenly found herself possessed again of a body -- a body that ached in a way that was only too familiar. A body stiff and chilled, and sitting -- from the feel of the air on her skin -- nearly naked and on a cold stone floor. She could hear nothing but the sound of someone crying softly -- and cautiously cracked her eyes open the merest slit to see where she was.

She was in a cage; she could see the iron bars before her, but unless she changed position and moved, she couldn't see much else. She closed her eyes again in an attempt to remember what could have brought her to this pass. Her memories tumbled together, confused, as she tried with an aching skull to sort them out.

But after a moment, it all came back to her, and with it, a rush of anger and hatred.

Thalhkarsh!

The demon -- he'd tricked her, trapped her -- then overpowered her, changed her, and done -- something to her to send her into that gray place. But if Thalhkarsh had taken her, then where were Warrl and Kethry?

::I'm lying on the table, mind-mate,:: said the voice, :The demon thinks he killed me; he nearly did. His magic sent me into little-death, and I decided to continue the trance until we were all alone; it seemed safer that way. There was nothing I could do for you. Your she'enedra is in the same cage as you. It would be nice to let her know the demon hasn't destroyed your mind after all. She thinks that you're worse than dead, and blames herself entirely for what was both your folly.:

Tarma moved her head cautiously; her muscles all ached. There was someone in the cage with her, crumpled in a heap in the corner; by the shaking of her shoulders, the source of the weeping -- but --

:That's not Kethry!:

:Not her body, but her spirit. The demon gave her body to the bandit.:

:What bandit?:

The kyree gave a mental growl. :It's too hard to explain; I'm going to break the trance. Tend to your she'enedra.:

Tarma licked lips that were swollen and bruised. She'd felt this badly used once before, a time she preferred not to think about.