there had to look away. Thunder shook them all. Air blew in every direction. The light vanished. The tempest faded. The two lovers landed hard, both looking as if awakened from a dream.
“Grab their hands, now!” Karnryk shouted, leading the way. Qurrah staggered to his feet, his reactions slow and drunken. Tessanna remained still, her eyes distant and her mouth open.
“Tessanna!” Qurrah shouted. “Stand, thieves seek our lives!”
Out came his whip, wrapping around the closest man’s neck. Fire roared. He screamed and clawed at his charred flesh as the whip closed tighter and tighter. With his other hand, Qurrah cast a spell. Blood shot out another’s forehead, as if an invisible arrow had struck him. Qurrah reeled, overcome with waves of dizziness. When Karnryk rammed his hilt into Qurrah’s gut, he vomited all over the blade. His hands flailed for something to grab. He felt a huge fist yank his robe and hold him steady.
“You dirtied my sword,” Karnryk snarled into his ear. His breath stank of rot, and again Qurrah felt his insides churn. A shove sent him to the ground. The huge blade hovered before him, glistening red and pink from bits of food and vomit.
“Lick it clean,” Karnryk ordered. “Lick it, or I’ll cut your damn head off.”
Qurrah spat on it instead. His reward was a monstrous fist to his face, coupled with a welcome return to unconsciousness.
W hen he awoke, his hands were bound behind his back and tied to a rope that looped around his neck. Even a twitch of his hands tightened them, choking his weak throat. All around, he heard the mutterings and jokes of petty lowlifes. The heat of a fire warmed his face and chest. Summoning the courage, he opened his eyes.
Karnryk’s minions surrounded him. A bonfire roared several feet away. Beside him lay Tessanna, bound in a similar manner. Her eyes were open, but she seemed sleepy and incoherent. On the opposite side of the fire stood Karnryk, his sword heating in the flame.
“Good, you’re both awake,” he said. “Now we can start the fun. I want to see the fear in your eyes as I cut you to pieces.”
“Then you will never have your chance,” Qurrah said. “You cannot scare me. A bully with a sword is all you are. The things I fear are beyond your abilities.”
“Really?” the giant half-orc said. “That so? Well, you don’t have to be afraid for me to have my fun. Pain’s my true specialty.”
He reached over and grabbed Tessanna. His giant fingers dwarfed her small neck. She made no struggle as he lifted her into the air, her body dangling.
“Strange to see you with clothes on,” he said, lewdly examining her body. “Last time you didn’t seem to mind being naked.” He took her dress in hand and ripped it, exposing her chest. His henchmen murmured in approval. “Want some fun?” he asked her. She said nothing. With a shrug, he tossed her to the ground.
“Well you’re getting some, anyway,” he said. With a nod, the first of many came forward, undoing the button to his trousers. When Qurrah looked away, Karnryk knelt beside him, yanked his head by his hair.
“No, you look,” he growled. “You watch. You killed my men. She nearly killed me, so you better enjoy your fucking reward.”
Tessanna showed no emotion as the first pushed up her skirt and pulled down his trousers. Qurrah watched, a burning anger growing in his gut. His lover gave no sign of pleasure, or displeasure, instead remaining perfectly still, her eyes far, far away. Without any struggle or signs of life, the man raping her beat her face, then her chest, furious. She did not scream. She did not fight back. She did nothing. When he finished, the man was furious.
“You have fun with her,” he told the next in line. The second lowered his pants, knelt down, and howled like a wolf as he entered her. Qurrah marked him for death first.
One after another, they took her like she was their slave, their property, their conquest. One after another, Qurrah had to watch. Bruises covered Tessanna’s face and body. Blood trickled from her nose and ears. Only Karnryk refused to touch her, hating the agonizing throb in his pants. It was not until the very last one had finished that she moved. Her elbows flexed, her neck tilted, and her black eyes shimmered in a way that sent cold fear creeping through all who had touched her.
“You took me,” she said, looking around without any sign of anger. No, it seemed to be curiosity, and that chilled the men even more. “You took me while I was away…all of you?”
The ropes that bound her neck and wrists blackened and smoked as if a fire burned them from within. A sharp edge entered her voice.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked. The ropes fell to the ground, nothing but ash. She stood. None moved against her. An unseen wind blew her hair. “Because I am about to enjoy this.”
Black lightning arced to the nearest man, into his crotch, and then throughout his body. He died instantly. Still none moved. Her eyes held them still.
“Did you watch, Qurrah?” she asked, bringing her gaze to him. The half-orc nodded.
“Seven have had their way,” he said.
“Then in seven ways I will have mine,” she said, smiling to those around her. “Your deaths will be painful, I promise.”
Karnryk lifted his sword and screamed for them to attack. What happened next was a blur of blade and black magic, a chaotic mess in which only Tessanna thrived. Waves of power washed out from her, sticking to the eyes of those that did not look away. They stumbled around, blind. One thug launched himself at Tessanna, wild with fear. The girl laughed at his terror, then multiplied it tenfold. Poisonous magic leapt from her fingers and into his mind. He sailed past Tessanna, rolling onto his back. He scratched and clawed at his chest, finally flaying at it with his knife. The whole time he shrieked, “The maggots! The maggots!”
Karnryk lunged with his greatsword, determined to take his vengeance. Tessanna saw him coming. The corners of her mouth curled into a brief smile. A single step back and the sword cut the air where she had been. Before he could strike again, she lunged forward and touched his chest.
“ Kelakkao, ” she said, almost seductively.
The half-orc staggered, his entire insides seething like a pit of snakes. He fell to his knees as wave after wave of vomit poured from his mouth, continuing until blood and acid scorched his throat and splattered the ground below.
Tessanna watched him until the furious cries of those she had blinded changed in sound. Her spell had worn off. They could see again, and they sought death. She twirled, her arms swaying like an elegant dancer. With each finger, she beckoned them closer.
Amid the death cries, Qurrah struggled against the ropes that held his hands tight. Each movement sent horrible pain throughout his throat, until he gave up squirming free. He glanced about, searching for another way. A dagger lay nearby, but the rope was far too thick. Then he saw his whip, for whatever reason untouched from when he had dropped it. The half-orc crawled on his belly like a worm until he reached it. He put his back to it so that his hands could close around the handle. Instantly it sprang to life.
“Not yet,” he said to it. “First, my freedom.”
The leather wrapped around his wrists, and at his command, burst into flame. The initial fire did not harm his flesh, but when the rope itself started to burn, so did his skin. Qurrah closed his eyes and endured the pain, hoping something remained of his hands by the time the rope broke.
R ise, pale moon, for I am alone,” she sang, a haunting melody accompanied by an orchestra of wind, eruptions of blood, and the screams of men. “Hide, burning sun, day waits anon.” Black flame roared out of her hands, scattering back any who approached. Only four remained alive, three terrified men and Karnryk. To each one she turned, singing a lyric.
“Sing, night birds, night needs beauty.” An ethereal arrow struck the back of one man’s head as he fled. Blood shot from his ears, and then he fell.
“Dig, grave man, then leave me be.” The second one hurled his dagger. It struck her side, drawing blood. She dipped a hand in her own wound and let it soak red.
“Goodbye, pale moon, for I am alone,” she sang, removing her hand and grinning at it. Magic poured out of her. The blood stiffened, took shape, and flew. Seven hardened balls shredded the dagger thrower’s face and punched out the back of his skull. Only one left before she faced Karnryk.
“Goodbye, burning sun, see me no more.” The final fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Tessanna tilted her head, as if confused. Tears ran down this man’s face as he groveled like a dog, unable to bear the sight of his companion’s brutal deaths. The girl answered him with another lyric.
