“You took longer than I expected,” Tory shouted as they approached. He seemed jovial at sight of them, clearly unaware of what had transpired at the eastern bridge. Qurrah uncoiled the whip from his arm and let it burst into flame. Tessanna held her arms at an angle from her sides, magic pooling about her fingertips. All white left her eyes as ethereal black wings stretched from her back. Tory took a startled step backward, placing bodies between them.
“I said you can pass,” he shouted. “There’s no need to fight.”
“I know what it is you need,” Tessanna said. Her voice pulsed and changed with each syllable. Coupled with her wings, she seemed an otherworldly demon, furious and beautiful. None had the strength to face her. Tory’s men turned and fled.
“Wait!” he screamed. Flaming leather snaked in around his ankle. He screamed as the fire bit in deep. He screamed again as Tessanna hooked her fingers toward his men and hissed in a language he had never heard before. Screams of the others joined his own. His paid lackeys fell where they stood, covering the bridge with blood that poured out their eyes, mouths, and nostrils.
The whip left his leg. The skin there was black and blistering, and pain flared throughout the right side of his body. Desperate, he drew his dagger and hurled it at the girl with black wings. She never moved. His aim was poor, and instead of piercing her throat, it stabbed into her left breast. Blood poured across her dress, staining the brown fabric a deep red. Qurrah snarled in anger, but the girl reached out her hand to calm him. She showed no sign of pain, no sign of injury. Just anger.
“You could have lived,” she said, pulling out the dagger and dropping it. She passed by the two statues, gently touching one as she stepped onto the bridge. “People take what they can when they are the stronger. Every city, every land, even in nature, this is done. But you took what never should be yours to take. You took what I cannot forgive.”
When her wings brushed the sides of the bridge, they parted like smoke only to reform on the other side. Tory fell to his knees, crying from the pain in his ankle.
“Please, I didn’t do anything,” he begged. “I never harmed you, I never harmed you, I never…”
Her fingers brushed his lips. He quieted.
“You cut me,” she whispered.
Through her fingers, he felt his life pass. The cut on her breast closed, its bleeding halted. Upon his own chest, he felt a searing pain and the wet sensation of blood. He pounded the bridge with shaking hands, pleading as his bladder let go.
“Kill him,” Qurrah said, disgusted. “He begs worse than a dog.”
“Not yet,” Tessanna whispered. She knelt close, so close her warm breath blew against Tory’s ear. “Where is your home, dog? Where do you keep your girls?”
“Outside Riverend,” he said in between sobs. “I’ll show you, please, just don’t kill me.”
“Crawl there,” she said. “On all fours, just like what you are.”
Tory did. He crawled like a dog across the grass and dirt as tears streamed down his face. He had looked back at the bridge only once, but it was enough to send a fresh wave of terror through him. His shack was a mile southeast of the bridge. It was a long crawl.
When Tory reached the building, he collapsed and clutched his burned ankle. His crying had become soft, continuous sobs. The shack, while large, appeared in poor condition. No noise came from within.
“Mind if we take a look inside?” Qurrah asked. Tory gestured toward the door but said nothing. The necromancer yanked it open and went in, Tessanna following.
On one side was a large bed stuffed with feathers. On the other was a stack of barrels filled with alcohol. In the middle was a large table, poorly carved and cut. Laying on the table, her arms and legs bound behind her back, was a girl no older than twelve. She was naked, her dress torn and bunched at the waist. Bruises covered her body. Between her legs was a dried pool of blood. She was gagged and blindfolded. At the sound of their entrance, she quivered and sobbed quietly.
Qurrah approached the table, feeling his own revulsion rising. He had killed children before, but always it had been quick and merciful. What he saw now would result in the same outcome, but far from quick, and far from merciful.
“It’s alright,” Qurrah said. His raspy voice only startled the girl further, so he reached out and removed her blindfold. She looked at him with brown eyes that were already filled with tears. “It’s alright,” he said again. “We’re here to help you.”
“She will hurt for years,” Tessanna said, removing the gag. “I doubt she will conceive children. What is your name, girl?”
“Julie.” Her lower lip quivered, and she appeared on the verge of losing control. Tessanna shook her head and put her finger to the girl’s lips.
“Be strong now. I made a promise, and I always keep them. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared he’ll return? I know how to fix it. I know how to make things right.” She glanced at Qurrah. “Bring him inside.”
Julie closed her eyes and turned away when Tory came crawling in. Bruises covered his hands and knees. Sweat poured from his face. He kept his eyes to the floor.
“Look at him,” Tessanna said, wrapping the little girl in her arms and rocking her side to side. “Open your eyes and look at him. He won’t hurt you anymore.” Julie did look. Her legs squirmed, instinctively closing her knees and thighs tight. She was yet to speak, but Tessanna sensed within her a toughness that made her proud.
“How many days?” she asked. When the girl did not answer, she looked to Tory. “How many days, dog?”
“I don’t know,” he said. Qurrah wrapped his whip about Tory’s neck and pulled it tight.
“I could set it aflame,” he said as the man gagged for air.
“Fifteen,” he gasped through clenched teeth. Qurrah released the whip. Tessanna stroked the girl’s hair. Fifteen days. Fifteen days of being a toy for so many men, taken again and again as blood pooled between her thighs and her bruises darkened.
“Drowning is too good for you,” Tessanna whispered. “But it will have to do.”
She released the girl and placed her hand atop the table as she whispered a few words of magic. The blood that had dried suddenly turned wet and sticky. It ran down a table leg, collecting in a small red puddle on the floor. Thin ropes of it stretched out and wrapped around Tory’s hands and feet. As he let out a cry of shock, a long red tendril wrapped around his neck and choked in his scream.
“Watch, Julie,” Tessanna said. Larger and larger the blood puddle grew, pulsing with frightening strength. “Watch how even your monsters can die. You aren’t helpless. Not to them. Not to anyone.”
The tendrils dragged Tory by the neck toward the pool from which it stretched. The man’s head hovered an inch above it, his mouth open and gasping for air as the blood swirled. Qurrah crossed his arms and watched, fascinated. He had seen blood magically enhanced and controlled but this was something special.
“Do you remember everything he did to you?” Tessanna asked Julie as she held out her hand. The girl took it as she nodded. “Then will you be strong for me? Strong for yourself?” Again the girl nodded.
Tory fought against the bonds, but they were too tight. He was losing feeling in his hands and his head felt as if it would explode.
“Put your hand here,” Tessanna said. She held Julie’s hands in her own, gently guiding them atop Tory’s head. She pressed it firm. A shiver went through her. “Now kneel down and whisper to him. Just one word. Will you do that for me? Whisper just one word?”
Julie looked back and forth, her teeth chewing hard on her top lip. But something about Tessanna’s eyes soothed her, and so she nodded again.
“I will,” Julie said.
Tessanna knelt down and whispered the word to her. The girl seemed to understand. She left Tessanna’s arms and knelt beside Tory, her hand still atop his head. The man’s face was above the pool of blood, his chin dipping in and out of its disturbingly warm surface. Julie looked the man in the eyes, remembering how he had hurt her. Remembering the other men that had taken her, beaten her, and shouting things she did not understand. When he looked back at her, she saw no shame, no remorse, just cowardice and fear. She found the courage to say the word.
“Drown,” she said, and then she pushed. The tendril snapped down. Tory’s face smashed into the pool. Julie yanked back her hand as blood splashed in all directions. He shook and struggled, his head completely submerged.
