"Forbidden - Chapter 2" by Elizabeth Holgate

Same routine as always, myself looking utterly miserable I'm sure, feet trailing the familiar spiral staircase. The guards jabbed me continuously, trying to hasten my steps, but you can only reach certain speeds when your ankles are shackled as mine were. I did my best to keep my balance despite their prodding, finally reaching the door. To my shock, it was already open, my Master standing there impatiently. I heard the sharp intake of breath from the guards behind me, before they went bolting back up the stairs.

This was my first sign that something different was going to happen. Usually I was the one that did the waiting, the master bringing me inside at his leisure. My mind raced at the possibilities. Not for a moment was I at all optimistic that the change would be a good thing. I wasn't that naïve. Through the usual stinking chambers we walked, him half-carrying me at times, so eager he was to start the proceedings.

Down on my knees I was pushed, as he rushed around me, clatter of metal instruments being knocked clumsily aside, his demented ramblings never ceasing. I couldn't make out his words and I was too scared to be curious.

I knelt there for hours, knees slowly cramping with pain as he painted markings in foul-smelling liquids on my back. Some of them stung, and when I flinched away he struck me harshly, hissing at me to be still. By the time he'd finished, the skin he'd been marking felt as if it'd been whipped incessantly, as if it were covered in raised welts.

"Stand up boy."

I did as I was told, of course. What was the point in being disobedient?

"Perfect." The word sounded obscene coming from him, and I shuddered visibly. He must have seen, because he chuckled in his usual grating fashion, flash of teeth visible in the cowl of his robes. I was a trembling wreck, too sore to move, but he ordered me to get to my feet. I tried, unsuccessfully, and earned myself a kick in the stomach, as if that would persuade me to rise. I tried again, and this time he grabbed a handful of my hair before I could fall again. Pain shooting through my scalp, I stumbled after him as he walked me towards the cage. The walls as always glistened with some kind of mucous, pale like translucent skin. The door slammed, the noise echoing throughout the chambers, him at his lectern as usual.

I closed my eyes, and waited.

Sure enough, there came the familiar melancholy wailing, muffled as it strained to pass through the wall, then the wet, indescribable sound of tearing as the thing slithered into the small space, damp splatter of liquid across my legs as it dragged itself towards me. I clenched my eyes more tightly shut, felt it sniffing at me, hot breath scalding my bare flesh, it's nose probing at my side, eager to get to the damaged mess of my back.

Revulsion stirred in me, and even though I couldn't see the thing, I felt nauseous, twisting over onto my belly and trying to crawl away. A hairy arm swept beneath my abdomen, pulling me up onto my knees and then off the floor, so that I hung doubled over the slime-covered appendage. I felt it moving backwards, the moist sounds of the membrane yielding as it began to climb back through, and then a scorching sensation as I began to pass through with it. I'd experienced it before, but this time it was overwhelming, not just my foot and ankle being hauled in, or my hand and wrist, it was all over, and my eyes shot open. I caught one last glimpse of my master, grinning like some hell-fiend at me through the bars, and then I was sucked through.

I felt that foul liquid flooding my nose and mouth, and held what little breath I had in me. I was going to drown in the stuff if I didn't get out soon, and I could see no surface to it. The monster was looking at me curiously, as if it were as shocked as I that I'd passed through with it, and then there came an all too human expression of victory on its face.

My chest was beginning to ache, I couldn't hold my breath much longer, and now there were more of the creatures, some larger, some smaller gathering around, disturbingly graceful, the way they moved in this viscous liquid. The one that had dragged me through snapped at them with its lengthy jaws, trying to scare them off, but the larger ones were not intimidated and swam closer, their limbs brushing against me, hairy arms reaching out, talons winding around my wrists and ankles.

Unable to hold my breath any longer, my body relented, and the air left my chest in a cloud of bubbles. The stuff filled my lungs, and for a moment I felt sheer panic, my brain stinging as much as my skin. Sickening, that I could breathe the stuff, that it was like liquid air.

Blood everywhere. Not mine though. The things were fighting with each other, and already several of the smaller ones had been torn to pieces, tattered flesh spiralling downwards. The blood seemed to excite them all the more, and all but a few seemed to have forgotten me, one of which wrapped it's spindly talons around my arm and tried to drag me off.

The sudden jolt on my ankle brought us to a stop, and no matter how hard it tried, it could get me no further. I managed to turn enough to see that there was a lengthy chain attached to my ankle, rather than my usual shackles, and that it was taut. My master had obviously attached it to something without me realising it. Did he want my remains so badly? The creature let go, swimming around to examine the chain while I struggled to manoeuvre away from it. It didn't get me very far, because a moment later, I felt the pain in my ankle increase, and the chain began to move, dragging me back towards the wall like a fish being reeled in.

The creature shrieked angrily, and began to swim after me as I was dragged away from it. Harder and harder came the pull on the chain, until suddenly I found myself pressed flat against the membrane. I was quite sure that at any moment, one of the things would grab me, and I'd be torn apart between the opposing forces, but instead there came the sudden chill of air on my flesh, and then my body fell abruptly downwards upon solid ground. Immediately I began to cough up the slime in my lungs, watching it pool on the floor near my mouth, a vaguely yellow shade that reminded me of urine.

I think I must have passed out there. Exhaustion will do that, even when you attempt to remain awake.

Awake again, though I haven't a clue how much later, I found myself hanging in my master's grip, one of his arms beneath my knees, the other around my back. He was carrying me somewhere, but it wasn't his familiar chambers. Up and up we went, past windows that let in chilly breezes over my naked skin, past other slaves and guards, who backed up against the walls fearfully. To the highest point of the old castle we climbed, his constant chatter a drone in my ears.

"Just a little blood I need. Just a little. Wasn't expecting to get more than a severed foot back through the wall."

On and on he went. It seemed by all natural reasoning, I should have died in there. I wished I had, because judging by what he'd said, there was to be more pain on the agenda for myself.

Like the majority of rooms in the castle, I'd never seen the one to which he finally settled, a perfect square, marble floor, and damp walls of bare, granite bricks, so dark they seemed black. There was one window in each wall, and through the filthy glass, I could see the brilliant blue of the early night. Ceremoniously, he set me on the floor, spreading my limbs apart and then chaining each to the floor, so that I lay there spread- eagled, staring up at the ceiling. Not once did I resist. Not until I saw him produce the knife, that is, and then I tried to sit up.

The chains gave a mocking clank as they were pulled taut, and his talons raked great scratches into my arm as he forced me back down, hastily drawing the blade across my chest so that the blood ran thickly, wound burning. I still stank of the slime of that hell-world, but it had dried to invisibility. I prayed to Gods I didn't know or believe in, that this would be the end of it all, that I'd either die or he'd have got what he wanted and be gone, and he danced around me, singing in some hideous, foreign tongue with that raspy old voice of his.

There came a crash. Musical sound of breaking glass as it littered the marble floor, and then my master's shriek of despair. I heard a sword being drawn, the slap of leather boots crunching on the broken fragments, and then voices. One female, one male, but both beautiful. They were chanting in time with each other, and I could feel my skin prickling as some strange new energy charged the room.

My master gave one final shriek, and then there was no more.

"Do you think he's really passed on?" This was the female, gentle and smooth. "We should burn what's left, just in case."

No audible reply from the male, and then the sound of steps coming towards me. A face drew close to my own, and I think I must have gasped.

His eyes were too vividly green to be real, such a rich shade that they reminded me of the precious stones one of my old owners had always worn at her throat. They were the only bright features in a face that was otherwise washed out of all colour. His skin was so pale that it had an almost bluish hue, and in contrast to that long mane of dark hair that framed his finely boned face, it seemed ghostly.

"We won't harm you." He murmured, voice impossibly deep and quiet enough to demand that ears strained to listen. He looked so sad that I wanted to cry, not for myself, but for him. I wanted to reach out and touch him, and so strong was this compulsion that my limbs moved, only to be brought short by the chains.

"He's still alive?" I could hear the surprise in the woman's tone, and then the sound of straining metal. How had they broken the chains so easily? "There, at least he won't be stuck here."

"He's coming with us."

"It's against the rules! You know we can't take every stray in. Besides, he wouldn't last a day in that state, he'd slow us down."

How I wished I could speak, beg them to take me with them, anything but abandoning me in that building. If I stayed here the nightmares would never cease.

"He's coming with us." The man repeated, in exactly the same tone of voice, and I heard the woman's exasperated sigh.

"Let's hope the elders are lenient. Otherwise we'll be off active duty again and back in the libraries."

"I like the libraries."

The woman sighed again, obviously disagreeing.

"Typical. You're impossible. No wonder no one wants to work with you Valdris."

I felt slender hands slide around me, pulling me up to a sitting position, and finally received my first glimpse of the woman. Pale face, though not as pale as the man, glacial blue eyes and hair the very colour of the blood that still ran freely from the wound in my chest. Beautiful. But the man was exquisite, sitting just behind me, and instinctively I backed towards him. The woman didn't look arrogant, as I had thought she would, in fact there was a motherly aspect to her young face.

"Why doesn't he speak?" She asked, looking at me curiously.

"Because he can't. He's mute." I wondered how the man knew, but the woman didn't seem surprised that he did. "We're leaving now."

The man lifted me to my feet, and only then did I realise how very tall he was. No shorter than 6'6, he dwarfed his companion and myself, his hair hanging like a black veil to his waist. My legs trembled and I almost slumped back down, but he scooped me off my feet as if I weighed no more than a child. That was never the case, I've always been slender but muscular; slaves need to have some degree of strength.

I saw the woman give him an "I told you so" look, as he was forced to carry me, and then I did feel guilty, thinking that I would slow them down. The man, Valdris, paid her no attention, carrying me towards the window. I could see a rope hanging limply from a grappling hook, its sharp prongs firmly entrenched in the mortar. Surely he didn't mean to carry me down that.

"Wrap your legs around my waist." He murmured quietly, turning me to face him. I did as I was told, bleeding all over his bare chest, my chin resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, trusting him completely to get me down the perilous descent. He was so warm.

Nobody noticed us leave. No one came to inspect the room to which my master had carried me, and no one had heard the sound of shattering glass. It never struck me as strange, but then I was too tired to think straight. I fell asleep in his arms as soon as we hit the bottom.