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Episode
II Return of the Dragon
The Black Dragon screamed in anguish as her
bones cracked. The Supreme Brother
had set Slahn a deadline. She
was to be tortured continuously until she broke and to that end the torturer
had strapped her into his favourite
device. It was seemingly simple
in design, but more complex than it appeared, and capable of delivering the
most excruciating pain.
She was strapped to a great wooden cross,
shaped like a giant wooden
”X.” The centre of
the cross was slightly raised so that she was arched across it rather than
lying flat and acted like a hub with the arms of the cross like spokes of
a wheel. By pulling on levers
attached to the central hub, Slahn could rotate each of the spokes, twisting
the limbs of anyone unfortunate enough to be strapped to the
device. He was doing that now,
and had been doing so for several hours.
He had started slowly, twisting each limb
to the point where it first became
uncomfortable. The Black Dragon
had cursed him roundly, but gradually her defiance had turned to moans, and
then cries of anguish, and finally screams of acute agony as Slahn methodically
turned the arms of the cross. This
time she would be broken – perhaps literally if she continued to
resist. He gave the mechanism
one more click and the woman’s tortured screams reached a new
pitch. That would do for
now. He’d leave her for
awhile. There was someone else
he had to see to.
Brother Almornos or rather, the defrocked
monk who had once been Brother Almornos, grunted in pain as the whip cut
into his naked back. Spread-eagled
on a wooden grating, his wrists and ankles secured with iron bands, he was
an easy target. Slahn was taking
his time, making every stroke count and pacing himself so as not to wear
himself out. He cracked the whip
cracked across Almornos’ well-muscled back, ripping away skin and flesh
with practiced ease. So far the
monk had resisted everything he had done to him, but he had only given him
twenty lashes so far. There was
a long way to go yet and Slahn had plenty of
time. Another lash and then
another.
Almornos whimpered as the lash cut his flesh
for the thirtieth time. He
couldn’t hold out much longer, but stubborn pride kept him from screaming
and begging for mercy. A short
distance away the woman he had given up everything for was being cruelly
abused, her beautiful body twisted brutally by Slahn’s insidious
machine. She wasn’t screaming
as loudly now. Slahn had clamped
an iron bar into her mouth to dull the
noise. Instead a high-pitched
mewling noise came from her mouth.
Her body trembled with the terrible pain of the
rack. Almornos knew she
couldn’t last much longer. It
was surprising she had lasted as long as she had considering what had been
done to her when she had first been brought into the
room.
It had been nightmarish watching her
raped.
Slahn had brought him into the room first
and chained him to the grate. Then
the midnight-haired beauty had been dragged into the
room. Slahn had sneered into
his face as the woman was paraded in front of
him.
“Look at her,” the little man had
piped. “So
beautiful. Was it worth losing
everything just so you could possess her cunt for a few
hours? Well you will see how
much she enjoys it when she is taken by my guards.”
“No,” Almornos had
protested. “Do not hurt
her. It was my
fault. Do it to me
instead.”
“Appealing as that might be, Brother,”
Slahn had leered, “I believe my men prefer
women. Most of them at
least.”
Slahn ignored his protests after that, and
Almornos had watched, his gut clenched in fear and horror, as the Black Dragon
had been strapped in position over a horizontal
bar. She was bent backward over
the bar, and her wrists were chained to her
ankles. She struggled against
the cruel bondage, but there was no way for her to escape and no way to prevent
Slahn’s guards from enjoying her as many times as they
wished.
He lost track of the number of times his one-time
lover was taken. Perhaps it was
twenty or thirty times. It all
blurred into one long horrific scene.
Even worse was the way the Black Dragon
reacted. She did not beg or scream,
but responded with hideous yowls and roars, almost as if she was a wild
beast. At last, their lust
temporarily slaked, the guards finished with
her. Then Slahn took
over.
The first thing he did was to place an iron
bit in her mouth. The metal bar
forced her jaws open wide, preventing her from making any coherent
sound. Then he strapped her to
his X-shaped machine and went to work.
She now appeared on the verge of collapse, sweat dripping from her
body as she fought against the terrible
pain.
The agony of the Black Dragon’s twisted
limbs was acute and the pain on Almonos’ face when he looked at her
was greater than that of his own
suffering. She would have sneered
if the iron gag that had been forced between her teeth did not prevent such
an expression. She felt no pity
for the monk, only contempt. He
had given in to temptation and lost.
He deserved everything that was happening to
him.
Her own situation was entirely
different. She had been
betrayed. Hatred burned through
her like molten metal; a hatred for everything - for her tormentors; for
Doria and the other disciples who had deceived her; for Rohvan; and even
for Noric. The wizard should
have come for her by now. Instead
he had left her to her fate and her all-consuming
hatred. As the torturer returned,
her eyes glowed with an intensity that was almost
demonic.
Slahn suppressed a shiver as he stood over
the helpless woman. She shuddered
in pain, but she stared defiantly at him, her obsidian orbs flecked with
fire. There was no sign of weakness
or defeat. He wondered if she
could ever be broken. No one
he had ever met had lasted this long.
However, he consoled himself with the fact that Almornos had been
partly responsible. Without his
interference she might have given in days
ago. However, it was
disturbing. He had never encountered
anyone who resisted torture so well.
However, he was nothing if not
patient. Turning away he headed
for his collection of tools. He
might not succeed in breaking her, but he would certainly enjoy
trying.
“We’ve been played for fools,”
Rohvan said as he warily watched the Sea Warrior
warlord.
“So we have,” Zirhan Khan
replied. “Noric has used
each of us against the other while consolidating his own
power. He used me just as he
used you.”
“Together we might defeat him,”
Rohvan continued. He has great
magic, but his support among the people is weak and he does not yet have
an army to match either of ours.”
“The question is where do I fit in?”
Khan asked. “I am after
all, the rightful king of Sandor.”
Rohvan smiled, suppressing a laugh only with
difficulty. “I think, my
lord, that the people of Sandor have made it quite
clear that they do not accept your claim to a throne you took by
force. I, on the other hand have
a claim by blood. Princess Vanora
is my cousin and if she is not dead a marriage could easily be arranged that
would cement my position on the throne.”
“But I am her husband!” roared Khan,
his hand going to his sword.
Rohvan did not
react. He and Khan had been engaged
in negotiations for several days now; ever since each had come to the realization
that neither could easily defeat the other and that the only beneficiary
of their war was the wizard, Noric.
He was used to Khan’s seemingly uncontrolled outbursts and had
come to see them for what they were, attempts to frighten those about him
into giving him what he wanted. He
waited until the warlord quieted and then continued with his
proposition. “I would not
count your rape of the princess as a
marriage. If my spies tell me
correctly you were far more taken with the former queen than the princess
in any case.”
Khan settled back onto the camp stool that
had been provided for him. Today
they were meeting in Rohvan’s tent.
Picking up his cup he sipped at his
wine. “Point
taken. What do you
propose?”
“Simple.
Support me as king. It
will not be difficult to get the marriage
annulled. I marry the princess
and you get Queen Tersahi. As
king I will make you duke and give you a sizeable portion of the kingdom
to govern as you wish.”
Khan seemed to be thinking over the
proposal. Rohvan gave him an
extra push. “You may as
well make the best of it. I’m
sure you don’t want to return to life as a pirate and if we keep fighting
one another that is surely the best you can hope
for. We must work together to
defeat Noric before he becomes too strong, and I am acceptable to the people
of Sandor while you are not.”
Khan leaned
forward. “Give me the
map,” he said. “I will
show you how much of Sandor I want.”
Rohvan forced himself not to roll his
eyes. It was progress of a
sort. But he had no illusions
about the negotiations. There
was still a long way to go.
Eventually he would get this barbaric thug to accept some sort of
civilized settlement. It would
not be easy, but it would be worth it.
Even if it cost him half the kingdom he would still be
king. And he had long admired
the Princess Vanora. The fact
that they were cousins would be no
impediment. Half the ruling families
in Sandor were married to cousins.
It was a time honoured custom and a tradition well worth
following. He wondered if Vanora
would fight him the way she had reportedly fought
Khan. It was an intriguing
notion. He had never raped a
woman before, but in her case he was quite willing to make an
exception.
Vanora shook her
head. “I know of no woman
fitting your description.
Noric’s demonic servants were all dark-haired; there was not
a redhead among them. Only one
of his disciples comes close to her
description. She was called the
Black Dragon and it was she who delivered me to the
brigands.”
“Sha
Zhu would not commit so vile
an act,” Che Sha said.
“I have never known her to do anything but help
others.”
“You forget, Che Sha,” Vayasha
responded. “Did she not
abduct you from the palace at your brother’s
command?”
Che Sha
nodded. “But she was under
his spell then. She was not her
true self.”
“I think,” Shasara chimed in,
“that this may be the case as well.
The description the princess gives us is too close to that of
Sha Zhu to be
coincidence. The princess has
told us that she was in the company of an evil wizard and that he had placed
an enchantment on her lady companions.
It is almost certain that the Black Dragon was also under a similar
enchantment.”
“If that is the case,” Che Sha said
slowly, “then we must attempt to free
her.”
Shasara pulled on her
pack. “Let us go then, we
have no time to lose.”
Vayasha looked at
Vanora. “The princess has
not yet recovered from her ordeal.
We cannot abandon her.”
Vanora got to her
feet.
“I will follow wherever
you lead,” she said determinedly.
“And I know the castle and city while you do
not. Even if I slow you down
it will still be faster if you take me.”
“Agreed,” said
Shasara. “We will go at
your speed, and it will be you who
lead.” A few minutes later
the four women were on their way.
Almornos bowed his head in shame.
Slahn had flogged him again until
he had wept in agony. Then he
had gone back to torturing the Black
Dragon. Her screams, even while
gagged had echoed through the room.
Slahn’s use of the X-shaped rack was masterful, if so brutal
and action could be so artistically described, but it had not been enough
and so he had added one more element.
Her shriek of agony as he touched the hot
iron to her flesh surpassed any sound she had made so
far. He had started with her
breasts, touching the cherry red metal to her nipples and then working his
way down her body, to her belly, her pelvic region, the inside of her thighs,
and finally her feet. Each time
the glowing iron touched her it brought forth a shriek of
agony. Perhaps not so strangely
it was the burning of her feet that finally did her
in. Despite the fact that her
limbs were already twisted to the point of breaking, she jerked her body
so violently that there was a sudden violent cracking as her bones
snapped. Her voice broke from
the scream that ripped from her lungs, ending in broken
sobbing.
Slahn had removed her from the machine after
that. Her body now lay broken
on the stone floor. And it was
this situation that had Almornos hanging his
head. “Heal her,” Slahn
had ordered, but Almornos could not muster enough strength to send the magical
energy into the crippled body of the barely conscious
woman.
“So monk,” Slahn sneered, “you
have failed the one you love. You
can watch her while she dies.”
Slahn’s contemptuous comment hid his
inner concern. He had been ordered
to break the Black Dragon, not kill her.
Instead he had broken her lover, rendering useless the only man capable
of saving her. He toed the shattered
figure on the floor, turning her broken body over on her
back. “She was beautiful
once.” Slahn mused aloud.
“But now she is nothing but worm
fodder.” He turned to the
guards. “Haul her out of
here and toss her body into the cesspit.”
“No!” Almornos cried.
“I will heal her.”
He forced himself to ignore the pain of
injuries. How much more painful
must be the agony of the shattered woman who lay before
him. Placing his hands on her
he called forth his power. He
would heal her, even if it meant his own death.
He released his power into her, guiding the
mystic energy that enabled him to perform his
magic. It was no easy
task. He had never healed anyone
as badly injured as the barely conscious demonic
female. Focusing through his
pain he manipulated the bloodied and burned flesh and repaired the broken
bones. Throughout the healing
the woman moaned in anguish as the excruciating pain of the healing process
coursed through her body. It
was a pain that a master healer like Almornos could normally have alleviated,
but due to his own physical condition, it was all the monk could do to heal
the injured woman. As it was,
the process drained the energy from his body, leaving him barely conscious
when he was finished. Exhausted
he collapsed even as the woman he had healed opened her
eyes.
The Black Dragon raised her head and then
propped herself up on her elbow.
Spying the monk’s almost naked body lying next to her she knew
at once what he had done.
“Fool,” she spat.
“You should have let me
die.”
“You are right about that,” Slahn
interjected. “Soon you will
wish you had died.” He ordered
his men forward. “Put her
on the spreader.”
“You won’t break me, little man,”
the Black Dragon growled as she was dragged toward another of Slahn’s
hideous devices. “I’m
stronger than you are.”
“We shall see,” Noric
replied. He had made that comment
before, and he was much less confident
now. It seemed impossible that
a mere woman, albeit a female demon, could endure what he had done to
her. He had tortured her
to the point of death and still she defied
him. What more did he have to
do to break her?
The Black Dragon grunted as her weight was
shifted onto her arms.
Slahn’s guards had bent her arms around a steel bar and chained
her wrists across her belly. Then
they had hooked each end of the bar onto chains dangling from the ceiling
and lifted her until she was forced onto her
toes. They did not stop with
this fairly mild bondage, however.
An iron bar was shackled to her ankles, spreading her legs wide and
then this too was hoisted toward the
ceiling. It was the forcing of
her arms into a cruel strapado position that elicited the grunt of pain,
but other than that she made no sound.
The painfully awkward position, however, was
just the beginning of what Slahn had
planned. Raising her from the
floor until she was level with his head, he had a brazier of hot coals dragged
close, and then he went to work.
Once again he forced an iron bar between her
teeth. Standing this close to
his victim he had no desire to hear her
howls. Then he heated a long
heavy needle in the brazier until it glowed red
hot. “Now, Black Dragon,”
he said, “it is time for a little
decoration.” He lifter the
needle with a pair of tongs and took her left breast in his other
hand.
Almornos watched
helplessly. There was nothing
he could have done to help the Black Dragon, but Slahn had taken no
chances. He had ordered his men
to bind Almornos’ hands behind his
back. Almost too weak to move,
the monk huddled on the floor while the Black Dragon was
tortured.
The only response the helpless woman made
to the piercing of her areola by the cherry red needle was a slight intake
of breath, but Almornos could hear the hiss of burning flesh and his nostrils
were assailed by the stench of seared
flesh. Slahn worked the needle
back and forth through the wound, ensuring that it would not close and then
reheated the needle and repeated the process on her other
breast.
The Black Dragon did not so much as whimper
as her nipples were painfully pierced.
Nor did she complain when Slahn inserted a heavy gold ring through
each nipple and hung a heavy weight from the
ring. The strain on her body,
however, was beginning to show.
Sweat dripped from her body and it was evident from the trembling
of her limbs that she was in severe pain and
discomfort.
Slahn soon added to her
torment. Ordering his men to
bring forth three more braziers he had them placed beneath
her. Her sweat hissed as it dripped
onto the hot coals and her breathing
quickened. The heat rising off
the glowing charcoal must have been incredible, but for several minutes the
Black Dragon gave no sign of her agony.
Then she began to moan.
The sound started low; at first barely audible,
then it slowly increased until Almornos could hear it
clearly. He was too far away
to see if the Black Dragon’s skin was blistering, but the sizzling of
her sweat slowly died as the heat dried her
skin. At the same time the moans
increased in intensity until they reached the level of a muffled
scream. The tormented woman twisted
her body, attempting to move away from the intense heat, but succeeded only
in swaying slowly back and forth over the hot
coals.
“Let her go,” Almornos
begged. “You will kill
her.”
“That’s why I have you here,”
Slahn replied coolly. “You
will keep her alive to be tortured again.
Eventually she will break, especially as this time I will make sure
that you do not encourage her in any extracurricular
activities. She will be given
no time to recover. I will torture
her until she breaks.”
By this time the Black Dragon’s cries
were undisguised. She was in
terrible agony. Once more the
coals sizzled, but this time not from the woman’s sweat but from her
body fat as her belly, breasts, and thighs were seared by the intense
heat.
Almornos tried to free
himself. Weak from his healing
of the Black Dragon and still suffering severely from the flogging there
is little he could have done, but he could not help
himself. Desperately he wrenched
at his bonds, rubbing his wrists raw in an attempt to free
them.
He was spared further effort when the door
to the room was suddenly thrown open.
It slammed against the wall with a thunderous
crash. Slahn spun toward the
sound, bemusement and anger flickering across his features, and then he went
very pale.
Noric strode into the
room. He was followed by four
ghoulish young women dressed in tight-fitting
leather. His gaze froze everyone
in their tracks. “So,”
he said slowly, “it is as I was
told. You have dared to kidnap
and torture one of my chosen.”
Slahn cowered before the demon
sorcerer. “Please,
lord...” he began, but Noric gave him no time to
finish. He gestured with his
hand toward the writhing body of the Black Dragon, snapping the chains that
bound her and lifting her toward him.
“See to her,” he ordered the four
women who had followed him into the room.
Then he turned to the groveling
torturer.
“Take him,” he ordered Slahn’s
guards. The men needed no second
instruction. They seized their
former master with excessive alacrity and held him
fast. “Strip him,”
Noric continued. “I think
you know what to do with him”
Slahn screamed in fear as he realized what
was going to happen to him. A
puddle appeared on the floor below him as his own men dragged him toward
the array of braziers. He continued
screaming as he was hoisted over the hot coals and left dangling while his
ex-guards scuttled from the room.
As his own sweat dripped onto the hot coals he shrieked for
mercy. Noric’s only reply
was a small smile. Without a
word he and his entourage left the room taking the Black Dragon and Almornos
with them.
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