Innocence Lost Ch. 07-08

She scrambled into the bathing room he'd created for her use. She quickly ran the pool full of warm water, removing a sponge and a vial of jasmine scented soap from a shelf. She washed her body before taking time to scrub her hair as well. The soap and water stung the multitude of bruises, lashes and open wounds that dotted her flesh. She climbed out, dried off and expended a great deal of magic healing the wounds. She just hoped Azlorik wouldn't be angered at her for doing so. She returned to the main room and went in search of him, locating him in his lab. He paid no attention to her as she knelt before him, watching him work at the potion making apparatus. She remained there, waiting patiently while he pointedly ignored her, brewing several different potions.

When he finished, he left her kneeling there and exited his suites. Thoughts filled his head. Just what was he going to do with Mistale? The discipline and violence no longer sustained his interest. Why hadn't he allowed the Matron to dispose of her, sacrificing her to the Spider Queen in thanks of a successful raid? Azlorik knew he could throw her into the slave pits or sell her off to someone who'd put her in the fighting arena. He knew she wouldn't survive for long either way. She wasn't strong enough to be sold to the duergar in order to work countless hour's nonstop mining adamantine. Perhaps he should send her back to the surface and be done with her, but that didn't appeal to him either. What was he to do about Mistale?

O.O

Mistale knew something was troubling Azlorik. He'd never blatantly disregarded her before. Perhaps it was time to recapture his interest in her. She dashed into the torture room and removed one of his favorite whips from its hooks then she returned to the bedroom and knelt before the bed, patiently waiting for him to return. She'd offer her body up to his need for domination, anything to bring him out of this odd melancholy mood he seemed to be in.

Hours crept by as she watched the glow in the bowl go from yellow to orange and finally deepest blue. Fatigue plagued her. Her knees ached. Her feet tingled. She doubled over, her bottom in the air while she rested her forehead on the carpet. It was in that position Azlorik found her in when he returned to his rooms. "Slave," he barked, causing her to lurch up and squeal from the pain of her stiff limbs. "What are you doing?"

She blinked, clearing her head of the sleepy cobwebs and presented the whip to him. "Waiting for you like a good slave," she humbly murmured.

He drew close to her. She could smell the alcohol that wafted off his breath. "Not now, slave. Put the whip where you found it and go to bed. I have no desire for you tonight."

Mistale gasped sharply. Did he no longer desire her pain anymore? She climbed to her feet, whimpering at the pins and needles feeling zinged through her limbs. "Master, have I displeased you?"

He glared at her, his amber eyes narrowing. He couldn't answer that. "Do as I have bid you, Mistale. Consider yourself lucky you have not drawn my ire this night."

And so Mistale returned the whip to its place on the post before making her way back to the bed. He stopped her before she climbed under the covers. "Not my bed, slave. You'll have your own from here on out until I decide what I'm going to do with you."

Mistale quaked worriedly at his words. What did he mean? She chewed on her lower lip as he led her to a small room off the bathing room he'd created with his magic. It housed a single bed, an armoire, a vanity with mirror and a comfortable chair. "This is your room from now on. You'll still have run of the suite, but I'd rather you stay out of my sight. If I need your services, I'll let you know. Bwael isto, lotha uss (good night, little one)."

Tears welled in Mistale's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her worst nightmare had come true. He'd lost interest before she could ensnare and destroy him. Now how would she kill the bastard? Her mind worked furiously. "Go to bed, Mistale. I have no time for your waterworks. You may have this to wear from now on. If I desire to see you without it, you'll know." He held in his hand the dressing gown he'd given her before he'd led to attack on House Naerth.

She gaped at him and took it nonetheless. "Why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, slave. But I will tell you that despite what I told Matron Mother, I've lost interest in you as my plaything. You are less than nothing to me. Consider it a boon. I'll let you know what I've decided upon as far as your fate. Now cease this tedious groveling and go to bed."

She sniffled, pulled the dressing gown on and trudged away to the small bed. She tucked herself into it and shifted about to get comfortable upon the hard surface of the straw mattress.

Tears poured down her cheeks until her eyes stung and her head ached unmercifully. Now what was she to do?

Chapter 8

Mistale's days soon became full of mindless reading and brewing potions in Azlorik's alchemist's lab. She hardly ever saw him anymore and when she did, he rarely spoke to her. When her menses came and went she knew her time was growing short. She fully expected him to sell her at any time, though part of her dreaded the thought. She felt relatively safe here within his House, despite everything he had put her through. He couldn't sell her. It was too soon. Her vengeance wasn't complete yet.

Her ears perked up as someone entered the suite. She sprang out of her chair and headed for the main room, coming face to face with Azlorik and a comely dark elf female, one Mistale hadn't seen before. Envy filled her. She glared at Azlorik angrily as their eyes met. He cocked an eyebrow at her before continuing his conversation with his companion. Rage topped the mountain of emotions Mistale experienced. Softly she began to chant, calling to her to her hands a spell she didn't often use. She pointed a finger at the female and allowed the spell to discharge. The necromantic energy along with the hate and rage Mistale channeled into the spell engulfed the beautiful woman causing her to drop to the floor with a thud.

"What have you done?" Azlorik turned on Mistale, stalking over to her. He drew his hand back and delivered a vicious slap. "Have you lost your mind, slave?"

"If you dare bring another woman here, you will be next," Mistale retorted and called to her hand another spell. Once unleashed a globe of brilliant yellow sunlight filled the room, engulfing both of them. Azlorik groaned at its intensity and covered his eyes, hiding them away from the brightness. With a concentrated effort, he chanted a few arcane words and dispelled the sun bright globe. Then he launched himself at Mistale.

"Stupid bitch, what is wrong with you?" He was on her in an instant, knocking her to the floor as his body slammed into hers.

"How dare you bring another woman in here?" Mistale screamed and cast another spell, calling down a flame strike against the dark elf male that loomed over her. She rolled out of its path, watching as it seared him and caught some of his clothing on fire.

Screaming in pain, he patted his clothing down, doing all he could to extinguish the flame. "Damn you, whore. One more spell out of you and I'll kill you."

"I dare you, Azlorik," Mistale sneered his name, spitting in his direction.

He cocked an eyebrow and summoned a sickly green ray to the tips of his fingers. It lingered there for a moment or two while he spoke. "That's Master to you, slave, and I will fuck any one I damn well please. I don't ever recall having to ask permission from you."

She glared at him, standing her ground with hate filled angry eyes. Color painted her cheeks, making them appear a bright red.

When she didn't speak, he continued. He watched her every move, noted how tense her body was and how tight she seemed to be wound.

"Matron Mother will be highly displeased at this turn of events. You've grown far too bold," he advanced on her still holding the putrid green ray in hand. It danced upon his fingertips and seemed to give off a hum. "I could easily kill you with this. I could kill you as easily as your death ray snuffed out the life of poor little Miz'ri. Or I could sell you to K'yorl and let his House extract revenge on you. Your death would most likely be excruciating and long in coming. The thought of watching you suffer makes me very hard."

Mistale shuddered at the thought of being tortured to death. "Who is K'yorl?" She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.

"Weapons master and chief assassin of House Kilsek and Miz'ri's brother. He did me a favor by eliminating my dear twin. Yes, slave, Azlesaonar is dead. I paid him to kill my brother. He was more than happy to get rid of him. You see, just like I graduated with higher honors from Sorcere than Miz'ri, my dear twin beat out K'yorl at Melee Magthere. The only reason Azlesaonar wasn't the Weapons master of House Dryaalis was because he couldn't defeat Elamshin, patron to my Mother."

Her eyes never left his. She refused to flinch or grovel before him. She poured all the haughtiness inherent to her kind into her words. "Then you'll have to kill me, male, because I will not allow you to sell me. I have the power to collapse this entire complex, perhaps even create a rift that'll destroy the entire city of T'larghaun. You have sorely underestimated the power of my druidic magic. I could change shape into that of a dragon or an elemental, or even a spider. I could be free of this place before you were ever aware of it."

He rolled his eyes and chuckled insolently. "And you would die as soon as you transformed, stupid whore," he taunted in return. "The geas would take care of you and I wouldn't even have to dirty my hands."

Mistale burst out in hysterical cackling laughter. Azlorik raised an eyebrow at her. "Nice try, male, but your geas... I broke it. You're not the only one who has access to powerful magic. I've already changed form many times as of late. I considered turning into a fire breathing golden dragon the moment I saw you walk in here with that drow whore. I heard the intimate words you spoke to her. I could see it in your eyes that you wanted to fuck her."

"Perhaps I did, but that's none of your business, slave. You obviously forget that I am your Master. You would do well to remember that," Azlorik ground out angrily.

"And if I choose not to? Will you resort to raping me again? Will you beat me within an inch of my life again? Or will you finally make good on your threat to kill me? Come now, stupid male, put up or shut up."

Azlorik's eyes narrowed dangerously and he let go of the spell he'd been holding. He shot it straight at Mistale who countered with a spell of her own that she'd been silently holding. The two struck each other, canceling out each other's energy.

"Slave, you are trying my patience," he hissed and lunged at her. If spells didn't work on her, he'd kill her with his two hands. Mistale was ready for him. She released the second spell she'd held in reserve and watched as her death ray hit him square in the chest. He shuddered as his beautiful amber eyes rolled into the back of his head, and dropped at her feet. She kicked his still body, relishing that he would torment her no more.

Mistale expelled the breath she'd been holding. She'd done it. Azlorik had paid for his harsh treatment of her and now she could leave this wretched place. She helped herself to some of the more interesting things within his room, stowing them within the magical backpack he had often used. She filled it with potions she'd brewed, scrolls she'd scribed, and her personal possessions he'd kept from her. As a souvenir, she grabbed the two floggers he'd used upon her most often.

Mistale felt no remorse as she donned her favorite dark green and silver armor. Putting it on after several months of not wearing it made her feel nostalgic. She smiled as she donned her cloak. She felt the need to return home, even though she knew nothing remained due to the Orc attack.

Mistale headed to the bathing room her now dead Master had created and cast a spell upon one of the tall leafy plants that sat in one of the corners. She watched it glow and knew this spell would take her within a day's travel of where she wanted to go. She glanced back into the room where the bodies of Azlorik and Miz'ri lay. Conjuring a sphere of fire, she sent to hurling towards the bed, hoping it'd ignite and burn this place to the ground.

She had longed for this moment, had envisioned it her mind countless times. She'd done her best to appear beaten by Azlorik, to make him drop his guard with her. It had finally paid off and she couldn't have been more pleased.

And as she watched the bed burn, she turned her thoughts toward moving on with her life and putting this all behind her. But first and foremost in her mind, she wanted to see the sun again, to feel its warmth on her skin and breath in the fragrant scent of a gentle breeze. She stepped into the glowing plant and focused on another that was near a bubbling stream.

"Freedom," she whispered as she drank in the beauty of the forest around her, "Wondrous glorious freedom."

The End