Going Feet First Ch. 03

Then there was Val, the Tree Elf that clung to Pretayus just as Celia had clung to Galen. Hatred burned in the Soldier's core for this girl. So easily did she shrug off Celia's pain and happily watch as her sister was marched off to a life of suffering.

When Celia's cloak had been torn off, Val was quick to snatch it up, wrapping it around her like some noble woman from ancient Greece. When the Lycan holding Celia's chain jerked her forward, Val merely smiled and urged her to keep pace. When Celia was snarled at for trying to look back upon Galen, Val giggled and said in elvish, "Eyes forward, Celia."

For the green-haired Tree Elf, it may as have been a knife in the back.

"The camp should be close now," the Lycan declared. "Hopefully they understood why their comrades are dead. And they have not killed Therin for bearing ill news."

"They better not have," Pretayus growled. "It is in their best interest to be good friends to us, especially when they learn we have their lord's dream girl in our possession."

You won't live to see that sale, Galen thought as he sneered at the slaver.

The group continued around a bend in the river, to where several pup tents had been set up along the treeline. Eight large horses stood tied to a tree, heads equipped with feedbags filled with grain. A pair of Knights, each wearing combinations of mail and leather armor, stood waiting along the river bank with a Lycan beside them. That dark grey wolfman was one of the men Galen remembered fleeing Pretayus' camp with his tail between his legs as the soldier had cut them down with the .50 caliber machineguns.

How quickly things had changed, as they now had the Private at their mercy, or so they believed they did.

Before they entered the camp, Pretayus and Galen's two handlers stopped, letting Celia's escort drag her by the hair in among the circle of pup tents. Her leash was tied to a thick root protruding from the ground, the two Lycan slavers watching over her with the two Knights that were tending the camp. Seconds after, another two warriors came out from separate tents, approaching the Pretayus and his men flanking Galen on either side.

"Sir!" a young man addressed as he came up to Pretayus, averting his brown eyes from the loosely robed Elf hanging off the slaver's arm. He nervously smoothed out his short, jet black hair and adjusted his leather vest, the mail covering the jerkin softly clinking against itself as he straightened his posture.

"My name is Marshall Tin, are you Pretayus?"

"I am."

"Sir, I am sorry to hear about the loss of your friends. My lord will be disappointed at the failure of his request, but I believe he will sympathize after hearing what happened."

"Thank you, Mr. Tin, your words do much to help in this trying time. You and your comrades have our sympathies as well, your Captain and his lieutenants fought and died with courage and honor."

At once it looked as though the world came off of Tin's shoulders, his posture shifting as he came to ease. "Thank you, sir, your words are of comfort as well, to know they died with dignity."

They died as crushed paste splattered under a stone wall, Galen corrected mentally.

"Is the elven servant destined to my lord?" Tin continued.

"Yes. She is yet to be broken, but we can take care of that when we meet your lord in Redding. I think it will be most enjoyable for you to learn that she is the love of the demon that killed your brethren. The demon my men have tied up behind me."

Tin took a second to glance over at Galen, a frown arching down his eyebrows as he examined the soldier's unchanging glare. Without warning though, a large hand grabbed hold of Tin's shoulder, nearly severing several links in his mail as he was tossed aside.

A towering, bald beast of a man with a broad chest thick with hair and muscle stormed past Tin. Veins bulged in his throbbing, red neck as he stormed up to Galen in a fit of rage. The handle of the two-hand bastard sword on the angered giant's back provoked a drop of sweat to run down the Private's brow as he imagined the immense strength one would need to wield such a thing, and the ease of which it could tear his body asunder.

Before any harm was done, though, Pretayus's men put themselves between this man and the soldier, blades ready to keep the giant at bay as his hate-filled eyes burned holes in Galen's head.

"He's teh demon?!" the giant roared.

"Harin, settle!" Tin cried out.

"That he is," Pretayus answered. "But stow your rage, sir Knight. We are taking him to cavern four down in the Sundered trench. The Drider there will make him pay for each life he has claimed."

At once, both of the slaver's at Galen's sides grinned, one of them chuckling, "I like the sound o' that."

Drider? Galen thought. What the Hell is a Drider?

After picking himself off the ground, Tin stepped toward Pretayus with his mouth open to question the sentence, but then he paused. His train of thought cringed at the brutality of Galen's proposed fate, but then he glanced at the soldier standing, wrists bound with a rag drawn across his face. He thought of the dangers Galen posed, the damage he had done, and then shuttered at the image of the creature awaiting him.

Had Tin been in Galen's boots, he would be scared right out of his mortal shell. Yet for some odd reason, the "man" before him did not project such an emotion. Not a trace of fear crossed him even as his most gruesome and terrifying death had been announced.

He must be a demon posing as a human, he has to be! Tin thought as he watched Galen stand in silence, eyes aglow with hate as they fixed on Pretayus.

For the Tamer of Gods to lose an ear and half a hand in the capture of Galen and the Elf, at the additional cost of over two dozen lives including Tin's own commander, the young Knight knew the demon was dangerous. Anything with the power to eliminate a camp of heavily armed warriors could not be allowed to walk Raska freely, and should be exterminated when possible.

"So wha' we gon' do 'til 'e is dead?" Harin, the monstrous warrior, asked.

"What are we going to do?" Pretayus repeated.

At first, he rubbed his chin and turned to Galen, who stood sneering at him with a deep-set frown. This expression made Pretayus chuckle and shake his head. "I'm sure we can find some entertainment before sending him on his way."

He turned to Harin, tilting his head back to look him in the face. "Would you care to help my men escort Galen to the Drider's nest? I want the demon as far away from his pet Elf as possible."

There was a gleam in his eyes as he glanced over to Galen, a rotted, partly toothless grin forming as he said, "I 'ould love ta."

"Good," Pretayus grinned before turning to Galen. "I want to know every detail of his demise the next time we meet."

Galen shifted his glare between the two men before him, mentally shaking his head at the slaver's grievous look while refusing to show fear in the face of the giant looming over him. At the same time though, a touch of anticipation stirred within him. The moment they took him away from Celia, where they couldn't use her against him, would be the moment he would strike.

"So this is where I say goodbye, Galen, but before you go," Pretayus announced as he took a step closer toward the Private, leaning in until their faces were a hand-width apart. "You want to know the perks of what I do?"

After rolling his eyes, Galen cocked an eyebrow as if to ask "what?"

"Watching these girls, so strong at first, slowly breakdown with what I do to them. Tree Elves especially. I've never so much fun in my life than with the last batch. It only took four days for the first one to break, but the rest soon followed. But Celia? With her I shall take my time..."

Blood pounded in Galen's ears as his breathing became hard and his knuckles white. Both men on either side of him tightened their grips on the leashes they held, unsure whether or not they could hold their demon back.

"By the time I am done with your Elf, Galen, she will be a new image of Val. Obedient, blissful, broken. And all you will be is an image in her memory. I'll have her hating you before long, how you failed to protect her, to keep her safe. And from that I will turn her love for you unto me, have you gone from her memory within a month. After that, she won't even know you ever existed."

When the Private was shaking in rage, body on the brink of immolating rage, Pretayus pressed even further. "You know, I am curious about one thing. Did you fornicate with her already?"

For a moment, Galen's eyes drifted to the side, thinking back to the night before. And only then did his eyes widen in the wake of realizing the steps he did not take. The seed he may have planted her belly. A low growl built up deep in his throat as his fists clenched, a reaction that only made Pretayus smile.

"You know, if she's pregnant with an Elven girl, especially one made by you, I'm sure I could get quite the bonus for her, seeming how her mother is spoiled anyway. It does mean that I will have to delay her breaking for a little while, to see if she is carrying a child, but if she is... hehe..."

Pretayus tilted his head forward, half his eyes covered in his arching brow and his smile stretching ear-to-ear.

"Of course, my men and Celia's future master would have to wait a until the child is born before we could properly enjoy Celia, and then we would have to hold off several more years for the child to mature, but in the end, we would reap sweet, sweet revenge on your daughter for all the lives you took from us. One night after another."

The last words sunk into Galen's mind like a blade severing his last piece of self-control. Tears welled up in his eyes, teeth clenching down as he choked out suppressed sobs. Blood filled his vision as he rammed his elbow into the chest of the man to his right, knocking him right off his feet. Before Pretayus or either of the two other men could react, Galen pulled off his gag and bashed his shoulder into the other slaver beside him, snatching his sword from his sheath.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he screamed as he swung at Pretayus with the blade. The Slave Master took a step back, defensively lifting a mithril-plated arm to meet the incoming steel. The blade sliced through the airborne jacket, opening up a wide hole in the forearm of the sleeve before it clashed with the metal underneath. Sparks jumped and the arm retracted, though the sword had deflected harmlessly off the armor.

Before Galen could come in for a second strike, a two-fingered fist slammed into the bridge of his nose. Swirls of dancing stars spun around his vision as he hit the ground, red streams gushing from his nasal cavity and flowing over his cheeks.

"That was the reaction I wanted. It never gets old. I expected more from you, Galen. A spell, perhaps, to sunder me into tiny bits just as you did to Bjorn. Disappointing," Pretayus chastised before he began to stroke on the pendants hanging around his neck. "Though, I do have means to keep that from happening."

The blade was removed from Galen's hand, his angered escorts grabbing onto him and hauling him up off the ground. He tried to resist, but a punch to the gut emptied his lungs of air as a stick struck yet another blow across the side of his head.

Voices rung in his ears, his helmet was placed back onto his head and jokingly patted into place. Someone made the comment of how "the stupid should wear helmets to protect themselves." If Galen's head wasn't so foggy, he may have gotten angry at those words. Then again, if his hands weren't bound, none of them would be alive to joke about him.

Though most of the voices around him were unintelligible with the his ringing ears, what Galen could make out was Pretayus's voice as his mouth hovered right beside his ear, whispering, "I would have loved to break you, but she will be even better."

The words pulled a stopper out from the Private's gut. Everything that pulsed in his chest, fear, hate, anger, despair, he felt as if they all swirled about his chest, stabbing and freezing all they touched before sinking down into oblivion. Now all he could only feel was a vacuum where his heart once lay, the hollowness where his emotions once dogged him and the warmth of tears where his eyes watered.

............

It was against Celia's deepest instincts and desire to obey as she was led away from Galen into the camp. Terrible shaking racked her body just as the tears streamed her face, but the gravity of her situation was finally settling into her mind in full. She could see now that the path she had chosen so blindly was now betraying her to a fate most cruel.

When her leash was anchored to the root protruding from the ground in the center of a circle of pup tents, her first choice of action was to try to use her magic to make the root shrivel up and crumble, only to find her spell inert. Something around her prevented her energy from bringing her glow to her hand, as if the magic was frozen in her body.

The Elf's best guess was Pretayus and one of his many pendants. She had watched through Tanza's cauldron what happened when anyone tried to use magic against him. As soon as they came within thirty paces of him, their magic would die and their casted spells would fail or go awry. It's what saved him from the Tree Elf's Searing Light when he had captured his first. Had he been without his magical protection, that spell would have burned him from the inside out and turned his body into ash.

All Celia needed was for him to put a little distance between herself and him, and she would unleash her magic upon the Lycans that guarded over her. The root holding her down would wither away, but she would quickly regrow it and have it wrap around the ankles of the wolfmen to trap them as she ran. There would be nothing to fear from the humans, as she could easily outrun any of them.

Perhaps if she broke free, Galen could use his thunder magic and keep them back as they fled. If the slavers gave pursuit, Celia would manipulate as many trees and plants as she could to slow them down so she and Galen could make the run back home to the Tree Elves and Great Tree.

If the couple made it there, the grove would shroud them in the concealing magic, hide them until the time came that the slavers were gone. Not even Val would be able to find them, as when it was seen through the cauldron that her mind had been broken, Celia participated in the ritual Tanza made in order to cast a spell on their lost sister. The spell had erased not only the memories of their home from Val's mind, but her clan connection and ability to cast Elven Sight as well.

It had been difficult for the clan, but necessary. Even so, after that ritual Celia had cried many days for Val, for Xia, for Naipee and Rolsn, the four Tree Elves that had fallen into Pretayus's hands ten years back. Her heart still ached for Val and her two other sisters that had been with her since birth, and now she could feel the long suppressed pain she held for the fourth, the one that had brought her into this world, begin to tear out her heart all over again.

Celia...

The Elf's teary eyes pulled away from the giant man who had stormed up to Galen as a distinctly feminine voice echoed in her ears. Her hysteria prevented her from homing in on the source of the voice, but she definitely heard it.

Blinking rapidly to rid the tears from her eyes, she looked around to the two Lycans standing at her back. At the sight of the frightened Elf, the two wolf men began smacking their lips with their long canine tongues as they eyed her body so greedily.

Don't look around, I'm speaking through your mind... the voice spoke again, Celia's eyes widening as they recognized its source.

Tanza? she thought.

Yes, sister. Tanza. Relax your mind for me, please. Let slip your anxiety and fear for Galen. I only have so long before I tire, and there is much for me to do.

Taking one last look at her love, who still stood strong and proud even with his hands in binds, she closed her eyelids. Heart rate slowing down, she began taking deep breaths while pushing the world out from her mind. It felt as if she was sinking into a pool of cold water, feet going numb, then her knees, waist, belly, chest, finally her head sank into the chilling abyss.

When Celia's eyes reopened, she stood unbound in the vast, white void of her mind. In front of her lay a sight that almost had her in tears, a sight she did not think she would see again for a long time.

"Tanza!" she cried, leaping into the arms of her elder, nuzzling her face into the soft folds of her black robe. "Tanza, me and Galen are in trouble! You have to help! Summon Atzlar! Beg him to bring Calia! Please, help us!"

Sighing as she returned her young sister's embrace, Tanza shook her head. "We are doing everything we can. The necklace Pretayus wears, it makes it difficult to act upon him, and even more difficult to communicate with you now."

Celia pulled her face from Tanza's robe, confusion dominating in her expression, "Then how are you connecting with me?"

"Atzlar's heart bleeds for you, Celia, and thus he is now at my body with the rest of the clan, taking in their magic, adding his own, and channeling it into me to amplify my power while there is still distance between you and Pretayus. This is why we cannot speak long; the spell is taking its toll on all of us."

"Of course, Elder. Let's not waste time." Celia released Tanza and took a step back, looking up into the elder's eyes. "Please, start."

Tanza nodded, a saddened look coming over her. "When Galen passed his trials, I began to receive visions of his future, and yours as well. I do not find comfort in what is next to come, nor do I wish it to happen, but both terrible things and tremendous feats are coming to you and him. Your strength will be pushed to its utmost limits, and you will be hurt."

A phantom tear traced Tanza's cheek as she turned away. A terrified, shaking Celia began to tear up, swallowing hard as she thought of exactly what was coming her way.

"It's difficult to tell you this... it's breaking my heart to say this to a sister, but you must endure them, Celia. But not for a second should you doubt Galen's love for you or his resolve to be at your side. Time will pass, but he will never stop coming for you."

"Will we be alright? In the end?" Celia asked.

On that question, Tanza turned back to Celia, reaching out and caressing with the back of her fingers on the side of the young Elf's face to calm her fear-induced shakes. Images began to pass her vision, some horrifying, others assuring, others enough to make her blush. When the slideshow came to an end, one final image froze in front of Celia, making her mouth slowly curve up into a glowing gold smile as a tear traced her cheek.

"I understand, elder. Thank you."

At that moment, the entire void shuttered, a wave of vertigo slamming Celia's mind and bringing Tanza to her knees. A drop of blood began to run from the elder's nose as she tried to shake out her head.

"The spell is fading, we must finish, quickly!" she said, staggering back to her feet.

"What is there to finish?" Celia asked, recovering from her momentary blackout.

Stepping close to her young sister, Tanza placed both hands on her head while her palms began lighting up in a magnificent, white glow. Celia's body petrified, limbs stiff and body rigid save for her eyes, which were slowly rolling back into her skull. Memories from her elder flooded her mind, bringing with them knowledge of spells of which she had never seen.