Adora stood there, completely
frozen. What have I done? If she ran, she was dead; if she stayed, it
would be worse. Her dread and fear filled her, emptying her of rational
thought. Why doesn’t he move? Why doesn’t he react!? Her father merely
sat there, on the floor, staring at her; watching her. The sweat trickled down
her neck while her lips trembled.
Lord Nicholas sat on the floor of
his throne room where the force of her magical blow had laid him. His thick
black hair clung to his face in complete disarray. His white dress shirt was
now partially untucked and she had slightly torn it so now the shirt now gaped
open to show a hint of his well-muscled body. His tight black leggings had some
dust from the fall. He softly spoke and his clothes and hair straightened
themselves and he was once again the picture of elegance. Except for the tear,
one would never have known what happened.
“You are waiting for me to react,
my dear?” He stood to his full height and towered above her. The top of her head came up
to his chin, but his anger and power made him seem much larger. Despite his
calm voice, there was a hard edge there that only those familiar with his wrath
would hear. Her brown eyes were involuntarily locked on his. A very low, and
short lived, moan escaped her throat. A smile – a slow, oily smile – spread
across his face, “Do you have any idea how greatly you have roused my anger,
daughter? Are you aware of the consequences of what you have just done?” The
thought seemed to please him. He stepped forward and tucked a stray lock of
hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. She trembled at his
touch. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he purred, as a lover might.
Adora moaned again…and fainted.
As Adora stirred, shadows of half
remembered nightmares floated through her mind. She tried to catch them, pin
them down, but they eluded her grasp. She tried to move her arms,
but they seemed so heavy and unresponsive. And she was getting a headache. She
groaned.
“Ah. Glad you could join me, Adora.
I would hate to do this without your screams.” Nicholas' rich baritone and soft
tone belied the threat intended. The memory of her disobedience came crashing
upon her and her eyes shot open.
Adora was fastened down on a
stone table while she stared at the ceiling. To describe what she was feeling
at that moment would be impossible for any mortal. It was not the ceiling that
caught her attention, but what was hanging from the ceiling. A large ruby –
almost the size of a man’s fist - was hanging from a chain above the center of
the table she was on. For the first time since that horrid moment of her
disobedience, she found the words to speak.
“Father, no," she whispered.
She pulled uselessly against the restraints. "Not this, please!” she
begged louder through trembling lips and tried to yank away from her bonds
again to no avail. “Don’t take my magic, father, please!” She tore her eyes
from the hanging stone and sought out Nicholas' eyes. They were hard and cold.
“What would you have me do,
Adora?” His voice was now granite. He shrugged as if given no choice.
“You used your magic against me. You attacked me!” He screamed out the
accusation and his voice became a living thing – surrounding her, choking her
and repeating her sin in her mind. Adora closed her eyes, trying to keep from
crying; to keep from showing that weakness here in front of her father, but
that battle was quickly lost. “You see,” he continued, “I can, of course, kill
you. I would be within my right. You are only a slave, after all. But that
would be too easy.” His voice had softened again, to its snake-like charm, and
he leaned close to her face, “That wouldn’t be any fun.”
He spoke more magic words and her
skin was on fire. She screamed as the flames traveled slowly from her feet to
her shoulders, burning her clothes from her body. It left no scars or marks of
any kind, but it had delighted him. Adora opened her eyes and stared at
her father. Her throat burned from her screams so she simply watched him.
Nicholas moved to the end of the
large, round table that she was chained to, and began to speak the ancient
words that would activate the magic in the table. One by one, the fist-sized
precious stones that were inlaid around the edge of the table lit up with an
eerie blue light. They grew brighter and brighter until they formed a barrier.
The barrier grew higher and higher over her, then it curved and finally came
together as a dome at the top, save for a hole just as wide as the stone that
hung above it.
Then Adora felt something move
inside her. Then that something pulled from inside her feet, her hands, her
head, trying to gather at her center – her belly. It was her magic being
gathered up and pulled from her body. It felt as if her very muscles were
separating themselves, strand by strand. Adora open her mouth to scream, but
all was silent. The pulling, gathering, separating continued for hours and
Adora mentally begged and waited to pass out, but no relief came.
Her magic rose in a thin white
light from her belly up to the stone and inside it. The ruby shook, but held
together. Sweat poured off Adora and dripped from the table. The ordeal
continued, and if she could have opened her eyes, she would have seen a satisfied Nicholas. Finally, all of her magic was inside the ruby and Adora was finally
allowed to pass out. He reached up, took the stone from the chain and
left the room – leaving his daughter to her nightmares.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Adora floated to consciousness
against her will. She tried to roll onto her side and go back to sleep, but as
soon as she tensed, her muscles screamed in protest. She clinched her teeth,
moaning. She lay still for a while, but it soon became clear that her body had
had enough of sleep. Then her memories came back to her; they refused to be
forgotten. "Damn you father."
You did bring it on yourself.
Her conscious often argued with her at these times.
Shut up. He could have done it
faster, then it wouldn't hurt so much. Or he could have used the bracelets.
Perhaps, but would that have
sent the proper message?
Shut up.
She tried sitting straight up
once; twice. The pain and weakness was incredible. For the third try, she
slowly rolled onto her side and tried to push herself upright. Adora gritted
her teeth and tried to ignore the pain, but it was no use. Giving up, she
returned to her back and laid there looking around as best as she could.
It was dark. She had originally
thought that was only because it was probably the middle of the night. But this
dark was deeper than that. And now she felt how cool the air was. She was
underground. Adora waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness, then looked
around again. “Oh no. I should’ve guessed this is where I would end up again.” But
this time I’m just like them. No magic. At all. Now what’s going to happen to
me?
She saw three rows of women
sleeping on mats of straw covered by a coarse cloth. “The common slave’s
quarters.” She shook her head and once again tried to sit up. After much
struggling, rocking and pushing, she managed to get up on her elbows. “I wonder
how long have I been asleep?” She said to no one. Adora was not worried about
waking up the other girls. She knew how heavily they slept.
“Two days and nights,” responded
a voice from the shadows.
Adora turned her head sharply to
where the sound came from and her head fell back onto her mat. Raising her
head, she called out, “Who’s there?” Adora tried to sound firm and unafraid,
but she knew she didn't have the strength to swat a fly, much less to defend
herself. She wasn't sure she knew how without her magic. She only heard a deep
chuckle at first.
“I’m surprised, Adora. You don’t
remember me?" The voice rumbled around the room. "I’m hurt, and after
we’ve spent so many lovely nights together. And I even took the time to dress
you. Can you not guess?” Then more arrogant laughter was heard. Adora shuddered
at the thought of being clothed by a man.
She closed her eyes, trying to
place the voice. She remembered, and moaned. “Brian Ogwood,” she said.
A methodical clapping came to her
ears, “Very good, Adora. I knew you would remember.” Then he said one magical
word and a soft light shone around him coming from his staff. He walked up to
her and stared down at her, with a smile that he must have borrowed from her
father. His leather red-dyed vest reflected the light, but not the rest of his
clothes. His blond hair stuck up every which way, and it would’ve been
humorous, except for his cold light blue eyes. She remembered he is her height
and age, and he would be handsome except he also had a slightly pug nose. His
eyes traveled over her body, remembering every curve and mark under her
clothes. Adora had a plain face, but she was shapely; a fact she regretted more
than once. Adora could see Brian’s desire for her in his eyes.
Seeing him again almost made her
sick. The memories came flooding back of being raped repeatedly, and nasty mind
games he played on her. As if he could read her mind, his smile widened. He
knelt down beside her and reached out to stroke her cheek. Revolted, Adora
jerked away. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His smile
turned predatory. “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “As much as I want to, I was
ordered to only watch over you and allow no one to molest you. Unfortunately,
that means me as well.” He stood up, “And now to let Lord Nicholas know you are
awake.”
Adora looked up at Brian, her
fear giving way to anger, "You'd better run off then like a good little
boy. Let's not keep my father waiting." Brian's eyes flashed as he waved
his hand over her, muttering a few magical words. Her throat tightened; she
gasped for air; then she couldn't breathe at all. She began to claw at her
neck, looking up at Brian with growing fear. She had forgotten how easily he
gets angry.
Her vision began to get blurry
and the blackness was closing in. Brian turned and strode toward the guarded
door. The blackness was almost complete. The door slammed shut behind him and
instantly she could breathe again. Adora took great gasping breaths, collapsing
back again on her mat. Real smart Adora. Now he'll tell father of your
rebellious actions. You are digging a large hole for yourself girl.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Nudge. Nudge. Quit it! Who’s
messing with my feet? I need my sleep. She rolled over and tried to go back
to sleep. Nudge. Nudge. Adora angrily looked at her feet and gasped. “Flagg!
I’m sorry,” and out of habit Adora tried to get to her feet. She was able to
sit up at least, but once she tensed her legs to stand, the floor began to tilt
and she quickly set her hands down and waited for the dizziness to pass.
“Easy Adora,” Flagg said. “I
appreciate your enthusiasm, but you are obviously not quite ready for that yet.
Sit down. We need to talk.” Adora sat cross-legged on her mat, idly playing
with her feet. The other slaves had already left for their chores hours ago.
“First thing, Adora, is to get your strength back as soon as possible. So I
have ordered Sarah to bring you a bowl of stew often. You will eat all of it.”
Just as he finished, Sarah came over with a steaming bowl and knelt down next
to Adora. “Take and eat, Adora. We can still talk,” Flagg said. Adora took the
bowl and began to eat while Sarah slipped away. “Now then,” Flagg continued,
“as your Father’s slave trainer, I will be responsible for checking on your
progress.”
Adora noded, “Better you,” she
said around a mouthful of food then swallowed, “then my father. I’d likely say
something to him that would only get me more punishment.”
Flagg nodded and chuckled,
“Probably, but that is the other thing we need to talk about. Adora, look at
me.” Adora swallowed another mouthful of soup and obeyed. “What do you want
now?” His golden eyes stared deeply into hers. The depth of those eyes spoke of
many years of life, but his smooth face and blond hair belied his considerable
years. “Do you want to stay a common slave or do you wish to get your magic
back and go back to your life before all this happened?” He waved to indicate
her current circumstances.
Adora knew this was a serious
decision, but she didn’t take long thinking about her answer. “I want to go
back. What do I need to do?”
Flagg nodded, as if this is what
he expected. He placed a vial of a bright blue liquid in front of her on her
mat. “You need to figure that out for yourself, but I think you’ll know what
will please your father. But this one thing I will tell you.” He paused, making
sure he had her full attention. “You must accept your slavery and stop fighting
it.”
Adora lowered her eyes, “Yes, I
know. You’re right, but,” she paused and her jaw tightened. She picked up the
vial and held it so tight, her hand shook. “I’m his daughter, damn it! He has
no right to treat me this way! He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t care about me. He
only sees me as a tool to be used to get what he wants. He poisoned me to keep
me loyal so that now I need to take this,” she shakes the vial again, “every
three days, he created a mental link between us and now he takes my magic
away!”
Flagg sighed, “Adora, why did he
take your magic away?” Flagg spoke in his soft, trainer’s voice now.
Adora sighed, “Because I attacked
him.”
Flagg nodded, “Exactly. And why
did you attack him?”
Adora took the seal off the vial
and drank the contents, then answered the question. “Because he was magically
choking another slave. One I foolishly made friends with after he told me not
to. He was reinforcing his rule that I not disobey him.”
Flagg nodded slowly. “Adora, I
want you to think back on all the times you were punished and try to discover
why you were punished. I’ll bet that most of the time, you – in one way or
another – asked to be punished yourself. Of course it’s worse when the person
punishing you likes to punish, but that’s all the more reason to not give him a
reason.” Adora sat there, slowly finished her soup and stared at her mat. She
wanted so badly to say something, anything, to Flagg. To say he was wrong - to
say that her father was a maliciously cruel man for no reason – but deep down,
she knew Flagg was right. He stood up, “You think about what we’ve talked about
and we’ll talk over it more when I return in a few days.” Adora didn’t even
watch him leave; only the sound of the door closing and being locked behind him
told her he was gone.
