Tanys Gladiatrix (The Chronicles of Tanys Book 2) (15 page)

"Torke," she said, "That's your real name, isn't it?"

Torke sat up in his chair, wiping his hands on his napkin. A slow smile spread across his face. "Well done, Tanys!" he said, "Stand up and join me at the table, if you will."

Tanys watched his eyes. Was this a trick? Was she supposed to do what he said, or was he an enemy? At last she stood up. She swayed a little, dizziness overcoming her, and she leaned against the table. Two servants appeared, bringing a chair and a fresh plate of food for Tanys. She sat at the table across from Torke, grateful to no longer be standing. Smiling, Torke offered her a napkin and a cup of wine.

The wine tasted of cinnamon.

****

"Tanys, it's time to go," Torke said.

Tanys shook her head. She was standing in front of a tall mirror in a shadowy room. Red candlelight glowed on her nude body. There was something she was supposed to remember.

"The Prince's match!" Torke said, "We can't be late!"

Torke was good friend. He kept her from missing important appointments. The one-eared satyr draped a red silk robe over Tanys' shoulders, fastening it at her throat with a tiny silver clasp. He held up her mask, a polished silver satyress with little golden horns. Brushing back her hair, he placed the mask over Tanys' face and buckled its straps.

Looking out through the wide eyeholes of the silver mask, she could hear her own breath echoing against the metal.

"You look beautiful!" Torke said, stepping back to admire her. He always said such nice things to her. He was a good friend.

"Won't I need a sword?" Tanys asked, "To kill the witch?"

"Don't worry," Torke said, "I've taken care of everything."

"What if the witch uses magic?" Tanys asked.

"The mask will protect you from her magic," Torke said, his voice soothing, "but you must be careful of her blade."

"But I must not kill her too quickly..." Tanys repeated the satyr's instructions.

"...or she will fly away to another body," Torke finished.

Tanys nodded. She was ready to save the Prince from the witch who was trying to steal his soul. Torke pressed the wine cup to her lips again.

"It makes my stomach hurt," Tanys protested.

"It gives you strength," he insisted.

Tanys swallowed a mouthful, and was led from the room by the yellow doubleted satyr.

They walked down a long hallway with arched doorways on either side. As they passed a dimly lit room, Tanys' looked inside. Her eyes fell upon a handsome young man with curly brown hair. He knelt, naked, in the center of the room, his wrists and ankles shackled to the floor. He looked up at her through weary eyes and seemed to recognize her.

"Tanys?" he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Torke smiled at the man and pulled Tanys away. Why had the man looked so familiar? Did she know him? She would have to ask about him later... after the match.

"Wake up, Tanys!" the man's voice cried as she walked away, "Wake up!"

What an odd thing to say.

****

"Fountain Street?" the black-furred satyr sounded incredulous.

Tanys blinked away the memory of a dream to find she was kneeling on the floor of a moving carriage between the shaggy knees of two satyrs who sat opposite one another in the cushioned leather seats. One of them was the red-robed satyr who had just spoken. The other was Torke in his yellow doublet.

"He makes it very easy for us, doesn't he?" Torke laughed, "I think I'm really going to miss our little friend from the countryside."

"Do you think he suspects anything?" the black-furred satyr asked.

"Haru'Luk?" Torke scoffed, "He can't see past his own greed. That's why he's perfect for this little party."

"Shh! It's waking up again."

"Don't worry about her," Torke said, stroking Tanys' hair, "She'll be a good little pet tonight."

"And what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? She will be well-rewarded for what she does for us tonight."

Tanys looked up at Torke, even as the dream darkened the edges of her vision. He smiled down at her, his face fading into shadows and his voice lost in a sea of half-remembered warnings.

****

Tanys stepped from the carriage and stretched her legs. She was standing at the entrance to a villa in the heart of the city as evening fell. It all seemed so familiar. She knew she had been here before with other people, but the memories could not be seen clearly through the swirling fog that filled her mind. Torke's hand closed around her arm, and he motioned her forward up the front steps.

The interior of the villa seemed no less familiar despite its subdued lighting. Torke whispered encouraging words as he led her through the empty halls. Tanys half expected to see a forgotten friend step around every corner, but they encountered no one until they reached the walled garden. Therein an area of garden had been cleared away to form a makeshift arena surrounded by torches on poles. Across the far edge of the sandy clearing, a small group of richly dressed satyrs lounged on plump cushions surrounding a low table. At the center of the group sat a skinny blonde satyr to whom Torke indicated she should bow. Tanys' heart fluttered with anticipation as she knelt. This was the Prince whom she had come to defend against the witch sent to enslave his spirit.

"This is her?" the Prince asked, his voice rough, almost hostile.

"Yes, my Prince," the black-furred satyr answered from nearby, "I trust you will find the slave a bit more... docile, this time."

"Let me see her," the Prince said.

Torke tugged at Tanys' arm, and she rose to her feet. At his urging, she approached the edge of the table across from where the Prince sat. She stood, motionless as Torke lifted the robe from her shoulders, leaving her naked, but for her mask. She watched through the eyes of the mask as the Prince surveyed her body. She felt his gaze pass over her like an icy hand, cringing inwardly, but showing no outward sign of her discomfort. If this was important to Torke, it would be important to her as well.

The Prince's tongue darted over his thin lips, and he nodded his head. "Get on with it."

Torke led her away from the table as a group of human servants carried in a large, freestanding brazier with a blackened iron grill set atop its glowing red coals. Beside it was set a tray table filled with tongs and knives. A cleaver as well hung by a leather strap from a hook affixed to the side of the table. Tanys shivered. She had been told what this was for in advance. She would have to burn the witch's body parts in the fire while she yet lived. If the enchantress was allowed to die with her body still intact, her spirit would simply fly out and possess someone else. Tanys' only chance to save the Prince lay in destroying her opponent bit by bit.

"I trust everyone's drink is sufficiently full?" A shaggy faun in a purple doublet called out from a nearby doorway. Tanys looked at him, and immediately felt an overwhelming sense of recognition, and a fair amount of inexplicable rage.

"We are all doing well, good Haru'Luk!" a fat satyr in a yellow robe answered from where he sat beside the Prince, "Now please show us the poor little thing you've chosen to be our supper and get this thing started."

"I thought this was to be a real match, Duke Sacru'Lac?" the Prince hissed.

"Indeed it shall be, my Lord," the Duke answered, "I was simply engaging in a little pre-match banter with our kind host."

"Fear not, my Prince!" Haru'Luk said, "I have arranged the import of a fine fighting slave this evening, one that will serve our purpose quite well... no matter what the outcome." He glanced nervously towards Tanys. Whoever he was, perhaps he recognized her as well.

Haru'Luk clapped his hands, and a pair of human men, clad in red head wraps and white loincloths appeared, escorting a woman draped entirely in purple silk. They led her to the center of the arena and yanked away the fabric, revealing a dark-skinned woman sporting many golden rings pierced throughout her body. Tanys heart leapt again with half-recognition as the girl looked back over her shoulder toward her.

"I give you Drunalla, Tooth of the White Sands!" Haru'Luk called out, "Queen of the desert raiders!" This was then the witch that Tanys would have to kill.

The Prince stared for a moment at the dusky-skinned girl standing naked before him. "Turn around."

The girl turned her back and leaned forward, obediently presenting herself to the Prince.

"I've never seen so many rings," the Duke laughed, "It will be a wonder if one of us doesn't break a tooth!"

"Begin!" the Prince said.

The two men in head wraps hastened to fetch weapons. One brought a sword to Tanys' opponent. The other, a handsome youth with a stubbly beard carried a pair of razor-edged knives to offer Tanys. He winked at her as she took the blades, eliciting yet another spark of recognition in her mind. Was this one of the witch's tricks?

The two women stepped to opposite sides of the arena and raised their blades in salute. Tanys looked to Torke who had taken his place, standing behind the Prince's table with his hands behind his back. He nodded.

Tanys lunged across the arena floor, her knife slashing the air an inch away from the witch's skin as she leapt backward in alarm.

"Tanys!" the witch hissed, lowering her voice quickly, "You nearly split me twain, girl!"

Tanys' follow-up strike opened a gash in the woman's forearm that sent her reeling.

The girl's eyes went wide. "Is that you under there?" she whispered fervently, "Oh, gods, I hope that's you under the mask, otherwise..."

The witch screamed as Tanys stepped behind her, raking a red line across the girl's backside.

"Fuckin' hell you doin'?" the witch cried out, scrambling to get away from Tanys' blades, "Don'tcha know who I am?"

"Save your lies, witch!" Tanys said, "You'll never have the Prince!"

The girl's face went cold with terror. "Haru!" she howled, "What the fuck they do to her?"

Tanys lunged again, arresting her thrust at the last moment for fear of killing the girl outright. The blade tip sank into the girl's shoulder and withdrew, bright blood marking the spot where it had touched.

"Tanys, you got to remember me! We're sisters, ain't we?" The girl's eyes fell to Tanys' breast and the ruby ring that hung there. "Oh, gods! They turned you somehow!"

The witch dropped her sword and flung herself at Tanys, grappling without skill or much effect. Tanys easily shifted her weight to avoid being overthrown by the smaller woman and began to wonder what piece of this witch she would cast in the fire first. Tanys' eyes settled on a heavily ringed ear as the girl pressed herself tightly against Tanys' chest. She raised her blade, judging the best angle for her cut.

"I'm sorry Tanys!" the girl whispered, "I got to do it!"

Too late, Tanys felt the girl's finger hook through the loop of the little platinum nipple ring. The girl yanked it away with all her strength, a look of absolute terror on her face.

Tanys roared, doubled over in pain. She dropped her knives to clutch at her bleeding breast.

"Please, Tanys! You got to come out of it!" the girl cried.

"What the fuck did you do that for, Danella?" Tanys screamed.

Danella stood across the sand from her, hands raised apologetically. The ruby ring still dangled from around her finger, glimmering in the torchlight. Her eyes alternately widened in fear and winced closed at the sight of what she had done to her friend.

Tanys as well felt a growing sickness in her stomach at what she had done, and what she had almost done. Her eyes darted to Haru who looked at her with an expression of profound sorrow.

"What is this?" the Prince demanded, "I am not pleased by this!"

Tanys, still clutching her torn mammary, turned to look at the scraggly-haired Prince of the satyrs. "No one gives a shit!" she yelled.

The Prince began making a choking noise and looked to the Duke for some sort of satisfaction.

"Alas," the Duke said, "I'm afraid she is quite correct, my Lord. We are all quite done with you."

Tanys saw Torke move with surprising swiftness. Even if she had wanted to, there was nothing she could have done to save the Prince. The blonde satyr pitched forward with Torke's knife in his back, knocking drinks from the table as he fell.

Torke calmly leaned forward and pulled the knife out only to drive it in again, over and over as the Prince's body bounced against the tabletop. He finally left it buried in the back of the dead faun's head, wiping his hands on the ruined silk of the Prince's robe.

In a flash, a dozen, red-liveried beastmen moved into the garden, surrounding the satyrs and slaves therein. The three nobles, who had tumbled from their seats at the table, looked up in fear at the Duke and the Malchesse who were calmly finishing their drinks. Haru'Luk stood with an expression of horror on his face.

"Why did you do that?" Haru demanded.

"A better question would be, why did
you
do that?" Torke responded, motioning for two of the guards to take Haru into custody.

"I did nothing..." Haru protested.