Dryad Eyes #51
1,498.
I feel a lot better about this entry than I thought I was going to. Woo!
Starting when Beatrice entered the room, Lithia had been staring at her. The Li’lithuan girl hardly even blinked. Her chest barely moved with her breath. The only respite Beatrice found from that brown eyed gaze was when she walked behind the girl to check out the swordsman who hung limply from the wall. To say that she was unnerved by this behavior would have been something of an understatement.
“I know what you are!” Lithia snapped suddenly, her eyes alight. Beatrice froze where she stood, having been about to check the bindings that held the girl to the bed. She studied that Li’lithuan face for a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know.”
“Okay,” Beatrice snapped, anger burning in her breast. “Not that it will do you any good, and not that I owe you any kind of explanation, but I am a woman now.”
“What?”
“I--”
“Oh.” Lithia wrinkled her nose as she realized what Beatrice was talking about. “So you used to be a man. Whatever. That isn’t what I am talking about.”
“Then what?”
“The demon.”
Beatrice’s blood ran cold. She felt her heart begin the hammer away within her ample bosom. Although she tried her best to maintain her composure, she knew that her reaction had reached her face. “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t lie to me.” Lithia snapped at her again, her young, icy glare holding Beatrice fast for a moment. “These too-tight bindings may have prevented me from using my ability, but nothing you can do can deaden my senses.”
“I don’t--”
The smile that appeared on Lithia’s face was smug and laced with venom. “I’ve been trying to figure out what seemed wrong about you from the moment I arrived. Finally, it hitme. I’ve seen that flow before… the rhythm of your blood.”
Beatrice stared at the girl.
“You’re the demon’s lifeline, aren’t you?”
“My… my.” Beatrice pasted a grin across her face. “That’s quite the imagination you’ve got. Too bad you’ll be too dead to entertain anybody else with your ridiculous stories. My Mistress has plans for you.”
Lithia’s smile grew into a grin. “That might be the case, but for the fact that the Swordsman chained to the wall back there has been using this little diversion of mine to slip free of the last of his chains.”
“What--?!” Bea’s voice was shrill. Tearing her eyes away from the girl on the bed, she stared wild-eyed at the wall where Kurik’s limp form still hung by his wrists. She stared at him as if he were a viper in disguise. He did not seem to be moving, and so Beatrice began to relax. It was a trick. The Li’lithuan girl was trying to disturb her, get under her skin.
What Beatrice did not see, at least not soon enough for the seeing to do her any good, was the swift shaking motion Lithia made to free her hands of the ropes. They had been wrapped loosely around her wrists, feigning her continued captivity. The first real clue Bea had that anything was going wrong was when Lithia had already gained her feet and was lunging at her. The knife-- where had the girl gotten a knife?!-- bit into the former apothecary’s chest.
It had taken Lithia almost an entire night’s worth of twisting, wriggling, and painfully wrenching her body about in order to free the small knife she kept woven into her thick, red mane. It was a trick she learned from an older woman that had taken pity on her and given her a place to stay for a short time after her departure from the Li’lithuan tribes. ‘Just in case,’ was what the woman had said. This was not a skill that Lithia had ever expected to prove truly useful. Life beyond the tribes was full of surprises.
She swung with the knife again, left it buried in Beatrice’s shoulder, then snatch the key ring from the woman’s belt. Lithia did not linger to see what damage she had wrought. There was no time. When she reached Kurik’s side, the swordsman was already groggily grinning as if he were at least somewhat aware of what was happening.
“You’re awake. Good.” Lithia spoke breathlessly as she fumbled with the keys at the lock on his manacles. “Now let’s hope you can walk, because I don’t think I can carry you for far.”
Kurik’s weight very nearly bore her to the floor. He was even heavier than she has imagined. Somehow, probably through sheer adrenaline, she was able to keep her footing and steer him toward the door.
Beatrice had already disappeared through that portal, leaving it standing open in her wake. That, Lithia knew, was not good. But what choice did she have? Even as the swordsman surprised her by taking on a little more of his own weight, and even as she whispered an old and mostly forgotten prayer beneath her breath, she limped with her companion into the front room.
Mistress Alga was waiting for them there. As per usual, her physical appearance had been altered from what Lithia had come to assume was her natural face. She was presently standing taller than Geran himself. Her feminine face was flattened and hardened into androgyny, and her body was obscured from the neck to the floor by a heavy black robe. The witch radiated malevolence.
“You hurt my boy,” Alga spoke in a voice that was every bit as sexless as the face she presently wore. With her right hand she stroked the shuddering head of Beatricer, who was presently on the floor, crying and clinging to her leg like a lost child. “I can’t let that stand.”
“No.” Lithia answered, her large eyes growing narrow. “You mean to say, ‘I can’t stand.’”
“What-- OH!”
Using her natural abilities after having them restrained for so long was both a relief and terribly painful. Fireworks went off behind Lithia’s eyes, like the ones used by the Fyrendi to celebrate their Year’s End. Once again she was fighting for her footing, and very nearly lost the battle. Focus, she kept telling herself. She could feel the witch’s blood responding to her will.
At long last, like a mighty mountain finally giving in to the elements, Alga gave Lithia a murderous glare and then toppled to the floor beside Beatrice. The former apothecary began to wail. She did not stop even as the Li’lithuan girl, breathless and sweating, urged Kurik past their fallen captors.
The swordsman was muttering as they walked. “Sh’d… kill them…”
“No time,” Lithia told him. “Have to hang on to a little strength for what comes next. Now hurry, before she recovers!”
As quickly as their abused limbs would carry them, Lithia and Kurik made their escape from Mistress Alga’s house. Outside they went, through the snow, and down one street after another. Fortunately Kurik recognized the part of Keeper’s Gateway they were in and was able to indicate to his Li’lithuan companion where they should go in order to encounter busier streets.
It was in the mouth of an alleyway that opened onto one of those streets where Lithia stopped their progress and made a small show of checking Kurik over. He needed rest, she told him. Possibly stitches. “Seek out a healer as soon as possible,” she was saying. “But most importantly, tell Geran, tell everyone that Beatrice is the demon’s lifeline. It’s blood flows in time with hers. Tell them. Okay? You want to stop the demon, you’ll have to get your hands on her.”
“T-they’ll… listen to you.” Kurik rasped, pausing here and there to gasp. Until she had brought him outside, shirtless in the bitter cold of winter, he had not thought that he could hurt any more that he did previously. “I… I… swear. I’ll… tell them. So… you…”
“No,” Lithia shook her head. In spite of the fact that she was actually wearing less clothing than he was, given her strange costume, she seemed perfectly fine in the cold. “It has to be you. Remember!”
“What… ?”
“I’m not going back.” She pushed Kurik against the wall and stepped away, leaving him there. Raising one hand and holding it outstretched toward him, she added, “I’ll never be a prisoner again. Not willingly.”
“N-no! Don’t…” Kurik cried out too late. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and then blackness swooped in around him. He no longer felt the cold, not even from the snow that he fell into.
Lithia stood over him for but a moment. Was this right? She had no reason to believe him. Nobody would listen to her, and she would immediately be put under lock and key again. Would the next cage they gave her be better or worse than the last? She shook her head. Stepping out onto the street, she flagged down a pair of passing Guardsmen.
“Please help! This man has fainted!”
I feel a lot better about this entry than I thought I was going to. Woo!
Starting when Beatrice entered the room, Lithia had been staring at her. The Li’lithuan girl hardly even blinked. Her chest barely moved with her breath. The only respite Beatrice found from that brown eyed gaze was when she walked behind the girl to check out the swordsman who hung limply from the wall. To say that she was unnerved by this behavior would have been something of an understatement.
“I know what you are!” Lithia snapped suddenly, her eyes alight. Beatrice froze where she stood, having been about to check the bindings that held the girl to the bed. She studied that Li’lithuan face for a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know.”
“Okay,” Beatrice snapped, anger burning in her breast. “Not that it will do you any good, and not that I owe you any kind of explanation, but I am a woman now.”
“What?”
“I--”
“Oh.” Lithia wrinkled her nose as she realized what Beatrice was talking about. “So you used to be a man. Whatever. That isn’t what I am talking about.”
“Then what?”
“The demon.”
Beatrice’s blood ran cold. She felt her heart begin the hammer away within her ample bosom. Although she tried her best to maintain her composure, she knew that her reaction had reached her face. “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t lie to me.” Lithia snapped at her again, her young, icy glare holding Beatrice fast for a moment. “These too-tight bindings may have prevented me from using my ability, but nothing you can do can deaden my senses.”
“I don’t--”
The smile that appeared on Lithia’s face was smug and laced with venom. “I’ve been trying to figure out what seemed wrong about you from the moment I arrived. Finally, it hitme. I’ve seen that flow before… the rhythm of your blood.”
Beatrice stared at the girl.
“You’re the demon’s lifeline, aren’t you?”
“My… my.” Beatrice pasted a grin across her face. “That’s quite the imagination you’ve got. Too bad you’ll be too dead to entertain anybody else with your ridiculous stories. My Mistress has plans for you.”
Lithia’s smile grew into a grin. “That might be the case, but for the fact that the Swordsman chained to the wall back there has been using this little diversion of mine to slip free of the last of his chains.”
“What--?!” Bea’s voice was shrill. Tearing her eyes away from the girl on the bed, she stared wild-eyed at the wall where Kurik’s limp form still hung by his wrists. She stared at him as if he were a viper in disguise. He did not seem to be moving, and so Beatrice began to relax. It was a trick. The Li’lithuan girl was trying to disturb her, get under her skin.
What Beatrice did not see, at least not soon enough for the seeing to do her any good, was the swift shaking motion Lithia made to free her hands of the ropes. They had been wrapped loosely around her wrists, feigning her continued captivity. The first real clue Bea had that anything was going wrong was when Lithia had already gained her feet and was lunging at her. The knife-- where had the girl gotten a knife?!-- bit into the former apothecary’s chest.
It had taken Lithia almost an entire night’s worth of twisting, wriggling, and painfully wrenching her body about in order to free the small knife she kept woven into her thick, red mane. It was a trick she learned from an older woman that had taken pity on her and given her a place to stay for a short time after her departure from the Li’lithuan tribes. ‘Just in case,’ was what the woman had said. This was not a skill that Lithia had ever expected to prove truly useful. Life beyond the tribes was full of surprises.
She swung with the knife again, left it buried in Beatrice’s shoulder, then snatch the key ring from the woman’s belt. Lithia did not linger to see what damage she had wrought. There was no time. When she reached Kurik’s side, the swordsman was already groggily grinning as if he were at least somewhat aware of what was happening.
“You’re awake. Good.” Lithia spoke breathlessly as she fumbled with the keys at the lock on his manacles. “Now let’s hope you can walk, because I don’t think I can carry you for far.”
Kurik’s weight very nearly bore her to the floor. He was even heavier than she has imagined. Somehow, probably through sheer adrenaline, she was able to keep her footing and steer him toward the door.
Beatrice had already disappeared through that portal, leaving it standing open in her wake. That, Lithia knew, was not good. But what choice did she have? Even as the swordsman surprised her by taking on a little more of his own weight, and even as she whispered an old and mostly forgotten prayer beneath her breath, she limped with her companion into the front room.
Mistress Alga was waiting for them there. As per usual, her physical appearance had been altered from what Lithia had come to assume was her natural face. She was presently standing taller than Geran himself. Her feminine face was flattened and hardened into androgyny, and her body was obscured from the neck to the floor by a heavy black robe. The witch radiated malevolence.
“You hurt my boy,” Alga spoke in a voice that was every bit as sexless as the face she presently wore. With her right hand she stroked the shuddering head of Beatricer, who was presently on the floor, crying and clinging to her leg like a lost child. “I can’t let that stand.”
“No.” Lithia answered, her large eyes growing narrow. “You mean to say, ‘I can’t stand.’”
“What-- OH!”
Using her natural abilities after having them restrained for so long was both a relief and terribly painful. Fireworks went off behind Lithia’s eyes, like the ones used by the Fyrendi to celebrate their Year’s End. Once again she was fighting for her footing, and very nearly lost the battle. Focus, she kept telling herself. She could feel the witch’s blood responding to her will.
At long last, like a mighty mountain finally giving in to the elements, Alga gave Lithia a murderous glare and then toppled to the floor beside Beatrice. The former apothecary began to wail. She did not stop even as the Li’lithuan girl, breathless and sweating, urged Kurik past their fallen captors.
The swordsman was muttering as they walked. “Sh’d… kill them…”
“No time,” Lithia told him. “Have to hang on to a little strength for what comes next. Now hurry, before she recovers!”
As quickly as their abused limbs would carry them, Lithia and Kurik made their escape from Mistress Alga’s house. Outside they went, through the snow, and down one street after another. Fortunately Kurik recognized the part of Keeper’s Gateway they were in and was able to indicate to his Li’lithuan companion where they should go in order to encounter busier streets.
It was in the mouth of an alleyway that opened onto one of those streets where Lithia stopped their progress and made a small show of checking Kurik over. He needed rest, she told him. Possibly stitches. “Seek out a healer as soon as possible,” she was saying. “But most importantly, tell Geran, tell everyone that Beatrice is the demon’s lifeline. It’s blood flows in time with hers. Tell them. Okay? You want to stop the demon, you’ll have to get your hands on her.”
“T-they’ll… listen to you.” Kurik rasped, pausing here and there to gasp. Until she had brought him outside, shirtless in the bitter cold of winter, he had not thought that he could hurt any more that he did previously. “I… I… swear. I’ll… tell them. So… you…”
“No,” Lithia shook her head. In spite of the fact that she was actually wearing less clothing than he was, given her strange costume, she seemed perfectly fine in the cold. “It has to be you. Remember!”
“What… ?”
“I’m not going back.” She pushed Kurik against the wall and stepped away, leaving him there. Raising one hand and holding it outstretched toward him, she added, “I’ll never be a prisoner again. Not willingly.”
“N-no! Don’t…” Kurik cried out too late. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and then blackness swooped in around him. He no longer felt the cold, not even from the snow that he fell into.
Lithia stood over him for but a moment. Was this right? She had no reason to believe him. Nobody would listen to her, and she would immediately be put under lock and key again. Would the next cage they gave her be better or worse than the last? She shook her head. Stepping out onto the street, she flagged down a pair of passing Guardsmen.
“Please help! This man has fainted!”