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I was gently roused from my uneasy slumber some few hours later. The sun was just beginning to paint the horizon with its fiery colors. The same two guards who had imprisoned me, removed me from my cell."It is time," said the same one that had spoken to me earlier. I was suddenly filled with the fear that this would be the last sunrise I would ever see. For all my talk of bravery back at the Green Dragon Inn...I was terribly afraid.
The two guards escorted me to a huge central arena. It was round and bowl-like in its design. The floor was covered in soft warm sand that was strangely warm beneath my feet. I looked around, but no one was present save myself and my guards. I heard the opening of a door echo through the enormous chamber. Far above us, on an ornate balcony, the form of the Queen came into view.
"Katja Armitanis, you are to be cleansed of all your ill-graces. This is the first portion of your cleansing. This is the Cleansing of Blood."
On the far end of the room, two double doors opened; from the shadowed depths beyond those doors something glinted momentarily. I barely had time to react as five silver daggers lanced through the air where I had previously stood only seconds ago. Sharidia stepped out onto the sand, a mocking grin curling her lips. Her sword glinted in the artificial light of the arena. As she swung it expertly, her amber eyes held mine. One of the guards stepped forward, "Your weapons, Commander."
Obediently, she handed over her arms, as the second guard came to me, "Your weapons, please." I, too, handed over my one weapon, the Dagger of Mystics, though my green eyes never left Sharidia. I watched her carefully, trying to judge what this cleansing was about.
"The cleansing will be finished when the High Priest deems it so," the Queen explained.
I nodded as the guard turned to me, "This way, please."
As we strode out across the sand, the ground shook and rumbled. Ahead, two immense trap doors opened from the floor, pushing the sand back in great mounds. From within those doors rose a platform upon which stood two tall poles with holes in the tops, through which a set of manacles was run on each side. The guard escorted me onto the platform and positioned me between the poles. As I look my place, I looked up at the jangling chains above my head. My guard leapt up, grabbing the chain and hauling it downward, creating a clangor as the chain ran through the eye of the pole; this he attached to my left wrist. He then proceeded to do the same action on the opposite side. When he finished, he stood in front of me, looking at me with his sea-green eyes. He looked at me for many moments before he softly whispered, "I'm sorry..."
He motioned with his hand, and the chains squealed as they were withdrawn back through the eyes of the poles. As the chains drew in, they, in turn, drew me up. My shoulders began to stretch in agony as I slowly began rising from the platform. I hung there with gritted teeth, determined not to cry out. I closed my eyes against the hot tears of rage and agony. I could not hear Sharidia approach over the blood thundering in my ears. All I registered was her fist slamming into my stomach.
The abrupt lack of air in my body and the lurching of my insides made my eyes flare open. Those amber eyes stared directly into mine, mocking my pain, enjoying it. My lips curled in a silent snarl, even though my body wanted to weep in increasing anguish. I was aware of every strike of Sharidia's paws, and soon became desensitized to her attacks. It was not until the lash of the whip ripped across my shoulder and neck that I again registered pain. After that, it was a constant barrage of agony. Sharidia struck relentlessly, taking revenge for the eight long years I had been beyond her grasp. Eventually, however, my body shut down against the onslaught. My eyes glazed over and I became unresponsive. The lash of the whip, and the raking of Sharidia's claws were no more painful to me than the caress of a zephyr. The sounds of her enraged attack grew increasingly distant. I could, somehow, make out the voice of the High Priest, trying to call Sharidia to a stop, but there was no cessation to this excruciating madness. Yet, soon, clear as a bell on a winter morn, the Queen's voice rang out across the arena, stopping the battery.
I tried to open my eyes, but pain, swelling, and still-sticky blood kept me from doing so. The torture stopped and I drew a shuddering breath. My lungs were ablaze with the damage they'd suffered. I was hardly aware of when my feet touched the ground, and even when they did, I collapsed to the platform--unmoving. I was strangely aware of very miniscule things. A rivulet of blood was slowly coursing down my left temple. A splinter was digging uncomfortably into my thigh. The room was curiously cold.
My guard knelt at my side, those sea-green eyes full of compassion. He set a glass down near me, "Drink. It will help with the pain."
I shook my head stubbornly, "No," I managed, "I'll be all right."
I placed my right arm under me, in an attempt to push myself up, but to no avail. I fell down hard against the wooden surface of the platform. My long, brown hair falling haphazardly over my shoulder.
Oh, Gods, I pleaded, Give me strength.
I laid there for what seemed like an eternity. The guard knelt by me still, "Can you continue?" he asked.
I growled and nodded.
The guard shook his head and nodded to the Queen above. She, in turn, nodded, "In an hour's time, you will undertake the Cleansing of Magic."
With that, I was dragged back to my cell by my two guards. They laid me down on the pallet and left me alone with my pain.
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© 1999 E. Angeli Mansfield