The Gathering

Chapter 30 Victim

 

Northern Morenia

30th Harvest 506 AG

 

Ruhn shivered. A damp chill permeated the workroom, despite the stacked fire. Even in what passed for Grow in this environment, the tower never truly warmed. Now, in Harvest, dark clouds filled the sky. Storms whipped waves to fury. Their great white-capped heads towered like giant serpents over the seas below. They battered upon the black rocks of the island as though seeking its destruction. No boats dared set sail. The waves cast up dead fish along with strange, pale, gelatinous creatures that appeared barely half-formed. Their rancid stink filled the air. An air of tension gripped the towerl. The older priests snapped at the younger ones, who showered black glowers on the acolytes.

He drew his cloak closer around him. 'When I've destroyed the world, remade it anew I'll live somewhere warm, like Mimmoria.'

'Or Estoria,' Krill suggested. 'Why not have residences in both countries? Or more if you wish.'

'I must obtain the rest of Belaron's treasures first.'

He glanced around at dark shadows in the corners of the workshop.

'Light more lamps,' he ordered. 'Then fetch more victims while I summon the monsters.'

He peered into the crystal. He'd seen where the magician had buried the necklace. He didn't know why he'd done such a thing. It didn't matter. He'd located the treasure. His monsters could fetch it.

The monsters appeared in the moonlit field. The ugly creatures stared about. They snuffled the ground. One jabbered excitedly. It knelt to dig. The other three stood nearby.

The first creature unearthed a black box. It opened it. Ruhn's heart beat faster at sight of the necklace. For a moment the monster held the sparkling jewels in its claw. Then the creature fell. It shuddered, its body glowing a dull red. Flames engulfed it in a quick explosive burst. Within a minute nothing remained but its charred shell. The other monsters drew back, yelping in fear.

'Go on, get the necklace,' Ruhn urged from his workshop.

The monsters drew near their burnt fellow slowly. One reached out for the necklace which had fallen from the charred hand. Another also made a grab. For an instant each held an end, tugging it between them. Before Ruhn could worry if they'd break the necklace, both monsters burst into flames.

Ruhn yelled in anger. He thought the fourth monster would return empty handed after what had happened its fellows. Yet after initial cries of alarm, the last monster reached for the necklace, fallen between their charred bodies. It burned like the others.

Ruhn turned away, infuriated. The monsters were useful but not very bright. The necklace lay in the field, gems glittering in the cold light of the moon. So near, yet out of reach. He seethed in chagrin. Why had it burnt the demons? Because they weren't human or would it burn anyone? Why hadn't those carrying it been harmed?

He threw the crystal at the far wall, roaring in rage. He cleared the worktable with a sweep of his arm. The thud and smash of objects landing on the stone floor gratified him. But he still hadn't obtained the treasure.

'Krill.'

The priest hurried towards him, crystal in his hand. He placed the shard on the empty worktable.

'Shall I fetch some victims?' Krill asked.

The eager whine in the priest's voice irritated him.

He considered. 'Bring just one. A girl. You know the kind I like.'

'Yes, master.'

The girl was blonde, willowy, attractive

'What's your name?'

'Melonie. I'm sixteen. I come from...

'Be quiet.'

He didn't care, although everyone should have a name. A pretty one, given by loving parents. Like hers was no doubt.

. Fear shone in Melonie's blue eyes as she stood before him. Fear, yet hope too. Hope that her attractiveness was a kind of shield. That his lust would protect her from other kinds of hurt. He smiled at such naivety.

Mistaking his smile, the girl smiled back. Uncertain, insincere, yet a smile. Her head lifted, more confident now. She knew the power of her prettiness. Oh, yes. It's always good to know one's power. How many men had salivated over her lushness?

'Undress.'

The girl disrobed slowly. She smiled seductively, displaying her wares. Not quite a whore. Too naïve for that. Yet all women could play the whore, a survival tactic, like breathing. The girl thought she might be playing for her life. A good incentive.

Gown and undergarments lay at her feet. Arms by her sides, the girl displayed herself. She smiled proudly now. She knew men found her attractive. He wanted to hit out, wipe that smirk of her face. But that would be too easy. Too quick.

Instead he watched her, face impassive. Watched her confidence crumble when his gaze continued to rake her body. One arm rose, covering her breasts, the other hid the mound between her legs. Her lips trembled as confusion replaced pride.

'Keep your arms at your sides,' he ordered.

The girl obeyed. Tears of humiliation and fear flowed down her cheeks. Her mouth contorted as she sought to keep her face straight. She knew that crying, real crying would make her look ugly. She struggled to stay pretty. She knew it was all she had.

He took the girl by the arm, her soft flesh yielding under his fingers. For a moment he thought of the fullness of her breasts against his bare skin. Of sinking into that warm flesh. He shook it off. She wasn't here for that. He had other, more potent hungers.

She halted when she saw the table.

'Please.'

She gazed back at him over her shoulder. She still didn't quite believe this was happening. That he would hurt her worse than she'd ever been hurt before.

'Lie down.'

He helped her up onto the table. She trembled too much to climb up on her own. Her whole body shook. She cried harder now. She no longer cared how it made her look. She'd realised there was no help in that.

'Please. No. Please.'

A childlike fear shone in her eyes. He guessed the girl had never really been hurt before. Before capture, she must have been loved, cared for. His priests hadn't yet broken her of the useless habit of hope.

She barely struggled when he laid her down on the table. Stretching her arms above her head, he secured her wrists and ankles. People are such sheep, he thought, although they struggle hard enough when the pain gets bad.

Her eyes widened when she saw the knife.

'Why?' Her tongue licked dry lips.

He smiled. Why anything? Because he could. Because it felt good.

The first cuts were shallow, the knife so sharp, she hardly grimaced. He traced an artwork over her body. His pleasure grew.

The next round of cuts sliced deeper. She struggled now. He grinned when she cried out, pleading for him to stop.

He felt strong, excited, powerful. The knife slashed deeper. She really struggled now. Her body contorted, trying to escape the knife. She screamed until she was hoarse. He lost all control. He gouged her body in orgasmic pleasure.

When she grew too weak to struggle or whimper any more, he killed her. She was only a heap of meat then anyway, unrecognisable. He smiled, washing her blood from his hands. Murder always did make him feel good.