Tragic Innocence

Chapter 38: Pentulla's Obsession

            Pentulla sat in silent deliberation as she held tightly to Crow’s rigid back.  By the constant flexing of his muscles, she could tell that he was controlling his anger.  She, herself, trembled with fury as well.  Her mind replayed the confrontation over and over again until the slip of darkness peeked into her mind.  She turned cold and began to quake with the chill.

            “We are almost there, I will build a fire quickly so that you may warm yourself by it.”  Crow’s intuitiveness reached her as she nodded silently.

            She leaned against his warmth and closed her eyes and focused her breathing.  She did not care to experience the helpless fear that had flushed her so completely while she played the harp!

            Once inside Crow’s dark and cavernous home, he settled her upon his preferred seat and tossed his cloak about her shoulders, the cold puff of air being quickly extinguished by its heavy warmth.  She leaned back and closed her eyes yet again, sharply aware of Crow’s shuffling about the house in plain darkness.

            Once the fire was lit within its alcove, Crow crouched by her elbow, his brow crinkled with concern.  “Will you be fine?”

            “I am rather exhausted by the whole affair and feel rather fatigued.”           “Yes, it has been a rather tiresome day.  Come,” he smoothly rose to his feet with his arm extended, “I’ll escort you to your chambers and will build you a fire there as well.”

            “Thank you very much for your kind hospitality,” Pentulla cooed as she accepted his outstretched hand.  “What of Slinof?  Will he be about soon?”    Crow sniggered good-naturedly, acting as a peaceful salve upon Pentulla’s anxious disposition.  “He will be later.  ’Tis nothing to worry over, he can take care of himself.”

            “Yes, I am sure of that,” she smiled as she could still see blurred images of combating dwarves against the goblin emperor and his hoard of hosts.           Pentulla snuggled deeply beneath the thick covers that gently brushed against her chin.  Her eyes felt too heavy to keep her gaze upon the licking flames of the cozy fire that Crow had so generously built for her.  Sleep now clung to her lashes and pressed heavily upon her body.  With a smile of contentment, she turned to her side and felt as if her spirit floated away into the calming stillness of the chamber.

            A deep, scratchy voice penetrated the barriers of her mind.  Pentulla tossed and turned, her face screwed with an intense expression.  “Elondra...”  The strange name was whispered eerily that echoed endlessly into a dark and dreary mist.  “Elondra…” it repeated with the same effect.

            “No...”  Pentulla then heard another voice, weak and submissive.  It belonged to that of a young maiden that resembled an awesome strength of familiarity.

            A quick flash stabbed through the stage of her mind and with it, a dreaded presence that was linked to the most horrid face she had ever beheld.  It had red, piercing eyes that glared evilly through slits.  Its long, crooked nose hung well below black sneering lips that revealed decaying teeth.  Was this someone she had greatly feared at one time in her life, or was it purely a fabrication of her own making?

            A shudder tore through her nonetheless as Pentulla could feel herself cringing and backing against a solid wall behind her.

            “Yes...  You know me very well,” the demon’s hiss was oily.  “I have something very special I have been so longing to show you.”

            “No, I shan’t this time!  It has come to an end!  I will resist!”  Again, the familiar maiden’s voice cried out in anguish.