Tragic Innocence

Chapter 56:

            Pentulla groaned as she wearily pulled herself to an aching consciousness.  Was it her imagination that played an evil prank, or had she truly heard the familiar sound of dreadful laughter?  A ripping shudder quaked between her shoulders.  She hoped she had only been dreaming…

            She tried to move, but couldn’t.  Her aching body felt stiff and extremely cumbersome.  That was when she felt the familiar presence stirring within the expansive fortress.  Her spirits quickly drowned into the depths of iciness.  No!  Could it be?  Inconceivable!  She forced her loud breathing to quietness and listened carefully.  Yes…  She could feel him moving about in search for her!  Dread filled her heart once more.  How was that possible?  Shen had hexed the monster for good!  Didn’t he?

            Stirring again but with purpose and renew vigor, her mind worked hard to recall her prior circumstances.  How did she end up in this dark, blasted space where she seemed to be bound hand and foot?

The last thing she remembered was falling from Crow’s grasp and into the hideous black mouth of the castle’s bowels.  A swift dropping sensation tickled her stomach to gittery wakefulness and she suddenly felt queasy.  She should have died somehow from the depths that waited for her plummeting body, like a sea demon for a ship to sink forever.  How was it likely and where was she now?  How was she ever to find them again?

Again, the sinister chuckle rose from her mind and she shivered.  Anything was plausible now.

            As if reading her thoughts, Denlone began to emanate blinding light of color into her squinting eyes.  It floated into the air and fought to free itself from the strong cord that held it tight to her chaffed neck.

            “No!” she hissed as she tried to move a hand to suppress it.  Nothing.         Pentulla squirmed.  The light from the talisman illuminated the chamber where she was bound.  It was small, stuffy and damp, like that of a used sepulcher.  She noted many ancient paintings of the Sychra that had once been tortured by the hand of Rolac.  Unable to take in the depicted gore any longer, she shut her eyes and retched over the edge of where she lay.  How could Rolac have done all that?

            After gathering her wits, she found a mural of herself in the midst of a crystalline pond with the dark form of the wizard passing through her.  A dagger was tightly wrapped in his hand, superimposing with hers; ready, waiting for the unsuspecting Shen.

            She shook, heat rising quickly to her throat again.  Pentulla was about to hurl again when her reflex was interrupted by a fearsome howl that echoed hollowly throughout the castle.  Panic washed over her, causing her fingers to grow heavy with shocked numbness.  She must hasten to remove herself from this oubliette before it was too late!

She closed her eyes and tried to calm down and concentrate on a freeing charm.  Let go to the tranquility of my dreams, my desires...pleasures.  A deep physical gratification swirled within her belly before traveling up her torso through her bosom and, at last, her arms.  Realizing that she had been unable to utilize her talent since she had gained entrance, she focused on the art.  Her lips parted in haste as she urgently prayed to have her wits sharp and about her to keep clear focus of magic; the magic that would free her.  She would also need it to defeat the evil tyrant who tortured her family and kin.

            Soft laughter floated over to her ears as she yelped with the ability to bolt into a sitting position.

              At the entrance close by, hovered a cloaked figure with familiar glowing eyes that beat a steady rhythm.  “Elondra.  You are still as beautiful as I recall.”  The voice sounded soft and almost lonely.