Oracus: The Lavorian Rider

Seven - A King's Daughter

Catania was locked in a dark, damp dungeon with the unbearable cold biting her bare flesh. The only source of light was from a tiny, barred window where a slither of white moonlight was cast onto the squalid floor. She was forced to stand in her chains, with shackles around her wrists linked to the ceiling and manacles weighing down her feet, while the other prisoners were boxed in cages along the walls that would have been too small even for dogs.

Catania had been in the dungeon for three whole days. In that time, she hadn't once been fed, or indeed seen anyone other than the caged captives around her. She had watched the steel door for hours at a time, and occasionally turned her attention to the rats that prowled from shadow to shadow. Even whilst standing she was fighting sleep, but she didn't dare to close her eyes and leave herself vulnerable. And neither did she think she would cope if her dreams were a repeat of Alticon's death.

When the moon appeared to be at its brightest, darkness briefly washed over the moonlit floor and Catania lifted her head expectantly. Two bangs of a lock followed by a slow creak echoed loudly within the dungeon, and the scent of fresh air floated into the room. Catania squinted at two men who were stood together in the doorway, one much taller and slimmer than the short, pot-bellied other, and her heart began to pound in her chest.

Immediately, pleads for freedom from the caged prisoners commenced, but Catania knew the two men were seeking her. She stared fearfully while they lingered at a distance, and then gasped as the taller man glided towards her.

"You look weak, Catania," his voice rasped evilly when he reached her. Even in the darkness, his crimson eyes glowed with malice. "Who would have thought a daughter of mine could look so pathetic?"

Catania withdrew from him as far as her shackles would allow. She didn't want to look at his pale face, nor smell the dampness in his greasy black hair.

The man's lipless mouth contorted into a sinister smile. "It's been a long time, my child. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see you again." He paused and stroked her cheek with his dexterous fingers. "If memory serves me correctly, you left all those years ago with something that belonged to me." His scarlet eyes looked deep into Catania's soul. "The Lavorian, Catania! You stole the Lavorian!"

"You tortured him!" Catania snapped, feeling anger building inside her.

"Do not shout at me!" the man bellowed. He struck her twice across the face with his hand. "I am your King! Learn to respect me!"

Catania cried out in pain and dropped her eyes to the floor, her anger subsiding. The man's rage eased too, and he ran his fingers gently over the red marks on her face. Suddenly Catania was back to feeling frightened, and she shirked away from his touch.

"A King should expect his people to follow him and fight for him," the man said in a calm whisper that Catania could not fail to understand. "The majority of them do. But some feel it is necessary to oppose me. Such rebels cause me a problem, Catania, because they make my land imperfect. And as you know only too well, I despise imperfection." He ran a frustrated hand through his waxy hair. "So, I'll give you a very reasonable choice. Either command your people to surrender to their King, as they should, or I will march my soldiers into your city and kill every man, woman and child who lives there."

"Threaten me all you like," Catania said, discovering the last of her courage. "We both know you don't have the strength to invade my city, or you would have done so already. And don't think you can torture me into submission either, I will never make my people bow to you."

"Oh, your predictability is astonishing," the man replied with a bored shake of his head. "You didn't think I'd actually threaten you without sufficient leverage, did you?" His thin mouth curled into a smile again. "I could march my soldiers into your city and force you to surrender, but that would be a waste of precious men. So how about this...?" He began to pace backwards and forwards as he spoke. "Why don't you give me control of your people in return for the freedom of your precious wolf?"

Catania gulped. "But Alticon is dead. Your men killed him in the forest when they captured me."

"No, no, no! I wouldn't have let them kill him," the man assured. "Not when I could use him against you like this."

As if on cue, a howl of pain came from outside the dungeon door. Catania tugged at the shackles and cried out in despair.

"So, what do you say now?" the man urged, his red eyes bulging sadistically. "I could cause him a lot of discomfort, or you could just agree to cooperate."

Catania stopped struggling against her bonds and sagged in defeat. There was nothing she could do to deny the King now. "I'll do whatever you want," she conceded. "Just don't hurt him anymore. Please."

The man clapped his hands together triumphantly. "Wonderful!" He stepped away from Catania and moved towards where the short, fat man was still standing in the doorway. "Unbind her, Riskin," he ordered. "We're taking my daughter back to the palace."

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