61Calix in Chains
Chapter Six
Do you know that moment of panic when you realize something is missing? Maybe you're sitting at the restraunt, preparing to order your feast for the day, and you feel the emptiness of your back pocket. There's no wallet there. That moment of terror at realizing that you're stranded in a desert at 2AM, and your cell phone is mysteriously absent. Can you feel that immediate panic in your chest? That "oh shit, where is it?" feeling?
Upon being dragged into Vance's chambers, I get this feeling, but multiply it by a hundred. I can sense every heartbeat in the room, as usual, and each servant elf is bleeding fear into the room. The heady mix of fear and awe would usually send me spiraling into a bloodthirsty, arrogant stupor. But I feel nothing. No desire to slash and claw my way through the spectators. No need to bare my horns and flaunt my power. I feel empty.
"Sit, demon," Vance commands from his throne of diamond, silver, and random gaudy trinkets. The guards push me into a chair before the throne. Calix kneels beside me. His eyes search my eyes. I turn away, knowing that what he will find shouldn't be found.
But in the way that he grabs my hand - warmly, intimately - I know that it's too late. He knows. Something has changed.
"How do you like your new wardrobe?" Vance asks with a smirk.
The clothes are built for the lithe bodies of elves. Calix's teal and silver outfit suits him fine. Mine, however, is too tight in the chest and arms. The fabric clings to me. Just to spite the sea elf king, I rip the shirt off. He frowns.
"I'm at a loss here, my dear demon." Vance stands pacing over to Calix and I, dropping a hand to Calix's shoulder. "I don'tquite know what to do with you.
The thought of sentencing you to live out the rest of your days in my torture chambers makes me salivate." His eyes gleam. Calix visibly stiffens.
"However, shortly after you arrived, I received a request from the high elf king, our very own Erich. He wants you to be transferred into his custody." Vance's eye narrows on me. "Do you have any idea why the high elf king wants anything to do with scum like you?"
Fata viam invenient echoes in my head.
"Probably wants to kill you himself," Vance muses. "Too bad. You're mine to dismember. And your fair little elf slave here will be considered among the slaves for my troops. He ships off tomorrow morning. Take them away!"
I jerk out of the grasp of the guard who seizes me. Calix bucks against the sea elf who grabs him, but he is too weak. I watch, torn, as he is hauled away. His eyes lock with mine. In that glance is such desperation and hopelessness. It doesn't suit him.
"Vance..."
The guard attempts to restrain me again. I crush his skull. The sea elf king turns, alarm painted on his snobbish face. I stride toward the king.
"We'll get out of here. You know this. How we do it is entirely up to you."
Vance's surprise melts into cool, arrogant indifference. "You immature little fool." A flick of his wrist. A dart shoots from the barrel of a gun, wielded in the shadows. I black out.
I wake disoriented, annoyed, and suspended by heavy metal chains. The sea elf king has expertly outfitted his torture chamber. All manner of weapons adorn the walls, as well as some instruments that I don't recognize, but would hurt like hell if used how I imagine them to be used.
I hear shuffling behind me, and Vance comes into my vision. He's slapping a whip against his palm, circling me, a familiar gleam in his eye. I reach for the rage inside me, willing strength into my arms that will snap the metal chains as easily as spaghetti noodles.
Except I can't find the rage. It's as though my very identity has been stolen from me. Is this what the high elf king meant by "ascension?" Losing my power, becoming craven and neutral?
"Demons." Vance spits, sneering at me. "The scourge of the earth."
"That's a bit racist, don't you think?"
"Shut up!" The whip cracks the air, flaying open the skin it touches on my shoulder. It heals quickly, of course, but it still hurts like a bitch.
"I am among the older of the sea elves, you see. I lived through the torment of the years of your parents' reign of terror. Watching my subjects suffer... and not at my own hand! Having my power undermined for years. I was made made a laughingstock!"
The whip strikes again, this time opening and angry red line of flesh across my torso.
"And now, to have you here, the son of the great Aaron... it will take centuries to satiate the thirst I have for your blood. I intend to take my time." Vance strikes three more times, and I grit my teeth. No fucking way I'd give him the satisfaction of making a single sound.
"It seems I will be forced to hide my little torture slave. The high elf king visited you in your dreams, didn't he?" Vance chuckles. "Fata viam invenient. You awoke uttering those words."
Vance replaces the whip with a dagger. He rams it into my gut. The pain is enough to coax a low groan from my throat.
"What does the elf lord want with you?"
"Hell if I know."
"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Stabbed, again. My entrails flop out onto the floor. Damn. Growing those back is going to be a pain in the ass.
Unfortunately, demons can suffer quite a bit of injury before succumbing to bloodloss. By the time a black sheet drops over my vision, Vance, as well as the dungeon floor, is swimming in my blood.
I awake thinking that I'm really fucking sick of blacking out in this shit hole elf world.
"Oh, Holy Fates. What have they done to you?"
A face looms in front of mine. I see the pointed ears and shining eyes of Calix. Except it isn't Calix.
"Gather your organs, demon, and follow me." The young Calix has breasts, her chest heaving in exhaustion. "We've got to find my brother and get you to Erich."
I'm baaackk! And writing on my cell phone. It sucks, it's slow, but it's necessary.