Freya's Freedom (The Tower and the Eye Book 3) Page 6

  Freya was speechless. But they’re so pretty. She flinched as one fluttered toward her. Vox snapped at it and the large pale winged creature drifted away.

  “Thank you Vox.”

  “Vren! Vrenstalliren!” Freya called again as they kept moving. They’d been walking down the tunnel for nearly an hour. “Where is he?”

  She stopped as the others halted in front of her. Lin had her hand on her sword and Kraarz had conjured a ball of light to the head of his staff.

  “The flooring in front of me is paved,” Lin said. “I am beginning to think this may be that dungeon you were talking about.”

  Vox dropped down to the ground.

  “I’ll scout ahead. Where there are Dark influences, there are usually traps.” Its paws made no sound, even on the paving.

  The rest of them waited on the sand.

  Vox snorted.

  “Typical of the Dark Gods really, they never change their ways, even when they are defeated time and again.” Its voice echoed with derision.

  “This happened before?” Freya watched the Flixen sniff around the first few slabs. Has Vox got bigger?

  “When the world was new and the inhabitants young,” Kraarz began, “the Gods walked openly upon the surface of Quargard. The Dark Gods gathered all those creatures who were inclined to them and made war upon the Gods of Light.”

  “Needless to say, they were eventually defeated and imprisoned,” Vox interrupted. “We don’t have time to go through all that, Kraaz. The Paladin is somewhere down the end of this corridor and there are traps to be disarmed. I can deal with the magic ones, but Lin will have to disarm the physical ones.” The Flixen jumped up onto Lin’s shoulder and she grunted under its weight.

  “You’ve been overeating, Vox,” she grumbled. “You’re heavy.”

  “Never mind that. We have to get moving!” Vox snapped in her ear.

  Freya looked at Vox. The Flixen had grown and was now the size of one of the cats Jetara had. How fast do real Flixen mature?

  Moving onto the paving, Lin and Vox began to disarm traps. Freya and Kraarz followed cautiously behind. Some of the traps were simple pitfalls and spikes, others more elaborate with more than one swinging blade. At one point, they had to run down a side passage to escape a massive boulder that had been released by a careless footfall on Lin’s part.

  The group stopped, Kraarz gasping for breath as Vox checked the area for traps.

  “We’re all clear, although I have no idea where we are now.” The Flixen pattered off into the darkness.

  Kraarz swallowed half his water bottle’s contents.

  “See why I said Vox causes trouble when it takes physical form?”

  Freya shrugged.

  “It’s helped so far.”

  “It’s just getting started.” Kraarz grumbled.

  Lin stretched.

  “This place is like one of the Imperial Labyrinths the Late Empress had built.”

  “Maybe she was influenced by the Dark Tower?” Freya raised one eyebrow.

  “No, by that time your grandmother had lost any sense of propriety,” Lin winced. “The labyrinths were built as death sentences for upper class criminals.”

  They lapsed into silence, Freya beginning to wonder if her family was as good as her mother had always told her.

  “I’m beginning to think that there is something else working here,” Vox said as it reappeared. “There are no traps at all down here and the corridor ends with a plain door; no Magic or traps. Not even an alarm on the door.”

  “Are you saying the Dungeon is still inhabited?” Freya asked. “All the stories I’ve heard, say the creatures in them were made of evil magic and it dispersed when the Aracan Katuvana was defeated.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Freya.” Vox wandered over and rubbed up against her legs. “The creatures are as mortal as you. They were created in the same way and live in the same way. Its how they are raised and managed that makes them Evil.”

  “Too true,” Kraarz said sadly. “The Urakh were a part of that evil for thousands of years before The Black Tower War. It is only since we were freed of the Aracan Katuvana that we have become peaceable.”

  “So what do we do now?” Freya looked worried. “We have to find Vrenstalliren.”

  “Why?” Lin raised an eyebrow. “He’s insulted you, hurt one of your companions and steadfastly refused to even contemplate that you are intelligent enough to know what you are doing.”

  “He’s the first man to treat me like a human being and not an object to be admired or played with,” she replied. “He has protected me at the cost of his own life and delayed his own journey home to do so.”

  “Then he is honourable and deserving of our help,” Kraarz said, from where he had sat down. He hauled himself up, using his staff as a lever. “We shall take the inhabitants of this dungeon at their invitation and enter through the unguarded door.”

  Vox purred in agreement.

  “Lin, you and I shall go first; to make sure there is no danger. Kraarz, can I count on you to shield Freya if there is trouble?”

  “Yes, Vox. I shall indeed do as you request.” Kraarz pulled out a green cord with a ceramic spiral pendant. “Wear this, my lady and Magic shall bounce away from you.”

  She took the pendant and slipped its cord over her head.

  “Thank you, Kraarz.” Taking a deep breath, she smiled at Lin. “Shall we move on then?”

  * * *

  The Jar watched the party’s progress with a smile on its black stone face. Behind it, the Aracan Katuvana snored on his throne and Gmichi lay beside it, bubbles of saliva popping on his lips before the drool dribbled down to stain his tabard.

  I do believe it is time to put the first part of my plan into action, the Jar mused, its eye turning to look at the console beside it. With a whisper of power, the Jar activated the window beside the one showing the Jinra Dungeon. The Lych Mistress’s beautiful face appeared, relaxed in sleep. A Hellpuppy curled in the rich red wool cloth that covered the elven woman’s striking form. With a second wisp of power, the Jar activated the mindspeech tool, allowing it to reach into the dreams of the Lych Mistress. “Hear me, Lady Lych. Hear the voice of your Master.”

  The woman on the red covered bed stirred slightly and a smile slid across her lips. “I hear you, my most beloved Lord.” Her mind tone was soft and sleepy.

  “Lady Freya has been drawn into the Jinra Dungeon. Sir Grald will soon require the services of his wife to persuade his sister to join us. Make sure that Lady Erendell is ready for the task.” The Jar paused and the Lych Mistress nodded in her sleep. “I will need your presence in I’Mor Barad soon. Prepare yourself to become my bride at last.”

  The Jar withdrew from the mind of the Lych Mistress and watched as she gasped and her eyes opened. Then it shut that window down and went back to watching Freya as she arrived at the door to the main Dungeon.

  * * *

  The passageway on the other side of the door flickered brightly with candles. Freya examined one of the candelabra, a perfect bronze reproduction of a bull’s head and jumped back as it opened its eyes, looked at her and the rest of the party, snorted and went back to sleep.

  “Minotaur heads,” Kraarz said. “One of the few creatures that turned from the dominion of the Dark Gods and were wiped out in retaliation.”

  “They’re still alive,” Freya shuddered.

  “They can’t die,” Vox told her. “Like me, the Minotaurs were part magic. But because I am here, they won’t alert whoever is in charge of the Dungeon.”

  “Why?” Lin asked as they walked up the corridor, her eyes darting along the flagstones, searching for trap triggers.

  “I have a standing agreement with the Minotaur spirits.” The Flixen shrugged its now hound size shoulders. “We go back a long way.”

  “Oh.” Lin frowned at a large lump on the floor in front of her. “Is this a magic trap, Vox?”

  Vox padded forward and sniffed the lump carefully.

&
nbsp; “No. It’s physical.”

  Lin knelt down and began to disarm the trap with Vox’s whispered comments in her ears. Kraarz and Freya waited behind them.

  Freya blushed as her stomach made an audible grumbling sound.

  “Are you hungry?” the Shaman inquired.

  Freya nodded.

  “It feels like days since breakfast.”

  Kraarz smiled at her exaggeration and occupied himself with one of the many pouches hanging from his belt.

  “I believe I have some honeybread here somewhere.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  There was a slight grating sound and Freya shrieked, but as Kraarz and Vox turned to find out why, she disappeared into a hole in the wall.

  Vox bounded forward, its claws scrabbling as it slammed into the closed secret door.

  “Sweet Vaarzasia!”

  Kraarz cursed in his own language.

  Lin spun.

  “Why didn’t you two protect her?” she stood up, her hand dropping to the hilt of her sword.

  “We did not have a chance, Lin. They took her before we knew they were there,” Kraarz shrugged turning his hands palm up.

  “Where would they take her?” Lin demanded.

  Kraarz and Vox looked at each other and nodded simultaneously.

  “The Prison.”

  “How in the name of Fiörna do we find that?” Lin demanded.

  Vox grinned, his eyes narrowing and giving his fox-like face a definite wicked cast.

  “I use my nose.”

  * * *

  In the window, Freya was being strapped onto a massive cartwheel by two burly ogres.

  “I must admit, I am surprised at her lack of struggle, Lord.” Beside the red and black robed figure, a black stone jar with a single roiling, green eye, watched the scene, a lascivious smile on its lips.

  The Aracan Katuvana shrugged.

  “You do not seem happy that she has been captured so easily.” The Jar’s eye swivelled around the outside curve of its body as the Aracan Katuvana turned and stalked back to the throne.

  He sat down with one gauntleted hand disappearing into the shadow of his hood and stared at the window.

  Gmichi picked the Jar up and scurried across the room, depositing his burden on a pedestal beside the throne. The Jar alternated between watching the window and looking at the Aracan Katuvana.

  In the window, the ogres had carried Freya and the wheel over to the wall and slid it onto a large axle poking out of the stones. Below the wheel sat a large trough. The wheel had been positioned with Freya lying horizontal above the glittering water and in which teamed a school of fish. They leapt and snapped at her left foot and hand, which were just inside the inner rim of the wheel.

  “What are you planning, Lord? This introspection is most unlike you,” the Jar murmured, frowning.

  With a wave of his hand, the Aracan Katuvana increased the volume on the window.

  “How in Tyr’s name did I get myself into this?” the voluptuous girl groaned.

  Securely lashed to the wheel on the wall of the Torture Chamber, Freya watched the approaching Dark Mistress with some trepidation.

  “Forget how you got yourself into it; how did you get me into it!”

  Across the chamber, the barred side of the holding cell allowed its occupants a ringside seat at the entertainments provided for the Dark Mistresses.

  The current incumbent, pressed himself up against the bars, an irritated expression on his handsome face.

  The Dark Mistress paced ever closer, her silver plaits tipped with shining golden blades, swaying with her sultry walk. Her long red leather skirt, had slits on both sides, showing legs with soft dark skin above thigh-high black leather boots.

  Freya closed her eyes, hearing the tap, tap of the steel-heeled boots echo around the cavernous room.

  “Now this is going to be good,” the Jar said.

  The Aracan Katuvana grunted and waved a hand at the Jar, who fell silent.

  * * *

  “If you hadn’t run off ahead of us, you wouldn’t have got captured,” Freya retorted, watching the masked woman perusing a selection of instruments and whips hanging on a nearby rack.

  “If you would just act the way a proper maiden should, I wouldn’t have been in that position,” Vrenstalliren hissed. “I was scouting ahead to make sure that there was nothing going to attack you.”

  “For the last time, Prince Vrenstalliren, I am not a maiden! How could I endure the life I have had to this point and still be a maiden?” Freya felt like strangling him with her bare hands. The amulet Kraarz had given her was in pieces on the floor, having fallen off while the wheel had been put in place and stood on by an ogre. What was the point in guarding me against magic when I was abducted physically?

  The Dark Mistress turned and slapped Freya across the face, her sharpened nails leaving bloody furrows across Freya’s cheek.

  “You will not speak so to the next King of Alethdariel.”

  Vrenstalliren blinked and stared.

  “My sister is next in line and my brother after her. I won’t…” his voice trailed away and he frowned.

  The woman paced over to the bars, and slowly ran her fingers drown his bare chest.

  “The Aracan Katuvana will not see such a fine specimen of Elven Royalty wasted.” Blood from Freya’s cheek inscribed lines over his skin.

  “Do I know you?” He pulled away from her touch.

  “You’ll get to know me soon,” she purred and reaching through the bars, grabbed the waistband of his leggings, pulling him towards her. “As soon as I have finished with my current task, you and I shall spend some quality time together.”

  Vrenstalliren threw himself backward, her nails ripping the material away from his body.

  “No! I am a Paladin of Espilieth; your wiles cannot affect me.”

  She laughed and tossed the ruined leggings aside.

  “I shall look forward to trying, though, your Grace.” Her gaze lingered on his groin for a second before the Dark Mistress spun and stalked back to Freya.

  “You have been such a very naughty girl,” she said, her fingers delicately tracing the drying scratches on Freya’s cheek. “You have upset some important people and now you will reap the reward of such disobedience.”

  Freya flinched.

  “What do you mean? The only important people I know have all been happy with my efforts.”

  The Dark Mistress laughed.

  “Those are in the past. The people you need to please now, are the ones watching every move you make.” She stretched her arms and sighed. “But first we have to make you sorry for what you did.”

  Stepping to one side, the Dark Mistress pulled a lever, which started the wheel turning slowly.

  Freya looked down and saw the water and the fish coming closer to her head. “I haven’t done anything! I haven’t hurt anyone or stolen anything. Why are you doing this?” Her hair started to dip into the water, the fish tugging on it eagerly.

  “I do this because I am told to.” She paused, and then giggled. “Of course, I enjoy it as well.”

  The ends of Freya’s hair were almost touching the water. The fish jumped at it and Freya shrieked as several hairs were torn from her scalp by the eager piscines.

  The Dark Mistress pressed a button and the wheel halted, squeaking.

  “Are you sorry?”

  “I haven’t done anything!” Freya screamed as another fish leapt from the water and nipped the end of her nose.

  “My babies are hungry today, it seems,” the mistress smiled. “They only ate a Gremlin yesterday. I wonder what sort of mess they could make of that beautiful face of yours.”

  “No. Please, don’t hurt me.” Blood from her nose fell into the water, sending the fish into a feeding frenzy. “I don’t understand why I’m here, or why you’re doing this!”

  The door to the Torture Chamber flew open.

  “Halt!” A familiar voice bellowed, the Jinran accent rolling
around the capacious room. “You shall not continue with this barbarity.”

  “Grald!” Freya squealed with delight.

  The Mistress turned and hissed.

  “You will not stop me, I am protected.” She snapped her fingers; instantly they were surrounded by a group of Dragon Spawn.

  They hissed and spat at Grald as he advanced, bared blade held high. One dragon spawn leapt at him and Grald knocked it away with his shield. The creature landed in the small pool and shrieked as the water bubbled around it.

  “Hmm. Won’t need to feed that shoal tonight,” the Mistress laughed.

  “Glad to be of service,” Grald snarled, splitting a second Dragon Spawn in two with one blow.

  “Watch out!” Vrenstalliren shouted as several dragon spawn appeared behind the knight.

  Grald saluted the encaged Paladin and spun, slicing through three of the Spawn before they had moved.

  Freya watched, entranced by her brother’s skills with a sword. How did he improve his sword work so much? It’s hard to follow him while I hang up side down, but when he left Jira, he was good, but only in one on one, never melee. He always got knocked out in the arena battles.

  Another Dragon Spawn lunged at Grald and managed to grab his shield. He slammed it into a nearby column and dropped it down the opening of a pit. A roar echoed up from below and a shriek as whatever was in the pit devoured the dragon spawn.

  “My, my. What a warrior we have here,” the Dark Mistress purred to Freya. “He’s too good for these idiots. I may have to take him on myself.”

  “He’ll have you chopped into pieces before you can touch him,” Vrenstalliren crowed from the holding cell. “You’ll be gremlin fodder.”

  “Sadly, I think your companion may be right, my sweet prisoner,” the Mistress said, running a nail along Freya’s body. “But I have more than one trick up my tight leather sleeves.”

  “You won’t get a...” Freya started. Her voice disappeared as the mistress held a black dagger to her throat, pressing hard enough for a dribble of blood to run from the blade and drip into the water, sending the fish into a second frenzy, jumping up, their fins splashing Freya’s face with water, and tugging on her hair.

  “Chance? Oh, my dear, I know more about your brother than you think I do. He’d never put you in danger,” the mistress whispered to her.