CHAPTER 4
A Cruel Capture
“Ugh,” Imoen grunted in her most unladylike manner when she was pushed further by the end of a bandit’s pike. Her hands where tied at the back, restricting options that she had thought to act on to ensure her escape. Unfortunately, right now she was surrounded by bandit guards that lewdly leered at her and was being watched by the armored man.
“Move it girl. You wouldn’t want to get HIM angry,” the guard poking her with the pike smiled as he pointed at the armored man, who seemed to be the leader.
“Stuff it Warg-brain,” retorted the young mage, which only seemed to get her another annoying poke from the brigand’s pike.
It felt like hours during the forced journey to anywhere the armor-clad man was leading his entourage. There was no stop for rest, no breather, and no word or plea for permission to settle for a moment to catch a bite to eat or a sip to drink. The only activity was traversing in the deep forests of somewhere. Imoen thought that the area the brigand squad was navigating through was probably near the Cloakwood Forests.
However, during that time, there was no entertainment and the men were getting restless due to the boredom of traveling and no allowance of settling down. Imoen felt really nervous as she bagan to receive stares from the scum around her.
“Hey um, Great Fharadas sir, mind if we have a bit of fun with her first,” one of the guards asked with a hungry look on is face, the kind of look that he probably never had a chance gaze upon a female for long terms of his service.
Just when she thought that something bad was going to happened to her, in which she prepared her fireball spell ready at thought, an unexpected event surprised her when she expected the more obvious since she was surrounded by brigand scum who wanted nothing more than to pillage and rape for pleasure.
The armored figure looked towards man who asked for doing the dirty deed with the young captive. He calmly came up to him and with one quick stroke he caught his throat tightly and threatened to choke him.
“I warn you that she is NOT to be touched even by the likes of you,” Fharadas, which was now the name revealed for the armor-clad leader, cruelly warned the punished. “SHE is a special request for the Lady herself. If anyone dares to lay a hand on her skin, they shall be at the end of my cold blade, their groin mutilated and their insides flayed until you can see the crimson wave of pain and death. Do you heed my words you cursed whelp-of-a-bitch?”
The bandit struggled to nod and Fharadas freed his throat, leaving his henchman to gasp for air. His fellows helped him to his feet and assured him that sought pursuit of the pleasure of Imoen’s flesh was not worth the pain and effort, stating that her breasts are too small and there were other wenches to eye upon. However, despite the words, the man looked coldly at her and to his leader and furiously brushed off his supporters when he fell back to formation. Imoen felt a little glad that her capturer staved off the incoming pursuit of rape but at the same time she was slightly angered at their comments. Her breasts were not small! However, she quickly came to her senses and realized that if she did not plan an escape out of her bonds, she may be as well subjected to any grim atrocity that may fall before her once “Fharadas” reached his destination.
Now to think about it, she still hasn’t seen his face, nor knew more about her capturer.
Hours seem to turn to days but soon the tiresome journey finally to an end came at an end when the entourage reached through a clearing of passage from the deep forests. As they entered through the clearing, Imoen then noticed that the destination revealed itself to be a bandit outpost. It had seemed that the rumors provided by Ol’ PuffGuts were proven true. There were makeshift buildings supported with the binding of wood. Wooden towers were stationed at the corner ends of the wall protecting the outpost, which was heavily fortified with wood. Imoen saw the brigand men forcing the people in rags into doing building work and mining, for she saw a hole on the surface leading to a mine.
“Halt!”
The men finally stopped.
The young mage thought that the troubles of bandits ended when she and her brother wiped out the factions hired by the Iron Throne. Now it seems that suspicions about a newly formed organization of banditry were deemed true as she was standing in the core of proof.
“Men you are all dismissed,” ordered the leader and his people dispersed into their own tents for rest, pleasure, or whatever they did. He then turned to Imoen.
Fharadas then approached her. Although his entire face was covered from his skull-like helm, she could see his eyes, the color of cold blue. It reminded her of something.
The armored man spoke. “You shall follow me.”
She was then led aggressively to a prison tent. There were stakes on the ground with metal bondages chained to them. There was one prisoner who was chained but he or she was wasted away since the mage could only see decayed bones near them. She was then chained to the thick, wooden pole that held the stability of the makeshift prison. Fharadas leaned over to Imoen’s face and slowly rubbed her face.
“So… fair. You remind me of my Lady.” Fharadas said softly as he intimately held her chin as if he was holding something precious.
“Get yer filthy hands off me,” Imoen said in disgust. She certainly did not want to be touched by HIM.
The armored fighter then stood up and looked down her as if she was some rotten thing to be cast down upon.
“It doesn’t matter. You are now here,” he said with a grim tone. “I wonder what she wanted from you. You are nothing but a mere rodent living off the ashes of waste than that compared to her. I understand that you are mage, are you not? You will find no advantage here. Those ropes are enhanced with the greatness of my Lady’s magic. NO matter how hard you try to struggle, there is NO escape.”
“You are no fairer than she is, nor you are NEVER her.”
Imoen, angry and irritated, replied back. “Not so much for someone who can’t get that tin-head out, much less his own ass!”
“Ho! There is some spark in this one, no? I know she would ENJOY her gift. Just remember, you are never like my Lady.” With that said, he left the tent, leaving her to her own ends.
“Pfft, stupid son of mule’s ass. Sayin’ I’m no good at my Art? Oh he’ll see,” muttered Imoen as she was determined to free herself from these accursed bond and escape from this hive of scum, and in hopes of running into that “Tin-head” again so she throw a magic missile on her way.
No that won’t do; too easy. She’ll have to resort to bigger fireworks just to make he felt every inch of her agony.
Imoen concentrated on her magics to free herself from her bonds. While she felt every pull and force of the magic between the energies of her ability and of the bonds, she met heavy resistance. Every amount of attempt to push towards the force to end the enchantment pushed her away, giving the young mage a shock to her nerves. Imoen was sweating from all the heavy work she had to focus on but kept going onward. She had to be free.
Then she thought back to her magic teachings received from Father Dethryn. He had once stated about Magical Weaving theory and using it with applied forces. One of his lectured explained that although there is any magical resistance or force that was deemed impossible to bring down, there is always a way around it, a means of navigating through the tightened, woven magic to find that breaking point, as well as unweaving any weak links of the magics to lower the strength.
Imoen clamed herself down and started to feel the “weaves” of magic from the enchanted iron bonds. The magics were woven very tightly and almost flawlessly, however there were still tiny weak weavings from the outer wall of the core. She worked on whittling away bits by bits of the resistance, destroying weak links and carefull navigating without hitting anything strong enough to propel her back to the starting point. Imoen almost had a small respect and envy for whomever that conjured this type of magic. He or she was a powerful mage, and possibly more advanced than her. However Imoen won’t let this obstacle get in her way. Not the Great and Terrible Imoen nope! She was still the greatest at her stuff no matter who was more powerful or not. Working on reducing the opposing magic was a long and strenuous task and seemed to go on for hours. However, she was glad that there hadn’t been anyone that entered the prison, hindering her efforts and hard work. Finally, she had found the breaking point of the force and was about to destroy it. Suddenly, somebody finally entered the prison. Nevertheless, Imoen still maintained her control. The young mage cursed at her luck, for it was that same bandit who hungered for her flesh entering the prison with that same look again.
“My my my, a sow, all prepared and ready to eat,” the brigand taunted as well as showing of his flawless decay of teeth.
“Yeah, and this sow’s ready to kick yer ass!” Finally, with a forceful magical shove, she broke her bonds and released her power on him, knocking him out of the tent.
“Hey Bruno!” Imoen heard a voice as she rubbed her wrists to ease them from the strain of her bonds. “Something’s strange with the prisoner! Go check it out!”
However, Imoen was ready. When the brigand guards came in to investigate any matter inside the prison tent that resulted in one of their men being toasted to a crisp, they met only to be ambushed by Imoen’s powerful flame magics.
With a deep breath of pure satisfaction from her handiwork, Imoen readied herself and proceeded to wage her escape, including setting off little explosions on the way.
As she ran, the full wrath of Imoen’s talent was revealed. Already the bandits caught themselves taking full blows from her magics as she wrecked havoc on the fortifications, supplies, and armory. At least when she escaped, it would do best to ensure that her captors did not have anymore means to press on for her capture. Although there was only a small percentage of revenge, it was PURELY tactical reason. The young mage smiled at her justified actions and ran to the blasted opening of the stone wall.
It was an easy escape. Make the run for the forests, hide under leaves, and continue on for New Cloakwood.
However, before she could succeed, she knocked full force on her chest by something magical and was slammed down to the grasses. The only image she saw was that of a woman with an elaborate robe or gown as she quickly lost consciousness.
~~~~
When Imoen finally woke up from her unconscious state her image started to focus, it seemed to be chamber, with a lab in front of her and elaborate furniture as well as a bed, laden with silks. However, what she saw was shocked her beyond anything at all. She saw herself, yet with a terrible beauty, with a regal dress and radiating with immense magical power that it made some of the hairs of her head stand in the midst of such awe. Yet, she sported a cruel grin.
“Ah, the ‘weak’ one has awoken Fharadas, my dear. Isn’t this nice,” the regal duplicate smiled with an aura of assurance of her superiority over Imoen who was now naked with her legs chained down and her arms up to have her remain vertical.
“Dammit,” Imoen thought. She really hated to be continuously chained or tied, or whatever the heck reduced her to this, and plus she was naked and it was embarrassing. This was really annoying her.
“Let me go who… whoever you are! I’m warning you. I can really turn this place into rubble!”
“Look,” the replica mocked with a chuckle as rubbed the girl’s chin. “She still insists deluding herself that she holds more power here. Don’t you find this amusing my love?”
“Yes Lady Illinea, not even ‘she’ is powerful as you,” said Fharadas as he removed his helm only to reveal…
Locke’s face!
“Locke… is that you,” pleaded Imoen. She was not sure that she was dreaming but her eyes made no mistake. From his short rugged hair to his blue eyes, it was certainly Locke’s face.
“Locke, snap out of it! This isn’t funny,” Imoen called out as some sort of desperate attempt to shake off this current nightmare. Unfortunately, she only met with sharp pain as she was slapped from this Locke.
“Wench! Do not ever speak that accursed name! I am not he, never he shall be me!”
“Fharadas, hold yourself dear. Shall remind our false imposter her sinful thoughts as we make pleasure in hopes of giving her pain?”
“Yes my Lady; my thoughts exactly.”
Fharadas grinned as he kissed his ‘lover’ with the fiercing drive of lust. The image was disturbing to Imoen for she saw her own face; her own twisted avatar joining together with … this other Locke looked so real that she couldn’t bear to think anything else. All of her wanted to close her eyes from this twisted view of this sinful action. Although she tried with all her might to shut the window of her vision, she could not for there was some magic that continued to keep her eyes open. During the lovemaking, she could hear Illinea’s insults in her mind, mocking her and insulting her, describing every detail of her desires.
“I understand your… need for your brother. Yes… to be near with him… to just hold him,” taunted the sorceress as she held her lover as if she was inviting him to ravish her. As eager, Fharadas held her down and started to taste her flesh.
“Stop it! This is disgusting!”
“Oh you say that so when your desires say another! You hypocritical slut; so typical that you deny what is within you. You know what you want. Your brother all over you, penetrating you deepest, darkest desires, satiating your lust for him,” Illinea continued as she let her partner continue in ravaging her.
“No! It’s not true! I’m not listening! This is all shit!”
“You lie! You know you want it! Look at me and tell me this isn’t what you want, isn’t it?”
“N..No… Locke isn’t that way! He would never do this… I would never!”
“You lie,” Locke’s voice evilly declared inside her mind.
“Locke? What are you…”
“Silence incestuous whore! What ever happened to Locke dear? Your dear brother, the one who you rejected his declaration of love? Yes, I declared it because I know you like the feel of me inside of you. You are no different then I, only to reject because you deny yourself what you truly desire. You are so alike even though the Taint is gone, you still have the rage! Your desires are the truth! You want me! There’s no use denying what you blood boils for.”
“Shut up, shut up! He wouldn’t say that… he wouldn’t…”
“He would for Locke shall be mine,” said another voice which was now Illinea’s voice. “He doesn’t want a weakling like you, the one who rejected him when he declared his love.”
“He doesn’t want a betrayer.”
“You; betrayer.”
“SHUT UP! YOU’LL NEVER HAVE HIM,” yelled Imoen as her breaking point was reached. AS she said it, she was sobbing in results of the cruel digging of the truth. It didn’t help when she felt so dirty for her thoughts, the dreams of embracing her brother reduced down to the carnal lust so loving displayed by the display of the mating taken place in front of her with herself so denied.
“Locke…,” Imoen meekly called as if there was some hope in the name.
“Yes… say his name. Say his name. Oh Locke,” Illinea’s voice responded in a mocked cry of passion as she reached the climax.
Illinea, satisfied at both the sex and seeing the weak one cry and broken down to the very edge of the knife, she signaled for Fharadas that she was finished. Reluctantly, he exited out of the bed and rearmed himself in skilled quickness. He then gave a kiss to Imoen’s lips to further the insult.
“What is your wish now, milady,” huskily asked Illinea’s partner with great confidence after his favorite activity has passed.
“My wish is now for you to lay waste to New Cloakwood. Such trite town with no strategical value has no interest for me. We can always claim the mines for ourselves and let the slaves do the work. No one will be able to stop us now. The true heirs to the Throne will usher the Great Chaos.”
“And that I look forward to, with you at my side my Lady,” Fharadas heartily agreed as he opened the door. “Oh, and enjoy your gift.”
“Oh I will my dear. I will.”
With a smirk Fharadas wore his helmet and exited the chamber. After his exit, the sorceress approached Imoen with a lustful smile.
“Oh yes false one. We have a LOT to do.”