Famfrit's Jewel - Chapter 6
The Oubliette
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Dagnar strained against the iron cuffs on his wrists and ankles, the metal whined and rattled, the chains heaving at the bolts in the wall but the mortar held firm. Sweat streamed his face and chest from the effort, his muscles tensing in pain. He tried again. Blood dripped from his right wrist, muscles bulging and quaking with strength, yet the iron held him firm.
‘Such ferocity,’ Alaea bit her lip. ‘If only you didn’t have a rock for a brain, perhaps things would have turned out differently.’ She had bathed and changed into a sheer dress that caught and ruffled in the breeze from an opening door. She knelt at the half-door high on the wall, the pale skin of her legs tinted red by her dress. ‘Such a shame.’
‘Duty is not stupidity,’ Dagnar growled, all too aware of her honeyed words. He arched his head to see her alluring eyes and cascading hair but for all her beauty he felt only spite.
Alaea pouted, ‘Who’s the one in chains?’
‘Enough, Alaea,’ a man cawed from behind her. ‘A feast has been prepared, go, eat, and I will join you shortly.’
Alaea stood. Dagnar could only see the lower half of her legs, a man in close fitting garb and heavy boots appeared close to her. Alaea went on her tiptoes. ‘I cannot wait,’ she said, and left, her steps echoing down the hall.
Marazoth waited until the clack of Alaea’s shoes had vanished. He lowered himself to sit cross-legged at the trapdoor, ‘I had not intended for anyone to survive.’
Dagnar grunted and counted the rungs of iron that led out of his oubliette. He tugged once more with his right hand, blood trickled down his arm and hung in globes from his hair.
‘Man of few words I see, very well. Alaea was meant to kill you, I hope that much was plain, but by happenstance I discovered a peculiar quality to the crystal, to all the crystals in fact, that meant I needed you alive.’
‘Why me?’
Marazoth laughed, ‘Do not be flattered, there is nothing inherent in you. I could easily achieve my desires with anyone of your village, you just happen to be the last, a survivor by chance. Truly it must be the will of the gods for me to succeed.’
Dagnar wrenched himself against the chains, ‘And I will have my vengeance!’ the stone cell echoed his booming roar. The iron creaked.
Marazoth tutted, ‘I think not. On the full moon you will be sacrificed, your soul extracted, and Famfrit’s Jewel will bow to me, and me alone.’ The sorcerer guffawed, ‘Prepare for death, man of Kol, for none remain to remember you.’
Dagnar slumped in his chains, exhaustion washing over him. ’Why tell me? Just kill me and be done with it.’
Marazoth ceased his laughter and scowled down at Dagnar, ‘Because this is about righting past wrongs, this is about stealing the power of a god, such things require planning, the right circumstances, there is no rushing such things, not that you would understand!’ Spittle clawed its way down Marazoth’s chin, white bubbles gathered at the corners of his mouth.
‘If I find a rabbit in a trap alive, I wring its neck,’ Dagnar shrugged, the chains clinked. ‘Nothing more to it.’
‘And that is why you were a no name hunter living in the wilds and I am the true ruler of Ankoron,’ Marazoth thrashed his hands about, jabbing the air with a finger in Dagnar’s direction. ‘You are nothing but a fool, a fool who accepted Alaea’s word on face value, a fool who walked into an obvious trap.’
‘A fool who beat your apprentice,’ Dagnar quipped. He allowed his arms to hang in the iron shackles, his feet were held wide by shorter chains. The scent of blood and sweat heightened his sense, the darkness sharpened his sight, a fuzz of a mouse darted along the corner of his oubliette. If it came near him… no, he was not desperate, not yet.
Marazoth smoothed down a length of wild hair, tucking it behind one ear, ‘From your point of view. Asparion achieved what I wanted him to achieve, the men were mere collateral.’
‘As were my family and all I held dear?’ For the first time Dagnar felt sorrow alone, no rage or hate or fury, only sorrow, and then grief. He hung his head, forlorn.
‘Precisely,’ Marazoth grinned. ‘It really is quite simple, even you understand.’
Dagnar tensed his jaw. His fists clenched, and the rage returned. A flicker of hate in the pit of his stomach, he nursed his hate, urged it to grow, for it gave him direction, power. Marazoth would pay, the gods demanded, none more than Famfrit. Wrenching his right arm he felt iron dig into his flesh, the chain grew taut, and the bolt in wall wobbled. A minute movement but it moved, he had felt it.
Marazoth sighed, ‘Impudent rage, is that all you have? How droll.’
‘It’s all I need.’
The sorcerer stood and hmph’d, ‘I will leave you with it. Think of the feast I am about to enjoy, think of Alaea, at least, that way, your final days will have a modicum of pleasure.’ Marazoth stood and kicked the half-door shut. Dagnar was plunged into darkness. Three bolts sounded outside followed by the sorcerers soft footfalls.
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