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He itched to move, the sight of his love suffering tearing at his heart. He glanced at the necromancer unable to see how Shavar could remain so calm about the whole situation. Brandy took another step forward, pained golden eyes focusing on him immediately. He was certain Dravell didn’t want him to move but he couldn’t keep doing nothing.
“You shouldn’t do that, little angel,” Shavar commented blandly, “It’s a trap.”
“So?” Brandy glared at the cold grey-skinned freak, “We can’t leave him like that.”
“We can’t rush into anything either.”
There was a quiet creaking as Dravell’s feet shifted again, the wire cutting deeper. The slender immortal groaned softly in pain, sweat trickling down his pale skin. His muscles had been strained for far too long in the awkward position and his eyes squeezed shut as he appeared ready to faint. Brandy started to rush forward but the eyes reopened pleading him not to move. It was then something changed in their golden depths, resignation filling them. Dravell stepped from the wire just as Shavar recognised the trap.
“His blood!” the necromancer exclaimed, and Brandy finally realised that it wasn’t pooling on the floor as it should have but falling straight through.
“No!” Brandy cried out as Dravell’s body vanished under the illusion, the ropes which had held him snapping as he went. Brandy knew it was a trap, knew he would probably been doomed along with the man he loved but he didn’t even hesitate, diving smoothly into the portal after him.
Everything flashed dark for a second then he landed hard, smashing into the man he’d been trying to help. Once he recovered from the dizzying fall he shifted off the warm body beneath him, not liking the pained groan which left his love. The first thing he became aware of was the coldness of the floor and the air surrounding them. Second was the fact he could again use his magic. He summoned a small flame, lighting up the dank room they had fallen into. Dravell blinked dazedly in the light, lashes damp with tears. Moving quickly Brandy removed the punishing restraints, pulling the gag away last. Dravell gasped in several deep breaths before rolling slowly onto his back with a wince. Brandy reached for the brunette’s upper arm, grasping it tightly with one hand then placing his other on a pale shoulder to brace it. “I’m sorry,” he apologised gently before forcing Dravell’s arm back into place. He’d never fixed a dislocated joint before and hoped he did it correctly. For his part, Dravell lay still and quiet, his choked off breath the only sign of his pain. When both were back into place Brandy gave into the urge to hug the brunette close, never wanting to let go. Dravell didn’t return the embrace but Brandy didn’t blame him for that, the poor thing seemed utterly exhausted.
“Why did you do that?” Dravell croaked out tiredly, “I fell so you wouldn’t get trapped with me, young one. Why must you be so irritating?”
“Because I love you,” he answered easily, “I would rather die than live without you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Dravell commented as he finally got enough energy to push the redhead off and sit up. He glanced around the small room, relief lighting up his richly coloured eyes, “We are still in the mortals’ world.”
“Where did you think we’d be?” Brandy asked curiously, his fingers drifting to gingerly touch the reddened skin of Dravell’s throat. That pale column had never looked so slender and delicate. Equally slender fingers captured his loosely, pulling his questing fingers away with less strength than usual.
“My birth world,” Dravell answered with a shudder. In response Brandy pressed close, hugging his stressed love tight. They both jumped as cold laughter echoed around their small prison.
“Silly boy. How could I continue to play with you if I sent you back there?” Lada’s evil voice cut through the air, its source unclear. Her laughter continued for a short while before they were again left alone in silence.
The flame he’d summoned dimmed and vanished as Brandy lost his concentration, too busy holding the shivering demon close. He’d never seen Dravell so shaken, very shocked as the other immortal drew in a shaky breath, moisture tickling his skin where his love’s tears fell.
“Dravell? Love?”
“She’s very angry,” Dravell whispered fearfully as his shaking got a little worse. In response Brandy shifted so Dravell could lean more comfortably against him then started running his fingers through the frightened immortal’s silky hair.
“It’s ok, love.”
“No… you don’t understand. You have no idea what she is capable of.”
“It will be alright,” Brandy tried to keep his voice light, hoping to lessen the demon’s fear, if only a little. “If I could survive my father then-”
Dravell pulled back abruptly, golden eyes sparkling despite the darkness, “Your father was nothing compared to her.” Dravell gripped the redhead’s shoulders tightly, voice a panicked whisper, “He was feared in a world filled with peace and morals. Lada… she was feared in a world of chaos and death, you have no idea what she will do to us.”
“Oh come on, Lord Dravell, she’s not that bad.”
Brandy jumped in surprise at the blasé comment. A strange elf was standing by the door, a tray in one hand. He snapped his fingers and dim light filled their cell as the door closed. Brandy stood slowly as he studied the elf with a frown. This elf looked very much like an older version of Ebony. Yet his dear friend would never be a servant of the evil demoness as this elf surely was. “What do you want?” he asked as he eyed the elf and tray suspiciously.
“I’ve got some food for you both,” the elf smiled wryly, “You don’t want to get tortured with an empty stomach now do you?”
“What?” Brandy was bewildered, was the elf joking?
Dravell stood, moving smoothly between them, once again his composed and confident self, “What are you doing here, Jet? Surely she has more appropriate servants than you to feed us?”
“More appropriate, my lord?” the elf smiled before kneeling and putting the tray down, “Are you not glad to see me? And you, Brandy dear?” the elf glanced at the redhead, his form wavering to that of a pretty, curly-haired woman, “I thought we were becoming friends.”
“You!” Brandy gasped and stepped back from the woman he had helped and came to the realisation that he’d been tricked. Fooled by this elf.
“Yes, yes, I’m a horrible trickster,” the woman was gone again and the elf tossed Brandy a bread roll, “Eat that.” He then motioned to Dravell, “And you sit down so I can patch you up.”
“Why should we listen to you?” Brandy questioned hautily.
“Just do what he says, young one,” Dravell ordered tiredly before he sat in front of the elf. Jet carefully tended to the cuts on the soles of the demon’s feet and bandaged them up as skillfully as any healer.
“There you go, my lord,” Jet flashed Dravell a smile before offering him a roll. The demon took it absently, his golden eyes drifting to the elf’s neck for a moment, noticing the very faint marks of old bruising there. He touched his own neck in sympathy remembering something dark about his sister.
“She always did like to test her methods before the event,” he remarked quietly, knowing his asumption had been correct by the sudden tension in the elf’s eyes. “So tell me, Master Jet, what is in store for me next?”
Jet was tense and silent for a long moment. Brandy used the time to study both dark-haired beauties and try and figure out just what was going on. He had only just started working it out when Jet relaxed again, shrugging elegantly.
“Something I doubt you’ll find enjoyable, Lord Dravell,” the wry smile was back, “I didn’t find all of it entirely unpleasant but I’ve been told I’m a bit strange that way.”
Dravell’s golden gaze remained solomn, “Is she watching us now?”
The elf closed his eyes for a moment, “No. She is… eating. Typical.”
“Then we can talk freely, Jet. Just whose side are you on?” Dravell asked curtly.
“At the moment, yours,” he stood and glanced between the two prisoners, “There’s nothing I can do for you right now but I have a plan which I’m hoping will work or else we will all be a lot worse off.”
“You feel guilty for using your powers to trap us here,” Brandy stated. He knew exactly what was going on now. Knew just what it was like to be forced to hurt others to save yourself. He moved to the elf and put a comforting hand on his arm, “But you shouldn’t feel too badly, you couldn’t have held out forever.”
The stormy eyes looked at him sadly for a moment before the elf turned away and headed to the door, “Just try not to die before my plan is in action. That would be highly inconvenient.”
“Why should I have tried when I was certain of failure?” Shavar questioned darkly, “Besides it isn’t like you killed him, like you had any intention of doing so that quickly, Lady Lada.”
She smiled pleasantly, “You are more intelligent than I presumed you to be, Master Necromancer. You don’t really want a pathetic little immortal like my brother do you?”
Shavar thought for a moment, “His blood is very powerful and there are very few immortals in this world.”
Her smile broadened, “So it is power you really want? My pretty whore was dead right with that illusion. Do you think we should punish or reward him for that, dear necromancer?”
“You really think we are going to do anything?” Shavar asked coldly, red eyes narrowed.
“I can give you more power than you’ve ever dreamed of, Lord Shavar. You could be the most powerful member of the Brotherhood who has ever lived.”
“And you think that is what I desire the most?”
“You said yourself that you want him only for his blood.”
“I also happen to love him,” Shavar admitted as he picked up an apple, tossing it absently.
“Really?” Lada was less than convinced, “And just how much is your love for him worth?”
Shavar thought about this for a long moment. He then spoke carefully, “Your mage, the one who created that illusion so perfectly. I want him to be a sacrifice in that ceremony but a real one this time. I want his soul,” Shavar smiled at the thought, “And I want the little angel’s blood, all of it. After that I want a stock of your power. That is what my love for your lovely brother is worth.”
Lada thought her face would split from joy, “That does seem reasonable, my dear necromancer.” She then snapped her fingers, summoning a servant, “Fetch Master Jet, he is needed to entertain us.”
“You’d best give him what he wants, pretty whore, otherwise he’ll hurt you worse than I did. He is a Master in the Brotherhood after all.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Jet whispered anxiously, trying to free his wrists from the necromancer’s unyeilding grip. After a moment he gave up and offered Shavar a soft, sensual smile, “I can make it worth your while if you side with me instead.”
“I can hear you, Master Jet,” Lada commented with annoyance, stroking her wine glass. “Why would he want to side with you, my dear? All you can offer is a lifetime of ultimate sexual pleasure. Which would be enough to make me stay on your side if it wasn’t your lifetime we were talking about.”
“A mortal lifetime,” Shavar mulled this over, letting his fingers trail over the pale skin before him. There was something very enticing about this elegant elf with grey-streaked hair. Jet didn’t try to hide his age merely let it show his experience and fortitude. He smiled as he pulled the whore close, “But I’m mortal also and an elven lifespan is longer than a human one. How old are you, lovely creature? How much longer do you think you could live to pleasure me?”
“Long enough,” the elven whore purred, skilled lips seeking the neromancer’s skin, “I have another century at least to give, Lord Shavar. For that time I can give you whatever you want.” Nimble fingers broke their way free, trailing down the necromancer’s cold chest, “Anything, Lord Shavar. I can let you experience anything you desire, anything at all.”
“That’s right, dear necromancer,” Lada put in with a satisfied look, “But what you really want from him is his soul, so just take it from him already. I’m getting bored with these games.”
Shavar let his breath out with an annoyed huff, “I can’t take his soul without my ceremonial dagger.”
Jet smiled, leaning forward to kiss the necromancer’s neck, “You don’t need a dagger, my lord.”
After that the elf very quickly found himself knocked solidly to the floor. He lay still and weary as Shavar stood menecingly, red eyes furious, “Where is my dagger!”
“That would be here,” a voice from nowhere spoke, startling them all.
Given the warning just in time Lada saw through the illusion at the moment Nyrish stabbed the blade towards her heart. With effortless power she sent him flying before the blade could touch her. When she was no longer in immediate danger she struggled angrily to her feet, “How the hell did you get free?” She advanced on the blond and snatched the blade from his weakened fingers, “Did someone help you?” Nyrish glanced inadvertently at the elven mage, confirming the obvious betrayer. Though she supposed he wasn’t really betraying her since she’d already promised his soul to the necromancer. She tossed the blade to her new ally finding it amusing how these pathetic creatures still kept trying to destroy her. As if it was so easy.
She watched with a smile as the necromancer advanced on the cowering mage. Jet tried desperately to scrabble away but Shavar was quicker. With inhuman strength he grabbed the elf around the neck with one powerful hand and hauled him off the ground to hang helplessly. Jet struggled to pull the hand away as he slowly choked. Though the silly elf needn’t have worried about dying by strangulation.
Lada chuckled with dark pleasure as the knife went cleanly into the whore’s heart. It held still for a moment before Shavar whispered the words of the death chant and started removing the icy blade. It was at that point Lada’s vision wavered and she choked on a mouthful of her own blood. The room shifted and as Shavar spoke the last word and stole her soul she realised just how badly she’d been fooled. The darkness descended to claim her but she would get one last bit of revenge. With all the strength left in her she sent out death, determined not to perish alone.
Ebony and Jet embraced warmly, the hug full of forgiveness and acceptance. Ebony had found his favourite relative and no one would force them apart again. Later that year they would travel to Ebony’s parents’ home and Ebony would discover it hadn’t been money at all which had kept his grandfather away. In fact his parents’ entire fortune had come from Jet’s dubious profession. Ebony’s grandmother had spent her vast enheritance on gambling, wine and whores, which was how she’d met Jet. They’d kept the secret from respectable society until Ebony had left to train as a healer. It was then his parent’s had warned his grandfather not to see him else they would tell Ebony the truth. Now that Ebony knew the truth there was no reason for them to be apart, which was good because the young elf would need his grandfather’s love and attention to pull from his grief-ridden state.
Nyrish gave the two elves one last smile before Lada’s parting gift stopped his heart.
And that was the end to the Vali’s Captain.
