Chapter 4

Rudely stripped of any scrolls or talismans that might help them escape magically, the captives had to listen to Tomas lecture them about spells.

"Kija has made the area around the Palace resistant to gateway and return spells," he blustered, leading the group through the capitol city. "The only gates that work are the Prince's own. You are all here to stay."

In the entrance of the Palace, a dimly glowing portal awaited. Stepping through this, the group found themselves in total darkness.

Nearly total, anyway, as there were shallow braziers set up casting a faint red light, revealing a massive cavern split by an arching bridge. The gate was separated from the bridge by a flat walkway.

"Clever, no?" Tomas bragged. "This is a drawbridge. Raise this and nothing can get in or out without Kija's permission."

The trio was led over the bridge to a large cavern mouth carved from the rock. Lining the way were dozens of guards, standing mutely watching the procession with wide eyes.

"Another of Kija's pets," Tomas explained. "The guards are not quite human. They are so well adapted to life in these caves that they see in the dark. As they live off what they find in the cave, Kija doesn't spend much on their upkeep. Though I believe he encourages prisoners to try and escape just so they get some variety in their diets."

Eventually the tunnel opened into another cavern, this one much better lit, with torches on all the walls. The middle of the floor was a bloodstained arena, recently used if the workers' sweeping up reddened sand was any indication.

"Excellent! More guests!" A tall handsome man in Mage's robes called merrily from the throne set against the opposite wall. "Be welcome for however long it takes before you die!"

Gareth ignored the cackling madman, his eyes drawn to the figures next to the throne. Standing behind a small round table was a tall beautiful woman dressed uncharacteristically all in black. Next to her, equally still, was Pyran, not looking at all well. He too had dyed his Nagnang robe black.

"Pteri," Gareth whispered not expecting a response. He got none.

"I see you have noticed my most trusted helper!" Kija laughed, bowing slightly towards the two. For a second, something glittered white on his chest.

"The biggest drawback I found using my Dagger was that I had to keep concentrating on the changes I wanted. If I stopped, they slowly went back to the way they were. Very disappointing. So, using the power of the Dagger I created a charm powerful enough to enslave the one Mage in the kingdom with experience controlling these devices."

Gareth studied the table in front of Pteri. A slender dagger with a silver blade and black hilt was balanced on its tip in the center of the table. Pteri never took her eyes off it, her hands poised on either side as if to catch it.

"Yes I know all about the events from those missing fifteen Yuri," Kija smiled evilly, "With the Dagger in your hands you can learn almost anything. All I had to ask was 'who could help' and how and suddenly I knew."

"But how?" Wildhair asked, watching her still white-faced Mage friend visibly strain to control the Dagger. "And why?"

"Why is easy enough," Hanna answered calmly. "He is insane."

Kija laughed, not his demented cackle, but a good-natured belly laugh. "I prefer megalomaniac."

Gareth looked at Pyran where he stood unsteadily next to Pteri. "What's wrong with Pyran?" Gareth asked, trying to estimate how long it would take to cross the arena floor and kill Kija with his bare hands.

"Him? Nothing," Kija shrugged. "From time to time I can feel Pteri struggling harder against her restraints and I have him beaten just a bit. Beaten in front of her works best."

"Speaking of which... Tomas, call our two favorite court lackeys."

Nothing happened. Everyone looked around, but Tomas had left.

"Tomas!" Kija shouted, and the room shook with the thunder of his voice.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Tomas stepped back into the room, holding a bloody knife. "Did you need me?"

"Tomas, off having some fun?" Kija smiled dangerously.

"Hardly, You Majesty." Tomas answered. "It was reported to me that the old lady we captured had disappeared. One of her guards turned up unconscious and the other is missing. I was 'questioning' the guard we had. Before he expired he managed to convince me that he didn't know what happened."

"One old lady is hardly a threat, Tomas," Kija chided the Ninja. "Please have the Court Torturer and Executioner return to me."

"But, Sire," Tomas said, pointing towards a pair of black cowled figures standing against the far wall near Kija, "They are right there at their posts."

Kija glanced to his left and stared briefly at the two, then yelled, face reddening, "I know that, of course, you fool! I meant instruct them to begin on Gareth." He added gleefully, "I finally get to hear him scream."

The two black-cowled figures dragged Gareth towards a sturdy chain-wrapped post in the center of the arena. They secured him tightly then withdrew a few paces.

"You may begin," Kija sat back on his throne and poured himself a glass of wine.

The Torturer's hand began to glow a sickly green color, slowly brightening into balls of green dripping ichor.

"Very creative," Kija praised his Torturer as Gareth's body began to resonate with the pulsing of the balls of foul light.

Gareth felt his vitality draining away as the venomous magic attacked him. The green ichor ate away at him like acid.

"I guess you must still blame me for those termites," he said in a strained voice, smiling at the mad Prince. "I did tell you to repeat my treatment as necessary. Can't blame me if you are too stupid to follow your exterminator's instructions."

Kija growled, "Too much chatter. Make him scream."

Small rattling sounds came from behind Hanna as the powerful Do tested her chains to no avail.

"Gareth!" Wildhair called out. "Don't anger him. Just stay quiet."

The Torturer, at Kija's signal, cast a ball of fire at Gareth. The magical fire rolled around the brave warrior, burning every inch of his body, especially his hands, although it cause a lot more pain than actual damage.

Gareth figured it was to make the event last longer. He chuckled resolutely.

"Finding this funny?" Kija sprang to his feet, dashing his goblet against the wall angrily.

"Actually," Gareth replied calmly, although through clenched teeth, "I was thinking how nicely your eyebrows have grown back. You can hardly even see the scarring."

Kija roared in anger and grabbed a shining white sword from a display next to the throne, charged at Gareth. At the last moment he held himself back from plunging the blade through Gareth's throat.

"No, it can't end like that," he said fairly calmly. "You are angering me intentionally, so somehow you think it is better if I kill you. Perhaps you think that would break my hold on your wife or that annoyance Pyran. I really don't care. Your torture shall continue."

As Kija stood holding the beautiful white blade to Gareth's throat, the warrior finally got a good look at the object glinting from a fine chain on Kija's neck.

"Pteri's wedding ring," he sighed. "So that was your conjured charm."

"And the reason you could not invoke your own ring to approach her magically." Kija chuckled, drawing the point of the shiny sword along the acid blackened skin of Gareth's exposed neck. The helpless warrior followed the white blade as it left small cuts in his skin.

"I see you have noticed my blade," Kija held the shining sword upwards. A well-balanced long sword, made from highly polished steel, it almost glowed with infused magic. Flawless and all shiny, white from tip to pommel nut, except for a few red droplets racing each other to the hilt. "Marvelous, isn't it? It the best thing I thing I have done with the Dagger, even better than capturing your wife. I patterned it off the Do blade, as you have guessed, but in every way it is much better. Anyone can use it, not just those few Do sworn not to misuse any weapon."

He made a few clumsy wild hacks in the air around the arena.

Gareth watched Master Hanna visibly wince as Kija smacked into a wooden armor rack.

The Prince also seemed to notice.

"Master Hanna," he oriented on the chained Do, his eyes shining like a beast with madness. "I do believe I have come up with the second part of tonight's entertainment, and if the prospect of your own death doesn't disturb you, Gareth, perhaps the deaths of those you call your friends will."

Kija strutted back to the center of the arena and crudely thrust the white sword into sand. "Tomas!" he shouted, "Where is the lady's sword?"

After a few seconds, the Master Ninja carried a wrapped bundle down to his Prince and exposed a blue silk wrapped hilt.

"Only she can use this, Your Highness," Tomas explained, but Kija arrogantly grasped the blue hilt and attempted to draw it. A frown crossed his face, and then flamed into anger. He thrust the scabbarded weapon into the sand next to the glowing white blade.