Sabit’s eyes locked onto the needle-sharp point of her spear as Kehnan brandished it before her face. “Torture my body if it feeds your cruel heart, but my spirit will never submit to you!”
Kehnan smiled. “You are right, Mongoose. Your spirit is as strong as it ever has been in all the years I have known you.” He rested the cool iron spear-point on Sabit’s bottom lip. “I could flay the skin from your body until all that remained was a mass of flesh so badly butchered that it would turn a jackal’s stomach. And even with your last breath, you would defy me. That is your strength, Mongoose. That is what I must take from you.”
Keeping his eyes fixed on Sabit’s, Kehnan withdrew the spear and handed it to one of the attendants. “I have known you a long time, Mongoose, and I have never seen your spirit break. But I have seen it come close. When we were last together here, in Bahteel, you were as close to the breaking point as I have ever seen.* The weight of your travels and your failure to keep your companions safe had eaten into your spirit like rot in the trunk of a mighty tree. Your despair made you weak and foolish—foolish enough to trust me.”
“A mistake I shall never repeat,” Sabit growled. Behind Kehnan, she could see the cloaked figures placing her spear upright in some kind of metal stand. Regida huddled in the corner, as if she were trying to hide her shame within the shadows.
“That is what I thought when I came to you in the forest,” said Kehnan. “I thought I would need to convince you to forgive me for sending you away from Bahteel. Instead, I found that you had completely forgotten me! That was a shock, I will admit. But I found, that freed of your memories, your spirit was as resolute as it had ever been. Moreso, even, than when we were young. The bandit queen had a lofty high-mindedness that the young Sabit would have scoffed at. I was able to use it against you, to force you to spare my life, but it also means your spirit will not break as you are now.**”
“Then you waste your breath, Kehnan,” Sabit spat. “You should spend them with more care. I will make you choke on your last breath sooner than you think.” The cloaked figures began to chant softly around Sabit’s spear.
Kehnan’s scarred cheek lifted in a twisted smirk. “Not this time, Mongoose. For I have learned more about you than even you know. Your trusted Regida told me that you were reborn along the road. The stubborn, old witch Verdandi has just now yielded to my persuasion and told me more. She told the tale of the plant creature that captured you along the badlands road, and how you made its body into the shaft of your spear.*** When you scarred my face, your spear left a splinter of its wood in my flesh. When Regida removed it, for an instant, I remembered the sound of the cheering crowd in the Forum of Justice of Vert—the feel of sun, the smell of the blood-soaked sand. And yet, I have never been to Vert. I have never fought in the arena. But you have.****”
Sabit paused to consider Kehnan’s words. She had no memory of her life before the road. As bandit queen, she had looked toward a bright future, free of the fetters of the past. But Kehnan’s betrayal had burned that future to ashes.
What damage could he do with her past?
“I had my suspicions, and the wise men of Bahteel have confirmed them to be true. The memories of your past are locked inside the wood of your spear shaft, Mongoose. It is time to put them back inside of you, where they can leech the strength from your spirit until you submit to my will, just for the chance to forget.” Kehnan stepped aside to reveal the work of the cloaked figures. They had mounted Sabit’s spear upright, resting in a large bronze brazier. At the base, they had built a small fire around the spear-butt. Already, curls of strange red smoke rose from the brazier in patterns shaped by no earthly breeze.
“Your spear will smolder here until it is ash. The smoke will restore to you only the worst, most painful of your memories, Mongoose. When it is ash, I will return and see just how defiant your spirit remains.” The cloaked figures shuffled out, Regida lingering a moment. A tear glistened on her cheek before she turned and left the chamber.
“This fire will only inflame my hatred for you,” Sabit growled. But the acrid, cloying scent of the smoke already assailed her senses, sending her head swimming.
“Perhaps it will. But I think not, Mongoose.” He took a step toward the door and then stopped, drawing a deep breath—the red curls of smoke slithering across his face and crawling into his nostrils. “This bauble may have helped you against the plant prince, but you certainly don’t need it now,” he said as he snatched the silver necklace from Sabit’s throat. Wrapping the fine chain of silver stars around his own wrist, Kehnan walked out of the cell, barring the thick door behind.
The slam of the door faded quickly, leaving Sabit in the silence—the choking vapors of her past swirling around her, everywhere.
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Photo by Martins Krastins from Pexels https://www.pexels.com/photo/cave-with-hole-at-the-top-photo-826490/
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*Sabit’s meeting with Kehnan in Bahteel is told in Wayfarings of Sabit: Bazaar of Death http://ipressgames.com/tag/bazaar-of-death
**Sabit sparing Kehnan’s life is told in Wayfarings of Sabit: Betrayal http://ipressgames.com/tag/betrayal/
***Sabit’s ordeal along the road is told in Wayfarings of Sabit: Road of Woe http://ipressgames.com/tag/road-of-woe
****Sabit’s time as a champion of the arena of Vert is told in Wayfarings of Sabit: Broken Justice http://ipressgames.com/tag/broken-justice
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Wayfarings of Sabit: Agony is copyright (c) 2018 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every Thursday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller Find more sword and sorcery fiction at http://ipressgames.com/fiction/.