Something struck the side of Ythnel's faceNaeros's fist, she guessed. She hardly felt it. He let go of her hair, and her head fell once more. Naeros's boots moved away, and Ythnel could hear the echo of them crossing the stone floor then swiftly returning. Her head was jerked up again, and she found the glowing tip of a hot iron brand inches from her face.
"Let's play." Naeros's voice dripped with malevolence. He released Ythnel's head and slid around to her side. Ythnel heard the sizzle of the hot iron. The smell of burnt flesh soon followed. "I'm going to show you the meaning of pain," Naeros taunted. "You're blessed goddess could learn a thing or two from me. Don't be ashamed to cry, I won't think less of you."
Ythnel started to laugh, a soft, breathy chuckle. She couldn't feel a thing.
"What's so funny?" Naeros demanded. He snatched her by the hair and studied her face. Ythnel couldn't move her lips to speak, so she just kept laughing. "Stop that!" Naeros struck her in the face. Her head lolled to the side, free of Naeros's grasp. She could taste blood. She laughed again. Naeros stalked off for a moment. His return was accompanied by a squeaking like old, rusty wagon wheels. Again, Ythnel's head was raised, allowing her to see a wooden cart next to Naeros, laden with various blades.
"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but apparently I've acquired a nickname from the fair citizens of this great city. They call me 'the Marker.' Do you know why?" He considered the blades on the cart, finally choosing a knife with a jagged, twinch-long blade. "I suppose it's because I like to leave my guests with a little something to remember me by. Now all I have to do is decide what would be an appropriate symbol of our relationship.
"I know, since you won't cry for me, how about I just make you bleed where those tears should be." Naeros pressed the knife on the flesh just under Ythnel's right eye, near the bridge of her nose. "Now don't scream too loudly, or you'll mess up my concentration." Naeros drew the blade down the side of Ythnel's nose, ending at the edge of the nostril. Ythnel felt only a slight tugging. Naeros's brow furrowed in puzzlement. His lips pinched, and he made a second cut from the outer edge of Ythnel's eye, down her cheek, all the way to her jaw.
Ythnel began to laugh again.
"Impossible." Naeros's face flushed, and he began to tremble. With a bellow, he assailed Ythnel, pummel-ing her until her vision went black.
CHAPTER
Ythnel floated in a sea of endless black. There was no horizon, no edge to the blackness. It was all around her, enveloping her, insulating her. Beyond the blackness was pain. It pushed against the buffer, sought to puncture the blackness, to drain the sea away until she was left standing there naked and helpless. Ythnel wished it would go away. She was tired of pain. She was afraid of it.
Fear intensifies pain, Headmistress Yenael's voice echoed through the blackness. It creates anticipation, an expectation in the mind. Fear is a tool. Use it.
Ythnel ignored the words. Pain was beating harder against the barrier. She tried to bury herself deeper in the blackness. Her heart raced with fear.
Fear.
A handmaiden was not supposed to fear pain. Pain was the air she breathed, the lover she embraced. Pain was a thing to control, not fear. Fearing pain gave it control.
Slowly, Ythnel let the black fade away. Light appeared, grew, and brought with it pain. Ythnel opened her arms and welcomed it.
Calloused hands supported Ythnel and lifted her while other hands removed the manacles from around her wrists and ankles. Her right shoulder stung, and her face throbbed. Her left eye was swollen shut. Two lines of fire ran down her right cheek. Her feet touched the stone floor, but there was no strength in her legs. She sagged against the hands that held her and tried to focus on her surroundings. Her right eye fluttered open, and she saw two people standing before her.
"You walk a thin line,
"Let's play." Naeros's voice dripped with malevolence. He released Ythnel's head and slid around to her side. Ythnel heard the sizzle of the hot iron. The smell of burnt flesh soon followed. "I'm going to show you the meaning of pain," Naeros taunted. "You're blessed goddess could learn a thing or two from me. Don't be ashamed to cry, I won't think less of you."
Ythnel started to laugh, a soft, breathy chuckle. She couldn't feel a thing.
"What's so funny?" Naeros demanded. He snatched her by the hair and studied her face. Ythnel couldn't move her lips to speak, so she just kept laughing. "Stop that!" Naeros struck her in the face. Her head lolled to the side, free of Naeros's grasp. She could taste blood. She laughed again. Naeros stalked off for a moment. His return was accompanied by a squeaking like old, rusty wagon wheels. Again, Ythnel's head was raised, allowing her to see a wooden cart next to Naeros, laden with various blades.
"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but apparently I've acquired a nickname from the fair citizens of this great city. They call me 'the Marker.' Do you know why?" He considered the blades on the cart, finally choosing a knife with a jagged, twinch-long blade. "I suppose it's because I like to leave my guests with a little something to remember me by. Now all I have to do is decide what would be an appropriate symbol of our relationship.
"I know, since you won't cry for me, how about I just make you bleed where those tears should be." Naeros pressed the knife on the flesh just under Ythnel's right eye, near the bridge of her nose. "Now don't scream too loudly, or you'll mess up my concentration." Naeros drew the blade down the side of Ythnel's nose, ending at the edge of the nostril. Ythnel felt only a slight tugging. Naeros's brow furrowed in puzzlement. His lips pinched, and he made a second cut from the outer edge of Ythnel's eye, down her cheek, all the way to her jaw.
Ythnel began to laugh again.
"Impossible." Naeros's face flushed, and he began to tremble. With a bellow, he assailed Ythnel, pummel-ing her until her vision went black.
CHAPTER
Ythnel floated in a sea of endless black. There was no horizon, no edge to the blackness. It was all around her, enveloping her, insulating her. Beyond the blackness was pain. It pushed against the buffer, sought to puncture the blackness, to drain the sea away until she was left standing there naked and helpless. Ythnel wished it would go away. She was tired of pain. She was afraid of it.
Fear intensifies pain, Headmistress Yenael's voice echoed through the blackness. It creates anticipation, an expectation in the mind. Fear is a tool. Use it.
Ythnel ignored the words. Pain was beating harder against the barrier. She tried to bury herself deeper in the blackness. Her heart raced with fear.
Fear.
A handmaiden was not supposed to fear pain. Pain was the air she breathed, the lover she embraced. Pain was a thing to control, not fear. Fearing pain gave it control.
Slowly, Ythnel let the black fade away. Light appeared, grew, and brought with it pain. Ythnel opened her arms and welcomed it.
Calloused hands supported Ythnel and lifted her while other hands removed the manacles from around her wrists and ankles. Her right shoulder stung, and her face throbbed. Her left eye was swollen shut. Two lines of fire ran down her right cheek. Her feet touched the stone floor, but there was no strength in her legs. She sagged against the hands that held her and tried to focus on her surroundings. Her right eye fluttered open, and she saw two people standing before her.
"You walk a thin line,
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