XXIV. Soiartze

Sudden pain awoke the paladin. An orc guard had entered the cell and beaten him into consciousness, then left with a laugh. The cell door slammed shut. Edward could feel the severity of his wounds from the beating. He lay in a haze on the floor. The pekid feeling again came over him, and now he couldn’t shake it. He felt clumsy and muddle-headed, and weakness seemed to grow in him.

He was given food and water, foul as ever. He dozed for hours, until he heard the sound of keys and stomping feet. "Oh little paladin!" sneered Snurk. "Wake up, little paladin! It’s party time again!" In came the pale orc. Edward looked up at him, and a sudden recognition hit him. Snurk wasn’t merely a pale orc. He was an orc wight. Undead. So fitting, considering the surroundings . . . .

Edward’s stream of consciousness was interrupted as Snurk yanked him up from the floor. Guards unchained him from the wall and again bound his hands. Back up the corridor and stairs they dragged him, back into the shrine of Orcus, back to the same column where he had been chained previously. This time, someone was already chained next to his position on the column. Not the young girl from the previous ritual. A human woman from the looks of her, and . . . pregnant?! Edward gasped in horror.

The vile rite began as previously. This time, however, the acolytes’ number was greater by one. The shuffling form of a zombie accompanied them. Edward squinted in the torch-lit darkness of the temple. Something was vaguely familiar.

Shocked recognition: the zombie was the re-animated corpse of the ranger who had been slain during the previous rite! And another shock: this night’s victim, bound, gagged and struggling in the grasp of the acolytes, was the young girl who had been chained next to him!

Snurk snuck up behind him and jabbed him. "See anyone you know, hmmm?" the orcish wight gloated. "Oh, tonight should be even better fun than the last time. Little girls make everything so much more enjoyable, don’t you agree?" Now Snurk cracked a wooden rod over Edward’s head. "Eyes forward!" he shrieked. "And don’t make me remind you again, or you’ll wish you hadn’t!"

Forced to witness the unimaginable horror before him, weakened, dizzy, Edward struggled to maintain his own sanity. Tonight’s celebrant was not Eritlu. Instead, Edward recognized the disgusting, bloated form of Oconee. The foul priest seemed to prolong the torment of the victim even longer than Eritlu had done during the previous ceremony, basking in the terror and suffering of the young girl, as did the congregants, who hooted and cheered to her every scream. And Edward could do nothing to stop it.

The nalfeshnee appeared again. "Loyal servants of the goat prince, take this gift and use it well in your master’s service!" Another spell of some kind was conferred on Oconee and two favored congregants. The rite concluded with acts of depravity exceeding even those of the previous night’s.

Once it was over, Edward was again dragged back to his cell. Next day (if day it was), he fought the same pekid feeling, and felt even weaker and more cloudy-minded than before. Food and water didn’t help. After an unknown time in the darkness of the cell, the cycle of horror began anew: the beating, the chaining, the dragging into the shrine, the binding to the same column. The pregnant woman was gone, and Edward feared the worst for her. Now next to him, a young woman, beautiful, terrified. Snurk on his left, again leering, gloating and threatening. In came the procession of acolytes, now joined by a different zombie, which Edward again recognized with horror. Oconee, the hideous fat man, at the altar. The pregnant woman bound, gagged and secured to the altar. The ritual killing, different this time in that the victim was not gutted, but simply slain by throat-slashing and exsanguination. "May we be blessed with this sacrifice, and the birth of a special child!" cried Oconee. Shouts of "Half-ghoul!" and "Half-vampire!" came from the assembled congregants.

After it was over and Edward had been taken back to his cell, he heard footsteps coming to the cell door. It opened, and a figure was thrown into the cell. The door locked behind the form, now lying and moaning on the floor. He recognized the figure. It was the beautiful girl who had been chained next to him that very night!

Barely able to move, Edward managed to lay hands on himself, restoring a tiny portion of health to himself. The girl, shaking her head as if to clear her mind, rose from the floor and came over to Edward. She sat next to him with pleading eyes. "Is there any way to save ourselves from these, these horrors!" she cried. "Can you do anything?"

"I’m useless unless you can help heal me," answered Edward. "The guards, and especially Snurk, have worked me over to within an inch of my life. I can barely move."

The girl looked at him sympathetically. "I can’t heal you, but I can sing a song that might cheer us up. It might make you feel better." She held out her trembling hand. "I’m Soiartze," she introduced herself.

"Edward," responded the paladin. "A song couldn’t hurt, I guess. Please, sing."

Soiartze began to sing a song that Edward indeed found comforting, even fascinating. He was suddenly glad to have the girl in the cell with him, and wanted to rescue her from the evil clutches of the cultists of Orcus. Quickly, he formulated a plan.

"Call out to the guards, Soiartze," said Edward. "Tell them I’m having a seizure!" The girl did as instructed. The window in the cell door slid open and an orc guard looked in. He was unimpressed. "‘e’ll get over it," snarled the orc, as he slid the window shut again.

Edward paused to think. After several minutes, he told the girl, "OK, the seizure proved fatal. I’ll lay here as if I’m dead. You need to convince them."

"Oh, I can’t!" cried the girl. "I can’t do it, I can’t convince them! Please, don’t try that!"

But the paladin was adamant. He was going to pretend he was dead, or die trying.

Time passed, and eventually the cell door’s window slid open again. Eyes peered into the cell, and saw the inert form of Edward lying in a crumpled heap. Soiartze was crying over him.

The cell door flew open, and Snurk rushed in, all in a rage. "Tryin’ to fool us, eh? Well, this for you!" he screamed. He kicked at Edward with an iron-shod boot.

But before boot could strike body, Edward reached out and grabbed Snurk’s leg. Snurk cried out in sudden pain, then with a gasp fell to the cell floor. Edward had laid hands on the undead orc. Positive energy flowed from him into the undead flesh of the orcish wight. Snurk was dead!

Before Edward could take any further action, two ghoul guards burst into the cell. Immediately they seized the body of Snurk, then rushed back out, slammed the cell door and locked it. Edward sighed, unable to do anything to stop them. Soiartze, heartened by the killing of Snurk, wrapped her arms around Edward and kissed him joyfully.

Edward felt something other than joy: a sudden weakening of his vitality, one he could ill afford. He looked at the girl angrily. Something wasn’t right.

"You blew it, girl! Now you’ll be next, when they come back!" he snarled at the girl. Soiartze withdrew from him, cowering in the corner of the cell as far from him as she could get. She had a hurt expression, but something else was behind her eyes, as if she were somehow insulted as well.

Soon, as Edward had predicted, more guards came back to the cell. They grabbed Soiartze and dragged her out, then slammed and locked the door again. Edward collapsed, exhausted and at his wit’s end.

He awoke in the dark, as usual. He was able to lay hands on himself again, healing himself considerably more than he had been able to do the night before. But the pekid feeling was with him again, and he felt even more muddle-headed and weak than ever. Food and water did little to help. And after what felt like another day, guards entered the cell, unlocked his chains, and dragged him out of the cell and down the corridor to the right. The hallway led into a dark, very large, rectangular room, filled with . . . implements of torture!

The guards quickly chained him to a wall, his arms high above his head, his feet barely touching the floor. While one guard proceeded to pummel Edward with a wooden rod, the other stoked a flaming brazier, and began to heat a sharply pointed branding iron.

The beating ceased. Edward heard footsteps entering into the room. He looked up, and saw a hooded and caped figure. The figure drew the hood down, and Edward started. He knew that figure.

Soiartze.