Chapter 8

“Sabritha! Wake up,” Daynin pleaded. He shook her motionless body several times fearing the worst. “Sabritha!” Her skin felt cold to his touch. Daynin began to panic. He shook her violently without result. He pinched her arm and still there was no reaction. “God of life, if there be one, bring her back to me!” he begged.

He hesitated, then pulled the sheet back that covered her body. He placed his hand on her bare breast to feel for a heartbeat. Finding a faint rhythm, Daynin’s own heart jumped with joy. “She’s alive!” he cried out. He moved his hand slightly, noticing the nipples of her breasts had hardened from his touch. He jerked his hand away and quickly pulled the sheet back over her chest.

“Day—nin?”

“Yes, Sabritha. Can you hear me?”

“Wha-a-at happened?” she whispered quietly.

The boy hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain his distance. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Two paladins just brought me here from the dungeon. I-I thought—I was afraid you were—you weren’t moving or anything.”

“I feel so dizzy,” she whispered slowly. She tried to sit up, and in doing so, allowed the sheet to fall away from her body.

Daynin admired her female beauty but turned quickly, as if to hide his embarrassment for having noticed anything. “Sabritha, you—uhh—you don’t have—uhm—I guess they took your clothes,” he finally blurted out.

With that, Sabritha seemed to come fully awake. “No wonder I’m so cold,” she said, reaching for the sheet. “You can look now, if you want to.”

Daynin turned and smiled sheepishly, the blush still evident in his skin. He also adjusted his position on the bed in a vain attempt to hide the uncontrolled evidence of his desire. Sabritha smiled at Daynin’s obvious predicament. “You know, you don’t have to be ashamed of that. It’s natural. And for a woman, it’s very flattering to see a reaction like that from a man.”

The word “man” surprised and delighted Daynin. “Uhh, I uhh, I wonder where the others are?” he said evasively. “We should try to get out of here if we can.”

“Daynin, this place is too heavily guarded for us to go anywhere. Besides, what would you do if you could get out? We don’t even know where we are. At least we’ve got a fire. And each other.”

Those last words inflamed the passion in Daynin’s stomach. He could feel the warmth of his blood coursing to one spot in his body. The excitement of the urge seemed to push all the air from his lungs. His head began to spin from the lofty heights to which his dreams were taking him. He tried in vain to forestall the intense desires he had felt for Sabritha since that first sight of her at the inn. He looked into her eyes, images of her naked body completely obscuring his vision. Words would not come to him. The blinding heat in his brain had all but taken over his senses.

“Daynin?” she said. “Daynin!”

He could barely answer. “Uhh, w-what?” was all he could say.

“Where are you?” she whispered, seductively. She reached out and put her hand on his forearm.

He jerked it away as though it had been burned by a hot coal. Reality set in and again he blushed, the rush of blood to his face like that of a blacksmith’s bellows on a fire. He jumped up from the bed and took several blind steps backward. His heel caught a crack in the floor and down he went, falling hard on the cold flagstones.

Sabritha lunged to try and catch him, but too late. She leapt from the bed to his side, seemingly unmindful that she was completely naked. “Are you hurt?” she cried out.

Daynin’s eyes fixed on her chest as she leaned over him. Although stunned by the fall, he had hardly lost his senses or his urge. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, suddenly, when he reached out to touch her sides. The feel of her warm, soft flesh caused his lower half to convulse. He shuddered, pulling her down on top of him.

The taste of her lips was magic. One hand searched her body, feeling, touching, sensing with the ease of a practiced lover. The other sought the long black hair that covered her shoulders. Images of silk clouded Daynin’s mind while his hands explored her skin, now afire with a growing passion at least as great as his.

Sabritha explored where Daynin had never been touched before. Her body moved in a slow, rhythmic motion, making his whole being quiver with her every touch. She kissed him again, sensing the imminent release of passion he’d only known in his boyhood dreams.

“Make love to me, Daynin,” she whispered.

“But—Sabritha . . .” he could barely manage to say.

Sabritha kissed him again, then whispered, “We may die in this place, Daynin. Please. Give me one last taste of life.”

Daynin rolled over, bringing Sabritha under him. He tore at the laces of his tunic, maddened by the difficulty of the task. She pulled at the cord of his breeches, trying in vain to loosen the tight pants. Daynin swooped down to kiss on her chest, searching her body with his tongue, thence downward to her stomach. Suddenly, he stopped and pulled away abruptly.

Sabritha waited several long seconds before opening her eyes. He was staring back at her intently. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter with you?” she begged.

“I don’t know,” he answered, flatly. “There’s something—I don’t know . . .”

“Daynin, I want you. I want to be with you. Why do you hesitate?”

“I don’t know. There’s something wrong,” he repeated, a trembling alarm in his voice.

“If you want me, too, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But you’re not—the same,” he whispered.

“Is it because you’ve never been with a woman?”

“No—well—yes, but that’s not it. You’re different, somehow.”

Sabritha smiled and reached out for him. “Then you are a virgin, aren’t you?” she said, her voice suddenly deepening.

“Yes, but, but, you’re not Sabritha!” Daynin growled, recognition giving way to horror in his reply.

“Take him!” the voice from the courtyard boomed. Before Daynin’s unbelieving eyes, Sabritha’s image instantly changed to that of a shabbily attired, black-robed being whose long, bony face and hands appeared almost skeletal. Daynin realized it was the Seed just as two paladins stepped from the shadows of the room and grabbed his flailing arms.

“Bastard!” he screamed. “What have you done with Sabritha? Why have you done this to me?”

“A virgin proved by his own admission,” the Seed cackled aloud. With a sweeping motion of his arm, he ordered, “Take him to the Black Room and bind him there. This virgin’s blood will soon cleanse my Stone!”

* Blackgloom’s Lower Dungeon *

“There! We’ve got it!” Cale hollered. He pulled the knotted rope tight, making sure the bone at the end did not slip out of the bars where he had skillfully tossed it.

The Boozer slapped Cale on the back for the accuracy of his throw. “Quickly, now, Toobar, up the rope,” he said. “But beware of the ogrerats.”

The little man blew his Egyptian flute once more, just to be on the safe side. He scaled the knotted rope with the skill of an acrobat and quickly gained the catwalk. He dropped the rope ladder for the others, then left to search the passageway for paladins. His three companions in the pit made it to the catwalk without a word. The soldier was last to climb, still deathly afraid of whatever came next.

“What now?” Cale asked, having decided that cooperating with the Boozer was his only reasonable chance of escape.

“We must find the others before it’s too late,” the old man answered.

Toobar reappeared in the passageway. “Paladins—coming this way,” he said breathlessly.

“Against the wall, all of you,” the Boozer said, motioning for them to take station against the circular wall where the paladins would not see them.

As the dark specters entered the chamber, they each stopped at the edge of the pit, apparently confused by what they did not find. With one motion, Cale, Toobar and the Boozer shoved them from behind, sending them cascading into the pit. The paladins fell into a heap of clanking metal at the bottom and lay motionless.

The Boozer waved for the group to follow. “The Seed will soon realize what’s happened. Quickly! To the upper dungeon.”

“Who is this ‘Seed’?” Cale asked as they ran.

“The master of Blackgloom,” the Boozer answered. “He controls all but the ogrerats with his mind, so be careful you do not alert him to your presence. There’s the way to the upper dungeon,” he pointed out. “Go for the others. I must go this way. Escape if you can, but don’t come back. One more thing—the Seed is limited on how many of the paladins he can control at once.”

Cale grabbed Boozer’s tunic. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Where you cannot follow. The evil in this place is far greater than I can begin to tell you. Hurry now, we have little time and much to do if we’re to save the others.”

The trio worked their way up the spiral passageway, checking each cell as they went. At the top of the dungeon, another paladin stood silent sentry next to an arched portal. There was no way to approach him without being seen, and it looked like the only way out.

“Let’s rush him,” Toobar suggested.

“We may not have to,” Cale advised. He jerked an iron brad from his tunic and tossed it into the passageway. The paladin did not react. “Remember what the old man said? This one is not controlled.”

Cale approached the sentry cautiously, then reached out to take his halberd. The sentry stood motionless, allowing Cale to take the weapon. “Help me with this,” Cale ordered. Quickly, he donned the paladin’s empty suit of armor.

Cale led the way through the portal, unsure what he might find on the other side. The great circular room stood empty. Passageways led off in six directions. He motioned for the others to go in front, acting as prisoners being led from one area to another. Two of the passages contained nothing but more empty cells. When they entered the third, they heard the distinct sounds of a woman crying.

“Where’s it coming from?” Cale whispered. “I can’t tell in this bloody helmet.”

Just as they turned a corner, two paladins came straight for them, dragging a sobbing Sabritha in between. Cale froze in position to mimic his counterparts. Allowing the enemy to approach, he stepped in front of his two companions and delivered a crushing blow to the head of the left hand paladin, knocking its helm asunder. The other paladin dropped Sabritha’s arm just in time to ward off a similar blow from Cale’s halberd. The helmet-less body of the first paladin seemed to flail blindly at his attacker. Toobar grabbed for its sword, but was knocked flat from one swing of the paladin’s mailed fist. The Duke’s soldier turned to run, only to be speared by another paladin that appeared from behind them. Gutted, he fell without so much as a sound.

Sabritha screamed at the blood and gore splattering the passageway while Cale stunned the second paladin with a sharp blow to his helmet. He turned to face the new threat, but was knocked to his knees from behind by the headless paladin. Toobar recovered enough to reach for the legs of the headless paladin, felling him with a push. Cale looked up as the third paladin lunged toward him. He knew the battle might be over, for he hadn’t the strength to resist another attacker. He brought his arm up to block the blow, but the paladin seemed to just stop in place. In an instant, the others did the same.

“We’ve won!” Toobar whooped.

“No,” Cale answered. “Their master’s been distracted, somehow. Remember what the magician said? Let’s go while we can. This chance may not last very long.”