Hanging near the stairs by Linvin was a vast array of whips
and chains of varying length and thickness. A torture rack was prominently
displayed in the center of the floor. It was there Miri lay, chained and
stretched on all her limbs. Her clothing was tattered and bloodied by clear
markings of flogging. Her left eye had taken a powerful blow and was swollen
closed. Blood ran down her face and pooled on the table beneath her. So
saturated was the wood on the rack from previous victims the fluid would not
absorb. Thus, her hair so golden blond once before, had changed to blood red.
Linvin hugged the inside wall of the stairwell to stay out
of sight as he attempted to set aside his rage and locate his enemy. It was not
long before Hugon came into view wearing black linens. He bore an iron gauntlet
on his right hand covered with fresh blood from Miri. He had just pulled the
wheels at the top and bottom of the rack tighter. The act stretched his victim
further and pressed her back more firmly against spikes rising higher from the
board with every turn.
He stepped over to Miri and grasped her by the hair. “You
are stronger than I gave you credit for being. Many have begged for death by
now, yet you will tell me nothing.”
Miri spit blood out of her mouth and yelled, “I told you I
do not know any of the answers to your questions.”
Hugon wound up his arm and slammed the gauntlet into her
exposed side. “Ooooh,” he said in delight. “I know that one hurt. I heard a rib
crack. Why are you protecting Romadon so fiercely? Your armies have beaten us
every time we invaded. Nothing you could tell me would hurt their defenses that
much. There is no need for you to keep suffering. Tell me what I want to know
and I will end your life quickly. If you insist on testing my patience, I will
make what you have suffered so far feel like a holiday.”
“For the last time,” Miri yelled, “I know nothing about the
army. Do your worst and have this over with.” Hugon chuckled as he removed the
gauntlet. “You have just made my day better, Little Princess. First, I will use
the white-hot metal tongs from the pit to rip your nose from your face. Now
most people drown in their own blood but I hope you hold on. Then I will pull
every toe and finger off one at a time. If you live through that, I will raise
the spikes that now are only pricking you to a much more suitable height. Then
I will lower a stone block on top of the remainder of your body and let it push
the nails clean through your flesh. Once you are dead I will cut you into
pieces for delivery back to your father. This will be a treat.”
Hugon turned toward the hearth to fetch the blistering
tongs. A sudden crack was heard in the air and a long whip sliced though the
jailor’s shirt and dug deeply in a diagonal pattern across his back. He yelped
in pain and turned hurriedly. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Linvin
with whip in hand.
“I told you no one puts leather to me and lives,” Linvin
bellowed. “I will now fulfill that pledge.”
“Grithinshield?” Hugon said as he stepped closer. “You were
supposed to be dead by now.”
“That is quite ironic when you think about it,” Linvin said
as he stuck Hugon in the face with the whip. “Since it is now time for you to
die.”
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