The Sorcerer's Vengeance: Book 4 of the Sorcerer's Path (15 page)

The petite, raven-haired woman cursed unintelligibly through the rolled cloth that gagged her. Zagrat liked to hear the screams of his subjects, but this woman’s ranting and caterwauling contained no fear or pleasant sobs for mercy, only an unending string of profanity and promises of the horrible things she would do to him if she ever got free. He eventually became tired of hearing it and gagged her.

“I have something very special in mind for you, my dear. Your light, sleek, muscular body simply cries out for one of my special modifications. You will be my finest creation yet, except for Grogan of course.”

Hati tried to shriek another curse at the pointy-eared, pug-nosed scrawny hobgoblin but it came out as just another unintelligible gurgle. She satisfied herself with the rudest one-handed gestures she knew—and she knew several. Being half Eislander and half Thule living among the rather intolerant, larger, and fairer people, she learned quickly how to defend herself, verbally as well as physically. She was short, especially next to the gargantuan Eislanders, but she was quick and strong. Many of the big blond girls had learned the hard way that despite her small size, she fought like a demon and would win by any means possible. That also made her rather unpopular among the so-called honorable fighting people.

“Grogan, we need the young female chained to the ceiling and floor, please make it so.”

Hati renewed her ineffectual screaming. The stupid hobbi thought she was not afraid. She was in fact terrified, but her fiery spirit would never let the shaman know that. The moment the golem unpinned her shackles she lashed out, scratching and gouging the animated blob of flesh and bone with her nails, going for the eyes and face. She may as well have been scratching at the stone walls of the cavern. Her attacks did not even raise so much as a red welt on the creature’s pink skin.

It handled her with the ease of an infant, picking her up, and holding her upright with one huge and incredibly powerful hand while reattaching the iron shackles that dangled from the ceiling. It then carefully attached her leg irons to iron rings secured to the stone floor. The golem frightened her despite the fact that it was always gentle in her handling, but that was because the shaman never told it to harm her. It would, on command, rip her arms off with the same emotionless detachment with which it gently strung her up.

It was the fact that she knew that she could never harm it that was most infuriating. The hobbi was the master and a powerful user of magic despite his obvious insanity, but Hati knew if she could ever get her hands free and get close enough to use them, she could choke the life out of the ugly, sadistic freak.

Zagrat turned a wheel mounted to a pulley and pulled the chains tight. The increased tension forced her arms over her head but at least her feet remained mostly in contact with the ground. Then the hobgoblin turned the wheel further and she was lifted off the ground, tightly strung up like a hide ready for scraping. Her arms felt as if they were being stretched from their sockets and it was hard to breathe.

“Bring in the donor subject, Grogan,” the hobgoblin commanded.

The golem walked silently from the room and returned a minute later with an enormous bird in his arms. Its wings and taloned feet were securely bound and a cloth sack covered its head. Hati knew that it must be a dire hawk given its size and the russet body and wings trimmed in bright red flight feathers.

Hati felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what they were going to do to such a magnificent creature. Eagles, hawks, and falcons had long been her most favored of totems. She often prayed that she could transform into one of powerful raptors so that she could fly away and leave everyone that had ever been cruel to her far below, maybe giving them a few deep scratches before she flew off.

It was then she realized the significance of the bird’s presence.
Oh gods, be careful what you wish for. Not like this, not like this, I never wanted it like this!
She screamed in her mind as the golem bound the enormous hawk to one of the stone slabs.

She closed her eyes and tried to block out the ear-piercing shrieks of the doomed dire hawk as the room filled with the smell of fresh blood. The animal’s agonized cries seemed to go on forever despite only a few minutes passing.

Hati opened her eyes when the hawk finally fell silent. She saw its motionless, blood-soaked, feathered body on the table but she could no longer see Zagrat. Then she felt the knife cut deeply into her back. The giant raptor’s screams seemed like an eye blink compared to how long hers went on. She screamed until her throat was so raw she tasted blood. Once the carving of her flesh finally stopped, she felt tugging and pressure followed by a sharp instrument, like a needle the size of an awl, being jabbed through her skin over and over again.

The suturing finally stopped and Hati hung from the chains sobbing in agony, fear and disgust. She had never felt so violated. Not even when one of the young warriors of her village nearly succeeded in forcing himself on her did she feel this much shame and loathing. She felt the hobbi wrapping some sort of wet poultice around the incision sites on her back then a tingling as he chanted strange guttural words of magic.

She thought she could never feel any more violated but the foul taint of magic being used on her was more than she could bear. Her defiance failed, her spirit shattered as she hung there, sobbing and praying for death. Hati realized that the shaman was now standing before her. She looked up at the vile necromancer without raising her head. She saw that his apron was covered in blood. A long, razor-sharp blade gripped in his right hand was equally painted red.

“You are so beautiful for a human. Now I shall make you magnificent!” Zagrat cried as he pressed the giant scalpel against her breast.

Hati thought she was beyond the ability to utter another scream, but her body managed to surprise her. Fortunately, this time she passed out before the hobbi was even halfway finished.

Hati woke in a cell covered with fresh straw. In the corner was what passed for a clean jug of water. Her throat was raw and her craving for a drink was undeniable. She crawled across the floor, expecting the chains to draw her up short where she could only look at the water with longing but then realized there were no chains attached to the manacles. Hati scrabbled forward even faster and grabbed at the jug as if she feared it would somehow run from her or simply disappear like a mirage.

She almost dropped the vessel. Her bandaged fingers felt strange and did not want to cooperate. Hati managed to gain control over the jug before more than half of the water sloshed out. She carefully lifted the container to her mouth and drank deeply, spilling a heavy rivulet of water down her neck and aching chest. Her chest. What had the monster done to her? She set the pitcher of water down, nearly empty, and began looking at herself.

Hati had always been slim and flat-chested, yet another source of torment from the buxom Eislander women, but now her chest was big, really big but not like a woman’s. It was more like a man’s, a very muscular man’s except that the cleft between the pectoral muscles was not as pronounced. There was still a hint of femininity to them but no one would mistake them for being anything other than very abnormal. A bulky shirt should make her look fairly normal. It was not like the men were knocking down doors to see her chest before.

Her fingers were all bandaged but she immediately saw that they were considerably longer than they had been. Hati knew it was probably a bad idea, but fear and rage shoved caution into the corner of her mind and she began unwinding the rune-scribbled cloth. She wept as she looked at what were once her slender, dexterous fingers. Every one of her fingers had been snipped off as if they had been pruned like undesirable branches on a tree. They were half again as long as they once were and the last two-thirds of them were the toes and talons of the dire hawk.

Hati buried her face in her hands, nearly gouging her eye out with a talon. She took a deep, shuddering breath and steadied herself.

Get a hold of yourself, girl!
Hati reprimanded herself.

She forced herself to be calm, as much as possible under the circumstances. She felt a weight tugging on her back near her shoulder blades. She gently flexed the aching muscles of her back. The muscles felt larger and stronger than they had been despite the soreness, much like her chest. She gaped in wonder at the enormous wings that spread out to each side. They must span well over twelve-feet. They were so long she could not even fully extend them in the small cell.

Hati the bird woman wondered if she could really fly or if these things were simply decorative to satisfy the bizarre tastes of the shaman. They certainly looked big enough, and although her muscles were sore beyond description, she felt strong, really strong. So, she had been turned into some kind of bird. It was not the worst thing Zagrat could have done to her. She had seen the worst he could do, or so she hoped and shuddered at the memories.

Why do I still have control of my mind?

The minds of all the ragmen she had seen before had been destroyed. Even the ones that were brought in alive and not turned into brainless zombies were stark raving mad. They hated all creatures that were not defiled as they were. Only Zagrat’s power over them kept them from running rampant across the countryside, killing every living thing in their path.

As if summoned to answer her questions, the hobgoblin shaman stepped through the door. Before he had taken a single step, Hati lunged at him, her new talons ready to rend the flesh from his bones.

Zagrat’s eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second before he barked, “Stop!”

 Every one of Hati’s muscles seemed to lock at once. Only an amazing sense of balance saved her from toppling over onto her face from the sudden halt in her forward momentum.

“That’s a good girl. As you can see, you cannot hurt me. You are forbidden to harm me or allow me to be harmed. Do you understand?”

Hati’s mind raged in defiance but the only thing she could say was “Yes, master.”

The thought that she had suffered the worst violation possible was proven to be a premature judgment. The vile shaman had stolen her mind, or at least her will, and that was by far the worst thing she had ever felt. She could think what she liked but she knew in her heart she would follow Zagrat’s instructions to the letter and it made her sick.

“You have seen much of what I have gifted you with, but the most impressive is within you,” the shaman continued. “Not only have I given you wings to let you fly and muscles strong enough to power them, I have also given you the great bird’s own heart.”

Hati could not believe what she was hearing but instinctually she knew it to be true. Her blood burned hotter and her heart was beating twice as fast as normal even without being exerted. She had attributed those factors to the surgery and the stress that ran through her but now she knew that it was normal—now it was normal.

“Yes, you feel it don’t you? You needed that heart to fuel those powerful muscles. Even my magic was not enough to do everything though it has helped greatly. I thought of adding the hawk’s tail feathers, you would need them for proper control, but I decided to use my magic to aid you in that for modesty’s sake. It would be quite hard to wear clothing with the feathers protruding like that. Besides, it did not match the symmetry of the artistic picture I envisioned in my mind.”

“Why did you not make me insane or mindless like the other abominations?” asked Hati, her voice full of scorn.

“A very simple answer, Hati. I need officers and officers must be able to think. A battle will be waged and very soon. You will be one of my generals, or a captain at the least. Your ability to spy upon our enemies from above will prove invaluable.”

“I will tear your heart out and eat it one day, shaman!”

“No doubt you will try, little bird, but you will fail. You cannot harm me nor allow another to do so. What you cannot see is the mark I have burned into your forehead, though you have doubtlessly seen it on the others. It is linked to a similar mark, a master’s mark, which is etched upon my own body. Even if you managed to succeed, what would you do then? Your people would kill you without question. Humans will see you only as a monstrosity, an abomination to be destroyed. You need only look at your own feelings of revulsion towards by beautiful children. So why go? Why destroy the only one who loves you, the only one who can ever love you? Here you are beautiful, perfect in your creator’s eyes.”

“Because you are evil. You will make me do evil things. I could never live with that knowledge,” Hati said, listening to the shamans words and believing them despite her mind’s refusal.

“Am I evil? Are my plans and those of my master truly evil? We accept you and the others without hesitation. Those we fight shun you; they shunned you even before your transformation did they not? We fight against the intolerance of those in power. Even my own people drove me away those many years ago because they did not understand me, said I was mad. Can a madman create such beauty, such perfection as I have created in you? No, he cannot. You are my vindication, Hati. Now rest, my little bird. It will take a few days before you are ready to test your new gifts.”

Zagrat left her in the small cell alone with her thoughts. She wanted to rail against his bittersweet words but so much of what he said made sense; at least that was what her mind kept telling her. She flexed her wings in and out as far as she could, loosening and stretching the muscles.

That night she dreamed of flying. She was soaring over the treetops, the wind racing past her face, the cold air exhilarating against her skin. Movement far below caught her keen vision and she dove to investigate. A rabbit, white against the exposed grey stone.

Hati folded her powerful wings closer into her body and dove at speeds far beyond the ability of the fastest horse to match. She unfurled her massive wingspan to its full glory just before striking the ground. She reached down and sank her talons into the prey’s soft fur and flesh.