Void's Tale by Christopher Nuttall (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

make the collar impossible to remove, save perhaps by her owner.  I could feel them trying to force me to remove my hand, then order her to fight me off and then - finally - tighten the collar and crush her throat.  My spell made them impossible and yet ... I could feel her fear as my magic clashed with the collar’s, steadily prising it open.  The spells failed, an instant before it was too late.  The pieces dropped to the ground.  Mistress Layla followed them the moment I released the spell on her.

“I ...”  She started to cry, great heaving sobs that echoed on the air.  “I ...”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told her.  It was true.  I’d heard of a great many perversions over the years, but I’d never heard of anyone putting a slave collar on willingly.  She’d been a puppet.  She hadn’t had the slightest hope of resistance.  “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

She shuddered.  Comforting people wasn’t my forte, but I had to try.  I squeezed her shoulder lightly.  She shuddered, one hand twitching as if she wanted to push me away but didn’t quite dare.  I stepped back, looking around the room as I heard a sound.  There was a cage in the rear, occupied by a young girl.  She couldn’t be more than a year older than Gabby.  I stared at her, too numb to feel much of anything.  Why was she in the cage?

I met the girl’s eyes.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Eleanor,” the girl said.  “Are you here to rescue us?”

“Yes.”  I inspected the cage.  There was nothing magical about it.  The girl herself had magical potential, but she was too young to develop magic properly.  She didn’t seem to be a werewolf or another demihuman.  “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” the girl said.  “One night, I was in my bed; the next, I was here.”

“They were searching for people with magic, people they could take without being noticed,” Mistress Layla said.  She sat on the floor, head bowed.  I took the opportunity to sweep my senses over her.  Her magic was drained, but it should recover in time.  There were no obvious physical injuries.  She’d been a slave.  There’d been no point in hitting or kicking the poor woman to make her work harder.  She couldn’t have done anything, save for following orders.  “They took her by mistake, apparently.  They put her in the cage to wait.”

I studied the girl for a long moment, then opened the cage.  She sprang out and gave me a hug, then drew back.  I thought I remembered the name, from Master Clawthorne’s list of kidnap victims.  A child who’d been unwillingly fostered by a distant relative ... too distant, apparently, to give much of a damn about her.  Bastard.  I felt a flash of pure hatred.  In a properly run world, there would be someone to look after the orphans and make sure they found a proper home.

“I was sent to find you,” I said.  “What’s been happening here?”

“They took me a few weeks ago,” Mistress Layla said.  She didn’t sound any stronger.  I feared the remnants of the collar might still be affecting her.  “They broke through my defences, somehow.  They must have done.  I woke up with” - her hand touched her neck - “the collar around my throat.  They ordered me around until they were sure of their control, then took me back to the shop and told me to pack everything I needed.  I was going to work for them.”

I nodded.  I’d wondered if Mistress Layla had packed up herself.  It explained why so many things had been left behind, if she’d been ordered to take only what she needed.  The potion ingredients had been expensive ... I smiled, despite myself.  There’d been a clue there.  It was just a shame that I’d missed it.

Mistress Layla swallowed.  “Since then, I’ve been brewing blood-based enhancement potions,” she said.  Her hands were shaking.  “They didn’t give me a choice.  They told me to do it and I did it.  I took the blood from the kidnapped sorcerers and ...”

I swore.  Blood-based potions were dangerous.  Enhancement potions ... I frowned as I remembered the scrolls I’d read in the last alchemical chamber.  The super-soldiers hadn’t needed enhancement potions, not ones based on magical blood.  Or so I thought ... enhancement potions were never quite as bad as outright necromancy, but using even a single dose took a high toll.  And how many potions had Mistress Layla produced over the last few weeks?

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told her, again.  She’d been a slave.  She could not have said no.  “I ... who’s behind this?”

Mistress Layla turned her eyes towards me.  “It’s Prince ...”

Something moved, behind us.  A blurred form tore through her, fingers tearing through her neck.  Blood splashed everywhere.  The blur came towards me. I cast a force punch without thinking.  The blur - the super-soldier, I realised numbly - was smashed flat against the far wall.  The stone was cracked, pieces of debris falling to the ground.  I barely noticed.  I could hear more super-soldiers coming towards me.

I cast a spell on Eleanor.  The girl shrank, becoming a tiny piece of debris.  She’d pass unnoticed, unless they brought experienced sorcerers in to search the entire chamber.  I picked her up, told her to wait for me to come back or for the spell to wear off, then hid her somewhere out of sight.   She’d be panicking when she turned back, but at least she’d be out of danger.  I had a nasty feeling I knew where the enhancement potions had been going.

It’s time to put an end to this, I thought, as I ran up the stairs.  The wards crackled around me, but I didn’t give them a chance to lock on.  And quickly.

I smiled, despite everything.  I was going to