My Warrior
The mature woman Vantaiga busied herself about her home and farm. At first, the days waiting for Syffox seemed endless. But when the days turned to weeks, her longing for his return turned from urgency in the back of her mind into a dull ache in her heart. By the time the weeks had turned into months, the ache became a numbness that merged her days and tasks into a continuous stream.
Her thoughts of reuniting with Syffox began to mix with doubts that he would ever return, that he felt the same as she did, or that a roving adventurer would want to spend his time with someone like her.
After all, what grand adventure did she have to offer him? The mystery of what fruit she would grow next? The conquest to slay the weed army? And let’s not forget the ever-exciting trial of keeping the animal pens clean. She gave a deep sigh. Then there was the expedition to find anything worthwhile about living with a peasant slave outcast.
She didn’t like the thoughts, but she couldn’t push them aside. No matter how much she wanted to believe he would come, she couldn’t help but think he never would. And the more time passed, the more she realised her hopes were wrong and her doubts were right.
So, it was with both surprise and elation, and even a bit of fear, when, one morning, the long-awaited knock interrupted her dower kitchen musings. She sprang to the entrance and threw open the door and prepared to pounce into Syffox’s arms. However, instead of being greeted with a warm smile and red beard, she was greeted by a tall, thin elderly man with steely eyes and many scars on his face.
The venomous hiss of his voice made her hair stand on end. “It’s been a long time, slave girl.”
In shocked horror, Vantaiga stood stunned. The Master of Servants took advantage of her hesitation and swiftly flicked his hand at her. She tried to slam the door but was too late. An ethereal snake darted out from the mage’s sleeve and struck her on the cheek. The world spun around her, and she fell into blackness.
***
Vantaiga awoke from a strange dream. It was a dream of floating and of dragging. It was a dream of sun and of sand, of sky and of rocks, of a monstrous form, and of darkness. It was a dream of implements and straps, of draining cold and weakness, and of fear.
She was still afraid. She was still in darkness. She was engulfed in fear, and darkness, and a twisting pain in her stomach.
With a retch, Vantaiga heaved and gagged, but with nothing to throw up. The muscles of her sides tightened inwards and tried to force her to expel a poison that was not actually there. She broke into a cold sweat and collapsed onto the ground. The hard rock floor greeted her with a soothing chill. Her head throbbed to her heartbeat and spun from dizziness. Incoherent globs of colour pulsed before her eyes.
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Another wave of nausea and pain gripped her insides. She gasped and curled into a ball, trying to clench the pain away. Through groans and teary eyes, she tried looking around, but there was nothing more than darkness to aid her. She was gripped by a trembling weakness that left her only able to lie on the floor, waiting for the sickness to pass.
A third wave of nausea welled up inside her before she was able to raise herself up. Panting, she wiped tears from her eyes and looked around as her vision cleared. Her head still throbbed, but now she could see she was not in complete darkness. She could dimly make out rocks and outcroppings. What little light there was came from an out-of-sight source down a curved tunnel. She was in a cavern. And from the oppressive silence and the stale air, she could tell she was well underground.
Another diminished wave of nausea gripped her. She tightened her stomach, waiting for it to pass. She sensed for life around her but could not find any. The hairs on the back of her neck began to bristle as she suddenly realised she was not alone. By the opening of the cavern, a dark form shifted. It was staring at her, its eyes glinting in the deeper blackness of its head.
With a startled gasp, Vantaiga instinctively shuffled backwards. The motion made her stomach churn and her head spin again. She stared back at the creature while waiting for the sickness to pass. The creature did not move or even blink; it just stared at her. Vantaiga tried to reach out to it with her mind, but she could not feel it there. Did the creature not have a mind? Did it not have life? Vantaiga had a growing awareness that whatever it was, it was not natural and was beyond her reach.
She crawled farther backwards until she reached the jagged stone wall. There was no other exit to the cave save beyond the creature. She summoned up her magic to try and see in the low light, but nothing was revealed to her. She rubbed her fingers and tried to use her magic to warm them, but again, nothing happened. She did not have any magic. She was drained.
She tried to draw in magic from around her but couldn’t. She looked about the cave with curious dreadShe had no schooling in magic. Her only lessons came from the plants and trees and what experimenting she tried. She had no access to books or arcane tomes. And there certainly were no wizards offering to tutor a slave—especially not the Master of Servants.
Vantaiga did not actually know how magic was generated or where it came from. She had always had the impression that it was everywhere, sometimes weak, sometimes strong, but always present to some degree. This was her first time in a cave, though. Was there not magic in caves? There was no life in this cave, so perhaps that’s what was different.
The cave was also quiet. Not that it was just without the sounds of wind or rustling leaves, but that it was without the constant murmur of thoughts in the back of her mind. There were no plants or animals calling for her attention. She found the absence of noise strangely soothing.
She focused on the tranquil quiet to calm her nausea and growing anxiety. However she would get out of this place, she was in no shape to do it now. She tried to make herself as comfortable as she could while never looking away from the gleaming eyes and dark form that watched her. All the while, she kept pushing thoughts out of her head of what the Master of Servants could possibly have planned for her by keeping her captive.