Good Help is Hard to Find - Part 2

"Vrakazh silkarzhen, hren ka hren.  Vrakazh hren mukhesh ngashta!"  The air in the room grew close and heavy, the candles flickering in the still air as Belmilia chanted, her fingers moving in a complex series of gestures.  "Sul vrizhat gurithros hren, gul vremi, gul vremi, gul vremi!"

She had changed her fashionable dress for robe of black and dark red, minutely embroidered with arcane symbols.  With her gloves neatly placed on a side table, her pale face and hands seemed to float in the thickening shadows as her voice rose and fell. 

"Vaha nglui, golzhu ftaghn.  Gar shay gultos, vrizhat hren.  Tur ngvalathros!"

The boy strapped to the table screamed, the sound strangely muffled in the heavy air.  He had soiled himself in his fear and the stench of loosed bowels mixed with the incense that coiled up in strange patterns from a brazier.  Iloam lay next to him, unmoving in his drugged stupor.

The sorceress continued her ritual unmoved as small threads of green light wormed their way up through his skin and crawled obscenely across his body.  She extended a hand and the threads of light twisted, combining into a single ropey mass that sought her hand and crawled along her outstretched arm.

Belmilia gasped, her eyes closing as her body trembled in pleasure; the young man's fear and horror adding a wonderfully piquant note to the sensation.  But this was not for her.  With a sigh, she focused, letting the light writhe across her body like a serpent and down her other arm.  Iloam's body jerked a little as the light found it, a moan escaping his lips despite the drugs.  She watched as the bruises and cuts faded.  The boy cried out again, in pain this time, as the elf's wounds began to appear on his body.

It was done.  Belmilia lowered her head, forcing her breathing to slow as the light faded away.  The elf appeared healthy, his breathing deep and natural.  The boy next to him was still alive, whimpering softly, apparently he'd been stronger than he looked.  She smiled and laid her hand on his chest.  There was some left for her after all.

***

Iloam awoke. Rather surprisingly, he felt better than he had in days. Rather unsurprisingly, he was unable to move. He carefully opened an eye and assessed the situation; thick leather straps secured his wrists and ankles to the chair. Someone knew their business, by the look of things. And that clicking noise was back, it almost sounded like it was moving behind him somewhere, just out of sight. He raised his eyes, noticing that the table in front of him was occupied by a body; a rather dead one from the look of it.

He groaned, "Ohhhh bollocks."

Now feeling better and clearer headed, he tests his bonds*

"Schtupid ..ngh.. bloody twit!"  He yelled at himself, cursing in a growl as he pulled at the straps.  "Just HAD to give in... wanker! Fatty!"

"Mmmmm," A husky feminine voice purred in his ear.  "Aren't you a tasty little morsel."

Iloam's head whipped around in surprise.

The succubus slowly licked her lips, her face inches from his, "Well hello, sugar."

She watched a mix of emotions wash over his face: horror, predominately, but his mouth still hangs and the rush of arousal that floods through him in a curiously pavlovian response is obvious from the flush that splotches his fair cheeks and chest, as well as the rise between his legs

"W-wuh.. what..."  "He licked his lip nervously, his eyes shifting around instinctively looking for an exit.

"Looks like you're glad to see me." She gave him a bawdy wink.  "Maybe we'll get some playtime later."  The succubus slowly faded from view, her forked tongue making a last, slow circuit of her lips as she disappeared,

Lady Howell emerged from the shadows to take her place behind the table.  "I see you are awake.  Excellent."

"You're a warlock?!"  He sneered, his fingers curling into fists as anger twisted his face into a hateful look.  "A warlock?!"

She smiled indulgently, "I have been called as much."

"What the bloody hell do you want with me?"  He twisted his wrists against the bonds, attempting to slip from them with increased vigor.

"My, my.  Such ingratitude.  Why, I hardly know what to think."  She said with feigned hurt as her smile turned mocking.  "I have saved you from the gallows, fed you, and tended your wounds.  Surely I deserve at least a little thanks." 

His eyes narrowed.  "I know what kind of thanks your kind likes ..."  The last words spat out like a slur.

"Do you now?"

He snarled at her.  "Well I've got bad news for you, Crumpet ... you're going to be sorely disappointed in this little snack."  His nostrils flared as he jerked his chin to his chest, indicating  his heart.

"Rotten luck."

Belmilia laughed without humor.  "Really, mister 'Sunstrider'.  I wish to propose a simple bargain, nothing more.  I return for saving your life there is something I would like you to acquire for me."

"You... don't want me so..." His face melted into bafflement, green eyes blinking.  "Come again?"

"Souls are easy to come by."  She gestured at the corpse on the table.  "Although I do admit to some curiosity about yours, as well as the mark on your back.  No, mister 'Sunstrider' if I had desired your soul I would have taken it at the Stockades."

His face turned to stone at the mention of his mark and he froze. She noted his reaction, her face betraying interest for a moment before returning to its usual placid state. 

"Some years ago, before the Scourge invasion, the Royal Library of Silvermoon housed a rather rare and valuable work called the Tome of Kar'desh.  This book would be most useful for my studies.  I return for your life, and a rather substantial sum of gold, I should like you to acquire it for me."

"Why me?"  He eyed her in evident mistrust

"You are Sin'dorei and by all accounts a thief and a spy.  Who better?"

"Thats it?" He sounded dubious.  "You give me all this for a book? I could be a rubbish thief.  Pretty big gamble, Crumpet."

She raised a delicate eyebrow.  "A few bribes and a meal?  Not much of a gamble, sir."

"Aye... but I know what you are. I could turn you in. *He shakes his head* There's a catch. There's always a catch.

"Turn me in, sir?"  Her smile grew mocking.  "I am a member of the House of Nobles and you are a spy and an enemy.  Which of us will they believe?  Hmmm?"

"Tell me, sir." She indicated the corpse on the table.  "Why do you think this body is here?"

He looked over the body, seemingly undisturbed by its presence.  "Scraps from your last meal, I suppose."

"Look closer.  Examine his wounds.  Is there something familiar about them?"

She watched his eyes flicker in recognition.  When he finally spoke his voice was tinged with condemnation and ... horror perhaps?  The thought of a thief with scruples amused her. 

"What did you do?"

"I used his life force to heal you.  You were rather seriously injured it appears."  She shrugged.  "No matter.  There was enough there for my purposes."

He swallowed, looking slightly ill as he turned his face away.  "When do you need your bloody book?"

"As soon as you can locate it.  The Royal Library was plundered, it's contents scattered.  Much was recovered, although the Tome is not listed in the current inventory."  She paced as she talked.  "The original was stored in a vault in the old library so it is possible it may still be there.  Given the work's value to certain ... schools of magic, I suspect not.  I have prepared a packet of what is currently known of the Tome.  This will be provided to you."

He nodded, relaxing in the chair as he went into business mode.

"Do we have a deal, sir?"

His lips pressed together, clearly unhappy about making a deal with a warlock.  "If I can't find it? What happens then?"

"Ah, yes.  I believe you mentioned a 'catch', did you not?"  Belmilia slowly peeled the glove from her left hand as she walked around the table.  She paused for a moment before laying her outstretched hand on his chest, smiling cruelly.

"Please permit me to indulge my curiosity for a moment."

He jerked back against the chair, trying to squirm away as a powerful mix of passionate anger and fear crossed his features.

"No!"

He strained hard against his bonds as purple and green light flickered under her hand and icy fingers fondled his soul. Her mask dropped for a moment, showing naked lust and greed as she probed

He jerked and bucked against the bonds of his chair, rocking it against the floor with loud scraping noises. A string of gypsy curses erupted from his lips, almost frothing with rage and panic.  There was a feeling as if something tugged at him, deep inside, then she withdrew.  She stood, pulling on her glove as her breathing slowed to normal.

She watched him pant as she spoke, flushed with anger as his ears buzzed and his heart hammered in his chest.

"Fascinating.  It is rather a pity I have other uses for you; your soul would make a most interesting study.  And I think I rather understand your feelings about warlocks."

He bowed his head as he tried to control the emotions she had stirred up; his voice muffled slightly against his chest. "Alright... you've got a deal."

"Excellent.  The remainder of your things are in the corner.  I think you'll find they have been cleaned and repaired."  She walked past him, stopping just behind his shoulder.

He turned, looking over his shoulder.  "What about these?"  He twisted his wrists under the bonds.

"My men will see you out.  Oh, yes.  One more thing."  She turned, looking at him with glittering eyes.  "Do not disappoint me, sir.  I become ... cross.  Good evening."

"Tah."  He said bitterly.