WIP: A dark beginning
I’m trying something new on the blog now, sharing early drafts from one of my two works in progress (WIP). This first sample is the opening scene for a novel which is currently at 23k words covering the introduction (prologue) and Act One of the story.
Elara heard the jailers approaching and hugged the two smaller girls sheltering beneath her arms even as she suppressed a shudder against the cold fear of what was coming.
“Goddess, give me strength,” she prayed softly, barely whispering.
Her belief would not let her ask for rescue or escape, not so long as these other girls were at risk. She had witnessed one girl pulled from the damp cell, stripped outside the thick metal bars, and roughly tied before being led through the stout wooden door set in the black stone wall. The thickness of the door did nothing to prevent her hearing the screams of the child.
The door opened and the two jailers entered laughing at some unheard joke. One was a heavyset man, dressed in a black robe with worn leather boots peeking from beneath the hem just above the damp floor. He was older with greying hair and a sparse beard. His broad, flat nose filled the space beneath and between his dark, beady eyes. His gaze was hungry as he looked through the bars at the cowering women.
The other was younger, fitter, but not any nicer based on his look. He wore leather pants and a tan tunic. His hair was blonde, and Elara thought he could have made himself attractive, but there were no pleasant thoughts once you saw his leer and cold eyes. Where his mate was hungry, he was mean. You could see he wanted to lash out, to cause pain for pain’s sake. He was the one that pulled a length of well-worn rope from his belt and smiled in anticipation.
“Not a young one this time,” the older man said. “The master wants someone who’s old enough to breed.”
“I guess that limits us,” the mean man said. “But it will mean we’ll get a young one for dessert,” he added with a wicked laugh.
Elara shuddered. The fear in the cell was palatable. She could feel it rolling off her cellmates. Fear of being chosen now. Fear of remaining to be chosen later. The different flavors of fear filled her as her goddess’ gift let her feel those around her. Needing to face that fear, she gave the two girls at her sides a quick hug, then released them to force herself up to her feet.
Both men leered at her.
“Looks like we have a volunteer,” mean man said. “Get over here to the gate,” he ordered.
Elara stepped with unconscious precision, feeling the cold stone floor in the soles of her feet. The men watched her, letting their gaze travel up from her painted toes, along her legs, over her body and then up to her long silver hair. The coarse shift they had provided each of the prisoners provided too little cover for her, only reaching mid-thigh. She felt the other’s momentary sense of relief as the jailers seemed to accept her as their next victim.
The door was unlocked, and the mean man grabbed her firmly by the arm, jerking her through the doorway before the other man slammed it shut and turned the key to lock it firmly. She could feel the men’s lust rising as the mean man pulled out his knife and quickly cut up her shift, exposing her to their eyes.
They both licked their lips, but then spun her around and tied her elbows behind her back.
“If the master doesn’t like her,” the old man said. “I’ll take her. I’ve never had one with silver hair before.”
The mean man laughed. “I thought you didn’t like them with any hair!”
Elara blocked their dark thoughts and let them push her out of the jail and down the dark corridor. Green magical lights cast eerie shadows as they walked. Down the corridor, up the winding stairs, then through another dark passage filled with black doors before descending once more.
Eventually, they reached a larger chamber, appearing carved from obsidian, but finished in precisely angular cuts. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and she could sense the boundary between the physical world and the magical realm growing thin. Crystalline structures glowed with an inner radiance, their facets refracting the ethereal light that filled the space. Gigantic machines hummed softly, their purpose a mystery to her.
A massive obsidian altar dominated the center of the chamber, and Elara could feel the power emanating from it. The air was thick with anticipation and potential. She had heard tales of such places but had never witnessed one firsthand. Despite her unease, Elara couldn’t deny the allure of this extraordinary place coursing with power and potential.
A cloaked figure moved from the shadows along a series of carved bookshelves. He wore a dark and flowing robe of rich fabrics. Elara could see the complex glyphs sown in a matching hue, shimmering with subtle magical energies. Many of the symbols were unknown to her, but she recognized enough, chaos magic.
“What have you brought me?” a deep, sonorous voice asked. She knew it was from the man in the hooded robe, but the voice seemed to come from all around them.
Neither of the men spoke, but the old man put a hot hand in the small of her back, just above her bound wrists, and pushed her forward.
The figure lifted his hands to his hood and pushed it back, exposing sharp features that gave him an air of mystery and danger. His high cheekbones were accentuated by deep lines etched into his skin. She suspected the lines were from years of intense concentration during spell casting. His strong jawline was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, adding to the air of authority and power surrounding him. She knew he was a dangerous man of power.
“A priestess?” he said. “Excellent. You’ve chosen well,” he said to the men. “Now leave me. You may have one prisoner to share.”
Elara’s heart sank, knowing one of the girls in the cell would soon be journeying to the Celestial Realm, but only after suffering greatly. She resolved to not go gently to such a fate.
She watched the magician approach, carefully considering what she could do with her arms bound tightly behind her. She felt something probing at her emotions, as if trying to soothe her and make her trusting and compliant. She knew better, but let her own powers create a facade of the sense he was trying to force on her. She managed not to shudder as he reached out and caressed her naked breast.
“A virgin priestess will suit my purpose,” he said softly.
Elara struck. She kicked up and out viciously, aiming for his groin, but finding her foot tangled in his robes. She snapped her head forward, planting her forehead against his nose and was rewarded with a gasp and the sound of crunching bone. Her sense of victory was fleeting.
Pain blossomed across her face. She reeled away, unable to balance with her arms tied behind her, and fell, smashing her shoulder against the cold stone floor.
“You should have tried to enjoy this,” the magician growled while grabbing her bound arms and lifting her. She refused to stand. He dragged her to the altar. His fingers entwined in her hair, controlling her head as he pushed her down and across the strangely warm stone slab. He grabbed a knife from one end, cutting her bonds effortlessly, and then quickly securing her in a hinged wooden collar with two cuffs on the end. Her arms were now stretched out before her. The contraption forced her to hold them up lest she strangle herself, making them useless for resisting.
He bent her forward, quickly securing the wrists of the collar to a clip on the far side of the altar. She felt her feet being spread apart and realized she was not going to just be sacrificed for some arcane ritual. First, he planned on soiling her body, her temple to her goddess. Hoping for strength from her goddess, she arched her back, forcing the collar against her neck. Her vision swam. She knew he would not let her die, but she would not let him win without resistance.
Malachi, the Guardian of Set, stepped back from his alter, looking at the woman bound and bent over it. The pain in his nose and face were fading as he let the power of chaos mend him. She had struggled, to no avail. His seed was planted within her, completing the connection the magic would need. He dropped the hem of his robe, covering his own nakedness, and began the final chants that would seal the compulsion on her while the connection was fresh. Once done, he would be able to perform the sending easily. Then, it would only be a matter of time before she returned to him with the prize he needed to master the realms of Elysia.
What do you think? Does it make you want to read more? Drop a like or comment and let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated.
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