Chapter #89Saved By Sulva by: imaj   You dream of the night sky.
The air is still and unmoving, no breeze to push the stifling air away. You get up and look around but it is impossible to see where you are. An impenetrable darkness blocks your sight in all directions. You can barely even make out your feet in the gloom.
You look up. Thick clouds block the night sky and the stars are hidden from you. Sulva is hidden from you. No, that’s not right. Sulva is never hidden from you. You reach a hand up to the sky, beckoning your companion and a small gap in the clouds starts to form. Sulva peers through, its familiar face both reassuring you and energizing you.
A shaft of moonlight illuminates the ground and you see a path leading away from your location. A short distance ahead you recognise a Japanese shrine gate, its shape at once both familiar and alien. A figure appears by the gate: Miko Toyotomi, dressed in blood red biker’s leathers. Held in a sash at her waist is the curved shape of her sword.
You make your way down the path confidently. Unlike the real Miko, the dream Miko is happy to see you: Her arms open wide in greeting as you approach and the two of you hug. The darkness around you fades away and you groggily wake up.
The first thing you are aware of is the uncomfortable position you find yourself sitting in: Your arms stuck behind your back. You try to move them, but they seem stuck in place. Bound? There does seem to be something rough feeling chafing at your wrists. Nor can you move your legs, and as you look down you can see that they have been tied to the legs of the chair with thick looking rope.
You also notice that your boobs have shrunk.
The only explanation is that you somehow changed imago whilst you were sleeping. Given the dream you had, and given the subtle change in the tone of your skin you suspect you are now wearing Miko’s face. You meditate for a few seconds and the introspection confirms it. You also consider retaking Hélène’s imago, yet there’s something not quite right about how it feels that stops you.
You turn your attention to the room. There are no windows and the only source of light is a single electric bulb. It sways slightly as if caught in a breeze, causing the shadows cast by the series of stone arches that make up the room to dance about. There is no carpet or rug and the floor is made up flagstones polished by centuries of use. The walls are stained where water has trickled down them and even now you can hear a soft dripping sound.
Aside from the chair you’ve been tied to, the only other piece of furniture is an unvarnished table. You crane your neck to take a closer look. It’s cluttered with garbage: Candles, musty books, odd looking glass vials – the sort of mess that you remember seeing back in Blackwell’s workshop cum laboratory. Useless…
No, there’s an ornate looking knife half under one of the books at the very edge of the table. The unpleasant words sacrificial dagger bubble to the surface of your mind. If you could somehow reach it…
Whoever your captors were, they were expecting Hélène Verdier not Miko Toyotomi. Even without access to Miko’s Malacandra ousiarch, her athletic body packs more muscles into it than Hélène and yourself combined. You half hop, half waddle, chair and all, over to the table. The knife looks wickedly sharp, so you very carefully turn your back to the table and probe gently with Miko’s dextrous fingers.
Success! You work your fingers round the hilt of the knife and grasp hold of it. Very, very carefully you try to feel for he rope with your other hand until you have enough of an idea of its location to try and cut it. It takes a couple tries to place the knife correctly and at times you can feel the knife rest against your unprotected skin but eventually you get it. You slowly saw at the rope, not going all the way through but instead stopping once its weakened enough to be snapped Miko’s strength.
With one hand free the rest of the process is easy. You cut the bonds on each of your legs in turn. With that done you can twist round in the chair and free your remaining hand with little effort. Although you haven’t touched Miko’s persona at all since you woke up, you can feel her contempt for the amateur way your captors had you trussed.
“Everything’s set up,” says a voice outside the room, just beyond the rotting door that is the only exit. “All you need to do now is return this evening and… Well, you know what happens then.” There is a sound of a key turning in a lock and you look around for somewhere to hide.
Of course, you don’t need somewhere to hide. You press yourself in behind one of the arches, readying your cloak. The door swings open and two men walk into the room. You don’t wait to see them properly, throwing your cloak around them instantly.
“What the fuck,” says one of them. It’s George, from last night. He’s still wearing the same clothes bar the addition of a heavy looking open brown robe over the top of them. He half runs to the now empty chair and kneels beside it, picking up the frayed remains of the rope. “She was right here.”
“And now she isn’t,” says the other man, whom you don’t recognise. He is, perhaps a little older than George, but not by much. He too wears a brown robe, but you can’t help but notice ugly looking stains upon it.
“She couldn’t have gone,” exclaims George. “I gave her enough of the stuff to keep her knocked out till the ceremony. And the door was locked.” You bristle with anger: He must have drugged you at the bar. Thinking about it, Hélène must still be drugged, and it was only by Sulva leading you to shift to Miko that you were able to throw off the drug induced stupor.
“Lets assume the worst Georgie boy,” says the other man with a trace of smugness. “She was somehow resistant to the drug and was enough of an expert lockpicker and contortionist to escape. Where’s she going to go? The tunnels are a maze and she’ll never work her way back to the surface without knowing which way to go. We’ll just post Tony and Harry on the exit and the rest of us will sweep the tunnels till we find her”
“You’re right,” replies George. “Of course you’re right,” he continues, his speech slowing back down to normal. “Nothing to panic about. Worst case scenario, we can just go out and pick another girl to be the third tonight.”
“Exactly,” says the other man with a serpent like grin. He throws something to George, who catches it easily. “You lock up here, I’ll go organise the search party.” He walks out the door, leaving you and George alone in the room.
You circle the room slowly as George walks over to the table and starts rummaging through the heap on top of it. He’s muttering to himself and you move in closer to hear him “…know I left the dagger here somewhere…” he mumbles.
You realise you still have the knife in your hands, poised and ready to use. The blade gleams with an ugly light as the words tumble over one another in your head: Dagger, ceremony… You look from blade to George and back again and you understand with a terrible certainty that he planned to use the very knife in your hands to sacrifice you for some unknown purpose tonight.
“Fuck… Did she take it,” mutters George, panic rising in his voice.
He’s totally oblivious to your presence, wrapped in both your cloak and his own rising concerns. Miko’s competent with almost any sort of blade and it would very easy to kill him now. It’s what he was going to do to you. The blade glints, almost as if it’s willing you to use it.
You lower the blade. Are you ready to make that decision?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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