B
Bergie14
Guest
Sheena’s approach to the castle was all wrong, but it didn’t matter. She was moving carefully, but directly, toward the front of the castle—trying to stay hidden. Her instructions had been to come immediately to this particular spot, and to come inside.
She was told to come alone, and unarmed. She followed the first instruction, but not the second, as her dagger with a twelve inch blade was sheathed on her right thigh. Her leopard print bikini hid very little of her tanned, toned body—but there was no mistaking by looking at her face that she was a woman in her forties, for better or for worse.
In spite of that, or maybe because of it, she knew this was a trap. Her “invitation” was written in blood on parchment and delivered by arrow to her home—buried in the trunk of a tree.
She was concerned, but suspected that if she did not “accept” the invitation, the next time it would’ve delivered would be much more direct. Further, she did not shy away from challenges, or confrontation. She was known throughout the Jungle for this trait.
So as she surveyed her surroundings near the castle, she couldn’t see anyone or anything concerning—yet. The invitation was to a meeting to take place at sundown inside the castle, downstairs, in a greatroom. Her experience told her this would be no ordinary greatroom.
The invitation had the clear symbol of La of Opar as its signature. Sheena had encountered La as a much younger woman, when they both were in their twenties. La’s reputation definitely preceded her, as she was known for everything from ivory poaching to drug smuggling to human trafficking—all denied by her, of course.
La was known for an entirely female group of followers: “assistants,” they were often called. These women did her bidding in whatever manner La required. Sheena wondered where these “assistants” were hiding—or were they simply out of sight?
Thinking that there was no time like the present, Sheena jogged up the steps to the main doors of the castle. The doors were shut, but easily gave way when she pushed on them. She stepped inside with her eyes peeled, but saw little in the fire-lit hallway. As promised in her invitation, however, the staircase heading down was to her left. Seeing no one, she descended the staircase.
Stepping off the last step, she recognized that her search for the greatroom was over. However, there was no welcoming committee. Instead, she recognized in this dimly, fire-lit room perhaps fifty feet wide and maybe another fifty feet wide, that La was quite a collector of medieval style torture furniture and equipment.
Sheena took her time and walked slowly around the room. It had been years—ten? Fifteen? since she’d been acquainted with such devices, and she was in no hurry to renew the acquaintance.
“You’re wondering why you’re here,” a voice said from the shadows. La stepped into the light as Sheena turned to face the woman who’d spoken.
“Yes, I am,” Sheena responded. “Hello, La.”
“Hello Sheena.” She paused. “We have a problem.”
“We?”
“Yes. There is a virus in our land. Both of us may already be infected—many of my assistants are. That’s the bad news. The good news is that I’ve arranged to purchase a large quantity of the serum that is needed to cure it.”
“So, again, why am I here?”
“Because you’re going to go get it for me, and bring it back here to me. I’ll take what I need, and then you can distribute the rest as you see fit.”
“Why will I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I won’t share it with you, and countless people will get sick—even die. And your conscience won’t let you be responsible for that.”
Sheena pauses, knowing La was right.
“But first, you must prove your loyalty. I want a full loyalty pledge to me, and our agreement. You must pass my test to be given the directions to get the serum.”
“What is your test?”
La looked around the room. “You must endure my tortures, and pledge your loyalty. If you endure these tortures, and pledge loyalty to me, I will believe in you to go get the serum.”
Sheena paused. “The serum is important. I will do as you say.”
La smiled, and extended her hand. “Unfasten the sheath from your thigh and hand it to me with the knife inside.”
With her eyes locked on La’s, she did so.
“Excellent,” La smiled. Now hand me your bikini. Strip for torture.”
End part one.
She was told to come alone, and unarmed. She followed the first instruction, but not the second, as her dagger with a twelve inch blade was sheathed on her right thigh. Her leopard print bikini hid very little of her tanned, toned body—but there was no mistaking by looking at her face that she was a woman in her forties, for better or for worse.
In spite of that, or maybe because of it, she knew this was a trap. Her “invitation” was written in blood on parchment and delivered by arrow to her home—buried in the trunk of a tree.
She was concerned, but suspected that if she did not “accept” the invitation, the next time it would’ve delivered would be much more direct. Further, she did not shy away from challenges, or confrontation. She was known throughout the Jungle for this trait.
So as she surveyed her surroundings near the castle, she couldn’t see anyone or anything concerning—yet. The invitation was to a meeting to take place at sundown inside the castle, downstairs, in a greatroom. Her experience told her this would be no ordinary greatroom.
The invitation had the clear symbol of La of Opar as its signature. Sheena had encountered La as a much younger woman, when they both were in their twenties. La’s reputation definitely preceded her, as she was known for everything from ivory poaching to drug smuggling to human trafficking—all denied by her, of course.
La was known for an entirely female group of followers: “assistants,” they were often called. These women did her bidding in whatever manner La required. Sheena wondered where these “assistants” were hiding—or were they simply out of sight?
Thinking that there was no time like the present, Sheena jogged up the steps to the main doors of the castle. The doors were shut, but easily gave way when she pushed on them. She stepped inside with her eyes peeled, but saw little in the fire-lit hallway. As promised in her invitation, however, the staircase heading down was to her left. Seeing no one, she descended the staircase.
Stepping off the last step, she recognized that her search for the greatroom was over. However, there was no welcoming committee. Instead, she recognized in this dimly, fire-lit room perhaps fifty feet wide and maybe another fifty feet wide, that La was quite a collector of medieval style torture furniture and equipment.
Sheena took her time and walked slowly around the room. It had been years—ten? Fifteen? since she’d been acquainted with such devices, and she was in no hurry to renew the acquaintance.
“You’re wondering why you’re here,” a voice said from the shadows. La stepped into the light as Sheena turned to face the woman who’d spoken.
“Yes, I am,” Sheena responded. “Hello, La.”
“Hello Sheena.” She paused. “We have a problem.”
“We?”
“Yes. There is a virus in our land. Both of us may already be infected—many of my assistants are. That’s the bad news. The good news is that I’ve arranged to purchase a large quantity of the serum that is needed to cure it.”
“So, again, why am I here?”
“Because you’re going to go get it for me, and bring it back here to me. I’ll take what I need, and then you can distribute the rest as you see fit.”
“Why will I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I won’t share it with you, and countless people will get sick—even die. And your conscience won’t let you be responsible for that.”
Sheena pauses, knowing La was right.
“But first, you must prove your loyalty. I want a full loyalty pledge to me, and our agreement. You must pass my test to be given the directions to get the serum.”
“What is your test?”
La looked around the room. “You must endure my tortures, and pledge your loyalty. If you endure these tortures, and pledge loyalty to me, I will believe in you to go get the serum.”
Sheena paused. “The serum is important. I will do as you say.”
La smiled, and extended her hand. “Unfasten the sheath from your thigh and hand it to me with the knife inside.”
With her eyes locked on La’s, she did so.
“Excellent,” La smiled. Now hand me your bikini. Strip for torture.”
End part one.