Bonds

I woke again to the same warmth and comfort, laying face-down on a soft bed, enjoying a profound and unreal lack of pain. There was sunlight in my eyes, and a strange tickling sensation on my back…a rather pleasant feeling, actually. The air was scented with smoke...Dragon’s blood resin.

“What?” I murmured, lifting my head.

“Don’t move.” The order was sharp, and I’d grown so used to obedience that in my dazed state I complied without question, laying my head back down and opening my eyes to see a tangled rise of patterned cloth, and beyond it a table. The strange sensation on my back continued.

“I hadn’t expected you to wake so soon. Don’t try to move, I’m painting a sigil and if it’s smudged then I’ll have to begin again.”

Something fell into place in my mind, and a frantic little thrill ran through me. My capture, the Archmage…but I found myself wholly unable to rise, my efforts weak beyond measure.

“Now, now, didn’t I just tell you not to move? I suppose they were right when they called you defiant,” the voice continued, tinged with amusement. “Relax, this won’t hurt.”
And it didn’t. Quite the opposite actually, his fingers moved across my back in intricate patterns, sometimes in tiny precise motions, sometimes broadly swirling ones. The tension slowly eased out of my muscles, and I closed my eyes again.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” I answered truthfully. My voice was slurred, thick, as if I’d had too much to drink. Which might also serve to explain the warmth low in my belly and the light-headedness.

“That’s good. And I’m not anyone’s lord, much less yours,” he said, sounding distracted.
“As you wish, sir,” I replied flatly.

“I won’t be finished for some time, you’re welcome to go back to sleep if you’d like. You won’t be able to move for a few hours in any case, the potion I gave you contained a strong muscle relaxant.”

Drugged into stillness, then. That was a tactic none had yet tried, and apparently an effective one. All my efforts resulted in little more than restless twitching, and I gave up almost immediately.

When had he drugged me? I couldn’t remember… the recent past melted together into a mass of pleasant sensations. Wholly unfair, given what I knew the outcome of all this must be.

“I have no wish to sleep away my final hours, my lor….sir. Your use for me is obvious, and I accept it with all the grace I may,” I replied, resentment darkening my thoughts. “You are cruel to treat me so gently, to make me desire life for the first time in longer than I care to recall, only now that my death is close at hand." My voice was shaking by the end of the sentence… such blatant insolence would certainly get me punished. But he was going to kill me in any case, so what further point was there in good behavior? If I was to die, I might as well gather what shreds of honor I could.

There was a long pause before he replied, the gentle half-caresses on my back as he wove his human magic never ceasing.

“I’ve no intention of killing you, Nydiel,” he finally said, softly. I couldn’t recall when I’d told him my name. Or the last time I’d heard it from another’s lips. It felt strange to be addressed by name, especially by a human. None of them in my recollection had ever bothered with more than ‘elf’ or ‘slave’.

“You are a human mage, what other use could you have for me? You are kind enough to allow me a quick death, aren’t you?" I hissed bitterly, closing my eyes as my mind silently raced with horror... I'd expected death, hadn't allowed myself to consider alternatives... I might be caged interminably in some corner of a dank laboratory, used as a convenient and unending supply of living magic...

“I won’t lie and say that I never intend to take from you, but I can promise you that I won't take what you aren't willing to give. I wish you no ill, and I will not harm you. My agenda would be far better served with your aid than merely your blood. Experience teaches that you’ll need to be a great deal healthier before that will be possible, so I’m putting forth the effort to make you so. Incidentally, I’d do that much regardless…it’s what I do."

For a long moment I considered, digesting this new information. He sought no more from me than my previous masters had…the use of my magical talent to whatever end he desired? It was far too good to be true, there was certainly something sinister hidden in such a promise.

"If…Then why all this?" I finally asked. The total lack of repercussions thus far had made me brave.

“If you want a decent answer, you’ll have to narrow that question somewhat,” he replied. There was a smile in the sound of his voice, and I wondered what I’d done or said that had pleased him.

"Why… such gentleness?" I said, breathless. I was a fool to be mentioning it, to alert him that his behavior was anything less than normal. "Much less than this would keep me alive… I'm not so easy to kill as that. You allow me comforts that no human would ever allow me. Why?"

“I've already told you that it's what I do. But if you insist; from a purely practical standpoint you're more useful in health than you are injured, and you'll mend more quickly with aid,” the mage answered, “And if I’d caged you then you’d certainly be far more inclined to attempt escape. Am I wrong to believe that a warm bed will hold you far more securely than any iron chains would?”

He drew very close, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. He whispered a single word, totally incomprehensible, and the constant movement of his fingers finally halted. Half a moment later I felt a wave of warm power flow through me from the inside out, making me feel stronger and more alive than I had in days. A small moan escaped my lips by no volition of my own, and I could hear the mage chuckling.

“What did you do to me?” I asked, my voice unsteady, my mind reeling in the aftershock.

“That one’s a sigil for health,” he replied, tracing a line down the center of my back. “Here and here are sigils for healing,” he added, the lightest of touches ghosting across my skin in two places near my left shoulder. “The fresher wound was very deep. If the archer had been a better shot… or a worse one… then he might have punctured a lung. You’re very lucky.”

“Not lucky enough to gain my freedom,” I replied, trying to wrest my thoughts away from the afterglow of what he’d just done. There was a long silence, and I realized that my words could be counted as nothing less than the rashest of insubordination, certainly worthy of punishment. I cursed myself silently. It took so little distraction to turn me into a hot-blooded fool. I should have learned better by now, I’d certainly had my share of lessons.

“I intend to place another sigil here,” he said, finally, his fingers brushing softly against the flesh of my lower back. There was no anger in his voice, no indication that retribution for my rash words would be forthcoming. If anything, he sounded apologetic, almost pained. “It might take as long as an hour. You should sleep, I’m amazed that you’re awake at all after the ordeal you must have been through.”

“I ran for three days and two nights, sir,” I answered quietly, waiting.

“All the more reason to rest now. You’re safe here; no further harm will come to you.”
There wasn’t much to be said to that; regardless of how much or how little I could trust such a promise, there was no action I could take at present. So I closed my eyes and waited.